He shrugged. “It was an irresistible adventure. You can see that, can’t you? Also, you wouldn’t have authorized the mission if I’d brought it to you.”
“Eren—”
“We’re anarchists, Xanne. What do you expect?”
“Being an anarch means you focus your rebellion into targeted, useful strikes against the Directorate.”
He smirked. “Well, this was definitely a strike against the Directorate.”
She glared at him. “You’re not funny, Eren—not today. We’ll need to evaluate what this means for us and for our operatives in the field.”
“We need to ‘evaluate’? No, what we need to do is rescue them.”
“These mysterious aliens you’ve apparently been traipsing around with? They are almost certainly long dead.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They’ll be interrogated extensively first. Eventually they’ll be handed over to Erevna scientists. They succeeded in breaking into Machim Central Command and hacking its most secure data server, and no one will know what they are or where they came from. Praesidis won’t be able to resist the mystery, and the Directorate won’t let the ignominy stand.”
“Do you know what they are?”
He heard the curiosity in her voice; he may have hooked her. “They’re…us. Only they’re not from any Dynasty or any place we’ve colonized. They’ve never existed here, in our civilization, yet they’re far more advanced than most Accepted Species are when the Directorate finds them.”
He squared his shoulders. He was loyal to the anarchs, but they did not own him or his free will. “And they are without a doubt on our side, so I’m going to go break them out of whichever Praesidis interrogation facility they’re being held in. Now, I’d truly appreciate any help you can offer, but whether you give it or not, I’m doing this.”
She stared up at the ceiling for several seconds. “How will you figure out where they’re being held?”
Yep, he had her. Kyvern or not, she was an anarch for a reason. “The Kat will know, and I can contact it. Failing that, the SAI ought to have been able to escape, and I can also reach her—it.”
“A rebel Kat…unbelievable. I’m not sure I’m prepared to consider the implications of the SAI.”
“If Mnemosyne is to be believed, all the Kats are rebels.”
“And the fact we missed it should trouble us.” She nodded and transitioned smoothly back into management mode. “All right. I’m assigning you a new ship, but give me an hour before you run off on a tear of righteous stupidity. By then I’ll be able to tell you if I can give you anything more.”
As soon as Eren departed, Xanne activated a secure communications channel. “Sator Nisi, I request an audience. Something unusual has happened.”
The anarch resistance honored its moniker as much as was practical for an organization, which meant it fostered enough chaos to make her uncomfortable.
As a group, they had no formal title. Their structure was horizontal, with only the most minimal oversight in place as was required to enable work to be done, information to be both protected and shared, and members to be cared for. The agents were not slaves to a Primor or indentured servants to a bureaucracy. The relationship forged between the loosely organized anarch governance and its front-line participants was designed to be a mutually beneficial one in the service of a common goal.
But the anarchs did have a leader. Though he remained in the shadows whenever possible and claimed no fame or accolades, none who knew him questioned his status as guide, mentor and principal. He commanded their respect and their loyalty, not because he demanded it but because he earned it.
His response arrived swiftly. “Of course, Xanne. I’m free for the next hour, so arrive whenever you are ready.”
She left her office for an area of the Post few were aware existed, including Eren. After clearing several layers of security—unusual here but necessary in this case—she stepped up to and through the teleportation aperture. More technology they were forbidden to possess, as the apparatuses were strictly reserved for the Primors and their closest aides.
The atoms comprising her body reappeared somewhere else. She recognized the room, for it was always the same, but not the location, for it constantly changed.
ANARCH POST SATUS
LOCATION UNKNOWN
Danilo Nisi sensed Xanne’s presence from the excitation of the teleportation particles even before the air shifted to make room for her body. He heard her footfall as she stepped off the pad and altered her posture in preparation for the audience.
The heightened senses were neither a blessing nor a curse, and rarely of practical use beyond allowing him to judge the disposition of people using more nuanced tools than they perceived. Merely an unintended product of a very unique genome.
“Sator Nisi, how fare you?”
He turned from the window, one of several spanning the circular room, and the cloudless night sky outside. “Well, Xanne ela-Kyvern. How fare you?”
“Troubled, sir.” She approached and handed him a Reor slab without fanfare. One of the many reasons Xanne was an excellent supervisor was the way she accommodated the varied idiosyncrasies of all those she worked with. In his case, she knew he preferred to evaluate raw data himself, prior to hearing the presenter’s spin on it.
He rotated the slab slowly between his fingers, reading it, absorbing the contents as they transferred into his mind.
When he was done, he handed it back to her then returned to gaze out the window for a full minute before speaking. “One of these ‘Humans’ wielded diati? The agent is certain of it?”
“Yes, Sator. The man’s command of it was effectual enough to disable two guards, a Watchman and several Vigil units multiple times, including blocking their path using a diati wall, at least for a short period of time.”
“Yet he is not Praesidis?”
“He is not even Anaden…not exactly. I realize there are numerous ways to disguise one’s nature, but the agent spent many hours in the company of these individuals and is quite convinced on both counts.”
