The IX

by Andrew P. Weston

  “Would you be kind enough to clarify those remarks?”

  “Certainly. Never forget, I’m a cold-hearted pragmatist. A specialist and a killer, who’s walked the halls of a harsh and bloody reality for more years than I care to remember. I’m trained to spot loose threads and make connections. That’s how I’ve stayed alive for so long in such a violent world. And that’s why I’m positive you’re missing the real issue, even though it appears too fantastic to be true. For example, it’s a fact that two people, separated by what, fifteen, sixteen hundred years, were snatched from the jaws of certain death and brought to the other side of the galaxy at a time and place when their particular gifts were needed. It’s also true they were privy to some pretty distinctive visions, or dreams. Hell, call them hallucinations if you want to. But try as you might, you can’t deny their experiences were too similar in nature to be a coincidence. Especially when you take into account the details of the quest they actually shared together. You know these people. Their characters. Their reputations. They wouldn’t come forward unless they were certain they were right. Why then, are you so ready to dismiss their conviction that the salvation of two different worlds depends on us following a course of action revealed to them by a higher power? Why on earth would they dream up a scenario like that? Why would they then make it even more unbelievable by adding a large dose of the Horde and their damned vortexes into the equation?”

  Mohammed snorted to himself. Nice one, Mac. Because, of course, they wouldn’t dream of making up such hogwash. “So, what threads do you think we’ve missed?”

  “The ones that have been right under your noses all along. For years you’ve fought a losing battle against the Horde. Then we showed up. The ninth intake. Because of us, you got used to the idea of iron as a deterrent. Because of us, the Horde began making repeated attempts to communicate instead of tearing you apart on the spot. And for the first time, because of us, you gained an experienced shaman who could not only make sense of the smorgasbord of cryptic episodes we’ve been inundated with since, but who could also act as a mentor to a hidden diamond within your own ranks. Why the changes? Why now? Why the corresponding visions? Whatever your beliefs, there are just too many fluky events happening left, right, and center to ignore the obvious.

  “I mean, c’mon. Do you seriously think yesterday’s incident out at the mining site was a coincidence? For God’s sake, just think of what our beastly friends had to go through to penetrate the null-point defenses. In an area saturated with iron? In a camp full of heavily armed people, where just one prick of the blood metal would mean instant death?”

  Damn, but that’s a good argument. Mohammed glanced at Saul, trying to gauge his reaction. As usual in situations like this, his closest friend wore the blankest poker face he had ever seen.

  The lieutenant must have caught the brief exchange for he concluded, “If by any chance you’re still undecided, don’t worry. I’ve saved the best for last. I take it you all remember my little experience out at the spaceport? You know, when I led the teams to retrieve the Promulus and Tarion Star?” He waited while the command staff acknowledged his statement. “Have any of you, at any time, stopped to consider this little stunner? How would a mindless monster from another part of the galaxy know to warn us with the example of Pandora? How would it have heard of the name, much less understood the parable behind the story?”

  A tangible shock radiated around the auditorium. Everything went still.

  Stuff me! How did we miss that little doozy?

  Pandemonium erupted, filling the chamber with shouts of support and calls for further debate.

  Mac stood silently amid the chaos, staring directly into Saul’s eyes. Then he turned his attention to Mohammed. Cocking his head to one side, the soldier raised an eyebrow as if mocking them both for their lack of insight. He spun on his heel, and strode away from the circle.

  “Order!” Mohammed shouted, his amplified voice lifting above the din. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, remember where we are.”

  As Mac made his way back up the steps to reclaim his seat next to Jayden Cole, the ruckus subsided.

  Mohammed didn’t miss the repeated backslaps and handshakes Mac received along the way. He’s a popular man. And as sharp as a pin . . . .

  He then remembered to consider his friend’s reaction.

  Saul’s blank expression had been replaced by a wide-eyed look of amazement. Trying to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, Mohammed leaned in and whispered, “I know he’s a hands-on kinda guy, but by God, he’s on the ball. I wouldn’t mind that insight being put to better use on the command staff. You’ve got to admit, he sees things differently than the rest of us.”

