Echo Rift

by G. S. Jennsen

  “The new adiaK ships don’t go down so easily. And, yes, I lost two-thirds of my ground forces clearing out Namino, but they’ll be back up and itching for a rematch soon.”

  She wanted so badly to agree with him. She wanted to fight, too. But she had a responsibility to preserve and protect her people and their way of life. To ensure the heart of the Dominion never fell. “So long as it’s a war of attrition, we still lose. We need to concentrate on marshaling and growing our resources for the next real battle.”

  “What about Concord? They can spare the ships.”

  “Now they can, yes. But what happens when the Rasu find their worlds? I won’t constantly demand they fight our every battle for us. Concord is another resource we need to nurture, not waste.”

  Lance glowered at the panes. “I don’t like it.”

  “That much is obvious. And I hear what you’re saying, but now’s not the time. Today’s not the fight.”

  He rubbed at his face. “Fine. I’ll go along for now. Until we’re stronger. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see about making us stronger faster.” He strode off to the lift, fighting to keep his shoulders high.

  A sinking feeling pooled in her gut as she watched the first Rasu ships descend through the San atmosphere. Flashes of battling the Rasu on the streets of Namino raced in circles in her mind. Soon the enemy would rule the streets of Adjunct San, and there would be no one to stand and fight them.

  Dashiel was conferring with one of the other Industry Advisors a few meters away, and she sidled up beside him, fighting against the overwhelming urge to rest her head on his shoulder, only for a moment. “Several of the San d-gates have been diverted here to Mirai. I’m going to head down to the transit hub and see if I can help with the final evacuations.”

  He checked with the other Advisor, then nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

  Mirai One

  Absolute bedlam awaited them at the transit hub. Hundreds of displaced people huddled around in small groups, bags on their shoulders, backs and dragging wearily from their hands, all while Administration staff struggled to get their identities registered and direct them to temporary refugee housing.

  The chaos was most noticeable, of course, at the two gates originating from Adjunct San. People stumbled through one after another after another. Some of them were visibly injured, and many were coated in soot and debris.

  The nearing prospect of Firewall hovered over the scene, even if the evacuees didn’t realize it. How many more people stood a chance to make it to safety before the Advisors had to shut off the exit route to protect the Axis Worlds from a back-door invasion by the Rasu?

  Nika scanned the crowd several times and finally spotted Adlai and Selene ushering off a group of new arrivals into the care of Administration officers. She and Dashiel picked their way through the furor to reach them, and she handed Adlai a bottle of water she’d snatched on the way. “Where’s Perrin? I thought she’d be here helping with the evacuation.”

  “She is. She was down there a minute ago.” He pointed toward one of the checkpoints, but not seeing her, he waved down a roaming Justice officer. “Do you know where Perrin Benvenit is?”

  The man gestured toward the rightmost d-gate. “She went to San to try to speed up the flow of evacuees.”

  “She did what?” Panic flared in Adlai’s expression, and he pivoted toward the gate.

  Nika grabbed Dashiel’s hand, then Adlai’s as she rushed past him, dragging them both along behind her. What happened when the Rasu first attacked Namino was not going to happen again.

  Selene shouted in their direction. “Weiss! We don’t have much time.”

  “I know!” The three of them rushed through the d-gate, leaving Mirai behind.

  ADJUNCT SAN

  Asterion Dominion

  Gennisi Galaxy

  A steady series of roaring crashes and a pervasive, low rumble assaulted Nika’s ears as thick soot assailed her eyes. The d-gate was swallowed by smoke as soon as they cleared it, and she couldn’t see more than a few dozen meters in any direction.

  Ηq (visual, 40%) | ((scan.infrared && scan.thermal)(290°:70°))

  A cluster of heat signatures emerged amid the smoke down the street, and Adlai was moving toward them before she was.

