Aurora Resonant: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 3)

by G. S. Jennsen

  ‘We are undergoing regularly scheduled cessation of superluminal travel to disperse the exotic particles created so we don’t kill everyone on Arcadia when we arrive. While traveling on impulse power, routine scans detected the vessel.’

  He needed water. Or beer. After a few seconds of standing at the kitchen cubbyhole debating the relative benefits, he opted for the beer and carried it to the cockpit of the Blackbeard.

  “So it’s a ship. In space. That’s where you usually find them. I assume it’s not actively attacking us, so what’s the deal?”

  ‘The vessel is a dead zone, so much so we almost ran over it before I realized it was there. It’s not transmitting any identification or other signals. Its engines are dormant, no shields are present and I’m detecting no life signs on board. It’s possible the crew abandoned ship at some point.’

  Settling into the cockpit chair, he called up the visual images and immediately whistled. Crown-class hybrid transport, and fairly new by the look of it. A vessel like this would bring in a decent bounty, especially if what was wrong with it was easily repaired. “Abandoned ship, you say?”

  ‘That or the crew is dead inside.’

  “Jesus, Barbie. Do you have to be so morbid?”

  ‘I haven’t decided yet. I am still becoming.’

  “Great….” Barbarella was a shit Artificial, cobbled together from second-hand parts and sketchy code. He’d commissioned her because he needed an Artificial onboard if he hoped to continue to compete in the newly batty world of freelance scouting. So far she couldn’t do much more than add two and two on a good day, but she had personality. Sometimes too much of it.

  He sipped on the beer and studied the vessel, weighing his options. He had a job delivery to make on Arcadia, a refrigerated capsule full of microbes from a comet orbiting Mu Cephei down in the cargo hold. They might be some previously undiscovered form of primordial life birthed out in the void—or they might just be ordinary microbes. Hell if he knew. The scientists at Zwicky Research were paying him to bring them in so they could find out, which was enough for him.

  But he had another week to make good on the contract, and the microbes were fine in the refrigeration unit. This wouldn’t take long, either; he’d stick a beacon on the ship to claim it then arrange for a tug to tow it in.

  On the other hand, it could be carrying cargo worth more than the ship’s salvage value. Play it right, and he could cash in on both.

  He rubbed at his jaw. A spacewalk was a pain in the ass, but he guessed every now and then he did have to work a little bit for a payoff.

  He chucked the empty beer into the recycler and stood. “All right. I’m going to go see what she’s carrying.”

  “You’re sure it’s lost all power? If I have to go back for det charges, I’m docking your pay.”

  ‘My math skills are admittedly subpar—as you frequently point out—but I believe any fraction of zero is still zero, much like my current pay. Yes, I’m sure. The magnetic seals should release with the application of minimal force.’

  Bob fired his suit thrusters and accelerated toward the ship. Its dark metal—not adiamene, unfortunately, as that would have quadrupled its salvage value—loomed dim and shadowy against the void, like a ghost ship. A pirate ghost ship? He snickered.

  The hull filled his vision soon enough, and shortly thereafter he banged into the side with a rough thud. He picked his way over to the outer hatch, retrieved a chisel from his pack and stuck the flat end into the tiny seam. A little muscle applied, and the hatch popped open.

  There was no hiss of escaping air, but it wasn’t a surprise. Hatch chambers were only pressurized in advance of opening the inner hatch—something he now needed to do. He reached around and hefted the outer hatch closed…then stopped.

  Shit. If it wouldn’t seal, when he opened the inner door the outer one was going to blow open and depressurize the cabin, which was almost always a bad idea. He could glue it shut with some epoxy, but then he wouldn’t be able to get back out.

  ‘Simply leave through the cargo hold, dumbass.’

  He sighed. “I’d yell at you for insulting me, but you’re spot on. I am a dumbass. Gluing the hatch shut.”

  The process took less than thirty seconds. Once he finished he turned to the inner hatch and prepared himself for the influx of atmosphere before prying it open.

