The alien’s translucent helmet melted away, revealing cameo skin that was almost translucent and three dark wells for irises.
“You may remove your helmets if you wish. The air is breathable by most organic species, and the Ymyrath Field does not penetrate the force field.”
Alex’s fingers fidgeted in his grasp. “The Ymyrath Field?”
‘I can speculate that this is their term for the radiation field used to damage the Rasu.’
“A reasonable assumption. Valkyrie, why don’t you join us?”
Caleb briefly considered dissuading her, but in truth it would make a lot of things easier. He checked the readings on his suit to confirm the alien’s claim about the breathability of the air, then collapsed his helmet and inhaled. The air was slightly pungent, carrying a whiff of stale oranges and a stronger moldiness beneath it, but his eVi didn’t ring out any alarms. By the time he turned to check on Alex, her helmet was already collapsed.
The alien stared at them, its ‘expression,’ to the extent it had one, giving nothing away. “You are organics. Good.”
“We are.”
Next to Alex, Valkyrie resolved into her virtual avatar, and the alien drew back. “But you are not. Is this trickery?”
Valkyrie’s voice was smooth and conciliatory. “No. I am a synthetic intelligence, though I am bonded with Alex here.” She gestured beside her. “Is this a problem?”
“Not as such. Synthetics are…complicated, but I am beyond harming now, in any event.” The alien’s numerous eyes settled on all of them at once. “Forgive my rudeness. It has been many cycles since I spoke with another living being. What do you want?”
Manners rarely translated naturally across species, so Caleb wasn’t offended by the curtness. “Do you have a name? Something we can call you? I’m known as Caleb. This is Alex, and the synthetic is Valkyrie.”
“My name does not translate into common phonetics, but you may refer to me as ‘Wyddoniiet.’ ”
Alex perched against a ridged pillar on their left. “Thank you, Wyddoniiet. Do you know that there’s a small alien outside, not far from your home?”
“Yes. It is my barometer. Should the Ymyrath Field begin to fail, its actions will alert me to this fact.”
“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose. One more question: the man who visited your people—the one like us. His visit must have been…well, he didn’t specify exactly how long ago it was, but it had to have been over three hundred thousand years ago. How do you still know his language? Do your people live so long?”
“Most do not, and I never met this individual. But we recorded his story and his language before he departed. This was all that was required.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it did imply some form of advanced data storage or memory sharing on the Ourankeli’s part.
Caleb gestured back toward the entrance and the force field. “What happened here? To your people?”
“We were attacked by the…ah…I do not hold a reference to an appropriate word in your language.”
“We didn’t have a word for them until recently. Rasu. We call them Rasu.”
“The Rasu happened. Ours was the greatest civilization in a score of galaxies, and they brought us to our knees, then ground us to dust beneath their metal forms.”
“I’m so sorry. They are attacking our people now, and we’re searching for ways to combat them. Did your…are you the only one of your species who survived?”
“Perhaps. I alone returned here, to wait.”
Could other Ourankeli be alive out there somewhere? Caleb leaned forward intently. “To wait for what?”
“For many long cycles, I did not know. Salvation? A return of the enemy? My people are not immortal, but with proper care we can live for many thousands of cycles, so at times I believed I waited only for a long, slow death. But it appears I have now been granted a better answer. I was waiting for you.”
Alex’s lips twitched; the enigmatic ones always drove her nuts. To Caleb, however, this sounded like the best news he’d heard all day. He perched on the edge of the cushioned slab, motioning for Alex to join him. “And we’re so glad to have found you. Will you tell us your story?”
The alien vacillated, literally, its skin giving the impression of melting and reforming; its legs lengthened until it was tall enough to sit upon the pillar. “I will recount what happened to my people, to the best of my ability. You can be the judge of whether the tale of our downfall aids you in any worthwhile manner.”
