Sunset (Pact Arcanum)

by Arshad Ahsanuddin

  “I’m sorry,” said Nick. “I never learned much about Guild regulations. I don’t deal much with Spacers.”

  “Why not?”

  Nick smiled sadly to himself. “Envy.”

  Michael snorted. “I’m the one who should envy you, Nick. This might be the start of a war that will tear the world apart, and you still have your loved ones around you. I haven’t seen my family since my Gift kindled two years ago in Venice.”

  “You’re Italian?” asked Nick.

  “No. American. We were tourists. I was supposed to be taking a tour of the cathedral at St. Mark’s Square, but I snuck away to explore on my own. Just as it was getting dark, I was heading back to my hotel when I took a wrong turn, wandered into an alley where a Nightwalker was killing someone in the shadows. I ran off into the crowd, terrified. Wandered the streets for hours afterward, trying to understand what I’d seen.

  “When the memories came and I opened my eyes, I didn’t want to put my family at risk. I walked away and never went back. Managed to find a local Sentinel team that told me about the Armistice, so I came back to America. Shapeshifted into a bird and flew the whole way, actually. That’s when I learned to love flying. Joined the Spacer Guild as soon as I found out it existed.”

  “That took a lot of courage, Icarus. I didn’t have the guts to leave my family and friends behind,” Nick said, looking squarely at Toby.

  “No. You’re wrong. I took the coward’s way out.” Michael’s voice was bitter. “If I’d been brave, I would’ve told my family the truth. The biggest regret of my life is that I never said goodbye to them, just up and disappeared one day. I might as well be dead in a ditch for all they know. Hell, they probably think I ran away.”

  Nick straightened. “Ran away?”

  Michael was silent momentarily. “That might have been a poor choice of words.”

  Nick’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Michael,” he asked, “how old are you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Rapier, has the Horizon entered the planetary communications envelope yet?” asked Nick.

  “Yes.”

  “Open a video link with Horizon Command. Full screen.”

  “Nick, I don’t think—” Michael started to say.

  “Do it now, Rapier!” Nick cut him off.

  “Video link established.”

  A virtual screen appeared in front of them, showing the jumpship cockpit.

  Toby swore loudly. But Nick just stared in shock as Captain Danvers swiveled in his chair to face them. “Hey, guys.”

  Jeremy did a double take. “Merciful God.”

  “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot.” Michael stretched in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, completely at ease as he regarded Nick. “Meet the youngest full Captain in the entire fleet,” he said proudly.

  “How old, Michael?” Nick demanded, his stomach lurching.

  Michael shrugged. “I turned fifteen three months ago.”

  “Oh, hell, no. I won’t do this.” Nick met Michael’s eyes. “Break your course and power down your engines, Captain Danvers.”

  Michael shook his head. “I’ve seen your sensor readings on the missile, Nick. You’re right, a jumpship is the only way to get close enough to take it out. If I don’t do this, the entire city will burn.”

  “Then let it burn!”

  Michael regarded him soberly. “And I’m supposed to live with that? Not a chance. Sentinels have honor, too.”

  Nick fixed the young captain with a red-eyed glare. “Captain Danvers, I am giving you a direct order to stand down.”

  “Archangel, I reject your authority.” Michael smiled.

  Nick blinked, his irises shifting fully back to blue in surprise. “You what?”

  “I am Spacer Guild, not Armistice Security, Archangel. Our autonomy is guaranteed by charter. Guild regulations specifically state that the Captain of a jumpvessel in flight has absolute authority over any decision that impacts the survival of the ship or its crew, and this certainly qualifies. There are no exceptions and no loopholes. If you wish to challenge my command authority, you can submit a protest to the Guildmaster at your leisure.”

  Michael dropped his hands into his lap. “You were right in what you said before.” He glanced at the telltale display on his navigation console. “It was my choice, and I made it. Now, I have just over six minutes left, I don’t want to waste them trading barbs with the Archangel. I’d like to spend those minutes with my friend Nick again, if you don’t mind.”

  “Icarus,” said Jeremy, desperately trying to think of an alternative, “isn’t there any way you can get out in time?”

