6 Billion A.D./The League Fights Back

Tentative Synopsis: The League fights back, but Rigel's loyalty is tested after Sophiy's death.

The Splunks

Gas clouds gathered over the viewport.

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Vespa sat up in her bunk. What if, she asked herself, it wasn't a virus at all? What if, instead, they were dealing with some other organism? Perhaps even a different type of organism? Was it multicellular? Was it a new kingdom?

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Rushing back to the data center, she almost forgot to put on her uniform. There, in the dark -- the automatic lights hadn't gone on at this hour, and she didn't bother to turn on any other lights -- Vespa focused in on her visor.

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Plants, animals, fungi, bacteria, archaea, virii. Something else? It had been millennia since anyone had revised that taxonomy. What if there were a missing kingdom?

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Setting to work, Vespa modeled various organisms that could match the symptoms produced in victims of the pandemic. It looked like it came from a virus. Maybe it was a single-celled organism with a different cell type? A completely different layout at its heart?

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She went back to basics. Remodeling a new species. She started by assembling DNA strands. Finding that the model automatically produced mitochondria, and certain common cellular processes, she began tweaking parameters. As she adjusted the data, her visor almost instantly updated to show the developing species.

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Gradually, organisms took shape. The new kingdom models crawled around her visor. She watched in amazement as an unprecedented life form moved about.

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The "splunks", as she had begun referring to them, oozed into the shapes of colonies in Vespa's visor. Splunks were not virii, although they did bear some resemblance. However, they had a different method of reproducing, in which cells half-merged with each other while dividing. A sort of mix of cell division and sexual reproduction. This seemed to imbue the splunks with an ability to adapt to their environment more rapidly, although they reproduced more slowly than virii.

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She began the tests. In her model, Vespa poured various virtual acids, bases, radioactive materials, and other data onto her splunks. In each case, the splunks survived. Often, they came out of the tests even stronger than before.

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For weeks, Vespa experimented with her virtual splunks. She didn't mention them to her supervsor, her coworkers, or anyone. On occasion she thought of saying something to Rigel. She wasn't entirely sure why she thought of telling him, but for some reason he was the one who came to mind. Still, she continued to work in secret.

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Vespa's private trove of splunks multiplied. The populations did well, taking over a good chunk of her allotted storage capacity. Vespa removed many of her old virus models, to make room for the new splunks.

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After the local equivalent of a month, her coworkers suspected something was up. Vespa often came into work in a huff, even more so than usual. She seemed possessed, having a certain excitement. From a suspicion, her coworkers developed a curiosity, then an insistence on finding out what she was doing.

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"Is it work-related?" one of Vespa's coworkers asked her.

"Is what work-related?" she replied.

"You know," he said suggestively, not wanting to give away any ground.

Vespa didn't understand. She thought he may have been alluding to her occasional meetings with Rigel. "Oh, no. Well, yes, sort of. It's not part of work directly, but I suppose there's some connection."

"I see," said the coworker, contemplating the implications.

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Vespa's splunks soon became locally famous. The cat was out of the bag. After her coworkers found out, her supervisor found out. Soon, he was having splunk meetings, splunk teams, splunk projects, splunk everything.

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"So far, they've reproduced the symptoms in our experiments far better than any other candidate," wrote Vespa's supervisor in his work records. He would send these records back to the League base on a regular schedule. "Not yet sure whether these are the culprit. However, they are the first real possibility we've encountered."

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"That's exhilarating!" exclaimed Rigel. She had finally told him, later than she had first wanted to, but at least she was the one to break it to him.

"Yeah, we're all fairly excited in the data center," she said.

"So, does this mean that a cure is around the corner?"

"Not exactly," she said, losing some of her color. "It's now a possibility, but it's still a long ways away, if at all."

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Looking out of her viewport again, Vespa dreamed of a cure. She pictured her splunks leaping out of her visor, into production. Into matter, into real test tubes. She could see her splunks undergoing routing medical tests. Maybe even passing. Maybe leading to a cure for a disease that had already taken millions of lives.

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Vespa slept. It was the first time in months that she got a full night's sleep. When she awoke she was feeling chipper. What a difference, after all those dark, difficult days and nights in the data center!

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In production, the workers looked skeptically at the model. "What, we're supposed to make this?" asked one. "It's not even a virus. Looks sort of like one, or a failed one. But I'm not sure what this is, or how we're supposed to produce it."

"Well, that's your job. To figure out how to produce it," said the production manager.

Several staff were tasked with turning the splunks into reality. It wasn't as obvious as Vespa had thought. Some of her chemical substitutions made for weak bonds, which resulted in a somewhat unstable biological configuration. Also, the production tools were mostly targeted for making virii or other existing organisms. It would take some serious efforts to produce her splunks.

Battle Orders

Spaceships maneuvered through each others' ranks. When the shiny fleet approached Rigel's line, Rigel's side seemed to disappear.

In volleys, opposing sides passed through each other. As in battles from so many years ago that they were long forgotten. Yet, somehow the traces of those battles remained. Different technologies, different tactics.

From watching one would think that the opposing sides were dancing rather than fighting. Each side went by the other without so much as brushing against it. Where were the strikes?

Here and there, almost invisibly to the untrained eye, one side took out a ship from the other side. These losses were minimal from a certain standpoint. Yet, cumulatively, they resulted in a tilt in the balance of power.

