by Gary Gibson
More such strikes quickly followed.
The Godkiller began to accelerate in the direction of the outer system, trailed by a wake of offensive drones boosting to catch up with it. Manned Shoal vessels that had been maintaining their distance took advantage, launching yet more drones in their thousands and setting them to chase the Godkiller like jackals running down exhausted prey.
The Emissary vessel was exhausting its fuel in a desperate bid to achieve jump speed, despite serious damage to several of its spines. The Shoal drones came in firing, their particle beams and pulse-lances raking the remaining jump-spines and leaving the target crippled and venting atmosphere. More drones struck fragile plasma conduits and sun-hot energy spilled out, consuming the Godkiller from the inside out. Light blazed from deep within its hull.
But it wasn’t quite over.
A single, unmanned drone equipped with a superluminal drive launched from the Godkiller in the moments just before its destruction. The drone boosted to high relativistic speeds within seconds, skipping past the marauding hunter-killers and out of detectable range, as it jumped out of normal space.
At that time, none of the forces in the system could have guessed where the drone might be heading. But when comms traffic from Night’s End fell abruptly silent several hours later, it didn’t take long to realize what had happened.
Monitoring systems dotted around Ironbloom picked up a sudden gravitic pulse, rapidly triangulating the location, trajectory and speed of a superluminal drone that had materialized barely half an AU out from Night’s End’s sun.
The drone took a few minutes for calibration and navigational checking before initiating a chain reaction deep within its drive, then it briefly slipped back out of normal space. It rematerialized near the star’s core, protected for a few millionths of a second by a shell of exotic energy surrounding it.
The shell collapsed almost at once, reducing the drone to a smear of white-hot plasma and laying bare the n-dimensional discontinuity that had formed within its drive. The discontinuity’s interaction with normal space triggered a runaway phase change, and a sphere of absolute nothingness expanded through the core at the speed of light, tearing it apart and generating a lethal storm of singularities. These spun throughout the star’s convection layer, disrupting billion-year-old heat flows, and sending great spumes of heat and radiation spilling out from the surface and across tens of millions of kilometres.
The star began to shrink, a process that was soon going to end in its destruction.
Priority alerts automatically triggered deep within the navigational complex of a coreship that had only just materialized in the outer reaches of the Night’s End system. The coreship was still busy decelerating, its guidance systems directing it towards a cluster of mining habitats orbiting a gas giant called Bluegas, three light-hours out from Night’s End’s sun.
Lines of communication throughout the system were pushed to capacity as the news leaked out that something was happening to the sun. The neutrino burst caused by the initial phase change had been detected, but its significance was understood only by the Shoal-members dwelling within the coreship’s central ocean.
The coreship changed course, using the gas giant’s gravity to help boost it outwards, as it once more began to accelerate. The drive spines jutting from its surface began the long recharging process, but it was still going to be some time before it would be ready to boost back out of the system.
The Queen of Immortal Light received the first reports of unusual solar activity not long after the first neutrino pulse had been detected.
Senior Court Adviser Dampened Woodsmoke was at hand while the Queen had been resting in an antechamber next to the birthing chamber. She had recently dismissed the court attendants who had been preparing her for a state ceremony – the promotion of a new batch of Hive Administrators – but instead now found herself embroiled in constant communication with a dozen different military, scientific and intelligence specialists scattered across the entire system.
The news was appalling. She had taken an enormous risk by dealing with the Emissaries, and now her entire Hive was going to have to pay a price more terrible than she could possibly have imagined.
She became aware that Woodsmoke was still waiting patiently on the scaffold next to her enormous head.
‘Where are my proxies?’ she demanded. The five royal proxies meant survival for the Hive in some form, if nothing else. She still couldn’t quite believe what her most trusted scientific advisers were now telling her.
‘Four are in the inner system – all except the Scion Amber Rust. She just returned to Night’s End on board a coreship making a scheduled stop.’ Woodsmoke paused before continuing. ‘There are reports that the coreship hasn’t begun its routine deceleration and is blocking all incoming comms traffic. Based on what we know now, it’s almost certainly intending to escape our system before . . . well, before our sun goes nova.’
The Queen stared up at the high windows of her chamber. She had never been able to fly; no Queen could. Their wings were vestigial, even in youth, leaving them utterly dependent on their subjects. The afternoon light cast shadows on the chamber’s pale walls, then darkened briefly as clouds passed in front of the traitorous sun. She could see the peaks of the great Hive Towers of Darkwater, some of which dated from the earliest days of settlement.
All gone, just minutes from now.
‘Nominate the Scion Amber Rust to assume full duties as Queen of Immortal Light, effective immediately – priority transmission and encryption. I also want a separate, equal priority transmission sent to my sister instantly. I ask that, in the name of filial loyalty, she extend the hand of friendship and support to the new ruler of Immortal Light.’ Not that there’s going to be much left for the proxy to rule.
She peered across at her Adviser. ‘You understand how important this is?’
‘I do.’
The Queen watched as the Adviser departed in order to make the final arrangements.
So simple, so quick; the work of millennia undone utterly in a few short hours.
