Requiem: Aurora Resonant Book Three (Aurora Rhapsody 9)

by G. S. Jennsen

  The instant she reemerged into real space, she closed the wormhole and matched her speed and trajectory to that of the Imperium. She didn’t power down the Caeles Prism; she was going to need it again in another few seconds. Next she metaphorically tiptoed along the periphery of the hull to the location on the lower stern where Malcolm had so successfully ripped a hole in another Imperium—

  —an explosion crashed against the shielding to her port. The Imperium’s hull didn’t so much as vibrate, however, and she only noticed it because of the flare of light as photons burst forth out of the collisions of atoms, and energy multiplied then dissipated.

  In a distant, detached voice she hardly recognized as her own, she accessed the mission command channel. “All vessels in a four megameter vicinity of the Imperium, retreat to a safe distance in the next five seconds.”

  Now came the really challenging part. She seriously had a newfound respect for Valkyrie’s ability to balance a multitude of systems and actions simultaneously; she was also grateful for the quantum processes she did have access to, for the small ways in which her brain now enjoyed a few enhancements.

  Set the targeting on the negative energy missiles.

  Redirect the surfeit of power from the Caeles Prism, now approaching dangerous levels, to open another wormhole directly ahead.

  Fire the missiles.

  Accelerate through the wormhole.

  The missiles impact the Imperium’s hull.

  Reemerge into normal space.

  Close the wormhole before the energy from the impact travels through it and damages the Siyane.

  Shut down the Caeles Prism before it blows up the Siyane.

  She checked her location. Six megameters from the Imperium, right where she’d intended to be. She—the ship—pivoted in time to see explosions rippling through the underside of the Imperium hull, then cascading to ever greater strength in a runaway conflagration of energy. The telltale shimmer of the shielding flickered and went out.

  Commandant Solovy (Stalwart II): “The Imperium’s shielding is down. Fire at will.”

  The pulse arrived 1.4 seconds later.

  Are you alive?

  I am.

  And well?

  Close enough.

  Then you can tell me what you did later. Rest, and we’ll take it from here. Thank you.

  Her mother went back to directing the engagement. Alex drifted there in space, her mind half in her body and half in her ship. She supposed this was as good a time as any for the delayed introspection.

  It was easier to straddle the two realms now, and not unlike hovering in the opening of a wormhole. She felt hydrogen and helium atoms impact the hull, even as she felt the material of her shirt shift across her skin as her chest rose and fell. Now, neither felt more nor less real than the other. She thought and hoped it meant she’d grown less susceptible to the siren song of the elemental realm.

  The wormholes—the infinite space in-between space—had shown her the farthest and nearest spans of dimensions, of the fabric holding the universe together. In seeing this, in knowing its nature, she understood: it had always been inside of her. Part of her. Part of everyone, she was merely the lucky one gifted with the ability to catch a glimpse of the true expanse of reality. Joining with the ship was nothing more than a physical expression of what had always been true.

  Thus when she let it go and returned to her corporeal body, real and whole, she wasn’t giving up anything at all.

  To make sure, she did exactly that. Fine hairs on her skin. Smooth fabric of the chair beneath her. Solid walls, pliable floor, touch-interactive screens and controls. Real and whole.

  She smiled. Just as real, just as infinite. She hadn’t been wrong on that most terrible of nights on Romane when she’d knelt in front of destruction of her own making and found the bottom of the abysm. It was all just atoms—but what mattered was what the atoms came together to create.

  She drew up in the chair with renewed purpose, accompanied by a healthy dose of relief, and prepared to rejoin a battle that had now tipped decisively in their favor.

  A new pulse came in from Caleb.

  Alex, I need you.

  14

  CHIONIS

  ANARCH POST ALPHA

  * * *

  CALEB SPARED A BRIEF MOTION of his arm to send a wave of diati crashing into an advancing group of three Ch’mshak. In the corner of his vision he noted when they tumbled through the air toward the sheer face of the towering mountain, but he kept his focus on the shrinking pile of debris.

