Things Fall Apart: Chapter 73

Zephyr, Tau Ceti, 16.17.775 CW

21.9 megaseconds since the catastrophe

Once they were in the briefing room and settled, Josefilo wasted almost no time.

"I am going to begin by clarifying a point that even our own people often misunderstand. We are known for being shy—reclusive even—and overly concerned with contagion. We are reclusive because we know that most other polities will not approve of our choice to modify ourselves—never mind that the decision was taken generations ago and no one now alive was responsible for that decision. This," he gestured near his neck, where the gills flared a little distractingly for those not accustomed, "is what we of course think of as perfectly normal. It allows us to breathe the air of our world and live without domes. Mostly."

He paused, clearly inviting questions. Singer had one immediately. "And the contagion thing? Understand, a couple-hundred kiloseconds ago, I had to do a lot of fast talking to convince three Thessalian freighter captains it was not going to be the end of the universe if they accepted reaction mass from us."

Josefilo nodded with a wry look on his face. "The first Plejaltulo was a reasonable, rational being. Her successor, however, decided to imbue our decision with a religious imprimatur. We were, in short, humans as they were intended to be, and all the rest of the diaspora were inferior. It is fortunate, in our current crisis, that the current Plejaltulo is also a reasonable, rational being. She is not able to completely throw off the religious mantle, because it's been too long a feature of our culture. She does not, herself, believe it, and so we find ourselves here, with license to tell these things so that you will understand the context of our news.

"Our fear of contagion is not, in fact, purely a religious conviction, or was not intended to be. It's literal. Each of you, every spacer and groundling born out of the human diaspora, has the benefit of a nanotechnological immune system that is so much second nature you don't think about it. Without it, the cultures you contact who have lived in isolation would become severely ill, even die in large numbers, from diseases you find common."

In fact, Singer had to admit, she had literally never thought about it, since the topic was introduced briefly back in grade school. The system was automatically passed on to children during gestation. Societies that had fallen into pre-technological circumstances, who had no idea what nanotechnology even was, still benefitted from an innovation that had been made before Dream of Spring had left Earth.

"In order to make the modifications necessary to our genetics," Josefilo continued, "our ancestors decided to disable this capability, so as to deliver the germ-line mutagen virally. It was intended to be a temporary measure, but for reasons largely lost to history, in fact, we never reactivated or reacquired the capability. I am actually as capable of breathing your air as what we consider normal, but should I do so here, there is a very real chance of my becoming sick with something you're not even aware of!"

Another pause—it occurred to Singer that Josefilo must have spent some time since their last meeting in the classroom as an instructor, perhaps at their equivalent of the academy. Apparently, Karenski thought so as well, pouncing on the pause to say, "I don't wish to seem impatient, especially as this information scratches a long-standing itch of curiosity, but I'm not sure how it bears on our current crisis."

Josefilo smiled, but Singer could sense that the humor was dark. "It does not bear at all upon your crisis. In fact, the details of your crisis were largely unknown to us until we logged in to the Tau Ceti system network as part of routine arrival. I was sent on the one hand to investigate the disappearance of three of our freighters, and on the other hand, to deliver our own news. The freighters, I learn, were already on their way home when I was en route. That leaves the news, for which my tale so far is merely backstory."

Singer could feel Karenski catching up with her own dawning sense of horror. Josefilo, however, did not pause for followups. In fact, he seemed to rush through the pivot Karenski's question had allowed, as if he were afraid he wouldn't actually get the whole thing out if he had to stop and think about it too much.

"In every generation there are a few children born as you are, without the gills necessary to breathe our air, or with stunted ones. This has been true from the beginning, which is why we live only mostly dome-free. Even in our most religiously backward age, we always found a way for the unmodified to live, albeit mostly apart from the rest of us. It's no credit to us that these are commonly called 'throwbacks'.

"The percentage is—had been—small, but represents enough individuals in each generation that they have a largely self-supporting community. However, for the last fifty of our years, the percentage has been climbing, slowly at first, but now at a geometric pace."

