TIR ANDOL’S
ASHES
__________
Preqel to the Phalanx Offensive Series
Stephanie E. Kusiak
ALSO BY THE SAME AUTHOR
FROM DARK HORSE PUBLISHING
Loved and Lost
The House at the End of the Street
Tir Andol’s Ashes
© 2018 Dark Horse Publishing. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-950136-00-1
This Electronic Book is published by:
Dark Horse Publishing
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Foothill Ranch, CA 92610-2853
First Edition: December 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and circumstances are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locations, or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including download, printing, recording, information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Dark Horse Publishing [email protected]
Edited by Heather Flournoy
Cover Design by DHP Creative
Prologue
I’m an orphan of a war that began in 1974.
Humanity didn’t know it was at war then, but the war had begun nonetheless. It was in that year that humankind fired radio waves into space. To the casual observer, it was a benign action, meant to mark the refurbishing of the Arecibo Radio Telescope in Puerto Rico. The message, a short three-minute burst, a simple communication of open-handed naivety.
It was pointed at the M13 globular cluster, some twenty-five thousand light years away.
Had the message hit the intended target, nothing that has come to pass would have occurred. As a matter of fact, it would still be traveling now—a message of critical importance—lost among the stars. We now know that M13 has no life. It is a graveyard to civilizations that came and went long before we ever existed. So after twenty-five thousand years, humanity’s location and deepest secrets would have vanished without a trace.
However, that was not to be.
To our knowledge and best guesstimates, the message was intercepted by an alien species we now call The Phalanx. We believe this occurred approximately two hundred years after the message was sent, give or take a decade or so. It was most likely a passing frigate that first received the radio burst from Earth.
I often wonder what that must have been like, hearing the rhythmic pulse of static and knowing unmistakably that it wasn’t echoes from a solar flare, but a message from the depths of space. I also think about how it could have been anyone else—anything else—and life on Earth would have continued. I’ve met countless alien species. They’ve visited our planet and homes. It is beyond my fathoming how the species that received humanity’s message was the only one that was dangerous to us.
That out of all the cosmos, all the dead air and stardust, it was The Phalanx whose ears were turned to the exact place that would ruin us.
You see, The Phalanx is a plague, well known throughout the universe, though at the time they were strangers to humankind. They had a long history of jumping from one solar system to another and culling it to even greater extremes than humanity could have imagined. So, when The Phalanx came to the Milky Way, what they brought was beyond comprehension, beyond understanding.
Religious and scientific leaders no longer debated the truth of tattered tomes of text.
The Phalanx was every bit a locust of destruction and a rain of fire from a midnight sky.
It would have been one thing if they had come to kill our planet. Humanity had been prepared for that since it had found life among the stars. There’s nothing more instinctive than the will to survive. We rallied defenses behind the backs of the aliens we smiled and shared culture with and as a finally united world, we used their technologies to create weapons on scales that redefined the very laws of nature themselves.
In the end, Earth was ready for an onslaught, and might have prevailed had The Phalanx done what we’d expected.
We’d expected them to want us. In our hubris, we thought of nothing more appealing than ourselves.
What The Phalanx wanted though, was something else entirely.
It was our Sun.
They needed the energy to power their worlds and that message from 1974 told them just as much about us as it did about our Sun. It told them it was the right size, temperature, and density to be the battery they needed.
So, they took it.
They wrapped it in technology we hadn’t dreamed of, and very much like a battery, drained it dry. Day by day, moment by moment, they bled it until the light faded completely, and our Sun was nothing but a white dwarf of ghostly pale light.
Then, The Phalanx came. And with nothing left to fight for, a beautiful planet dying all around us, humanity was easy to lay waste to. A little less than half Earth’s population made it off the planet before she died.
Those who could escaped to Tir Andol, another planet circling another Sun-like star, a barren outpost that became a new Homeworld under the hands of terraformers. And to this day we’ve done everything we can to prevent The Phalanx from finding us again, and everything we can to ensure if they ever did, we’d be ready.
However, we are not yet ready—and time has run short for us.
Chapter 1
The grass crunches under my shoes, squeaks from the dampness of rain. It’s finally let up long enough for us to begin our hike through one of the barren zones of wildland on this side of Tir Andol. Marianna is ahead of me, her Academy uniform tunic and pants seemingly far too light to walk through the rain in, and certainly far too thin for the chill in the air.
“You sure you’re not cold?”
She glances back at me with a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep asking. I’m okay.”
Her hands drag through the brush beside us, both pulling the reeds apart and grabbing them in her passing. I’ve known Marianna for a long time. She’s been my classmate, my friend, a neighbor who lives in the same block of buildings as me. In the beginning at the Academy, we’d been competitors because her academic talent was nothing short of outstanding. In a world where only the top percent got to move on, she and I set bars the other pursued in turn.
