“Of course, as we got closer to the Capella system, scavenging increased, which increased our thrust. Bootstrapping, you see. Then, two and a half years ago, we reversed thrust. Began the process of deceleration.”
“Doesn’t sound like anything but prudent and competent spacing, Captain.”
“Yes, ma’am. The problem was the transportees. The hydroponics system had an operational life of four years. We were looking at ten. The only way to extend the hydroponics to last ten years was to reduce the demand put upon the system.”
Aguila’s face might have been carved from cold stone. No trace of emotion showed in her glacial-blue stare.
Galluzzi’s heart began to pound. His mouth had gone dry. “I gave first priority to my crew. If they died, the ship died. We survived the cut in rations because we had a command structure. Discipline. A purpose. A bond that went deeper than mere shared humanity. But the transportees . . .”
Aguila’s eyes narrowed the least bit, her lips pursed. “Did you euthanize them all?”
Euthanize?
“No, ma’am!” Galluzzi choked down a swallow. “They were panicked. Desperate. They could do the math as well as we could. Enough of them worked in hydroponics that it was common knowledge: Over time, feeding that many people, the vats were going to break down. Didn’t matter that we didn’t have enough fuel to invert symmetry in an attempt to return to Solar System, some of them decided they were going to seize the ship, space for Solar System. They made a violent try for the AC.”
Galluzzi winced, remembering the bodies in the corridors. Blood pooling on the sialon.
“We held the ship, ma’am. Beat them back. They withdrew to Deck Three. Before they could reorganize and try for the command deck again, I had the hatches sealed. Welded. But for that, we’d never have saved Ashanti. Or the crew. Or any of the transportees.”
“But you saved some?” she asked thoughtfully.
He couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him. Tried to still the memories. His hand was jerking despite being stuffed under his belt. The images that lurked behind his every thought drifted up like vaporous apparitions. To tell it to another person, someone who hadn’t lived the horror, left him on the verge of tears.
How did he explain?
“What they did to each other down there? We saw, ma’am. At least in the beginning before they blacked out the cameras. It was . . . It . . .”
He couldn’t stop the shakes.
Stop it! You’re the captain!
He sucked in a breath, flexed every muscle in his body.
“I take it they turned on each other?” Aguila asked softly.
“With the critical ship’s systems isolated from the transportees’ deck, Ashanti continued to function as best she could. A food ration, insufficient as it was, was delivered to them by conveyor from the hydroponics, air and water circulated. Yes, we isolated the transportees, sealed them into Deck Three, but we gave them every support we could. Those were human beings in there. Families. Men, and women, and children.”
“How many are still alive, Captain?”
“Not sure, ma’am. We inverted symmetry off Neptune with four hundred and fifty-two aboard. Eighty-seven were crew. Three hundred and sixty-five transportees, including the Maritime Unit. As of today, I have sixty-three crew. Counting the children born since transit began, there are thirty-two in the Maritime Unit. We estimate the population of the Irredenta at around ninety to a hundred.”
“So, they’re still sealed in your Deck Three?” Aguila’s expression betrayed nothing. She seemed to be taking the news with an almost stoic acceptance. Why?
“Yes, well . . .”
After the “rats” had devoured themselves, they had “evolved” to be such . . . what? How did he describe the Irredenta without sounding like he’d lost his mind?
“Supervisor, we have a voice com still linked to Deck Three, and on occasion messages are passed. The Irredenta—the word refers to a culturally autonomous region existing under foreign control. Well, they don’t exactly carry on sophisticated conversations. Mostly it’s just propaganda about their Prophets. Their leader is a man named Batuhan. Thinks he’s some sort of messiah. They say he interprets for the Prophets, whoever they are. What they send us sounds like raving. Supposed prophecies about what they call the coming ‘Annihilation.’ Some sort of violent spiritual cleansing of the universe.”
“Messiah? Prophets?” Shig Mosadek, who’d sat silently, now asked.
“The Irredenta’s leader, this Batuhan, is a fifty-year-old electrical engineer. Trained at the university at Ulaanbaatar, he was contracted on Transluna to install a new solar panel array for one of the outlying research bases on Capella III. Instead, after all the bloodshed, he’s ended up as a sort of messianic leader among the Irredenta.”
“Messiahs come in all forms,” Mosadek replied.
“Sir.” Galluzzi fought the urge to pull at his too-tight collar. “If I told you some of the things Batuhan’s Irredenta have done down there, you’d call me mad. That human beings could descend to the kind of demonic . . .”
He winced, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He didn’t dare lose it. Not in front of the Supervisor.
Thankfully Benj said, “We’re forwarding all the records to Vixen. We want you to have plenty of time to review them before we arrive at Capella III.”
Aguila had pursed her lips. “What happens if you unseal their deck?”
Benj spoke. “They’d murder us wholesale. Turn us into sacrifices. Cut up and eat our bodies. All in the name of their—”
“Did you say eat?” Aguila arched a scarred brow.
Shig had straightened, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
Benj’s voice strained. “Some sort of belief that the universe must consume itself to be reborn in purity. That’s according to Batuhan and his doctrine of holy annihilation. They think they’re divine soldiers, chosen to carry their truth into the universe. They see existence as warfare. That the universe was designed to hone the fittest through perpetual self-consuming conflict. According to Batuhan’s propaganda, their first trial will be the elimination of all the heretics aboard Ashanti. They see the ship as an interstellar womb, and as soon as they burst out of Deck Three, it will be like a birth of rage and fire.”
“Fascinating,” Shig murmured, his gaze intensifying.
Aguila asked, “Have they said anything about what happens after their arrival at Donovan?”
“Sure,” Benj said. “Capella III is supposed to be the home that nurtures their development. Their ‘childhood’ as they call it. As they mature, the planet is supposed to be the springboard from which they shall spread out into the universe and either convert or destroy anyone who stands in their way.”