  They came upon Perrin struggling to get two people, both injured, the last hundred meters to the d-gate. Blood trailed down her cheek from a cut on her forehead, and a large swath of skin had been scraped off her left forearm.

  Adlai and Dashiel each took one of the evacuees from her, and Perrin practically fell into Nika’s arms. “More people are back there in one of the buildings, on the next block. We need to go help them.”

  Adlai shook his head. “There’s no time. The Rasu will be in the streets any minute now. We’ve got to get out of here then shut this place off.”

  “But—”

  Nika wrapped an arm around Perrin’s waist, to hold her upright but also to keep her from fleeing back into the tumult. “He’s right. And you’re in no condition to be running around in this madness any longer.”

  Perrin sniffled. “But what about those people? The Rasu will torture and kill them.”

  Dueling sentiments warred in Nika’s mind. She despised the very idea of Firewall, and she’d loudly spoken out against it at every opportunity. But that was before she’d seen what it meant for the Rasu to control the streets of Namino. “They knew the risks, and they’ve had weeks to leave. We’ve begged and pleaded with them to leave in every way we know how. We’ve done all we can. They’ve made their choice.”

  Perrin opened her mouth to argue, but doubled over from a fit of coughing.

  Adlai peered back at her in concern. “Okay, let’s move.”

  The transit hub gained hazy definition within the smoky overlay as they limped toward it. Thankfully, dozens of people continued to depart through the d-gates, though this resulted in the formation of a bit of a line. As the seconds ticked by, Nika kept checking behind them anxiously, searching the perimeter for the encroaching shadows of Rasu bipedals—

  A thunderous roar split open the sky, so close to them that it nearly ruptured her eardrums. She peered up to see a Rasu cruiser decelerating to hover a scant fifty meters above downtown. Its belly opened, and giant Rasu mechs poured out into the streets.

  “Go!” She shoved everyone forward; someone behind her shoved her as well, and she and Perrin fell through the d-gate to land face-first on the cool floor of the Mirai One transit hub.

  Dashiel landed beside her with his charge in tow. Time slowed to a crawl as they watched the shimmering d-gate—then Adlai and his charge stumbled through as well. Adlai handed off the wounded evacuee to a waiting officer and fell to his knees beside Perrin. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m….” Perrin’s forehead dropped to his chest, and he wound his arms around her. Over her head, he stared grimly at Nika.

  She nodded, even as hatred of the enemy and despair for the lost chewed up the fiery pathways of her mind.

  Adlai’s raspy, smoke-clogged voice shouted above the noise. “Selene, shut them down.”

  Behind him, the two d-gates leading from Adjunct San flickered and fell silent.

  5

  * * *

  MIRAI

  Omoikane Initiative

  Nika collapsed into the chair in her office—she’d finally found the time to claim a small room at the Initiative upon returning from Namino—and let her head fall back against the cushion.

  She’d showered and donned fresh clothes after making sure that Perrin’s wounds were treated and her friend was okay, or as okay as anyone could be given the brief but traumatic experience on Adjunct San. Dashiel was called away to one of the fleet production lines on the way back from the transit hub, and Administration staff was busily seeing to the evacuees who had barely escaped the Rasu’s clutches.

  And the Rasu? They were setting up camp on Adjunct San for a nice, long stay. She gritted her teeth at the thought; she hat
ed it, hated everything about this nightmare. Every compromise, every sacrificed life and lost battle. Yes, she’d made the Rasu bleed on Namino, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  Luminescence flooded the office amid a squall of dancing lights. In the split-second before her taxed brain caught up to the fact that it was a Kat, she’d leapt out of her chair and readied the blades at her wrists.

  With a harsh exhale, she sank back into the chair as the lights took on a vague shape undulating through the small room. “Mesme?”

  It is I. I apologize if I startled you.

  “It’s…fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What can I do for you?”

  The Rift Bubbles protecting all of your primary worlds, as well as Chosek, were tested today. I trust they performed their duties to expectations?

