by J. N. Chaney
He fired.
The mountain collapsed. The surge of gravity simply ripped it apart. Nearby ridges and peaks turned to rubble that plunged into the artificial gravity well. Seismic shock waves ripped through the planet’s crust, triggering powerful earthquakes that rattled through the planet, cracking the landscape and triggering avalanches.
More importantly, though, the three fighters were wrenched into momentary, vertical climbs, as gravity abruptly shifted ninety degrees. The pilots fought to compensate, but the effect ended, the planet’s own gravity reasserted itself, and two of them dove into the terrain, vanishing in rolling explosions and clouds of debris. The third rocketed straight upward instead; it gave Dash the chance he needed, firing the dark-lance and blasting it from the sky.
“Dash,” Leira shouted. “What the hell?”
“You guys okay?” he cut in. “Benzel?” His stomach clenched hard, waiting for Leira to say that he’d hurt or killed some, or even all, of the Gentle Friends.
“Still here,” Benzel said. “That was—shit, let’s not do that again, okay? I mean, we’re used to sudden shifts in gravity, but aboard spaceships, not on the ground.”
Dash breathed. “Are your people okay?”
“A few got hurt, but yeah, I think everyone’s still with us. Enemy didn’t do so well, though. I think all of their tanks just flipped over.”
“Okay. Good.” Dash checked the threat indicator. “It’s clear up here, so I’m on my way back down.”
He dove the Archetype back through the ragged clouds. Dust billowed from landslides triggered by the distortion cannon-shot he’d fired; fresh, dark scars in the snow marked places where hillsides had given way and slumped into valleys as falls of debris. He leveled out and looked for new targets but saw Benzel’s people among the buildings, several of which had collapsed. Chunky tanks were scattered among them but, as Benzel had said, most had toppled on their sides when south momentarily became down. One had apparently exploded, leaving a ragged, black crater and smoking wreckage.
“We’ve got prisoners, Dash,” Benzel reported. “Fifteen, including their commander. A total of twenty-six survivors, now, from the original settlement, too.”
“A moment,” Dash said, once more putting the Archetype down, a couple of hundred meters from the now-ruined settlement. He collected his thoughts, feeling his pulse slow by a force of will alone.
This was no place for rage—not now. That could come later. For the moment, he needed to be cold.
Dash let the chill of command take over, just as the Archetype touched down.
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing,” Dash said, looking at the line of prisoners. “Are these guys from Clan Shirna?”
Leira turned her back to the booming wind. As she did, the ground rumbled again under her feet. “That’s what it looks like,” she replied. “We’re not sure if this is just a remnant of them, or if they’ve got other forces elsewhere. Either way, it looks like this was the Verity’s backup, here on Burrow.”
Dash shook his head, wincing as he did; that shrill whine and the concussive pain in his head still hadn’t completely faded. Clan Shirna. Dammit, did any of their enemies ever really go away?
The ground rattled again. “Dash,” Sentinel said over the comm. “The seismic instability in this region is increasing as the rock mass seeks to find a new, structural equilibrium. It is likely that larger earthquakes are imminent.”
“Moreover, I have scanned a large volume of water trapped beneath the nearby glacier, in which the cache of Golden technology, and the Creators’ power core, are embedded,” Tybalt said. “Even a modest shift in the ice flow will likely release it, flooding the excavation and much of this valley.”
Dash put his hands on his hips. “Great. Benzel, what’s up with the Herald? Did I hear something about a battle up in space, too?”
“You did,” Benzel said. Dash turned, because the man’s voice over the comm was merging with his actual voice, and saw him approaching, trudging through the snow. A pair of Gentle Friends followed him, escorting a prisoner. “A Clan Shirna cruiser made a run at the planet. Not sure if they were trying to support their friends here, or try to evacuate them, or if it was just a suicide attack like their fighters. Anyway, she was disabled and boarded.” As he said it, he stopped a few paces away from Dash, gesturing for the prisoner to be brought forward.
