Brak chewed twice and swallowed the massive bite. “Yes,” he replied. “Want some?” He held the bone out.
“No!” Garek almost fell out of his chair in his hurry to leave the table. He left the mess hall at a run.
Brak heaved his massive shoulders. “More for me.”
Lucien left the table next, taking Addy with him. They went to sit in a booth at the far end of the mess hall, as far as they could get from Brak without physically leaving the room.
Addy grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through it.
“I’ve been thinking about what we’re doing—starting a war and rescuing our people. Maybe we should set our sights somewhere closer to home.”
Lucien regarded her with eyebrows raised. “What’s home? The Etherian Empire? Astralis?”
Addy placed her free hand over his heart. “Here.”
He smiled wryly and leaned in for a kiss, but she pushed him away after just a moment. “I mean it, Lucien.”
“So do I,” he said, matching her tone.
She frowned and looked away, placing their hands on the table in front of them. She spent a moment studying the way their hands locked together, her gaze far away. “I think I’m in love with you,” she said.
Lucien blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “I...”
“Can’t bring yourself to say it back?” she asked, turning back to him.
“No, it’s not that. It’s... I just haven’t had a chance to stop and think about us. It’s been one crisis after another since we left the Etherian Empire and you and I met, and most of the time we’ve spent together since then has been in bed.”
Addy nodded slowly, her hand leaving his. “I get it.” She sighed. “Story of my life. I find a great guy, and he just wants to have fun.”
Lucien found her hand again. “That’s not true. I want more than that. I could actually see us together fifty years from now, a ship of our own, exploring the universe together, seeing things no one has ever seen before.”
“Sounds amazing,” Addy said, smiling dreamily at him. “So why don’t we do that? Forget Astralis, the Etherian Empire, Etheria, Etherus, Abaddon, the Faros—forget everything but you and me.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Why not? Neither of us have ties to Astralis. And as for family back in the Etherian Empire... my ties to family were cut long before I left, and your family has probably forgotten you by now.”
Lucien frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s been eight years, almost nine, since they’ve heard from you. They probably think you’re dead. Maybe they’ve even convinced Etherus to let them bring you back to life from backups taken before you left.”
“I don’t think Etherus would agree to do that,” Lucien replied.
“Regardless, nine years is a long time, and if your family ties were so strong, you wouldn’t have left the Etherian Empire in the first place.”
“Fair enough, but what’s your point?”
“My point is we’re free, Lucien! As free as two people can ever get. So why aren’t we living like it?”
“Well, for one thing, we don’t have a ship of our own to go exploring the universe with,” Lucien said.
“No,” Addy admitted, “But we could get one.”
“How?”
Addy shrugged. “Work for a Marauder crew until we can afford our own ship.”
“Become outlaw pirates, you mean. I don’t think the life expectancy is very long in that job.”
“We could find legitimate work, too. An empire as big as the Farosien Empire has to have plenty of work.”
“But we’re humans, not real Faros. We’ll end up enslaved to them in no time.”
Addy shook her head, smiling. “Thanks to Katawa, we look like Faros, we sound like Faros, and we even have fake ID-chips. We’ll blend in perfectly no matter where we go.”
“What about Brak?”
“We take him with us.”
“And Garek?”
“If he wants to come.”
“I doubt he’ll be interested.”
“That’s fine,” Addy said. “He has his own path to follow. Unlike us, he does have ties to Astralis. He has to go find and rescue his daughter.”
Lucien nodded.
“So?” Addy prompted. “What do you think? Just you and me and the stars. No commitments—except to each other,” she added with a wink.
“And to the netherworld with everyone else?” Lucien asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but yeah. What makes you think it’s our job to save them? Astralis left the Etherian Empire knowing the risks, and so did we. I don’t want to be heartless, but I don’t think there’s actually anything we can do to help them. By now our people have been farmed out to slave markets all over the universe. Even rescuing one of them would be hard, but all of them?” Addy’s eyebrows shot up, and she shook her head. “Garek has a reasonable goal: save his daughter and beat it back to the Etherian Empire, but even that won’t be easy.
“You want to start a war and defeat an alien empire that spans the entire universe. Even if you find the Etherian Fleet and Katawa really does give it to you, a thousand ships are never going to be enough.”
“We can’t just give up,” Lucien said.
“Why not? Look, I know you believe in Etherus. You think he’s almighty God. Well, if that’s true, then why doesn’t he go wage a war with Abaddon? What’s he doing hiding behind the Red Line?”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Lucien said, looking away from her.
“It’s both here and there,” Addy replied. She touched the side of his chin with her forefinger and turned his gaze back to her, forcing him to look into her bright green eyes. They weren’t cold as he expected them to be, but warm and full of sympathy. “Who are you to do what even your God will not?”
Lucien frowned. “Let’s break it down: you’re saying we shouldn’t fight evil because Etherus isn’t out there leading the charge.”
Addy shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“What if he’s waiting for us to do it?”
