by Bob Mayer
Cetic stood up, signaling for his army to rise. Thousands followed his lead. He marched steadily forward, sword in hand, toward Seventh Wall, his Alliance with him on either side and behind. He couldn’t see any troops manning the top of the wall, but suspected they were there, waiting.
He was on a narrow road leading toward a gate. Directly behind him was a battering ram that had been hurriedly put together and carried by forty men, but he had his doubts whether it would breach the gate. Others carried grappling hooks attached to ropes.
The storm finally broke open, sending sheets of warm rain down.
Cetic lifted his sword. “There will be blood on my blade!”
*****
Inside the Citadel-Tower, Amun watched the Great Alliance approaching. He’d pulled the wargs back to Second Wall since he didn’t have sufficient numbers to hold Seventh. He could afford to lose the city up to that point, but his plan was to destroy the humans before they reached Seventh.
The weapons system on the talon was active and Amun aimed at the center of the approaching army. He paused as movement inside Seventh Wall caught his eye. Hundreds of humans, Atlanteans, were gathering. Would they help defend out of homage or fear?
Amun’s assumption proved faulty at the Atlanteans threw open the gate, welcoming the approaching army. He checked and throughout the city, down to Third Wall, the people were opening the gates.
Amun adjusted the aim.
*****
Cetic suspected a trap as the gate opened, but the humans who lined the top of the wall and poured out were unarmed and cheering his army. He broke in a run.
“Come!” he yelled, signaling for his warriors to head for the gate.
At that moment a talon bolt hit the wall above the gate, obliterating the people and a large chunk of the wall. Blasted rock and humanity joined the storm’s downpour.
Cetic ignored both and continued his charge for the opening.
Another blast struck behind him, killing dozens of his followers.
*****
Amun adjusted aim, locking on the large man in the lead. As he was about to fire the door to the sphere irised open.
Amun shifted his attention from the curved display to look behind him. “I gave orders not to be—”
His words and breath were cut off as a pulse from a power spear drilled a perfect round hole through his chest. He blinked in shock as Moroi led a half-dozen Nagil inside. He tried to speak but a second pulse hit the center of his forehead, burning a clean quarter-inch wide hole through his head.
His fingers let go of Excalibur, the sword clattering to floor. He slowly fell over dead, but not dead.
The nanites were already at work repairing both wounds.
That was negated when Moroi picked up Excalibur and swung it, severing Amun’s head. She kicked it out of the way, then looked at the displays. The Great Alliance, Cetic in the lead, was pouring through the gate in Seventh Wall, the citizens of Atlantis joining them.
“Wake the sleeping Airlia,” she ordered one of the Elders, “and take them into custody.” She could feel the connection with the guardian computer via the sword in her hand.
Moroi shut down the shield wall.
WORMEHILL/NORTH WALL
Arcturus raised the Tesla coil up the pole to the very top, powering it. Isengrim sat close by, waiting and watching.
*****
A red light flashed on the console, interrupting Anubis just before she fired for the first time. The shield wall was down! She hit transmit.
“Amun? Amun! Why is the shield off? Amun!”
Horus cut in. “What is going on?”
“The shield is down,” Anubis said. “Something is wrong.”
“Get back—” There was shouting in the background of Horus’s transmission. “Something is happening at Wormehill.”
Anubis looked at her screens and directed one toward the old tower. Lightning was crackling and flashing all around the tower. For a moment she thought it was part of the storm, but then realized it was separate, a different kind of power, centered around something extending up from Wormehill.
A bright flash and a wide bolt of pure white energy struck the Toll Tower.
“Horus!” she screamed.
There was nothing left of the Tower or the North Wall for fifty meters in either direction. Anubis turned the talon toward Wormehill. She began to retarget the weapons system, hands shaking.
*****
Arcturus saw the talon shift toward his position. He sent a command through his computer, via the master guardian, into the talon. It powered down and dropped out of the sky.
SWARM BATTLE CORE, SWARM ASSEMBLY POINT
The Battle Core holding Kray came out of FTLT in a remote part of the galaxy, between the two outermost arms, Cygnus and Perseus. There was no star system close, just the blankness of interstellar space.
However, there were objects. Forty-six full-sized, mature Battle Cores in varying stages of repair or disassembly. The Cores had been damaged either in battle and/or by the travails of time and distance. Each Core had been evaluated when it arrived. If regeneration could fix the damage, the Core was positioned in one area.
If the Core was considered unredeemable, it became part of those raw materials, placed in another area. These were being broken apart by smaller warships and mining craft, the usable living, red material shifted to those being repaired. There were seven of those, their orbs missing large pieces, as they were scavenged.
There were also fourteen ‘immature’ red Cores clustered in another quadrant. These were of varying sizes, from the oldest, nearing operational Battle Core size, to the most recent, barely fifty miles in diameter. These were also being supplied with raw materials by incoming Cores and those being deconstructed. The hulls were expanding organically, while the interior was being developed according to the master code a Core was programmed with.
