“But wrong. Please scan near-Sol space.”
Look behind you. The oldest ploy in the book, but nearly always spoken from a position of superiority. Kazimir kept his energy signature where it was but manifested several long-range sensor functions. He searched for signs of stealthed hyperdrives. Eight thousand and one were holding steady in transdimensional suspension, englobing the Sol system at forty AUs (astronomical units) out.
“What are they?” he asked.
“We call them the Swarm,” Ilanthe said. “They are here to put an end to ANA’s interference.”
“I have to access them,” Kazimir told ANA. “I really don’t like that formation.” His sensor functions observed one of the hyperdrives arrowing in toward the inversion core at very high speed even for an ultradrive. The other eight thousand dropped out of hyperspace where they were, materializing into spacetime as large spherical force fields, their orbits neatly surrounding the Sol system.
Every navy warship assigned to the Sol protection fleet flashed in toward Earth, knitting together in a defensive formation that extended out beyond lunar orbit. Weapons platforms that had spent decades stealthed in high orbit emerged to join the incredible array of firepower lining up on the Swarm. All over the planet, force fields powered up, shielding the remaining cities. Anyone outside an urban area was immediately teleported in to safety. The T-sphere itself was integrated into the defense organization, ready to ward off energy assaults against the planet by rearranging spacetime in a sharp curve.
Lizzie was in the kitchen when the alert came through. Unfamiliar icons popped up in her exovision as she was taking a big pan of boiling chicken stock off the grand iron range. Secondary routines identified them, pushing their meanings into her consciousness. She was suddenly all too aware of what was happening out on the fringes of the Sol system. “Ozzie, crappit,” she grunted as she put the hot pan back down on the range. The whole event was so extraordinary, she had no idea how to react, and then her basic parental instincts took over.
Little Rosa was chortling away happily to herself in the family room, where she was playing with some reactive spheres, clashing them against each other in a burst of music, then clapping as they rolled away across the antique rug. She grinned delightedly as her mother rushed in.
The pediatric housebot floating to one side of the toddler glided smoothly to one side as Lizzie scooped her up. “Come on,” she said, and started to designate her coordinate within the T-sphere. That was when the defense agency announced the T-sphere would be unavailable for civilian use in one minute’s time.
Lizzie teleported into the school. Rosa whooped with delight at the abrupt jump. “Good, good,” she enthused.
The classroom she’d emerged into was a broad circle with a shallow dome roof and long overhang windows looking across the green playing fields of Dulwich Park. It was raining outside. Twenty children were inside, split into three groups. Their teachers were already looking startled. Lizzie looked around as a timer started to count away her minute. Elsie was part of a reading group. She glanced up and smiled at her mother.
Two more parents jumped into the classroom, both looking as perturbed as Lizzie imagined she was. She beckoned frantically to Elsie, who started over. By now another five parents had arrived. The large classroom was starting to feel crowded.
Tilly was in the music group, her violin resting comfortably under her chin as the children practiced a cheerful-sounding song for the school’s Christmas Nativity play. “Come here,” Lizzie called as Elsie reached her side. There were twenty seconds left. Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw a mother jump away as she clutched her son.
“What’s happening?” Tilly asked.
“Here!” Lizzie implored. Another two adults materialized in front of her and started to hunt desperately for their children. The youngsters were starting to get upset as more and more parents with worried faces appeared.
Tilly scampered over, still hanging on to her violin. Lizzie’s u-shadow registered a call from her husband. “Not now,” she grunted, and designated the house as their teleport coordinate. Tilly ran into her, and there were nine seconds left. Just for an instant, the emptiness of the translation continuum flashed around them as Lizzie and the kids jumped out.
She let out a little shocked sob as they all materialized in the familiar hallway.
“What is it?” a subdued Elsie demanded. “What’s happening?”
“Mummy?” Tilly appealed, tugging at Lizzie’s skirt.
