“You’re saying that you’ve taken paradise for granted. Perhaps you should live in the Null Zone for a while so that you can appreciate Etheria again.”
“Perhaps I should,” Lena admitted. “But then fifty years from now, after I’ve gone to the Null Zone, come back, and lived for another decade up here, I’ll be back on this ledge hoping that Omnius will finally set me free.”
“Not necessarily,” Galan said. “If you want to jump off a balcony in the Null Zone, no one is going to stop you.”
“Yes… that might be the best way then.”
“You don’t really want to jump,” Galan said. “If you did, you would have chosen to become a Null first.”
Lena turned to look at Galan, and Hoff turned to look at him, too. There was a strange light in the Peacekeeper’s glowing blue eyes.
A fanatical gleam, Hoff decided.
“Maybe I just want answers,” Lena replied. “Maybe I want the truth for a change.”
“What makes you think you’ve been told a lie?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Rovik. You were there. You saw Omnius lead us into a trap. He sent us to Dark Space knowing that we’d lose to the Sythians there. Why?”
Galan shook his head. “The answer you’re looking for doesn’t exist, Lena. Your questions are both asked and answered by your doubting mind. You’ve lost your faith, and now you’ve begun to question everything.”
“So what if I have?”
“So what? Are you happy? No, you’ve robbed yourself of the peace and joy that come from living in a perfect world.”
Lena snorted. “No peace can come from lies, Rovik. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get on with my day.” Lena flexed her arms, about to push off from the railing.
Hoff chose that moment to intervene. He de-cloaked and grabbed her arm.
“Wait—”
Lena startled so violently at his touch and the sound of his voice that she jerked out of his grasp and fell, tumbling from the balcony with a startled scream. Hoff gaped at what he’d done, watching her fall toward the racing lines of traffic below. He stood there watching, frozen with shock. Beside him Galan cursed and readied his own grav guns to arrest her fall. Hoff snapped out of it and fired, reaching out with both palms for the tumbling black speck that was Lena Faros.
But she was already too far away for his grav guns to get a lock.
“You fool!” Galan said, hopping up on the railing to jump after her. Hoff followed suit, and they jumped together, diving head first and making their bodies bullet-shaped in order to travel faster. Hoff felt the wind ripping at his cape, slowing him down. Beside him he saw Galan’s cape fluttering like a torn parachute. Hoff reached up and tore his free, letting it float away.
Below him, Lena fell past the air traffic on level 100, miraculously avoiding a collision with the racing air cars. Hoff caught up fast, but his ARCs said she was 28 meters away—about 10 floors down. Now she was falling face down, arms and legs spread to slow her fall. Apparently she’d had a change of heart about jumping, but she had only seconds left before she would hit the elevated streets on level 75.
Hoff tried once more, reaching out for Lena with both palms. He didn’t get a lock, but he fired anyway. The guns grabbed something, accelerating him downward. Now both gravity and his grav guns were pulling him down. With just seconds to spare, he rotated his body to put his feet under him in a crouch, and he fired the grav lifts in his boots at full strength. His arms pulled taut and his spine curled as the opposing force in his boots pushed his legs up and wound him into the tightest possible fetal position that his armor would allow.
Then came the pulverizing force of the impact.
Hoff’s teeth clacked together; his spine popped; his head whipped forward and he smashed his helmet on the street. Pain erupted in every part of his body except for his legs. They were pleasantly numb. Hoff tried to sit up, but he couldn’t. His faceplate was shattered. The street where he’d landed was a spider’s web of cracks. People stood around in front of store windows, making space, pointing and shouting exclamations that Hoff couldn’t hear through the ringing in his ears.
Galan landed in front of him and walked out of sight. Hoff dragged himself in that direction, finding to his horror that his legs were useless. They rolled around under him with a grinding sensation. He saw Galan kneeling down beside a bloody smear. The black jumpsuit and wild splay of red hair told him that Lena had gotten her wish. She was dead.
