The sun that had been a pale yellow dot was now a blazing red inferno. Its circumference had expanded by almost half again. Radiant, blinding prominences and solar flares reached out, threatening to scorch the entire star system to ash.
“Radiation levels are spiking, Captain,” one of the sensor officers called out, unnecessarily.
Dequoi blinked and forced himself to move. He strode to the center seat and fell heavily into it, then turned back to speak to the crew. At that moment his executive officer, Commander Ehrens, came racing in, gasping for breath.
“I apologize, Captain,” the short, redheaded woman managed between breaths. “I ran here all the way from the—” The rest of the sentence died on her lips. She gawked at the star and unconsciously reached back, catching herself on a railing. “I—what in the name of the Empire is happening?”
The captain shook his head. “Don’t know, Commander, and can’t think of anything we could do to help it,” he grumbled. “Our first and only priority now is to get the general and the rest back up here and leave this system as rapidly as possible.”
“He’s not going to want to hear that, you know,” the exec said. She moved around to the front of the bridge and continued to stare at the blazing sun. Fortunately for her, the hyper-dense transparent wall was filtering out much of the glare and all of the radiation, so that neither her eyes nor her general health would not be adversely affected. “I don’t suppose anyone knows what’s causing this?”
The captain shook his head. “Nor how to stop it.” He met her eyes as she looked away for a moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was going nova.”
She looked back at him, surprised. “You mean it’s not?”
“It shouldn’t,” the captain said. “It’s too small. And far too early in its stellar lifetime.”
“Then why is it doing this?” the exec demanded.
“Shockwave imminent,” the sensor officer reported. “Radiation wave continuing to climb.”
Dequoi gritted his teeth. “That sun is spewing out a dozen different things, and any one of them is likely enough to take out this ship, all our crew, and the folks down on the planet below us, as soon as it gets bad enough.” He shook his head and looked at the exec again. “Like I said, our best and only bet is to evacuate—pronto.” He turned to the communications officer. “Get me General Tamerlane. Immediately.”
16
In the high Above, in the abandoned Golden City of the gods, six Dyonari warriors sat in the plaza of the great Fountain. And they were bored.
They had waited there for hours, guarding a device that none of them understood. The cube they had assembled, based on memories implanted within their minds by the seers of their Star-City, continued to draw cosmic energy from the Fountain’s basin and blast it into the radiant blue sky, through a dimensional tear it had created there, and on—to they knew not where.
And meanwhile they stood guard over it, though no dangers had yet appeared to threaten it or them.
Eventually Co-Commander Mirana stood, stretched, and wandered around the perimeter of the Fountain. “It isn’t how I imagined it,” she said to no one in particular.
“Imagined what?” asked Madalena.
“A city of gods.”
Madalena scoffed. “It hasn’t been that in quite some time,” she said. “I imagine it has been deserted for centuries, if not longer.”
Mirana shrugged. “Even so,” she said. “It’s where they used to live. I expected...” Her voice trailed off.
“Expected what?”
Mirana shook her head. “I don’t know. Something. Something more than just this. Just a fountain and deserted buildings and...nothing.”
“None of that matters to the mission,” Madalena replied curtly.
“Yes, yes—the holy mission,” the other said. She shook her head in frustration. “Build a box, and guard it. Such a prize assignment for six of the finest warriors—”
Madalena cut her off. “Mirana, if you have somewhere else you need to be—some place you’d rather be, instead of fulfilling the mission given to us by the great seers of our Star-City, then by all means, go.”
“Go?” Mirana repeated, almost incredulous. “You would have me simply walk away from here?”
“Of course,” the co-commander replied. Her mouth twisted upward in a leering grin. “That way I could simply kill you as a deserter, and be done with your constant complaints.”
Mirana scowled at this but did not reply. She resumed her stroll around the basin, stopping at the far side to lean over and look closer. Something within the roiling energy-waters had caught her attention. In this portion, the constant churning was at a minimum, the surface here almost placid in comparison to the rest of it. She could see tiny points of light floating within the depths. As she stared at them, she became aware with a start that they were actually stars. Dropping to one knee, she gazed more intently into the abyss. Yes, she realized, they were stars. In fact, she knew with certainty then that she was seeing an arm of the galaxy.
But something, she could also see, was terribly wrong.
With the cry of dismay she leapt to her feet and raced back around the Fountain to the others.
“What troubles you so now?” demanded Madalena.
“Come and see! Come and see!” Mirana’s voice was shrill, backed up by a telepathic echo that carried with it terrible dismay. The others all felt it and could sense that it was genuine. They all stood and followed her back around to the other side of the basin.
“Look,” she said, pointing down at what at first appeared to be water but was actually raw cosmic energy. “Look at the stars,” she said.
The others looked. They saw. They understood, somehow. They realized what they were seeing.
The very stars of their galaxy were being ripped apart.
“This is actually happening,” Mirana said. “It is happening now. As we watch.”
The others all exchanged shocked looks and, if Dyonari could be said to blanch, they did.
“This is our doing,” Mirana said. “The power to do this is coming from here—from the Fountain of the gods.”