However, as time passed we built many more memories beyond the walls of our classes, memories like today and this hike through the wild world I’ve only ever stared at from my window.
When Marianna stops short and tilts her head to listen, it puts the hairs up on the back of my neck. “Did you hear something?” I strain into the silence until all I hear is the patter of rain and the crackle of the Zone Line.
“I don’t know.”
“We should get away from the street just in case.”
“Yeah.”
Marianna takes off, moving swiftly ahead of me and I follow after her. I reason that if we were caught trespassing here, my parents would save us from any type of serious punishment. However, regardless of rationale I feel the threat of danger nip at my heels, forcing me faster until I’m neck and neck with Marianna in her race to get deeper into the brush.
Once we stop, breathless and sputtering, Marianna stares up at the city punctuating the sky beside us. I shift my gaze from the flushed curve of her cheek to the rise of silver and glass. Contained in its zone square, the monoliths of the city towers look held at bay, unable to encroach on us like they always do. “I like it here.” She whispers it, her attention moving from the buildings to the organic swirl of nature. Though not surprising to me, that statement is seemingly a
direct contrast to Marianna’s outward projection. Her streamlined perfection seems to be much better suited for the gilded shine of city life than punctuated against a wash of green land and gray sky.
“I like it here, too.”
Marianna tips me a smile before she starts walking again.
Before us, the dewy greens and yellows give way to a stand of weeping willow trees, and farther back more high-edged foliage flanks the end of the quadrant and the Zone Line beyond. It hums and crackles, a barely visible magnetic field of containment.
Tir Andol was built in patchworks of nature and city, powered in zones to care and sustain its inhabitants. It defies my imagination to look at this wild grassland and know that a hundred years ago the entire planet of Tir Andol was a cold rock drifting in space. Even after suffering through the basics of geoengineering, I can’t even fathom how it could be possible to transform the face of a planet. Terraforming isn’t my strong suit; it’s Marianna’s. I remind myself to ask her about it in depth sometime.
I look up, tasting rain on my lips as I stare into the gray sky. The clouds move, and for the briefest of moments I can see the hull of the Coalition ship, Anima. It’s where my parents spend their days working alongside other commanding officers.
At one point in my life, that was where I wanted to be. Up there, doing things, making a difference. My mother has said many times, “Be the difference you want to see in the universe.” It’s an old Earth saying, something my family has held onto from people long gone. I’ve always taken it to heart, pushed myself at the Academy and in my studies. All of my gusto and work, pointed in the direction of space.
But now, here…
I stare at Marianna again, and the slow measured steps she takes. Despite my previous descriptions, Marianna is more than just a friend to me. She’s the reason why everything in my life has changed. She’s made this planet the only place in the universe I’d ever want to be.
She gives me a look, and her words break the mosaic between us. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to come out here.”
“Yeah, a little.”
“I have something I need to tell you.”
Despite myself, her words make my heart pick up. “Yeah?”
“I’ll be leaving Tir Andol in a week on a two-year scientific mission.” She looks over at me with a pained expression. “The Academy didn’t tell me until last night. It’s because of my scores.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say when her words and my thoughts strike such a sharp contrast to one another. I try to minimize it for her benefit, forcing a smile to my lips to hide how hard my stomach twists at the thought. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see. Don’t be sad about it.”
Marianna starts walking, leaving me to stare after her. I follow her, and after a moment she turns to walk backward. Her anger hits the blue in her eyes, and I worry I said the wrong thing. “I’m so angry. I can’t believe they didn’t tell me until now. They gave me a week.” Softer, she continues, “It feels like they’re stealing my life away.”
Her words are surprisingly dramatic in comparison to her usual even-keel logic. “Yeah, that’s…not a lot of time.” I struggle to find the words I want to say as silence falls over me.
“All I want is to stay here.” She points at the ground. “I want to finish my classes, I’m so close to finishing this year’s curriculum.”
Two years is a long time, long enough to change the foundations of relationships, of friendships. I reach for the flimsy bits of her words that register through the shock. “You’ll get credits for the mission. When you come back, I’m sure you’ll be on the same track as all of us and ready to nearly graduate.”
“But that doesn’t matter, because I’ll be so far away.” She stops as I move in beside her. “What if I don’t come back?”
“You’ll come back.” I force a smile until one moment more and the lies in my heart will shatter the mask on my face. “You’ll have a great time, and come back, and be bored with this place.”