Hoff saw Galan stand up and turn in a quick circle to address the gathering crowd of Etherians. They looked shocked and horrified, their glowing eyes wide and blinking in all the colors of the rainbow.
“This woman was a Null rebel who infiltrated Etheria,” Galan announced. “Rather than be caught, she chose to jump to her death.”
People began nodding at that. Nulls could do unexpected things. They were de-linked, so Omnius couldn’t predict what they would do. It made more sense than the alternative—that Omnius had somehow failed to predict and prevent a catastrophe in their perfect world.
But Hoff knew the truth. His vision grew blurry and hot. He blinked, trying to clear it, but that just created a smeary red film on top of his ARCs. Blood was running into his eyes. At that, Hoff’s stomach gave a nauseated spasm.
Galan went on, “My partner risked his life to save her so that we could learn more about the rebels, but there wasn’t enough time to slow her fall. Rest-assured, Omnius will get to the bottom of this security breach.”
Hoff shook his head. “It’s not true,” he croaked, but his voice was too soft, and his helmet’s speakers were smashed. Galan stepped sideways, his boot finding Hoff’s hand and grinding his fingers into the bactcrete. Hoff cried out and bit his lip. He got the message, but he didn’t understand it.
Any of it.
As his mind grew hazy and thick with sudden fatigue, he wondered to himself: was this what Omnius had planned all along? Maybe he wanted to keep people like Lena quiet, and he’d decided to let her die.
As Hoff drifted off, he wondered what lie would be made up to explain his death.
Chapter 14
—One Month Later—
Destra awoke with a gasp and a fleeting echo of a searing pain in her chest. Muted, rhythmic beeping sounds filled her ears. She blinked twice quickly, trying to remember what had happened. They’d used Torv’s tunnel to escape the Sythian prison, but they’d run into Sythians and quickly been overrun. The Sythians had shot her twice in the chest.
Destra felt around for a gaping wound or a bandage, but she only found soft, supple skin beneath the sheets and the gown she wore. The pain in her chest was just a hazy memory as if from a dream. But if it had all been a dream, then why wasn’t she waking up back in her cell?
Destra sat up and looked around a brightly-lit room with white walls and floors. In the room with her were five other beds. Three of them were filled. A familiar little girl lay sleeping on the bed beside hers.
Atta! Destra’s heart filled with dread. She wasn’t the only one the Sythians had shot. She swung her feet off the end of the bed and jumped down, taking the bedsheets with her. Kicking herself free, she hurried over to Atta’s side and reached out with a trembling hand to cup her daughter’s cheek.
“Sweetheart?” she whispered.
Atta’s eyes fluttered open and abruptly widened. “Who are you?”
Destra’s eyes blurred with tears. “I’m your mother, don’t you remember me?”
Atta rocked her head from side to side, her eyes wide. “You’re not my mother,” she whispered.
“Oh, Atta… what have they done to you?”
Destra’s eyes traveled quickly around the room, looking for help. There had to be someone who could tell her what had happened. Across from the foot of Atta’s bed a pair of corpse-gray feet hung off the end of another bed.
Torv. From there Destra’s gaze skipped sideways to the bed beside his and she saw Farah’s golden curls splayed out on a pillow.
Everyone from the escape was here, so it hadn’t been a dream. But if she hadn’t dreamed it all… then how was she still alive?
Destra walked over to Torv on unsteady legs. She reached his side only to find that his face was covered with a strange white mask. A bright blue light leaked out around his face.
“What’s going on?” another voice asked.
Destra looked toward the sound and saw Farah sitting up on the adjacent bed.
“Destra? Is that you?” she asked, sounding confused.
First her daughter, now Farah. Did everyone have amnesia?
Destra frowned and turned back to Torv. She gently touched his bare shoulder and shook him, but he didn’t stir. Wondering about the purpose of the mask, Destra slowly peeled back Torv’s sheets, revealing his naked chest. The Gor’s skin was discolored with dark gray patches that she didn’t remember seeing before.
