The IX

by Andrew P. Weston

  A multitude of heads nodded in agreement, for in this, Saul knew they were united.

  He continued, “How we failed in the past, and how we’re managing now—especially since the arrival of the ninth—are some of the aspects I considered. Obviously, in recent months, new doors of opportunity have been opened to us, affording us all sorts of benefits we’ve never had the luxury of enjoying before. It’s been no easy task, because along with the mundane, everyday strides forward we’ve made, there have been other elements I had to take into account. Strange, unexplainable things that stretch the bounds of reason. It put a lot of pressure on me, I can tell you, and the urge to drain my decanter was always there. But you’ll be glad to know I managed to abstain.”

  A swell of laughter broke out, especially among those who knew Saul and his habits well.

  “However, it saddens me to tell you I can’t say the same for Mohammed.” He smiled. “He is sleeping off a case of bathmat tongue as I speak.”

  The outburst grew louder, and spread to the furthest corners of the hall.

  Relieved his gamble at humor had paid off, Saul risked a smile in return and raised his hand for order.

  Once peace was restored, he said, “Although I’ve lightened the mood a little by sharing a joke with you, I assure you, I didn’t treat the issue before me with the same frivolity. Despite what some here might think, I listened to what everyone had to say. I’ve been up all night, running through mission reports with the sentinels and the Architect’s avatars to obtain as full a picture as possible. We scrutinized the ancient histories, and pored over past clashes with the Horde from every conceivable angle. I also took into account some of the more . . . unusual encounters a number of you have experienced. I felt it only fair to be as accurate as possible in weighing the risks against the rewards, and the dangers against our long-term hopes for survival.

  “In the end, I realized I didn’t really have a choice at all. I never did. Because of my position, I have to err on the side of caution at all times. You could say, I’m not allowed to have a personal opinion. In the same regard, being popular is not my priority, either. Your welfare and safety is. And when it comes down to it, I’ve been forced into a no-win situation, because even though I’m trying to safeguard your future, I’ve had to make a choice that will upset a lot of people. For that, I’m sorry. But when it boils down to it, we come first. Arden, despite all she’s done for us in extending an opportunity of life, comes second. And the Horde? Well, they don’t even enter the equation. Again, I apologize if that sounds harsh, but we were granted a reprieve from death that I don’t intend to squander on flights of fancy or what-might-have-been. So, to my answer . . .”

  The mood within the room intensified. Without realizing it, most people held their breath, and Saul could see many of them hunch forward on their seats in anticipation.

  Stay positive, Saul. Stay strong. “We have a huge range of weaponry and technology at our disposal. Until now, it’s been mostly redundant because it’s ineffective against the Horde. That would change if they were no longer a problem. Thankfully, due to the safe arrival of the first shipment from the Shilette Abyss, we are abundantly provisioned with iron. More than enough for what I have in mind. And what is that?

  “Our settlements throughout the region of the Forest of Tar’e-esh will be abandoned immediately and selected stores and equipment will be relocated to Rhomane over the next month. Personnel will be assigned to new departments. Some here, others up at the astrometrics facility at Boleni Heights, which will be held a little longer to allow us to put the next stage of my proposal into action. You are now on notice, people. We’re leaving!

  “Don’t worry, Ephraim,” Saul added, flashing his scientific advisor a brief smile, “Earth is not an option. As you and others have correctly highlighted, we cannot take the chance of inducing a butterfly effect, or any form of paradox for that matter. Multiple universe theories aside, the mere fact we never met ourselves in the past doesn’t guarantee we won’t screw things up if we’re not very careful. So, although we can’t go home, we can use the Promulus, Tarion Star, and once we get our hands on her, the Arch of Winter.

