Prometheus Unites (The Great Insurrection Book 5)

by David Beers

  Veena was angry at him about this ship, and he’d let her be. He’d spent his time verifying the age of the letter as well as making a digital copy of it. The letter dated to the time of the first Imperial Ascendant, which was exactly what Ares had wanted to hear. He’d left the verification information on Veena’s DataTrack so she’d see it in her own time.

  He also got the box scanned. It wasn’t as old as the letter, so it couldn’t be the original transportation case. The scan also told him the locks he’d burned through with a laser had been meant for personnel keys; the box read a person’s signature and would only open for certain people.

  It was a cheap thing, about a hundred years old. That meant whoever had built it had known about the possibility of the locks being easily foiled but hadn’t cared or hadn’t had the money to fortify it. That didn’t make a lot of sense to Ares, especially not for something this important.

  Veena spent her time searching for another ship while the refueling process continued. She radioed him at one point, letting him know she’d found one, but it was going to pretty much exhaust their finances. It had hoverblades in it, transports kind of like a motorbike, that might come in useful for any land travel they encountered. Even so, it didn’t come to much.

  He said the decision was up to her and went on thinking more about the algorithm.

  They’d rented a single room with two beds in a rundown building, though everything on this refueling station was rundown. He’d tried putting the numbers from the letter into a simulator, but only an error came back. Ares wasn’t advanced enough in spaceflight to know all the different reasons that could be, so he tried other ways of finding out where the number might lead. His efforts came to nothing.

  Finally, a little after standard midnight, Veena came into the room.

  She sat on the foot of her bed and was quiet for a few minutes. “I haven’t decided what to do about the ship yet. If we buy it, we’re pretty much going to have to turn into pirates ourselves or pin all our hopes on this algorithm of yours. Even if we find it, I’m not entirely sure what we’d be able to do with it. That’s a big if because I still don’t think it exists.”

  Ares said nothing. He knew she was thinking aloud.

  “The numbers aren’t going to work unless we put them into a ship-based AI,” she continued. “I checked it with a simulator, and nothing came back. The original programmer was intelligent in a way few space navigators are. The digits were created to bypass simulators so someone can’t sit on a planet and figure out where the algorithm is. The creator made it so we have to go there. I’m fairly certain that even when we put it into an AI, it won’t be able to tell us the final location. It’ll feed us piecemeal information on how to get there.”

  Veena stopped talking for a few seconds and gave a long sigh, then shrugged and chuckled.

  “I don’t know what I thought we’d do when we got out here. I only knew I couldn’t follow the Imperial Ascendant anymore. I know piracy is just about the most dishonorable thing I can think of, so that’s pretty much out for me. I ran some numbers, and if we get the new ship, we can purchase enough supplies to last us a month. After that, we’re dead broke. If we go after this algorithm, we’re going to need a ship that doesn’t have to refuel because we won’t be able to afford it again.” She turned and looked at him. “Do you expect either of us to have a long life?”

  Solemnly, he shook his head.

  “Me either. Most likely, the algorithm doesn’t exist, and if it does, I don’t think it’s just floating around on a dead ship in space. I think we’ll be putting ourselves in a lot more danger going after it.”

  “Agreed.”

  Another large sigh came from Veena’s chest. “Fuck it. Without the Commonwealth’s missions, space is pretty damn boring. I don’t think I want to live a long time out here anyway. Let’s go find this algorithm.”

  Chapter Four

  Alistair lay in his bed, not wanting to get up. The planet’s star, which he always thought of as the sun—hadn’t yet come up over the horizon, and darkness still reigned. His eyes were closed, and he saw Luna in the blackness.

  He hadn’t visited her again with his mind, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He understood how badly he’d scared her, not meaning to.

  Alistair would get up soon; he had to. He wasn’t sure he regretted the decision to come to this world, but it was close. He hadn’t understood the complexities of reversing a hundred years of culture and breeding. He hadn’t understood how hard it would be, though he did now.

  In some ways, it gave him a new respect for the Commonwealth and the Imperial Ascendants. Alistair could hardly fathom what those men had done for the past thousand years, especially now that he’d done it for a few months.

  His time here was coming to a close, though, and he was ready. Whatever ended up happening with this insurrection, he now knew he would never rule. He would reject the mantle regardless of who asked him to do it.

  He allowed himself to smile in the darkness.

  Thinking so far into the future was a fool’s game. He had accomplished more than he ever dreamed of, but they still weren’t anywhere near their end goal. Despite everything he’d done, he most likely would not live to see Earth again.

  Yet, he had to keep waking up and making progress toward his home.

  He sighed and opened his eyes, and Luna’s face disappeared. He swung his legs off the bed, and the lights turned on in the room. He squinted his eyes for a moment but stood and made his way to the bathroom.

  His first meeting was with the AllMother. It wasn’t one he wanted to have because she refused to participate in strategy, yet he had to talk to her.

