by Nick Webb
That stopped her. “What?”
“Landing the drop ship, it took something out of you. You hadn’t watched your teams die before. I wondered if you had it in you to lead. And then when the attack on New Beginnings came, you turned around and you made the best choice you had. You sent your friends to die because you needed to—because the Rebellion needed to survive. And that’s when I realized we still had a shot at winning against those bastards—when I realized we had an honest-to-god leader on our hands.”
Walker looked down at the desk. They’d had a funeral ceremony for the crews of the Washington and the Pele. She’d spoken over the radio while the rest of the fleet hung in shocked silence. The stakes hadn’t been real before. They wondered which of them might get sacrificed next, and she got the sense everyone had been a bit relieved when she’d led the Intrepid into Earth’s orbit. King hadn’t said a word about it, and neither had Delaney.
It had never occurred to her that he was proud of what she’d done.
“Was the Dawning the only thing keeping you going then?” Delaney couldn’t hide his contempt now. “Five weeks ago, we didn’t know it existed. We were outmatched then, too—but you weren’t making plans like this.” He stabbed a finger at the desk.
You have no idea. “What do you want me to say?” Walker shook her head at him.
“I want you to explain why you’re taking the chance of nuking the cities we’re supposed to live in when we go back to Earth!”
“I’m going to kill the Telestines.” That was all she was prepared to say. “Do you have a better plan to do that?”
“Biological weapons,” he said promptly. “EMP. Something to take down their computer systems.”
“We don’t have biological weapons, nor the capabilities to research and develop them. Lucky for us, Little-Boy-style uranium nukes are a cinch—we can hit them with a small EMP, at least. But we just don’t have the time to be sitting around researching biological and wasting precious—”
He waved his arms wide. “Then we wait until we do have them! So a few million more die while we wait. Millions have already died. They’ve already lost their shot at Earth. We aren’t trying to help anyone who’s alive right now—we’re playing the long game for all of humanity. Do you even understand that?”
Better than you.
She met his eyes and knew her gaze was cold. “Believe me, I do.”
“Then why the hell are you risking an attack now? You think you’ll get them to pick up and leave?”
“No.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I want to kill enough of them that we can take their defenses out.”
“Misjudge that and you put them right in humanity’s position,” he warned her. “You don’t want them to have nothing to lose. That’s where we are, and it’s what makes us dangerous. It’s supposed to be our edge. Leaving enough of us alive to fight, and to hold grudges—that was their mistake. Let’s not make it ours too.”
Her fingers clenched the desk. For so many years, they had accepted her reasoning. They had gone along with her plans—as they needed to. She saw the patterns no one else did. She saw the picture no one else was willing to see.
And now, at the very end, they were fighting her on it.
She had to be calm. She had to convince them.
“Every generation we wait, we get farther from our memory of what we need to know,” she said quietly. “You still remember aircraft carriers. You remember NASA and … and … frozen yogurt and chewing gum. How many do? How many remember what we had the promise to be before this? We’re living on scraps. If we wait now, we will be crushed. The Rebellion will be gone, and how long will it be until someone revives it? A hundred years? A thousand? We’ll be lucky if we survive another two generations out there on the stations and the Snowballs.”
“We will always fight,” he assured her. His face had softened, though. “Walker, I promise you. That is what humanity is.”
“Humanity is dying,” she told him simply. “There may not be enough of us. Deep down, you know what this is. This was them killing us without killing us. This was them stripping everything away so that, as we died, we couldn’t mount a defense. We need to move now.” While humanity still remembers enough of what it was to grasp at the future that will save us.
He wavered, and before he had a chance to formulate a retort, there was a pounding on the door.
They exchanged a heavy glance, and Walker went to open it. “Yes?”
“There’s a—there’s a—” The communications officer had clearly run all the way from the bridge. “There’s a shuttle leaving Earth,” he managed at last. “Just got a tight beam message from one of our cells in the Rockies. They report that Pike left a day ago.”
A day ago. Relief almost made Walker’s knees buckle. Pike. For five days, she had told herself he was dead. Now she had proof he was a alive. Or rather, was alive a day ago.
She hadn’t planned on it. She had convinced herself he was dead. It was the only way she could go on, and not knowing made a pit open beneath her feet. He was dead, she told herself with one part of her brain, while with the other she told herself that she’d given him the best chance there was to survive. If he was dead, he wasn’t alone on the surface. If he was dead, he wasn’t in danger.
They’d seen the coming and going of a dozen Telestine patrol groups from their vantage point of their hiding place a million kilometers sunward of Earth, washed out by the glare of the sun, and every day the last rays of hope had faded from her mind.
But now....
Now, he was alive. Alive, and with something their source swore could lead them to the Dawning. How it had been saved, she did not know. She did not even know what it was.
It was a chance. She had, on the desk before her, a bloody plan to put her final endgame in motion.
The endgame she’d confided to no one.
But with the Dawning, she had a chance to do the same—and spare the bulk of her forces in the process. Dammit. There was only ever the best choice.
