Shallah opened the door with a thought and watched as a dozen Sythians walked in pushing three human prisoners in front of them. They walked up to the foot of the throne. These three had already been thoroughly scanned. They bore no weapons, and they were not linked.
“Who are you, and where do you come from?” Shallah demanded, speaking in Versal rather than Sythian. He recognized the man in the center of the three from his pale blue eyes and dark brown skin. He was the one from the holo-recording—Therius, the so-called Redemptor. He and the other two men standing beside him wore Imperial Fleet uniforms, the colors faded with age. That suggested that they hailed from the original Imperium. Their Imperial rank insignia further supported that notion, but for one key difference. They all wore a silver six-sided star above their insignia. Shallah recognized it as the Star of Etherus. Those symbols had been found hanging on pendants around the neck vertebrae of fossilized skeletons throughout the Getties. Shallah’s eyes narrowed as he considered what that might mean.
“You already know who I am,” Therius replied. His pale blue eyes gleamed in the low light of the room, but they weren’t aglow with ARCs. “As for where we come from, some of us escaped Avilon, while others were rescued.”
“Rescued? Does Omnius know about that?”
“He doesn’t even know we exist.”
Shallah wasn’t sure he should believe that. “How is it that you have access to quantum technology that only Omnius understands? If even I can’t comprehend these technologies, how do you explain your knowledge of them?”
“Omnius did not develop quantum technologies; he found them and reverse-engineered them. The schematics we sent to you were originally recovered from the ruins of a world that is found here, in the Getties.”
Shallah was taken aback by that. Apparently Omnius had still kept some secrets. “You have proof of thisss?” he hissed.
“I can take you there.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Therius spread his hands. “I and the men who accompanied me are not linked. There is no way for Omnius to spy on you through us.”
“You call yourselves Etheria’s Army. I assume that name doesn’t refer to the city of Etheria on Avilon.”
“No.”
“Then you mean Etheria in the religious sense. You believe in an afterlife.”
Therius nodded.
Shallah grew uneasy, and his gaze returned to the six-sided stars on the humans’ uniforms. He realized that he was dealing with a group of religious fanatics. These people embodied the sentiment that had caused not one, but two Great Wars between mortals and immortals. History seemed to be repeating itself now, circling back around for a third Great War.
“We are already developing quantum technologies. We don’t need your help.”
“The rebels helping you are still linked. Omnius let you capture them, so that he could use them to lure you into his trap. He wants you to develop quantum jump drives, but in his timing. And when you do, he expects you to use the technology to attack Avilon. He’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”
Shallah sat back in his chair. “If that’s true, then we should stay as far away from Avilon as we can.”
“You can’t hide forever.”
“Perhaps not, but we cannot defeat Omnius by falling into his trap.”
“You have a chance if you surprise him by attacking Avilon earlier than he expects.”
Before Shallah could ask any further questions, news from the surface of Noctune intruded on his thoughts, fed to him through his collective awareness.
The prisoners had escaped.
That wouldn’t have been a problem were it not for the fact that the human prisoners were all still linked to Omnius.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said. “Something important has come up. We will have to continue this discussion later.”
“Something?” Therius asked.
“A group of human prisoners are trying to escape from Noctune. They are still linked to Omnius, and if they make it to the surface of the planet, Omnius will find out where we are hiding.”
“Omnius already knows you are here,” Therius replied.
Shallah’s Sythian eyes narrowed swiftly. “If he knows we are here, then why hasn’t he attacked us?”
“Because he’s waiting for you to come out of hiding and attack him at Avilon, as I already mentioned.”
“How do you know this?”
“You have a traitor in your midst. He is the one who communicated with us before we came aboard.”
Shallah blinked. “Donali? How do you know he is a traitor?”
“We’ve been intercepting Lifelink transfers on Avilon. That is how we rescue people from the planet. We know what Omnius’s people know, and they know a surprising amount.”
“You cannot intercept quantum communications,” Shallah replied. “The data is instantly jumped from one location to another.”
“Instantly, yes, securely no. Omnius knows of the vulnerability, but he doesn’t know about us. He thinks he is the only one who can manipulate the fabric of the universe.”
“Telling me you have access to hidden knowledge that only you and Omnius share makes me even more suspicious.”
Therius spread his hands. “But your suspicions are baseless.”
“Perhaps. Again, why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have a choice. I don’t see anyone else here offering to share the secrets of the universe with you.”
Shallah’s gaze traveled over the Sythian guards in the room, wondering how much they had understood from the conversation going on around them. Not much, he decided. Most Sythians couldn’t understand Versal without the aid of a translator.
Turning back to Therius, Shallah said, “I was going to attack Avilon to get revenge on Omnius, not because I thought we could actually defeat him there. Our fleet is strong, but Omnius’s fleet is far stronger. He has created a warship larger than anything ever built. It’s made up of tens of thousands of city-sized warships called Facets. Together, they form a hollow 20-sided sphere—an Icosahedron. It’s large enough to encompass entire planets and mine them to their cores, all the while collecting solar energy from nearby suns. Omnius calls his creation New Avilon. He used it to create my people, the Sythians, eleven years ago, and since then he has been creating more Facets. By now, New Avilon could have doubled in size.”
