- Edward Faust
- Annotation 1073-N
- The Fall of the Collectorate, Volume 4
65
A S MICHAEL APPROACHED JARA from the southeast, Maj. Aiden Nilsson arrived to its north. He folded space to within eighteen inches of the surface and set down with a soft touch. His team members held his flanks. The ground, covered in thick moss, descended forty degrees beneath a tall canopy. He opened his DR29 and surveilled the landscape.
Everything about the settlement, less than one hundred meters south, shocked him.
“Cudfrucker. They have a city. How do they have a city?”
To his left, also inside her helmet, Col. Nyssa Marlowe expanded on his bewilderment.
“From this distance, I can’t scan through the walls. Metallurgical shows brontinium. Pure and unrefined.”
“That can’t be right, Colonel. These buildings are manufactured. You’re saying this is brontinium in its raw state?”
“I’ve never known metallurgical to be wrong.”
“Thoughts, Lieutenant?”
To Nilsson’s right, Lt. Zephyrus Manning retracted his helmet and threw open a holocube. His hands moved like works of art until he found the required database.
“I’ve been studying the classified archives since they dropped us off at NP-44. What we’re seeing can’t possibly exist. The event of SY 5320 rendered every brontinium vein on Hiebimini inert. It made extract retrieval impossible and rendered the ore unstable for industrial manufacture. These reports demonstrate any attempt to cut and shape the ore ended with disaster. It would hold together for a few days then shatter. Sir, if this is pure brontinium, then something has changed on this planet, and we’re the first to know.”
“Except this lot.” Nilsson expected a series of tents and modular buildings thrown together as a makeshift community. He remembered those eight towers Poussard called a “secret weapon.” He didn’t say it aloud, but the others had to agree: They were looking at something far beyond human understanding.
“If these are made of pure brontinium from active veins,” Nilsson said, “aerial bombardment will have limited success.”
“Indeed,” Col. Marlowe said. “Brontinium was the hardest known substance in the Collectorate. Slews will have little effect. Do we contact the Admiral?”
“No. We follow orders. Silent protocol. We don’t know the enemy’s capabilities. If we’re detected, we put the fleet at risk.”
“Then how do we proceed?”
“We knew this was going to be difficult in broad daylight. It couldn’t be helped. Poussard wouldn’t risk a thirteen-hour delay to achieve nightfall. If the enemy discovers Praxis before the invasion, we’re in trouble. So, we improve the odds any way we can.”
To Marlowe. “Surveille the eastern third.” To Manning: “Turn your focus to the western gradient. I’ll take the central region. Close off your DR29 to all diagnostics other than the Jewel composite energy signature. We can’t see through the walls, but we can find them if they’re outside. And remember, only the smallest. If we can’t carry them out in a sack, they’re too big. And they’re no good us to dead.”
Nilsson was an old hand at snatch-and-grab, but this setup had disaster stamped all over it. Plus, he never went after babies before.
*
Maya Fontaine hated men who thought they needed to protect her. In this case, she gave Michael a pass for sending her far away from danger. However, she had no intention of obeying his wishes to wait this conflict out. Soon after she left Michael’s carnage, Maya reprogrammed the rifter’s guidance web and changed course.
In time, she reached the edge of an escarpment and beheld the wonder of a fully formed city amid bountiful gardens, fields, and forests. She arrived at the northwest corridor high enough to see beyond the city to a distant waterfall and river. Far across the landscape, beyond acacia forests, a lake shimmered under the rising sun. To the distant south, a dark finger rose above the horizon. Another rose due west. She did not try to find the other six towers.
The city teemed. Figures in black, like those left behind at the graviton weapon, moved about in groups, some marching beyond the city’s immediate perimeter. Others zipped about on rifters. Drones hovered above several clusters of quadrilateral-shaped buildings, flashing lights at rooftops as if delivering encoded transmissions. Maya understood: They were preparing for war.
She rode the rifter a good distance west until the scarp merged with the terrain below and started back for the city on foot. Maya had no idea how to respond if discovered. For now, subterfuge seemed like a reasonable strategy. She used nature’s many accomplices to avoid detection over the next forty minutes, until she hid inside thick foliage on the northern slope above the city.
“Well, Michael, what’s your plan?” She whispered. “You might do me the courtesy of amping.” She did not hear a peep since separating. “You’re not dead. I can rule that out. At least tell me where you are.”
She appreciated the old days, when Michael allowed her to drive the conversation. He appreciated her ability to reset his vision on what mattered most. To see the larger picture. To find a calming center amid turmoil. But now?
“Tell a man he’s immortal, and suddenly he has all the answers. I hope you know what you’re doing, Michael.”
The morning light was limited, so Maya stayed clear of the city until she might better map out her options. Then again, if an invasion was imminent – and Michael believed it so – steering clear might be wise.
She decided to find a comfortable perch which afforded a great view of the city without risk of being spotted. Maya started down a considerable slope and spotted a suitable rocky outcropping. In the same instant, her heart froze.
Voices. Low, indistinguishable.
She needed a moment to track their location. Had the soldiers in black and bronze below been closing in all along?
