by Jamie Sawyer
“He is,” I said.
Feng absorbed the grief in a different way, but looked as devastated. That was the only way to describe what had happened: devastation. We’d lost so many of our number.
“He was a trooper, a friend,” said Feng. “A good man.”
“The right kind of wrong,” Lopez muttered.
“No one could’ve stopped him,” I said. “We couldn’t have done it without him.”
“I’m very sorry for the loss of your trooper, Lieutenant,” Captain Heinrich said. The gunshot wound must’ve stabilised, because he was still ambulatory. “I’m sure Private Novak would be very interested to know what he assisted in achieving. The Black Spiral fleet is in complete disarray. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The Spiral’s ships were drifting through space without purpose. Some had entered terminal decline around Ithaca Prime and were burning up in the upper atmosphere. Others were being chased out-system by the revived Krell war-fleet, which was quickly rallying around the homeworld.
“Whatever P did,” Zero said, “it worked. Look at this.”
Ithaca Prime had been cured. The Harbinger virus had created a band of shadow across the equator and polluted the Great Nest. Those sections had now turned a vibrant green, as though something had turned back the infection. Equilibrium had been restored.
“At a cost,” I said. “P is gone.”
“How did this happen?” Captain Heinrich asked, shaking his head. “Why did this happen?”
“The Aeon were going to purge Ithaca with their starfyre weapon,” I explained. “But that was always the option of last resort. P knew that. So it entered the Deep. It had natural immunity to the virus. Now the Krell have that immunity, too.”
“This was what P was planning,” Zero said, working through that theory, “when it went into hibernation…”
“Maybe even before then,” I said. “It knew. It has probably always known. Which was why Warlord sent Vasnev after it.”
Lopez sighed, her eyes fixed on the tri-D images. “P is one with the Deep now.”
“We couldn’t have done it without the Aeon,” I said. “Their Q-tech did what P was made to do; allowed it to fuse with the Deep.”
The Aeon vault-ships hovered at the edge of the Defiant’s scanner-range. They were pursuing dark shapes that moved out-system. The Shard warships wouldn’t make it beyond the Reef Stars. The machines were licking their wounds, if such a thing were possible.
A chime sounded over the Defiant’s internal address system.
“Lieutenant Jenkins?” came a familiar voice. It was General Draven, from the Command Centre. “Are you still operational?”
“I’m here, sir.”
“I take it what just happened was down to you?”
“No, sir. Pariah takes that credit.”
“We could do with some help in the CIC.”
I swallowed. “What’s left of the Jackals will report for duty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SIGNING OFF
We cleaned up the ship. Maintenance teams recovered the dead. Support drones rescued evacuees who had either abandoned ship, or survived attacks on other Alliance vessels. The Aeon sent another Scuttler swarm to assist with repairs, turning the Defiant from a wreck into a vessel capable of the journey home.
Throughout the Black Spiral’s attack, General Draven had remained in the CIC, locked down with most of his command staff. It wasn’t particularly comforting to know that the senior brass had survived the war, but there you go. This had been history since time immemorial. Secretary Lopez—architect of the war—had disappeared. His ship, the Destiny, had vanished during the closing phase of the conflict. How he had escaped a locked-down CIC still puzzled me, but it would have to wait. We had other things to focus on.
Back in my real skin, I took in the view from the observation deck. Ithaca Prime gazed back at me. This planet was revised, improved. It wasn’t the same world that the Alliance fleet had first encountered, but it was still the Krell’s homeworld. The Harbinger threat was over and Warlord’s plan had failed. The Black Spiral were finished, once and for all eternity. A new dawn commenced across Ithaca, and across the Maelstrom.
Daneb Riggs was finally gone. Warlord and Vasnev too. But Novak was dead. Dr Saito was dead. Most of Phoenix Squad was dead. Commander Dieter was dead. I closed my eyes and let the memories roll over me. For the first time in a very long time, my data-ports didn’t hurt. I neither wanted nor needed to make transition. There was hurt inside me, though. It was the ache in my head, that yawning absence I felt where the mind-link with Pariah had once been. Where Novak once lived.