38
* * *
HAELWYEUR
Ourankeli Stellar System
“They attacked our outermost settlements in the C14X galaxy first, a thousand kiloparsecs distant from our home here. We’d never encountered their kind in our explorations, and the assault arrived without warning. All our settlements maintained basic defenses strong enough to repel any conventional attack, but the Rasu completely overwhelmed those defenses. The first settlement to be hit simply vanished from our communications network. The second one managed to send a brief distress alert before falling silent.
“When our ships arrived to respond to the distress alert, they found both settlements—a series of orbital research stations surrounding two uninhabitable planets—in ruins. Likely the Ourankeli in residence were all dead, but our ships did not have the opportunity to find out before they were forced to engage the Rasu still pillaging the systems. In a matter of hours, they were destroyed by the far larger Rasu armadas. But the battles provided us with our first visuals and scientific analyses of this new enemy. When they attacked our third settlement in C14X a month later, we were ready for them. Or so we assumed.
“We were not a warring species, and maintaining a robust military was not a focal point of our government. However, recognizing the inherent dangers of both space and sentient life, we of course possessed weapons—tremendously powerful weapons. While most of these weapons were housed in massive and thus stationary batteries here at Haelwyeur, in our home system, we were able to send smaller versions with our fleet to the battle. Those weapons performed their jobs admirably and destroyed the Rasu vessels. But, as I suspect you are by now aware, doing so did not vanquish the enemy. While we licked our wounds, began repairs and compiled after-action reports, their ships reassembled themselves and attacked our fleet with renewed vigor.
“Though caught by surprise, our fleet succeeded in disabling the Rasu vessels a second time—but not a third. Only our command ship escaped to flee home and share its dark tale of the true nature of this strange and deadly new foe.”
Wyddoniiet extended a fluid, almost rippling arm, and as they watched, it morphed into a spinning fan of flat blades below a flexible elbow joint. “See, we knew a great deal about transformation and regeneration, albeit from an organic perspective.” The blades slowed to a stop, and in seconds their arm had regained its previous appearance. “Now properly respectful of these Rasu, we began to prepare a more appropriate response. We captured several small specimens and studied them, applying our in-depth knowledge to gain a fulsome understanding of our enemy. We reinforced our defenses, amplified our weapons and constructed a new fleet of formidable warships. And behind the scenes, we began to develop a weapon we hoped could fell the enemy with some finality.
“When they finally arrived here at Haelwyeur, we believed ourselves ready. We believed we understood the toll the coming battle would inflict upon us and were prepared to pay it. We were wrong, and it cost us everything.
“We mined our outer planets, moons and orbital settlements with antimatter bombs, willingly sacrificing them to thin the Rasu numbers at the start of the conflict. After all, orbitals could be rebuilt. Richer planets and moons could be claimed and harvested in other systems. We’d made hardly a dent in the attacking force, however, when they grew wise to our traps and avoided all structures and astronomical bodies in favor of striking directly at the heart of our civilization.”
Wyddoniiet paused, all three eyes settling to
gaze at the floor for a weighty moment. “The fleet they brought to bear on our home was beyond anything we had expected, or even believed possible. Tens of millions of vessels became hundreds of millions when it suited them. For every one we destroyed, three more soon arrived. We dared not risk antimatter explosions so close to our beloved Haelwyeur, so we blew the Rasu to pieces again and again and again. And again. Yet with each round, they inflicted more damage on our fleets and defenses, damage we could not repair quickly enough to keep pace with the enemy’s destruction. The tide began to turn in their favor.
“But we had ruled Haelwyeur for a thousand thousand cycles, and we were not easily defeated. Our loss was a slow one, stretching over many periods, until suddenly we lost everything all at once.