  He finished getting ready, but the sun still wasn’t up when he left his room. Alistair was gaining more control of his mind, though it still largely remained a mystery to him. He was coming to understand that he only gained more control when he was forced to. When the world put him in positions where he could either die or adapt, he adapted. At the top of the tower, he’d done something that ten minutes before would have been impossible for him, killing the gigante with his Whip while keeping Dax Junior’s trigger finger from moving.

  Over the past three months, Alistair had been practicing, though if he was honest with himself, it frightened him. He didn’t want these powers, and he had no idea how dangerous they might be. However, he knew he needed them if they were going to have the smallest chance.

  So he practiced, just as he did with his body. He was now able to move things with different weights from different ranges. At first, he had only been able to do it with his eyes closed, but now he could keep them open.

  He’d designed a test that he was going to put himself through in the next couple of days since he wanted to see how strong he’d become.

  Or hadn’t, depending on the result of the test.

  Alistair walked to the AllMother’s room. The entire group lived within one compound, the same one much of the previous board had lived in. The planet’s culture was so different from Earth’s that it was hard to believe the people who’d lived here were human. Their lives had been dedicated to the breeding of gigantes and entire families lived in one place. It was more like the pre-Commonwealth cults Alistair had heard about.

  Alistair reached the AllMother’s room and had to smile when he saw her door was open. She’d known he was coming.

  Alistair stepped into the room and found the AllMother lying on a couch on the far side. Her eyes were closed, though she said, “Ave, Prometheus.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve heard you say that before,” Alistair remarked as the door closed behind him.

  “I guess an old drathe can learn new tricks.”

  Alistair was used to her using expressions he didn’t understand. “That something from before my time?”

  The AllMother still didn’t open her eyes. “Well, you replace ‘drathe’ with ‘dog’ and a few more words have to change, but yes.”

  Alistair crossed the room and sat
in a chair next to the AllMother’s feet, then said, “Expecting me? I think your abilities might be a bit stronger than you let on.”

  She gave a small smile. “It doesn’t take a lot of ability to know when my leader wants to speak.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure. You have a tell, Alistair.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  “Obs. He doesn’t eat like normal. You only want to speak when something is bothering you, and Obs can tell that as well as anyone. I’ve had that door open for the past three days at this time, wondering when you were going to show up.”

  The old woman was observant, but Alistair wasn’t buying that was all of what had been in play. He’d seen her kill three Myrmidons without raising a hand. “Do you know what I’m going to ask?”

  Her smirk remained on her face. “Maybe, but I’m going to make you say it.”

  He leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Anyone ever told you that you can be really annoying?”

  “No, child. I can kill people with my mind. That usually helps them remain civil. Now, why did you come so early?”

  Alistair looked at the window. It was still dark, and he liked that. To be up before the world—there was something elitist about it. “I don’t know what to do next, but I know we can’t stay here forever. I’m not going to govern this planet. I’m going to go get my wife back, but I don’t know how. We’re not large enough, not by a long shot. I need advice. I need to know what you think, and I know you’ve resisted any and all entreaties on my part to give me anything.” Staring out the window, he said the only thing that came to him. “I’m lost. I can’t go conquer world after world until I have an army big enough to defeat them.”

  He stopped talking and didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the darkness, knowing what would come next: her saying she didn’t know what to do either.

  “You ever heard of a people called Native Americans?” the AllMother asked. “Or maybe you’ve heard the term ‘Indians?’”

  Alistair turned his attention to her, shaking his head. “No.”

  “They’re gone from the universe now, but they were an ancient people that pre-dated what ended up being America, which pre-dated my father. They grouped themselves by what they called tribes, or that’s the closest translation I know for it. One of the tribes had a saying, and while it’s not completely apt, you may understand its meaning. It was ’Sometimes I go about in pity for myself, and all the while, a great wind carries me across the sky.’ I don’t think you’re feeling pity for yourself, but you still don’t understand your destiny. You can only stay here so long, Alistair, despite what you want. Eventually, the wind is going to pick you up and carry you back to Earth. That wind is so strong that anyone around you will be pulled back too.”

  Alistair thought about what she’d said for a moment. “How does that help me, AllMother? What are you telling me to do? Look up at the sky and wait for it to come?”

  His anger was rising, or perhaps something closer to frustration. Maybe a mixture. He didn’t need old sayings from dead people, he needed something concrete.

  The old woman opened her eyes and slowly stood up from the couch. She faced Alistair. “I think you know by now, Alistair, that everything I do is to prepare you for when the wind drops you back off. Nothing else matters to me. If you consider me a fool, then I chose wrong, but I know that’s not the truth. Should you look up at the sky? That’s exactly what I think you should do.”

  The two stared at each other for a few moments, neither saying anything.

  Finally, Alistair leaned forward, elbows on knees, and nodded. “Okay, then.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Obs was waiting for him at the other end of the hall. When they’d first gotten here, the drathe had woken up at the same time as Alistair and followed him everywhere. As he’d gotten more comfortable, he’d started sleeping in, having no desire to wake up at the ungodsly hour Alistair did.