At least she wouldn’t have to mourn for long. Or suffer the knowledge that her sister had won an admittedly pyrrhic victory.
Six hours later, the delicate balance between the star’s energy and its gravitation seesawed out of control, and in a fraction of a second it shrank before releasing almost all of its energy in one single cataclysmic blast.
A second neutrino burst heralded the star’s death. Seven billion years’ worth of stored solar energy was released at once, sending a shockwave of plasma spreading out through the densely populated system at a quarter of the speed of light.
When the star detonated, the coreship was already deep into its gravity slingshot past Bluegas. The crew picked up and intercepted tach-net traffic from inner-system probes and satellites that hadn’t yet been wiped out. From the point of view of the habitats orbiting Bluegas, the sun was as tiny, serene and distant as ever. But their days were numbered regardless.
The coreship’s crew made their calculations: the main shock-wave would reach them in just under twelve hours’ time. They endured a barrage of queries and threats from Bluegas’s orbital habitats; the Bandati there already knew something was happening, but just what, they weren’t being told.
There was no time to decelerate, to rescue any of the inhabitants of those habitats. The time needed to pick up refugees would seal the fate not only of the coreship, but of an onboard population numbering in the millions.
The shockwave reached Ironbloom within a few minutes, superheating the atmosphere on the sunwards-facing side to just shy of a hundred thousand degrees centigrade. Storms of a kind unseen since the planet’s formation ground the Hive Towers of Darkwater to dust, while secondary shockwaves moving at hypersonic speeds spread the destruction to the planet’s night-side, annihilating anything standing more than a few metres above the ground.
Before very long, Ironbloom’s atmosphere was torn away like peel
from an orange. Superheated particles that had once been the towers, mountains, rivers and oceans of Night’s End were caught up in the shockwave and carried further out towards the rest of the dying system.
Further out, the gas giant Dusk was far larger than the rocky inner worlds, and so took a lot longer to die. When its moon, Blackflower, finally emerged from its parent’s shadow, it was burning with a bright incandescence. Hundreds of ships from the cities orbiting the moon tried to escape by driving hard towards the outer system, while staying as long as possible within Dusk’s cone of shadow. But even that was shrinking as the gas giant’s atmosphere was stripped away at an accelerating pace.
The coreship had finished its close pass of Bluegas and was already swinging outwards once more on an arc tangential to the expanding nova. As communications traffic first from Dusk and then from spacecraft and habitats further and further out failed, it became clear that time was running out.
Twelve hours after the nova drone had first torn out the brightly burning heart of Night’s End, the plasma shockwave finally reached Bluegas. Two of its moons, composed primarily of compacted rock and ice, were the first to go; the shockwave’s temperature had dropped exponentially by the time it had travelled this far, but it was still many times hotter than the surface of the star that birthed it.
Bluegas’s densely populated orbital cities winked out of existence one after another, like fireflies coming too close to an open fire. The nearby coreship had barely finished powering up its drive spines when the shockwave reached it a few moments later.
Within a few hours, news of the destruction of an entire, heavily populated system began to spread. Reports, pictures and rumours flooded the open tach-nets. Within the Consortium itself most of the initial stories were dismissed as fabrications, but it wasn’t long before it became clear that communications out of the Night’s End system had come to an abrupt halt.
Details of what had taken place spread along other, less public lines of communication, all the way to the Consortium’s highest administrative levels. Across more than a dozen human worlds, government officials, military strategists and special scientific advisory staff-members were roused from what would be the last peaceful sleep some of them would ever enjoy as the seriousness of what had happened became clearer.
Even so, few were in a position to recognize that this was merely the latest exchange in an ancient conflict – one that had suddenly gained the potential to eradicate the Milky Way of life.
Twenty-nine
‘You’ve suffered severe malnutrition and shock as well as radiation damage,’ Chavez informed him. ‘It’s going to take more than a medbox to fix all that, as well as some of the extensive scarring and—’
Corso dropped the data-sheet onto the bed beside him and let his head fall back, taking in the rest of the medical bay. ‘I already said I want to keep the scars,’ he told the medician. ‘Including the ones on my face.’
Chavez gave him a doubtful look. He still looked young to Corso, but he’d learned that the medician had been through an ordeal nearly as bad as his own aboard the orbital station at Leviathan’s Fall. Almost the entire Consortium expeditionary force that had boarded the Bandati colony was now dead, including General Hua. The sole surviving Consortium frigate in Ocean’s Deep had taken a severe battering during the fighting, and its crew was lucky to be alive. They were all lucky to be alive.
‘Is this some kind of Freeholder warrior thing?’ Chavez asked.
‘It’s a reminder, to make sure I don’t make any more really stupid mistakes.’
He could hear voices – orders barked and random conversations, dopplering up and down the corridor extending beyond the door behind Chavez – from the crew of the Casseia Andris, now docked with the Leviathan’s Fall station.
‘People keep asking . . .’ the medician paused.
‘If this is about Dakota or Nova Arctis, you know I’m not allowed to talk about it,’ Corso pointed out gently.