He faltered. Singer wondered if anyone else even noticed as more than a pause for breath. Singer, however, felt his dismay, and was convinced it was something personal, not merely societal, that had caused him to pause and regain his composure.

"As I said," he finally continued, "the current Plejaltulo is a rational person, and she ordered a full investigation at a scientific level, rather than allowing the matter to devolve into religious insanity of 'curses' and other such nonsense. There is a faction opposed to this approach, but at the moment, they're not in the ascendant.

"Investigation revealed a new virus, much like the original, that was deliberately reversing the change. With evidence of that virus in hand, the Plejaltulo instituted a system-wide genetic check with two purposes: its public purpose was to see how widespread the infection—there's really nothing else to call it—had spread. The other, however, was to chase a hunch that this contagion was introduced by an outside agent. The number of people with such expertise is fairly low.

"We discovered, rather to our dismay, that one of the most prominent virologists of our age was, in fact, a deep cover agent. The surgical alterations that allowed her to live and work undetected were so subtly done that literally no one ever suspected. She attempted to flee when she discovered genetic testing would be mandatory. Once caught, the long con was revealed for what it was. We still have no idea where she came from, or how she slipped seamlessly into our closed society with no one the wiser until now."

Alexander put zir hand up, and Josefilo paused to take zir question, "Commander?"

"This sounds familiar...but of course, you would not have had the news out of David's Star. One of their chief researchers in AI, who was assisting us in our own investigation, was found dead, killed by a colleague who apparently panicked and then tried to flee."

It was Abernato who responded, before his superior could speak. "Interesting correlation. But one wonders...the AI institute at David's Star is not the source of your own AI technology. What was her actual purpose there? Surely, not solely to wait to kill that particular person in case his services were engaged."

Alexander shook zir head. "We still haven't determined, but we now have to wonder what catastrophe is brewing there. We also have to wonder where else this is happening, and to what effect!"

There was silence while everyone digested this. Karenski broke it. "Whoever they are, they're coming at each of us through our blind sides. We haven't identified our own mole, yet, but it now seems like there has to have been one, embedded in GPP for who knows how long." He looked away, thinking, and no one interrupted his thought. Finally, he said, "Colonel, this news is important, but...I have to tell you, if you were here looking for help, I'm not sure what we can do for you. It's possible we have geneticists and so on who survived, and I'm not refusing to solicit their aid if we can identify them, but you're also right about what you said at the beginning. There's still a lot of taboos around genetic manipulation beyond using it in ways that have been known since the early Space Age—cancer therapies, that kind of thing. Point is, even if I find them, I can't make them work with you if they don't want to."

"For now," Josefilo responded, "it will be enough if you would make the attempt. In truth, we didn't come necessarily expecting to receive any aid. We came merely because this news was too important to keep to ourselves. If you can help us—indeed, if there's any way we can help you—then that's a bonus."

Before considering that maybe it should have been Karenski who ventured the next step, Singer said, "Are you...opening up diplomatic relations with us, then?"

Josefilo offered his grim smile again as he said, "Possibly, I should have led with a presentation of diplomatic credentials, but of course, we are long out of practice. Yes, Commander, that is exactly why I'm here. I have been appointed ambassador to the Tau Ceti Treaty Organization."

Karenski was looking away again. Singer could tell he wanted to get up, pace, rock, fidget, something, but that was utterly the wrong body language for this meeting and he knew it. Finally, he said, "Colonel, your candor, particularly on such long-obscure topics, requires equal candor in return: I am willing to accept your credentials, to treat with you as best as I'm able, certainly to reason between us all what we might do next. However, the question of whether there is any Tau Ceti Treaty Organization left, outside of this room and a few rocks in Gliese 581, is currently in doubt."

