The Reckoning: War of the Ancients Trilogy Book 3

by Alex Kings

  It paused. The Shadowwalkers met him with cold silence, but a few powered down their monopole cannons.

  “Listen! I have lived for fifty-five thousand years. Still I find myself making mistakes. But when I do, I try to make them right. When it became clear the Pax Galactica was doing harm, I turned against it. We can never undo the damage done in the past. But, no matter how long we have been in this world, we weave our lives choice by choice. Every moment is an opportunity to choose differently, to be better than we once were. I ask you now to choose, to stand with us in this battle. We remain your kin. And if we lose, the Tethyan will most certainly become extinct.”

  Silence hung for close to a minute. Deep within its superstructure, the Firmament felt its crew waiting.

  At last the Shadowwalkers spoke.

  “Leave now.”

  “As you wish,” the Firmament said. It pulled out of orbit, powering up its jump engines. Before leaving, it paused. “I said I have a gift.” It followed these words with a giant block of data.

  “What is this?” asked the Shadowwalker.

  “Call it a list of our mistakes. It is – all of Tethyan history.”

  With that, the Firmament jumped away.

  *

  For an hour, Anne worked. Steriliser nanotech fabric covered everything. Cherry-red tubes led from an artificial lung inside the big machine to ports in Emily's skin. When the machine chimed, Anne opened a chamber and extracted thin pink films – newly cultured lung tissue – sandwiched between sheets of sterile smart matter. Thin metallic robot arms folded them with superhuman expertise, and snaked up tubes in Emily's nose.

  When Anne made it clear her help was no longer needed, Agatha retreated to pace the cockpit. She watched the stars for a while. Everything might fall apart around her, and if Emily died here, it would be her fault. She was so used to the feeling that it barely even troubled her.

  Am I a bad person? She'd decided on the answer to that years ago.

  After a while, she went back into the lounge. Anne had finished and packed the equipment away. Only the tubes of blood coming out of Emily's chest remained. Emily herself was pale but seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

  “That was some complex shit,” Agatha said. “Are you her carer or her surgeon?”

  Anne shrugged. “I have a specialised skill set.”

  “Will she be okay?”

  “If the graft works.”

  They stood in silence. Anne patted down her pockets and swore softly. “Do you have a cigarette? I'm out.”

  Wordlessly, Agatha headed back into the kitchen area, then into the passenger quarters, where a case of her effects lay sprawled open on the floor. She returned with a pack and a lighter and gave it to Anne.

  “I don't normally smoke,” Anne said, moving to the far side of the room where she could keep an eye on Emily without subjecting her to the smoke. “But after something like this …” She lit it and took a drag. “I need to do something with my hands.”

  Agatha gave her a weak smile. “I know the feeling.”

  The ship jumped. Anne turned down a second cigarette. They waited, paced, read.

  Emily murmured something. Her eyes fluttered open. Immediately Anne was by her side.

  “Hello,” said Emily. “Did I fall over again?”

  Anne nodded. “But you're okay now.” She checked the readout, then tapped at the machine's console. “This'll sting a bit.” She disconnected the tubes. Emily grimaced silently, then lay back while Anne finished packing away the machine.

  “How you feeling, kid?” Agatha asked.

  Emily gave her a weak smile. “Sleepy.”

  Srak's voice came over the comms. “Agatha, get up here. Final jump's here.”

  “Alright,” said Agatha. As she headed for the cockpit, she heard the jump engines hum. The ship groaned as it passed through a wormhole. Anne followed her.

  The main display covered one wall. Srak had already put the telescope feed up there. Against the backdrop of a cratered, airless rock, a dodecahedron orbited. It was small, barely a hundred metres across. Its surface was covered in dishes and antennae and laser turrets.

  “What's that?” Anne asked.

  Agatha looked around at her and gave a short sigh, like she was giving up any attempt at pretence. “Our direct line to Millicent,” she said.

