Warriors from the past, present, and future
fight to save us all.
Arden, home to a culture that has existed for thousands of years and which spans dozens of worlds. Regardless, their sophistication cannot prevent calamity at the hands of an unstoppable nemesis. Known only as the Horde, this enemy has proven relentless. They have not only stripped the outer colonies bare but now threaten the existence of the entire Ardenese way of life.
Realizing there is nothing they can do to prevent the inevitable march toward extinction, the Ardenese governing body comes to a drastic decision. They gather together at their capital city, Rhomane, and place their remaining genetic heritage in a vast underground ark, in the care of an advanced AI construct called the Architect.
Its mission? To use Rhomane’s dwindling reserves and safeguard their race by reaching out across time and space toward those who might be in a position to help reseed a devastated world at some time in the future.
Soldiers from varying eras and vastly different backgrounds are snatched away from Earth at the moment of their passing and transported to the far side of the galaxy. Thinking they have been granted a reprieve, their relief turns to horror when they discover they face a stark ultimatum:
Fight or die.
Despite overwhelming odds, this group of misfits manages to turn the tide against a relentless foe, only to discover the true cost of victory might exact a price they are unwilling to pay.
If you like your science fiction to include fast paced, gritty, realistic action and dark humor in the face of overwhelming odds, then The IX is definitely an adventure for you.
“The author deftly weaves the horrors of the Horde stealing human life-essences, with the beauty of his prose and imagery. I was right there, on Arden, while reading. Action-packed through every chapter, the story unfolds as former enemies are forced to learn how to trust each other, to trust the visions and experiences of those who walk the spirit-world, and to share information. I highly recommend this book to fans of SF, horror, and fantasy.”
— Ann Stolinsky, Amazing Stories
AmazingStoriesMag.com
“Weston's mix of history, metaphysics and real science ventures into territory not often explored in science fiction. What happened to the IX Legion of ancient Rome? Find out here, where Past, Present and Future are masterfully blended in an epic novel that takes classic elements to new heights. Weston has a true gift for superb storytelling and memorable characters. This one is not to be missed.”
— Joe Bonadonna, author of Mad Shadows:
The Weird Tales of Dorgo the Dowser, Three Against The Stars
Perseid Press
P. O. Box 584, Centerville, MA 02632
The IX
Copyright © Andrew P. Weston
First Perseid Press Edition, 2015
First Perseid Pres Kindle Edition, 2015
First Perseid Press ePub Edition, 2015
The Perseid Press
P.O. Box 584, Centerville, MA 02632
A Perseid Press Original
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Cover art: Roy Mauritsen
Map image: Andrew P. Weston, Roy Mauritsen
Cover image © Perseid Press 2015
Cover design: Roy Mauritsen
Book design: Sarah Hulcy
eBook design: Mikey Brooks
Trade Paperback edition: ISBN 13-978-0-9864140-0-8, ISBN 10-098641400X
Kindle Digital edition: ISBN 13-978-0-9864140-1-5, ISBN 10-0986414018
ePub Digital edition: ISBN 13-978-0-9864140-2-2, ISBN 10-0986414026
DEDICATION
“I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country.”
— Captain Nathan Hale
(June 6, 1755 - September 22, 1776)
Dedicated to our veterans who faced the ultimate choice.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Acknowledgement
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
To the team at Perseid Press, who embraced a simple idea,
and turned it into something awesome.
PROLOGUE
For as far as his eye could see, the endless tide of rabid hunger continued to advance. They came pouring into the valley from all sides, and the entire basin was soon filled with seething, shrieking monstrosities of every conceivable shape and form. Not one of them stood under two decans in height.
Nearing their goal, the leading entities of the Horde howled with malice and leaped forward. Dashing their bodies against the augmented might of the battlements seemed pointless to Sariff, for the attackers achieved nothing but to spend their vitality in a blaze of explosive fury. Yet the utter futility resulting from their lack of imagination did nothing to lessen their frenzy. Despite their comrades’ fate, wave after wave of them continued throwing themselves to their deaths in wanton abandon. So great did the overwhelming press of shadow and flame become that the repeated detonations of each attacker’s self immolation grew into one prolonged cacophony of light and heat. Despite its density, the entire breadth of the wall thrummed under the weight of the assault.
And still they come. Sariff blanched in the face of the onslaught, witnessed here on Arden for the first time. As First Magister of Rhomane City, he seized the opportunity to study the enemy closely, for his would be the deciding vote in a decision that would seal the fate of their people.