  Michael shook his head. “Teleport is offline as long as the Recursion Drive is active, and I won’t get there in time if I switch to Gravity Drive.” He leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “Besides, the navigation AI’s primary duty is to preserve the safety of the ship and its crew. It will reject an order to self-destruct. I’ll have to take it off-line and fly the last bit on manual.” He turned back to the navigation console. “Sorry, Radiant.”

  “I have no regrets, Captain,” said the AI. “I appreciate your respect for my ethical programming.”

  Nick took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Michael. If I had known, I would never have involved you.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You’re wrong, Nick. You would have hated it, but you would have done the same thing.” He leaned forward. “I have been following your work closely, to be honest. You gave me so much hope. I kept thinking that someday, if you succeeded in bridging the gap to humanity, it would be safe for me to track down my family and tell them the truth.” His expression turned sad. “I kept putting it off, though. Now it’s too late. I just wish I had a little more time.”

  Nick bit his tongue to keep from screaming. “I can find them for you, Icarus. Maybe you could record a letter for me to pass on.”

  Michael’s head jerked upward. Then he laughed. “Radiant, upload my personal database to the Archangel’s AI.”

  “Upload in progress.”

  He turned to Nick. “My parents’ are Jason and Margaret Danvers. They lived in Phoenix, last I know. There’s a directory in my personal files called ‘Correspondence.’ I wrote a letter to each of them every day since I first opened my eyes more than two years ago. There are hundreds of them.”

  “Do you have the files, Rapier?” Nick asked, his voice tight.

  “Download complete. In addition to the Correspondence directory, there is also a sizable multimedia file entitled ‘Recollections’.”

  Michael nodded. “My journal.”

  “Do you want me to send that to them, too?”

  Michael shook his head. “No, that’s for you.”

  “For me?”

  Michael sighed. “I think you’re probably going to beat yourself up about this later. But you’re just seeing my age, not the quality of my life.” He sat up straight. “In two years, I’ve visited all of the Outer Colonies and seen the stars from the surface of four worlds. I’ve flown between Saturn’s rings. I’ve watched hurricanes the size of the Earth tumble across the face of Jupiter. I wouldn’t give that up for a long and boring life Earthbound. If those experiences mean I have to scatter my ashes across the sky, then so be it. Read my journal, Nick, and convince yourself that I led a full life, no matter how old I am.”

  “Icarus,” Nick said softly, “I’ve killed you, and in return you’re giving me a whole world I will never see.”

  Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Michael,” Jeremy said quietly, moving behind Nick to squeeze his shoulder, “Nick has Recursion Dyssynchrony.”

  “Very fucking amusing,” Michael said tersely, “Recursion Dyssynchrony is the Spacer bogeyman—a story to scare third-stage Cadets before they start jumpship navigation training. There’s been, like, a dozen cases since jumpdrive was invented.”

  “There’s been twelve cases, exactly,” Nick said. “I was case ten.”

&nb
sp; “You’re serious?” Captain Danvers gaped at him. “But it’s fatal.”

  “For mortals. The vampire victims lapsed into a coma for a few weeks instead of dying immediately. Three of us survived. They kept our names confidential. Raf is the only one of the others I know personally.”

  “Raf?”

  “A Nightwalker, from Icehaven. One of your third-stage Cadets who didn’t believe in the bogeyman. We met at the funeral of the most recent Sentinel case, just over a year ago. We get together for a few drinks every couple of weeks.”

  “Rafael Tervilant,” Michael said. “I saw you talking to him at William’s memorial service. You were the only ones who weren’t wearing Spacer Green.”

  “You were there?”

  “William was a classmate of mine. The two of you caused quite a stir: the Dirtsider vampire lord and the only third-stage Cadet to have achieved Master Pilot rank with an absolutely perfect rating in conventional flight. He was my idol.” Michael took a deep breath. “They told us he quit after a training accident. He lives in Icehaven?”

