Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  He never should have told her about Cassidy, dammit. Now she wielded the knowledge like a godsdamn flame-thrower against him. He’d never readied a counter to such an attack, and in desperation he grasped for the old standby. “What about everything else Justice has done over the years? To innocent people, to those of us in NOIR?”

  “Blame the Guides for ordering the people working in Justice to act as they did, and be glad people like Adlai stood up to the Guides and brought an end to it.”

  He sneered, tossing a hand dismissively in her direction so he didn’t have to meet her earnest yet defiant gaze. “You will do absolutely anything to defend him, won’t you? Some friend you are, to turn on me the second a pretty face who wanted to see you naked came along.”

  “Okay, that is not fair! You have never had a better friend than me. I’ve always been there for you. I’ve defended you when you were being a first-class ass—which was often, by the way. I’ve listened to you and learned from you. When it’s mattered, I’ve risked everything for you. And I am not turning on you now.”

  “You didn’t exactly rush to rescue me when Justice took me captive, did you?” He regretted the words the instant he uttered them; they were surely a step too far…unless they weren’t, his wounded pride retorted.

  Her lips parted, and the color drained from her face. When she spoke, her voice had lost much of its former fervor. “I wanted to drop everything and bring all of NOIR to tear up the Dominion searching for you. But I thought you would believe saving thousands of people from the virutox was more important than rescuing you, so I focused our resources on distributing the vaccine first. I did what I thought was right—what I thought you would believe was right—but if I was wrong, I am deeply sorry.”

  Of course he would and did believe this, and the fact that he’d wounded her yet more deeply with this barb wounded him in turn. All her answers were so damn reasonable, and she meant every last one of them. He sensed it from the conviction in her voice and the honesty in her eyes.

  But to let go of his anger would mean facing something in himself he wasn’t ready to face. He dug around for more barbs he could fling like daggers. “What if I told you to choose? Stay with him, and you never see me again. What would you do?”

  She gasped. “Don’t you dare ask that of me. I do not deserve this from you, dammit, and by saying what you just did, you’ve already made the choice for me.”

  Joaquim stared at her, his heart hammering against his sternum and his thoughts tangling and tearing at themselves—abruptly he spun around and punched the wall behind him.

  “Jo!”

  The punch left behind a sizeable dent in the wall; streams of blood flowed down the cracks spreading out from the impact point much as it flowed down the valleys between his knuckles. The pain served its intended purpose, however; it broke through the fog of rage in his mind to, at least briefly, impose a raw, ugly clarity upon his thoughts.

  He brought his busted hand up and pressed the fingertips of both hands to his temples. She spoke nothing but truth. Certainly about the unfairness of his puerile ultimatum, probably about Justice, possibly even about Weiss. But he was quite skilled at destroying anything that might be good in his life, wasn’t he?

  His voice scraped past gritted teeth like sandpaper. “You’re right. You don’t deserve this. But I can’t…” his eyes closed, and he gave up the fight with himself “…I don’t know how to not be angry.”

  “What do you mean?” Her tone had instantly shifted from righteous defensiveness to gentle encouragement.

  “I don’t know how to not be angry. I hoped telling you about Cassidy would help. It didn’t. I hoped blowing up the Platform and the Guides with it would help. It felt damn good in the moment, but after the rush faded it hasn’t helped. We’ve accomplished damn near everything NOIR set out to do. We’ve toppled the government, and the harsh laws and penalties it had imposed are being rolled back. We’ve discovered what’s happening to the people who disappear and are putting a stop to it all.

  “But I’m still angry. At the Guides, the Advisors, Justice, the world. At you. I can’t be happy, and worse, I can’t let you be happy. I can’t let go or move on.”

  “Everything’s happened so fast. You should give yourself some time, or even consider—”

  He spun around to find she now stood less than a meter from him, palms and stance open, as if she was ready to hug him. Why was she so damn kind? He didn’t merit kindness. “Don’t say go in for an up-gen and wipe this all away. I won’t take the cowardly way out.”

  “You’re not a coward. You said it yourself. You’ve done what you set out to do. You’ve gotten justice—yes, justice—for the people the Guides have wronged. You’ve helped ensure the government will be held accountable for its actions. It’s okay to close the door on the pain of the past and start fresh, without regret or shame.”

  “Maybe for most people. But here’s the thing: I want to be angry. I want to feed it and let it fester and grow and take me over in a fiery rage. I don’t want to move on or be happy.”

  Her whole body sagged, as if someone had pulled a plug, and all the fight abandoned her in a rush. “Then I don’t know how to help you.”

  “It’s not your responsibility to help me.”

  “If you know me at all, you know it’s my responsibility to help everyone.”

  He tried to chuckle, but it came out closer to a guttural cry. Gods he was a wretched disaster.

  She shrugged. “Most of all my friends.”

  “Yeah. I guess I ought to have said, you can’t help me.” He lifted his shoulders as a resolute, calm certainty settled over him. “I need to leave.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t stay here and watch you make goo-goo eyes with the enemy.”

  She exploded in a fit of renewed indignation, her left foot stomping the floor as her hands balled into fists. “Adlai is not the enemy!”