“Careful,” someone else said. “He’s still recovering from his injuries.”
Destra whirled toward the sound. The door on the far side of the room was open and a stranger stood there. He must have come in while her attention was on Torv.
The stranger was a human, not a Sythian. His pale blue eyes contrasted sharply with dark brown skin. He wore a familiar uniform. It was ISSF black with white trim; the colors faded, but still recognizable. Over the man’s left breast was the rank insignia of an ISSF admiral—two gold stars—and above his insignia, was a hollow, six-pointed star formed by two overlapping triangles. Destra recognised that symbol as a Star of Etherus. It marked the admiral as a disciple of Etherianism.
Destra looked up and studied the man’s face with a frown. “Who are you?” she asked, relieved at least that he wasn’t a Sythian.
“I am Therius the Redemptor, Commander of Etheria’s Army.”
Destra shook her head. “Therius the what?”
There came a sharp hiss, followed by another, more familiar figure appearing in the open doorway. Shallah strode in and stopped beside the human man. His utter alienness struck a fierce contrast with the human standing beside him. Translucent, rubbery skin revealed a spider’s web of blue veins in his face that matched the sapphire color of his large, watery eyes. Short horns ran along the vertex of his head and the ridge of his brow.
Destra’s heart pounded steadily in her chest. “What is this?” she asked, walking sideways to put herself between the Sythian leader and her daughter. Shallah’s blue eyes tracked her as she went.
“I apologize for the traumatic experience you all went through,” Therius said, his gaze flicking sideways to glare momentarily at the Sythian standing beside him. “I instructed Shallah to kill you all in a humane way, but he refused to listen.”
“Pain makes us ssstronger,” Shallah hissed.
“Our alliance is still in its infancy,” Therius explained.
Destra blinked, her gaze traveling from Shallah to Therius and back again. “Kill us?”
“Yesss,” Shallah said, sounding amused.
“What alliance?” Farah demanded.
Shallah hissed once more, now turning to Farah. “It is ironic that former enemies must now stand together as allies, is it not?”
“What the frek is going on here?” Farah asked, ignoring the Sythian leader and addressing the human admiral instead. “You’re ISSF. What are you doing allied with Sythians? They’re the enemy in case you forgot.”
Another hiss sounded, but it wasn’t from Shallah. Destra caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Torv ripping off his mask, revealing sunken gray cheeks and a skull-like face. His yellow eyes narrowed and a row of dagger-like teeth flashed as he saw Shallah.
The Sythian replied with a hiss of his own, but his explanation was in Versal. “I killed your people because they could no longer be controlled. You would have done the same to us if you had the chance.”
Torv hissed something else, then he leapt from his bed, his legs churning as he landed. Shallah just looked at him, and Torv stumbled and fell with clear blood streaming from his nose.
“Stop!” Therius commanded.
Shallah gave the human a deadly look.
“We need allies, not enemies. You should have told everyone the truth when you had the chance. If you had, then the Gors would have fought for you willingly. Now all that’s left is to repair the damage.”
“No one speaksss to me that way. Much less a human,” Shallah replied.
“Would you rather be offended by the truth or comforted by a lie?” Therius countered, locking eyes with the Sythian for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Destra watched the exchange curiously, wondering who this human was that he seemed to have enough power to challenge the leader of all the Sythians.
“Torv…” Therius said, waiting for the Gor to catch his breath. He was down on all fours, gasping for air. “We need you and your people’s help. In exchange, I promise that the Gors will be treated as equals, and your matriarch, Shara, will be kept safe. If you agree to fight with us, I will make your people into a powerful nation.”
Torv hissed a reply, and Therius smiled, stepping forward to place a hand on the Gor’s giant shoulder. “The Gors are an honorable people. One day they will be rewarded for it.”
Torv rose to his feet and stood solemn and silent before Therius.
The so-called redemptor turned in a slow circle, taking in everyone in the room. His gaze settled on Farah, and he nodded to her. “Your ship and your crew are waiting for you.”