  Saul grunted. “You’ve got that right. He damned near took my balls off with that one. We’ll discuss it as soon as this . . . circus is over. I don’t know how many more slaps in the face I can take.”

  “Now don’t get sulky,” Mohammed chided, “you know it wasn’t personal. Not with him. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, and we need his kind of steel to keep us on our toes. Like it or not, that was one hell of a delivery . . . hang on a second.”

  Mohammed noticed a measure of calmness had been restored, so he addressed the room. “The chair thanks Lieutenant McDonald for his most insightful address.” He surveyed the hall once more. “Anyone else? Perhaps someone who is willing to be a little . . . gentler?”

  His attempt at humor worked. Bursts of barely suppressed laughter and a smattering of brief applause resounded around the chamber.

  Three people stood up. Ayria Solram, Stained-With-Blood, and Cathal MacNoimhin. Hello? This might drag on.

  “If the chair wouldn’t mind,” Ayria called out, “we’ve each prepared a very brief statement. Can’t we just say a sentence or two from here?”

  The command team regarded each other before shrugging in agreement. Mohammed replied, “The chair recognizes Ayria Solram, Stained-With-Blood, and Cathal MacNoimhin. If you could please wait a moment for the recorder sentinels to come over to you?”

  An orb materialized over each of their heads. A familiar light radiated down over Ayria first, and the drone declared, “You may speak.”

  “Look,” Ayria began, “I freely admit I haven’t got a clue why I saw the things I did. I just know I experienced them as if they were as real and corporeal as the room we’re in now. I’m a doctor, sworn to save life in any way I can. Perhaps that’s why I’m so adamant we need to listen to what’s been revealed. In fact, I’m utterly convinced we should. Please don’t dismiss the visions just because they’re beyond the realms of normal understanding.”

  She sat back down.

  Eh? She wasn’t kidding when she said they’d be brief.

  The next sentinel introduced Stained-With-Blood. The distinguished old man took his time to survey the crowd before speaking. “Once again I stand before you as spokesman for the First Peoples of the Cree. Although you have little regard for our ways, we know the wisdom of following Napioa’s guidance. If the choice were up to us, we would take the path he has revealed to enlightenment. However, as we now belong to a greater community, we will add our strength to whatever course you deem worthy.”

  Bowing formally, he reclaimed his seat among his fellow chieftains.

  Then it was Cathal MacNoimhin’s turn. After being invested, he said, “The five tribes are united under my lead. We don’t pretend to understand much of the dark deeds and fey tidings that have taken place of late. The only thing we know for certain is the circle. We are born. We live. We fight, and we die. If we die well, our tales will endure through the generations. And we want our names to live forever. So whatever you decide, Alan McDonald, Saul Cameron, we trust you both. The pair of you carry the blood of our descendants in your veins. Your heritage is true. We will fight for you, either way.”

  As Cathal slumped down among his clan leaders, a background hubbub sprang up again. All heads turned toward the raised gallery.

  Saul gestured, a
nd the din petered out almost immediately.

  “It would appear I have a great deal to think about,” he murmured, “and it’s not something I care to rush. But neither can I delay . . . for too long, anyway.” His voice became stronger. “But I’ve always gone with my gut. It’s got me this far, and it’s helped us endure. I see no reason to start doubting it now. My dear friends, we will reconvene at twelve noon tomorrow, at which time I will give you my answer.”

  Saul rose from his seat, nodded briefly to the fellow officers on his command team, and made his way from the hall via a private doorway on the upper tier.

  Mohammed felt unnerved. He’s clearly on edge. I’d better get after him and see if he needs help emptying his decanter. “This meeting has now ended,” he declared. “I’ll see you all before lunch tomorrow. And please, let the commander be. He’s got a lot to weigh up tonight, and the last thing he needs is a stream of constant distractions. If you have any gripes, bring them to me. Understood?”