  “You could have come in,” Alistair said as he reached the animal. “She gave me about as much information as you would if I’d asked you the question.”

  The drathe nipped the air near his hand as he turned the corner.

  There was more to do today. More than Alistair wanted to consider, and what the AllMother had given him was the same as getting nothing. Was he supposed to go outside and look up at the clouds? The old woman had put fire in his blood with her refusal to give advice.

  Alistair knew Thoreaux was up. He was a shockingly good administrator. Alistair thought that if they ever won this thing, Thoreaux would fit in well inside a government. He had the knack for it, unlike Alistair.

  He and Obs walked through the compound until they reached Thoreaux’s room. Alistair gave a knock, and the door opened a moment later. The rooms were like luxury apartments with everything one might need in them. Alistair saw the kitchen light on and headed through the living room toward it.

  Thoreaux was on one side of the table, Faitrin on the other. Both had DataTracks open and were pouring over reports. The two were partners and lovers, and they worked well as a team, which was good because Alistair couldn’t afford quarrels among his council right now.

  Faitrin looked up from the table. “How are things?”

  Obs trotted over to her, and she scratched behind his ears for a few seconds.

  Alistair pulled out the third chair and sat. Obs curled up under the table and closed his eyes, clearly glad to be able to sleep again. “They’ve been better, but I suppose they’ve been worse too. Thoreaux, I need your opinion on the nonsense the AllMother just told me.”

  Thoreaux looked up from the DataTrack and leaned back in the chair with an eyebrow raised. “This should be good. Let’s hear it.”

  Alistair gave them a shortened version of the already-short conversation, ending with her telling him to look up at the sky. “I’ve got to talk to Caesar about his work with the gigantes today because it’s not easy explaining to thousands of them that they don’t have to follow whoever kills the most people. I’ve got to deal with Relm and the issues with trying to start some kind of commerce besides the transfer of species. I’ve got a lot to do, and deciphering what the hell she’s talking about isn’t on the top of that list, though it sort of needs to be.”

  “So,” Thoreaux said, “we’re leaving?”

  Alistair chuckled. “Sure, as soon as this wind picks us up and starts carrying us because right now, I don’t know where to go.” He paused and tilted his head to look at the ceiling. “Still, I know she’s not lying to me. There’s truth in what she’s saying. I just don’t know how to figure it out.”

  Thoreaux’s lips drew into a line and he looked at Faitrin. “You got any idea what it means?”

  “Ha.” Faitrin shook her head and smiled. “I’ve known the woman for less than a year. You’ve known her your whole life. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  Thoreaux shook his head, glancing away. “I mean, I don’t know. She’s not telling you to literally go look at the sky, but…” He looked up with a light in his eyes. “It sounds like something is going on above us.”

  “What does that mean?” Alistair’s frustration was returning. “There’s a lot of universe out there, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to scan the whole thing.”

  Thoreaux shrugged. “You’re the leader, Pro, and like she said, you’re the one training to be dropped off by the giant wind. As for me, I’ve got to figure out how to get more engineers to this planet.”

  Alistair sighed, then stood up. “You two have been a tremendous amount of help. I’m forever in your debt,” he deadpanned. “I’ll talk to ya later.”

  He and Obs left the apartment.

  He wouldn’t be able to think about her comment until the end of the day.

  Later, when everything was finished and so many were dead, he’d wonder if the AllMother hadn’t blundered. Was what he’d learned worth the destruction?

  The AllMother went back to her bedroom after Alistair left.


  She’d told him what she knew without her usual demeanor of taking nothing seriously, but she understood how grave the situation was quickly becoming. She was older than anyone to ever live—except her brother, obviously—so she rarely questioned her decisions.

  She knew the end goal, and she mostly knew how to get there.

  She also knew what she had to do: prepare him.

  The AllMother went back to bed. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, but she figured she might as well try. Old people knew getting old was awful. The AllMother knew that times a thousand years. Not being able to sleep much was only one of the many discomforts her age brought.

  I can’t lay it down yet, though. Not until this is finished.

  The AllMother’s abilities weren’t what they had once been, but it hadn’t taken much of a gift to feel the massive armies that were coming for them. That much energy, that much bloodlust all directed at the man she’d waited her whole life to find? Her mind couldn’t help but see them.

  Only she knew she couldn’t tell Alistair. The AllMother could die tomorrow, and what then? The man had to have confidence in his abilities. He had to know that he and he alone could finish this thing. He could not rely on anyone else to lead for him.

  She hadn’t even liked telling him what she had, to look at the sky. It was too damn obvious, but the gathering forces frightened her—so many, and not far away. The AllMother couldn’t see them, but she felt them, and they gave off evil.

  The AllMother understood that many people in this universe were killers. Alistair was a killer, as was she. There was a difference between the two of them and those traveling their way. The AllMother couldn’t see those people clearly enough to know what they did, but she recognized sociopathy when she felt it.