“He didn’t say much,” Alya replied. “He said that what he was doing was dangerous, because the technology hadn’t been tried. He said that he’d already felt too guilty for all the others who’d suffered for him…”
“I found out about his sister,” Van offered.
“His mother was killed in the anti-Rev riots of the Coalition-Revenant War. She looked Revenant, and she died protecting a niece. That bothered him.”
When he heard Alya’s words, although he knew how long ago that had been, the time frame was still a shock to Van. “He told you that?”
Alya shook her head. “Eri did. He never spoke about it to me.”
“What about his wife?”
“No one knows. Or no one will say.”
Van pondered as he checked the screens and systems again. “Did he give any hint that he was going to…deliver the device…personally.”
“No. He even talked about taking some time off later.”
Had Trystin just run out of time, and made a decision on the spot? Trystin had also made contingency plans of all sorts, so that his arrangement for Van to succeed him didn’t necessarily mean that he had planned a suicide attack.
Van wondered if he’d ever know.
Chapter 79
Van glanced around the cockpit, knowing something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Countdown beginning at sixty…fifty-nine, fifty-eight… The numbers marched down slowly, and Van struggled to think…Something…there was something wrong about those numbers, something he should know. He tried to recall…to remember what he should do…
…thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two…
The transmission from the Elsin broke off, and the Elsin had vanished.
Van sat up abruptly in the wide stateroom bunk, his shipsuit soaked through. He’d just tried to get a short nap on the inbound leg to Dharel, but the same nightmare had caught him. It wasn’t every time he slept—when he could sleep, and at times, he couldn’t—but it was still all too often.
He peeled off the damp shipsuit and took out another, as well as clean underwear, and headed to take a shower, not that he would feel that much cleaner. Less than ten minutes later, he was back in the cockpit.
Alya looked at him. “You’re not sleeping that well.”
“No,” Van admitted. “I’m worrying a lot.”
“So did…so did Commander Desoll. He only slept in snatches.”
“Did he ever say why?”
“Not directly. He talked about how people kept repeating the same patterns. He said that the Revenants were locked in an unethical pattern, but they perceived it as ethical, and that nothing short of a catastrophe or divine action would change them. Then he laughed, and said that made it difficult, because in his long life, he’d never seen any direct divine actions.”
Van nodded. He could see Trystin saying that. “I haven’t either.” Then, Van recalled, Trystin had once been a prophet, and prophets acted for deities. But for what deity?
A silence settled over the cockpit, and Van went back to scanning screens, systems, and monitors—and found nothing out of the ordinary.
Another hour passed, and the Joyau neared the Farhkan outer orbit station.
Farhka Station Two, this is Coalition ship Joyau, code name Double Negative, pilot Albert, patron Rhule Ghere, inbound for consultation and information.
The minutes passed, and then more minutes passed. Would the Farhkans even acknowledge his transmission? Van studied the monitors. There were no ships in the system except two Farhkan vessels in-system of the station, both with EDI signatures that resembled dreadnoughts. Neither had changed its course, and neither was headed anywhere close to the Joyau.
Another five minutes passed.
Ship Joyau, pilot Albert, you are cleared for approach and locking. Do you have the beacon?
Farhka Station Two, that is affirmative. We have the beacon. Proceeding as cleared.
Van tried to ensure that his approach and docking were smooth, although he couldn’t help worrying. Trystin had said that the Farhkans could be standoffish, and that their technology was vastly superior to the best of human developments. The solar flare device had proved that.
Human pilot Albert, you may proceed to the first conference room. You will be met.
Station Two, thank you. Proceeding this time. Van nodded to himself.
“They’ll talk to you? That’s something,” Alya offered, as Van unstrapped.
“What they might say is another matter.”
“You’ll know what to do.”
“Let’s hope I do.” Van slipped from the command couch.
He took a few minutes in his stateroom to clean up again before he walked back to the lock and opened it. When he stepped into the gray-green and featureless corridor of the Farhkan station, the musky odor that he had forgotten washed over him. Not unpleasant—just different. He pulsed the lock closed and began to walk. The corridor was empty, as it had been before.
A single doorway lay open ahead. The Farhkan who waited in the room—a space devoid of furnishing and furniture—did not feel the same as the one who had operated on Van.
Van bowed. Thank you. I do not believe we have met.
We have not. You may consider me as Erelon Jhare. Your patron remains Rhule Ghere.
Van Cassius Albert. Van wasn’t quite certain where to begin.
Why are you here? Pilot Desoll applied technology beyond your human capability. The results killed many hundreds of millions.
Van thought for a time before he answered. To seek some understanding.
Jhare barked the Farhkan laugh. You seek…absolution…for what you did not foresee and did not do. None can grant that.
Are you one of those who studies humans and ethics?
Anyone who truly studies anything must study ethics. After a moment, Jhare added, I study technology, the technology that Pilot Desoll… There was a long pause before the Farhkan continued. …used in an unethical manner in the hope of achieving an ethical resolution to an insoluble difficulty.
The Revenant culture was an insoluble difficulty?
Is it not obvious? That culture is predicated on the existence of a deity. Rules of conduct are ascribed to that deity. Those rules preclude free choice. No deity can preclude free choice. The society developed under the ascription of those rules is
