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

by G. S. Jennsen

“Major Ettore, make our heading an additional S 12°.”

  Ettore chuckled. “Copy that.”

  Captain Casales: “First unit is in range. Firing.”

  Brigadier Jenner (Saratoga): “Tripoli, Caracas, commence firing at any and all component assembly units in range, west to east progression.

  Confirmations followed, and the viewport lit up in the glow of lasers meeting, ripping into and melting metal. The distant sun reflected off the projectiles created for added effect—at least until the projectiles vanished into the rifts surrounding the attacking vessels.

  Twenty minutes later, a facility that had manufactured four hundred battlecruisers a week lay in ruins. Nothing larger than thirty meters populated the debris field.

  The automated defenses were no match for twelve thousand ships from the AEGIS fleet, and they met no active resistance. In executing the ambush they had followed the Machim model by bringing far greater firepower than was required to complete the mission. It was the latest strike in a campaign to swiftly nullify the Machim’s biggest advantage: numbers.

  No doubt they’d meet greater resistance in future missions, but for today it appeared they would chalk up a decisive victory.

  SIYANE

  Alex watched the fireworks from a bird’s eye vantage above and to the left of one of the primary assembly lines, for the moment. She could move freely among the cacophony of explosions and shattering metal, however, without fear of injury.

  For she wasn’t really there.

  The Siyane, and her with it, were safely tucked away thirteen kiloparsecs from the Machim Fleet Fabrication Center under attack, but only a few dozen meters from a solitary teleportation gate situated on a rocky, barren world bearing the uninspiring moniker of MW-2189c.

  She drifted among the lasers and mounting debris enjoying the show, as her role in the mission was essentially complete. She could pitch in to provide target advice or location pointers, but in truth this mission was mostly about blowing shit up, and the military didn’t need her help with that.

  So she watched the impressive destruction-in-progress with half her attention as her mind began to wander to other matters. “Remind me to talk to Mesme about Sotiras. The Kat could use a round of coaching on how to interact with people.”

  Valkyrie’s voice resonated in her mind—also in the cabin of the Siyane, but she didn’t try to split her attention yet further to hear it. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’

  “Yes, it was. But I guess we shouldn’t expect too much when the B-team fills in.”

  ‘Still, the mission would have been all but impossible without Sotiras’ assistance in infiltrating the facility.’

  “Not Sotiras specifically, since any random Kat would have sufficed. But, yes, the infiltration assist was definitely helpful. We need….”

  Alex absently fiddled with the tiny Reor slab she’d removed from her pocket at some point. She understood Anaden security protocols and information storage and retrieval methodologies fairly well now, having studied the details both Mesme and Eren had provided, but more so having hacked and deep-dived Machim Central Command servers. This latest foray into the inner workings of one of their systems only reinforced her belief that she now had a solid grasp of the tech and processes involved.

  ‘Yes? What do we need?’

  “We need to figure out a way to tap into their systems remotely—or permanently. We need to get inside their overall network. This single location, physical infiltration routine is nonsense. It’s unreliable and puts our people, and sometimes me, in unnecessary danger.”

  ‘The Directorate’s rampant paranoia makes doing as you suggest a difficult proposition. Information they treat as valuable is not designed to be widely shared and is walled off from remote interconnections.’

  “Well, we need to find a way.”

  ‘I will make a note.’

  Alex’s focus gradually returned to the ongoing sacking of the Fabrication Center, and she realized she’d been staring at a semi-hidden piece of equipment while she and Valkyrie talked. She’d been waiting for it to crack apart or vaporize entirely, yet it remained intact.

  Alexis Solovy (Siyane): “Somebody target the blocky module suspended below the central structure in Q3, near the rear—S 21° W z 8°—and your pesky defense turret problem will be no more.”

  A message arrived in an off-channel pulse.

  ‘Somebody’? Please try to maintain at least a small amount of decorum on the open channels.