Therius appeared unfazed by that information. “New Avilon has actually tripled in size, but construction of new Facets has stopped as the existing ones spread out through the Getties, seeding planets with nanites to wipe out any possible evidence of Omnius’s lies. Even with an estimated quarter of a million Facets, seeding the galaxy will take a long time. The Getties is made up of more than a hundred million stars. We have observed that it takes an average of ten days for a Facet to seed a star system with nanites. That means Omnius will need roughly 11 years to seed every planet in every star system.”
Suddenly Shallah understood. While spread out across the Getties, those Facets would be unable to jump home in time to defend Avilon. It would take days or possibly even weeks to calculate so many different jumps over such vast distances, and a lot could happen in that time.
“Then eleven years is how long we have to get to Avilon and destroy it,” Shallah decided.
Therius shook his head. “Not destroy it. Liberate it.”
“What? Why would we do that?”
Therius arched a dark eyebrow at him. “When I proposed that you ally with us against Omnius, I wasn’t just talking about Etheria’s Army, I was talking about allying yourselves with all of humanity.”
“Impossible. I would have to tell my people the truth in order to justify such an alliance.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t told them already. You’re only helping Omnius by keeping what you know to yourself.”
“The truth would demoralize my people.”
“It will motivate them. You’d be surprised what people can do wh
en they have nothing left to lose.”
“What makes you think humanity will even want our help? We slaughtered them. They’ll never join us.”
“They will when we tell them the truth.”
Shallah wasn’t sure he liked the direction this was going. “Why should we help you set humanity free?” Shallah asked.
“Because you’re going to need their help to defeat Omnius. Speaking of which, I’d like to meet these prisoners of yours. Avilon isn’t defenseless, and we’re going to need all the soldiers we can get if we’re going to fight through Omnius’s garrison of drones.”
“The prisoners are linked. If you tell them what we’re planning, Omnius will find out, too.”
“We’ll de-link them first.”
“Lifelinks are like a cancer. Even if you cut them out, it just takes one stray nanite for them to grow back. If you are right about Donali and the Null Rebels being on Omnius’s side, then that is only further proof that de-linking doesn’t work. The only way to de-link someone is to kill them.”
“Exactly,” Therius said.
Shallah’s eyes began to itch with frustration. “Very well. I will agree to this alliance, assuming you can show me proof to back up your claims.”
“I can and I will.”
“Good, and I will see if what you say about the traitor in our midst is true.”
“You better hurry, before he tells Omnius we are here.”
“I am already looking into the matter,” Shallah said as he rose from his throne and walked past his new human allies.
* * *
Donali sat at the comm operator’s station aboard the Asharn, thinking about the arrival of the mysterious human vessel. This was something his master should know about. Donali glanced around quickly, making sure that none of the Sythians were close enough to see. Then he began composing a message, in human Versal, not Sythian or Avilonian, just in case someone should happen to see what he was doing.
He wrote: Unidentified human vessel arrives at Noctune. Ancient design. Possesses quantum jump technology. Captain of human ship claims to be Therius the Redemptor, Commander of Etheria’s Army. Therius has sent schematics for quantum jump drives. Is seeking alliance with Sythian Coalition. Please advise, Omnius. Donali configured the Asharn’s quantum comms array to transmit his message.
“What are you doing?”
Donali jumped and turned to see Queen Tavia, Shallah’s second-in-command, looming over his shoulder. She was a ghoulish creature with red eyes and papery black wings.
Donali smiled and replied in broken Sythian. “I am writing my journal.”
“You are supposed to be watching the comms.” Tavia reached out with one taloned finger and pointed at a blinking purple light on Donali’s control station. He had a message waiting.
Donali smiled and inclined his head. “You are right, My Queen. I will get back to work immediately.”
“Wait … what is thisss?” Tavia hissed, pointing to the last line of the message he’d been composing. Donali turned to see her talon hovering over the word Omnius. He went cold. Tavia couldn’t understand Versal. It was a completely different alphabet!
“What is what?” Donali asked innocently.
“You are communicating with the evil one?”
“You must be mistaken. This is a journal entry. I am writing about Omnius, trying to decide what motivated him to create the Sythians.”
“I am not so stupid assss you think.” Tavia’s mouth flashed open with needle sharp teeth, and she lunged at him.
Donali gasped as her teeth bit into his neck, and he gurgled as she ripped out his throat and threw him out of his chair.
Donali’s landed with a jarring thud, his lungs burning for air that they could no longer draw. He lay on the deck, blinking slowly, his life seeping out in a warm puddle around his head. He remained conscious long enough to see Tavia sit at his control station and begin uncovering his treachery.
But it was too late. Omnius already knew where Shallah was hiding, and if the Sythians didn’t leave by tonight, when Donali was supposed to manually synchronize his mind with the databanks on Avilon, then Omnius would know what had happened, and he would avenge Donali’s death.
