by Simon Kewin
“I had no idea. Emchek sent me to our chambers to fetch some papers that I could not locate. He absolutely insisted I find them; I remember being annoyed by it. I didn't see Palianche again.”
“They knew you might intervene in their murder/suicide plot, or at least reveal the truth about it, and obviously either Arianas or Sejerne had to be implicated. Palianche and Emchek didn't actually care which world was blamed; either could be used as a pretext for war.”
Sorabai considered for a moment. “None of this is incontrovertible. Evening Star Rising have the numbers to stop any legal assay on Emchek's brain.”
“But Emperor Avigand sits above the divide and in exceptional circumstances can override your parliament. Take the evidence to him, persuade him that the honour of Gogon has been stained. Paint it as a cowardly act; the murder of a war-hero by someone from your own side. If it requires it, exclude all mention of Palianche's complicity, and pin it all on Emchek. His actions were those of a coward, not a noble warrior. There has to be a chance Emperor Avigand will act.”
Sorabai was caught, thrown into doubt. She watched as he came to his decision. His body seemed to unwind a little, his head held taller, as he replied. “I will do so. Emperor Avigand must know what has happened. It may or may not succeed, but we must take the chance.”
When it was done, Coronade spoke into her mind. “Remarkable. It may work. Strange that so much can hinge on a tenuous notion like honour.”
“What likelihood do you project for our success?” she asked.
“Forty-nine percent.”
As high as that? She'd take it.
Eight
Magdi stood atop the eastern tower, the same spot she'd visited two months previously to overlook the city. Once again, she breathed deeply. Familiar sea-scents of rotting kelp mingled with the sweeter aromas of the flower jungles in her olfactory slits. Against the odds, she'd done it. Found the murderer, persuaded all three parties back to the negotiating table, then persuaded them to sign the peace accord. The tipping balance of power on Gogon, the ascent of White Peak over Evening Star Rising as a direct result of Emchek's actions, had made all the difference. The reaming of the ex-advisor's mind had proved everything.
She could see no flaws in the plan she'd created. She took a private satisfaction in the knowledge that, after weeks of painstaking negotiation, Delegate Sorabai, Ambassador Vol Velle and Fleet-General Pannax Ro had signed a treaty that was almost identical to the one that she, Magdi, had originally drafted.
The disputed world was to remain inviolate, the sacred realm of the Sejerne, and both Gogon and Arianas would respect the planet's sanctity in perpetuity.
Arianas was to be provided with a plentiful supply of the radioactive materials it required from an extra-system world: a planetary body in an uninhabited system had been identified and handed over to Aranian control. The Aranians were free to exploit or populate the world as they saw fit. The Nexus would assist in setting up the required metaspace supply chain.
Gogon was also granted access to an untouched planetary system, one lying far from any other culture and certainly a long way from the new Aranian world. Gogoni expansionist impulses could be safely deployed within that system or others nearby. There were many, many worlds available for colonization.
Finally, a Nexus-controlled ship, a Pulsar-class Dreadnought, would patrol the system, to ensure that all parties kept their word. The Nexus had few military vessels at its disposal, but one would be acquired and deployed to the system.
In the end, the dreadnought had been the main sticking point in the debate, especially for Gogon and Arianas. She'd even had to resort to using the phantom threat of the Magellanic Cloud – of which there was still no sign – to cajole the three worlds into accepting that their system would be policed by an outside force. Magdi had suggested, without specifically saying so, that there were plans to station such a ship in every inhabited system, to protect against the supposed danger. She hinted that Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas had been given special treatment, moved to the top of the list because of the delicacy of the peace talks.
In time, when the threat failed to materialize, and dreadnoughts did not appear in every system, there would need to be some careful handling of the situation. Hopefully, by then, the new arrangements would be settled, with everyone seeing the benefits.
The delegations were now all leaving Coronade, returning to their respective worlds to begin building their new realities. She'd shaken the hand of each as they left the Congress Hall.
Sorabai had already grown enough to look down upon her. For once, his emotional state wasn't bedded in fury or resentment. Mainly she got satisfaction.
“Thank you for what you've done,” he said. “Gogon needs to expand, and you've given us a way for that to happen.”
“Will your dominance over Evening Star Rising continue for long?”
His eyes narrowed in a way that suggested he just might be half-smiling. “Wheels turn, and they will rise again. My hope is that, by then, the new reality is so firmly established that they won't be able to dismantle it. No doubt they will find other matters of life-and-death to fight us on. I look forward to it.”
“What became of Emchek?”
“I don't think you'll be seeing him again.”
Vol Velle came next, his smile wide, with no sign of the shadows in his aura. “Thank you for a fascinating two months,” he said. “It has been a rewarding experience.”
He leaned in closer, so that no one could overhear. “You might want to congratulate Ro on keeping her little secret to herself, too. The temptation to reveal the truth of her world's ancient visit to the surface of Amon must have considerable.”
That threw Magdi. “You knew about that?”
