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

by G. S. Jennsen

  It was a brilliant response, and Alex burst out laughing. “And now I think we’ve covered the topic sufficiently. Moving on—though this does remind me of a question I had.” She ignored Caleb’s raised eyebrow. “How best to put this. Why is there an entire Dynasty dedicated to…partying? At a minimum, it seems at odds with the Directorate’s governing philosophy of ‘contribute or be Eradicated.’ ”

  “True enough. But the partying isn’t so much for us—isn’t for the Idonis, though they obviously enjoy it. The dirty little secret most never notice is that it’s a grand show for the benefit of the Accepted Species.

  “The Idoni Dynasty’s entire purpose is to cast a shroud over the harsh reality of Directorate rule—to convince everyone life is good here. The message is, ‘throw parties, get high, have mindless sex, eat succulent dishes and celebrate all the wanton pleasures our civilization provides. It’s fine. Go ahead. Forget your cares and worries and don’t ponder too hard on how the world works behind the shroud.’ ”

  She exhaled ponderously. “Well, that’s insidious and sinister. Did you understand, when you were still in the fold?”

  “No. This one you can only see from the outside. Bitch of a realization, too.”

  “I imagine so.” She took a long sip and straightened up in her chair. “Definitely moving on now. We’ve been studying your standard methods for storing and transmitting data, and Valkyrie’s right. If given direct access, we can hack it. So how do we get to it?”

  “You—”

  “Can’t. You said that already.” Caleb dropped his elbows to the table and leaned in. “But how could we?”

  Eren tipped his chair onto two legs and contemplated the ceiling. “One idea did occur to me. It will never work, but it’s the only idea standing the slightest iota of a chance of working.”

  “We’re waiting.”

  The front legs of the chair landed on the floor, and he leveled an unsettling stare on Caleb. “You could impersonate an Inquisitor and claim you’re on assignment to investigate a breach in the Machim data server.”

  Caleb’s face contorted through various aspects of turmoil, none of which surprised her. He continued to recoil from any insinuation he shared characteristics with the Anaden who had tried to kill them, or with any of its kind.

  Abruptly he shoved back from the table and stood to go to the kitchen. “No. Find another plan.”

  “There is no other plan. This isn’t even a plan, merely a nugget of an idea for the start of a plan that’s certain to fail and end in your death…unless the diati won’t let you die.”

  What? It had healed Caleb’s injuries from the attack in the hangar bay on Seneca, but surely this didn’t mean…. She pulsed him, recognizing he didn’t want to linger on the topic with Eren.

  Is he right?

  I don’t know. How can I know?

  Excellent point. Don’t test it to find out.

  He offered her a weak shrug over his shoulder. “I have no reason to think that’s the case. Regardless…is this truly the only way?”

  “I’ve spent eighty years sneaking into places I’m not supposed to be. It’s the only possible way I can come up with.”

  “What about your superiors?”

  “In the anarchs? They’d be nuts to authorize such a mission. It’s too risky and too apt to fail, and failure jeopardizes the entire resistance movement. Plus, success wouldn’t result in much practical, actionable intel. Not for the anarchs. Which begs the question why it would for you, but I don’t expect you’ll tell me.”

  Caleb closed his eyes. She doubted it was to dodge the question, though he also didn’t answer it. After a beat he reopened them and returned to his seat. “If I were to do this, what would it mean?”

  “We’d set up false credentials for you, then you’d glower your way through security and demand access to Data Control. But you’d have to act the part completely—a hooded cloak and a flash of diati won’t get it done this time. Without anyone to guide you, you’d get tripped up in the first two minutes by some procedure or custom.”

  Alex drummed her fingers on the table. “We could put him in a Veil.”

  Caleb smiled, and she thought the thrill of the challenge was, at least for the moment, overtaking his resistance. “Brilliant. That would work.”

  “I’m guessing ‘him’ is me? What’s a Veil?”

  “An…invisibility cloak. Not only visually invisible, but across the spectrum.”