“Good agent?”
“Reckless. Young, with repressed shame issues that lead to periodic restiveness. A suicidal flair for the dramatic.” She lifted her shoulders a touch. “Idoni. But like all of us, he strives to live beyond his genetic limitations. He is exceptionally clever, resourceful and brave, as well as far more observant than he lets on. So, yes. Very good.”
Danilo walked the expansive room twice. He should not abandon reason in favor of rash conclusions born of fanciful dreams.
Finally he paused to place a hand atop one of the chaise lounges spaced appropriately around the room. “We must proceed with caution. We cannot throw our full resources into a rescue—not at a Praesidis stronghold and not for two individuals we know nothing about. We won’t risk exposing ourselves based on so little information. They could be spies sent to infiltrate us, or they could serve a secret agenda at odds with our own.
“At a minimum, they are not the first newcomers to arrive proclaiming their intention to end the Directorate’s reign, and all who came before them now lie forgotten in the graveyard of history.”
He smiled to counter Xanne’s darkening expression. “But we also cannot be so fearful we turn away from the unknown simply because the variables have yet to fully reveal themselves and the outcome is not predetermined. Down that path lies Primors and integrals and a delusional vision of perfect order and control.”
Hope lit her features, a sight which both warmed his heart and burdened his soul. Neither were new experiences.
“See to it our agent has the tools he needs to gain entry to the facility where they’re being held. Give him perimeter support, but not an army. He doesn’t need one in any case, as stealth provides the sole chance for success in this situation.
“Also, ensure he has a new body waiting on him after the mission, should he need or be forced to sacrifice his current one…” his brow creased as the file o
n Eren asi-Idoni filtered through his consciousness “…which he seems to have an impressive habit of doing. In any event, I’ll authorize what you need to accelerate the process.”
He walked over to the wide cabinet behind his desk and retrieved a small canister. The truth was Xanne had no way to give the agent a means to access a Praesidis interrogation facility. In addition to varied other security measures, each such facility was protected by an impassable sphere of diati. Only one thing in the universe could penetrate such a barrier, and that was diati itself.
So he concentrated on the open top of the canister until it was filled, then capped it and brought it to her. “Also, give him this, along with the instructions for its use I’m sending to you now.”
“Yes, Sator. And if he succeeds in freeing them? How should I advise him regarding their…future? And what of the Katasketousya who accompanied them?”
He patted her arm in reassurance. “One step at a time, Xanne. Let us focus on dousing the fire currently consuming lives first.”
“I understand. I’ll keep you updated on developments. Nos libertatem somnia.”
“Nos libertatem somnia, my friend.”
She retreated to the aperture and vanished, leaving him alone with a turmoil of thoughts at once inspirited and disquieting.
He had been here before, too many times to allow optimism to take hold. Yet a very long time ago his mother had taught him to never lose faith in the promise each tomorrow held, and so he would not.
A second moon rose to brighten the stygian sky, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether the dawn might bring something new.
AURORA
40
PRESIDIO
GCDA HEADQUARTERS
* * *
MIRIAM BLINKED IN CONFUSION at the name of the visitor requesting entry down in the lobby, certain her weary eyes had led her to misread it.
When the letters didn’t resolve to a more logical name, she checked the lobby security cam. Was someone trying to gain access to her by impersonating a family member?
Pasha Solovy stood in the lobby atrium, shifting his weight uneasily from one leg to the other in front of the security desk. To her further shock, he wore nice slacks, a knitted sweater and a faded wool fedora—attire usually reserved for funerals and weddings.
Speaking of the latter, Alex and Caleb’s wedding was the last time she’d seen her father-in-law, almost ten months ago. Their interaction that day consisted entirely of a few awkwardly delivered pleasantries over finger food; in her defense, it had been a busy, even overwhelming affair.
What in all the worlds could he be doing here? He rarely left the vicinity of his home and work in St. Petersburg and yet more rarely ventured off-planet.
She drew in a deep breath and readied a welcoming if formal demeanor while steeling herself for the inevitable unpleasantness to come. On the exhale she authorized his entry and directed an officer to escort him up to her office.
When he arrived, she met him at the door and clasped his hands in hers briefly—it was as affectionate as they had ever been—then gestured to the table by one of the windows. “Pasha, this is a surprise. Please, have a seat. Can I offer you some tea?”
He cleared his throat and peered skeptically around the office before going over to the table. “Water’s fine.”
She retrieved the water for him and tea for her, then joined him. “How are you?”
“Same. Work’s picked up lately—not news to you, I suspect. Unpleasant mess you had there with the Prime Minister.”
She gave him a closed-mouth smile that wasn’t. “The former Prime Minister, I assume you mean. Her crimes were exposed and justice was served, which was all I sought to do.”
He raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor passing judgment, and sipped on his water. “How is Alex? I hear these outlandish, contradictory things being said about her in the media now and again. Can’t make sense of them.”