“It looks like they might also have retrieved a power core,” Benzel said. “From somewhere, anyway, and had it aboard their ship.” He nodded at the prisoner, who Dash saw sported a bandolier made of what looked like jagged scraps of metal. “She probably knows, but she’s not talking.”
“Not to heretical vermin such as you,” a woman’s voice said, but Dash couldn’t make out any details under her environmental suit—save for her eyes, which glared at him with naked hatred.
Dash just chuckled. “Still on about that holier-than-we-are religious crap, huh? You don’t need to bother, we know that Nathis and his crew were just in it for the goodies the Golden promised them.”
“You’re not fit to speak his name,” the woman hissed.
“Who? Nathis? Hey, I’m the one who killed him, so I think that kind of gives me the right. Especially with your archaic social structure. You’re lucky I didn’t skin him and wear him as a belt.”
The woman lunged at him. Her two guards yanked her back.
“Nathis means something to you,” Leira said. “A lover?”
“No. My father.”
Dash raised his eyebrows at that. Speaking of eyebrows, though—
He grabbed her face mask and yanked it down. The woman winced as the icy air struck her exposed skin.
She was human.
“All due respect, lady, but Nathis wasn’t human, so how—”
“He adopted me,” she said imperiously. “And I am his heir. My name is Sur-Natha.” Her eyes narrowed. “Remember that name well, because it will be on your lips when you die,” she hissed.
Dash sniffed. “I doubt that.” He pointed at the bandolier of metal scrap. “And what’s this supposed to be?”
“Each piece of metal is cut from the hull of an enemy I’ve vanquished. I look forward—”
“To adding ours to the collection, blah, blah,” Dash cut in. “Yeah, I get it.” He looked at Benzel. “Let’s get her, the rest of the prisoners, and the survivors of the settlement into—”
He broke off as a heavy tremor shuddered the ground. Another hillside a klick away slumped into ruin with a rolling crash.
“You don’t do anything halfway, do you, Dash?” Leira said. “Fight a battle, trigger massive earthquakes.”
“Hey, whatever works. Sentinel, Tybalt, how much time do we have to retrieve that stuff from the excavation before that underground lake or whatever it is gives way?”
“I estimate approximately two hours,” Tybalt replied. “With an uncertainty of plus or minus”—he paused, though whether because he was calculating or just for dramatic effect, Dash wasn’t sure— “two hours.”
Dash looked at Leira. “Well, shit. Guess we’d better get busy then and dig that stuff out while these guys get off the planet. I mean, I’d hate to go through all this and then drown.”
Benzel nodded. “Drowning would, indeed, suck.”
Dash watched as water roared out of the former excavation, now a deep notch punched and smashed into the face of the glacier by the two mechs. Despite Tybalt’s protests about inducing further instability, it had been the fastest way to get at the cache of Golden tech. They’d managed to retrieve almost all of it, including the strange power core, before the base of the glacier finally fractured enough to let a small torrent of water come gushing out. In seconds, a small flow emerged, becoming larger as it ate at the ice—and then became a thunderous deluge. They’d hastily lifted the Archetype and Swift from the flood, which was so powerful it was starting to slam boulders into the legs of the two mechs.
The water continued to surge into the valley, filling it
faster than it could empty. Soon, it would wash over the battered settlement; eventually, it would all freeze, entombing it in ice fifty meters or more thick.
Dash watched the torrent a moment longer, then powered the Archetype up to head for orbit and the journey home to the Forge.
Behind him, the clustered buildings of the settlement on Burrow vanished beneath foaming water, wiping away any trace anyone had ever been here.
9
Dash still liked the War Room. The Command Center was amazing—everything a commander could ask for, especially when directing simultaneous, far-flung operations and multiple forces. But the War Room had certain intimacy to it, so he decided to meet Al’Bijea there.
