Requiem_Aurora Resonant_Book Three

by G. S. Jennsen

  The Marines take the refugees from the lab to Post Alpha, where Eren talks to Nisi about the need to stop playing by the Directorate’s rules. He asserts its time for the anarchs to come out of the shadows and publicly stand up for those oppressed. He proposes a plan for Nisi to address everyone in the empire, to make their case to the public.

  At an AEGIS Council meeting, Mesme reveals the destruction of a Machim fleet through the false portal. Miriam authorizes the use of the Caeles Prism in combat missions. Alex comes up with an idea for the first mission to use it, one targeting the Dyson rings powering Machimis.

  Alex and Caleb test the Caeles Prism for intergalactic traversal by traversing a wormhole to the Maffei I galaxy. While the wormhole is open, Alex sees luminescent strings running in all directions, but all running through the Reor slab she’s holding in her hand. Valkyrie’s analysis of the luminescent strings reveals that they are waves carrying data stored on other Reor slabs. Alex believes the Reor possess a universal decryption key so that they can read the data. Caleb suggests the key might be embedded in the slab the Reor gifted to her.

  They visit the Galenai’s homeworld, and Alex is able to show Caleb and Valkyrie the Galenai’s underwater city. Shortly thereafter, Alex, Caleb and Eren return to Maffei I armed with antimatter explosives. They mine the newly constructed gateway and destroy it to protect the Galenai from discovery by Directorate.

  The AEGIS fleet uses the Caeles Prism to travel directly to the sun in the Machimis stellar system, where they destroy the Dyson rings collecting power for Machimis. Power transmission to Machimis ceases, and the lights begin to go out on the Machim homeworld.

  At the same time as the Machimis mission, Eren leads an anarch mission to take over communications systems around the empire. Mesme transports Eren to a secret resistance hideout, Chalmun Station, where he makes a grand speech about the anarchs and their intentions to take the Directorate down, then introduces Nisi.

  Nisi gives an impassioned, emotional speech about the right of everyone to be free of the Directorate’s oppressive hand, the arrival of the humans and their ability to defeat the Directorate, and his intentions to pursue regenesis for all species if the anarchs win.

  The Praesidis Primor watches Nisi’s broadcast in horror, for though the man’s face has changed, he recognizes Nisi as his father. A flashback follows of the distant past. Renato Praesidis argues with his father, Corradeo (original wielder of the diati and head of the Praesidis Dynasty). He attacks Corradeo, stealing his diati then throwing his father out a window into an icy crevasse. Then Renato takes on his father’s identity and claims the Praesidis throne.

  The diati the Primor gifted Nyx with shows her the same memory while she sleeps. When she sees Nisi’s broadcast, though she doesn’t recognize Nisi, she feels drawn to him. On the Siyane, the diati shows Caleb the same memory as well. He realizes Nisi is Corradeo from the memory.

  Caleb goes to see Nisi, confronting him with his newfound knowledge about the man’s past. Nisi reveals that the little diati remaining within him spirited him away and nursed him back to health. In the centuries that followed, he wandered the stars, then eventually joined those rebelling against the Directorate.

  Malcolm returns to Post Epsilon and seeks Mia out. He bares his soul, apologizing for devaluing her and all she’s done to survive and professing his love for her again. She yells at him, then kisses him.

  On the Stalwart II, Alex readies a surprise for her mother. Caleb clears the bridge for privacy, and Alex asks her mother to trust her. Then David Solovy walks in, flesh and blood and alive.

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  AS YOU (NEVER) WERE

  PART II

  ANGELS & MONSTERS

  PART III

  THE HARSH LIGHT OF NIGHT

  PART IV

  SWORDS & SHIELDS

  PART V

  SOULS AFIRE

  PART VI

  WEIGHT OF THE WORLDS

  PART VII

  STARDUST

  CODA

  EVER ON & ON

  REQUIEM

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  AMARANTHE

  YEAR 6143

  12TH EPOCH PROPER

  PART I:

  AS YOU (NEVER) WERE

  “We have it in our power to begin the world over again.”

  — Thomas Paine

  1

  AFS STALWART II

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 17

  AMARANTHE

  * * *

  “THE UNIVERSE MAY BE looking out for you and your cause, but if you truly expect to win you really ought to pitch in and give it a boost.”

  Miriam stopped mid-motion, leaving two of the four planned report screens unopened. “You’re questioning my war strategy?”

  “No. The destruction of the Machimis Dyson rings was ballsy, and it was only the latest in a series of savvy moves. But if you want to take full advantage of the gains it bought you by keeping the Machim off-balance and reeling, you need to be using every tool at your disposal right now, often and simultaneously. The most brilliant strategy is worthless without tactical maneuvers implementing it at all times, and you can’t win a war when half your fleet sits idling in the void.”

  Calmly, as if this were a regular and ordinary conversation, Miriam took a sip of her tea and considered her response.