  The sky above him blazed with lasers and the explosions they caused, but he tuned that out as well as he knelt and tried to peer between two beams. “Felzeor? Anyone?” Not as though anyone could hear him over the roar of combat that sounded as if it was drawing closer. So he resumed digging.

  His muscles and diati shared duty casting broken beams and pieces of shattered walls aside. He’d already uncovered two bodies, both lifeless, as he exposed more of what had once been the outer façade of the administration building.

  An increasing clamor grew behind him, rising above the generalized noise of combat until he finally peered over his shoulder to see a squad of Marines approaching—or rather, being inexorably pushed back by a group of Ch’mshak. The Marines were holding them off, albeit barely. Should he help?

  He kept digging.

  A large slab of wall dislodged enough for him to send it tumbling away, and its absence revealed the tip of a blood-soaked wing. His heart leapt into his throat; the sight validated the justness of his efforts here and brought the looming shadow of his worst fears into stark relief. He shoved another chunk of rubble away to reveal more wing, and more blood.

  He dropped to his knees and removed several smaller pieces of rubble until a beak then a face became visible. They were bloody, too, but he could swear the feathers were chocolate in color, with a dash of apricot disappearing beneath debris. “Felzeor?”

  One eye opened a fraction to reveal a dulled green iris. It blinked.

  Endorphin-fueled relief flooded his veins. “I’m going to get you out, okay? Just hang on.” A beam half-covered the right side of the Volucri’s body. Blood seeped out around the edges of it to drip to the ground. He lowered himself onto his stomach and tried to see under it.

  It appeared as if an edge of the beam had speared Felzeor’s abdomen. His gaze ran along the exposed length of the beam to get an idea of how wide the edge might be. Five centimeters, at a minimum. Too large.

  He closed his eyes and gently stroked Felzeor’s exposed wing. If he moved the beam, Felzeor would bleed out before Caleb could get him to any form of medical aid. He’d bleed out in seconds.

  Caleb had only the most meager of first aid supplies with him: a single medwrap and a tiny tube of antiseptic ointment. There hadn’t been time to gather anything else; everything had moved so fast, and it had been more important to get here, to combat the attackers, then to rescue Eren and Cosime, then to find Felzeor.

  He could teleport away and return with a med kit. But Ch’mshak were literally meters away. If the Marines failed to keep them at bay, the fallen structure would be overrun.

  A burst of gunfire announced the increased proximity of the Marine squad. He straightened up and shouted in their direction. “Hey! I’ve got wounded over here!”

  “Polowski, Shaviiz, set up a defensive position behind what’s left of that wall there. Grenier, scale that façade and use what’s left of the second floor corner as a sniper perch.” Malcolm Jenner backed toward him, eyes on the battlefield, then crouched beside him. “What are we looking at?”

  “He’s impaled on this beam. I can move it, but when I do he’ll bleed out if I don’t have coagulant and bio-bonding gel at the ready. I brought a few basic first aid supplies from the Siyane, but they won’t be enough. I need a proper med kit.”

  He sensed Jenner’s frown grow as the brigadier studied the broken body beneath Caleb’s hands. “It’s….”

  “Don’t
you dare say, ‘it’s just a bird.’ ”

  “No.” Jenner shook his head. “It’s a…Volucri, right? A sentient, falcon-like alien?”

  “Yes. His name’s Felzeor, and he’s my friend.”

  “I understand.” Jenner’s face betrayed the lie, but at least he was polite enough to speak it.

  “Thank you. I don’t know much about his anatomy, but I know I’ll have to staunch the bleeding immediately. There won’t be time to move him first.”

  A shout drew Jenner’s attention, and he disappeared. A thunderous explosion shook the rubble, and Caleb tried to hold Felzeor and the beam steady. The translator was crushed, but a tiny squeak of pain escaped the Volucri’s beak.

  “You’re going to be all right, you hear me? You’re a resistance fighter, and this little injury is not going to fell you.”

  Felzeor blinked.