“So he’s lazy?” Addy asked, her brow screwing up. “How’s that any better?”
“What if Etherus created the Faros and the Etherians, knowing full well that they’d start a war with each other. What if he’s testing them? Testing us. We used to be Etherians, after all. And if this is some kind of test, I don’t think we’re going to get full marks by leaving all the questions blank, and waiting for the teacher to tell us the answers.”
“But the Etherians aren’t free,” Addy objected. “So how can he be testing them?”
“They have to be,” Lucien said. “Maybe they’re not tempted to do evil, but I think they still can, and the history we’ve learned about them supports that. Look at the Gors and the now-extinct Sythians. They were Etherians who fought with the Faros in the Great War. Their punishment was to remain stranded on the worlds they destroyed, and eventually they evolved into entirely different species.”
“What’s your point?” Addy asked, shaking her head.
“My point is, a long time ago some of the Etherians did choose to do something wrong. The Gors are living proof of that.”
“Okay, so they’re free-ish,” Addy said. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Simple. The first time the Etherians did something wrong was back when some of them joined the war against Etherus, and now they’re doing something wrong for a second time by not starting a war with Abaddon. The Etherians are just sitting there in paradise, content to forget about the rest of the universe and its troubles. Pacifism is their new sin, but what scares me is what their punishment might be.”
“Such as?”
“The Etherians and all of the Etherian Empire are like a sand bar in the middle of an ocean. All it takes is one big wave, and they’re gone.
“If you take the Red Line and everything in it, it’s just a dot compared
to the rest of the universe. The sheer difference in size and numbers between Etheria and the Farosien Empire makes them extremely vulnerable.”
“But the Faros don’t know where Etheria is.”
“No, not yet, but the lost fleet might change that. If Abaddon stumbles on it before we do, he’s going to use it to conquer Etheria. The war will be over before you can blink, and the Faros will lead everyone in the Etherian Empire into slavery—including the entire human race.”
Addy looked skeptical. “New Earth is mobile. They’ll just pick up and run.”
“And just look at how that worked out for Astralis. You can’t run forever.”
“All right, let’s say all of that happens. You think Etherus is just going to stand by and let his kingdom crumble? If he’s the almighty creator of the universe, then you’re worrying for nothing. He’ll just wave his hands and the Faros will disappear.”
Lucien stared at her. “And what if he’s not really God?”
“Well...”
Addy didn’t have a ready answer for that. She wasn’t exactly a big believer, after all.
Lucien nodded slowly. “If Etherus isn’t who he says he is, then this war that you’re trying to convince me not to start is the only thing standing between our entire species and eternal damnation.”
Addy blew out a breath. “So it’s our job to find this fleet and use it against Abaddon to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Maybe. First we need to make sure the secret of Etheria’s location stays safe. Then we can figure out how to use the fleet to get our people back, and after that, maybe we can start freeing other species, too.”
Addy began shaking her head. “I love your idealism, Lucien, I really do, but I also love you, and I’m pretty sure this war is going to get you killed.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But if I do die, at least my life will have meant something.”
“It already means something! To me. I need you.” Addy’s eyes were pleading as they searched his.
“I need you, too, Addy...”
“No, you don’t need me. You need soldiers. And I’m not one.”
Addy stood up and left the booth. Even bald as an egg she still looked amazing. Lucien felt something physically tugging him to follow her as she left, but instead of doing that, he just sat there and watched her go.
His heart hurt. They were at an impasse. She wanted the two of them to go off exploring the universe with nothing to weigh them down, while he was itching for a larger meaning to life. This war with Abaddon was it: a real crusade, a holy war like the universe had never seen before.
Wars were rarely justified, their causes diluted by the blood of the fallen until they lost all reason, but every now and then there came a war that was different, a war that called out to the hearts of everyone who ever heard of it—a war to end all wars.
This was one of those wars. Lucien knew he couldn’t walk away. He’d been born for this. The light-bringer. Somehow, even his name foretold his purpose. He was supposed to bring light to a dark universe, to help restore peace and justice for everyone, everywhere.
Maybe it was arrogant to think that was possible, or that he could somehow be instrumental in such a timeless struggle, but someone had to be, so why not him?
“We are ready to leave.”
That voice stirred Lucien from his thoughts. He looked up and found Katawa standing in the entrance of the mess hall. Katawa’s giant black eyes found him, and blinked. “Did you eat?” the little gray alien asked.
Brak grunted and pushed out his chair from the table at the other end of the mess hall, his plate was empty but for a few bloody scraps of gristle. “Too much!” he declared, and pounded his belly with a fist, knocking loose a thunderous belch.
Lucien smiled ruefully.
“Good. You will need your strength for the underworld. We must go. The Mokari are waiting.”
Chapter 26
Astralis
Tyra sat in the armchair in the living room beside the picture window, wearing a sweater to help keep out the cold. She listened to the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth while she scanned the news headlines on her ARCs. Taking an absent-minded sip from her cup of caf, she promptly grimaced. The caf was cold—of course it was, Lucien must have brewed it hours ago when he got up to take Atara to her new school. Typical Tyra, so distracted that you don’t even remember to heat up your morning caf.
