The impression of everything being made of glass was strong, if incorrect. Novoloume traveled along marble pathways, each and every one moving with exquisite grace and garbed as if for a royal banquet. It appeared she was not overdressed after all.
Oh dear. So many pheromones in the air.
Can you suppress them sufficiently?
Yes, though it requires greater effort than I expected. Luckily I am not otherwise occupied at present. I do wonder how Sator Nisi resists their effects.
Who knows. Every secret revealed about him seems to lead to another mystery.
Nisi and Advisor Hahmirin engaged in pleasantries about art, or possibly architecture, as they chose a pathway that took them along a ridge overlooking the water. Once their course was set, however, Dean Veshnael directed his smooth gaze to her. “Before we encountered the Anadens, we were explorers. As I believe you are aware, Ambassador, in our explorations we discovered the Naraida and the Volucri and formed alliances with them. We also encountered species less amenable to peaceful coexistence and were forced into conflict. We are not unfamiliar with the many dangers space and its inhabitants can pose, and we remain better equipped to navigate those dangers than others presume.”
Nisi tilted his head. “You are among allies, Dean, and time runs short. You can freely be more explicit with your meaning.”
“As time is advancing from running short to running out, I bow to your wisdom, Sator. What I am saying, Ambassador, is that we have ships. Weaponized ships, and citizens skilled in flying them. We have long wished to be rid of the Directorate’s despotic hand. Recent events have brought this dream closer to realization than we thought possible. As such, we are willing to contribute to the effort to bring it the rest of the way to fruition, but first we require assurances.”
Politicians always did. “Voice your concerns, and if I can truthfully allay them, I will do so.”
“Indeed. We more than most apprehend the necessity of order, of a healthy structure girding society upon which the people can rely. The Directorate’s brand of order is cruel and unforgiving, but it is order. We fear the chaos which could be loosed if the Directorate is toppled in a grand, sweeping act bearing no proper follow-through.”
This was why she was here, Mia realized. In Amaranthe. Far and above helping to forge an alliance with the anarchs, this was why she was needed. Miriam knew the Dean’s question required an answer, but her forte had never been governance, and she did not speak its language. Nisi knew the Dean’s question required an answer, but the Sator had abandoned governance for rebellion millennia ago. They fought their war with the skill and finesse of peerless warriors, but someone had to prepare for the day after victory. Because they were both smart, perceptive individuals, they both knew neither of them were that person.
It did feel good to be needed. To have a role, a purpose…and for the role to be shaping the contours of a new, more free and merciful civilization.
I believe you mean it feels good to be supremely capable of fulfilling that role.
She smiled in her mind. After a fashion.
Then she smiled at Dean Veshnael. “You wish to know what we will replace the Directorate with, and how quickly and effectively we will do so. I assure you, this is a serious concern for all of us. In the short term, we hope to keep the basic structural framework that currently exists in place, including Vigil and other administrative organizations—while implementing a considerable easing of their harsh operating directives, of course.
“We want to make certain people continue to get the food, power, medical care and other services they need, with as few interruptions as possible. Then, we want to work with all the species—Accepted and otherwise—to help them form a new government. A free, democratic government designed from its inception to serve the needs and protect the fundamental rights of everyone.”
“Will the Humans lead this government?”
She laughed softly and with the greatest of deference. “We have no reason to be a part of this government. We have our own home with our own government—multiple ones, in fact. We will not abandon the people of Amaranthe to grapple with the fallout of our actions here on their own, but we have no intention of ruling you, benevolently or otherwise.”
Veshnael and Hahmirin exchanged a glance, but whether it conveyed surprise or relief, Mia couldn’t say. Veshnael shifted his attention back to her. “Fascinating. The Sator is doubtless convinced of your sincerity, else he would not have brought you before us. Should you win the day, we will be happy to offer our services in the creation of this new governing structure. We do have some experience in navigating the intricacies of such endeavors.”
And want to ensure we keep our word, I expect. “Thank you, Dean. I know we will welcome it. The Novoloume’s skill in diplomatic matters is renowned.”
“You’ve learned much in your short time here, I see. Now, let us talk of practical matters. Can you do it? We have followed the reports of your engagements with Machim fleets with great interest. In these you’ve shown both technical military prowess and tactical astuteness. It has been heartening to witness.
“But overthrowing a governing body of immortals who have ruled for more than half a million years is no small task. Tell me, to this task, how many vessels will you bring to bear, and in what manner?”
Clearly not enough, else she wouldn’t be here now. Just as clearly the Dean must know this. Still, it seemed he wasn’t inclined to throw his support behind anything less than a winning hand. She gestured toward Malcolm.
Your turn to dazzle him.
Gee, thanks.
Malcolm clasped his hands formally at the small of his back. “We command in excess of seventy thousand vessels, all of which we are prepared to commit to this gambit. If you’ve studied our previous clashes with the Machim, I don’t need to tell you that our vessels are, with very few exceptions, faster, more agile and more resilient than those our enemy fields. They are flown by pilots and captains who are far more adept than any Machim at the art of combat. In addition, we have at our disposal three Katasketousya fleets. If you’ve observed their ships in action, you know that numbers don’t properly convey their impact on a battlefield.