The arrival of the Aquarian leader had been a surprise. His ship, a luxurious cutter named the Twin Tails, dropped out of unSpace without fanfare and requested permission to dock. Dash had been standing in a hot shower, letting the warm water sluice over him as he attempted to take the edge off the bleak, frozen memories of Burrow, and had only reluctantly turned off the spray and got dressed. To anyone who lived and worked in space, a shower that never ran out of hot water was an unheard-of perk. He was lucky to get two minutes of it out of the tiny shower cubicle aboard the Slipwing.
His hair still damp, he ambled into the War Room to find Al’Bijea, a personal assistant to the ring’s governor, and several of his engineers already there. Leira, Harolyn, Benzel, and Wei-Ping sat with them, all of them cutting off whatever conversation they were having as Dash entered.
“Dash,” Al’Bijea said, standing with a near-flawless grin and offering his hand. “It’s very good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Dash replied, taking the proffered hand and shaking it. “Although, I don’t think we were expecting you. Is everything alright?”
Dash braced himself. Leira had already informed him Al’Bijea hadn’t wanted to talk about whatever business brought him to the Forge over a comm; he only wanted to talk in person. He’d added that it was nothing problematic, but that left Dash wondering what could be so important that it brought Al’Bijea himself here.
Al’Bijea laughed. “You’re a terrible negotiator, Dash. I can see on your face that you’re apprehensive about my visit. I could easily turn that to my advantage.”
Dash smiled back. “Yeah, well, the trouble is that I’m used to negotiating with criminals, smugglers, those sorts—not honest people. It throws me off. All that earnestness and—” He waved his hands, helpless in the face of such nobility.
They sat down and Al’Bijea leaned forward. “I’ll get right to the point. We’ve given this careful consideration and have decided that we’re willing to enter into an alliance with you.”
Dash blinked. “Oh. That’s—well, that’s great. Do I sense a but?”
“In a sense. We do have a few stipulations. This would be primarily a military alliance, at least initially. To that end, we are prepared to place ourselves under your nominal command for the purpose of pursuing military objectives. However, we would retain the right to object to certain uses of our forces, at our discretion. Also, in all other non-military respects, we would be partners with you.”
Dash scanned the faces of his colleagues—particularly Harolyn, who he’d named as overseeing their civilian affairs and relationships. None of them seemed to object; Harolyn, in fact, gave a slight shrug, then a nod.
Dash turned back to Al’Bijea. “I think that’s all fine, yeah.”
“We’re really just formalizing the relations we have with you now,” Al’Bijea replied, then gestured at his assistant. “Aliya has already seen to the drafting of the necessary paperwork and will execute it with you as soon as it’s convenient.”
Aliya flashed Dash a charming smile. And, just like the first time he’d seen it, he knew at once that it was absolutely insincere.
“Sounds good,” Dash said, smiling back at her. He had to admit, fake smile notwithstanding, Aliya had a certain appeal.
“So, Al’Bijea,” Leira said, yanking Dash’s attention away from Aliya. “You could have done this over a comm, couldn’t you? Did you really need to come all this way?”
He smiled. “I must admit, I was rather interested in seeing this Forge of yours I’ve heard so much about.” He looked up and around. “It is very impressive.” Now he looked at the three engineers he’d brought with him. “I’m sure my people agree.”
“It’s—yes, impressive,” a woman said. But one of her colleagues just barked a short laugh and shook his head.
“Impressive? It’s stunning. The technology that must have gone into making this—”
“I think that what my people are trying to say is they would like a tour, if that’s possible.”
Dash gave an enthusiastic nod. “Sure, we can do that.”
“First, though, perhaps we should discuss strategy,” Al’Bijea said. “Do you have a star chart handy?”
“Custodian?” Dash said.
The holo image of the star chart appeared, depicting the entirety of the known galactic arm.
Al’Bijea gave an impressed nod, then paused and peered more closely. “This is remarkable. There is information on this chart that we don’t have.” He stood and pointed at a part of the star field. “Like here. We’ve considered doing a cometary survey in this system—except your map shows it as three systems, not one.”