“My crew?” Farah shook her head. “I don’t…”
“They’ve been in stasis the entire time. We had to clone them, too, but they still don’t know what’s happening. We need to tell them what they’re up against.”
“What are we up against?” Farah asked.
“You already know something about the enemy we face, but not nearly enough.”
“Omnius,” Farah breathed.
The admiral nodded. “He has all of humanity trapped on Avilon, thanks to his Sythians.”
“His Sythians… ?” Farah asked.
Therius nodded. “Omnius created them to give him an excuse to kill and then resurrect everyone on Avilon.”
It took Destra an extra moment to catch up. “What? That’s impossible!”
Therius turned to her, a faint smile on his lips. “You would be surprised how little in this universe is actually impossible. Omnius implanted everyone without their knowledge. He used those cerebral implants to transfer people to clones when they died. Now everyone is on Avilon—including you and your daughter … your husband and son are there, too.”
“Hoff?”
“And Atton.”
How did Therius even know she was married, let alone to whom? “I don’t understand. How can I be on Avilon and here at the same time?”
“How can you be alive at all? The Sythians shot you twice in the chest. You’ve been cloned, Destra. Haven’t you noticed everyone looking at you strangely? Have you had a chance to catch a glimpse of your reflection yet?”
Destra furrowed her brow as a headache pulsed behind her eyes. She turned to look at the glossy white walls and saw a blurry reflection there. Walking up to the nearest wall, she gasped, suddenly realizing why her own daughter didn’t recognize her. She touched her cheeks to make sure they were really hers. The reflection was faint, but still clear enough. She looked twenty again.
“It takes too long to age clones past maturity, and what would be the point?” Therius explained. “But rest assured, you are still the same woman you’ve always been. The only difference is a physical one.”
“I don’t understand,” Destra repeated. Her gaze fell upon the silver Star of Etherus over Therius’s left breast. “You’re an Etherian disciple. Why would you condone cloning? Don’t you believe in an afterlife?”
“It’s hard to argue with cloning when you are already a clone.”
“Then aren’t you afraid that you no longer have a soul?”
“I believe that clones fit
into Etherus’s plans, or else he wouldn’t have allowed us to be cloned in the first place. To believe otherwise is to believe that Omnius could thwart God.”
Destra shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“You will in time. For now all you need to understand is that Etherus has a plan, and we are part of it. The Sythians are not the real enemy; Omnius is, and if we are going to defeat him, then all of us have to stand together and fight. Shallah was also deceived. When he discovered that Omnius had been lying to him, he turned against his master. The truth has that effect on people; it sets them free. Now we have to set everyone else free who is still a captive of Omnius’s lies.”
Destra felt light-headed. Her mouth was so dry that her tongue felt like sandpaper rasping against the roof of her mouth. By contrast, Farah seemed to be following along just fine. Destra saw her bobbing her head as if everything made perfect sense, as if she’d always known. Destra decided to try wrapping her head around one of the smaller mysteries first. “Why go to the trouble of killing us only to clone us back to life?”
Therius regarded her with a smile. “You were still linked to Omnius. Those ties had to be severed. We copied the data from your minds and cloned you in our facilities.”
“But why? You must have brought us back for a reason.” Farah said.
“Of course. You’re going join the fight against Omnius.”
“Where do you come from?” Farah asked.
“I escaped Avilon, and I have been rescuing people from there ever since. We intercept and copy their Lifelink data when they die on Avilon.”
Destra saw Farah’s eyes light up. “There’s a man who came to the Getties before I did. He may have died in orbit around Noctune. Did you… is he still…”
“Alive? You’re talking about Admiral Bretton Hale,” Therius said.
Farah sat suddenly straighter, looking ready to leap from her bed. “He’s alive?”
“Yes, but—”
“Where is he? When can I see him?”
Therius’s eyes darted away, as if he was hiding something, but Farah didn’t appear to notice. “You’ll get to meet him soon.”
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