“Oh yes. You were aware of the incursion, too?”
“I needed to know the truth. But I don't understand; I assumed you would declare immediate war on Arianas if you found out.”
He shook his head. “We are not so absolutist as you might believe. Our belief in the sanctity of Amon is unquestionable, of course, but that doesn't mean we don't see the wisdom in a degree of … creative spiritual thinking from time to time. Amon is the sacred realm, the home of those who have passed on from this reality. Clearly what happened a thousand years ago was exactly that: two Aranians died and were accepted into Amon's grace. We see no violation there. In fact, once relations between our two worlds are warmer, we will gently tell Arianas that we know, and that they can make heroes out of their two brave adventurers. It will be amusing to watch their reactions.”
He stepped backwards and, with a final nod of his head, walked away.
Finally, Pannax Ro grasped her in another forearm clasp, this time in farewell rather than greeting.
Magdi said, “You are last in line again, I'm afraid.”
Ro bared her teeth. “Sometimes it is best to be at the back. From there you can see what everyone else is doing, while they have no idea about you. Tell me, did you believe I killed him?”
“It was a clear possibility.”
“You were right to think it. In other circumstances, as I told you at the time, I would have done so.”
“You will begin work on the energy halo immediately?”
“Our plans are complete. We will begin work tomorrow.”
“I would like to come and see it when it is finished.”
“You would be welcome,” said Ro. And she, too, walked from the Congress Hall.
Now, two hours later, Magdi watched as the delegations' ships broke orbit. As the vessels manoeuvred, she felt herself finally relaxing. There were no last-minute snags. She felt weary, stretched thin, but satisfied with what she'd achieved. Time to let the tensions in her muscles ebb away. She would stop the Pack Queen hormone boosters, too, let that side of her quiesce so she could take some time away from the negotiating table. Put herself back in touch with the real Magdi.
There were many disputes to resolve across the galaxy, but there were also ma
ny experienced conciliators capable of resolving them. Perhaps it was time to travel the galaxy, visit the wonders she'd heard about from visitors to Coronade. Take a metaspace ship and go. Perhaps even to ask Olorun to come with her. It was very likely he'd say yes.
“You have done well. It is a good settlement, the best that could have been achieved under the difficult circumstances.” Coronade's voice in her mind was like that of an old friend standing beside her.
“Do you think the peace we agreed will hold?” she asked the planetary Mind.
“My projections suggest so, to above a ninety-nine percent probability. Everyone got what they wanted.”
“Apart from Palianche.”
“Perhaps even he did.”
“They didn't need to go to the extremes they did, but there are strong overtones of paranoia in the Gogoni mindset. And they do love a dramatic death.”
“I have been in close conversation with the Minds of Arianas, Sejerne and Gogon, and we are in agreement that, in time, we may see the worlds becoming closely-aligned, even friendly,” said Coronade. “I…”
The flow of words from Coronade stopped. Two, three, four seconds ticked by. A worm of alarm crept through Magdi as the pause lengthened and lengthened.
“What is it?” she said. “What has happened?”
Coronade's words were broken, distracted when it finally replied. “They're here. It seems we have miscalculated. I didn't think it was possible. None of us thought it was possible. I don't…”
“Coronade, who is here?”
“They're here, all around the planet.”
“Who?”
“Vulpis; the missing Magellanic Cloud crew-members. How can that be? Other worlds are seeing them, too. Ships. So many ships…”
Magdi switched to the orbital-sensing overlay in her mind, pulling in images from satellites and orbiting nanosensors to give her a three-dimensional map of local space. The familiar clutter of ambassadorial and tourist ships hung in low orbit, their positions and vectors normally so carefully controlled by the Coronade Mind. Order was now breaking down; many ships were moving, scrambling to break out, their assigned vectors ignored in their haste. Alarm tags in her mind's eye picked out numerous potential collision courses. Some of the ships were powering up beam-weapon arrays, moving onto intercept vectors with targets farther out to engage with some enemy out there or to punch their way through and escape.
Beyond the ships, Coronade's halo of moons and moonlets orbited. The satellites had few defensive systems, just enough firepower to protect ground-stations from rogue asteroid impacts or off-course starships. These weapons, too, were suddenly activating, swivelling to focus on something in yet-higher orbit.
She expanded the ambit of her vision, and there they were. A huge number of ships arranged in a shell, a cage, around Coronade. Where had they all come from? They were like no ships she'd ever seen before, their forms twisted, asymmetrical, but also oddly beautiful. They looked like the buildings of an unfamiliar architecture, or vast sea-shells, or fractal designs, all glowing white in the void of space.
“Where are they from?” she said, peering into the sky with her enhanced vision. “What are they here for?”
The Coronade Mind didn't reply. A wave of ugly emotion crashed through Magdi, sapping her strength, whispering to her of horror and despair. The fear of the Suri population combining as word of what was taking place spread. She heard snatches of words among the emotional backwash: invasion … war … doom.