  “We're half a light hour out,” Srak said. “I've got us hiding in the glare of another planet, so they shouldn't see us coming.”

  He stepped away from the console and stretched. He led them out of the cockpit.

  Agatha glanced at Emily, who had gone back to sleep, as they walked through the lounge. Then she started explaining to Anne.

  “It's an Albascene outpost. We just need to go down there and grab its bulkwave transmitters and ID code. So you'll be on your own for a couple of hours. Don't worry, it should be fine.”

  “Perfectly safe,” muttered Anne.

  Agatha ignored this. They headed down a set of oversized stairs to where Hayes' stealth shuttle was crouched in the bay. Agatha and Srak set about putting their armour on, then climbed inside. Srak took up most of the room, with Agatha at the front, sitting on his tail. Anne stood watching with her arms crossed.

  Agatha looked over at Anne. “See you soon,” she said, tapping the control panel. The door swung shut. A moment later, a hatch opened behind the shuttle, and it slid backwards. The hatch closed and there was a faint clunk as the shuttle launched.

  Anne shook her head and walked back to the lounge.

  Chapter 67: Message to a Friend

  Pierce was sitting in his quarters watching the stars when the news came in.

  He had given up reading. The voices in his head had become too distracting. He could make them out now. They were the Oracle's words – or thoughts – bouncing around inside his own skull. Sometimes he disagreed with them, but he felt them overriding his own thoughts. Their tentacles wound through his brain and played with his reactions.

  He ignored them now, as he listened to the report on his tablet.

  “What do you mean, unexpected loss?” he asked calmly.

  The man on the other end, a high-level employee, stood on the CIC of a former Alliance vessel. It was clearly damaged, with half the consoles dead and a broken stanchion protruding from floor to ceiling. Blanks stood silently at various consoles.

  “We lost Tethya,” the man said. “Both Ancient ships guarding it have been destroyed.”

  Pierce's fingers dug momentarily into the arm of his chair. “How?” he whispered hoarsely.

  “They brought the Afanc with them. It disabled the ships somehow. And they have monopole cannons fitted to the Varanid and Alliance fleets.”

  Before Pierce could respond, the Oracle's voice returned, too loud to ignore: You should have burnt the planet, boiled its oceans, as suggested.

  His employee looked puzzled. At last, the voice passed, and Pierce could hear his own thoughts again. “Send us all battle telemetry,” he said. “And return to Earth.”

  He killed the link before the man could respond, and with a shaking hand, put the tablet on the table without contracting it.

  Tethya is of no importance, came the voice.

  It was right. For now, at least. The enemy succeeded only because they had the Afanc. That meant he had to destroy it. And he knew where they'd be coming next.

  He left his quarters and headed for Millicent. She was so absorbed in whatever she was doing that she didn't notice him at first.

  “Millicent!”

  She turned, eyes wide.

  “Call all Ancient ships back to the Solar System, now.”

  “I … uh …”

  “Now!”

  “Yes, Mr. Pierce.”

  Pierce stood up straighter and took a moment to regain control. He'd never snapped at Millicent before. She was only surprised because it was an order she hadn't been expecting. Because it was an order, he realised, that reeked of desperation rather than control. “We must sacrifice so
me of our gains for now,” he explained calmly. “Once the Afanc is destroyed, nothing will stand in our way.”

  Millicent nodded without looking up. “We have confirmation. All the Ancient ships are coming to meet us.”

  “Good,” said Pierce. He turned and retreated to his quarters without another word.

  Standing, looking out at Earth, the voice returned. Burn it. Irradiate its atmosphere. Scour all life from its surface. Mars, too. This will demoralise the humans. They will have nothing left to fight for.

  He stumbled back, arguing out loud. “No! There are ten billion people down there. I'm doing this to help humanity, not destroy it!”

  All the life-bearing planets. Cleanse them. You have no need of them. We have no need of them.