Again, as soon as she said it, they all knew it was true.
“But—why?” Madalena asked aloud. “Why would our kind wish to blow out the stars? To destroy the galaxy itself?” Her normally level, commanding voice grew as shrill as any of them had ever heard it. “Why?”
And then, having asked the question, the answer was provided to them. The final element of hidden memory was triggered. The last failsafe installed by the seers.
They all snapped to attention, moving robotically, and said aloud, “We fulfill our mission. We do our duty.”
For several long moments they stood there that way. And then Madalena blinked her eyes, shook her head, and forced herself to move. She lurched away from the other five and staggered forward, lost in a daze. As her senses returned, she looked down and with a start realized she had stumbled to the very lip of the basin. Another step and she would have plunged into the churning energies, and been reduced to her constituent elements in an instant.
Gasping, she drew back and whirled about to look in horror at her five companions. They all stood stock-still, dark eyes glazed over and staring into nothing.
Madalena rushed back to them and grasped Mirana by the shoulders. “Wake up,” she cried. “Wake up!”
Her co-commander didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t speak—didn’t even blink. She continued to stare straight ahead, her mouth slightly open. The other four were in precisely the same state.
“This isn’t right,” Madalena muttered, stalking away from them and looking down, trying to think clearly. “Why is this happening to me? I’m the one who follows orders. I’m not the rebellious one. Not like her.”
She turned back and glared at the immobile Mirana, then at the others. “Wake up,” she shouted at them. “Don’t you see? We are destroying the galaxy. We six. We are responsible. We have to stop it
now!”
Still no reactions.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll do it myself.”
She started toward the cube, but then the faintest of sounds behind her caused her to whirl about.
Mirana was rushing directly at her. Her long, curved, transparent sword was unsheathed and raised high. Her expression was impassive. Clearly, her mind was not her own—but her intent was clear.
All of these thoughts went through Madalena’s Head in a split second. And then they were cast aside, so that she could concentrate on staying alive.
The sword came down and barely missed her as she leapt to her left. Mirana continued forward, letting the momentum carry her through into the next swing. This attack actually resulted in the tip of the blade scoring a tiny line along Madalena’s armor.
Madalena gasped at this near-hit and spun away, at the same time drawing her own sword. For an instant she had thought to draw the small energy pistol that was holstered at her side, but her instincts warned her that if no other technology worked here in the Golden City, it was unlikely the pistol worked. She was grateful for this instinct, because she knew that the time it would’ve taken to draw the gun—only to have it not function—could well have been all the time her opponent had needed to take her down.
She kept moving, dancing to her left, keeping distance between herself and the robotic Mirana. Anger meanwhile swelled within her breast. The seers—it was all their doing. She had trusted them as the wise and ancient leaders they purported to be, but they had planned all of this from the start. They had planted the instructions for how to build the cube within the minds of the entire team—the cube that was, even now, pouring cosmic energy down into the real universe, and threatening to blow out the stars—but they had also planted overriding mental commands that were clearly on display now, with Mirana. For some reason the programming hadn’t fully worked on Madalena, or she had somehow broken it. But all that meant was that she had become the enemy to her erstwhile co-commander.
And Mirana was making that last point exceptionally clear. She charged again, her sword slicing down and then back up and across. She moved with all the precision and grace of any top-flight Dyonari sword-wielder, despite her lack of conscious control. Her blade was getting closer and closer by the moment. Madalena faced a quandary; she didn’t want to fully engage her colleague and actually try to injure or kill her, but she also knew if she continued to fight in such a purely defensive manner, sooner or later Mirana would catch up to her and…
No. It was no good. She was already tiring while her robotic-acting opponent showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever. And she knew she couldn’t actually bring herself to attack Mirana. She had to try something else—a different approach entirely.
Gritting her teeth, Madalena spun out of the way one last time, backing up several quick steps to gain a little distance, then lowered her sword and called to her comrade in plaintive tones. “Mirana! Snap out of it! If I did it—you can, too!”
The other Dyonari commander stopped and peered back at her, and for a brief moment she appeared to take heed. Her eyes narrowed and she looked to be actively fighting the mental programming planted by the seers. Then the moment passed. Her expression relaxed, returning to the blank stare it had been before. She raised her sword and charged headlong at Madalena.
In the split-second before Mirana reached her, Madalena felt overcome with sadness. Her grip tightened on her sword hilt but she knew she couldn’t strike her friend. As Mirana lunged at her, sword descending in what would surely be a fatal blow, Madalena made her peace with the cosmos. Her reflexes, however, had not quite gotten on board. At the last possible moment, keeping her feet planted in place, she shifted her weight to her right and twisted ever so slightly.
Mirana’s swing missed by millimeters. Her momentum carried her into her opponent’s now-outstretched leg. She tripped. For the first time since the terrible events had begun, she cried out.
Madalena spun about to see what was happening. What she saw caused her to scream as well.
Mirana was perched on the lip of the Fountain’s basin, standing on tiptoe, rocking slowly back and forth. One wrong move and she would tumble into the churning energies—energies that could disintegrate even a god.
Madalena didn’t hesitate. She lunged for her co-commander, grasping her by the waist, and yanked her back to safety.
