by David Brush
James nodded. “Then we move forward together. How many ships in your fleet survived the ambush?”
“Ten, including our flagship, the White Talon. They all took extensive damage. What of yours?”
“We’re not certain yet. Based on the readings we obtained from our command center, the Eternity attempted to jump in atmosphere. If it survived the maneuver, I intend to summon it back to Dawn. With the equipment onboard the ship, we’ll be able to make meaningful progress against the affliction. We’ve already tried to send a ping from the command center here, but our signals were amplified off world through the orbital platform that was destroyed in the attack. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to relay the signal through the communicators on your flagship. Otherwise, it could take months for the message to reach our ship.”
The sphinx frowned in silence for a moment before nodding his head. “Do it then. I’m certain that your tattered fleet poses little threat to ours.”
James moved into the command tent, leaving his war droids standing at attention out front. Corticon pointed at the glowing blue terminal off to the side. “There’s our uplink to the ship. Make it fast.”
The human approached the console and touched it. Nothing happened.
“I’ll level with you here: I have no clue how to use your equipment.”
The field marshal nodded to one of the younger sphinxes nearby, who approached the display and began swiping his large hands across the screen.
“Tell your AI to send the ping now; we’ll intercept and amplify,” said the technician, turning towards James.
“Haley, you heard the sphinx,” he replied.
“It’s done,” she said. “Doudna has sent the signal. Now let’s just hope that the Eternity is in one piece.”
Dr. Nightrick looked at the coffin with a blank face. The plot they’d dug outside of the Atria Plant was narrow, but deep enough to keep the body buried, at least for a time. The pallbearers stood around the box, waiting for their signal.
“I’m sorry, John. I know what he meant to you,” said General Bismuth, putting his hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Omar Karich was a good man. We’ll make Dante pay dearly for this.”
Nightrick nodded. “I’m just glad we’re able to give him a dignified sendoff. At least the war is over for him now. I think all he ever really wanted was to be left in peace. He was too good to survive in this rat’s nest.”
“That’s true. He was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known, and one of best fighters I’ve ever seen,” said the general with a small grin. “I’ll never forget the way he grabbed that assassin who charged you in Dovaruss. The thug literally got the blade through your shirt by the time Omar pulled the piece of shit aside. He snapped his arm like a dry branch and then stabbed him in the chest with his own blade still wrapped between his fingers.”
Nightrick smiled. “Or what about the time he got grazed when we were ambushed on the highway outside of Alawez? I thought we’d never hear the end of it. I’m half surprised he didn’t bring it up when we met again after all those years.”
Bismuth let out a hearty laugh. “He never let that go, did he?”
Nightrick’s smile faded as he nodded to the pallbearers. They picked the coffin up and lowered it carefully into the hole.
“Rest easy, friend,” said the doctor, scooping up a handful of dirt and throwing it down onto the roof of the coffin.
Bismuth lowered his head for a moment before looking up at the doctor. “I know this might not be the best time, but Dr. Jacob Evans contacted me this morning. They’ve put the patient into cryostasis until you’re able to join them in Dovaruss. He said the damage was simply too severe to treat without the proper resources. They needed more time. According to the doctor, they put him under the moment he died, so he should be well preserved.”
“I’m sorry to hear that he passed,” said Nightrick, the embers in his eyes rekindling. “But this might work out in the long run. His injuries are a perfect launching point for us to finally attempt a revival. Only once we reverse death itself will our species know eternal life.”
Bismuth shifted, trying his best to keep his face neutral. “He was granted a warrior’s death during the battle. Perhaps a different patient would be more appropriate. The trauma he’s experienced…”
“Is why he’s perfect,” said the doctor, watching as the dirt surrounding the grave plot was pushed back into place. “A second chance is something few people ever get. When he rises again, augmented and full of hate, we’ll cut him loose against those who would stand against us. I’ll turn him into the soldier he thought he was before drawing his final breath. Take a good look at the grave there, General. It’ll be the last one we ever dig…”
Nightrick woke up with a start, jumping up out of bed as his door went crashing open.
“It’s time,” said the large guard standing in the doorway. “And if you try anything, I’ve been instructed to break your legs this time. Both of them, at the knee.”
“Relax,” said Nightrick, grabbing a clean white lab coat off of the chair as he walked out into the hall. “I’m done trying.”
The duo walked along in silence, up the staircase, out onto the top floor, into the side room, and up another small, narrow set of steps that wound around in a spiral up to the very peak of the Spire. The doctor moved across the roof, ignoring the other beings who were scurrying around the large antennae-looking device that stretched up into the clouds. He stopped near the edge of the stone floor, staring out across the deep, dark sea that continued to send waves crashing into the jagged coastline below. Beside him, Dr. Karich stood silently.
“Watch your step, Doctor,” came the gravelly voice of the Dread Lord. “I wouldn’t want you to slip again. Dr. Mudaw won’t be able to rescue you this time.”
Nightrick turned back towards the small group assembled on the platform. Dr. Mudaw stood underneath the metallic pole that raced high into the purplish sky above, swiping another command into his datapad.
