Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  She turned to the technician helping her. “You know how to finish re-installing it and hook up the cabling?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That I can do.”

  “Great. I’ll be back.” She crossed to the soldiers at the doorway. “Take me to the comm room.”

  SPACE, NORTHEAST QUADRANT

  MESSIUM STELLAR SYSTEM

  The blast of an exploding frigate flared in the viewport. In the tiniest of blessings, it was far enough away the shockwave didn’t strain the motion dampeners.

  The Orion along with two frigates under its charge, the Concord and the Provence, continued to fly and shoot. But mostly they ran.

  The ships that remained operational remained so primarily because the battle had evolved into a game of cat and mouse. They ran, the alien vessels chased.

  And for all the firepower of the superdreadnoughts, in the end it would be the damn swarmers that defeated them. Shields withstood their weapons when fired in small quantities, but there were simply too many—

  “Sir, I’m receiving a communication from the ground.”

  Malcolm spun around to the comms station. “Relay it.”

  “It says survivors intend to depart in two shuttles from the capital’s downtown area. They’re requesting the status of any corridors and advice on the safest route.”

  “Tell them no corridors are passable, but if they can get to…” he found and zoomed the planetary map “…N 36.4° E 12.2°, the skies should be free of enemy ships.”

  Only two shuttles. But two beat zero. Someone had been alive down on the planet, and they were escaping, possibly due to the fleet’s efforts. Rychen had earlier reported the three stealth ships were able to recover fifteen survivors near the base.

  Altogether, it was a terribly small victory and yet so far from nothing.

  “They’ve received the instructions, sir, and expect to depart in four minutes.”

  Shuttles wouldn’t be equipped for interstellar travel. They were going to need a ride. He checked the tactical map. The Provence was closer but it had the attention of a dozen or so swarmers. For the moment his ship did not.

  Colonel Jenner: Admiral, we’ve received a communication from survivors groundside. Two shuttles are preparing to flee the planet. I’ve directed the shuttles to a safe exit route and am headed to retrieve them.

  Admiral Rychen: Understood.

  It was a curt reply, but they had all devolved into curt replies. The man was serving as the conductor of a symphony of bedlam and death, his sole tool a badly crippled communications system.

  “Helmsman Paena: set an intercept course for those shuttles. Systems: when we’re within half a megameter, get the shuttle bay door open. I expect we can’t talk to them once they’re in the shuttles, but they’ll get the idea.”

  He hated running from the battle for even a few minutes, but their purpose in coming here was to save people.

  Colonel Jenner: Concord, we’re retrieving a couple of shuttles on the run. Watch our back and distract any swarmers who decide to follow us, would you?

  Lt. Colonel Sanchez (Concord): You got it, sir.

  He had sent the survivors halfway around the surface and the Orion was now fairly distant from the planet. It took eight minutes to reach the shuttles, every second of which he spent examining the maps to confirm they weren’t being followed. A single shot by a single swarmer would vaporize a shuttle, and should they attract a superdreadnought, all bets were off.

  Their angle of approach was such the shuttles never crossed the viewport, but he tracked them on the radar and exhaled in relief when the comm came from the shuttle bay. “Both shuttles safely aboard, sir. We have twelve survivors: nine military, three civilian.”

  “Great job, Sergeant. See that they receive any necessary medical care and food. Paena, get us back to the fleet, but swing us down low beneath the planet. Let’s see if we can’t sneak up on one of those superdreadnoughts.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He returned his attention to the map, scanning for any opportunity he might exploit.

  “Sir, three of the survivors are asking to speak to you. They say it’s urgent.”

  Urgent? They would possess intel on the situation groundside and possibly on the aliens. The fleet was starved for information. “Go ahead and bring them to the bridge.”

  The cruiser was not a small ship, and he had again lost himself in the tactical map when a throat cleared behind him. “Sir, the survivors from the shuttles.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” He turned around to find a lieutenant in filthy BDUs and two civilians who looked as though they’d crawled through a volcano standing before him. “Glad we could reach you—”

  “Malcolm?”

  He jerked a little in surprise—his first name had yet to be uttered on the Orion—and scrutinized the woman more closely. Long tangles of what resembled blond hair, though coated in soot and grime, tumbled from the remnants of a ponytail. Her face appeared no better; aside from the grime, a nasty bruise had darkened beneath her left eye and dried blood streaked along her chin. But….

  “Kennedy Rossi?”

  She laughed; it sounded wild and not remotely like the poised, polished woman he remembered. “What a damn fine coincidence. You got a promotion, I’m guessing?”

  “Lucky me. So—”

  She reached out and grasped his arm. Then presumably remembering she was on a military ship of which he was the commanding officer, she hastily dropped it and stepped back. “Malcolm, you need to know that Alex didn’t have anything to do with the EASC bombing. She—”

  “I do. She’s been cleared. You didn’t—right, you wouldn’t have had exanet access for several days now. It’s all over the news.”

  “Oh, thank god.” She blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “Caleb, too?”