“Who wants to live for ever?” I whispered. “Good journey, all of you.”
There was a cough behind me. Zero, Feng and Lopez stirred at the elevator entrance.
“Can we join you, ma’am?” Zero asked.
“Be my guests.”
Zero pulled out a bottle of something clear and obviously alcoholic from behind her back.
“What’s this, Zero? Do you have a secret drinking habit or something?”
Feng put an arm around Zero. “It’s news to me.”
“No,” Zero said, shaking her head. “I found this in with Novak’s things. It’s Kronstadt vodka.”
Zero opened the bottle. The scent of over-proof alcohol was almost overwhelming.
“Do you want the first drink?” she invited.
I nodded and knocked back a mouthful. I cringed, and nearly spat it out. I passed the bottle to Feng, who did the same.
Lopez’s face dropped a little. “I’m not sure that I feel much in the mood to celebrate.”
Feng’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “We just saved the entire galaxy from the Shard, Lopez. Didn’t you hear? The Spiral are on the run. The Shard look like they’ve gone, and the Krell infection was cured the moment that P touched down on Ithaca…”
“That’s just it,” Lopez said. “The Shard look like they’re gone. We haven’t investigated every infected star system yet.”
I nodded. “They’re gone, Lopez. I can feel it.”
“Another of your feelings,” Lopez said, a little dismissively. “Can you be sure that everything you’re getting from the Aeon is accurate?”
“I can be sure. I don’t know how, but I can be sure. I don’t feel like celebrating, either, but this is what Novak would’ve wanted.”
“Novak…” Lopez said, her voice barely a whisper. “I can’t believe that he’s gone.”
“He took down Vasnev with him,” said Feng. “He got what he wanted.”
“It’s more than most of us can say about life,” I said.
The scent of vodka filled the chamber, setting off a different kind of yearning in me. It had been a while since I had a damned good drink, but Kronstadt vodka certainly wasn’t it.
“All of this,” Lopez said, drinking the neat vodka, “was my father’s fault.”
I’d told Lopez the truth about Warlord, what he had told me about Secretary Lopez. She carried that weight on her shoulders now, and it was a private burden. Even if Rodrigo Lopez was deprived of his title and stripped of his authority, there was no way that High Command or the Proximan government would ever accept responsibility for the Warlord Project.
“It’ll blow over,” I said. “Your father is in hiding, but someone will find him.”
“I don’t care about him,” Lopez said. Her voice was rock hard with determination, and I didn’t doubt her for a second. “He brought this down on our heads.”
“Don’t think about it. It wasn’t you. You did the Lopez dynasty proud. Sleep at night knowing that.”
“I’d like to know whether he really did endorse the Warlord Project,” Lopez said.
I grimaced at Zero. She swallowed, nervously, shoulders tight.
“I take it that you’ve been inside the mainframe and looked at those files, Z,” I said. “Do I even need to ask?”
Zero gave a slow nod. “What Warlord said: it checks
out. Rodrigo Lopez did endorse the Barain-11 mission, and Clade Cooper’s orders were to bring back a sample of the Harbinger virus.”
Lopez let out a long and painful sigh. “Well, that’s just great…”
“The files are on lockdown, but I’ve copied them already.” My wrist-comp pinged, as Zero sent me a local link to the data. “You should keep a back-up, in case something happens to that data.”
“Thanks,” I said, although in truth that probably made me a target as well.
“The Secretary’s yacht launched when he realised that Warlord would be face to face with you,” Zero said. “I guess he thought the risk of being revealed was too great.”
“Coward,” Lopez spat.
“I’m getting the feeling that you don’t much like your father…” I said.
Lopez pouted back at me. “You’re a genius, ma’am.”
“So,” Feng said, “what are we going to do now?”