  A needle of pain seemed to lance through his forehead, deep into his skull. “You're inside my head, but you still have no understanding of how humans think. If we destroy Earth, they will fight for revenge.”

  The grip released suddenly, leaving him shuddering.

  *

  The stealth shuttle glided back towards the Varanid ship. Agatha, sitting on Srak's tail at the front of the craft, whistled to herself and turned over a laser module in her hands. There had been sixteen Albascene on the station, all but minding their own business. Now there were ten, knocked out with their own stun-prods and locked in one of the storage compartments down below with their effector fields disabled. She'd gone back to her old habit of counting those dead by her own hand.

  Still, now they had contact. The Albascene were allies of the Terran Dominion, so the station would have a bulkwave to Millicent. With the modifications she and Srak had made, they could route the Varanid ship's comms directly through the station.

  She brought the shuttle up to the Varanid ship and entered the airlock.

  As soon as the doors were open, they climbed out. “I'll jump us in,” Srak said, stripping his armour off. “You do the rest.”

  Agatha followed him up the ramp and stopped in the lounge, where Emily was still sleeping.

  Anne was sitting on a chair opposite, reading a tablet. She looked up as Agatha entered. “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Well,” said Agatha.

  “You're hurt.”

  Agatha glanced down at the smart matter plaster just above her wrist. “Yeah,” she said, holding up the laser with her other hand. “This thing. Got through the armour. Nothing serious.” She waggled her fingers to demonstrate.

  Anne sighed, clearly unimpressed with her casual attitude to danger and injury.

  “How is she?” said Agatha, looking at Emily.

  “Better,” said Anne. “Just exhausted. She woke up for a while. Asked where you'd gone.”

  Agatha smiled faintly.

  “Prepare for jump,” came Srak's voice over the comms. The ship jumped.

  “Where are we going now?” asked Anne.

  “Coming in close so there's no lightspeed delay,” said Agatha. She sat down beside her. “Look, I'm sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “For everything … and for this.” She reached and touched Anne's shoulder with the stun prod.

  “What?” said Anne, before falling back against the chair.

  Agatha stood and laid her down, so it looked like Anne had fallen asleep. “It's easier this way,” she explained softly.

  Assured of that, she went over to Emily and roused her gently.

  “You're back.”

  “I am. Hey, kid, do you wanna come see the cockpit? Srak will show you a space station.”

  Emily blinked a few times. She saw Anne, then looked up at Agatha. “Okay,” she said.

  Agatha led her into the cockpit and guided her into the pilot's chair. Srak sprawled to one side. Agatha stood behind her. Emily seemed caught between the complex array of controls and the station, visible through the window like an irregular moon above the planet's cratered surface.

  While she was occupied, Agatha nodded at Srak, who started the recording.

  “Hi, Milly,” Agatha said sweetly at the camera. “I think we should talk.” She took her pistol and levelled it at Emily's head. “Soon.”

  Emily was so busy looking at the station that she didn't notice.

  Srak ended the recording, and Agatha put away the pistol.

  “What was that?” asked Emily.

  “Message to a friend,” said Agatha. She moved around the chair to the console and transmitted the message.

  Chapter 68: Hi, Milly

  The Anti-Dominion fleet, en route to the Solar System. ETA: 3 hours.

  The first message came from Iona. Mayor Orlov appeared on the screen, standing in her office.

  “It's gone,” she said. “I don't know how you did it, but the Ancient ship cleared out, not half an hour ago. No goodbye, no explanation. It just jumped away.”

  Hanson was watching the message from his ready-room, but Admiral Chang replied. “Acknowledged,” he said with a grave nod. “But hold off the celebrations for now. We're not out of the woods yet. I'll keep you updated.”

  After that, more messages began to trickle in. From Shangdu, then Atlantis, Kepler, and Nova. The Tethyans reported that two of their conquered colonies had been abandoned by the ships guarding them.