The Core that Kray and the other un-reaped humans were aboard had been evaluated while in route to this assembly point. It had sustained over two hundred interior nuclear detonations from the Airlia Teardrop attack. There was also extensive surface damage accrued during the assault from motherships and talons. The decision wasn’t difficult. The Core was past the point of effectively regenerating and would be positioned with the others being torn down. The Swarm on board would fly all the scout and warships to the mature Cores that were being readied to venture back into interstellar space on their primary directive.
The Scale life on board, of which the humans in their one cargo bay were only a portion, was to be moved on. There were holds full of the selected from the humans, Airlia, Mercene and other Scale this Core had reaped over its millennia long journey through the stars. They were only a small percentage of those encountered, all sharing the same trait which Pitr had determined: they had not fought.
Moved on did not mean transfer to another Battle Core.
It meant something rather different, because there was another type of Core in this assembly point.
*****
A Swarm warship, two miles in diameter, with eight quarter mile long weapons arms, floated into the bay, above the heads of the gathered humans.
Lina grasped Kray’s hand tightly. “What now?” she whispered, as if afraid of being overheard by the massive craft.
Kray watched it without fear. “It makes no sense that the Swarm will hurt us now after it has gone to so much trouble to assemble all here. Why would they clothe us?”
“I believe you are right,” Pitr agreed.
“Then what do they want?” Lina asked.
“We will find out,” Kray said. “Do not be afraid.”
The warship rotated one of the weapons arms toward the floor and gently descended until the tip of the arm touched. The large bay door on the end of the arm, just like that through which most of the people had been brought aboard, under the thrall of a Swarm parasite from the surface of their reaped planet, slid open.
Now the humans had a choice of their
own free will. There was little hesitation. The humans closest to the arm entered until it was full. The floor lifted and they disappeared inside the ship. A minute later, the elevator returned, empty of people. The process was repeated. Finally, it was Kray and Lina and Pitr’s turn. They went inside. The elevator went up, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The elevator slid along passages in the ship, before coming to a halt. A door slid open and an empty bay inside the warship beckoned. They exited and once they were all inside, the door slid shut behind them.
*****
Warships flew out of portals on the Battle Core that had just arrived, each carrying their cargo of various Scale life. They headed toward a Core that was different than all the others.
The surface was perfectly smooth and black, indicating it had never suffered the travails of FTLT or battle. It was larger than a Battle Core by twenty percent. It was also rotating at a speed that produced centrifugal force on the interior of outer hull.
Twenty equidistant portals led to the interior. As the warships entered their designated portal, they passed through a ten-kilometer-thick, black exoskeleton, then red living material and a flexible airlock and then a two-kilometer-thick, hard inner frame. The interior was sectioned off, with narrow walls extending toward an inner power source that mimicked a sun.
In essence, this Core wasn’t a Battle Core; it was a Life Core, designed to allow Scale to survive on the curvature on the inside the Core’s hull.
*****
Kray was the first to step out of the warship, his knees buckling as he adjusted to full gravity for the first time in a while. He paused in wonder as he was in the midst of a field of grass. Not far away was a forest. Except it curved upward, the opposite of a planet. This section of the Core stretched over one hundred and fifty kilometers wide and went north and south to each end, which were out of sight in the hazy distance. Far away, warships were doing the same, emptying their living cargo.
“What is this?” Lina wondered.
Kray felt a blade of the tall grass. Not far away, a deer was startled out of the field and raced into the woods. There were thousands of humans left behind, marveling at the world around them as the warship returned to the portal and departed.
“It’s our new home,” Kray said.
“But why?” Lina voiced to question on everyone’s mind.
Kray stood and looked about. “Perhaps this is a larger zoo? So, the Swarm can study us? Perhaps it is something else.”
“How can we see up?” Lina asked. “This doesn’t make sense. This world is curved in the wrong direction. I feel dizzy.”
Kray nodded. “It is odd. As if we are on the inside of the world instead of the outside, which is likely what has happened. Remember the cargo bays? It is as if we are in one but on the roof.” He pointed. “And that sun, whatever it is, I don’t think it moves. There are clouds, though. Do you see? But they seem to be going in slow circles. This is very strange.”
“It scares me,” Lina said.
“As much as the cage?”
“No. Not as much as the cage.”
VICTORY
ISIS, MAJOR MOON OF EARTH15
Osiris locked the pulse cannons onto the incoming spaceship. In another minute it would be within range. An indicator light flashed on another console and Osiris glanced at it. He felt a surge of hope as he recognized an inbound mothership.
He reached for the transmitter with his free hand, the other hovering over the fire command for the pulse cannons.
*****
Inside the Enan, while Markus piloted, Bren adjusted the targeting system that Arcturus had installed for the Tesla cannon. The trigger, simply a button on the small screen, was red. Her finger waited, while she remembered Arcturus’s instructions.
The light flashed green and she tapped it.
*****
Osiris saw the flash of white, which masked the incoming spacecraft. Since it was traveling at the speed of light, he only had the chance to whisper “Isis, my—" before the control center was blasted wide open and he was spaced.