  Sorry, Mom. I just don’t speak military.

  ‘Technically, you do. I have available for instant recall the designations of all formations in the AEGIS-led fleet down to the squad level, as well as every named ship. I also keep databases of modern military nomenclature.’

  Alex grumbled under her breath. “Shhh. She doesn’t need to be reminded of that.”

  A staccato of explosions rippled through the module in question.

  “See, though? ‘Somebody’ took care of it.”

  ‘SF Northern Fleet Fighter Squadron #143, to be precise.’

  “Yes, Valkyrie. Thank you.”

  A completed component storage unit she’d mentally wandered near during the exchange abruptly disintegrated, sending metal shards to envelop the space her consciousness occupied.

  Like shattered glass. But none pierced her, instead falling through her untouched like the ghost she had become.

  No. She allowed the déjà vu to flare, rooted in a memory from Portal Prime, but she wasn’t a ghost. Not this time. Moments such as this, she wasn’t certain exactly what she was—human, Prevo, and maybe something still unfathomable as well—but she was making peace with the ambiguity.

  Okay, Mom. You seem to have things well in hand, so I’ll leave you and your esteemed fleet to mop up things here. I’m supposed to pick Caleb up in a few minutes.

  Understood. Rendezvous at Staging Point C1 in three hours for an AEGIS Council meeting. And lunch after, if you’d like.

  Sounds good.

  She laughed to herself. They were making lunch date plans while she projected her consciousness across over a dozen kiloparsecs into the middle of a space battle, if a rather one-sided one, her mother actively commanded. All of this was taking place in a universe other than their own, and it was all somehow normal.

  Her life had always been unconventional, but occasionally it caught her by surprise just how damn improbable it could be.

  2

  ANARCH POST SATUS

  LOCATION UNKNOWN

  * * *

  “WHAT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND IS THIS: though the diati is an independent life form and in principle separate from you, its interaction with reality—with the tangible universe—exists solely as a manifestation of your will. It is a tool under your direction. If you are strong enough, it is a tool under your absolute control.”

  Caleb was skeptical for more than one reason. “You’re saying the diati is disposed to subsume itself completely to my will, to my…desires, whatever they happen to be?”

  “It would not have joined with you otherwise. Having chosen you, this is now its purpose.”

  Caleb started to challenge Nisi to justify the assertion, but he understood why the man believed it. He’d sensed the diati’s initial free will, and the gradual erosion of it, in the dream-visions. Admittedly, he was curious whether the man had been shown the same visions or had come to this conclusion through experience, but sufficient trust didn’t exist between them for him to probe deeper. Not yet.

  Danilo Nisi, Sator of the anarch resistance movement in Amaranthe, sat opposite him on the facing couch, far enough away to avoid triggering an incident. Caleb had tried to tell his diati not to steal Nisi’s, but it seemed the decision belonged to the diati Nisi controlled, and Caleb couldn’t communicate with it.

  Interesting that the choice of allegiance marked both a stark and continuing exception to what the man had just stated about the diati’s lack of agency. But it made a certain amount of sense. If the choice of allegiance
was made wisely, no other choices need be made.

  The practical consequence, though, here on the ground, was that he needed to keep his distance. The fact that Nisi was willing to help him—to teach him, as it were—was more than he’d expected. He may not trust the anarch leader, but he was grateful for the help, and he didn’t intend to foul it up by absconding with the small amount of diati the man wielded, and evidently treasured.

  “Are you ready to begin?”

  He straightened up and tried to focus his intentions. Nisi’s instructions repeated themselves in his mind. Don’t try to force the action. Simply command it to be so. Know it will be so.

  The boot sitting on the floor between them vanished, only to reappear several meters away by one of the windows.

  Nisi considered the footwear critically. “Is it located where you intended for it to move to?”

  He nodded.

  “How closely?”

  “Fairly close. I had in mind not quite so far away from the window. But I was concerned it would end up outside and—” he lifted a socked foot “—I kind of need it when I leave, so I may have subconsciously waffled on the distance.”