“Deploy the fighters, and tell all ships to spin up. We’ll be making a hard burn for Earth. Exactly how long ago did the shuttle leave?”
“Twenty three hours.” The communications officer was getting his breath back. He slumped against the wall. “It’s out of range of our sensors now, but it was just a shuttle. It didn’t have the range to get anywhere.”
“Any shuttle should have at least that much air. He’ll have taken cover somewhere, behind an asteroid or next to a satellite or something. He’ll know staying there’s the best way for us to find him. Let’s go.”
“Is this safe?” Delaney’s voice was quiet.
“You have two options.” She straightened her top. For the first time in days, she felt like herself. “That shuttle may have the Dawning on it. It’s either this, or the nukes and total war, which, at this point in the construction of the Mercury shipyards, I’m not confident we will win. But as long as the Dawning could be ours, I’m putting my bets on that.”
He met her eyes for one moment before his jaw clenched tight. He nodded once.
“Good.” Her voice was crisp. She held out a hand to haul the communications officer upright. “Come along. We have a weapon to find.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Near Venus
Shuttle
From the rendezvous point, it took two days to get where they were going, wherever that was. With each hour that passed, Pike revised his estimate on the location of their destination. First it was more likely an asteroid, then Venus, then Mercury—or Earth again, for all he knew.
He would have had a better idea if the rendezvous itself hadn’t been so strange. The ship that met them was not only unnamed, flying without transponders, it didn’t appear on their scanners at all until they were almost on top of it. It was a ghost, and Pike, who thought he had seen every invention humanity could dream up, had the horrified thought that this was a Telestine ship.
It didn’t seem to be when th
ey got inside. The furniture was scaled for humans, not Telestines, and every inch of it was gorgeous. Light came from glowing glass orbs. The floors were polished, and there were carpets. Carpets on a spaceship—he’d never seen anything so ridiculous. There were full-sized beds in each of the rooms, made up with silk sheets, and a full spread of food had been set out.
Hell, the artificial gravity felt like a full g. Not like the tenth g most pieced-together human ships had. Telestine artificial gravity tech was a wonder, but terribly energy-intensive. He wondered if there was bacon too, as long as they were dealing with luxuries here.
The luxuries didn’t quite make up for the fact that they were clearly trapped, however. Pike spent the better part of two days pacing around the ship, looking for a way onto the bridge—there was none that he could find, and no one else seemed to be there, but the voice on the comm assured them that all was well, and that in fact he might have found details about the location of the Exile Fleet. In the meantime, they should enjoy the journey. There were books, movies, music.
It made him nervous as hell, though the girl didn’t seem to mind. As Pike made his rounds through the common room, she sat with an ever-growing pile of books. Sometimes she seemed to be looking for something specific, and he would find her poring over books on medicine, history, weaponry. Other times, she’d be curled up with a novel, looking up occasionally to watch him.
Meanwhile, the more Pike thought, the more he was sure he’d made a terrible mistake trusting this person. When at last the ship docked, his whole stomach turned over, and he tried to decide whether or not to hold his gun as the doors of the shuttle bay opened up. In the end, he settled for resting his hand on the grip. They knew he was a Rebellion soldier, after all.
“It’ll be okay,” he said to the girl in an undertone.
From the look she gave him, she didn’t believe him at all.
Well, neither did he.
And then the doors opened, and his grip on the gun tightened by reflex.
A lone figure stood waiting for them. The man’s long black hair held a faint curl, and was drawn back in a low ponytail down his back. His vest was white, as were his loose pants. He was very clearly unarmed, though Pike knew that being unarmed didn’t necessarily mean the man wasn’t dangerous. Indeed, this place probably had enough automated security to vaporize them on the spot.
He glanced past the man, to the windows beyond. They were on one of the floating estates of Venus.
The figure bowed low. “Mr. Pike, welcome. I am Parees. If you would accompany me?” He came up with a faint smile, one arm gesturing to the end of the docking bay.
“Come on.” Pike jerked his head.
The girl gave him a look.
“I don’t like it, either.” He gave a shrug. “But they’ve definitely got the upper hand.”
“Mr. Pike.” The servant’s voice was calm. “This way, please. All will be explained.”
It took effort not to roll his eyes at the inlaid floors as he followed the servant out of the docking bay. Venus was meant to be the height of luxury, but surely no one needed marble on the lower decks.
Doors slid open for them automatically as they walked. The docking bay gave way to a hallway of deep blue, video screens giving the illusion they traveled through the poly-glass tubes in the oceans of Europa. None of the denizens of Venus would actually go to such a dangerous place, of course—but the view was extraordinary.
They must be in one of the cities, not a lone estate. He could hear the crush of humanity vibrating through the metal. Stations were never quiet, even on Venus. It was part of why he’d become a cargo hauler, desperate to escape the pressure and the smell of so many bodies in such a small space. They’d never known anything else.
He’d known Earth, though. Mountains, trees—he immediately banished the painful nostalgia. He’d abandoned his home, again, and thinking about it made it worse.