She’d woken up at eleven o’clock, but she’d still only gotten five hours of sleep. She’d been in her office until early morning coming up with new cloning bills in case the judicial department approved Ellis’s initial proposal.
Now she was scanning the headlines to see if the judicial department had delivered their verdict. Only a day had passed since Ellis had submitted the proposal, but the judicial department sometimes delivered verdicts within hours, so it wouldn’t be strange to have one by now. Astralis’s government was a hyper-efficient machine.
“Tyra? You mind un-plugging for a second? We need to talk about something.” It was Lucien.
Tyra closed the least interesting of the two news feeds she had open, freeing up half her field of view. She spared a glance at Lucien. He sat beside her on the couch warming his hands around a fresh cup of caf. Tyra swallowed a sigh, instantly resenting him for the fact that he had time to make a fresh pot, while she didn’t even seem to have the time to re-heat an old one.
“What’s going on?” she asked, only half-turning to him so he wouldn’t see the news feed glowing in her other eye. She took another sip of her cold caf and pretended to stare into the flames dancing in the fireplace.
“It’s about Atara. Last night, some time after I put the girls to bed, Theola woke up screaming. I went to check on them and...”
There it is! Tyra thought as she read the headline.
Judicial Dept. Approves Use of Simultaneous Copies for Safe Exploration
Tyra scanned the story. It mostly detailed things she already knew, a summary of Ellis’s proposal, and an explanation of how they would use clones to explore safely.
Then she got to the part of the Judicial Department’s verdict. They approved the proposal, pending further legislation to place new limitations on the use of simultaneous copies. But the Judicial Department had placed a limitation of their own: the clones would be forced to integrate with their copies on Astralis each time they returned, and no more than two simultaneous copies of any given person would be allowed.
Tyra frowned, considering the implications of that. It meant more disruption to the lives of the people who agreed to send out clones. In a way that was better. It meant the clones wouldn’t be leaving their families for good, since each time they returned they’d integrate their memories, and it would seem to them as if they’d somehow never left. They’d have all the memories of the time they’d spent with their partners and children, as well as all of the memories of the time they’d spent away, exploring.
Tyra nodded along with that. Assuming clones were never separated from each other for more than a few months at a time, it wouldn’t be too shocking or disruptive for anyone, but it also meant that anyone who consented to send out a clone of his or herself would have to think twice about it, because doing so actually would affect their lives. Besides all of the new memories they’d have to cope with, they’d be accountable to their families for their actions while they were away.
Tyra became aware of eyes boring into the side of her skull. She hurriedly closed the news feed and turned to Lucien with a sheepishly-innocent smile.
“You didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?” Lucien accused.
“Hmmm?” She took another sip of her caf and shook her head. “Of course I did. The girls woke up. Theola was screaming. Something about Atara... I missed that part.”
Lucien scowled and shook his head. “You know what, never mind.”
“Hey—” Tyra reached for his hand, but he moved it from the armrest of the couch to his lap. “I’m sorry.”
&nb
sp; Lucien’s lips were twisted in a smile, but his eyes were cold. “Look, forget about it. You’ve got more important things to worry about.”
“That’s not fair. Nothing’s more important to me than our family.”
“Sure, in theory, but in reality...” He shook his head and got up from the couch.
Tyra felt guilt twisting her stomach in knots. “I’m sorry, okay? I was reading an important article about—”
Lucien held up a hand to stop her. “Save it. I’ve got a meeting to attend. Maybe we’ll have time to talk about it tonight. That is—if you make it home tonight.”
The knot got tighter, and Tyra nodded slowly, watching as Lucien turned to leave. Then something clicked and her brow furrowed with sudden interest. “What meeting? You’re supposed to be on vacation until Fallside is repaired.”
“Admiral Stavos called a meeting this morning for all of the ex-Paragons.”
Tyra’s eyes widened suddenly. She knew what that would be about. “You can’t go,” she blurted.
Lucien stopped and sent her an incredulous look. “What do you mean I can’t go? I’m an ex-Paragon. I don’t actually have a choice.”
“Well...” Tyra faltered for words. “I meant you can’t allow them to send out your clone on one of the galleons.”
Lucien shot her a baffled look. “What clone? And since when are we sending out galleons?”
“Ellis proposed it all yesterday, and the judiciary just gave approved it.”
Lucien came and sat back down. “Maybe you’d better explain.”
So she did.
Lucien sat blinking in shock. “That’s...”
“Crazy?” Tyra suggested.
“I was going to say brilliant. Finally we can get back to doing what we came out here to do!”
Tyra arched her eyebrows at him. “As opposed to... what? Playing house on a giant spaceship?”
Lucien frowned. “You don’t get to play that card with me. I’m the one who’s there every day, wiping noses and changing diapers.”
Dark Space Universe (Book 2): The Enemy Within Page 19
