“It’s been a strange and unpredictable few weeks, which is why I came here instead of forcing you to chase me for another orbit.” Eren glanced behind him, toward the top of the ramp. “I also brought someone along who is eager to say hello.” His voice raised a notch. “Sir?”
Caleb followed Eren’s gaze to see a second person emerge from the ship.
His heart stopped for two beats, until his brain performed the mental leaps required to rationalize what—who—he was seeing. Not his father, who had been dead for thirty-seven years and counting. Not the Praesidis Primor, who had died fourteen years ago on Solum, along with eight billion members of his Dynasty.
This was the man he’d known as Danilo Nisi, until the diati revealed him to be the true Corradeo Praesidis. His former mentor and teacher, from whom he’d unintentionally stolen something precious. The price of victory over the Directorate had been so high.
Alex’s palm rested on the small of his back in a silent gift of strength and resolve. He drew everything he could from it, cleared his throat and took a step forward.
Corradeo reached the bottom of the ramp, his gaze piercing but his expression warm, and took Caleb’s hand in both of his. “My friend. It has been far too long. I was so glad to hear you survived The Displacement, and I’m relieved to find you well now.”
Caleb had called himself prepared for the eventual inevitability of this meeting, but he found he was at a loss for what to say. No matter what Alex or anyone else insisted, he’d spent the last fourteen years believing Corradeo simply must despise him for stripping the diati, his constant companion for a million years, away from him. For killing billions of his bloodline. For destroying his homeworld.
How could the man possibly be smiling at him, clasping his hand in cordial greeting?
His eyes stung a little as he returned the handshake and tried to smile in return. “And you, sir. When you vanished, we feared the worst. It’s good to have you among us again.” He glanced briefly at Eren, who looked both amused and a touch perplexed. “I know many Anadens are also grateful to have you back.”
“And some, not in the slightest.” Corradeo stepped away and dipped a chin at Alex. “It’s good to see you as well. Your mother has been most patient and understanding with me while I’ve struggled to repair the damage Ferdinand caused. I will have to work very hard indeed to repay her.”
“Oh, I suspect so long as you keep sending a fleet of Machim warships to every Rasu party, she’ll be pleased as punch. Or pleased, anyway. I don’t think she does punch.” Alex’s brow furrowed as she gestured toward the house. “Can you stay for drinks? We’d love to have you both.”
Eren checked with Corradeo as he answered. “I could fancy a spot of your wine. Nothing stronger, though. I had a rough run-in with a nasty hypnol recently and am trying to take it easy on the mind-altering substances.”
A ‘rough run-in’ indeed; Caleb had glimpsed a hint of the damage inflicted when he’d searched Eren’s abandoned hotel room on Lethe not too long ago. “Understood. We’ll keep it light.”
He surreptitiously checked Corradeo’s demeanor to find the man nodding amiably. “I made sure my schedule was clear for the rest of the evening.”
All right, then. It might be time for him to start believing this encounter was not going to go the way his nightmares had led him to expect.
They struck off down the stone path, which had been scrapped and re-laid after their return from Namino. Alex gamely tried out some small talk about how they’d designed the landing complex and house, giving Caleb the space to reorient his mindset and prepare for a cordial, even friendly night.
Wrapped up in his own head, it took him a few seconds to realize Eren was no longer walking beside him. He looked back to see the man standing several meters off the path, in the meadow. Eren was staring at a spot of grass halfway to the creek… oh.
Memories of the terrible night flooded Caleb’s mind, when Death had visited Akeso and threatened to utterly consume them. So much had happened since then, but for Eren, it must feel like yesterday.
We have healed our wounds from that experience.
We have, but I doubt he can say the same.
He motioned for Alex to accompany Corradeo on to the house, then left the path to quietly fall in beside Eren. “I am so sorry.”
Eren nodded quickly, though his focus remained locked on the spot of grass ahead. “It’s just…I didn’t expect to….” He hurriedly wiped a tear away. “Dammit.”