An elevator decorated with a truly obscene amount of gold filigree awaited them at the end of the hallway.
“It will be only a short journey,” Parees assured them. He swiped his hand over the terminal and stood back as the doors closed.
Pike waited, gritting his teeth at the music. It didn’t matter whether one was in the mines or the most luxurious place in the solar system, apparently—elevator music was just universally terrible.
The doors opened onto a flood of intense golden light. The girl winced.
“Mr. Pike,” the familiar voice greeted them warmly.
Pike squinted into the light, trying to make out anything beyond the blaze.
The figure resolved as they were ushered out of the elevator: a man with short black hair and the light suit favored by the inhabitants of the Venusian estates. Atmosphere could be corrected, but it was always warm here. Sweat was already sliding down Pike’s back.
“It is good to meet you at last.” The man smiled. “I am Nhean.”
Pike said nothing. He could think of nothing to say. The man was greeting him with the warmth of a host, but they had never met—and Pike didn’t have the thing this man so desperately wanted.
Why were they here?
“You will have questions, I think.” Nhean stepped back and gestured to a table laden with food. “Please, eat. Ask. I will answer what I can.” He cocked his head to one side. “And who is this?”
The girl gave him a wordless look before going to the table, almost ostentatiously turning her back. If she had been a soldier, Pike would have known what to make of the gesture: utter contempt for her opponent’s abilities. As it was, he was left to wonder.
Nhean had only smiled at her silence. He looked back to Pike.
“You will surely want for some food as well, yes?” He strolled toward the table at Pike’s side. “Tell me, what questions do you have?”
What the hell is your game? “You said you might have picked up the trail of the fleet. Does the Rebellion know I’m alive?”
“No.” The answer was quick. Nhean’s face carried a trace of regret. “Soon, I promise. You see ... I have some questions to ask of you too, Mr. Pike.”
Nhean paused, and picked up a strawberry from the table. Good god, a strawberry. He popped into his mouth, and smiled.
“Questions, and a favor.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Venus, 49 kilometers above surface
Tang Estate, New Zurich
“A favor?” Pike stared at the man, incredulous.
“Yes.” Nhean met his eyes.
“You’re joking,” Pike said flatly. “You brought me here on a ship worth more than some stations to ask for a favor?”
“Yes.”
“I’m listening.” Pike heard the bitterness grow in his voice. “And please, don’t call it a favor.”
Nhean considered this with a small frown. He seemed surprised by Pike’s frustration, but then, rich people always were. Rich people thought money fixed everything. “What would you call it?”
“You brought us here without any real recourse. You might be pretending we’re friends, but we don’t know each other, and she and I have nowhere else to go. It’s not a favor, it’s an order.”
Nhean looked surprised at that, and Pike wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Rich people were crazy. Or woefully naïve.
His host considered for a long moment before raising his voice to call the servant back from the door.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Pike alone, please. If you’d escort our other guest to her rooms?”
“No,” Pike said flatly.
“Mr. Pike, she will not be harmed. Miss, you are quite safe, I assure you. I must speak to Mr. Pike alone, but I will see you later at dinner.”
“You don’t have to go,” Pike told her.
She considered this, examining Nhean with sharp eyes, and Pike was pleased to see that the man looked uncomfortable under her assessment. Whatever she saw, it was enough. She shrugged and turned on her heel to leave with the servant.
As the d
oor closed, Nhean let out his breath slowly. “That’s the girl you found in the lab? She doesn’t look lab-grown.”
“She isn’t.”
“Mr. Pike—”
“Just Pike.”
“Ah, yes.” Nhean paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was flat. He sounded uncertain, and a bit frustrated. “Here is the whole of it: I’ve been tracking the Dawning since before I knew what, exactly, it did. All I knew at first was that it was important. Very important. There isn’t any foolproof way to intercept Telestine communications, however, and the ones pertaining to the labs operate on an entirely different system than the standard military communications. To be frank with you, it’s not even clear if the two systems are ... allied with one another.”
“How can research and development not be on good terms with the military?”
“What we don’t know about Telestine society is, quite frankly, almost everything.” Nhean met his eyes. “At this juncture, it makes sense to question every assumption we have about them. I don’t know, in fact, if the Dawning was developed by the military, or if it was developed as a check on the military.”
Pike considered this. “Why is it called ‘the Dawning’?”
“Because that’s what I named it.”
Pike did a double take.
“You didn’t think the Telestines would give it a human name, did you?” Nhean’s eye twinkled for fraction of a second. “Its real name is a Telestine word, of course. Dawning is ... well, it’s the closest translation I can make.”
Pike shrugged, and repeated, “So why is it called the Dawning?”
A pause.
“I don’t know, and that worries me.”
Pike considered this as he went to the table. There was some kind of bird there, roasted—a ridiculous extravagance when most meat could be lab-grown. He tried to figure out how to eat it and wondered why he would want to if it was filled with bones. He vaguely remembered a few roasted birds on Earth, long ago, but even then it was a scarce luxury. For Christmas. Once every three years.