“It is a dispersed trinary star system,” Custodian said. “The three stars in question are affected by each other’s gravitation, but the result is an unstable, temporary grouping that won’t last another five hundred thousand years.”
“Custodian,” Dash said. “Upload all of these data to Al’Bijea’s ship, or wherever he prefers.” He shrugged at the Aquarian leader. “No sense in allies trying to work from different star maps, right?”
He smiled back. “Right indeed. We are most grateful.” He studied the map again. “Can you portray on here where our enemies are active?”
Lines and icons appeared, showing the latest intelligence picture they’d assembled on the Golden and their minions like the Verity. Al’Bijea blinked. “Again, this is remarkable.” His face creased in a frown. “And somewhat frightening. According to this, their activities transect a third of the arm.”
Benzel nodded. “And we’re kicking their asses, but that doesn’t stop their influence from growing.”
“Probably because more and more Golden are waking up, or powering up, or whatever,” Wei-Ping added.
“Plus, we’re not really sure how widespread their allies are,” Leira said. “We’ve already encountered the Bright, the Verity, and Clan Shirna.”
“Plus a human,” Harolyn added. “Don’t forget Temo, the guy who tried to sabotage the Forge by pretending to be a refugee.”
Al’Bijea sat back down. “This paints an even more dire picture than I’d feared.”
Dash leaned forward. “True, we shouldn’t underestimate these guys. But we shouldn’t overestimate them, either. Like Benzel said, we have been kicking their butts. And we’re making progress, powering up the station, the two mechs, we’re building a bunch of new tech—”
Al’Bijea held up a hand. “Don’t worry, Dash, we’re not about to back away from this. I’m well aware of the implications of giving your competitors both not enough credit and too much. It is just very—sobering, to see the situation depicted like this.” He stood again then leaned on the table and studied the map. After a moment, he pointed to a broad line traversing roughly parallel to the long axis of the galactic arm, one that intersected some star systems, but missed many others. “What does this line show?”
“That is the central axis of our enemy’s activities,” Custodian said. “Whether it has some significance to the Golden or is simply how their various interests have happened to align, we are not certain.”
“It makes a useful planning thing, though,” Dash said. “Right now, our plan is to move the Forge roughly along this line, pacifying systems along the way, and staking out any for ourselves that
might seem beneficial to us.”
Al’Bijea’s eyebrows raised. “You intend to claim territory?”
Dash leaned back and smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. The Cygnus Realm isn’t recognized by anybody else, isn’t signed up to any of the bazillion treaties that pretend to regulate relations among everyone, so what standing would we have.”
“The question does occur.”
“Of course it does. And the answer is, we’re not sure, over the long run. One option we’re pondering is to keep the Cygnus Realm as a purely space-based enterprise, using the Forge, and things like the Greenbelt out there, to give us living space that we can also move around with us.”
“That, incidentally, is why we’re so keen to have you folks aboard with us,” Harolyn put in. “We might be looking at doing some big engineering projects—bigger than getting the Greenbelt back here, which your people did with incredible professionalism.”
“Having access to the comet-harvesting systems on that ship was ample incentive to be as professional as possible,” Al’Bijea replied.
One of his engineers leaned forward. “We’re going to be learning lessons from what those Verity did for years. They might be murderous, inhuman assholes, but they aren’t dumb.”
“No, they aren’t,” Dash agreed, the eagerness on the man’s face making him smile. Harolyn’s easy adoption of a smooth diplomatic tone made him smile even more. She’d been a good choice for the Cygnus ambassador.
“That raises a point of concern, however,” Al’Bijea said. “We realize that the Verity, and their Golden masters, are advanced far beyond us in terms of technology, and that includes military tech. We have relatively few ships, and they are not heavily armed. You’ve upgraded the Comet, but her master tells me that even with the new systems, she still is not suited for sustained combat with our enemies.”