  First thing this morning, he—David—had asked her to brief him on the current state of the war. He’d said he wanted to better understand what she faced. The events of the day before—the military events—made it an appropriate time to review where the venture stood in any case, so she’d agreed, which was how the two of them found themselves in the main conference room on the Stalwart II. Alone, which was about to be a good thing.

  Miriam rested her forehead on the mirror of the lavatory in her quarters, her jaw clenched tight to render her sobs all but silent. Her shoulders racked nonetheless, thudding against the mirror in sync with her ragged breaths.

  Were they sobs of rapturous joy—a bubbling up of elation at lost love impossibly found again?

  Or were they sobs of long-suppressed sorrow forcing their way into the world only now, once their cause had been erased—a defiant proclamation that the sorrow could not be erased from her soul?

  Or of terror at what the next minutes and hours may hold—a herald for emotions over which she feared she would not be able to keep control?

  After setting the cup of tea down on the table beside her, she resumed opening the remainder of the briefing materials. “The greatest advantage the Machim enjoy, and it is a significant one, is numbers. We are vastly outnumbered in every engagement. If I send even smaller formations to engage the enemy, they will begin to lose.”

  David moved along the length of the table with the intensity of a man who’d been at rest for too long. “But you’ve forced them to spread their ships thin as well, yes? They’re now having to guard hundreds, possibly thousands of gateways and fabrication facilities, stations and planets. You’ve made it difficult if not impossible for them to send their full strength against you in any one clash. It’s an excellent strategy, but now you’ve got to exploit it.”

  “I assure you, I intend to push our enemy until it breaks. But I won’t act blindly or recklessly.”

  She forced the sobs to a premature halt with a deep, portentous breath. She must pull herself together. Then she must walk out of the lavatory and face a future she’d never expected. She must face this man and all he represented.

  Didn’t she want to face him? To touch him, feel him? Wasn’t this the realization of the one dream she’d never allowed herself to dream?

  Of course it was. She dared to hope it was. But as she hadn’t allowed herself to dream it, so she hadn’t allowed herself to prepare for it.

  Now she stood here on the precipice of she knew not what with no plan,
no war map, no strategy, no safety net, no contingencies to fall back on. No idea what might happen next.

  “Certainly not, when you never have. But you’re micromanaging, and it’s in danger of harming your cause.”

  The muscles in her jaw twitched. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve got talented people serving under you. How many admirals are here in Amaranthe? I promise you, they’re capable of leading their own missions. The brigadiers, too.” He smirked. “I’ve even heard tale of the odd commander being trusted to lead missions from time to time. Tiny missions.”

  “And getting themselves killed doing so?”

  His energetic movements halted, and an odd look came over his features. Always so expressive, then and now. “I didn’t start out leading that mission—I was merely the last man standing. Until I wasn’t.”

  His chin dropped to his chest. “The Alliance screwed itself over in the 1st Crux War by sending the minimum required forces to any encounter while leaving a million ships to guard Earth. They played it too safe, and it became the most dangerous strategy they could follow. But this isn’t that war and you shouldn’t fear making their mistakes. You’re pushing the enemy hard, getting in their personal space, taking them by surprise and knocking them off-kilter. All I’m saying is, don’t pull up a fraction short of the goal line. If you want to win, you’ve got to see it all the way through.”

  “I fully intend to see it through. But I am outnumbered ten to one. I’m sorry if you don’t grasp the import of those numbers, but I have to recognize reality and exercise the discretion it demands.”

  She drew back from the mirror to stand up straight, then quickly splashed water on her face and wiped it dry. When she lowered the towel and dropped it on the counter, the mirror revealed a hard, closed visage in its reflection.

  Was this truly how she wanted to meet the moments to come? Her emotional armor had long served as her ally, but now she had to let it go. Armor had no role to play tonight. So she closed her eyes, exhaled and willed her countenance to soften.

  She scrutinized the mirror’s contents again. Better, but the Commandant still reflected back at her. Her hands paused half-raised in the air—then she brought them the rest of the way up and undid the knot holding her hair primly in place.

  Burgundy locks tumbled free to her shoulders. She ran fingers through them until they formed gentle waves to frame her face and fall across her collarbone. Next, she removed her uniform jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. The plain navy shirt she wore underneath bore wrinkles from the day’s activities, but it would have to suffice.

  She swallowed hard, notched her chin up and opened the door.

  “Okay. You don’t have enough ships. Reality accepted. What about the Kats? Have you used their armada since the initial battle at their Provision Network Gateway?”

  She pretended to study the information displayed on one of the screens; it had updated overnight and should now hold new insights. “Circumstances haven’t presented themselves where it was appropriate for me to do so.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the Kats make everyone uncomfortable. Eighty-three percent of the servicepeople here saw action in the Metigen War. They watched identical vessels cut down civilians in the streets on their way to destroying entire colonies, and they continue to have nightmares from it.”

  “But the Kats are our allies now and—”

  She whirled on him as frustration finally boiled over. “You weren’t there.”

  He countered her frustration with vexation. “I’ve seen the horrors of war.”

  “Not these horrors. I’m telling you, it’s a problem.”