“Our intent is to eliminate each of the Primors and the regenesis labs they depend on in coordinated, effectively simultaneous strikes. Furthermore, we have developed a concrete plan for accomplishing this. Now, with respect, Dean Veshnael, for reasons of operational security I cannot share any specifics of our plan until you commit to joining it.”
“A reasonable stipulation. You possess intelligence on the specific regenesis labs the Primors utilize?”
“We do.” Malcolm met the Dean’s piercing scrutiny with the matter-of-fact, quiet confidence she adored about him.
“Interesting. And you expect to be able to pinpoint the Primors’ locations at the critical time?”
“We do.” Malcolm still didn’t flinch, and if Veshnael was expecting him to, the Novoloume would be waiting for quite a while.
“What is your timetable?”
“Short—as short as we can make it. We’re moving assets into position now, as well as finalizing detailed mission profiles for each target. As soon as those tasks are completed, we’ll be ready to begin.”
“I see.”
A shadow passed across the sun—no, ‘shadow’ wasn’t right. Mia peered up.
“Halt in the name of Vigil Authority.”
The booming order came from a small craft hovering forty meters above them—then an Inquisitor materialized in front of them. A bubble of diati swelled out from him to encompass and isolate them from both onlookers and any security who were en route.
“Onai Veshnael and Necha Hahmirin, you will be taken into custody on suspicion of collusion with the enemy and treason against the Directorate. The rest of you will be taken into custody for interrogation regarding a variety of crimes. Any attempt to resist arrest will be punished in the harshest terms.”
Nisi stepped forwar
d to place himself between their group and the Inquisitor. “No one will be accompanying you today.”
The Inquisitor thrust his arm out to send a targeted stream of diati at Nisi. The Sator lifted a hand, palm facing out, and stopped the stream mere centimeters from his palm.
The Inquisitor froze in surprise, but only for the briefest second before recovering to spin toward the Novoloume.
“Get down!” Malcolm surged forward to shove both Novoloume to the ground and shield them with his body. His blade hilt came out of its sheath, and almost instantly a spear of plasma shot out from it. It flew through the air toward the Inquisitor’s throat, but dissipated just short of its target, banished by the diati protecting the Inquisitor.
Still, it distracted the Inquisitor long enough for Nisi to close in and grapple him from behind. The Sator’s hands clasped firmly on each side of the Inquisitor’s head. He inhaled deeply, wrenched his arms to the left and snapped the Inquisitor’s neck.
Layers of an onion, the secrets this man kept.
But a broken neck might not be enough to kill a powerful diati wielder, so Malcolm fired another plasma blade; this one penetrated the Inquisitor’s throat and stayed there.
Nisi dropped the body to the ground and thrust an arm into the air as a laser blast from the vessel above targeted them. Diati expanded in a canopy above the Sator and Mia; Nisi took a halting step toward the others to bring them beneath its protection, his expression strained from the effort of maintaining the barrier. “We need…shelter.”
Mia stared up at the vessel above them as it fired again. “No. We need victory.”
She stepped out from the safety of the diati canopy, cast her gaze upward, and sent a single, powerful command into the mind of the pilot.
“Mia!” Malcolm’s shout rose above the clamor of panic spreading through the walkways and parks.
“What are—!” One of the Novoloume. She kept her eyes on her target and her focus on the command flowing through her to the pilot.
The craft fell out of the sky and crashed onto the shore below them.
Thanks for committing that routine to memory, Meno. And remind me to give Devon his due.
I look forward to his gloating.
Nisi regarded her curiously as he released the diati barrier before going over to check on the Dean and his Advisor.
Malcolm confirmed everyone was in one piece, then unholstered his Daemon and pointed it down the hill. “Sator, see that they reach safety. I need to secure the craft.”
“It’s all right. The pilot’s dead.”
He whipped around to consider Mia sharply. “You’re sure?”
She nodded carefully as adrenaline and fear battled for dominance in her veins and her mind. How was he going to react to such a stark, merciless demonstration of her power? It was a Prevo power—the killing power of the Reverb, no Reverb required—but he would only care that she had used it. He knew she’d killed before, but now she’d killed in his presence. In self-defense, but a cold, calculated self-defense, delivered without mussing a single perfectly coiffed lock of hair.
Disbelief faded from his countenance as awareness replaced it. “You used the…right. The Reverb thing.” He smiled. “Nice job.”
She exhaled in relief and returned the smile. That helped. She’d worry he was lying, but his face was, as always, an open book to her.
Though momentarily flustered, once on his feet Dean Veshnael swiftly recomposed himself. He activated a small transceiver at his ear as security officers rushed in from multiple directions.
“Nopreis Security and Planetary Defense Departments, advance to Condition Five status. All Directorate agents and representatives, including Vigil security officers and vessels, are designated ‘hostile’ under Condition Five’s provisions.”
Security reached them to fuss over Veshnael and Hahmirin, but Veshnael urged them back then turned solemnly to her and Malcolm. “Under the circumstances as they are now developing, we will need to retain a portion of the forces I spoke of to protect Nopreis. However, you will have twelve thousand warships and their crews in nine hours. It seems the Novoloume are going to war.”
