Justine was ridiculously proud of the way none of them seemed able to match the Silverbird’s acceleration. It had taken the ultradrive ship just a few seconds to reach an altitude of five hundred kilometers, where it stopped to scrutinize the last minutes of Centurion Station. Another gravity wave shook the hull so violently that the onboard gravity generator barely could counter it. Justine felt a distinct shiver run through the cabin. The unnamed planet curved away below the fuselage, its ancient geology stubbornly resistant to the worst effects of the awesome gravity waves washing invisibly through its mantle. Underneath her, the hot Ethox tower was the first to succumb, rocking from side to side until the undulations became too great to be compensated for by the safety systems. It toppled with slow grace to shatter against the unyielding lava. Big waves of water cascaded out from splits in the Suline tanks, pushing a spume of debris ahead of them. Flying spray quickly solidified into sharp needles of hail, to be reabsorbed by the dark water. Inevitably, the cold won, producing a rumpled ice lake three kilometers across. Thin gray clouds streamed out of cracks in both the human and the Forleene domes, quickly dissipating in the weak gusts of argon.
In an astonishingly short time the structures were flattened, joining the greater enclave of ruins that marked the site where hundreds of alien species had spent millennia observing the terrible, enigmatic Void at the center of the galaxy. Justine switched her attention to the wounded sky above. As if they could feel what was happening beyond the Wall stars, the massive ion storms were seething with a rare angry sheen, brighter than any she’d seen in her brief time at the station.
The Silverbird was tracking the Raiel’s gas-giant-size DF spheres as they continued their flight across the star system. Gravity waves spilled out from them with astonishing force, distorting the orbits within the main asteroid rings. A couple of small moons caught in the backwash also had changed inclination. All nine of the DFs were heading in toward the small orange star around which Centurion Station’s never-named planet was in orbit. As the ship watched, the photosphere started to dim.
“Holy crap,” Justine yelped. The DFs had to be drawing power directly from the star. She wondered how they would manifest it. The effect was fascinating, almost countering the anxiety she felt. There had been a few minutes after the emergency had begun when she’d seriously thought Centurion Station was where her body would finally die.
As if sharing her thought, Lehr Trachtenberg opened a channel to all the human starships. “Status report, please. Is everyone all right?”
“I’m fine,” she reported back to the CNE Dalfrod, where he was embarked, along with the senior staff.
Once he’d established that all his own staff members were safe, the director exchanged messages with the alien craft ascending out of the atmosphere. They all confirmed that everyone had escaped intact. They had to assume the Kandra were safe, as the enigmatic cube didn’t respond to any communication.
“We’ll return to the Commonwealth immediately,” Trachtenberg announced. “From what the observation systems can ascertain, we should manage to stay ahead of the boundary. It’s expanding at about three or four light-years an hour. That gives us a huge safety margin.”
“Is the data still coming in?” Justine asked.
“Some of it. It’s patchy now; there’s a lot going on in the Wall we don’t understand. I expect most of the disturbances we’re registering are coming from the Raiel defense systems, but even so, we can keep a reduced watch until the sensors are overcome. We’re relaying as much as we can to the Navy Exploration Division center back home.”
“I see.”
Justine watched the other starships reach her altitude, feeling strangely annoyed with them and herself. Surely there was something else to be done other than simply flee. It smacked not a little of cowardice, ignorant peasants cowering from the lightning storm, howling that the gods were angry, looking for a sacrifice to appease them. And we stopped that nonsense millennia ago. Yet for all our enlightenment, we’re right back there, sheltering from the onslaught in our nice dry cave. Then the ships were accelerating past her, starting to disperse as they headed back toward their home stars. The Forleene were the first to go FTL, slipping faster than the speed of light down into wormholes that closed immediately.
The Silverbird’s cabin rocked again. Eighty million miles away the DFs were streaking into a low orbit against the darkening star. The motion hardened her determination. This is not the way it should be.
“Dad?”
“Still here.”
“What have the Raiel said about the expansion?”
“Sweet fuck-all. The High Angel is a lifeboat, remember. Their defense systems are all concentrated around your part of the galaxy. Anyway, we can hardly blame them for not telling us anything. Right now every sentient species in the galaxy is pissed at us over the Pilgrimage, and who can blame them? I’m pissed at us.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going in,” she said, surprising herself at the speed of the thought.
“You’re doing what?”
“Heading into the Void.” Even as she told him, she was instructing the smartcore, laying down the course. Fast. Before I chicken out.
“You’re doing no such thing, my girl.”
The Silverbird dropped smoothly into hyperspace, heading in toward the Wall stars at fifty light-years an hour. “Tell him,” she said to her father. “Tell the Second Dreamer. Get him to ask the Skylord to let me in. Once I’m in, once I’m talking to the Skylord direct, I’ll try to explain the situation, the damage their boundary is causing.”
“Get your ass back here right fucking now!”
“Dad. No. This is our chance at a diplomatic solution. The Raiel have tried force for a million years. It doesn’t work.”