  “I seriously doubt you have stealth technology advanced enough to fool Machim Central Command security.”

  She was getting a little tired of him assuming they were barbarians. “We’ll prove you wrong.”

  “No, you won’t, because I’m not going. I never said I was going. I’m reckless and daring—all my non-friends say so—but I’m not nulling out for the third time in five months for no good reason.”

  Caleb ignored Eren’s protests. “This gets me to the data server. But Alex, you’re who we really need to get there. You and Valkyrie are the ones who can hack the server. We could use two Veils, but it’s asking for pratfalls, collisions or other spatial screw-ups.”

  She nodded in vehement agreement. Walking around anywhere while invisible was surprisingly disorienting; doing so in an unfamiliar location staffed with armed enemies where the slightest misstep meant disaster made for a spectacularly bad idea.

  Given a fix on Caleb’s location once he arrives at the data server, I can teleport you there.

  She jumped half out of the chair. “Dammit, Mesme! I have asked you not to sneak aboard and hide.”

  You indicated you had retrieved Eren asi-Idoni. I assumed my presence was anticipated.

  “Your presence up here, in the main cabin, in full view of everyone, not lurking…wherever you were. You know, after spying on humanity since we crawled out of the dirt, I’d expect you to have a better appreciation of our social customs.”

  Apologies.

  Meanwhile, Valkyrie was having a crisis of conscience. Oh, dear. Did I sound like Mesme earlier, when Eren arrived?

  Maybe a tad. But you were also correct. Mesme’s behavior reflects a lack of understanding of a simple facet of human interaction, while yours reflected a deeply nuanced understanding of it.

  Oh. Yes, I see the distinction. Thank you.

  Eren was eyeing Mesme—as much as one could eye the amorphous form—warily, but Caleb’s expression had brightened. “That’s a great idea, Mesme. All the more so because then, once Alex and Valkyrie are done, you can teleport all of us out and back to the Siyane.”

  This is a task I can perform.

  Eren’s gaze continued to track Mesme around the cabin. “If teleporting people out of tight spots is a service your Kat provides, why didn’t it just grab me and teleport me onto your ship at MW Sector 23 Administration?”

  Two reasons. One, the process takes several seconds to complete, and as Alexis has previously demonstrated, during those seconds a transportee is free to escape. Since you would not have foreseen the teleportation or comprehended its purpose, there was a high probability of you attempting such an escape.

  She laughed, remembering their initial meeting with Mesme on Portal Prime. Running for the shield generator had been the right thing to do in such astonishing ways, it turned out.

  Even Eren smiled. “You got me there.”

  Two, performing the teleportation would have resulted in multiple Vigil officers, including a Praesidis Watchman and two guards, seeing a Katasketousya aid in the escape of a criminal. Such an event cannot be allowed to be witnessed.

  “Oh, good point. They might start to think you were being disobedient. Can’t have that.”

  Alex groaned. “Here we go again….”

  Eren held up a hand. “No, I mean it. I’m sorry if it came across as sarcasm, as it wasn’t this time. If some of the Kats are scheming toward rebellion—which, ludicrous a notion as it is, it seems they are—they cannot under any circumstances allow the Directorate to find out. I agree.�
��

  He regarded her and Caleb in increasing annoyance. “Arae anathema. You’re genuinely planning to do this, aren’t you? And I’m going, aren’t I? Zeus’ marbles…I hope Post Alpha has arranged to get a new body ready. Again.”

  He ran both hands down his face. “But wait. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, as there’s another hurdle—there are a thousand hurdles, but this one is perhaps the biggest, logistically speaking. If you’re planning to impersonate an Inquisitor, I meant it when I said you must do it completely. Inquisitors don’t travel on common transports or courier vessels. You need to show up on Machimis and dock in one of their ships.”

  He sank back and crossed his arms, as if confident he’d torpedoed the plan and escaped responsibility.

  “We can do that.”

  “Can you now?”

  She’d earned the right to be smug here, dammit. So she was. “You don’t think the hull of this ship actually looks like a common courier vessel, do you?”