“I’m not sure,” Lizzie said even as she was trying to make sense of the defense agency displays. The defense agency didn’t have any details on the devices that had surrounded the solar system. Then the T-sphere was diverted from standard use, stranding everyone on the planet in his or her immediate location. She told her u-shadow to accept her husband’s call.
“Thank Ozzie,” he exclaimed. “Where are the girls?”
“Got them,” she promised, feeling slightly superior because she’d reacted so swiftly and correctly. “Where are you?”
“On a starship. Eight minutes out from Gralmond spaceport.”
“Do you understand what’s happening?”
“Not really. It’s the ANA factions; their fights have turned physical.”
“They can’t hurt Earth? Can they?” She didn’t want to let go of the children. Outside, the rain had drained out of the gray London sky as the force field dome covered the city.
“That’s not what it’s about. Look I’ll be with you as soon—”
The connection ended. Strange symbols flipped up into her exovision, showing routing problems with his link.
In the unisphere? That’s not possible!
“—after I’ve landed. Then I’ll—”
“Something’s wrong,” she gasped.
“—hang on! I will be there, I prom—”
“The link has failed,” her u-shadow reported.
“How can it fail?” she cried.
“The wormhole connections with the Commonwealth worlds are collapsing,” her u-shadow said.
“Oh, great Ozzie!” Lizzie hurried into the conservatory, pulling the girls with her. She tried to make sense of the emergency icons invading her exovision as she looked up into the dour sky, hunting for signs of the world coming to an end.
———
Kazimir’s energy signature halted ten kilometers from one of the Swarm components. He manifested a vast array of sensor functions, yet not one of them was able to penetrate the five-hundred-meter-diameter force field floating serenely in space. “Damnit, they’ve acquired Dark Fortress technology,” he told ANA. Far behind him, the Accelerator ship dropped out of hyperdrive next to the inversion core. It was large for an ultradrive; long-range scans revealed a multitude of weapons on board. A hold door opened in the rear section, and the inversion core slipped gracefully inside. Then a force field came on around it, every bit as impervious as the one he was confronting.
Kazimir was desperate to intercept the Accelerator Faction starship, but with Earth and ANA facing an unknown threat, his duty was clear. He manifested several high-level weapon functions and fired at the force field directly ahead of him. Everything he used was simply deflected away. The force field was completely impermeable to any assault he could bring in spacetime and hyperspace.
“The wormholes to the Big15 worlds are collapsing,” ANA reported. “Something is cutting them off.”
Kazimir examined the exotic matter intrusions stretching out from Earth away to the stars, seeing them subjected to enormous interference that was causing them to constrict. Even though he knew the incursion must originate within the Swarm, his manifested sensor functions couldn’t track down its nature.
The Accelerator Faction ship carrying the inversion core went FTL, streaking across the solar system directly away from Kazimir at seventy-eight light-years an hour. His energy signature flashed after it. Enormously powerful exotic energy manipulation functions manifested, but he still couldn’t re
ach through its force field to disable the drive. He began to manifest some functions that would disrupt the quantum fields around the ship, which would force it out of hyperspace. The ship passed through the Swarm’s orbit. Kazimir was less than two seconds behind. It was too late. The force fields surrounding the Swarm components expanded at hyperluminal speed.
Kazimir’s energy signature struck an impermeable barrier that cut clean across spacetime and hyperspace. He couldn’t get through.
———
The ship dropped out of hyperspace a light-minute beyond the force field. To the hyperspace sensors, a vast blank shield had sprung up behind them. Its curvature revealed a radius of forty AUs. There was no hint of stress or distortion anywhere on its surface. Whatever Kazimir was armed with was unable to cut through. Neskia brought the ship’s visual sensor data into her exovision, watching the image keenly as a timer counted down. After one minute, the high-magnitude star that was the Sun vanished, along with the stars across that half of space.
“No sign of it breaking through,” Neskia said. “I think we’re safe.”
“Very clever, that deterrence fleet,” Ilanthe said. “An interstitial energy signature that can extrude into spacetime. The ship wouldn’t have stood a chance in a straight firefight. ANA was more advanced than we’d realized.”