  Seeing that he had most people’s agreement, Mohammed left by the same exit and rushed to catch up.

  *

  Lingering at the extremities of the Gulf of Tears, Angule cast his mind into the darkest depths of the void once more. Gossamer-light, his touch was refined to a superlative degree, giving no indication whatsoever that anyone was concealed within the overlapping layers of reality. The humans in their tiny settlement on the far side of the chasm went about their business with an urgency that reminded him of insects in a nest. But that was understandable. His last visit had frightened them badly.

  Hopefully, it will motivate them to an appropriate course of action.

  The vext rippled, indicating someone with the appropriate cipher was asking to be let through. Replying with the corresponding pulse, he unlocked the protective wards and watched as the portal solidified, before reforming into a makeshift transport helix.

  A brief throb of energy accompanied the moment spacetime was turned inside out, and Raum materialized before him. No sooner had she manifested than she slammed her shield into place and sealed the rift behind her.

  Her emotions were laced with disgust and fear, an acidity that singed his receptors. Must we meet in such a place, Lega’trix? The discordance of dynamic vitality threatens to desiccate my threshold.

  You know it is necessary, Tribunus, for how else could I have devised a means to penetrate their barriers? The more I learn of the correlation between our matrixes and the iron, the more refined I can make the process, and the swifter our objectives can be achieved.

  But does the proximity of so much bane-metal not unnerve you?

  It disciplines me, young Kresh. Focuses my mind. And as I work to reduce the quantity I need to maintain optimum integrity, it reminds me of what is at stake. And really, who would suspect that rebellion would be fomented here; in the very place our codex could be unmade? Now tell me, did you succeed in your mission?

  I did, Great One. As you suspected, Imperator Vetis and the fools who are swayed by his bravado reacted as you predicted. They are rousing the children of the Trianium as we speak. Soon, the rest of his cabal will arrive to invest the infants with power.

  And who stands with our mighty liege?

  Of the Unium? Lega’trexii Geryan, Jahi, Zuul, and Zagam. Of the Duarium, Tribuni Cayyem, Set, Urium, Desh, and Roth.

  So, Lega’trexii Saffir, Buer, Foroon, Caym, and To’pesh are with us after all?

  Almost, My Lord. To’pesh and Foroon are still undecided.

  Angule bristled, agitated by the cowardice displayed by their newest High Circle members. Gripping Raum within a compulsive matrix, he commanded: Dismiss them from our plans entirely. Unsure of themselves, they play politics at the expense of our future, and cannot be trusted. On no account can they be befriended by any who stand within our covenant. Understood?

  Of course, Lega’trix.

  Suppressing his delight at the taste of conflict, Angule took a moment to reestablish serenity. And what of the enlightened Duarium? Are any among our most recent arrivals infected by a similar reticence?

  Thankfully, no. Tribuni Limun, N’Omicron, and Vual, together with Praefactors Mamone’sh and Orias, are all with us . . . of that I have no doubt.

  The Prime Catalyct of the Unium weighed his options carefully. He came to a decision: Tell our faction to prepare and stand ready. For now, Vetis must think we are all in accord. We will force the issue, but at a time and place of my choosing. Now go, quickly. The hour of release approaches.

  As you command, Great One.

  So relieved was she by the thought of leaving that Raum all but fled the Gulf. After she had gone, Angule returned to his musings.

  Strange, that so great a fate should fall to ones so frail.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Between a Rock and a Hard Place

  As the sun began to set behind the Garnet Mountains, a squadron of brave solar beams persisted in navigating the buttress of intervening summits and valleys. The unblemished vista of endless blue liquidity became infused by a wispy gauze of milk-cream mist. A steady evolution of aquamarine to palest yellow, as if pure honey had been poured along the horizon to sweeten the bitterness of impending night.