“Protected by their millions of shapeshifting warships, a Rasu vessel of such size emerged through a wormhole…no words exist to adequately describe it. Its breadth stretched for a quarter the diameter of our stellar ring, and the vessel was devoted entirely to powering an array of weapons that carried the strength of stars. The behemoth concentrated all these mighty weapons on one section of Haelwyeur and…understand, multiple force fields protected the ring from the ravages of space and our sun and any enemy who dared to attack it. We had increased the strength and number of those force fields in preparation for this conflict. Beneath them, Haelwyeur had been constructed using the strongest materials in known existence.
“Yet one by one, the force fields fell to the onslaught of the behemoth. The defensive shields fell; the radiation shields fell; the atmosphere shields fell. The generators powering them fell, preventing us from safely sealing off other portions of the ring, and ten billion Ourankeli died in their next breath.
“Our forces could not penetrate the defenders protecting the behemoth. We were unable to damage it, even temporarily. Finally, Haelwyeur itself fell, sheared in two by hours upon hours of unrelenting assault. It was as if the universe itself had been wrent apart beneath our feet.
“We deployed our secret weapon, but by then it was far too late. We’d held it in reserve because its effects remained untested, and we feared in using it we would inflict the very damage to Haelwyeur the Rasu sought to exact. Until the end, we never believed Haelwyeur would actually fall, and in our hubris we ourselves allowed the impossible to happen.
“Only once we’d already lost did we salt the battlefield with the Ymyrath Field. A ‘radiation bomb’ would be the best way to describe it in simple terms. A bomb specifically crafted to create a subatomic chain reaction that interfered with the ability of the Rasu to take on new shapes and purposes, to join together and separate.
“The irony is, the weapon worked. Not in a single grand explosion, but rather like a cancer that spread from cell to cell, gradually weakening then crippling its hosts. When our remaining weapons fired on the Rasu vessels, they no longer reformed. Eventually, they began to break apart on their own. In the end those Rasu that remained intact fled our system. They had won the battle, but they would not survive to receive their reward.”
Alex’s voice broke the spell Wyddoniiet had woven like a clanging bell announcing the coming of the witching hour. “What about your people? Were you able to get anyone to safety?”
“We numbered tens of billions. In our arrogance, we did not consider evacuations until the attack was underway. Still, several million of our people managed to escape and flee to other settlements.”
“Wonderful! Where are they now?”
Wyddoniiet’s fluid skin seemed to sink in on itself. “Perhaps taking offense at our temerity to cripple their kin, other non-infected Rasu chased us down. With vengeance in their hearts? One must question if they feel such emotions. From system to system, wherever we took refuge, they arrived shortly thereafter to decimate our shelters. We possessed no portable version of our clever Ymyrath Field, and our wormhole drives were damaged in one of the early attacks, so we fled over and over again, each time in fewer numbers. When there were only hundreds of us left, we recognized that the next attack would bring our final extinction. We split up and sent scouts in every direction to search for a place where we might find permanent refuge. Find peace.
“Most of the scouts never reported back. To my knowledge, there now remains but a single settlement of Ourankeli. Several dozen, perhaps a hundred, of my people found refuge in the caverns of a moon in a system believed previously investigated and discarded by the Rasu. They hide there now, eking out what meager existence they can create for themselves, and wait to be discovered and annihilated by the enemy.”
Alex’s gaze, fixated on Wyddoniiet for the duration of his tale, now snapped to Caleb. Her eyes spoke a thousand silent words, as did his in return. They’d been here at this decision point many times before, and no discussion was needed.
They smiled at each other in the way only lovers do, and Caleb returned his attention to Wyddoniiet. “Let’s go save them from that fate.”
39
* * *
ARES
Anaden Home Stellar System
Milky Way Galaxy
The pale, mossy green-and-russet profile of Ares dominated the horizon as soon as the Periplanos exited superluminal fifty megameters distant. Terraforming the planet had taken their ancestors three thousand years, and even today the complex biosphere they’d created hung in a delicate balance that must be aggressively maintained—and it was. With Solum destroyed, Ares was now the crown jewel of the Anadens’ displaced home stellar system, and it would not be allowed to fall to ruin.