  Better that she be furious at him. He wasn’t sure he could walk away from sad Perrin. “It doesn’t matter whether he is or not. I need to leave. Leave Mirai.”

  “Where will you go?”

  Funny how she wasn’t trying to talk him out of it. Probably meant it was the best idea he’d had in a long while. “No clue. Somewhere where there aren’t many people. Given where my head is at present, it’ll be safer for them and me.”

  “Will you tell me where you are when you get there?”

  “That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

  She extended a hand out toward him, but dropped it back to her side before it reached him. “Will I ever see you again?”

  He contemplated the floor. The blood dripping from his hand had crafted a jagged pattern of dark blotches on the carpet, and he studied them until he summoned the courage to meet her gaze. He suspected he’d be mulling over what he saw in her expression for some time.

  “Honestly? Don’t count on it. Don’t count on me.” He burned his remaining courage on brushing past her on the way to the door. “I never was a good bet.”

  10

  * * *

  MIRAI ONE PAVILION

  Nika leaned back in her chair and ran a hand through her hair as she studied a visualization of the dozens of triage actions currently in motion, hopefully toward something beneficial.

  Most of the Advisors were concentrating on keeping the government functioning—assuring basic services continued to be provided and the people didn’t riot. She appreciated their efforts, but Anavosa had a point. None of it was going to matter if the Rasu showed up next month wielding their frightening plasma beams of destruction and burnt everyone to a crisp. So, her efforts were directed toward preventing that from happening.

  Dashiel was meeting with several individuals who had come forward in answer to their call for metals experts; if their ideas showed promise, they’d join the multi-planet group of people trying to decipher how the Rasu so effortlessly formed themselves into an endless variety of shapes and pur
poses, including bleeding-edge technology and weapons.

  At the same time, the best scientists the Dominion had to offer pored through the meager direct data they had on the Rasu, studying every iota of signals and transmissions the Rasu emitted for clues to their capabilities and hints of their weaknesses.

  Gods, she hoped they had weaknesses.

  “Nika, someone’s here to see you. He says he’s expected.”

  She shifted around in her chair to see Katherine blocking Grant Mesahle from stepping through the doorway. As part of Administration’s inexorable takeover of their new headquarters, Katherine was making a hard play at becoming the sole arbiter of who was and wasn’t allowed on the premises.

  She’d totally forgotten that she’d asked Grant to come to Mirai to install power and weapons upgrades on the Wayfarer. “He is. Grant, thank you for coming.”

  Katherine shot Grant a glower as she stepped aside and allowed him into the room, which they’d intended to serve as an all-hands group meeting room but had instantly devolved into free-for-all chaos.

  He arched an eyebrow as Nika stood to greet him. “This is all…insane. Busy taking over the world, I see.”

  “Busy trying to hold it together. Let me touch base with a couple of people, then we’ll head to the spaceport.” She glanced around until she spotted Maris talking to Cameron, then got her attention and waved her over. “Maris, can I talk to you for a second?”

  When Maris reached them, she dipped her chin in Grant’s direction. “Grant? It has been a while.”

  He returned the greeting. “A few thousand years, give or take. You look as lovely as ever, of course.”

  Nika stared at them both in surprise. “Wait, you two know each other?”

  Grant’s expression flickered oddly, but he kept his attention focused on Maris. “You haven’t told her yet?”

  “I was working up to it. We have been a mite preoccupied. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit flummoxed myself at this unexpected…” she gestured between him and Nika “…encounter. How is it you’re here now?”

  “Excuse me. What the hells are you on about?”

  Grant continued to ignore her in favor of responding to Maris. “We met coincidentally several years ago, through some NOIR people. Like I assume everyone else did, I thought she’d sunsetted. That’s what we were told. I was only following the rules.”

  Nika’s confusion ratcheted upward, where it joined growing unease. “You never struck me as a rules-following kind of guy.”

  He finally pivoted to her. “Some rules are worth following. Nika, I am so sorry. If I’d known you’d been psyche-wiped, I would have intervened. I would have helped you recover your identity. I would have contacted Maris, for starters. I feel terrible about it, but I didn’t know, because you didn’t tell me.”

  “I realize I didn’t…wait, ‘sunsetted’? ‘Rules’? Will someone please tell me what the bloody hells you two are talking about?”

  Maris sighed with characteristic flair. “Yes, as it seems I have in fact waited for too long to do so. But not here. Can we go to your flat?”

  The unease snaked through Nika’s chest and squeezed. What secret was so grave that it required not merely privacy, but extreme and lengthy privacy? “Okay, if you think it’s necessary.”

  Grant fidgeted. “I guess I can come back later.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sending you the passcode to the Wayfarer’s hangar. I trust you, especially given how it used to be your ship. Ping me if you run into any issues.”

  He nodded. “I will. And Nika…I really am sorry.”

  NIKA’S FLAT

  When they reached the flat, Maris promptly went to the kitchen and fixed herself a drink, then sipped on it as she considered the living room. “Well. This is a fabulous mess, but it’s so wonderful to be here again with you.”