“Come back. You can’t get in. This thing is killing the whole fucking galaxy. Your ship—”
“Humans can get in; we already know that. Somehow we can do it. And if the Second Dreamer helps me, I’ll stand a really good chance.”
“This is insane.”
“I have to do this, Dad. Somebody has to make the effort. We have to try a human method. We’re part of this galaxy now, a big part. It’s our turn to attempt our way. We have the right.” The blood was pounding in her ears as she hyped herself up. “I’m going to carry the torch for all of us. If I fail, then … we try something else. That’s being human, too.”
“Justine.”
Over thirty thousand light-years she could feel his anguish. For a split second she shared it. “Dad, if anyone can get to the Second Dreamer, if anyone can make them see reason, it’s you, it’s the Gore Burnelli. All he has to do is tell the Skylord I’m out here. Ask him. Beg him. Offer him riches. Whatever it takes. You can do it. Please, Dad.”
“Goddamn. Why are you always so fucking difficult?”
“I’m your daughter.”
Bitter laughter echoed across the stars. “Of course I’ll ask. I’ll do a damn sight more than that. If he doesn’t get down on his knees and beg that Skylord, he’ll wish all he faces is oblivion in the expansion.”
“Now, don’t start threatening people,” she rebuked immediately.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’ll try to keep a channel open to Centurion Station’s relay as long as I can. The navy systems are tough; they should hold out a while yet.”
“Okay, I’ll go find me the little bit responsible for this almighty screwup.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Godspeed.”
At three o’clock in the morning Chris Turner left the staff canteen on the east side of Colwyn City’s docks and grimaced at the rain spattering onto his face. He’d hoped the unseasonal weather front would blow over while he was taking his break. But no, the thick clouds showed no sign of relenting. His semiorganic jacket rolled a collar up around his neck, and he hurried back to the maintenance depot.
Chris couldn’t see anything moving in the docks tonight. Not that other nights were much differen
t. Nighttime staffing levels were low. Bots were off-line for maintenance, which was why he’d pulled this grotty shift—it wasn’t popular, but it paid well. Transocean barges stayed moored to the quay while their crews slept or clubbed the night away in town. Warehouses were shut.
There wasn’t any activity in the city, either. The rain had put a halt to the usual nightlife. Capsules and ground vehicles had hauled the last optimistic revelers back to their homes a long time ago. He could just make out the huge single-span arch bridge over the Cairns, its lights a hazy smear through the rain. Normally there would be something driving over it or a few taxis sliding along its metro rail. Not tonight, though. He shivered. The city like this was actually kind of spooky. To counter the feeling of isolation, he reached down into the gaiafield to gain some emotional comfort from the eternal thoughts whirling within it. The usual busy background babble slithered around him like noisy specters, thoughts that called mournfully and eagerly, feelings that intrigued, though he shied away from the sadder ones.
A little more comfortable now that he knew there were other humans still alive and awake, Chris quickened his pace. There were another eight general-purpose bots that needed an overhaul before morning. Even with the company smartcore interfaced with the engineering bays back in the maintenance depot, he’d be hard-pressed to finish on time. Yet again he wondered if the pay for late shift was truly worth the cost. His friends only ever got to see him on the weekends, and then his sleep pattern made him lousy company.
He walked along the long line of landing pads, boots splashing in the puddles that were expanding over the vast apron of concrete. Gentle green-tinged ripples reflected the luminescence given off by the lighting globes on their high posts overhead. Thick droplets spattered down noisily from the dark hulls of parked starships.
Up in front and ten meters above the slick concrete a small star flared blue-violet. Chris’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. You couldn’t work in the starship business, even in a peripheral position like his, without knowing the signature spectrum of Cherenkov radiation. “That’s wrong,” he said dumbly.
The star vanished, and the air where it had been rippled. Chris suddenly was staring at a perfect black circle whose base touched the ground. The blackness changed again, lightening to blue-gray, then receding at a speed that made him giddy. Instinct brought his arms up for balance; he was certain he was falling forward. When he steadied himself, he was looking along an infinite tunnel. Its softly glowing fabric brightened intolerably as dazzling sunlight streamed out. Not Viotia’s sun, he knew. This was another star altogether.
The light dimmed for a moment as a big capsule slipped out of the opening. Chris scurried away to one side. He could see that the wormhole had lowered itself so that the bottom quarter was now below ground level, giving the long line of armor-clad figures a broad flat path to march through from their world. Above them, capsules slid through nose to tail. Boots were hitting the wet concrete in a steady rhythm, echoing around the high walls of the dock buildings. It was an eerily brutal sound, Chris thought. Over a hundred of the soldiers were on the Viotia side already. Soldiers? But what else could he call them?
Finally, the impossibility he was witnessing started to register. His u-shadow was throwing out frantic emergency calls to his family, friends, work colleagues, company offices, the police, the mayor, government … His mind let loose a powerful wail of shock into the gaiafield, which drew some instant reactions of surprise from local sharers, who immediately became curious indeed as his vision opened to them.