Morp stared angrily at the display in his visor. "What is this?!"

A crew member walked up to his side. "Sir, this is for you," he said, handing Morp a sealed package.

As virii had battled within and outside of their ancestors' bodies for billions of years, and as their ancestors had battled nearby tribes -- and each other -- for so many years, the opposing sides found any advantage they could. Yet, for all their work, the other side found their own advantages, equaling out the results.

Rigel had an idea.

Grabbing the controls, he paused where otherwise he would have swooped up into battle. Hovering above the central plane of the battlefield, he watched Morp's troops advance for three full seconds, five full seconds, seven full seconds. Then he suddenly dove into battle, sideswiping a pressing opponent. Score one.

Did it affect the outcome? It did. As opposing fleets continued diving into each other, Rigel continued to improve his pause-and-swoop maneuver.

It seemed to throw off the patters, the rhythms of the enemy.

Gradually, slowly, Rigel took out more and more ships. Five, ten, fifteen.

Slowly, the battle shifted in favor of Rigel's side.

Soon enough, he knew, the enemy would relay the results back to their headquarters. The enemy analysts would figure out his pattern. They would develop a counterattack. But, at least for the moment, Rigel had handed his allies an important victory.

And, perhaps more importantly, Rigel had developed a technique that would enable him to make further headway.

On and off the battlefield. If such a distinction could be made.

Back at base, Rigel removed his uniform, switching into civvies

"Good job," his squad leader said.

"So, do I get an award, or what?" Rigel asked.

"Don't worry, you'll get a reward," his captain answered.

Rigel looked over his dirty uniform. The stains, the smells, they washed over him in a wave of pleasure

Plants Unleashed

Vespa had packed the plant parts for her use, not realizing that these parts could reproduce. A few traces of the plant had fallen out of her uniform. This plant reproduced by cloning, but by an uncommon mechanism which could reproduce from even a few cells.

The plants soon spread throughout the Order megaship. In small corners, invisible bits of plant matter reproduced, becoming ubiquitous.

On occasion, Order chemistry procedures failed mysteriously. It was due to the plant parts, which altered the pH and other properties of the ambient air. The Order had not recognized the plant invasion.

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The Vermitrius claris plant reproduced plentifully onboard the Order ship. Having evolved for zero-g conditions, it had no problems there.

The root cells propagated, regrowing their roots and sending out thin, almost invisible shoots. From these shoots, small leaves developed, which had a prismatic shape. The plant also produced flowers, quite ornate but small. These flowers sent out trillions of reproductive cells, which were shaped efficiently for distribution through zero-g.

The net effect was for the ship to become laden with the Vermitrius plants. While small enough to evade detection for the most part, they filled the air with their pollen, which had a comparable effect to their roots -- revealing scientific truths in geometric shapes.

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Research on the Order ship took off. Without knowing why, chemists and other scientists onboard began having visions. These visions proved effective so often in the labs, that the scientists soon started performing experiments on the basis of whatever visions they had.

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"Did someone spike the water supply?" one chemical technician joked, when asked to perform a relatively complicated task. Unbeknownst to him, the Vermitrius claris had basically the same effect as spiking the water.

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"We have half the galaxy under quarantine, and we still can't stop new cases from arising?"

"Uh, yes, sir, that accurately describes the facts."

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A long corridor of ships cruised through open space.

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Some were equipped for battle. Others were transports, with large carrying capacities.

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In the middle of the pack, surrounded by heavily armed battleships, a ship full of medical personnel and politicians pushed on. In an unprecedented decision, the epidemiology team had been sent right into the fray. After years of investigations, the pandemic continued to worsen, and now key personnel had disappeared from the advance ships.

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Rigel prepared for battle. As a soldier of the Order, he had progressed rapidly. Despite his sadness at the death of Sophiy, and his own personal tragedy of suffering from the disease, Rigel had committed himself to the service.

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Soon the Order had a new range of ships, new weapons, and new fusion plants. All more efficient than the previous ones. Of course, the advances couldn't be entirely chalked up to the Vermitrius that Vespa had let loose -- only around ninety-nine percent.

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Tragic Loss

I lost the will to fight after Sophiy's death. This great illusion of being a hero that I created came crumbling down. I don’t know what I felt. I felt nothing.

Still, deep inside, I knew that there was more than this. I knew in my head, even if I didn't feel it, that there would come a time when I had a renewed vigor.

The Victory of the Order

Morp raiseed a triumphant glass.

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"Our products, our policies, may not be popular throughout space," he said with a knowing smile. "Yet, they have proven over and over again to work. And that is what we are all about: victory!"

The crowds erupted into thunderous applause.

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The Order had engineered a different outcome, yet again. Even without realizing how their fomentation of another collapse fit into their societal ancestry, the Order had continued a story that started long before.

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"The League's error was to fall for their own lies. Oh, for them it wasn't a lie, it was just the way things seemed. That's what made the lies so effective."

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, they acted as though the world's going to end. That makes them feel like big heroes. Then, even worse, they act like they'll be the only ones to have an extra chance, a few more years than the rest of us. Right!"

"So what would you say instead?"

"I'd say that we're all here, with no distinction. So it's up to each of us how to act. And that lets us, our Order, put forward the necessary efforts to speed up the collapse. Which will not have the harmful consequences that those failures foresaw."

"Interesting."

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