“I wish I could have saved her.”
“I know you would’ve moved the heavens to do it if it had been in your power. It wasn’t your fault, and the people whose fault it was are all dead now, by my hand. I got my vengeance, and I’ve made my peace with what happened. And you know what? It still fucking sucks.”
When Eren spoke again, his voice was shaking. “I’ll be honest. I think I’m going to need something a little stronger than wine tonight after all.”
Caleb squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re among friends here. We’ll take care of you.”
“So then Felzeor swoops down out of the sky and wraps his talons around the barrel of the gun. The Dankath tries to yank it away, but Felzeor hangs on, flapping his wings in the Dankath’s face and using his beak to peck away at the shell of her arm. They go stumbling about in wild circles. It’s all claws and feathers and shells as they spin around like they’re tearing up a dance floor. I can’t get off a shot without risking hitting Felzeor.
“Finally, Felzeor’s beak breaks through a joint in the Dankath’s arm, and she lets out this screeching yell. Felzeor yanks the gun loose from her grip, flies up into the air and announces, ‘You can’t shoot my friend!’ ” Eren grinned. “That’s when I shot the Dankath.”
Everyone stared at him, aghast.
“Well, not fatally. Barely enough to get her into restraints followed by a holding cell, in fact.”
Caleb chuckled in relief. “Great story. Where is Felzeor tonight?”
“I wanted to bring him along, but would you believe he’s on CINT assignment with Drae?”
“I’m glad he’s diving back into work.”
“Me, too.” Eren idly spun his glass in his hand, then held it up. “I wouldn’t mind a refill.”
Caleb gave Alex a discreet nod of approval, and she rolled her eyes indulgently and stood. “That was the last of the vodka. Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and check out what else we have?”
Eren leapt up to follow her, leaving Caleb and Corradeo alone. After an uncomfortable pause, Caleb offered, “Would you like to see the gardens in the back?”
“I would enjoy seeing this entire planet. For tonight, we can start with the gardens.”
“Right out this way.”
Caleb opened the door to the rear patio and accompanied Corradeo outside. Akeso’s birds chirped a bit louder than normal, their songs verging on discordant. Akeso had been set on edge by Caleb’s unease earlier in the evening and was struggling to get a solid bead on his emotions.
Be still. All is well.
“I didn’t realize coming here was going to stir up such traumatic memories for Eren. No one told me Cosime died here.”
“Cosime died on Savrak. Here is where Eren let her go.”
Corradeo frowned. “I’m not certain which is worse.”
“Neither am I. But I want to thank you for giving him a purpose. It’s making a real difference for him. He’s doing infinitely better than the last time I saw him.”
“It’s not charity on my part. I need him at my side. Our new government needs him protecting it. But I’m glad to do what I can for him.” Corradeo set his drink on a table, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and considered the night sky. “Do you ever sense it? The sea of microscopic flecks of crimson dancing among the starlight?”
Caleb sucked in a sharp breath. “Sometimes.”
Silence lingered between them until he voiced the question surely on both their minds. “Are you ever temp
ted to reach out with your mind and call to it?”
“All the time. But I’m not confident the diati would respond to my call…and I find I don’t want to know the answer. It’s for the best. I need to lead on my own authority, for good or ill, and not rely on primordial magic to enforce my pronouncements. My people need to trust me, not fear me. Or most of them do. Most of the time.” Corradeo laughed under his breath. “What about you? Are you ever tempted to reach for it?”
“Tempted? Of course. But I never will. Not after what happened. Besides, I have a far better companion now.”
“Ah, yes. This living planet. Quite a remarkable creation, even by Kat standards. Have they ever told you how they managed such a feat?”
“We’ve asked repeatedly, but we’ve never been able to extract a satisfactory answer.”
“Not surprising, I suppose. And do I understand events correctly? The planet brought you back to life after The Displacement?”