How was Alex…a real answer would take the rest of the day, wouldn’t it? “She’s well, but away at present. She and Caleb are investigating a…recent astronomical discovery. In deep space. When I hear from her next time, I’ll tell her you asked after her.”
“Hmm.” He nodded and again glanced around the office. “Loony bezumnaya girl, but David would be proud of her.”
“I know.”
His gaze settled on his glass. “He’d be proud of you, too, I think.”
Were her weary ears malfunctioning now as well? Had he just said something nice about her? Perhaps not—perhaps instead he was saying something critical about his son.
“I hope so. I can’t say for certain if he would have made the same choices as I have, but I want to believe he’d understand why I made them.”
“All these political spats and wars and aliens and Prevos and whatnot? It’s nothing but noise to me—people trying to fill the silence. I can’t be bothered to worry about it. Gives me a headache. Sofia would’ve understood it, though. You’re like her in that way.”
David’s mother had died four years after Miriam and David were married. People often said Alex looked like David, but in truth both Alex and David favored Sofia. Tall, dignified and graceful, she’d brought a measure of elegance to what had been a working-class family for generations. She was a good woman who had always been kind to Miriam, and David had suffered when she’d died.
And now Pasha had paid her another compliment, if in the most off-handed way. This conversation was becoming quite odd.
She tried to remove any hard edge from her voice. “It’s not easy, and I often wish I could ignore all the noise and simply live my life. But it is, at times unfortunately, my job to deal with such issues.”
She paused, then decided to risk pushing—it wasn’t as if their relationship could deteriorate much further from its current state.
“Pasha, why are you here? It is good to see you, but it’s also bordering on unprecedented. Do you need help of some kind? Are you ill? If you’re reticent to ask for my help, don’t be. I have a number of resources at my disposal, and I’ll be more than happy to—”
“No, I’m not sick. To be honest, it’s starting to feel like I’m cursed to outlive my time. The world’s changing too fast these days. Thought I was seeing the end of everything last year, but we’re all still here, me included.”
His foot tapped on the floor with nervous energy. “I hear reports here and there of some new threat on the horizon. We managed to stumble our way into surviving the previous one, but as I see it we’re pushing our vezeniye now. So in case things do go bad, I realized there were a few things I needed to say.”
He stood, removed the fedora to hold it awkwardly at his waist, and walked the room. “I haven’t had the most charitable opinion of you over the years. My reasons are my own. But you made David happy, and I suppose that’s what really mattered.
“And now…it seems to me you’ve done a lot of good this last bit. Good for the world, for more people than not. When the Prime Minister came after you, I didn’t expect you to have the fortitude to stand up to her like you did. I was wrong. Maybe I’ve always been wrong, but I’m too old to second-guess myself now.
“Anyway, that’s what I wanted to say. And, you know, good luck. With whatever this fancy space station and all those ships outside are meant for.”
She leaned forward and clasped her hands atop her knees. “Thank you, Pasha. It means a great deal to me that you feel this way, and that you came here to say it face-to-face. I…thank you.”
“No need. I should get going. Early shift in the morning.” He turned toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, there was one other thing. A couple of days ago two government stiff-shirts showed up at my door asking for blood and tissue samples. They mumbled something about updating records for a new database.
“That’s government for you—rolling out a new system every year, and every year everything’s got to be done all over again because they broke the old stuff. Still, it was a little strange. Do you know
anything about it?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. I’m not involved in those types of initiatives any longer, so I wouldn’t be informed. Do you want me to look into it for you and make sure nothing is amiss?”
“Nyet. They took their litre of flesh and went on their way. No harm done.” He returned the fedora to its rightful place and adjusted the brim. “So have a good evening.”
His olive branch hadn’t begun to bring them into hugging territory, but she did go to him and squeeze his hands with greater warmth this time. “Take care of yourself, Pasha.”
“You’ll be all right, Miri. You were always the strong one. You’ll—”
“I don’t want to be all right—I don’t want to be strong! David, please….”
“Miri, my darling, my world, moya vselennaya, know that I love you with everything that I am. I love you more than all the stars in the heavens, more than—”
Miriam bolted up in the bed mid-gasp, heart pounding into her sternum and skin drenched in sweat. In the space the transition from sleep to wakefulness occupied, it was all real again, and white-hot anguish flooded through her.
She buried her face in her hands and sank back on the pillow. It must have been at least a year since she’d had the…it wasn’t a nightmare, but instead a memory that had been a nightmare to live through, and remained a spectre to haunt her dreams still.
Her pulse gradually calmed, and the anguish faded to melancholy as reality took hold. She stared at the ceiling.
Pasha’s visit was probably to blame. Even thinking of her father-in-law brought forth a deluge of memories, each of them woven through with the imprint of David’s ghost. It was no wonder after a consequential encounter her subconscious would go straight to the most painful of them.
Experience had taught her the only way to get past the lingering malaise was to concentrate on other matters, overtaxing her mind until it had no choice but to return the memory to the archives.
Relativity: Aurora Resonant Book One (Aurora Rhapsody 7) Page 27