That’s when she saw them. Slightly east, twenty meters farther down the hillside.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the oncoming gasp.
The body armor gave them away. Unification Guard.
Cud! They’re here. Already?
Her mind raced through the possibilities. Calm, critical thinking slipped from her grasp, replaced by fears of the worst nightmare coming true. If the Guard could jump these three in so close, what prevented them dropping an entire army inside the city?
Her options disappeared. The last time she saw Michael, he spoke of a plan that was “a little nuts.” Whatever the result, he had to be warned. Maya tapped her amp and opened a cube. She dared not speak, not even a whisper.
The soldier in the center retracted his helmet.
Maya looked closer.
No. I’ve lost my mind.
She gathered the vid in stunned disbelief.
*
Michael jumped off his rifter at the coordinates Valentin provided. The city itself appeared quiet from his camouflaged perch on a forested knoll at JaRa’s southeast corner. But Michael was busy, sorting through bisected virtual windows inside his S-1 unit.
He monitored internal comms waiting for Valentin’s go-order; studied biodata of the residents while he tracked movement; and discovered a user interface with settings for personal weapons control and modification. The latter played to the soldier inside him.
“I’ll be damned.”
Michael grabbed both blast rifles simultaneously and watched the weapons UI morph into options for firing patterns, targeting, and manipulation of the explosive web inside flash pegs. Each category represented a significant upgrade from the DR29, but the secret sauce to cutting through Guard armor lay in an equation buried deep under the peg proximity triggers.
“No wonder they smoked those squads,” he said, referring to the excursions on Tamarind and Euphrates. “Snow White and the Seven Fucking Dwarves could take down a Guard unit with a little luck.”
Michael reset his targeting scheme to maximum precision. The strategy: Fire consecutive flas
h pegs on the identical guide path. The first peg would use its proximity trigger to explode within a millimeter of Guard armor, leaving a pea-sized weakness in the fabric for a fraction of a second, enough time for the second peg to penetrate and explode inside the body.
Would the Guard send troops if they realized the disadvantage? Yep, there’s gonna be a slaughter.
He monitored human movement but was unable to distinguish Sam – he never had much hope to do otherwise. The S-1 failed to penetrate the walls of domes and larger quadrilateral buildings. It was like tracking every other square on a checkerboard. The tech so enraptured Michael, he almost missed a silent stream signal. The sender’s identity sent shock waves.
“Maya? Oh, shit!”
He’d forgotten about her. Amid the intensity of building a new alliance, suiting up to fight with the former enemy, and sending Aldo on his way, Michael lost track of Maya. How could I do that?
He tapped his amp.
Silent message. Vid only.
Michael needed several seconds to understand what he was viewing. A locator beacon embedded in the stream signal clarified matters. She was half a kilometer from his position. She was …
The Guardsman in the center retracted his helmet and spoke to the soldier on his right. Michael wasn’t sure whether to cheer or curse.
“And the impossible wins again! Fuck me.”
Michael owed Nilsson everything, but he was under no illusion. The Major wasn’t here to find Michael, who didn’t recognize the other officers from Ericsson Station or Praxis. He reached the only logical conclusion: The attack fleet jumped them in to scout the city. They were the enemy.
“Don’t try to be a hero, Maya. Back off.”
She was savage when required, but she couldn’t hope to take on three soldiers at once. How do I play this?
Michael charted a path to her position. He’d reach Sam by rifter in less than a minute. Would anyone scrutinize his physique as out of place if he zipped past at full speed? Yet if he succeeded, what next? Rifle fire would draw attention.
He promised not to expose himself before the go-order. Valentin needed to deploy his people to their defensive positions. Any disruption might prove catastrophic.
“No. Nilsson won’t hurt her. He won’t …”
Unless …
Maya’s stream connection proved Michael’s newest plan might be workable. But was it smart? How would the Major react?
He took a chance. Michael replied first to Maya with a simple stream: “Do nothing.” Then he raced through his protocols.
There it was. Nilsson’s Guard-assigned receptor link.
He hoped the Major wouldn’t lose his composure. If the others found out ...
OK, dumbass. Short and sweet. Clever.
“Maj. Nilsson,” he said, “Don’t say a word. It’s Michael. I see you. Please stand down. You don’t understand what’s about to happen.”
*
Nilsson and his officers struggled to locate the composite energy signature amid their inability to see through these brontinium-walled buildings. But success arrived nonetheless.
They found three clusters.
Col. Marlowe reported four adult signatures in a clearing east.
“Possible children, but difficult to assess,” she said.
Manning processed signatures darting between buildings. Small, inconsistent.
“Children,” he said. “I think.”
Nilsson saw the most promising cluster on the move. Center of the city, eight to ten distinct signatures among a crowd of humans.
“Methodical movement, as if they’re marching. They’re walking along a route that might take them to your targets, Marlowe.”
“Orders, Major?” She said.
“If we’re together, we can do the most damage. But that’s not the mission. We need viable children. Infants, preferably. We scout from behind each cluster. We use the brontinium walls as tracking shields. If you have a fix on a target and reasonable chance of escape, make your move. Minimize collateral.”