  It slid open as soon as the chisel made contact—and nothing happened. “Hell. The cabin’s already depressurized. I hope anything valuable was tied down.”

  His mag boots kept him grounded and upright as he stepped into the dark cabin. The light from his headlamp created an arc of brightness in front of him, but since crap was sure to be floating everywhere, he moved cautiously.

  He was swatting away a broken shard of glass when something heavy bumped into him from the left. His arm swung around to shove it off as he spun toward it. The light caught dark material then—

  —Bob gasped and stumbled backward, feeling for the wall. His hand found something squishy instead; in his panicking state he swore it clawed at him. He dropped to the floor and crawled for the airlock. “Fuck shit holy mother of!”

  ‘Your suit systems indicate you are in extreme distress, as does your language. What is wrong?’

  He tried to breathe normally, but acid clogged his throat. “You were fucking right, Barbie. Damn you, you thought you were being funny, but you were right. The crew didn’t abandon ship. They’re all dead.”

  ‘Oh, my.’

  He reached the airlock chamber and huddled against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate as a third body floated limply across the shaking arc of light.

  It didn’t make sense. Ship systems didn’t fail all at once, not catastrophically—not without an external force causing the failure. But there was no sign the ship had been attacked. The crew should have had time to get into their environment suits, or at least put on breather masks. But they hadn’t done so. What in the hell had killed them?

  “Barbie, contact SENTRI. Tell them they may have a massacre on their hands. Then figure out how to get this hatch I just glued shut open, because I’m not making it to the cargo hold.”

  8

  PRESIDIO

  GALACTIC COMMON DEFENSE ACCORD (GCDA) HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  MIRIAM SOLOVY HADN’T ASKED FOR a three-sixty view of a sweeping array of warship assembly lines, nor of the void beyond them.

  The constant activity dancing at the edges of her vision was frankly distracting. She’d considered getting opaque filters for the windows installed on several occasions. But every time she started to place the order, she’d glance outside, think about how much David would have adored the view, how Alex had exclaimed in delight on seeing it the day before she left, and put the decision off another day.

  The view and the office providing it had come with the space station, which had come courtesy of Ronaldo Espahn. The business mogul had built the facility intending for it to serve as a new hub for his commercial ship production. Then, during the reign of former Prime Minister Winslow, Espahn’s Prevo daughter was attacked by a mob of OTS sympathizers in Madrid. The attackers were detained at the scene but released after a determination Espahn’s daughter was in violation of the anti-Prevo BANIA law.

  Despite the man’s wealth and influence, his daughter was sentenced to prison while she lay in a hospital bed with a crushed spine and internal injuries.

  In the aftermath of engineering the toppling of Winslow and repeal of BANIA, Miriam had seen to it charges were dropped against all Prevos who hadn’t committed other crimes. Freed of the specter of criminal prosecution, medical biosynth specialists were able to treat Espahn’s daughter and help her recover.

  The man expressed his appreciation to the Volnosti campaign and to Miriam personally by donating his nearly complete station to the GCDA the day the Accord was announced.

  She’d have preferred to refuse the ostentatious gift, but in an environment where every day brought an Anaden
attack closer, they didn’t have time to build a new station from scratch. And this one came with extensive offices, labs, storage space, flexible multi-purpose rooms and reasonable lodging. Most importantly, it came with the lattice framework required for large-scale zero-g ship manufacturing.

  So here she was. Commandant-General to a nascent multi-government agency born out of the necessity to prepare for a new manner of enemy.

  There had never been any question who was going to lead it—she had invented it, proposed it, defined it and bullied three interstellar empires’ leaders into not merely endorsing it but committing millions to it. Millions of credits and, when the time came, millions of people.

  Officially, the GCDA and its constituent divisions, AEGIS, SENTRI and ASCEND, were formed to ensure humanity would be prepared to meet any future hazard which emerged from the vastness of the cosmos.