“I’m still not sure that this will be enough energy to stabilize the Anomaly,” he said, looking up from his device. “What is this construct? A relay tower of some sort?”
The Dread Lord nodded. “It’s the largest energy access terminal on this planet. From here, you should be able to stabilize the Anomaly.”
Mudaw sighed. “I told you already, we need a starship reactor if we’re going to generate enough power.”
“You’ll make do,” replied the Dread Lord, turning towards the exit. “And if you can’t, I’ll throw you into the rocks below and find someone who can. It should be an easy trip for you, you know the way already.”
Nightrick watched as the blood-red cloth hanging from the back of the Dread Lord’s black armor disappeared through the doorway leading into the tower. He looked over at his counterpart, whose once mighty wings were now nothing more than stumps protruding from the back of his tunic. “Oro…”
The sphinx raised his hand lightly. “You’re not responsible for his crimes.”
“I wish that were true. You should have told me...”
“About the Plague?” finished the sphinx.
Nightrick nodded. “You gave him everything he needs to destroy my people.”
“No, Doctor, I did not. I simply leveled the playing field. When Francis told me what you had done, I was furious. Of course I helped him. It wasn’t until much later on that I realized the truth of things.”
“And what truth is that?”
The fleshy nodes on the sphinx’s back fluttered lightly. “He’ll kill us all if we let him.”
“You should have let me fall. That would’ve slowed him down at least.”
“I couldn’t. You alone have the power to unite our people against him. I know you think that dying is the only way to end this, but hear me now, Dr. Nightrick. Falling cannot stop him. Only rising can do that.”
“It’s too late. You said it yourself: with or without us he’ll have the probe stabilized soon.”
> Mudaw smiled softly. “I remember once, when my daughter was just a fledgling, I brought home a very expensive spectrometer from the lab for a little project I was working on at the time. When I saw the way that she was eyeing the device, I told her very sternly not to touch it and I hid it away where I thought she wouldn’t be able to find it. Of course, the very next day I heard a loud crash come from the closet I’d stuck the machine into. When I got to the room, I found her sprawled out on the ground with the device in pieces beside her. She cried and cried, begging for me to give her another chance, and do you know what I told her? I told her that there are no second chances. Once something is done, it’s done forever. You can’t rewrite the past, but you can always rewrite the future. You can spend the rest of your time here, defeated, focusing solely on how you created this monster, or you can work with me, and together we’ll find a way to stop him. It’s up to you.”
“But how?”
Dr. Mudaw gestured at the towering antennae next to him. “This is how. Francis and his people believe that they understand the Andalarian technology they continue to use with reckless abandon, but truth be told, they haven’t even scratched the surface. For instance, he’s under the impression that this energy pylon is powering the Spire and its surrounding infrastructure. I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Well then what is it?” asked Nightrick, looking over at the metallic pole.
“I believe that it’s a part of a larger seismic stability grid. The Andalarians built them across the entirety of this world to keep the ground steady even as they continued to progressively strain their environment with mining and other more advanced projects. All species push the limits of their surroundings while they ascend into spacefaring. It’s just the nature of the beast. These pylons helped to undo that damage after the fact.”
“So you’re suggesting we trigger an earthquake to bury Francis and his army?”
“No,” said the sphinx, shaking his head. “I’m suggesting we trigger a hundred earthquakes at once and restructure the surface of Dusk.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Captain Palladium let out a long sigh, pushing off of the communication console he’d been leaning against. The bridge of the Titrant had been placed on high alert, and all around the room various technicians and officers scrambled back and forth, trying to keep themselves out of the captain’s crosshairs.
“They’re ordering us to stand down and open the hangars,” he said, turning towards Governor Zuma. “And they’ve totally isolated our communication relays. We can’t get a signal out without passing it through their network.”
Zuma frowned. “I didn’t think Dorian had it in him to lead a coup. He was always a bit raw, but I never doubted his loyalty.”
The captain walked over to another one of the glowing terminals and began to transmit another message. “When I served under him in the beginning of the Sphingian Conflict, his philosophy was total war. He always said that you can try to kill your enemy with kindness, but fire and steel work better. Even then, he was hardly a butcher. I mean he skirted the line a couple of times, but he did what he had to while fighting an unconventional, ruthless enemy. It wasn’t until his son died over the Pacific that he really went off the deep end. He started glassing noncombatants, targeting sphingian medical frigates, executing prisoners of war. On our ship, they used to say, ‘there’s no point checking the cells, Dorian’s guests never stay the night.’ There were even a couple of instances where Nightrick had to recall him back to Earth to answer for some atrocity or another, though he never lost his command. His actions were by and large sanctioned by High Command.”
“What he did during the war is of little consequence now,” said Zuma, crossing his arms. “He hit a refugee camp in peace time. That’s beyond what anyone on Earth is going to tolerate. People will be horrified when they find out what happened on Mars.”