Mirana was breathing heavily, out of breath. She looked at Madalena and then past her, over her shoulder. Now it was her turn to scream again.
Madalena looked around and saw what her comrade was seeing. The other four Dyonari warriors had their swords out. They were advancing upon her. Their faces were as blank as Mirana’s had been but their intent was clear.
Raising their blades in unison, they charged.
17
“No,” the gray giant rumbled, staring at the growing web of light within the holographic display of the galaxy. “No—this must cease immediately. If it continues, the results will be catastrophic.”
Tamerlane had turned away from the others for a moment, receiving a priority message from the captain of the Ascanius high in orbit. He sent a reply. Then, “We’re on it,” he called to the giant. Turning back to Agrippa, he informed him about what the crew of the Ascanius was seeing.
“We must act now,” Agrippa stated firmly. He had been testing the force field’s area—roughly a dome over the entire Dyonari delegation— and its strength, first with his fists and then, very cautiously, with his weapons. The fact that the field deflected any blast back the way it had come caused him to abandon that strategy quickly.
“Yes,” Tamerlane agreed, “I think that’s very clear. What do you suggest we do?”
Agrippa scowled, turned, and moved still closer to the invisible wall and the line of defenders just on the other side. His eyes moved from one impassive Dyonari face in front of him to the next. At last they rested on the one called Merrin, seemingly the second- or third-ranking officer of the bunch, standing a bit behind the line. He caught the warrior’s attention and called to him, “Commander Merrin! You support your High Commander’s attempt to destroy the entire galaxy?”
“That’s what he’s doing?” Tamerlane said, aghast. “Perhaps I should cover their bubble in cosmic fire. Cook them a little inside there!”
Agrippa raised a hand to Tamerlane. “Please, General,” he said. “One moment. We don’t know that the heat would pass through the field, and we yet have a few moments. I still believe this can all be averted.”
“A scant few moments,” Solonis interjected. He was reading a set of seemingly incomprehensible figures scrolling by on another display nearby—hardly necessary, given the manner in which the luminous lines were spreading among the holographic stars—and his dark complexion paled. “Whatever we are going to do, we must do it now.”
Agrippa moved right up against the force field, glaring through it at the defensive line, almost daring the Dyonari to try to strike him. “You endorse this action, Merrin?” he called again.
“We obey our orders,” Merrin said by way of reply. “The High Commander knows what he is doing.” He hesitated, glancing over at Ralin, the slightest hint of uncertainty creeping into his high, almost musical voice. “He must know what he is doing.”
Agrippa could see the cloud of concern and uncertainty pass over Merrin’s face. Next to him, the other officer, Ralin, looked similarly sick.
“There is almost no time left, gentlemen,” Agrippa called. He gestured toward the lines that continued to flare to life between one star and the next. “You can see what is happening here. Are you on the side of life in this galaxy—or on the side of utter cosmic annihilation? That is the choice put before you now. Choose!”
Merrin looked directly at Ralin, the other officer. “What is the High Commander doing?” he demanded.
Ralin shook his head, then turned back to their leader at the console. “High Commander, forgive my impertinence, but I feel you must answer Commander
Merrin’s question. Please.”
One of Tamerlane’s I Legion soldiers dashed in from her post outside the tower. “General,” she cried. “The sun—it’s getting so bright. Like it’s about to go nova...”
“I am aware of that, Lieutenant,” Tamerlane replied, though hearing it from someone who had just witnessed what was happening firsthand put the situation into even more concrete terms for him. “General Agrippa,” he said formally, moving toward the Dyonari defensive line. “I am about to take this matter into my own hands.”
“Time is up,” Solonis called.
“This must stop now,” the gray giant boomed. Slowly it began to move away from the circle on which it stood, stalking slowly in the direction of the Dyonari.
Agrippa saw both Tamerlane and the giant headed toward him. He realized now that there was little chance of avoiding bloodshed. Massive bloodshed, on both sides. And even that was assuming they could penetrate the force field. He turned back to the Dyonari warriors arrayed between him and their officers. “Your High Commander,” he called to Merrin, while nodding toward the Dyonari who was typing away in the sleek, streamlined white seat. “I’m afraid I never caught his given name.”
The two officers glanced nervously at one another, and then Merrin moved forward and leaned between two of the warriors. He whispered, “Siklar. The High Commander’s name is Siklar.”
Agrippa started to call to the leader again, now using his given name for familiarity’s sake, but then his eyes slowly widened. He’d heard that name before.
Siklar. Don’t trust Siklar. Don’t let him inside the tower.
Agrippa cursed. “Him! He’s the one my future-ghost tried to warn me about,” he growled. “And I escorted him right in here.”
“What?” Tamerlane asked as he joined Agrippa at the Dyonari perimeter.
“Never mind.” Agrippa pointed at the High Commander. “There is no doubt now. He is the danger here. We have to stop him immediately. He wants to destroy the Milky Way.” He raised the volume of his booming voice another notch. “Isn’t that right, Siklar? You wish to annihilate the entire galaxy!”
The Shattering: Omnibus Page 79