  “The Senecan? Yes. It seems the records were doctored to implicate them.”

  The man standing next to Kennedy whipped around to stare at her. “Wait, you know Caleb?”

  Her face screwed up. “Sort of. You know Caleb?”

  The man looked as though she had offended him somehow. “Yes. He’s the reason I was on Messium in the first place. Sort of—”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but a fairly intense battle is ongoing outside so could we perhaps focus?”

  Kennedy shot the man another odd glance. “Right. Sorry.” She gestured to the others. “Noah Terrage. Lieutenant Shan. We brought pieces of one of the small ships, including some of its internal workings. Shan has excellent readings on their ships including the types of signals they emit. Thanks to him we were also able to get additional information on their quantum field that’s disrupting communications.”

  “Nice work. What’s the situation on the ground? Are there other survivors? Lieutenant, what about HQ?”

  Shan shook his head. “I was at the station in the city when the attack began. We were never able to raise the base on comms. We had significant air presence in the first few hours, but since then…well, there were a lot of explosions over at the base, sir, and we haven’t seen an Alliance ship in the air in a day and a half.”

  Rychen was not going to like the news, though he had to be expecting it. He forced his expression to remain resolute. “Civilian survivors?”

  The sadness in Kennedy’s eyes was all the answer he required. “We crossed six kilometers through downtown, and those with us are the only survivors we found. There were a few people along the way who didn’t make it. I’m not saying people aren’t hiding in basements and such, but the streets are a kill zone. The small ships patrol them constantly. Also, we saw six of the really big ships as we were fleeing.”

  Her shoulders straightened, and a hint of the person he remembered shone through. “Malcolm, we need to get this information to EASC—to people who can study it and determine how to use it against the aliens. And we need to get it to them now.”

  He ran a hand through close-cropped hair. It felt greasy; he hadn’t realized he’d been
sweating and probably for some time. “Give me a few minutes. You can wait in my office—the Sergeant will show you to it.” He gave her a weary smile. “Oh, and Kennedy? I’m glad you made it out okay.”

  Her shoulders sagged in an exaggerated motion. “So am I.”

  As soon as they had stepped away he dropped his hands to the railing and leaned into it. He studied the tactical map for a few seconds, scanned the viewport then commed Rychen.

  Colonel Jenner: Admiral, we successfully retrieved the shuttles. Twelve survivors. They brought physical specimens from one of the small alien ships and data on their functionality. Sir, how many ships have we lost?

  Admiral Rychen: As of thirty seconds ago? Forty-two percent.

  Colonel Jenner: How many of theirs have we taken out?

  Admiral Rychen: Two superdreadnoughts, roughly two hundred of the small ones.

  Colonel Jenner: Damaged?

  Admiral Rychen: Three.

  If it had meant five of eight superdreadnoughts were damaged or destroyed, it would’ve constituted most encouraging news. Unfortunately, shortly into the battle the five superdreadnoughts formerly patrolling the far side of the planet had begun arriving. Obviously the communications jamming was not wholly successful.

  The result was they now faced as many alien vessels as when the battle began and their forces had been slashed nearly in half.

  Colonel Jenner: The survivors report no air activity from the base in more than a day and no appreciable civilian survivors. Sir, we should retreat. We possess intel now which, especially when coupled with what we’ve learned engaging the enemy, may make the difference in future battles. Those who we’ve lost here will have died in vain if we don’t ensure this intel is fully utilized.

  Admiral Rychen: Colonel, we are making headway.

  Colonel Jenner: They report a minimum of six additional superdreadnoughts in-atmosphere.

  Admiral Rychen: Understood. You are authorized to depart. Go directly to Earth. Get this intel into the right hands. That’s an order.

  Colonel Jenner: You gave me this command because I can see the larger picture. We’ve proven to the aliens we can fight back. That we will fight back. We’re going to need these ships and soldiers to do so. We have achieved our short-term goals, but now the sole rational choice is to retreat and save the remainder of the fleet for future operations. Please, sir. We will return.

  The silence continued so long he assumed the link had been cut. Dammit. He didn’t want to abandon the rest of the fleet but—

  The message went out individually to every command group. “All ships, prepare for retreat to the rendezvous coordinates in two minutes. Recall fighters and ready sLume drives.”

  Admiral Rychen: Thank you, Colonel.

  49

  EARTH

  EASC HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  AS SHE HASTENED DOWN THE HALL from one emergency to the next, Miriam spared the fleeting thought that everything was suddenly happening everywhere and all at once. It threatened to cause her head to spin if she slowed long enough to really ponder the ramifications.

  Thankfully she didn’t have the time.

  Major Lange waited outside her office this visit; this visit she appreciated his promptness. He seemed to recognize the import of this task as much as she did, for he brought four appropriately intimidating MPs along with him.

  She acknowledged him with a sharp but not unkind nod. “Major. Is everything in order? You received the arrest authorization?”

  “Yes, ma’am. San Francisco has signed off. I’m ready when you are.”

  “Let’s not waste time then.”