*****
“Victory!” Markus shouted. He decelerated the Enan and angled it away from a collision course with Isis.
“Let us go home,” Bren said. She smiled. “Odd to say that, since this isn’t our planet. But now, we must make it our home.”
WORMEHILL TOWER
Arcturus lowered the Tesla coil, but left the pole up. He reached out and ran his fingers through Isengrim’s fur. “So far so good.”
Isengrim gave a low growl of approval.
He let go of Isengrim and put his hands back on the small guardian.
The Atlantean army was dispersing, the mercenaries scurrying away, the wargs wandering aimlessly, without purpose. A smoldering hole was all the remained of the Toll Tower and Horus. Arcturus knew there wasn’t enough of him to put back together again, even with the nanites from the Grail. The talon had crashed in a field not far away.
The rain was still coming down, although not as heavily.
A line of skirmishers was moving forward out of the treeline toward the North Wall, led by Paric and accompanied by Drusa and Gorm.
Arcturus checked the Msats. Atlantis was occupied by Cetic’s Great Alliance without a fight. The fleet portion of that Alliance was sailing into the harbor. The shield wall was down.
Arcturus smiled as he felt the connection. Through the guardian he could see Moroi in the control sphere high atop the Citadel-Tower, Excalibur in her hand. It had taken them a long time to penetrate underneath the shield wall and forge a way into the Roads of Rostau in order to be able to achieve this.
“Moroi?”
Moroi was startled, looking about for the source of the voice that echoed inside the sphere. “Arcturus? Where are you?”
“Close your eyes,” Arcturus said. “See me.”
“Ah!” Moroi said. “In my mind’s eye.”
“I’m still at Wormehill,” he said. “We’re connected via the guardians. Since you have Excalibur, you control the master guardian at the top of the tower, above you. I see you’ve dropped the shield and Cetic has the city.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Arcturus said. “The Walkers stopped the Airlia from sending out a distress call. They, and Orlock, will be back in a few hours from Isis.”
“I’m not sure what to do now,” Moroi said. “I had not allowed myself to even think of succeeding.”
“Understandable,” Arcturus said. “And yet you have.”
“You were correct suggesting we dig those tunnels so many years ago,” Moroi said. “I thought it was just to spy, but now . . .” She paused.
“The diversion from the Great Alliance with Drusa is marching up Lions Road,” Arcturus said. “There will be there before dawn. The mercenaries are either going home or joining the Alliance.”
“The Hegemony Army?” Moroi asked.
“Without the Airlia in command,” Arcturus said, “they will go home. They have no enmity toward the people of Southren or the Nagil.”
“I suppose we need to find the Grail,” Moroi said and that verged on being a question.
“Ah, the Grail,” Arcturus said. “It should be in the Ark in the Hall of Records inside the Red Sphinx and very difficult to get to. However, I’m afraid finding it will be of no use. One of the stones needed to activate it was destroyed with Horus.”
“Horus is dead?”
“Gone,” Arcturus said.
“And Anubis?”
“She is most likely in great pain right now,” Arcturus said. “I will gather her up shortly.”
“And do what with her?”
“We’ll have a chat. And do not concern yourself with the Grail.”
Moroi was nodding. “Perhaps just as well. I’m not sure anything good could come of it. Look what it did to the Airlia.” She frowned. “The humans will not be happy about it, though.”
Arcturus smiled. “You never cease to amaze, Moroi. You ar
e a remarkable woman. Your many years have given you wisdom. You are correct. Nothing good can come from the Grail unless there are much greater changes than just the overthrow of the Airlia.”
“Such as?”
“That is for you and the others to decide,” Arcturus said.
“Are you coming here?” Moroi asked. “We could use your wisdom.”
“You have used it. Very effectively. And your own. In the coming hours and days there will be much to decide. Speaking of which, what of the remaining Airlia?”
“My elders have them secure in one of the duats.”
“What do you plan on doing with them?” Arcturus asked.
“I don’t know,” Moroi admitted. “Most will want them dead. Crucified on the head of the Sphinx as they did to so many others. What do you say?”
“I say it is your choice. You and the others. Ask Cetic, as he commands the humans. You have won. Now you must make the decisions amongst yourselves. Humans and Nagil. I wish you well.”
Arcturus cut the connection with the master guardian and Moroi. He did a quick scan of systems and paused as an alert from a Sentinel pinged. Something had just come out of FTLT on the outside of the Solar System.
A second mothership.
OUR EARTH
THE RECENT PAST
AREA 51
The spacecraft Mike Turcotte piloted back to Earth was saucer shaped with a bulge in the forward center and two large pods in the rear, which housed the STL engines. The Fynbar was dull gray and the surface was scarred and battered. It was the craft Lisa Duncan, originally known as Donnchadh, and her mate, long-deceased, had flown to Earth and secreted at Stonehenge over ten millennia ago to begin their covert war against the hidden Airlia.