  “Don’t forget, we also have access to the entire sum of the Architect’s memory, too. That database will be downloaded and utilized to see us to a new home, wherever that may be. Now let me assure you. From what I’ve seen, the archive is extensive, and there are a lot of choices out there. Quite a few of the Ardenese outposts remained untouched during the Fall, because they were evacuated prior to Horde infestation. With the help of the Architect, I’ve selected a number of possible candidates, and will hold an appropriate meeting within the next few days to determine a prioritized wish-list. Obviously, it will mean we have to start all over again. But we’ve done that before. This time we will have the resources of the cruiser to assist us, and of course, whatever other Tec we can fit into the hangar. Then, once we arrive at our selected destination, we will utilize the full manifest of the planet’s redundant infrastructure. It’s not going to be easy. But at least we will be free of the constant threat of death, for it is my intention to destroy all remaining ships from orbit. Now, I know some of the Horde might survive that attack, but I don’t really care. We’ll be long gone. They’ll be stuck here, forever.”

  Standing, Saul concluded, “That just about sums everything up. This verdict has been recorded and will be available for download within the next five minutes. As you appreciate, I won’t be taking questions at this time, but you can pass on any queries or concerns you have via your appropriate command representative. Thank you.”

  As swiftly as he could, Saul made his way from the gallery and into the soothing gloom of the transitory corridor.

  As he stalked toward his office, he promised himself, Now it’s my turn to put a dent in that decanter.

  *

  Ayria Solram entered the counseling suite, nodded to the duty nurse, and made her way toward the private unit at the back of the ward. At her request, this was the only area in the entire city where the televised discourse by Saul Cameron hadn’t been broadcast. James Houston’s temperament was fragile at best, volatile at worst, and she hadn’t wanted to take the risk of him flipping out over anything the commander might say.

  Just as well, really. Since the arrival of the Promulus and Tarion Star, he’s become more and more unstable. It’s such a shame I had to recommit him, but he detests the thought of anyone going near those darn ships. God only knows what would have happened if he’d been allowed to listen in to the announcement on his own.

  Grudgingly, she admitted, Of course, I can guess how he’s going to react now, when I inform him of the result. Still, the news will be better coming from me than anyone else.

  Rapping smartly on the door, Ayria fortified her resolve with a deep breath and entered the room. Houston was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees and rocking backward and forward. He appeared quite calm, and was obviously fixated upon a feature playing on a wall mounted TV. As she approached him, a snippet from the clip intruded on the threshold of her perception.

  “. . . Appearing from rip-space only seventy decans from the city wall, its pilots were helpless to prevent the inevitable catastrophe . . .”

  “Hi there,” she said. “It didn’t go well, I’m afraid. But then again, I didn’t expect it to. I know Commander Cameron has to balance the needs of . . . James, can you hear me?” He hasn’t even registered my presence.

  With infinite slowness, Houston reached to one side and picked up a remote control. Pressing a button, he allowed whatever he was watching to air again. Viewing it from the beginning, Ayria recognized the bulletin immediately.

  “That was the awful moment when the Shivan-Estre met her end. For reasons as yet unknown, her navigational beacon malfunctioned. Appearing from rip-space only seventy decans from the city wall, her pilots were helpless to prevent the inevitable catastrophe.

  As with all such vessels, the Shivan-Estre was constructed of super-de
nse lydium. If not for the fact that Rhomane’s own precincts are made of that same fermionic matter, the results would have been far worse than the death of the two crewmen on board and a bright light in the sky. We are going live now to . . .”

  “James?” she repeated. “Why are you watching something so sad? You know it’ll only upset you.”

  “Can you hear it?” he drawled, turning toward her at last. “There’s something profoundly wrong with . . . the scale and pitch. They’re not right. It . . .”

  She noticed his pupils were unusually dilated, and he appeared to be dribbling uncontrollably from one corner of his mouth. This can’t be right?

  Annoyed, she snatched his chart from the counter and checked his medication.

  “We’re being warned, you know,” Houston continued to mumble. “It . . . This is a portent of what will happen if we . . . if I don’t . . .”

  For goodness’ sake! No wonder he’s away with the fairies. That’s double the amount of prozetapan I prescribed.