  Jayden Cole closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Standing in the open window to her suite, situated in one of the tallest towers of the city, this was her favorite time of the day. She reveled in the sting of the westerly breeze in her nostrils, flowing as it did at this time of year from the distant massif. It always made her feel as if those far-off peaks were blowing her a kiss, and she savored the feather-light exhalation that transformed her exposed skin into a living tapestry of goose bumps.

  She noticed the light caressing her eyelids grow dimmer. Drinking in the panoramic scene once more, she rested her hand against her stomach and studied the sky as it blushed through burnt umber, peach, and lilac contrasts. It appeared to her as if a child of the gods were at play with crayons in the heavens.

  How often we take for granted the simple pleasures set before us each day . . . until it’s too late.

  Smiling, she glanced behind her at the source of her quandary. Mac lay spread-eagled across the width of her bed; his finely-formed butt and chiseled body a testament to hard living.

  I didn’t plan for this. I honestly didn’t.

  Although she’d only known him a short period of time, she felt sure he was the kind of man she could one day come to love and respect. He was kind, patient, considerate, gentle, and always willing to listen. A trait most men found difficult to even contemplate. He always made her feel as if her opinion counted, and that was a very special and rare gift.

  But what to do? Should I allow myself to fall for him, knowing we might only have a few days left, or keep things as they are? He carries such a weight on his shoulders, I don’t want to distract him . . . and yet, he deserves to know.

  He stirred. Somewhere deep inside, he must have sensed he was alone on the bed, for he came awake with a start. Catching sight of her, partially silhouetted against the sunset, he smiled, relaxed, and extended his arms. “C’mon, beautiful, you can’t just stand there in your birthday suit and expect me to do nothing.”

  Oh, Mac. I hope fate gives us a chance. All three of us.

  *

  The door at the rear of the raised gallery opened. Caught in the glare of the brightly lit chamber, Saul Cameron stalled, blinking away his discomfort while he allowed his eyes to adjust. He immediately became aware of a crisscross of chatter from the main floor below. It cut off almost instantly once he was spotted, and the already electric atmosphere ramped up to a whole new level.

  Arrangements had been made to ensure those leaders and section heads that couldn’t be here in person would be linked through by a real-time feed. He was glad to see that several large screens had been set up around the outer edge of the auditorium to facilitate this. They crackled to life as he took his seat, and more than a dozen sentinels assumed their stations at various points around the room.


  Saul had also insisted that his discourse be broadcast live. He wanted to minimize the risk of disruptive rumors harming morale whilst ensuring every department had an appropriate heads-up of any imminent changes.

  Out of habit, he glanced around the huge, U-shaped command tier, looking to exchange greetings with his closest friends and advisors. But, of course, they weren’t up here today, and without his staff about him the area felt vast and lonely. The clock in the ceiling console blinked onto 12:00, and a soft chime announced it was midday.

  Placing an activation crystal into its receptacle, he waited for his notes to load onto the holo-screen and prepared to deliver his verdict.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Thank you all for coming. I know many of you were unable to sleep last night, worrying about what would transpire today. I also understand how opinion has become divided over the past week, due to . . . unforeseen and unexpected interventions from the most remarkable of sources. One of my responsibilities as commander is to keep us all together, bonded into one big happy family. That’s vital, now more than ever, and especially in this place. You know the saying, “United we stand, divided we fall.” Well, I’m not going to let what we’ve worked so hard to achieve be discarded by the wayside. That’s why I made a promise to deliver my decision today, and explain the reasoning behind it.

  “None of us had any choice about being brought here. The specifics of the why and how were entirely beyond our control. But death’s like that. It’s entirely random, and doesn’t extend the courtesy of asking permission before it comes knocking on your door. And the simple fact of the matter is—we’re dead to the folks back home. Never forget that.

  “The transference to Arden wasn’t without conditions, either. The Architect was tasked to choose the best possible candidates to assume a sacred trust. A duty; to care for the dormant seeds of a ruined civilization in the hope of re-genesis at some time in the future. That’s one hell of a responsibility. But we stood up to the challenge, didn’t we?”