“You there!” an amplified voice boomed from the first rank of the marching figures. There must have been thirty capsules in the air now, starting to accelerate out across the city, and still more were rushing through. From his angle, the wormhole provided Chris with a narrow window out across the vast field on the other side. Warm afternoon sunlight shone down cozily on row after row of armored figures, thousands of them—tens of thousands. Most of them were in shadow from the armada of regrav capsules suspended in the air above.
Chris Turner turned and started to run.
“Halt,” the harsh voice commanded. “We are the legitimate police of Viotia, accredited by your Prime Minister. Halt now or face the consequences.”
Chris kept on running. This couldn’t be happening. This was the Commonwealth. It was safe, and it was comfortable. People with guns didn’t invade from other planets, not even in troubled times like these. Not happening!
“Last warning. Halt.”
His family was starting to respond to his frantic calls. Those he shared himself with through the gaiafield were producing the same dismayed reaction as his own. Then the janglepulse struck, and Chris was unconscious before he hit the wet concrete.
The Elvin’s Payback was only an hour out from Viotia when the shit hit the fan. Everyone on board went quiet at more or less the same time as their u-shadows reported the news that was breaking into the unisphere. They accessed in astonishment as images of armored paramilitary police and their support capsules poured out of the worm-hole in Colwyn City’s docks. In a carefully choreographed political sequence the Cleric Conservator’s office on Ellezelin formally issued a public invitation to Viotia to join the Free Trade Zone. It was swiftly followed by Viotia’s Prime Minister accepting on behalf of her planet. One minute later the wormhole had opened.
Oscar Monroe wasn’t the least surprised when Paula called him on a secure link a couple of minutes later. “We knew they were planning annexation,” Paula said. “The trigger factor has to be the Second Dreamer.”
“That figures,” Oscar said. “Everyone’s scared crapless over the devourment phase. If we do manage to get hold of him, I’d like to shake some sense into the stupid bastard myself.”
“I think the devourment has taken Living Dream by surprise as much as everyone else. The dream simply confirmed his location for them. They’re acting on that.”
Oscar reviewed some of the images relayed by reporters who’d gathered around the edge of the docks. “So we can safely assume he’s in Colwyn City.”
“Yes, but they don’t know exactly where. If they had an accurate fix, their embedded agents would have simply run a covert snatch operation. This is an indicator of Ethan’s desperation. Our sources on the ground indicate they’re shutting down all traffic in and out of the city—ground, air, and space.”
“Closing the noose.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make our mission any easier. We’ll have to infiltrate through the perimeter.”
“Don’t complicate things. I’d suggest you simply fly straight down into the docks.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Not at all. Get the smartcore to display the ship’s stealth function to you. I don’t believe that Living Dream has anything on Viotia that can detect you at night in the rain.”
“Oh, crap. All right.”
The link ended, and he turned to his shipmates to explain.
“I can insert some software that will help cover our approach,” Liatris McPeierl said. “Their network is already growing out from the docks. I’m monitoring its development through the unisphere, but I can crack the junction nodes. That’ll let me into their sensors and command links.”
“The docks will be a good position,” Tomansio said. “It puts us in right at the heart of their operation. I don’t care how dense their network is or how powerful their smartcores, it will be chaotic down there to start with. That provides us with a golden opportunity.”
“All right,” Oscar said. “You guys are the experts. Tell me what approach route you want.”
Forty minutes later Elvin’s Payback emerged into real space a thousand kilometers above Colwyn City. It was already fully stealthed, capable of avoiding the most advanced military-grade sensors: a huge case of overkill. Viotia’s civil space detectors could barely locate a starship out at geosynchronous orbit when its beacon was signaling. So far, the Ellezelin forces pouring into
the docks hadn’t established any kind of sensor coverage above the atmosphere. They were concentrating on tracking capsule traffic in the city and apprehending anyone who tried to leave. Nobody was looking for craft coming into the area. The commercial starships that had arrived after the annexation had begun were staying in orbit, awaiting developments and clear orders from their owners.
Following Tomansio’s directions, Oscar brought the starship straight down above the estuary a couple of miles outside the city. It was still raining, the swollen river covered by rolling clouds. With a high-intensity optical distortion shimmering around its fuselage, the ovoid starship looked like a particularly dense patch of drizzle in the few wisps of somber starlight that diffused through the clouds. Electronic sensors simply lost focus, and mass scanners were unable to find anything heavier than air in the space it occupied. Even Higher field functions, if there had been any operating, would have been hard-pressed to find anything. If it had been broad daylight on a clear morning, maybe someone might have spotted something. But not on this dreary shadowed night.
Oscar took them down to three meters above the muddy water and steered upriver, using passive sensors alone. Several of the large Ellezelin forces’ support capsules streaked across the sky above them, on their way to intercept fleeing citizens. Elvin’s Payback remained invisible, though that didn’t stop Oscar from holding his breath and foolishly staring up at the cabin ceiling as the capsules passed overhead. He remembered the war films he used to watch in his first life, already ancient then, that depicted silent running in submarines. The principles here were comparable. He had been tempted to take the starship underwater to make their approach. Tomansio had talked him out of it, pointing out that the noise and displacement they’d make breaking surface probably would give them away.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 70