He shook his head in disbelief, for he could see no respite from the relentless storm threatening to engulf them. Thirty planets overrun in the space of just fifteen months. More than fifty billion souls lost. A history and a culture spanning more than twelve thousand years brought to this. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. And we risk it all on an idea . . .
What choice do we have?
Everywhere he look
ed, Sariff saw only the inevitability of death. Unless, by some miracle, Calen’s gamble paid off. That thought reminded him. I’d better get a move on.
So mesmerized was he by the display of savagery below, he almost collided with the duty commander, Sol Beren. Sariff hadn’t heard the soldier’s silent approach, but that was understandable. The veteran warrior was a skilled tracker, renowned for keeping his men on their toes by his sudden, wraithlike appearances at different stations along the wall. Everyone marveled how he could be seen taking the lead at one post only to be spotted minutes later on the other side of the city entirely, without having used the transport pads.
His face a mask of determination, Beren studied the conflict before him. A cold and empty gaze reflected the bitter frustrations of a man who had seen too many men die worthless deaths. Sariff wished there was something he could say to ease the commander’s burden. Instead, all he could ask was: “Will it hold?”
“Oh, it’ll hold all right.” Beren brushed the smooth texture of the defenses with his fingertips. “For now at any rate. It’s pure lydium, the densest known material in existence. A marvel of technological adaptation.” He glanced down again and almost to himself whispered, “It has to hold . . . .”
Sariff caught the hint of helpless acceptance in Beren’s voice. He thinks we’re doomed. Closing his ears to the baying howls of myriad atrocities, Sariff nodded stiffly, entered the portal and was instantly snatched from the reverberating terror of battle. Materializing moments later to deafening silence, he stepped down from the teleport dais and hastened into the sanctuary’s hushed interior.
Despite the emergency, no guards were posted. In their encounters thus far, the Horde appeared unable to use the matter transporters. Whether it was due to their biophysical properties or simple lack of understanding wasn’t known. Regardless, it was looked on as a blessing. And as this location had been positioned within a tear in the very fabric of reality, it was felt additional security was unnecessary, especially as the soldiers were needed at the wall.
That fact did little to stifle Sariff’s growing unease.
Automated sensors tracked his progress toward the Archive-Architect, a self aware AI construct of stunning complexity and one of their greatest achievements. If all went well, it would also serve as their last bastion of hope against total extinction.
If all goes well.
Snorting at that unlikely outcome, Sariff paused before a concealed entrance and allowed himself to be scanned. Within moments an archway appeared, etched within a glowing framework of light. As it solidified, hidden doors glided back into invisible recesses on either side. A sentinel appeared in midair before Sariff. Looking much like a tiny, concentrated ball of plasma it thrummed with power, and the crisp, cheery voice of the Architect rang from it. “Welcome, First Magister Sariff. Chancellor Calen awaits you within. You will find him completing the final calculations required to activate the Ark.”
Of course I will, he never leaves anything to chance. Aloud Sariff replied, “Thank you, Architect. Is he alone?”
“Yes, First Magister. The rest of the Senatum await you both within the council chambers.”
“I see. Please advise them we will be there shortly. One way or another, this issue must be decided today.”
“Certainly.” The glowing sprite winked away, leaving Sariff alone to ponder the unenviable choice he faced.
But what will I decide? Shaking off the doubt still threatening to cloud his judgment, Sariff crossed into the inner sanctum. As the doors closed behind him, he swore he could hear faint cries from the conflict over a league above, filtering down through the intervening layers of rock. Suppressing a shiver, he quickened his pace, almost running the rest of the way along the arterial corridor.
Calen looked up from his work as Sariff burst into the control room. A look of mild amusement creased the scientist’s face. “In a hurry, Sariff?”
Ignoring the jibe, Sariff cast one last glance over his shoulder and threw himself into the nearest available chair. “I just want this matter resolved.” Using the back of his sleeve, he wiped the perspiration from his brow.
Adopting a more serious mien, Calen stood and made his way around to the other side of the console. Sitting back across the desk, he crossed his arms. “Well, that decision now lies with you, old friend. Remember, the Senatum is tied. Your vote will decide whether we fight to the last man or—”
“Or put trust in your schemes,” Sariff cut in.