  Jenner reappeared coated in a fresh layer of snow and debris. “We got separated from our medic a few hundred meters back, and now he and two others are pinned down. We’ve got extra field med kits on the transports, but the odds of someone making it here with one are….” He cast a grim look toward the heart of the battlefield. His people were taking down enemies as fast as they approached so far, but the waves showed no signs of letting up. There were dead Ch’mshak everywhere, but even more live ones.

  “I can teleport to a transport, get one of the kits and bring it here. It’ll take me two minutes at most. But you have to promise me something. Promise me you won’t let the enemy breach this location. Promise me you will protect him, at all costs.”

  Jenner looked around to confirm his people continued to hold their own, then back to meet Caleb’s waiting stare. “We’ll look after him. If fire catches us from above, we’re all screwed. But nothing down here will get to him.” He flashed a pained smile. “Trust me.”

  If everyone survived, they could joke about the irony later. “Where’s a transport this second? I need precise coordinates.”

  “They headed up for safety.” Jenner’s eyes grew unfocused. “Mission Quadrant 3, S 14° E z 41°.”

  Caleb stroked Felzeor’s wing again. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fret.” Then he stood, cast an eye to the sky, and vanished.

  Caleb arrived off-target, thirty meters from the transport and hanging freely in space. The diati sprang into action to protect him, but he teleported the remainder of the distance into the transport so rapidly it needn’t have bothered.

  The craft was empty save for the pilot, who jerked in surprise at the sudden appearance of a person inside.

  Caleb waved him off. “No time to explain. Where are the field med kits?”

  “Um, in the back, left side cabinets, third one down.”

  “Thanks.” He sprinted down the empty personnel cabin and yanked open the cabinet. The med kit resembled a pack—that would be the ‘field’ designation—so he tossed it on his back, strapped it on and teleported to the surface.

  He couldn’t have been gone longer than ninety seconds, but the situation had deteriorated in those seconds. A splinter grenade sailed above his head toward the dozen Ch’mshak fighting through the gunfire to make a solid effort at reaching the Marines’ fortifications. Two Marines were bleeding into the snow, and a portion of one of the barriers had been blasted to shreds.

  He rushed to Felzeor’s side and again dropped to his knees. “Hey, there. See, I told you I’d be back.”

  Felzeor blinked again, but it seemed like a weaker effort. He was slipping away.

  Caleb unfastened the pack, shrugged it off and opened it wide. He found and removed a tube of bio-bonding gel, and was digging around for the coagulant when Jenner staggered in beside him. “I thought you said two minutes? That had to have been an hour.”

  Caleb huffed a breath. “Ninety seconds.” He briefly considered the man beside him before retrieving an additional tube of bio-bonding gel his hand had passed over. He offered it to Jenner. “You could use some of this.”

  “What?” Jenner glanced down. A growing splotch of blood was staining his flak jacket around a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded in his side. “Hmm. Thanks.”

  Caleb located the last thing he required then slid the pack over to Jenner and jerked his head toward the barricades. “I suspect you’re not the only one in need of patching up.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right. Do you want help extricating the Volucri?”

  “You can help by keeping those brutes off of me for another minute.” He removed the caps from the medical tubes and laid a medwrap out within easy reach, then leaned down closer to Felzeor. “This is probably going to hurt. A lot. Grit your beak and concentrate on breathing, and I’ll have you patched up in no time. Ready? Good.”

  He picked up the coagulant and held it at the ready as he concentrated on the beam.

  GENTLY AWAY

  The beam moved—blood gushed out of the ragged wound it left behind—MORE AWAY NOW—the beam disappeared off to the side, and he hurriedly began pouring the coagulant deep into the wound. Coating layer after layer across its breadth until the gushing slowed to seeping. Then he soaked the open wound in bio-bonding gel and quickly pressed the medwrap over Felzeor’s abdomen, trusting the treatments to do their job despite the unfamiliar anatomy. Blood cells were, fundamentally, blood cells. He hoped.