  “I had eleven people sleeping here last night. Stop stalling. What happened back there? How do you know Grant? What’s ‘sunsetting’? What have you been working up to and failing to tell me?”

  “To be fair, I expected you to realize it yourself. You took the time and care to encrypt vital and special memories to help guide you back to your true identity and former life, but you didn’t think to include this one crucial little detail in those memories? I suppose it was such an intrinsic part of your psyche, it didn’t occur to you that you needed to spell it out. Or perhaps what you assumed would be obvious is simply unfathomable when viewed from the outside.”

  “Maris, out with it, now.”

  Her friend twirled the stem of her glass between her fingertips and leveled a piercing, almost chilling gaze on Nika. “You are one of the First Generation.”

  “Yes, I can trace my ancestral lineage all the way back to the First Generation. In fact, one of the memories I recovered was from the end of the SAI Rebellion—”

  “No, not trace. Not ancestral. You are First Generation.”

  “I don’t understand. How is it different?”

  “It means that since the time we fled the Anaden Empire with our rebellion in tatters, since the time you disembarked your generation ship and stepped foot on Synra’s soil, since the time you merged fully with your bonded SAI, you have never undergone a full Retirement & Reinitialization. You’ve tweaked and modded and improved and fiddled, as we all do, but your mind has remained a cognizant, unbroken whole since it was born as an Asterion soul.”

  She grasped for the first argument she could find so she didn’t have to absorb what Maris had just said. “Until five years ago, anyway.”

  “I don’t think so. In the ways which truly matter, your psyche-wipe failed. It may have taken most of your memories, but you were and have always been far too clever to let anyone take your mind from you.”

  She sank onto the couch and dropped her head into her hands. It was too much to ponder…and yet, somehow, right. True. She knew it in her soul. Still she resisted, though, because it was also ridiculous.

  “How can you be sure? I might have made it all up and told you grand stories in order to sound impressive.”

  Maris laughed warmly. “You were never much for lying. But you didn’t have to lie to me. I’ve been there for it all, for I, too, am First Generation.”

  She looked up, startled. “The memory of the founding of Mirai…it wasn’t our ancestors? It was us?”

  “I remember the day fondly. Gods, that water was freezing!”

  Nika’s head spun. Fragments of pieces of memories and incongruities scrambled to rearrange themselves within a frame whose contours had finally been revealed. This was why the encrypted memories spanned so many millennia, yet why they all felt so intensely personal.

  “And Grant? Are you suggesting he’s also First Generation? That’s why you know him?”

  “Indeed.”

  “But he’s just a…craftsman.”

  “He’s living a life of his choosing. Such as it is for most of the remaining First Generation, few though they are. They left behind politics and power games long ago to find their purpose in the smaller joys of living. You and I are rather unusual, to continue to lead public lives in the service of the Dominion government after so long.”

  There was a larger point in what Maris had said that she wanted to think on, but her overwhelmed mind was firmly stuck on the previous reveal. “I’m a little weirded out by the fact that he slept with me while knowing this about me—knowing who I used to be.”

  “You were lovers? Some things never do change. My dear, you’ve known Grant for 700,000 years, and you were unattached for sizeable slices of those millennia. This dalliance you apparently enjoyed with him the last few years? Trust me, it wasn’t the first time.”

  Nika’s jaw dropped. She felt dizzy.

  “What? You like each other. You always have.”

  “But…we don’t love each other?”

  “Precisely. It’s a perfectly natural way for friends to pass the millennia. And don’t worry, you didn’t cheat on Dashiel with him. Or with any
one. So boringly faithful always.”

  “It’s not boring to be faithful to someone you love.” She stood. She needed to pace. She needed a drink. “Okay, I’ll file Grant away for now, because there are more important issues. What you said about most of the other First Generation—do you mean the other Advisors aren’t?”

  “Blake is, I regret to say. He’s like a cockroach. Everyone wishes he would die off, but he just keeps sticking around. We’re all the Advisors, though. Charles Basquan, our current benefactor, whom you’ve met, is also First Generation. I dare not guess whether you’ve met any others. I didn’t anticipate Grant, so who can say?”

  “And the Guides—former Guides.”

  “No. They’re all quite old, but none retain their original psyches.”

  She grabbed a glass from a kitchen cabinet and set it too hard on the counter, then poured the rest of a bottle of cabernet into it. “Do they know about us?”

  “Oh, yes, which makes their decision to psyche-wipe you triply reprehensible. To willfully attempt to extinguish a life that has thrived across so many aeons.” Maris shivered visibly. “But they failed, and now they’re being punished.”

  Nika gulped down a sip of the cabernet and tried to focus. Questions needing answers. “What’s ‘sunsetting’?”

  “That’s what we call it when one of us willingly erases themselves and undergoes a full Retirement and Reinitialization. Sailing off into the sunset, as it were.”

  “Does it happen a lot?”

  “My dear, do the math. When we arrived on Synra, everyone was First Generation. All 38,118 of us. Now, there are at last count twenty-eight of us drawing breath as our original selves.” Maris cast a soulful look toward the afternoon sunlight streaming in the windows.