The other man, and his aides, all looked suitably horrified. Finally, Josefilo said, "Forgive me. That...had not even occurred to me. But of course, your organization has been almost entirely space-based, with only a handful of planetary members. Once we realized—once we saw for ourselves here—what had been wrought...well...no matter. It doesn't actually change my orders. You're the current ranking authority representing what is, was, or might be the TCTO. Unless there's someone else you think I need to be talking to, my legation is here to talk to you, and those you deem it important for us to know."

Singer had no doubt, and Karenski did not disappoint her, despite his hesitation. He had no choice, really, but to apply the theory of independent command doctrine at this much higher level. There was, after all, no one else to get guidance from.

"I accept your embassage. When she returns from planetside, I will be introducing you to one Rachel O'Halloran. She's theoretically in line to become our new ambassador to David's Star, but she's here in-system, now, and we don't have a lot of other diplomatically trained individuals on hand. Shall you want to establish an embassy on station? We could probably arrange a section that would meet your needs."

Josefilo made a show of considering the question, then said, "For now, meaning no offense, we will probably continue to reside aboard our ship. Perhaps, when the arrangement feels more settled, we will take you up on your invitation."

Singer felt Karenski's secret relief, and thought she understood it. He had enough on his plate without trying to figure out, or even delegate figuring out, how to fulfill that promise of a safe space for the embassy.

Out loud, the admiral said, "That's all right, then. We'll figure it out later. Is there anything more for now?"

"After so long at arms length, it seems like there should be. In truth, however, I believe we each need some time to digest the others' news. I will send you a more detailed document on our situation, and would appreciate it if you would do the same."

Karenski nodded without hesitation, then said, "Singer's probably got the most comprehensive report available."

Singer recognized both an order and a cue when she heard one. "I'll have my comm officer talk to yours to agree on a transfer protocol, as soon as we're done here."

With that, everyone made very polite farewells, they saw their guests back to their boat and safely away, and then went back to the conference room, not so much to figure out what to do next as simply to talk about how the shape of their universe had just altered all over again.

Perhaps twenty kiloseconds later, Singer was in her office, not so much getting work done as staring at the queue of work to be done, still sort of dazed. The buzz of the intercom was a welcome distraction, and she had to school herself not to pounce on the button to answer, "Singer."

"Ensign Cordé, ma'am. Colonel Josefilo is calling for you."

Singer blinked, then said, "Put him through, please, Ensign."

"Ma'am."

The screen came to life. Apparently, protocols had already been worked out, and the video and audio came through clearly. "Elyah!"

"Ambassador," she said with a smile.

"Hah! I failed to run fast enough when Command was searching for someone who had any significant interaction with outsiders. And you, a commanding officer? You told me that was the last thing you wanted."

She shrugged. "There weren't a lot of options."

He nodded, and said, "I've read the early parts of your report. I'm...well, sorry barely covers it, does it?"

"I'm similarly unsure what to even say about your news."

"Well, tell me, do I remember correctly that your family are mostly planet-bound? Are they...?"

"They are, and I've actually seen my mother—I was there when you arrived in system, in fact."

"Well, I'm sorry to have interrupted your visit!"

"You couldn't have known. And you, Karolo?"

She saw him weigh what to tell her. She could not read him from such a distance, at least, not with her empathic senses, but she could still see him struggling. Finally, he said, "Since we last met, so long ago, I have been blessed with two daughters. The blessing, however, is mixed."

Singer caught his drift immediately, "They're both..." She could not bring herself to use the word "throwbacks", so she let it dangle.

"They were," he responded, "both born unable to breathe our atmosphere. When Klaro was born, we split our time between the dome-creche and our home; since Sofio was born, however, my wife now lives permanently with them in their dome. I visit when I can, but...duty."

Singer hoped the pity she felt was not showing on her face as she said, "I'm...well, even more at a loss."

They were both silent, then, uncertain what came next. Finally, Josefilo said, "Tell me, does your service also have the maxim, 'Nobody ever goes to war in space. It's too expensive?'"

"We do," Singer responded, puzzled.

"Well, I'll tell you, old friend, I think someone's out to prove us wrong, and on an unprecedented scale."