It was a pity that he wouldn’t be able to share this latest development about Therius the Redemptor and his offer to share quantum technology with the Sythians, but he had done his best. Omnius would have to handle things from here.
Donali smiled as the darkness closed in around him, knowing that he would soon be waking up back on Avilon, his mission accomplished.
Chapter 11
Destra crawled on her hands and knees through the dark. Her heart pounded, and her brain buzzed with adrenaline. Rough furrows of castcrete pressed against her palms—Gor claw marks, Destra thought.
This was it. Destra tried not to think about the remaining obstacles to their escape, but worries circled through her head like carrion birds circling a corpse. Noctune was a forbidding environment. They would need insulated suits, weapons, tools, and power sources if they were going to survive beyond the protective shell of the Sythians’ bunker. The goal was to escape the prison level, find supplies, and then steal a Sythian ship and make a real escape, but even that was hard to imagine. Where could they go that they wouldn’t run into Sythians? The Getties had to be teeming with them.
Destra forced herself back to the here and now. She focused on the feel of the tunnel walls, listened to the rough scraping of loose castcrete brushing against their clothes and rolling away beneath their palms. She focused on the gritty smell of dust on the frigid air. The only light they had to see by was far behind them, so Destra had to rely on her other senses to negotiate the tunnel. Making matters worse, her hands were growing numb. The tunnel walls were like ice.
Up ahead, Atta crept along behind Torv. They came to a steep incline, and Atta whined.
“My hands are slipping!”
“Hold on!” Destra thrust her feet out against the walls for extra grip and pushed Atta up from behind with a grunt of effort.
“Where does this tunnel lead?” Farah whispered over Destra’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Destra replied, whispering back. Then she felt the wall beside her disappear, and she realized that the tunnel had taken a sharp right turn. Momentarily confused, she felt around in front of her for Atta’s legs and found her daughter still moving up the tunnel in the same direction as before.
“There’s a branch here, but it looks like we’re going straight,” Destra explained.
Farah gave no reply, just a short gasp followed by a scraaape! of gravel.
“You okay?” Destra asked.
“Fine,” Farah replied, cursing under her breath. “Just saved myself from a nasty fall at the expense of a few fingernails.”
After another few minutes of struggling up the tunnel, Destra heard a new sound, something besides the constant crunch and scrape of loose gravel. Somewhere up ahead she heard a large object dragging across a smooth surface. Destra marveled that her hearing had become so acute now that her eyes were blind.
But her blindness didn’t last. No sooner did she hear that new sound, than she saw light, glorious light, come pouring into the tunnel up ahead. Atta became a bright silhouette as Torv climbed out of the tunnel, his bulk no longer blocking the light source. Destra could see her hands now. They were bleeding. She grimaced and hurried on. Atta crawled out, and then a strong, corpse-gray hand reached in and pulled Destra out, too.
She stumbled to her feet. Her knees ached sharply from the constant pressure of crawling on them, and her hands stung with myriad cuts. Destra ignored the pain and tried to figure out where she was.
Like everything else she’d seen in the Sythians’ bunker, this room was made with familiar gray alloys, not the glossy black materials that Sythians seemed to favor. The lighting, however, was dim and lavender-tinted, pouring out from kludged alien light fixtures. Another alien feature was the contents of the storage room. The walls were ad
orned with racks of Sythian armor and weapons. Torv went to the nearest suit of armor, and activated it by placing his palm against the obsidian breastplate. The suit shimmered and writhed as if it were alive.
Destra heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Farah come stumbling out of the tunnel, shaking out a numb leg.
A tug on Destra’s sleeve drew her attention back to the fore. It was Atta.
“Torv wants us to put on the armor.”
Destra blinked stupidly at her daughter. “Right,” she said, heading to the nearest suit of armor.
She glanced at Torv in time to see the suit he’d chosen begin wrapping itself around him, automatically conforming to his size and shape. Individual pieces hovered into place on tiny grav lifts. Destra shook her head, marveling at the technology. She placed her own palm against one of the suits of armor and watched wide-eyed as it shimmered and writhed to life in exactly the same way. Spongy, sticky wet pads pressed against her palms, and a solid weight flattened her breasts. Then a skull-shaped helmet with glaring red eyes floated up past her nose and slipped over her head. There came a hiss of air pressurizing, and Destra saw the world turn a bloody red as she was forced to look through the helmet’s visors.
Destra spent a moment listening to the sound of her breathing reverberate inside the helmet. Alien displays flickered to life, taking up small hexagonal sections of her view with strange symbols and diagrams. She wished the helmet’s visors would be a normal color. But even as she wished that, they became clear. Destra blinked, and her skin crawled with the realization that the suit had somehow read her thoughts.
Feeling watched, Destra spun around. The suit moved with her, aiding her movement and making her feel stronger and faster than usual. She saw Torv, still recognizable from his size, now checking his forearm gauntlets. Glowing red and blue apertures appeared, sliding up out of his armor with soft metallic clicking sounds. Then a pair of larger red apertures glowed to life in his palms.
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