  When it was over, Chang contacted Hanson. “You know what this means,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “All of them,” said Hanson. “Every Ancient ship we were tracking.”

  “We could barely defeat two ships. How are we going to handle eleven?” Chang said.

  “It'll be a hell of a battle, that's for sure,” said Hanson. “The Afanc can only disable two ships at a time. But we have the chaff as well. We should be able to put up something of a fight.”

  “I hope you're right,” murmured Chang.

  *

  Millicent stared at her computer screen. Timidly extending her hand, as if the console were the muzzle of a rabid dog, she commanded the recording to play again.

  The dark and hellish lighting of a Varanid ship. The cruel lines of the pistol hiding behind her. The merciless mercenaries. Emily.

  She recognised the Varanid as the one who had tried to pose as Arka.

  Three replays. But as soon as it was over, it started to feel unreal, like a nightmare, and she felt like she had to see it again, to make sure it was really real.

  She turned to glower at Pierce's door. This was his fault. If only he'd listened to her earlier, if only he'd cared more …

  But worrying about that would accomplish nothing. Millicent was a doer. Quick and efficient. She turned back to the computer and called up everything she could find about the source of the message.

  An Albascene outpost. It was too far to send a ship, not with a battle on the horizon. Hayes wasn't returning her messages – captured, most likely. And she didn't trust the Albascene to send a ship in for her. It was, for all intents and purposes, out of reach.

  With a sigh, she sent a call through, live.

  She had to wait less than a minute for a response.

  The short one – Agatha, that was her name – appeared on the screen. Her face betrayed no hint of sympathy. “Hi, Milly,” she said.

  “Where is she?”

  Agatha was clearly expecting this. She turned. “Hey kid, there's someone here who wants to see you!”

  Emily came running in. Her eyes widened when she saw the screen. “Hi!”

  “Emily,” said Millicent. She found herself smiling without expecting to, but also on the verge of tears. “How are you? Are they treating you okay?”

  “It's so cool! I saw Tethya, and I saw Ghroga, and there's a Varanid here with me! When can I visit you?”

  Agatha retreated into the background. Looking directly at the camera, she put a finger over her lips, and took out her gun briefly, just enough to show it to Millicent and remind her it was there.

  “Soon … soon, I hope,” said Millicent.

  “Everyone says that,” Emily said, clearly unimpre
ssed. Then she peered at Millicent's face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

  Millicent nodded. “I'm just … tired. Don't worry about me. Now … I need to talk to Miss Agatha, okay? Then maybe she'll take you to see me in a couple of days, okay?”

  Emily thought this over. “Okay!” she said, and left the cockpit.

  Once the door was closed, Agatha sat back down.

  “I guess I should thank you for not traumatising her,” Millicent said, in a tone of voice which indicated thanking Agatha for anything was the last thing on her mind.

  “Not unless I have to,” said Agatha.

  Millicent glared at her. “How can you do this?” she said. “Threaten her life to get what you want?”

  Agatha responded with a sharp, joyless bark of laughter. “How can I do this? Look at whose side you're on! Do you know how many people have died in this war? How many more will die? Go on, please tell me you have some figures on that tablet of yours.”

  For a few seconds, Millicent looked away. When she spoke, her voice was nearly a whisper. “Yes. You're right. So long as Emily is safe, let the galaxy burn.” She turned to face Agatha again. “So what do you want?”

  “You're about to go into a battle, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then lose. I don't care how.”

  “Right … fine …” Millicent gestured rapidly at her console, pulling every bit of information she had, every strategic plan, every order, every report. She put them together and sent them to Agatha. “There. Happy?”

  Agatha paused, reading the information, then looked up. “Not yet,” she said.

  “What else do you want me to do?”

  “Sabotage, maybe?”

  “How?”

  “I'm sure you'll think of something,” said Agatha. “I'll be watching. And if the battle goes well, I'll bring Emily to see you, just like you want, okay?”

  Millicent nodded silently.