  Sitting beside him on the bed, Ayria removed the control from his grasp and cupped his hand within her own. Speaking softly, she said, “Now don’t you go getting yourself all worked up. It’ll all be over soon. I’ve come to tell you that we’re getting away from here. We’ll be leaving the Horde and the city behind, and all our worries along with it.”

  Something she said hooked his attention. “Really?” He gasped in relief. “Good. Excellent. It’s the only way we can be . . . safe.”

  “Yes, I know. Commander Cameron said that over the next month, we’re going to pack our bags, and—”

  “How?” The sudden tension in Houston’s voice was a stark contrast to his relaxed nature only moments before.

  “I’m sorry?” Ayria sat back in shock. Then she noticed the piercing lucidity blazing in his eyes.

  “How exactly does the commander expect us to flee? Where on this planet does he think it’s going to be safe?”

  “We’re not staying on the planet,” she replied, edging further from him, “we’ve discovered a huge cruiser in orbit, the Arch of Winter. It’s free of infestation and we’re going to use her to travel to—”

  “No! No! No!”

  Aghast, Ayria backed away toward the door and scrabbled for the emergency button. The change in Houston was frightening. His eyes bulged. The veins on his temples protruded alarmingly. His entire face turned red and the cords on his neck stood out like they would snap at any moment.

  Squeezing his temples, he groaned, “You can’t. For the love of God, Ayria, you’ve got to stop them. I’d rather die than be trapped again.”

  Again? Baffled, she froze on the spot. “James? What are you talking about?”

  “Please. You can’t . . . aaargh!”

  Gripped by a violent seizure, Houston doubled over and thrashed about on the bed. To Ayria, it appeared as if he were fighting off invisible assailants. After a few moments, the mad spasms stopped. Sitting bolt upright, he screamed, “Doctor! Help me. Quickly. It’s got me . . . I’m trapped in my own . . . nnngh!”

  Houston caught his breath and experienced another fit. This time, his entire body went rigid, arching up as if he were being electrocuted. Just as she thought his spine might snap, he let out a huge whoosh of air and slumped back down on the bed, exhausted.

  “Do you need a hand here?”

  Ayria jumped, startled by the unexpected voice behind her. Spinning, she discovered Lieutenant McDonald standing in the doorway.

  “Mac,” she gushed, “thank goodness.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  Ayria turned to assess Houston’s condition. Although bathed in sweat, he now appeared completely relaxed again, and under the influence of his medication.

  What on earth is going on inside his head? Aloud, she replied, “Just another day in the personal hell that is James Houston’s sanity, it would appear.” Shrugging, she went to physically check on her patient. “I didn’t hear you come in. But thanks for backing me up. It got scary there for a moment.”

  “I’m sorry I surprised you. But I must confess, I didn’t know you were here. I came for another reason. Now our proposals have been officially kicked into touch, I didn’t think it would do any harm to take a look at Stained-With-Blood’s tomahawk. Mohammed only mentioned it to me yesterday, and well, in view of the weird experiences I had with the Horde Master, I thought I’d check it out. Is it true it’s made of meteor metal? Pure iron?”

  “Yes. Evidently, it’s supposed to play a vital role in our future here.” She snorted. “As was I, until . . . .”

  “I know how you feel. Even though it was a bit of a long shot, it was still a kick in the teeth to have our convictions so utterly squashed, eh? Still, we tried. That’s all we could do. The thing is, I totally appreciate where Saul is coming from. He was caught on a knife’s edge and had to err on the side of caution.” He chuckled. “Doesn’t make it any easier though, does it?”

  Houston moaned forlornly. Looking toward him, they watched as he lethargically repositioned himself on the bed before turning the recording back on.

  “Sorry, Mac,” Ayria announced, “it’s not here.”

  “Eh?”