“Even more reason for us to leave it behind,” Neskia said dismissively. “It had so much potential and wasted it.”
“Quite.”
“Where are we going?”
“Ellezelin. I trust our agents are close to recovering Araminta.”
“They are.”
The ship slipped back into hyperspace, heading away at a modest fifty-five light-years an hour. Behind it, the somber sphere imprisoning the Sol system refracted the gentle starlight impinging on its boundary with a cold shimmer reminiscent of a deep forest lake, guarding its contents in perfect isolated darkness.
Inigo’s Sixteenth Dream
It was the fifth time Edeard had watched the militia forces close in on the hidden valley. There had been a lot of mistakes previously; ge-eagles had been spotted, fastfoxes mauled the first militiamen over the lip, the bandit forces had fought back with a secret cache of weapons, hothead officers didn’t quite follow orders, allowing the Gilmorn to rally his people. Each time there had been too many deaths. Each time Edeard reset the universe to the night before and attempted to mitigate the problem.
Last time he was sure he’d gotten it right, and then the bandit gang had produced rapid-fire guns from a cache that he hadn’t found the first three times. Even with third hands joined together to add extra strength to their shielding, the troopers had been cut to shreds before Edeard himself could reach them. So …
This time he had slipped unseen and unsensed through the valley for two hours just after midnight. He’d destroyed the second lot of rapid-fire guns the bandits had hidden and snatched away the ones belonging to guards after rendering them unconscious. It was politically important that the militias thought they alone had overcome the bandits; Edeard and Finitan wanted the rapid-fire guns to vanish into legend. Now he stood on a small rise half a mile from the valley as the predawn light slowly overwhelmed the nebulae. Buluku was the first to vanish, its undulating stream of pale indigo fading away just above the eastern horizon, as if the land had somehow opened to swallow it. Edeard could well believe that. The valley that the bandits had chosen as their last redoubt was a narrow crack in the undulating grasslands that made up the southernmost part of Rulan province, lapping against the low mountains of Gratham province, which rose in the distance. Not hard to imagine it as a fissure slicing through the whole world.
As the scarlet-spiked glory of Odin’s Sea began to diminish far above, he farsighted the troopers of the Pholas and Zelda regiment breaking cover from the spinneys beyond the valley where they’d gathered during the night. They were supported by provincial militiamen from Plax and Tives. The men moved silently, like a black stream winding around the soft knolls and hummocks of the grasslands, out of farsight from the sentries within the valley. Edeard concentrated on subverting the ge-eagles gliding high above, insinuating his own orders into their sharp, suspicious little minds. That left just the fastfoxes. He was too far away to help with them. Brawny ge-wolves and fast ge-hounds slunk forward, accompanying the marauder groups of sheriffs and Wellsop rangers whose control over their genistars was second to none.
“Go,” Edeard’s directed longtalk urged Dinlay.
The Lillylight and Cobara regiment, along with militias from Fandine, Nargol, and Obershire, emerged from their forward positions to the west of the valley. It was the Nargol troopers and their unfettered eagerness who had been the problem the second time around; since then Edeard had emphasized how important it was to keep them moving along the planned route. Colonel Larose had done a good job keeping the provincials in line ever since; ignoring their muttered resentment about city folk lording it over the countryside.
With the assault under way, Edeard mounted a ge-horse that the Eggshaper Guild had sculpted purely for speed. His ebony cloak swirled around him, flowing across the saddle before rippling above the beast’s hide. Felax and Marcol scrambled onto similar mounts on either side of him. He didn’t have to say anything to them; his mind urged the ge-horse forward at a gallop, and the young constables followed.
The three beasts thundering over the grassland in the cold silence of the ebbing night sounded incredibly loud to Edeard, yet he knew they were too far from the valley to be heard. Up in front of him the troopers were an unstoppable Swarm as they converged on the valley.