“Go back, and probably get chewed up by Command, regardless of what we achieved,” Lopez muttered. “That’s life.”
Ever the inexperienced drinker, Zero knocked back her vodka with a repulsed expression on her face. She quickly passed the bottle to Feng.
“That reminds me,” she said. “I found this, ma’am, in Dr Saito’s locker.”
Zero produced a data-clip from her fatigue pocket. Unmarked, the plastic chip was unexceptional and in pristine condition.
“What is it?” Feng asked, frowning.
I activated the clip with my thumbprint, and it unlocked. Wesley Saito had specifically keyed it for only my use. I swiped the device over my wrist-comp. A message popped up. EYES ONLY: KEIRA JENKINS. Data scrolled across the small screen. I smiled as I read the message.
“Ma’am?” Lopez queried.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
The journey back to Sanctuary Base was short and painless. The Shard Gates were under Alliance control once more, and the remnants of Operation Perfect Storm made use of them. The Aeon followed us part of the way, but departed thereafter. Their drive signatures were virtually untraceable, which was fine by me. Wraith’s presence still lingered in my head for a long time after the fleet left.
Sanctuary Base was in the clutches of a celebration like no other, and Jenkins’ Jackals were greeted as heroes. The other surviving Sim Ops squads received a similar welcome. A tide of news-casters descended on us, eager to hear of war stories and reports of the Aeon. Several news-feeds were broadcasting images that looked nothing like the actual xenos we’d encountered, and depending on which channel you watched, the Aeon were either galactic saviours or an unpredictable new threat. For my part, I thought they were a little of both.
No one reported on Pariah. No one reported on Novak. Those weren’t stories that the Alliance public wanted to hear.
After our official debrief, the Jackals were summoned to attend General Draven’s office.
“It’s over,” said General Draven. “Officially, all hostilities are ceased.”
I stood to attention in front of the general’s desk. Back ram-rod straight, eyes forward. Six days had passed since our return to Sanctuary. The Jackals stood with me.
“I’m glad to hear that, sir.”
A map on General Draven’s smart-desk showed the progress of the cure. From Ithaca Prime, immunity had developed outwards in an ever-expanding spiral. Now, most of the Reef Stars were reporting immune responses.
“If progress continues at this rate,” said Director Mendelsohn, “then we can expect even the border systems to be Harbinger-free within the next few months.” He shrugged. “Perhaps even sooner. How has this happened?”
“I… I think that I can explain, if it helps,” said Zero.
“Go on,” said Draven,
Zero licked her lips. “Well, P—the pariah-form, I mean—was a singular entity developed as a closed-network access point to the Deep.”
“Right,” said Draven. His eyes had already started to glaze over, as though he were even now losing interest in the specifics of what Zero had to say.
“Dr Skinner’s files, from North Star Station, made clear that was Pariah’s purpose. Being an outcast gave it immunity to the Harbinger virus.”
“How does that account for what happened at Ithaca?” Draven interrupted.
“With respect, sir,” Zero said, apologetically, “it doesn’t account for it: it explains it. Pariah’s connection with the Deep was selective. It had developed in a way that no other Krell mind had. It was both part of the Collective consciousness, and separate from it.”
Draven nodded, although he looked unconvinced.
“When Pariah was introduced to the Deep,” Zero continued, “its consciousness—and its immunity—became part of the Collective. The Aeon used their quantum-technology to distribute P’s consciousness across the Deep.”
“It triggered an immune response,” I said, flatly. “And now it’s gone.”
“We already know that the pariah-form has been lost,” Draven said. “The remaining fleet scanned Ithaca Prime before we left.”
“If any of you have information as to the asset’s whereabouts,” Director Mendelsohn started, “then you are under an obligation to inform Sci-Div immediately.”
“Understood, sir,” Lopez said, her voice dripping with accusation. “But P sacrificed itself for our good.”
“The Black Spiral’s network has collapsed,” said General Draven. “When Pariah touched down on Ithaca Prime, their fleet fell apart.”