Palladium shook his head. “If you think that he’ll have a hard time rallying supporters on Earth, you’ll find yourself sorely mistaken. Truth be told, he’s probably already taken control of Command. Perhaps you’ve been on Mars for too long. He’s a hero among most of the population, and I don’t think a couple of dead aliens are going to change that.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“No, it’s a realistic thing to say,” said the captain, slamming his hand down on the console as his transmission was once again blocked. “I understand your sympathies, Governor, but if the shoe had been on the other foot and they’d glassed one of our refugee camps, I don’t think there would be any tears flowing on Sphandaria either.”
“Then maybe they’re right to call us ape men,” said the governor, brushing past his security director as he turned and exited the bridge. Jun watched him leave before turning to the captain.
“Any word on Bismuth?”
Palladium brought his hand down again on the display in front of him. “None. The bastards just sent us another order to stand down. They mean to land a transition crew and relieve the officers in the Second Fleet of command.”
“Are you going to let them land?”
“Hell no,” said the captain. “I already told them that if they fly a shuttle within twenty klicks of our fleet, they’ll be sending that crew home in an urn. They’ve now informed me that if I refuse to stand down, they’ll brand me a mutineer. I told them to let me speak to General Bismuth, but they’ve refused.”
“Bismuth is dead then. Otherwise, they’d have been parading him around the second you started to refuse their orders.”
“We don’t know that. What I do know is that if we stay here any longer, they will force their way onto this ship and take control of the fleet. We need to go, and quickly. It’s what the general would want us to do.”
“Where?”
“Sphandaria. I want to get to Admiral Halsey before she moves the First Fleet back to Earth.”
Admiral Dorian stood on the deck of the Silica, looking out the viewport in the direction of the Second Fleet.
“Enough of this nonsense. If Palladium isn’t going to cooperate, let’s move forward with the breach.”
Captain Viridian nodded, fiddling with his datacuff. “My sources in High Command are informing me that the council means to elevate you to Admiral of the Navy and Protectorate of the Human Empire. The traitors who dissented are being rounded up as we speak.”
“Good. Then we’re one step closer to unifying our people against the looming threat of extinction. How long until the remaining fleets return to the system?”
“So far we’ve received affirmation from the Fifth and Seventh. The First Fleet has yet to respond, and the Second is still resisting.”
“Alright. Return to Terra Meridiani, Governor Viridian, and raise a proper Martian militia. Bring order to your new colony.”
“As you command, Admiral,” said the captain with a small bow. “I’ll depart at once.”
Dorian kept his eyes locked on the dark specks floating off in the distance as the newly appointed governor exited the bridge. “How long until our people are in position?”
“Five minutes, sir, but there’s a problem,” said the technician behind him. “We’re detecting a warp space distortion near the Titrant. They’re jumping.”
The admiral clasped his hands behind his back. “Then bring them down, now.”
“Impossible, sir. The distortion will deflect our fire.”
Dorian clenched his jaw a touch, turning towards the technician. “I didn’t think they’d leave without Bismuth. Can we track their trajectory?”
“Crudely, yes. They appear to be jumping towards sphingian space.”
The admiral looked back out the viewport. “Let them go then. We’ll deal with those traitors when we deploy the navy towards Sphandaria. Don’t be surprised if you see their ships amongst the beasts’. Snakes of scale, as they say.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And speaking of Sphandaria, which of the fleets was it that was deployed there?”
“The First Fleet, under Admiral Claire Halsey, is on a humanitarian mission to the Plague-ravaged capital.”
Dorian scoffed. “Recall them immediately. Perhaps they didn’t get the first message.”
The technician hesitated. “Sir, I don’t think we’re in a position to be sending orders like that. It’s one thing to try and quell a mutiny on the Titrant, or even to recall fleets deployed by lesser commanders, but we don’t have the authority to be summoning a fleet deployed by Dr. Nightrick himself.”
“I have given us the authority. Now do as I’ve instructed or you’ll be meeting the same fate as the rest of the traitors across our empire. There’s no room left for uncertainty.”
The technician paled, swiping another series of commands into his console. “It’s done, sir.”
“Good. Halsey had Dire Squad with her when she deployed. I want them back here as soon as possible. They’re completely wasted on humanitarian bullshit. Unlike Palladium and his lot, I’m sure they still remember who the real enemy is.” The admiral watched as the Second Fleet plunged into warp space, leaving nothing in their wake but the empty vacuum. “And if they don’t, I’ll remind them.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sergeant Spyrion Grant pulled the trigger, sending another slew of metal out of the jeep-mounted chain gun and into the horde of sphinxes flying overhead. One of the beasts screamed as it went careening down into the rolling dunes that Dire Squad was racing across.
“Got another one of the bastards,” he screamed into the jeep.
“Great,” replied Sergeant Tom Evans from inside. “Now kill the other fifty and we’ll call it a day.”
A stray shot from overhead went tearing into the cabin, missing the sphinx cowering in between Evans and Sergeant Jane Traygar by a hair.
“Goddammit,” she said, leaning towards the front. “Don’t drive in a fucking straight line. You’re going to get us all killed.”