  Dammit, the wrap didn’t want to adhere to the Volucri’s feathers. He lifted Felzeor’s broken body up and looped the material around his abdomen several times so it adhered to itself. He was so tiny…large for a bird, but pitifully small in Caleb’s arms.

  “Felzeor?”

  Nothing.

  But his tiny chest rose and fell ever so slightly.

  “Shit! Polowski, throw everything you’ve got at them!”

  Caleb looked behind him to see three wounded and angry Ch’mshak less than four meters from the barricade. He stood, nestled Felzeor against his chest with one arm wrapped protectively around him, and joined the Marines at the barricade. Once there he splayed the other arm out in front of him. His lips twitched.

  A solid wall of diati expanded out to form a bubble a meter past the barricade.

  The Ch’mshak slammed into it and were knocked back. They fired their weapons into it, but the energy diffused harmlessly across the bubble.

  “Damn, Marano.”

  He shrugged, if awkwardly with his charge in his arms, and sidestepped closer to Jenner. “Catch your breath for a few seconds. I’m evacuating him to Post Satus. I can take you and your people with me, or anyone seriously injured.” He gestured pointedly toward Jenner’s side. “Which includes you.”

  “We’re all right. Thanks for giving us the time and ability to regroup. If we can dispatch these last Ch’mshak, we should push farther in. Search for more survivors and clear the remaining attackers out.”

  I love you.

  Oh, shit.

  Alex, baby….

  I promise I tried.

  A fresh batch of apprehension welled up to tighten his chest…but there was nothing he could do. She was uniquely capable of taking care of herself, typically with brassy panache, and he trusted her to not die.

  “If you’re certain. Realistically, you shouldn’t expect to find any survivors farther north of here, but I’ll send Valkyrie your way….” Because Valkyrie was still down here scouring the battlefield for the fallen, not up in space helping Alex. Another flare of worry he had no choice but to push aside. “She can guide you to anyone who’s alive elsewhere in the complex.”

  “Valkyrie? Not sure I follow you.”

  “When you see her, simply go with it. She can help.”

  “If you say so.” Jenner turned to his men. “Okay, this protective bubble is about to come down. Back in position and weapons at the ready!”

  Caleb watched them move into cover, then teleported fourteen hundred parsecs to Post Satus.

  ANARCH POST SATUS

  LOCATION UNKNOWN

  He’d aimed better this time, or possibly Satus wasn’t moving,
and he came to rest in the medical suite.

  “Over here! I need help!”

  An Anaden—not the same one who had helped Eren and Cosime, but Erevna as well—rushed over, attention zeroing in on the Volucri cradled in Caleb’s arms.

  “He has a severe chest laceration and probable internal injuries. Can you help him?”

  “Yes, of course. Bring him to…” the man looked around and pointed “…this way.”

  He carefully placed Felzeor on a cot against the rear wall. “He was conscious until maybe two minutes ago, but he’s lost a lot of blood. A metal beam had punctured his abdomen. I removed it then used coagulant and bio-bonding gel to staunch the bleeding—human medical treatments.”

  “Understood. You need to let us work now.”

  He backed away, suddenly dizzy from the adrenaline dump. He’d done it, though. Done everything he could for his delightful, brave winged friend.

  He noticed Eren on his cot across the way. It looked as if the painkillers had done their job and knocked him out cold. Farther down, a Curative Unit continued to tend to Cosime.

  “Caleb!”

  He spun around to see Mia hurrying into the medical suite. He exhaled in weary relief. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  He motioned around. “Making all this possible.”

  “Don’t be silly. Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t get hurt anymore, remember? But I had to get Felzeor here.”

  “Felzeor…” she peeked over his shoulder at the cot behind him and the increasing activity surrounding it “…your Volucri friend? Is he all right?”

  “Not in the slightest. But he has a chance…” he gave her an indulgent eye roll “…thanks to Malcolm.”

  “What? Is Malcolm all right? I’ve been trying to monitor the battle through the Connexus, but it’s so very military, and I can’t tell if things are going well or not on the ground. We just blew up the Imperium, so it’s definitely going well in space.”