  “Yes, they…” her lips pursed “…is there any chance you can take on an Anatype form and pretend to sit down or something? I don’t have the energy to talk to all the lights at once. Not today.”

  As you wish. The lights drew in and tightened their spread until they formed the outline of a body. It wasn’t so detailed as Valkyrie’s virtual avatar, but she conceded it did comply with her request. A faint halo of lights drifted out from almost delicate facial features, such as they were. An attempt at hair? So far as anyone knew, the Kats were genderless, but Mesme’s namesake was a mythological Greek Titaness, so perhaps this explained it. The goddess of memory…must be nice.

  “Thank you. Yes, the Rift Bubbles held firm against repeated Rasu onslaughts. It is remarkable technology, and let me again express my gratitude to your people for sharing it with us. If my enthusiasm isn’t quite what it should be, just understand that I wish we didn’t need your help. I wish we were defending ourselves.”

  You are.

  “No, we’re relying on the charity and goodwill of hyper-advanced, sapient space lights—I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I am grateful for everything you’ve done. Millions more would be dead and worlds destroyed without your assistance.”

  The faint outlines of almond-shaped eyes watched her for a moment. Do you wish to deploy the next Rift Bubbles to your Adjunct Worlds where the Rasu have not yet invaded?

  She reached for her mug of coffee, only to belatedly realize it wasn’t there. Where had she left it? “No, the next one has to go to Toki’taku. Then…I don’t know. You should probably start offering them to Concord, right? They have trillions of citizens who require protecting, and even their massive fleet of warships can’t be everywhere all the time.”

  Discussions are underway regarding Concord’s preparation for a Rasu incursion. You need not concern yourself with it.

  “Well, at least that’s one thing.” Ugh, she kept trying to be polite and gracious and kept sounding bitter instead. “What about the Sogain—your system? I’m confident its existence and location were mentioned once or twice in the files on Namino.”

  Tyche is preparing a response. Any Rasu who enter the system will not survive to depart.

  “Oh?”

  Oh. As a result, soon it will no longer serve as a home—as a station—for any Katasketousya. In any event, as we are now public allies, we no longer benefit from observing your civilization from afar.

  “You know, we could have become public allies two hundred thousand years ago, when we first met one another.”

  It wasn’t time.

  Her head lifted up from the chair cushion in interest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  You needed to be left alone to forge your own path and discover your own destiny.

  And what was that supposed to mean? “This enigmatic shtick of yours isn’t going to go away anytime soon, is it?”

  I do not precisely understand your question.

  “Right. Of course you don’t.” She abruptly leaned forward, her elbows landing on the desk, as another thought occurred to her. “Is the Vault safe?”

  It remains safe, hidden and well-guarded. I can show you, if you desire it.

  “You mean spin up and whisk me a couple of galaxies away, then suspend me in nothingness so I can get a good gander at it? I think I’ll simply take your word for it, for now. It’s been a hells of a day.”

  I see. Allow me to apologize for your…impolite treatment on your most recent visit to the Sogain stellar system. It was necessary, but it gave no one any pleasure.

  “Necessary? You mean like torturing Alex on your Portal Prime was necessary?”

  Mesme’s presence seemed to deflate, spreading out across the chair it ‘occupied.’ Yes, in point of fact. Without enduring the admittedly unpleasant experience to which you refer, Alex would never have been driven to arrive at the Prevo solution. The Humans would have been cowed into submission by my more irascible associates, and so would never have evolved to be strong enough to travel to Amaranthe and defeat the Directorate. Billions would have died at the Directorate’s hand, but more relevantly, without the defeat of the Directorate, Concord would never have risen to power and thus been in a position to help your people defeat the Rasu.

  She stepped through her limited knowledge of recent Human and Anaden history, and the dots connected well enough. But hindsight was tricky this way, always erasing alternate, abandoned paths that might have led to the same result, or even a better one.