Her mind spun with nausea. What did it mean? She did what she'd always done, what everyone in the galactic culture did: consult a Mind for clarity and insight.
“Coronade, what do they want? What are we going to do?”
Again, there was no reply. The silence from Coronade was almost the worst part of it. With her eyes shut, she watched as the high sphere of invading ships unleashed coordinated beam-weapon fire. At the same moment, high-g missiles and mass harpoons were launched, every ship in the surrounding halo taking part in the attack, the bombardment clearly carefully orchestrated. Her overlays dutifully began to calculate vectors and projections, modelling likely outcomes of the ongoing broadside. The scale of the attack was hard to take in. She had the sickening sensation of gaping vaults opening beneath her feet. The tower she stood upon swayed, although it might have been her imagination.
Her first rational thought was of the murderer she'd uncovered and the peace treaty she'd brokered between Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas. Whoever this was attacking Coronade, how dare they threaten everything she'd achieved? The unfairness of it filled her with anger. The agreement was so beautiful in its simplicity; she'd been so sure of her skill and cleverness. Now, she saw, it was all for nothing. There would be no peace in that star system or any other. She'd wasted her time, engrossed in matters that, it turned out, didn't matter. Galactic civilisation was under attack, and much that was fine and glorious was about to be lost.
Her second thought was that she was to blame. She'd sworn a lie to Vol Velle, sworn it by the Nexus and by Coronade. And now, suddenly, impossibly, everything was crumbling before her eyes.
The projections in her mind advanced. The ships weren't firing upon the planet or upon the vessels breaking orbit. They were targeting the moonlets, the trajectories of the huge number of salvoes converging on a relatively small number of locations upon the rocky bodies. The outcome was clear. The moons would be shattered into debris and the fragments sent spinning in all directions. She began to see the elegance of the calculations behind the bombardment. Many of the missiles were delayed, arriving late for the initial series of impacts, apparently targeting empty space near the moons. It was all completely deliberate, finely arranged. The second and third and fourth waves would target the fragments of the shattered satellites, anticipating their positions, blasting them onto different vectors, slowing their orbits and forcing them downwards towards the planet. Each splinter of rock would be thousands or hundreds of thousands of tonnes in mass. They would rain down upon Coronade, and no orbital defence system, no fleet of ships could stop them. A storm of meteorites to pound the world, bludgeon it to death.
There could be no doubt. Coronade would be devastated. The explosive shock of all the impacts would be bad enough, killing millions in moments, but that wouldn't be the worst of it. Blast waves would roll around the world. The dust thrown up into the atmosphere would choke off the sunlight, plunge the planet into an environmental winter within which no life could survive.
They, the Nexus, had been so arrogant, so sure of their position and their superiority. Deluded. The details of a single murder, even the details of a peace-settlement between warring worlds: she'd been wasting her time engrossed in her small concerns, blind to the bigger picture. She'd been so utterly, utterly sure that normal life would continue, and that justice and wisdom and careful discussion would be enough to ensure the galaxy continued to be the benign place she was used to. But the danger the Magellanic Cloud implied was not some phantom, it was real. She'd used it as a bargaining technique, never stopping to consider that it might be anything more.
Her moment of triumph was a moment of disaster. She'd been a child playing while the monsters surrounded her home.
“Coronade,” she said one more time. Still there was no reply.
She thought about running, but there was nowhere to run to. A few ships, a very few, had been allowed to escape the planet, run up to their metaspace translations to escape. The rest were being obliterated; the destruction almost gleeful.
A howl of horror engulfed her, the chorus of fear from the population of Suri. It struck her with a physical weight, beating her down to her knees, sickness lurching in her stomach. She tried, desperately, to reach out to Olorun, light-years away on Periarch. There was no response other than a faint hiss of white noise.
After a few minutes lights bloomed in the sky, the first fireballs glowing into life as they entered the planet's atmosphere to hammer the surface.
From the
city below came a flood of fear and panic, followed by the screams.
Dear Reader,
Many thanks for reading Home World.
Following the destruction of Coronade and the Nexus, the galaxy is plunged into darkness, the mysterious starships controlled by Vulpis eliminating any opposition. The normal life that Magdi assumed would simply continue comes to an end as, for three hundred years, the ships impose absolute control upon all inhabited worlds. To find out what happens then, read Dead Star, Volume 1 of the Triple Stars Trilogy. Find out more here.
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Thanks again for reading.
Simon Kewin.
Dead Star
The Triple Stars Volume 1
Available from Smashwords | Find out more
A hidden trail among the stars
The galaxy is in flames under the harsh theocratic rule of Concordance, the culture that once thrived among the stars reduced to scattered fragments. Selene Ada, last survivor of an obliterated planet, joins forces with the mysterious renegade, Ondo Lagan.
Together they attempt to unravel the mystery of Concordance’s rapid rise to galactic domination. They follow a trail of shattered starship hulks and ancient alien ruins, with the ships of the enemy always one step behind.