  “It does look like a common courier vessel.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Valkyrie, we’re safe enough out here in the middle of nowhere to disable the cloaking shield projection for a minute.”

  ‘Done.’

  “Terrific. Now swing a visual sensor around and transfer what it captures to the data center table.”

  ‘Also done.’ Above the table an image of the Siyane’s lustrous tungsten silver hull cast against the blackness of space shimmered into solidity.

  Eren frowned.

  “You can take a spacewalk to confirm it if you want, but I promise you, this is the real hull.”

  He nodded slowly. “You’re projecting a hologram of a false hull.”

  “It’s a bit more complicated in the details, but yes.”

  “A shame. It’s a lovely craft.”

  She’d take the compliment. “Thank you. Unfortunately, it would attract notice.”

  “Yes, it would.” Eren scratched at his jaw. “So….”

  “Valkyrie, you know what to do.”

  ‘I do. I need another eight seconds to complete the reconstruction.’

  “Take your time.”

  Alex leisurely sipped on her wine until the image of the Siyane flickered and was replaced by a perfect copy of the hull of the Inquisitor ship they had confiscated on Seneca, then motioned dramatically. “One Inquisitor ship, at our service.”

  Eren went over to the data table and circled it, head tilting this way then the other as he inspected the projection. “Impressive. It’s a little large for an Inquisitor vessel, but I’m guessing you can’t physically shrink the ship. It should suffice.”

  He considered them curiously. “So have you run across an Inquisitor vessel, or did you get these details from your Kat?”

  Their Kat has a name.

  She shrugged imploringly at Eren. He was being rather rude to Mesme.

  Caleb’s voice was forcefully casual, and she heard the undercurrent of tension in it. “We had an encounter.”

  “And you lived? Though…” Eren’s eyes narrowed at Caleb “…interesting. You do look so much like them.”

  No way had he figured it all out, but he was on the trail.

  Caleb stood up from the table. “I’m not Praesidis, and I am most certainly not an Inquisitor.”

  “No…but I think you’re going to make a pretty good stand-in for one.”

  A somber, laden silence descended over the cabin. The myriad implications and possibilities lying beneath the interchange purled through the air like Moirai spectres weaving their threads of fate.

  Alex plopped her elbows on the desk with deliberate flair and donned a broad smile. “What Dynasty would I be from, do you think?”

  Eren shook his head. “None. Your unique mix of…queerness does not exist here.”

  “What, there’s no ‘explorer’ Dynasty? Considering how vast the Directorate’s empire is, I’d expect there to be an explorer Dynasty.”

  “Machines—non-sentient programmed drones—do the exploring. They go, they record, they report back.”

  Valkyrie interjected then. ‘Were I to speculate, which I am about to, I suspect these traits—an affinity for exploration, for venturing into the unknown and chasing the answers to mysteries, for reveling in the wonder of discovery—were bred out of the genome long ago. They are far too unpredictable, and thus far too dangerous.’

  A pout grew on Alex’s lips, but inwardly she was relieved when Caleb’s face lit up in amusement. Mission accomplished. “Well, it’s their loss.”

  Eren appeared to be readying a retort when his eyes unfocused into a vacant stare for several seconds. “I’ve received a message from a friend. Is it possible for us to take a small side-trip to some coordinates I’ll provide? The location is in dead space, and I promise it will be worth your time.”

  AURORA

  28

  ROMANE

  IDCC COLONY

  * * *

  MALCOLM FOUND MIA SITTING ALONE on one of the visitor benches in the hallway outside Commander Lekkas’ room. Her arms rested on her thighs and her head rested in her hands, the effect of which was to send her long raven hair spilling messily down to hide her face.

  He’d come here to check on Harper and had spent the trip brooding about Paredes and Devore, but he wasn’t ashamed to admit all his concern pivoted to Mia on seeing her sitting there in such a state, distress radiating off of her in waves.

  She heard him coming and splayed open two fingers to peer at him from behind a curtain of locks as he approached, but didn’t otherwise move.