  “The tomahawk, Heaven’s-Claw. I left it with Saul at the beginning of the week when Stained-With-Blood and I went to see him regarding the visions we’d been having. I’m glad you mentioned it though because I’ve been meaning to get it back.” She gestured toward Houston. “Do you know, it’s the only thing I can find that seems to bring him any relief. For some reason, as soon as he holds it, he becomes utterly docile.”

  “Pity it doesn’t have that effect on the Horde,” Mac replied, lightheartedly. “Mind you, whatever he’s watching now appears to do the trick.”

  “Oh that. Hmm. Just another past tragedy that highlights why I won’t miss this place when we leave.” Guiding Mac by the elbow, she said, “C’mon. Let’s go hassle Mohammed. If he gives us a hard time about seeing Saul, I’m sure I can pull the doctor’s privilege card. After all, the welfare of my patients comes first, and that axe will serve a much better purpose here than just sitting on his desk as a paperweight.”

  Ayria closed the door quietly behind her. As they walked away, she could just make out a woman’s voice as the clip played again.

  “. . . That was the awful moment when the Shivan-Estre met her end. For reasons as yet unknown, her navigational beacon malfunctioned . . .”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  An Accepted Gambit

  Lieutenant Jake Rixton raised his arm into the air and reined 1st Platoon in behind him. He waited for the dust to clear before cupping his hand over his eyes to cut out the glare of the midday sun. He spent a full minute scanning the arrivals terminal of the starport before beckoning his officers forward.

  “Sergeant Williams. Divide your section into squads and have them check out the vicinity of the underpass. Not too close, mind. Just enough to draw the attention of any spooks that might be hiding. Stagger your approach so the men can lay down overlapping fields of fire in the event you have to hightail it out of there.”

  “Will do, Sir. Do you want us to plug any of the bastards if our presence doesn’t entice them to show their ugly faces?”

  “Good idea. Only one or two, though. Get them riled enough to follow you. We won’t be much of a diversion unless we actually make a nuisance of ourselves, eh?”

  The men laughed. In the month Jake had worked with them as their lieutenant, he had felt himself grow in confidence and stature. He knew his sense of humor had always been a source of constant refreshment, and he was determined to keep it that way.

  Jake turned to his new corporal. “Nick. Would you and your men please do the same along the western perimeter? Go as far as the rear of the hangar pens, then turn back. If you can’t flush anybody out, rendezvous with me back here and we’ll go for a little jaunt around the refueling stations. Remember. Be obvious, and make as much noise as possible. You know what to do if you’re pursued. Hol
es have been burned into the fencing at regular intervals, so you can either cut across the airfield and regroup at Boleni Mount, or swing back toward Rhomane.”

  “No problem, Sir.”

  Both groups galloped off, leaving Jake alone to reflect on the objective of the day’s mission. So it’s up to us to keep the Horde distracted, and occupied in this area. Should be simple enough.

  On a whim, he took out a pair of adapted binoculars. Activating the rotational frequency module fitted over the lenses, he studied the area again. Damn, but it’s quiet. Let’s hope the boys can change that.

  *

  Flavius Velerianus glanced at the modern timepiece on his wrist, then gazed off into the distance. The convoy from the Shilette Abyss was expected to meet up with his mounted equitata at any time, and he was keen to get into the last phase of the operation.

  Life had been quite boring for him since his arrival on Arden. His promotion aside, the Ninth had been employed on defensive duties more often than not. As such, even when things got interesting, his squadron of horsemen always seemed reduced to a subsidiary role while others got to test their mettle. Finally, he’d received his first proper assignment, and he was sure it was due to his friend’s recent promotion.

  Thank you, Marcus.

  Standing in his stirrups, Flavius tried to assess the route ahead. It was no use. The shimmering heat waves radiating up off the ground made it look as if the topaz-blue canopy of the sky had melted and spilled over onto the asphalt canvas below. The more he looked, the more frustrated he became as the line of the road streaked into rivulets of silver and gray contrasts. They confused the eye, confounding his ability to judge distance.

  Why couldn’t the forest have extended this far and saved us the trouble?