Finally, the alarm was raised by the bandits. Those sentries still awake shouted to their armed comrades for help, only to find them lying in a deep unnatural slumber, their weapons gone. More shouts and frantic longtalk roused the rest of the sleeping group.
So far, so exactly as before, and this time going according to plan.
Fastfoxes flittered silently along the valley with the speed of hurricane clouds. The invading militias urged their ge-wolves on ahead. Along the top of the valley, troopers fell to the ground, their pistols held over the edge. Shots were fired. Ge-wolves and fastfoxes clashed head on, powerful animal screams reverberating across the grasslands as gray light crept over the dew-soaked ground.
The Pholas and Zelda regiment reached the far end of the valley and began to follow their ge-wolves down into the deep narrow cleft. Dinlay and Argian were close to the front, using their farsight to expose anyone with the concealment ability. Most of the bandits could perform the trick. Edeard held his breath, the memory of another deep gully on another night stirring in his mind. This time would be different, he promised himself; this time he could guarantee there would be no surprises.
Troopers along the top of the valley provided a thick covering fire for their comrades sweeping forward below. As always, the Gilmorn gathered his stalwarts together in a tall fortresslike outcrop of rock. They still had their ordinary pistols and fired ruthlessly at the advancing troopers. Concealment made it hard for anyone to return fire with any accuracy. Argian hurried forward to assist the troopers closing in on the outcrop.
Edeard arrived at the head of the valley and dismounted. He refused to rush forward even though it was what everyone was expecting. His farsight observed troopers rounding up the bandits who had surrendered and isolating the few who still resisted. Then it was just the Gilmorn and his cadre left offering resistance. Dinlay and Larose moved the militiamen forward cautiously; men wriggled on their bellies along small clefts in the land and dashed between convenient boulders. Within ten minutes, the Gilmorn was completely surrounded.
As Edeard made his way along the stony floor of the valley, he passed groups of smiling troopers hauling their captives along. Several were men from the tribes that lived in the wildlands: beyond Rulan’s boundaries. They were just as he’d encountered them all those years ago on the caravan back from Witham: ringlet hair and bare chests caked in dark mud that was fl
aking off. They glanced at the Waterwalker with sullen expressions, their minds tightly shielded. In all the clashes over the last few years, Edeard had never seen one of them wielding a rapid-fire gun; those weapons were possessed by the Gilmorn’s people alone. He halted one of the tribesmen escorted by five wary troopers, a man he guessed to be in his late fifties though with none of a city dweller’s laxness about him; he had pale gray eyes that glared out of a face that displayed all the anger and defiance his mind refused to show.
“Why?” Edeard asked simply. “Why did you join them?”
“They are strong. We benefit.”
“How? How do you benefit?”
The older tribesman gave Edeard a superior snort. He gestured around the grasslands. “You are gone. Even now you will never return. This land will be ours.”
“All right, I can see that. I can even understand how the killing and destruction becomes a perverted addiction for some of you. But why these lands? There are lands unclaimed to the west. Land with forests and herds to hunt. No one even knows how much land. Why ours? You don’t farm. You don’t live in stone houses.”
“Because you have it,” the tribesman said simply.
Edeard stared at him, knowing he’d never get a better answer. Nor a more honest one, he thought. He was looking for complexity and purpose where there was none. It was the Gilmorn and his kind, the remnants of Owain’s ruthless One Nation followers, who had intent. The tribesmen were simply useful innocents who’d been duped into an allegiance they had never fully comprehended.
He dismissed the escort with a curt wave of his hand, and the tribesman was dragged off to the jail pens that were being established up on the grasslands.
“We should get down there,” Marcol said eagerly. The young man’s farsight was sweeping over the fortress outcrop, exposing the concealed bandits with ease.
Edeard did his best not to grin. Marcol’s psychic abilities had developed considerably since the day of banishment, almost as much as his sense of duty. He was a devoted constable and utterly loyal to the Grand Council, yet there was still some of the old Sampalok street boy in there. He was spoiling to join the fight.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 155