As they exited the spaceport in Olympia, Nyx noted how the city seemed much more crowded than the last time she’d visited. She supposed it was likely many people who had called Solum home moved here after its destruction, and Ares had always hosted a diverse population drawing from every Anaden Dynasty. But for every additional person now present, it appeared there was an additional garden or nursery to counteract the negative effects of the greater population. The air still felt a little thin for her tastes, though it posed no danger to them.
She, Lontias and Ziton had wasted the last five days running down leads on Phoebe’s possible location—in almost every instance the very thinnest of leads—but had come up empty. If Phoebe was alive, she’d deliberately vanished with a level of thoroughness that Nyx could only respect. Let her be.
It was comforting to walk the promenades of Ares with her brothers flanking her. The role of Inquisitor had always been a lonely calling, but maybe this no longer needed to be true. She was starting to get an inkling of what her grandfather had intended by sending her off to collect her surviving siblings. This sense of comradery, of…family was refreshing, arguably heartening. It made her feel stronger, which meant that together, they would strengthen him—and through him, all Anadens.
Corradeo and the would-be rebels had finally departed Epithero, and a new gathering of virtually all elassons from every Dynasty was convened at what used to be a vacation home of the Praesidis Primor. Did Corradeo own the place now? Estate regulations were sparse in Anaden society, since so few people ever permanently departed the mortal coil. Perhaps a traceable bloodline had won the day, or perhaps he had simply taken it for himself.
The residence was located outside of Olympia at a sprawling complex situated among the terraforming-friendly scrub brush. Several landing pads were being constructed to the east of the complex, and she made a note to land directly here next time. Beyond the landing pads sat an enormous and most unique spaceship: his command center when he’d led the anarchs.
Ziton arched an eyebrow in the direction of the impressive vessel. “What the hells is that?”
She shrugged mysteriously. “I’ll let him explain.”
Ziton grunted; he’d made it clear he was nearing the end of his indulgence for the secrecy routine. Which was fine. He wouldn’t have to wait much longer for answers.
Several people walked in small groups along the cobblestone paths winding through the gardens that surrounded the cluster of buildings,
and to a one they stopped and stared as she, Lontias and Ziton approached. She could practically hear the whispers. The Praesidis Inquisitors are returning? I thought they were all dead?
Not all of them.
Corradeo was waiting for them in a parlor off the east wing of the residence. His features brightened warmly when he saw her, and she hurried over to embrace him. After spending all her days with him for years, she’d missed him terribly these last several weeks.
“Nyx, my dear. I am so pleased to have you back.”
Behind her, Ziton dropped to a knee in surprise. “Sir! It is my honor to see you again. We were told you were dead, murdered by the Humans and the anarchs.”
Corradeo grimaced. “Please, Ziton, stand. No one kneels here.”
Ziton stood, looking thoroughly confused, while behind him, Lontias watched on in reserved amusement. Of course, the Praesidis Primor had always demanded kneeling, even from his most favored children. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“I am not the man you take me to be—but neither was he.” He motioned to two couches situated at the far end of the parlor. “Come and sit with me, all of you. I have a story to tell you. At its end, I will ask you to make a choice, and we will proceed from there.”
“You led the anarchs? But why didn’t you reveal your true identity and demand your son step down?”
Corradeo’s lips pinched together, and Nyx saw the strain behind his eyes. He’d patiently endured her own endless inquiries on this topic during their early travels, but he’d doubtless been berated with the same line of questioning hundreds of times since returning and surely must be growing quite tired of it.
But he quickly adopted an indulgent mien nonetheless. “By the time I could have done so, the Directorate had solidified such breadth of control that they would not have willingly given it up, even if they had learned Renato’s true identity. Their rule had grown rotten from the inside out, and they had grown mad from power. No, the system required dismantling from the outside.”
Echo Rift Page 25