  Technically, she did not need to be present for Liam’s arrest. But she was not going to miss this.

  She hadn’t filed a complaint or told anyone about their altercation; she’d never been a victim a day in her life and didn’t intend to start being one now. She’d intended to bring him down on account of his public misdeeds, for they were sufficiently inexcusable, but it turned out his private ones were oh so very much worse.

  Truth be told she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to learn of his involvement in the Palluda massacre and the larger conspiracy to instigate war with the Federation. Appalled and disgusted to learn he would disgrace the Alliance military in such a horrendous fashion, yes. But not surprised. And it gave her merely the smallest twinge of personal pride that though she possessed an even stronger claim to a personal grudge against Seneca than he, when the call came due she’d worked to bring an end to war rather than initiate one.

  Marcus Aguirre, on the other hand, had shocked the hell out of her. She’d stood in his office days ago and engaged in a contentious conversation with him and hadn’t gotten the slightest inkling. His attitude frustrated her to be sure, but he’d always exuded the bearing of a consummate politician, and in a most skilled manner.

  This though? The lengths to which some would go to increase their power remained beyond her comprehension. Seeking greater clout was one thing, but sending tens of thousands to their deaths in order to achieve it?

  What these people had done lay beyond forgiveness, and she personally hoped no one ever did.

  At least they bore the smallest glint of hope against the aliens now. The Messium offensive, though a loss, had not been a rout. The alien ships were not invincible. Kennedy Rossi and a small contingent of soldiers and civilians made it off Messium carrying new data on the aliens as well as physical specimens.

  At this point each new piece of intel represented a boon. And if events played out as they should, soon she would have only one war to fight.

  O’Connell’s secretary was not at her desk when they arrived. Just as well.

  As head of the Security Bureau, Lange possessed the lock code to the door. After a motion to the MPs he opened it.

  “General Liam O’Connell, you are under arr—”

  The office was empty.

  Lange activated his comm while simultaneously instructing the MPs to begin a search. “Institute an immediate lockdown of all exits. If General O’Connell attempts to leave the premises he is to be detained until MPs arrive. Also, I need the logs of the General’s entries and exits for the past forty-eight hours.”

  The latter request took only seconds. Lange shook his head. “He never came in this morning. How did he know?”

  She had no answer for his question. Fewer than half a dozen people in the Alliance knew of the planned arrests, not counting the four MPs who had found out minutes ago.

  Still, the full extent of the conspiracy and perhaps more importantly of the surveillance tendrils the conspirators had spread throughout the system wasn’t yet known. Though Richard’s source had named the major players involved, likely there were additional low-level participants beholden to O’Connell or Aguirre.

  And if Liam had been warned, then….

  She immediately sent Richard a pulse.

  Aguirre may have been tipped off.

  WASHINGTON, EARTH ALLIANCE HEADQUARTERS

  Richard had only been inside Earth Alliance Headquarters twice before, once as a guest at an exceptionally large banquet and once for an inter-department summit. It might have seemed like a low number, but in truth when it came to the intelligence trade, whether civilian or military, most of the work was conducted and decisions made in Vancouver, Moscow or Hong Kong.

  He strode down the wide hall behind the Minister of Security, because he wasn’t in charge. The honor went to said Minister, Terry Jameson. But he had earned the right to be here—and had been required to give a lengthy and extensive personal report to Jameson before the man agreed to detain Aguirre.

  The exclamations of protests from several aides went ignored by the retinue as they crossed the gleaming atrium into the Executive Suite, then the comparatively enclosed office of the Chief of Staff.

  This wasn’t an arrest. Technically. One doesn’t simply storm in and arrest the Prime Minister of the Earth Alliance government. He would instead be asked to ‘accom
pany them’ to ‘answer some questions’ and ‘clear up some confusion.’

  Nevertheless, only one response would be allowed to the request.

  The priority pulse from Miriam leapt into his vision.

  Aguirre may have been tipped off.

  Hell. He immediately forwarded the pulse to Jameson, though it was now far too late for anything more than an extra degree of alertness.

  They entered the office to find the Prime Minister standing at his desk. An odd, not-at-all composed appearance adorned his drawn features.

  “Prime Minister, we need—”

  “Know that everything I did was for the good of humanity. Know that I tried to save us all.”

  Then Marcus Aguirre brought up the Daemon his hand had concealed beneath the surface of the desk, shoved it in his mouth and pressed the trigger.

  PART IV:

  PARALLAX

  “In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.”

  — Jeanette Winterson

  50

  SAGAN

  INDEPENDENT COLONY

  * * *

  Four Years Earlier

  ALEX DRUMMED HER FINGERS on her thigh while she waited. It wasn’t impatience, as such. More like nervous energy. She was looking forward to this.

  One could argue it was overkill for her to travel all the way to Sagan and pay an ungodly number of credits for the cybernetic upgrades and specialty ware that would enable her to wirelessly access and control the systems in her ship. It was cutting-edge tech but six months past bleeding edge. There were three people on Earth who were capable of providing the service.