Looking past his friend, Sariff had to admit the Ark was an impressive concept. He and Calen sat at the top of a borehole that cut straight down for over two leagues through the planet’s substrata. Within that shaft, millions upon millions of genetic samples had been placed in storage. Preserved for a future time when they could be automatically released into a safe and sterile environment to reseed a ravaged world. The only part that stuck in his craw was the fact that none of the Ardenese would be there to actually see it. Their culture would be embryonic; they would have to crawl their way back to the stars all over again. Furthermore, they’d have to rely on outside help for the plan to stand any chance of success.
Struggling to quell his doubts, Sariff asked, “Are you sure this strategy of yours will work?”
“I’m positive. It’s our only real option.,” Activating one of the groundside monitors, the scientist brought the full horror of the siege to bear. “Look at them, Sariff. Just look at them. When we unearthed their hibernation grounds, waking them from slumber, how could we know what we’d unleash on the galaxy?”
They watched silently as the devastating crush continued. Nightmare apparitions in a million different guises continued to expend themselves against the wall without thought or remorse. So driven were they by their urge to feed on life force that they appeared lost to any other consideration.
Calen nodded toward the screen. “Three of the outer colonies fell before we even realized the extent of the danger. A further five when they sent rescue ships. Then ten more when they responded to calls for assistance. We never contemplated the possibility we would ever meet a force sufficient to overwhelm us. Why would we, considering all we have achieved? Our science. Our might. Yet one by one our settlements fell. And each life lost provided our enemies the puissance they needed to overwhelm us.
“Stripping everything of life, the Horde allowed the survivors to flee. In our arrogance, little did we realize the danger. Hiding away among our refugees, the Horde gradually worked its way here, to the richest feeding ground of our civilization. And now, of the eight billion souls once filling Arden with life, only eighty thousand remain, trapped within this city’s confining walls.”
Turning to face his friend, Calen concluded, “If we continue to fight, there will be nothing left. They have followed us here, to home world, and here they must stay. In denying them the opportunity to spread, we consolidate our only real hope for the future.”
Sariff’s face was pale. “So it’s only a matter of time before they breach our defenses and consume us all?”
“As dense as it is, I fear the lydium simply won’t hold. Oh, it may take millennia, but one day those fiends will find a way to negate the electron instability, and when they do . . .” As an afterthought, Calen added, “Of course, without access to supplies or transport, we’ll all be dead long before that. So, we’ve got to make sure we employ an alternate, more radical option, yes?”
“The gateway and the Ark?”
“The gateway and the Ark. I know many will view it as a defeat, Sariff, but my strategy will preserve the seeds of our culture intact . . . And even bless it.”
Sariff sat forward. “Remind me again how it will work?”
“Come and see.” Calen invited the magister across to a larger console and activated a wall screen. An overview of the entire facility bloomed into view, reminding Sariff just how immense the structure was. Constructed from the same fermionic matter as the walls, the Archive existed within a fabricated tear in space-time. Term
ed rip-space, there was only one way in and one way out. Manipulating the controls, Calen zoomed in on a vast chamber occupying almost the entire bottom floor.
Enlarging the interior of that vault, Calen said, “Following my successful adaptation of the rip-space theorem, I wondered what might happen if I phased the targeting nodes through the DNA buffer of the Ark, and meshed them with the harmonics of the shield. After all, if we’re going to make this grand gesture to deny the Horde, we still need to be able to attract the right caliber of assistance. Look what the test runs revealed.”
He let the simulation run.
Sariff watched as the drama played out. Each time the artificial singularity coalesced, it tore a void through the fabric of subspace, and the telltale corona of a stable wormhole appeared. Even though he wasn’t a scientist, Sariff had witnessed the spectacle often enough to understand what he was looking at. He recognized what Calen was alluding to, for he could plainly see something that shouldn’t be there within the swirling vortex. Every time a link was established, an additional skein of energy materialized, lining the inner fabric of the quantum tunnel itself.
“What’s that?” he gasped, intrigued by the sight of the unexpected phenomenon.
“That,” Calen replied, “is what might save us.” Amplifying the area of the event horizon, he continued, “As you noticed, each time we activate the portal, we manage to generate a stable tunnel. It leads to the same place. However, that sub matrix you’re seeing within the bore, the one shimmering through all the colors of the rainbow, that’s something else entirely.”
“What do you mean? Does it go somewhere else?”
“Not somewhere else, Sariff. Somewhen.”
“What?”
“It’s an unexpected chronological or time-related component, which I think has been added by what I call the death factor.”
The IX Page 1