The medician’s face reddened slightly. ‘Sure. Of course. But there’s so many rumours flying around.’ He shrugged. ‘Stories you hear.’
Corso wondered briefly how much money the medician had been offered. They were stranded light-years from the nearest inhabited star system, but the Casseia Andris ’s tach-net transceivers still allowed for zero-lag communications with the Consortium Legislate.
Perhaps inevitably, there had been a leak.
The Shoal had departed Ocean’s Deep as suddenly as they had appeared, shortly after the destruction of the station ring holding the Magi ship. The Emissary Godkiller had been reduced to a burned-out ruin, drifting cold and silent through the outer system.
That there was a human presence in a star system well outside of the known Shoal trade routes was now apparently an open secret. The Legislate was being hammered with questions from every world within the Consortium, and every tach-net-linked media agency in existence. And when the Legislate refused to supply adequate answers, a thousand conspiracy theories sprang up to take the place of hard facts. A man like Chavez here stood to make a fortune by throwing just a little light on what was really going on. Whether he’d ever get home to spend it was another question.
And on top of all that, there were the two Magi ships now within the system. The first one had briefly disappeared at first, jumping out of normal space after boosting away from Leviathan’s Fall, before returning less than a day later. And then a second Magi ship had appeared from out of nowhere, rapidly taking up orbit around Leviathan’s Fall.
Chavez started, his eyes focusing on some unseen horizon in the way people did when they were receiving a communication. ‘I have to go,’ he said a moment later. ‘If there’s anything you need—’
You could try not locking me in here like I’m a prisoner, Corso thought. He was constantly being assured that this was only a matter of security, and that he wasn’t under arrest. And yet, the fact remained that the door stayed locked.
Instead he muttered, ‘I’ll be fine.’
And then he was alone.
He picked up the data-sheet once more and reread the words he’d been dictating when Chavez had interrupted.
I knew I wasgoing to die the day we went to Fire Lake to meet Bull Northcutt.
That didn’t feel right.
He cleared the screen and dictated a new sentence: We drove over the crest of Fire Lake on our way to meet Bull Northcutt.
Still not right.
He put the sheet down with a sigh.
The last thing he remembered, he’d crawled inside the Piri Reis, severely wounded and bleeding to death. But when the Piri Reis had been recovered, floating free and vacuum-breached, and in a decaying orbit around Leviathan’s Fall, they’d found him sealed into the ship’s medbox – one of the few systems still functioning on board the tiny vessel.
Maybe he’d crawled inside the thing himself, and just couldn’t remember. It was possible – but he didn’t believe it.
Something caught his attention from out of the corner of his eye. He glanced back down at the data-sheet and saw new words appearing just below the words he’d dictated.
HELLO LUCAS. ARE YOU RECEIVING VISITORS? – DAK
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he whispered.
Then he heard a commotion in the corridor beyond the medical bay. An alarm started wailing somewhere nearby. Even the damned lights flickered like there’d been a power surge – or a hit on the ship. He pushed his blankets away and stood up, carefully, unconsciously pulling his injured arm in close to his belly as he walked over to the door.
To his surprise, it slid open without any problem. The last half-dozen times he’d tried, it had stayed resolutely shut. It revealed a wide passageway decorated in the silver-and-blue livery of the Consortium Defence Forces. Chavez was standing opposite, staring at a set of pressure doors at the far end of the corridor. A trooper seated nearby, clearly left there to guard Corso, was gaping in the same direction with as much confusion as Chavez.
Chavez started when he realized the door to the medical bay was now open. The alarm stopped, leaving a ringing silence, and the pressure doors slid open. A Defence Forces Colonel came striding in fast, barking orders at Corso’s guard.
Dakota stepped in right behind the Colonel, looking as relaxed as if taking a stroll on a sunny day. Behind her, maintaining what Corso could only regard as a cautious distance, followed at least a dozen more troopers in matt-grey armour, their weapons held at the ready.
Pandemonium instantly ensued.
Everyone seemed to be shouting at everyone else. Chavez began heatedly berating the Colonel, who was divided between shouting back at the medic and at the trooper set to guard Corso.
Dakota walked past all three of them and gestured towards the interior of the medical bay behind Corso.
‘Let’s talk,’ she said.
‘Nobody’s going to bother us,’ Dakota reassured him, hopping up onto the side of Corso’s bed with one leg dangling. He stood with his back to the closed door, and could still hear the Colonel arguing with Chavez.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Corso demanded, finally finding his voice. ‘All I get asked is What does she want, What does she want, like I’m your fucking spokesperson. I . . . I . . .’
He trailed off and she smiled. He realized she looked happier and healthier than at any time since he’d first met her.
‘I just got back from negotiations with Colonel Leidner,’ she told him. ‘I get the impression they’ve been keeping you very much in the dark all this time.’
Assuming that Leidner had been put in charge of the surviving Consortium forces following Hua’s death, Corso shrugged non-committally and flopped into the visitor’s chair. ‘You could say that. So they just let you walk in here?’
‘Once I demonstrated to them how easily I could take control of this ship, yes.’