  “Yes. The only place in the Armistice where you can look up at night and not see the stars. He doesn’t like to be reminded of the life he had to give up.” Nick sighed. “I’ll never see any of the places you’ve been, Icarus. I can’t get farther away than the Citadel. I will live out my days Earthbound.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I would never have said that if I had known.”

  “I made peace with it a long time ago. There are plenty of wonders on Earth I have yet to see.”

  “There’s still conventional flight.” Michael looked at him with pity. “You don’t have to give up so easily.”

  Nick shook his head. “Raf worked it out. To reach Ares Colony would take almost six weeks at sustained maximum Gravity Drive, let alone the Outer Colonies. No jumpship could possibly maintain environment or power output that long without burning out the reactor cores. They’re just not designed to operate continuously for more than a month at a time.”

  “The Odyssey’s power cores could do it,” Michael replied.

  Nick rolled his eyes and gave a weak smile. “The Odyssey doesn’t count. Besides, it won’t be back for decades. I doubt the Guild will build another one just for me.” He stepped forward, directly in front of the screen. “Thank you for thinking of me, Michael, even after what I’ve asked you to do. You opened a door for me that I thought was closed forever. I wish I could offer you the same mercy. All I can do for you is swear on my life that I will deliver your letters to your family with my own hands. And I’ll remember you when I read your journal. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never be forgotten.”

  Rapier broke the silence. “New tactical update received. The Anchorpoint Transit Hub has suffered cascade failure of its transmission cores due to overload. The teleport gateway network is offline. Evacuation of the city has terminated. All available power is being diverted to reinforce the municipal shield grid. Projected death toll is revised to exceed one million, two hundred thousand casualties. Impact in two minutes, ten seconds.”

  Nick took a deep breath. “It’s all up to you now, Icarus.”

  Captain Danvers opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his ship’s AI. “Captain, I am receiving a priority audio communication from Anchorpoint, originating with the Traveler.”

  Michael raised his eyebrows. “Put him through.”

  “Captain Danvers, I wish we could have spoken again under better circumstances,” said Rory.

  “I’m surprised you remember me, my Lord.”

  “Trust me, Michael, you made an impression.”

  “Rory!” Nick finally found his voice. “What the hell are you still doing in Anchorpoint?”

  “Everyone in Armistice Security took their names off the evacuation roster to give more civilians time to get out. This is my city, Nicholas. I stayed behind with Take. I’ll probably survive regardless, but I forced Layla to leave in order to maintain continuity of leadership if the city falls.

  “Captain Danvers,” Rory said, his voice turning brutally cold, “I have been reviewing the audiovisual recorder data from your emergency telemetry. I know what Nick has asked you to do. Am I correct in understanding you have activated your Captain’s failsafe?”

  “Yes, sir. I invoked the emergency protocol as soon as I changed course to Anchorpoint.”

  “That was very wise, Captain.” The Nightwalker’s voice reverberated with rage. “Believe me when I say that if you hadn’t isolated your navigation systems from external control, I would have disabled your ship in a heartbeat to prevent you from sacrificing your life, regardless of the cost.”

  “That’s why the failsafe protocol exists, my Lord, so a Captain’s judgment can’t be overridden.” Michael exhaled and continued. “Don’t weep for me, sir. My eyes are open, and I am not afraid.”

  “I’m aware of that, Captain. I was a Sentinel once, and I know the drill. Sacrifice is programmed into your genes. Part of my bargain with the White Wind was to free the Children of Twilight from throwing their lives away on the altar of duty ever again.” Rory sighed. “That being said, I understand you are committed to this course of action. I won’t cheapen your resolve by arguing. Good luck, Captain. All our prayers go with you. May God grant you safe passage through the Gates of Morning into everlasting light.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” said Michael. “But I’m a Spacer. Starlight is all I need.”

  “Then I hope you find peace among your stars, Icarus. Traveler out.”

  “Communication terminated,” the ship’s AI informed them. “Twenty seconds to the Colorado defense perimeter. Priority clearance to cross the defense grid has been granted. Intercept in thirty seconds.”