  She dropped her chin into her hand and considered the shifting presence sitting opposite her. At her request, its outline mimicked the appearance of an Anaden, and of the two species her ancestors had begat, Asterions and Humans. Mesme had been at this game for some time now, hadn’t it? Did the Kat imagine it was shaping destiny itself? “We haven’t defeated the Rasu yet.”

  You will.

  “Why are you so certain?”

  Because you must, else all is lost.

  Mirai One

  Adlai lifted his hand to the door lock on his apartment…and held it there, stricken by a wave of irrational hesitation. He continued to suffer these random flashbacks to Sevulch’s attack from time to time, usually when he performed some rote, routine action that on a single day had resulted in a terrible outcome.

  But Ian Sevulch—all living versions of him—was imprisoned at Zaidam Bastille (under new management), and Adlai’s home was again a place of peace and refuge. He shook off the spell and opened the door.

  The apartment was dark except for a dimmed light in the kitchen, and the paralyzing flashback threatened to rear up once more and overwhelm him. After a brief struggle with himself, he fought it off and tapped the overhead light on. Far too much relief flooded through him when it worked; naturally, it worked. Ian Sevulch needed to get out of his head, dammit.

  His current attire was coated in ash, dirt and flecks of dried blood, so he’d take a quick shower, get cleaned up and head back to the Initiative—

  He jumped in surprise to see Perrin sitting on the couch, for she hadn’t made a sound since he’d walked in. After a brief stint at a repair bench to treat her injuries, she’d insisted on heading directly to the refugee center hosting the newest evacuees, and he’d assumed she was still there.

  Instead, she sat slumped in a corner of the couch, her head in her hands. He hurried over and dropped to his knees in front of her. “Perrin? Are you all right?”

  She peered at him, and through the splayed fingers he could see she’d been crying. “Not really, no.”

  He slipped his jacket off, let it fall to the floor and sat beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Is this because of what happened on Adjunct San?”

  She sat up enough to rest her head on his chest. “I don’t understand how there can be such evil in the world. How can such soulless creatures exist that are driven to wreak indiscriminate slaughter on people they’ve never met, who never harmed them or threatened them?”

  He kissed the top of her head. Things had been a bit tense between them since she’d confessed to keeping Parc Eshett’s Plex identity a secret, and sometimes he worried about what other secrets she
might be holding close, secrets about her past with NOIR. But then she went and reminded him how there likely didn’t exist a purer, more caring soul in the universe. It wasn’t the only reason why he loved her, but it was certainly reason enough for her to have earned his trust. Now, his heart ached anew over the sorrow she was inflicting on herself.

  “I don’t have a good answer for you. We conceive of evil as existing along a continuum, but the far end of that scale is truly, deeply horrifying. I’m so sorry you had to see its depravity today.”

  “I needed to save as many people as I could. But what about all those I didn’t save? How many of the people who remained also insisted on keeping their backups close by, and now they’re gone forever? Their stories, their hopes and desires, all lost to the monsters of the void.”

  “Enough of this.” He gently turned her so she was facing him. “It’s understandable to mourn those who we’ve lost, but they chose to put themselves in danger. They knew the risks.”

  “Nobody could possibly comprehend the risks the Rasu pose to life until they’ve seen it firsthand.”

  “Nonetheless. We did everything we could for them. Most importantly, though, focus on the people you did save, today and every day for the last month. Thousands of people are safe, with food and beds and roofs over their heads, because of you. You should be so proud of what you’ve accomplished. I know I am.” He squeezed her shoulders, and she flinched away from him.

  He immediately loosened his grip. “Are you still hurt? I thought we patched you up.”

  She shrugged with her right side. “A little. I didn’t realize it earlier, but I guess my collarbone is cracked.”

  Had she been paying any attention at all to her OS alerts today? He stood and offered her a hand. “Come on. You have to get this fixed.”