  But Miriam and a few select others knew full well there was nothing in the vastness of the cosmos save the most primitive of life. Nothing but a single portal, and with it a single overwhelming threat.

  In truth, the GCDA’s mission was two-fold: to ensure humanity would be prepared to stand against the Anaden offensive and, should they be victorious, to ensure humanity was ready to not only exist but thrive in a reality of multiple universes teeming with aliens.

  Richard Navick knocked on the open doorframe, bringing a merciful end to her reverie. She motioned him in and spun her chair away from the view to face the desk and him. “What’s new in SENTRI’s world today?”

  SENTRI existed not so much to help defeat the Anaden threat as to try to make certain humanity’s various factions didn’t stumble their way into fighting each other again before the call came to fight the Anadens. Intergovernmental peace and relative harmony was a necessary prerequisite to a united galactic guardian force, after all.

  He settled into one of the chairs. “A twenty million credit theft at PanPacific Tech Labs that their CEO insists is the work of Federation spies. Twelve dead Triene mercs on a derelict transport near Atlantis. The Requi government asking for help in dealing with a recent influx of spiked chimerals, and the Shi Shen government asking for us to butt out of the investigation into allegations the Shào cartel bought their last election. You?”

  “A backlog of new tech proposals from ASCEND to review and probably approve. A supply chain problem for photal fiber that I suspect is Dynamis Corporation angling for more money. Status meetings with both Brigadier Jenner and Kennedy Rossi in the next two hours, after which I have to leave. I’m expected in Washington this evening for the celebration.”

  “I hear it’s going to be quite the gala affair.”

  She frowned. “It feels strange, even disingenuous, to be throwing a massive, galaxy-spanning party when we know another civilization-endangering crisis looms on the horizon. Should we really be engaging in such revelry right now?”

  Richard nodded fervently in response. “Yes. The people deserve it, now more than ever. And so do we. We need to remember why we fight, and why those who died did so. This next year stands a good chance of being pretty shitty, so now is an excellent time to remember why the fight is worth it.”

  Miriam dropped her chin in grudging acceptance. “And if we are going to go out, we should do it in style?”

  “More or less. You don’t have to give a speech, do you?”

  “No, thank god. I suspect the planners are afraid if they give me a microphone I’ll ruin the festive mood. No, I believe my role tonight is to stand still and look pretty—though truthfully, I think I’ll let Rychen handle that part, too. I’ll find a quiet alcove and work.”

  “And how is the new Fleet Admiral enjoying your office?”

  “It’s his office now, and about as well as you would expect. He hates it. Or he hates being cooped up on the ground and is taking it out on the office, anyway.” She sighed wistfully. “That was such a great office…but I need to be here now.”

  “Sure.” He stood. “I’ll get out of your way. I just wanted to check in. Will and I are heading out in a few hours ourselves. Graham’s asked us to join him at the Cavare celebration tonight. I think he’s lonely since we moved up here.”

  She didn’t entirely suppress a laugh.

  “What?”

  “It’s none of my business. But perhaps if Director Delavasi were a bit less…how he is, he might not be so lonely. The man has made his proverbial bed.”

  “And it’s his to sleep in. Alone, apparently, except when he’s paying. But he is my friend, so…” he shrugged “…off I go. Try to relax and have a little fun tonight.”

  “In Washington?”

  “Good point. Try not to burn any bridges—we may need them.”

  Brooklyn Harper spun so fast her movement would be all but invisible to the naked eye, were she visible to the naked eye to begin with.

  She shoved a blade hilt into the small of the back of the Marine she’d stood in front of barely a second earlier and deactivated the Veil wearing a devious smile. “This is what a Veil can do for you. Recognize its power, appreciate its power, use its power.”

  The Marine—Captain Shaviiz, if Malcolm Jenner recalled correctly—grimaced. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stepped in front of the other Marine. “When I come at you, defend yourself.”