“The brontinium,” Manning said, “might be a stroke of luck. If the adults go full-on Berserker, we’ll have a fighting chance.”
“Agreed. Spread out along our line seventy meters in either direction. When you’re in position, we move. We have forty minutes left on the hour Poussard promised. Make the best of it.”
Marlowe and Manning weren’t ten meters out when Nilsson’s amp received a signal he never expected. For an instant, he thought Poussard was breaking silence protocol. Instead, the unlikeliest voice.
“Maj. Nilsson,” he said, “It’s Michael. Don’t say a word. I see you. Please stand down. You don’t understand what’s about to happen.”
The stream was live, sent through a secure military amplink. This was a hell of a trick or …
“Cooper? You survived?”
“More or less. The officers with you – can they hear?”
“No.”
“You have to listen. If you go into the city, you’ll die. This place is not what you think.”
Nilsson put aside his emotions. The mission was clear.
“Where are you, Cooper?” He searched the stream for a locator beacon but found none. How was a low-level officer able to build such a wall? “We need to talk.”
“No. Not enough time. Major, I’m sure you have your orders, but I can’t protect you. If we run into each other inside the city, I’ll have to kill you. I don’t want to, but everything has changed.”
“You don’t sound like yourself, Cooper. Have they done something to you?”
“There’s one way you survive, Major. Look behind you. She’s your only hope.”
*
Maya retrieved her laser pistol, careful not to make a sound. Nilsson’s team separated. She couldn’t believe the soldier moving west didn’t catch her out of the corner of his eye.
Michael replied. “Do nothing.”
Not helpful instructions, but she complied. Seconds later, Nilsson tapped his amp and talked in hushed tones. Like before, Maya couldn’t make out the details, but this had to be Michael.
She raised her pistol but reconsidered. He won’t hurt me.
Nilsson unholstered his blast rifle seconds before he stopped talking. He gripped it tight, twirling it as his side. Nilsson looked both ways then over his left shoulder and up the slope.
He pivoted until his eyes fell on Maya. He didn’t lift the rifle. She kept the pistol to her side.
Was his glare one of bewilderment? Anger? Stunned relief? Maya never was good at reading military men.
He checked his team’s relative positions and started up the slope. He stopped several feet shy, scanning her as if viewing a hologram.
“I’m glad you survived,” Nilsson said. “You and Michael both.”
“And Aldo Cabrise.”
He winced at the prospect. “I should have known. Hmm. Michael says I’ll die if I enter the city. Even said he’d kill me himself. You wish to explain what’s happening?”
“I don’t know as much as Michael, but he’s right about the city. Call off the attack. Your people will be massacred.”
Nilsson’s jaw stiffened. “I don’t think so. We’re a bit more skilled than a Mongol horde. But my particular mission does not carry the best odds. I think meeting you just improved them.”
“What?”
He raised his rifle. “Drop the weapon.”
“What are you doing, Major?”
“Giving myself a chance to live another day.”
66
T HE PROCESSION BEGAN OUTSIDE the imperial residence. Three hybrids – Bartok Hyam, Alistair Kwan, and Joakim Cardenas – led the group. Bartok, the only hybrid without children, took the lead. Joakim’s two boys walked dutifully at their father’s side. Alistair held his young son’s hand, the boy still learning to walk. They dressed in the wild, festive colors displayed at Inauguration, their strut casual yet with a conspicuous air of superiority. Next, Brother James clasped his hands behind his
back while sons Benjamin and Peter carried their baby sisters, Martina and Irina. Walking in James’s shadow, as ordered, Sam marched to her fate.
Of all the ways to die, Sam thought, this might be the most outrageous and shameful. Rayna planned to sacrifice her in public for reasons only a jealous, mildly insane Cossack might understand. No matter what Rayna or the creature she called ‘husband’ suggested about the Jewels, this act was personal. What statement they meant to send to their hearty band of Berserkers and the army of immortals mystified Sam. She didn’t care anymore. After three months in darkness, she should have known a week of false hope bathed in sunlight and the exuberance of children was akin to a last supper.
Alongside the procession, six of those child soldiers marched quietly. They acted like security, setting cautious eyes down passing streets and toward the sky. They held their blast rifles at chest level, their helmets retracted. Sam recognized one from yesterday at the food production line. They arrived in JaRa on the same Scramjet.
She tried to catch Rikhi Syed’s eye. Might they share a smile or passing wink? The boy looked every way but hers. Sam didn’t blame him. He had orders, and he dared not risk Brother James’s ire.
A few other immortals followed the procession from parallel streets. Sam glimpsed them moving at the same pace. There! It was brief, but she saw Rosa Marteen among the followers. Rosa, who made a friend of a Chancellor hostage without reservation.
Once, she saw Valentin on a rifter. He had the answers she craved but made no move to join the processional. He focused on an open holocube. What went wrong? Did he lose faith in her?
Sam’s misfortune increased as James lectured to his boys with a volume clearly intended to be heard from behind.
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 145