I stare at her as the rain comes down a little heavier, dragging droplets down the plane of her cheeks and darkening the blond strands in her hair. She doesn’t look at me as her jaw tightens and works through words she can’t seem to say. My gaze drifts down her neck to where the rain has marked her tunic, soaking it through at the shoulders until I can see skin beneath the fabric.
Here in this moment she is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Following that realization with the thought of her leaving, I feel like I’ve swallowed glass as my emotions prickle my throat closed.
When Marianna’s chest rises with a deep breath, I brace for her words.
“I’ll miss you.”
That’s all she says as she moves away without looking at me.
I don’t follow. I let her go, watching the slow movements of her body until Marianna ducks under the encircling branches of the willow trees and disappears into the shadows. When I enter the tiny enclosure, I find her sitting on a small log, her long legs at odd angles. She has her head in her hands, and I don’t have the heart to say anything more because I feel like I’m just making it worse. I can’t seem to find the reassurances I want to give myself, let alone her.
I take up a spot near her alongside what appears to be a small campfire ring. The longer I sit and listen to the patter of rain the more I think about that skin I saw beneath her tunic. Oddly, it reminds me of her humanity, of how easy it can be to forget it’s there. Especially now, with how raw and fractured she seems. I’ve never seen this Marianna before, vulnerable and sad. It’s the first time it’s ever felt she’s truly fragile. I’ve spent a long time admiring her strength and confidence, long enough it seems that I can easily forget that beneath her high achieving façade there is a person who needs comfort and support.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
Marianna takes a deep breath, seeming to draw strength from it until she can clear her throat and look at me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“If I tell you a secret, can you keep it?”
“Yeah.”
“You swear it?”
“Yes.”
“I just need someone to know the truth.” Her eyes are so intense, so serious, that I’m afraid to move and risk her not continuing. She keeps me baited for a moment before continuing. “I can’t go into space because I don’t deserve it. I’ve cheated on all my exams at the Academy.”
“Wait, what?” The words come before I can stop them.
“I’m sorry, I know.” Marianna hushes, holding her hands out a little in surrender. “It just happened and now it’s beyond my ability to stop it.”
“Cheat, how?”
“I get the answers.”
“How, Mari?” I force, feeling the first roll of anger wash over me. I never could have imagined she could do such a thing. As I stare at her, into the depth of honor and kindness in her eyes, I refuse to believe it. “Tell me it’s an accident.” I demand.
“At first, yes. Now, no.” She goes still for a moment, her eyes seemingly frozen on mine, the color as intense as the bluest of Tir Andol’s skies.
I get them like this.
I open my mouth to point out her lack of an answer, until I realize she hasn’t parted her lips to speak. She’s still staring at me with that penetrating gaze. But it’s unmistakable—I heard her speak. My throat freezes shut, making my next breath come out in a wheeze.
I don’t know how long I stare at her, and she at me, but it’s enough for my anger to drain away and be replaced with giddy disbelief.
I laugh nervously, leaning forward. “Do it again.”
Like this.
Can you hear me right now?
Yes.
Can you read my mind?
I’m not, but I can. I’m just hearing your words.
“How is it different?” I can hear the nervousness in my voice, and I swallow it.
Marianna edges a tenuous smile. “It’s differe
nt. I won’t read your mind, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You sure?” I know the more I press, the more incriminating my concern seems.
“Yes, never you.” Her gaze falls with shame.
“Okay, Mari, I trust you. So, tell me how it’s different?” She looks back up at me with a relieved smile.
“It feels like walking through doorways, or opening doors in my mind. I can walk through them, in my head. The first is hearing words that people are saying, their inner monologue I suppose. The second is reading someone’s mind, hearing their thoughts and seeing their memories. The third is something deeper, a shared experience, I think.”
“You think?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve only tried it once and never with another person.”
I want to ask about detail on that, but I’m so amazed I keep barreling right ahead. “Show me.”
“Um…” She swallows apprehensively. “I don’t know.”
“Well, try reading my mind then.”
“But, you just made me promise.”
“Just right now, with my permission.” I sit up straighter, tucking my legs in a crisscross and rolling my shoulders. “Do the first door thing.”
This first door thing?
Yeah. Now read my mind. I’m going to remember something from class today.
Okay. Doing that second door thing now.
When she says it, her lips curve in a smirk. It’s so charming, so appealing. I direct my thoughts away from the rush of warmth her smile gives me and though I planned on thinking about classes from earlier, the image that pops in my mind is miles from a lecture on propulsion. What I remember instead was our walk here and the moment when she stopped to say she’d miss me. With chagrining clarity, every memorized drop of water on her face is pictured in my mind, and the near sensual drag of my gaze down her throat follows. I can hear my words in my head, ringing in my own voice about how beautiful she is. How much I’ll miss her.
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