“ ‘Rekindled my life energy’ might be a more accurate way to describe it. I already had a healthy dose of Akeso flowing through my body. Though I was clinically dead, thanks to the stasis chamber, those pieces of Akeso lived on inside me. And when Alex brought me here, Akeso was able to infuse those pieces with a surge of its own life force and…wake me back up, so to speak.”
“And now it’s a permanent part of you?”
“More than simply a part: we are one. When we’re not, we both suffer for it. But when we are….” He reached up to run his fingertips along a low-hanging branch above them. As he did, vines of ivy sprouted from the nubs of bark and wound down to create a leafy curtain. Tiny fireflies emerged out of nothingness to light the air around the ivy.
“Incredible. If I had known what was going to transpire, I wouldn’t have left—or at a minimum I wouldn’t have left without speaking to you first.”
“Don’t worry about it. It took weeks for the Kats to find where the diati had tossed Akeso. Alex never gave up hope, but I’m pretty sure everyone else did.”
“I’m glad for you. That you live, obviously, and also that you’ve formed such a bond with this singular life form.” Corradeo’s gaze returned to the starlit sky. “The diati gave us much—it enabled us to protect our people—but it took much from you and me as well.”
Caleb sighed, and the fireflies dimmed in response. “It killed a lot of your people. I still bear the guilt of what happened at Solum.”
“You weren’t responsible for those deaths.”
“A court of law may not have held me responsible, but the blood stains my hands all the same.”
Corradeo faced him, clasping him on the shoulder in the same manner his father had done when he was a boy. “I don’t hold you responsible. We were naïve to believe we ever truly controlled the diati. If there is a single person in this universe who understands this completely, it is me.”
Caleb swallowed hard. “And The Displacement? With it, I did what even your son could not accomplish. I took your diati from you.”
“And saved the entirety of your species as a result. I would have given it willingly, had it asked my permission. So, please, rid yourself of this guilt.”
The enormity of the weight lifting off his soul in that moment was apt to require a lot of contemplation later. For now, he beamed without guile. “Thank you, sir. It means a great deal to me for you to say so.”
All around them, the fireflies renewed their joyful dance of light.
“You guys are just…you’re just…the best. The best mates….” Eren’s head lolled onto Caleb’s shoulder.
“You’re the best, too.” He and Corradeo shared an amused glance as they held Eren up between them and guided him carefully up the ship’s ramp. Once inside, they eased him into one of the passenger seats and strapped him in. Eren protested briefly, slurring out, “but I’m not ready to go…,” before slumping in the restraints and beginning to snore.
Caleb covered his mouth with his hands and chuckled into them. “Do you want us to come to Ares with you and take care of him?”
Corradeo waved him off. “No, no. I’ve commed ahead to Nyx. She’ll meet us at the landing pad, and we’ll get him to his room and tucked in. Not to worry.”
He arched an eyebrow at the mention of the former Inquisitor, but didn’t comment. They’d dredged up enough old memories for one night. He shook the man’s hand. “It was a pleasure, sir.”
“And for me. Don’t be a stranger.”
Caleb headed down the ramp and joined Alex on the stone path by the landing complex. As they watched the ship depart, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.
She hugged his arms tighter against her. “You’re smiling, right? It feels as if you’re smiling.”
“I am. It’s, um…it’s funny.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she tilted her face back toward him. “What’s funny?”
“I am indescribably grateful to discover he doesn’t hate me. Doesn’t even blame me, or at least has forgiven me. It’s like a vise grip has been squeezing my chest for fourteen years, and I didn’t realize it was there until tonight, when suddenly it’s gone. I feel…free.”
“This is beyond wonderful, but I think I’m missing the funny.”
“Well, I find myself wondering why I ever felt I needed his forgiveness so desperately. He only affirmed what I already knew to be true, after all. In the end, I merely had to forgive myself. Of course, I recognize the mental gymnastics involved in how I’m saying this now, on the flip side of having his forgiveness.”