  He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, and she instantly shifted to sink against him. “I’m so damn tired…but I can’t afford to be. I have to fix this. I have to fix them.”

  He stroked her cheek and murmured softly in the direction of her ear. “This isn’t all on you. The doctors and techs here are some of the best in the galaxy, and I hear the IDCC is putting every resource at their disposal.”

  “Isn’t it on me, though? I’ve got a five-dimensional synthetic alien virus in cold stasis on one floor and a hybrid quantum/human consciousness in a coma on another. No one else can understand what’s wrong with the victims like I can, because I am them. I have to be smart enough to help them.”

  He kissed her temple. It wasn’t for him to say how right or wrong she may be. Of course he wanted everyone to recover, but he could only take care of her. “You’re no good to anyone unless you get some sleep.”

  She shook her head roughly against his shoulder. “No. I can run on stimulants and amps for another two days before I crash.”

  His hand drifted down until his fingertip reached her chin; he lifted it up to catch her gaze. “At least let me run you home to refresh. You can take a proper shower, and while you do that, I’ll make you some food that doesn’t come out of an auto-dispenser. Then you can come back to the hospital, and I won’t argue.”

  She remained as elegant as ever in fitted hunter green pants and a tailored charcoal tunic. But synthetic stimulants couldn’t stop the bags under her eyes from darkening or a more elemental weariness from creeping into the lines framing her mouth.

  She stared at him briefly before giving in. “Okay. But I don’t want to be gone for longer than an hour or two.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She gave him a weak smile and rested her lips on his. “Thank you.”

  Malcolm studied the contents of Mia’s pantry. Years of military service meant his cooking style—and skill—tended toward the simple, calorie-dense staples. Luckily, those were exactly what she needed tonight.

  “Hey, do you want red or sweet potatoes?”

  When several seconds passed without a response, he went over to the archway setting off the kitchen and leaned into the living room.

  Her head lay on the arm of the couch. She’d fallen asleep half-sitting up, one leg curled underneath her and the other dangling off the cushion.

  Even highly trained, cybernetically enhanced speci
al forces Marines on critical missions needed a few hours of sleep every couple of days. She did, too, whether she admitted it or not.

  He went back into the kitchen and put the chicken and beans in the refrigeration unit. Then he moved to the couch and oh-so-gently gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  He was smiling the whole way.

  Despite the unfair suffering plaguing too many people in his orbit, despite the angst permeating the Presidio in recent days, despite empathizing acutely with Mia’s frustration in trying to help those injured, despite his heavy sorrow over his former squadmates’ deaths…despite all of those reasons to be sad, he couldn’t deny he was…happy.

  Simply being with her made him happy. No matter how brief the visit, no matter how solemn the mood, he still felt all warm and buoyed when she was near.

  The recognition should make him retreat, or at a minimum make him twitch. He should be leery of letting another person get in close after a string of failed long-term relationships capped off by a failed short-term marriage. The military tended to do that to relationships, though—knocked out the shaky foundations of anything not strong enough to weather the abuse.

  He didn’t know what that meant for them yet.

  She’d donned a silk robe after showering, so he didn’t need to fuss with discarding shoes or uncomfortable clothes. He eased her onto the bed and arranged the covers over her.

  After watching her to make sure she didn’t stir, he crept around to the other side, dealt with his shoes and uncomfortable clothes, and climbed in next to her. He lay there listening to her breathe for several minutes before succumbing to sleep himself.

  Malcolm awoke with a silent, honed clarity, as Marines were trained to do.

  He couldn’t identify what had awakened him, but something had. Something that didn’t belong in the sounds of the night in an unpretentious but upper-class residential neighborhood on Romane.

  He eased away from Mia’s sleeping form as carefully as possible while his eyes checked the room for intruders then fixated on the door. He retrieved his gun from the bedside table and his pants from the floor; next, he activated the personal shield attached to the pants’ waistband, flattened against the wall and nudged the door open a few centimeters.