  Michael looked at the other three. “Time’s up, guys. It’s been nice knowing you, but I’m going to need to concentrate now. Thank you for being my friends. I’ll be looking for you on the other side, but please don’t hurry on my account.” He spun his chair around, facing forward. “Radiant, activate the command module hologrid.” In the background, the walls of the cockpit glowed white and then showed a view of racing clouds above and below the instrument panels. “Bring us into a parallel course with the target aircraft, one hundred meters off the starboard bow, and match velocities.”

  “The missile has entered the Colorado defense perimeter,” said Rapier.

  “Access the defense grid sensors and show me,” Nick commanded.

  An additional virtual screen opened up next to the view of the jumpship cockpit; it revealed the long, blunt-nosed cylinder of the missile at the head of a plume of fire, surrounded by the bright green light of its shields. Then, in a fraction of a second, the Horizon was there, dwarfing the missile, an enormous arrowhead of white metal surrounded by the coruscating glow of the jumpdrive matrix.

  Onscreen, Michael looked to his right. “Well, aren’t you an ugly little bitch?” he said to the missile, now visible in the hologrid projection. Turning back to the front of the cockpit, he took hold of the controls. “Radiant, release flight controls to manual operation.”

  “Confirmed. Manual flight engaged.”

  “Radiant, I could never have asked for a better ship,” Michael said proudly, his voice calm and unwavering.

  “Thank you, Captain. It has been an honor to serve with you.”

  “The honor was mine. Execute AI shutdown protocol.”

  “Offline.”

  Michael turned again, squinting at the missile. “Hey, bitch!” he yelled. “You’re mine now!” His hands moved suddenly on the controls, and the view of the sky shifted.

  On the other screen, the jumpship leapt ahead of the missile and spun ninety degrees into its path. The missile slammed into the ship dead center. The cockpit view went black as the exterior view erupted in blinding white.

  “New tactical update received,” Rapier said after seconds. “Anchorpoint Control reports an airborne thermonuclear detonation eight miles southwest of the city center. The blast wave impacted but di
d not penetrate the municipal shield grid, resulting in only minor damage to the most outlying structures. Radiation exposure protocols are now being implemented.” The AI paused for a moment. “It appears Captain Danvers was successful.”

  “Icarus,” Toby said quietly. “His name was Icarus.”

  The three stood in silence for several minutes before a voice interrupted them. “Nicholas.”

  They all turned as Layla appeared behind them. “Congratulations, Archangel,” she said, gazing fixedly at Nick. “You played your part well.”

  CHAPTER 45

  “What are you talking about?” Nick asked angrily. “I wasn’t playing at anything.”

  “Yes, you were, Nick.” She stared at him impassively. “You just didn’t know the rules of the game.”

  She stepped past them to stare at the electronic map, the missile telltale blinking at the location where its transponder signal had been lost. “For thousands of years, we have wondered what the consequences would be if we were discovered by humans. The possibility of war with the humans, if we could not find a way to coexist, has been the subject of Armistice Security simulations for years. The nuclear destruction of Anchorpoint, or one of the other Hidden Cities, at the hands of humanity has always formed a major component of those simulations.

  “The details varied, depending on the starting parameters, but the progression was virtually always the same: a war of retribution by the Armistice against humankind or, failing that, an invasion of the Armistice Zone by the Court of Shadows to take advantage of our weakness. More often than not, a war on two fronts was predicted. We would have been stronger, but vastly outnumbered.

  “The war would have continued to escalate until both sides destroyed each other completely, finally resorting to nuclear and gravitic weapons, resulting in the extermination of all life in North America and the decimation of the rest of the planetary population. The global ecologic collapse that followed would have snuffed out any survivors.”

  Layla sat wearily in one of the workstation chairs, her eyes intent on Nick. “You were never told the full findings of our projections because we knew that such a war was unwinnable. We have known since before Los Angeles that we would not be able to stop the killing once the war began. There was only one thing we were sure of—that when the moment came, we could not afford to be divided. The Triumvirate system of government could not function in wartime. We needed a single leader, someone who would be instantly recognizable to our people, someone who could galvanize our defense and lead us into battle. After Los Angeles, we knew there was only one logical choice for the job.”