She twisted around in his arms until she faced him, then touched her nose to his. “Still not funny, exactly, but I don’t care. I only care that you’ve finally—did I mention finally?—made peace with it. Welcome back from purgatory, priyazn.”
PART II
COUNTER
COUNTER
STRATAGEMS
18
* * *
MIRAI
Conceptual Research Lab
Asterion Dominion
Dashiel Ridani steepled his hands at his chin and leaned forward intently. Beyond the shielded glass-composite wall in front of him stood a similarly shielded transparent enclosure. Inside it radiated a protective force field.
Inside the force field sat an egg-shaped, adiamene-coated module stretching six meters long by two-and-a-half wide. A nozzle opening punctuated one end of the shell, and half a meter beyond it, still safely within the force field, hung a small sheet of adiamene.
A faint whirring sound revved up through the multiple enclosures to ring in Dashiel’s ears. Next, a murky, stygian beam, visible only against the bright backdrop of the lab’s walls, shot out of the nozzle. A hole burned clear through the center of the adiamene sheet, causing the force field behind it to sizzle in warning, and the beam shut off.
After an eternity that lasted maybe five seconds, the force field deactivated as well; a robotic arm swung in from the ceiling to lift the ruined adiamene sheet up and away, then replace it with a fresh one. The force field turned back on, and the process repeated itself.
He watched the cycle run to completion another four times before pivoting to the lab director standing beside him. “Show me the safety readings.”
“Yes, sir.” A virtual pane materialized to display the output measurements from the sensors embedded in the module, the force field and the enclosure. They showed a pervasive but minimal leakage from the shell while the beam was active, and he hurriedly triple-checked the reference numbers. Within safety parameters for use in space. Whew. When the device was shut down, no measurable leakage registered. The force field struggled to contain the force of the beam—it would have failed after another 1.4 seconds—but this was to be expected. In space, it wasn’t going to matter.
A negative energy blast was one of only two known types of strikes capable of destroying adiamene, the other being the far messier antimatter. And if this beam sliced cleanly through adiamene on impact, it would cut through anything
.
He turned back to the lab director. “What about degradation of the weapon components?”
“Manageable. Testing so far shows a steady 0.018-0.021% degradation per use. We should be able to get around a thousand firings out of one before it’ll need to be refurbished.”
“A thousand? That’s good.”
“It’s the adiamene we used to construct the device. It heals the components on its own initiative.”
“We knew adiamene had adaptive properties. It makes sense.” Dashiel nodded sharply, finally allowing himself to be convinced. Negative energy weapons had proved their effectiveness against Rasu in every battle, but until now they had been in severely limited, precious supply. It was possible he had just changed the equation in a big way.
“Package the prototype up and prepare it for transport. We’ll pull a frigate off the assembly line, wire it in, and give it a real test. While you get the prototype set, I think it’s time I gave Commander Palmer the good news.”
DAF ORBITAL DRY DOCK #1
Mirai Orbit
“Well, is the weapon ready to deploy yet?”
Dashiel took a deep breath, working not to let Palmer’s impatience dampen his enthusiasm. After all, he’d expected no less from the man. “Almost. We need to test it in a real-world scenario and confirm its effectiveness, resiliency and safety parameters, which we will be doing tomorrow. If everything checks out, then I’ll authorize it for fleet installation. Frigates first, as cruisers can carry a substantial load of negative energy missiles already.”
“What about fighters?”
“It’s a hefty device, and there are design considerations as well. I’d prefer to wait until we can produce a smaller, more lightweight version before we begin installing it on fighters.”
“And how long will that take?”
Dashiel grimaced. It had required a herculean level of effort and brainpower to crack this puzzle in the first place. Everyone, including him, needed a break and perhaps a pat on the back. But he recognized they couldn’t afford too much of one. “A couple of weeks, hopefully. We’ll start testing iterative improvements as soon as I authorize production.”
All Our Tomorrows Page 11