  “Understandable. But if you are precise in your intent, it will be precise in its execution. Trust the diati, for it is your ally.”

  “But it was the ally of its former masters, right up until the moment it abandoned them. How can I trust it won’t do the same to me?”

  Nisi stood and went over to the refreshment bar to pour a drink. It was an act intended to signal relaxation, but it also had the effect of hiding his reaction from Caleb. “It’s not my place to answer that question.”

  “But you can answer it?”

  Nisi took a long sip of his drink. “I have lived with the diati for a very long time. I’ve watched generations of Inquisitors use it in more ways than I ever could have dreamed up. I’ve spent hours likely adding up to years contemplating its nature. In six hundred thousand years, you are the only instance I’m aware of where it has abandoned a host for another of its own volition.”

  “You’re six hundred thousand years old?” Earlier comments by Nisi had implied he might be a few millennia old, but now he was suggesting another order of magnitude altogether.

  To live so long would surely drive a person stark raving mad, wouldn’t it? Caleb recognized the Primors were technically this old or older, but they had tweaked and ‘improved’ themselves through regenesis so many times they must bear little resemblance to their original selves. Also, they were stark raving mad.

  Nisi’s expression revealed nothing as he returned to the couch. “Pick up your glass of water. Hold it in your hand, then move it to the bar.”

  Caleb let the blatant evasion of his question slide for the time being and did as instructed. The man was an intriguing cipher, but he was here to learn, and he needed to learn fast. “Apologies in advance for any mess that results.”

  But no mess resulted. The glass vanished from his hand and materialized atop the bar, water contents and all, and didn’t take any portion of his hand with it. He felt his confidence grow in response to the success, and quickly tempered it with the memory of times when he was not so in control of the power.

  “Excellent.”

  Caleb pursed his lips. “When I run across a Praesidis—when I absorb new diati—it’s chaotic. For a while. Minutes, or hours if it’s a large dose, pass before I’m fully in control again. What can I do to either lessen the length of time or increase my control during it?”

  “I’m afraid your experience in this matter is unique. As I noted, you are the only one. But I can offer a few thoughts. The act of transferring from the Praesidis to you is an act of free will on the part of the diati, and it is perhaps the first such act it’s performed in cosmic ages. It stands to reason that after such a momentous event, it will take some time for the diati to settle down.

  “The best advice I have for you is to not fight it. Welcome it, and do so with a…not a firm hand, but a resolute one. It needs you to accept its presence, not the other way around.”

  “I haven’t been fighting it.”

  “If you say so.”

  Caleb opened his mouth to protest, but a pulse came in from Alex then.

  Machim Sector 46 Fleet Fabrication Center is officially space dust, with no resistance to speak of. I’m here whenever you’re ready.

  Great news. I’ll be along in a few minutes. Maybe fifteen or twenty.

  “The AEGIS fleet successfully destroyed the Sector 46 Fleet Fabrication Center.”

  “Good. I assume AEGIS is aware there are twenty-five additional such facilities in operation?”

  “And now there is one less than there was this morning. Why are you willing to help me, yet so dismissive of AEGIS’ efforts?”

  “I’ve told you, Caleb—I believe you are the key. You are the fulcrum that will transform the world. As such, you are what matters most in this fight.”

  He rolled his eyes in frustration. “The fleet matters, too, because I can’t singlehandedly destroy two dozen Machim warship manufacturing facilities.”

  “Are you so certain?”

  “Snapping a few necks or crushing the odd Vigil drone is one thing, and that thing is a long damn way from destroying massive space stations.”

  Nisi tapped his temple.

  “You think the difference is all in my head?”

  The man made a prevaricating motion. “Not exactly. Size, or more accurately mass, obviously does factor in. If I’m saying anything, it is that you don’t yet recognize the full measure of the power you can wield. You already control more diati than any single Inquisitor, including the elassons. In point of fact, this means you control more diati than any individual save—” the muscles lining his jaw flexed “—the Praesidis Primor.