TARACH
ANARCH POST DELTA
As soon as they reached the lodging on Post Delta, Mia showered the curls out of her hair and changed into more comfortable clothes, then went to acquire some food.
She arrived back with a simple dinner a few minutes before Malcolm exited the shower. He’d bloodied himself a bit during the encounter on Nopreis, but she didn’t spot any open wounds or cringe-worthy bruises.
He eased into the chair across from her at the small table in her room. “Thank you. I’m famished. And for the shower.”
She nodded and folded her hands in her lap.
He took a hearty bite and was halfway to swallowing it when he started frowning at her. He hurriedly washed it down with water. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Maybe in a little while, but I’m not terribly hungry. Please, though, continue. While you eat, I’m going to talk.”
His head tilted curiously. “About what happened today?”
“Not precisely. When I killed the Vigil officer today, albeit temporarily, it was the fourth person I’ve killed in my life. You know about the third—the mercenary at Curación Hospital on Romane—but I need to tell you about the first two.”
He reached across the table, but her hands remained in her lap. “Mia, I’ve said it before, but you needn’t ever tell me about your past. I care for who you are now…” his face fell “…but you don’t believe me. All right. Given my previous behavior, that’s totally fair.”
“I want to believe you. I thought I probably did. But today, watching you as you realized what I’d done, I felt this surge of fear that your expression would turn to horror, then disgust, and then you would leave. I was being irrational, since my actions went beyond self-defense to saving others’ lives. But I felt the fear nonetheless, and with it came the recognition that in order for us to truly move forward, you must know the darkest parts of my past. And once you do, if you choose to leave, I’ll…I’ll understand.”
His mouth opened, but he forewent words to stare at the ceiling for a minute before returning his gaze to her. “Okay.”
She pursed her lips. Took a sip of water, then a deep breath. “My mother left us when I was eight years old. I’ve never blamed her for doing it. Odds are she would be long dead if she’d stayed. I might have wondered why she didn’t take me with her, but…. My father was a fence for an offshoot of the Shào cartel on New Orient, and my older brother, Ryu, helped him out in what my father envisioned as the family business.
“One winter evening when I was eleven, my brother sent me to deliver an illegal Daemon mod to a customer. The customer refused to pay the asking price, and when I refused to give him the mod, he tried to kill me. I killed him instead.”
“You have the strongest survival instinct of anyone I have ever known—and I’m in the Marines.” Malcolm wore a gentle smile as his thumb traced her lower lip.
Somewhere during her tale of woe they’d left the table to sit on the bed. Shortly thereafter, they had traded sitting for lying facing one another.
She rested her head in his palm. “I suppose I do. I’d say it’s simply due to spending so long with survival as my only goal, but the truth is I could have faltered at any point along the way. I could have given in, given up, and quickly or gradually faded away. Died in an alley or on the street or in the back room of a chimeral lounge. I guess most people in those circumstances do, sooner or later. But the one thing I knew even then, even when I was a child, was that I wanted to live.” She shrugged sheepishly. “And I was smarter than most of the people I’d met so far. I knew that, too.”
“Still are.”
“Well….” She rolled her eyes. “So there you have it: the sordid, the frightening and the merely pathetic valleys of my life. Sometimes—like today, wearing that ridiculous dress—I can hardly believe this is the same
life.”
“You’re here today wearing that stunning dress because of what came before. I won’t say it made you who you are, though, because you made you who you are.”
His hand rose to brush a wisp of hair away from her cheek and linger against her skin. “You and I? We never should have made it this far. We kept being thrust together in the most challenging of circumstances. Impossible situations. Each time, we could only be us—our best us—and fight our way through, then return to our separate paths that insisted on taking us away from each other.
“But those paths always seemed to veer back together, albeit with horrible timing. If either of us had faltered on our own paths, we wouldn’t be here in this moment, together. I guess what I’m trying to say, badly, is that knowing now how long and hazardous your path was, I love you more. More than I imagined I could.”
She laughed, as much from relief as from joy, and touched her nose to his. “You should have been a poet.”
“A bad poet.”
“A good one.”
“Well, give us another decade and maybe you’ll turn me into a mediocre one.”
28
TARACH
ANARCH POST DELTA
* * *
KENNEDY RUSHED ALONG the elevated walkways toward the lodging wing, where they’d claimed a small, spartan room. She kept her eyes focused due ahead to ensure they didn’t divert and glance down, at which point she would realize she was moving too fast above a volcanic chasm, get dizzy, flop plumb over the side, plummet through the clouds and land smack in the middle of a sulfur pit.
She reached the lodging and more solid footing without any unfortunate plummeting. A few seconds later she burst into the room to find Noah sitting on the edge of the bed.
His elbows rested on his thighs, and beside him sat an open but mostly empty bag. His vague pulse had mentioned needing to talk but nothing else, and she hadn’t been certain what she would find when she arrived.
Requiem: Aurora Resonant Book Three (Aurora Rhapsody 9) Page 23