  He rubbed at his jaw. “All right…do you believe the Kats will betray you?”

  “No. This was their fight long before it was ours.”

  “Then send them on missions alone. They nearly wiped out the entire military strength of humanity, so I suspect they can hold their own in an engagement against a smattering of Machim forces. Send them off to do righteous work in service of the cause out of sight of your crews.”

  “The Kats are the fastidious sort, which complements their staggering arrogance. Would you care to explain their role to them and issue them their orders?”

  He sat perched on the foot of the bed, directly across from the lavatory door and from her. He’d been fidgeting when she walked out, though he’d hurriedly squelched it. Still, his wasn’t a relaxed pose; could he be as nervous as she?

  “By the heavens, you are a beautiful woman.”

  Her heart trembled unbidden. “Flattery is not the critical path forward.”

  “I know. But I can’t help it if you take my breath away.”

  “That’s—”

  “More flattery, yes. Deflect all you like. It doesn’t alter what I see. Feel. Believe.”

  In a few short seconds, with a scant few words, he had utterly disarmed her then swept aside her defenses. Only one person had ever been capable of stripping her naked in such an adroit manner.

  He held up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. “You win. I apologize—I’m overstepping, badly. I was good in a firefight, but I’ve never had to command over 60,000 ships or direct an entire war. I know the big-picture view looks a lot different from the one in the trenches, and you’ve done a magnificent job here. You have.”

  He gave her a wry grimace. “I want so badly to help you—with everything. I want to do…everything. Right now. To prove my worth, to make up for lost time, to satisfy a long list of reasons that are so obvious they’re cliché.”

  She stared at him until his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

  “What is it? Is my face melting? Because I know where to get a refund….”

  “I think I’d forgotten this about you. How impatient you could be, how driven to action. How you’d always be rushing off headlong toward a goal while everyone else was struggling to clear the starting gate.”

  “Well, not always.”

  She allowed herself to laugh. “Of course not. You’re correct, however. The view from the top is different, and there are factors you haven’t taken into account. But, since you bring it up, it so happens that I have already tasked the Kats with their own missions. As of four hours ago, their superdreadnoughts are guarding several civilian facilities we believe the Directorate is likely to target and the anarchs have a vested interest in seeing protected. In addition, segments of our fleet will embark on concurrent missions as soon as additional Caeles Prisms are assembled, which is happening today.”

  His expression flickered, exposing a hint of unease. “You let me rant—you let me challenge your decisions—when you could have told me your plans as soon as the topic arose. Why?” His posture wilted. “It was a test. And I failed it, didn’t I?”

  “No…I don’t know. It wasn’t that kind of test. I’m just trying to figure out….”

  “What to do with me?”

  “I suspect you’ll do with yourself whatever you damn well please. I guess I’m trying to figure out how much trouble that’s going to cause for me.”

  He gazed at her without a trace of acrimony. “I do remember this about you. Honesty. Brutal, stark honesty, unvarnished by niceties. I acknowledge your concerns, but I don’t want to cause you trouble. I want to help you.”

  “I believe you do. So…I’ll simply ask you to pause periodically and give thought to whether our opinions as to the type of help I need coincide.” She flashed him a quick smile. “You’ve raised several worthwhile points deserving of serious consideration. It’s possible I’ve gotten spooked by some of the losses we’ve taken, and I can’t let caution morph into paralysis. I don’t act unilaterally unless urgency demands it, but I’ll bring up your ideas at the AEGIS Council meeting later this morning.”

  His eyes widened. “Gavno. There are other people involved in fighting this war—I positively forgot about them. What are we going to tell everyone?”

  Was he teasing her? His delivery was as f
lawless as it had ever been. She studied him, noting how the playful glint in his eyes contrasted with the earnest set of his brow, and decided he was being flippant, but it hid genuine trepidation. If only his irreverent humor could see them through the Council meeting unscathed.

  She reached out and covered his hand with hers, touching him for the first time since they’d entered the conference room. Warmth rushed from his skin straight to her chest, and she wondered when she might stop being surprised he was real. “The only thing we can tell them and the one thing they deserve: the truth.”

  She crossed the remaining space between them in three rapid steps and knelt in front of him. His hands were draped atop his knees, and her left hand moved to hesitate uncertainly above his right. She willed it lower until it covered his hand, and the feel of his bare skin beneath hers shook her to the core.

  His mouth opened to speak more flattery and shatter her last threads of composure, but she held up her other hand to cut him off. “I need to tell you something.”

  Yet her lips pursed in a panicked last-ditch attempt to keep the words unspoken; she forced them apart. “One of the last things you ever said to me was that I was the strong one in our relationship—and you were right. So when you died, I did what you had asked me to do—I bucked up, stiffened my spine and soldiered on alone. For twenty-five years I was strong. I have been so damn strong for so damn long.

  “Now, tonight, I don’t want to be strong any longer. Tonight, you’re here, and I think I…I think I don’t really care if you’re truly David or merely a very, very good copy. Because you’re here, and tonight I am not strong enough to question the rightness of it.”