“Explain how this happened again, please,” said Mendelsohn.
Wearily, I gave my report for the tenth time. “The Aeon projected visions into their minds. Visions of life under the Shard, of their supposed Dominion.”
General Draven leant forward, his elbows on his desk. His brow was creased in either irritation or anger, and he breathed out loudly through his nose.
“And how do you know this, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“The entity codenamed Wraith told me so, sir. Until recently, we were still in communication.”
“I don’t know why you doubt this,” Lopez interjected. “You saw the captives for yourself.”
General Draven glanced down at the images scattered across his desk. Hardcopies of the Black Spiral prisoners, locked in cells aboard the Defiant. Every one of them had given the same report. For all intents, their minds had been destroyed by the Aeon’s contact.
“The Aeon specialise in mind-manipulation,” said Feng, backing me up. “We experienced this on Carcosa.”
“On the subject of the Aeon,” said Mendelsohn, “where have they gone?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure that it’s not the last we’ll hear from them, but I have no information to offer Command on that subject.”
General Draven removed his service cap, and ran a hand through his grey hair. His moustache twitched. “You escaped Alliance custody during a time of war. That can’t go unpunished.”
“We ended a war,” I said. “We lost good people doing it.”
“They did,” said Captain Heinrich. He had been standing at the back of the chamber throughout the debrief, quietly listening. I hadn’t even noticed him. “I’d like to request that the lieutenant be considered for a promotion. The Jackals should be lauded for their efforts during the conflict. They deserve medals, not reprimands.”
“I’d second that,” came another voice. Captain Ving stood beside Heinrich, an unlikely ally to the Jackals. “The Jackals, and Lieutenant Jenkins in particular, showed exceptional valour in the face of impossible odds. These are some of the best troopers I’ve ever served with.”
General Draven rolled the idea around in his head for a moment. “I’m far from convinced, but in light of your contribution to the war effort, and the fact that your actions were instrumental in the cessation of hostilities, I’m going to let this go.”
“I’d like to ask a question myself,” I said.
“Go on.”
“Do you know where Secretary Lopez has gone?”
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General Draven pursed his lips, then said, “The official line is that his ship went missing in action during the final stages of the Ithaca campaign. Destiny is a government asset; it has a fast Q-drive and a full stealth package. The Secretary—although, as you’re also no doubt aware, his title is under review by Congress—simply disappeared.”
That was hardly a satisfactory state of affairs, but pressing General Draven on the issue wasn’t going to get us any new information.
“There will be a full state funeral for those who lost their lives during Operation Perfect Storm,” General Draven said. “Captains Heinrich and Ving have persuaded me that should include Leon Novak.”
Captain Heinrich’s expression was distant and fixed. His arm was still in a sling and he was on the mend, but he didn’t look like the old Heinrich. Like Ithaca itself, he’d been changed by the experience.
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
“He’s entitled to that, according to his status.”
“What do you mean?” Lopez asked. “He was an indentured life prisoner.”
“No,” said Draven, lifting an eyebrow. “He wasn’t. At the end, he was a free man.”
Feng frowned as well now. “I think you have the records mixed up…”
“We don’t,” said Captain Heinrich. He paused, sighed, reading from a service document. “Leon Novak worked off his sentence after Kronstadt.”
“He didn’t tell any of you that?” Draven asked.
“No,” I said. “He didn’t.”
I heard Zero sniffing beside me. “So he could’ve gone free?”
“He could’ve done, but he didn’t want to,” said Captain Heinrich. “He voluntarily signed up for continued service. I think he stayed, in the end, because of the Jackals.”
I nodded, remembering Novak. He’d told me more than once that the Jackals were the only family he had left. In the end, he’d died protecting us, and putting the mission first. Despite the sadness that revelation brought, I couldn’t help smiling to myself. Novak might’ve kept that from us, but he had died free.
“You’re dismissed, Jackals,” said General Draven. “I’d like to see the lieutenant alone.”