  He adjusted his stance in preparation. She took a step forward then vaulted upward, propelled by fresh-off-the-assembly-line booster augments. The boosters consisted of two layers of electromagnetic femtocoils wrapped in a particle layer that generated a subatomic EM field on command from the wearer’s eVi—Malcolm had memorized the description the ASCEND team had provided—and were light and compact enough to be embedded inside the soles of standard work boots.

  She flipped over the Marine’s head and swiped the blade hilt across the base of his neck as she passed it, then landed on her feet behind him as he was whipping around in confusion.

  “If I’d pulled that maneuver while the Veil was active, you never would have known what killed you—you’d just be dead. Neat trick, right? Here’s the thing. We have lots of tools. We’ll probably have more tomorrow. But none of them are any good to you unless you’re smart about how you use them.

  “Everything you’ve learned up until today on hand-to-hand combat doesn’t go flying out the window because now you can be invisible and jump super-high. It’s still about defeating or disabling your enemy—but you now have additional tools you can incorporate into your strategy to accomplish that goal. Understand?”

  They both nodded solemnly; they’d been schooled, but he and Harper were the sole witnesses, by design.

  Harper took a lunge step back and spread her arms. “Good. Then take me down. Either of you. Both of you at once.” She tapped the thin band on her wrist, and a hybrid metallic fabric expanded out from it to encase her hand like a glove. “First one to succeed gets to learn what this tool does.”

  They would fail on the first try, but if they were good enough, one or both of them should succeed eventually. And if they were really good enough, they’d each recognize why they’d failed early on and impart those lessons to those under their command. Group classes and drills using the growing trove of advanced weapons and gear were on the schedule, but the first step was getting the squad leaders to adopt not merely those new tools but a…call it ‘evolved’ approach to warfare.

  Which was, in the end, the point of the exercise. No one person could train all the military personnel who might be called to action in a future war which might or might not take place in a thus-far mythical universe against an enemy for which they had a single (dead) example.

  But the military routinely prepared for future threats that seemed unlikely today because, somehow, they inevitably showed up tomorrow.

  Malcolm was here, working for AEGIS, to help guarantee the preparation both happened and happened in the right way. But he couldn’t deny that readying for a future alien threat was also…easier. Not when it came time to fight, of course, but this miss
ion bore a moral clarity which made it easier to sleep at night. He’d grown tired of fighting his fellow man, grown tired of tossing and turning while the whispers of competing justifications plagued him in the darkness.

  Better that the good guys be honorable, the bad guys evil, and a clear line drawn to keep them separate.

  Technically he was a full-time but temporary consultant to AEGIS, with a title too long to say in a single breath: Director of AEGIS Marine and Ground Forces Organization, Training and Deployment. The Alliance had tacked on a promotion to justify the position, though ostensibly it was for his heroism in eliminating the Montegreu ‘menace’ and in protecting the Scythian governor (from the Winslow ‘menace’ went unspoken for obvious mannerly reasons).

  More than one superior officer had protested the promotion, complaining it was far too soon and Malcolm was far too young. In the current political climate none had dared protest that he was a traitor for supporting Volnosti. The details had been relayed to him second- and third-hand, but apparently Miriam’s stock response was something to the effect of ‘The rest of the world is accelerating forward, and the military will not be left behind. I advise you to get onboard before you are.’

  Yes, he took a degree of comfort from the fact no one at AEGIS was apt to order him to kill-or-capture a colleague. But mostly him serving here at the Presidio felt like the next logical progression of the oath he’d taken years earlier: a pledge to protect humanity—all of humanity—from enemies intent on doing them harm. And he was comfortable with that step.

  Besides, he’d seen enough to know the threat was real, even if it didn’t feel real at the moment, here in a time of unparalleled prosperity and advancement. He’d seen the portal and the superdreadnoughts it had spawned. He’d seen the ethereal Metigen called Mnemosyne, the alien ship with its unusual technology and the alien body with its too-humanoid appearance.