  “Now, I cannot say if this means you have the ability to destroy a space station or, as it were, a warship manufacturing facility. But I do submit that you can do a great deal more than move a glass of water a few meters. You have scarcely begun to test the limits of your power.”

  He flashed his charismatic, mysterious smile. “Now, with this in mind, are you ready to take the next step?”

  Despite Caleb’s attempts at caution—at circumspection and even suspicion—the man’s words stirred his blood. They teased the possibilities of the power within his reach, real power extending far beyond parlor tricks and personal protection to a place where the course of life itself could be changed.

  “I am.”

  PLANET MW-2189C

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 33

  Alex was waiting on him when he stepped through the teleportation gate, and the sight of her instantly brightened his mood. She’d only partaken in the AEGIS mission virtually, but he was relieved to see her safe nonetheless. Always.

  She wore a breather mask dangling around her neck, and he took advantage of the fact it wasn’t covering her mouth to kiss her fully in front of the gate. Then he did his best to act casual during the short walk to the Siyane.

  She eyed him curiously. “How did it go today?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Well enough. Seeing the facility taken out so spectacularly was definitely satisfying, if a tad boring by the end. There was this notable sequence when all the trip sensor proximity mines blew at once…” her voice trailed off “…what happened in the session?”

  He dropped the act, as it clearly wasn’t working anyway, and coaxed her toward the Siyane faster. “Come on. Let’s get inside, and I’ll show you.”

  He could feel her stare boring into the back of his head as she trailed him up the ramp. When the inner airlock had closed behind them, he positioned her beside the data center. “Stay there.”

  She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, but complied. He continued through the cabin until he reached the kitchen counter, glanced at her, then concentrated on the area between her and the couch—

  —Alex jumped, a startled gasp escaping her lips. She gaped at him in a
mazement, as he was now standing directly in front of her. “You figured out how to do it!”

  He smirked. “I did.”

  She cackled and wrapped her arms around him. “Can you teleport me, too?”

  “Whoa, slow down. One thing at a time. Let me practice a little first.”

  “Okay….”

  He kissed her pout away. “I’ll practice fast.”

  “You better.” Her lips twitched against his. “I guess for now we’ll have to do it the hard way and fly all the way to the Stalwart II. Mom’s called a meeting.”

  AFS STALWART II

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 19

  Commander Morgan Lekkas tapped her boot impatiently on the skid-resistant flooring of the AFS Stalwart II’s hangar bay. A brief shift into sidespace to peer around the region outside the ship confirmed the shuttle from the AFS Saratoga was on approach to dock, so it would just be another minute.

  Her boot tapped faster.

  All this shuttling around from vessel to vessel straight-up sucked. The Eidolons’ official home was on the carrier AFS Tamao. The AEGIS fighters and multi-role attack craft, however, including the one she’d been piloting, docked on the AFS San Carlos. After the Sector 46 Fleet Fabrication Center mission, she’d taken a special dispensation and docked on the Tamao, under the justification that the Eidolons were her responsibility and she needed to do a thorough post-mission debrief and inspection. It was faster than taking yet another a shuttle.

  Harper, however, was assigned to the AFS Saratoga with the Marine tactical assault detachments. The Saratoga was neither the Tamao nor the San Carlos. Sleeping apart more nights than not also sucked.

  Relationships complicated everything. Military relationships, doubly so. Or hell, maybe they were only half as complicated; she didn’t have enough experience with commitment to say for certain.

  Meetings of the AEGIS leadership and advisory Council were held on the AFS Stalwart II, of course—well, not every meeting, as it would soon become absurdly inefficient. Many were held via holo. But important meetings, pre- and post-mission meetings, and crucial strategy sessions were held in person. Allegedly it was good for morale, but mostly it meant more shuttle rides.