Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  A shudder rippled through her bones, but she suppressed it before it reached her skin. She must not show weakness here.

  An ugly, utilitarian but behemoth cargo freighter approached her location. The Tabiji was a sizable ship—one of the largest in the Dominion’s small fleet—but it was soon swallowed up by the gaping hangar bay of the freighter like a minnow being consumed by a whale.

  The Tabiji settled to the deck in a tiny corner of the hangar bay. The next second a booming voice tore at her eardrums. “Asterion Dominion vessel. Provide your cargo manifest.”

  Gemina notched her chin up proudly, though she had no idea if anything living could see her. “5,420 biosynthetic life forms in stasis and in a suitable condition for incorporation.”

  “Open yourselves and deliver your cargo.”

  “Acknowledged.” Did they think they were speaking to the ship itself? Did they think the ship was a living being? Did it make a difference to them?

  On her command the wide bay doors lining the sides of the Tabiji swung out and down to rest against the hangar bay floor. Rows upon stacked rows of stasis chambers cascaded out of the hold and were captured by the thick arms of the machinery that staffed the hangar bay, then swiftly whisked away.

  “Your next contribution will consist of no less than 8,000 biosynthetic life forms. Our needs have grown.”

  She locked her jaw to ensure the protest exploding in her mind remained lodged in her throat. How in all the stars in the cosmos were they were going to deliver so high a number? Start snatching random people off the street? Such a tactic wouldn’t bode well for maintaining peace and order in the Dominion, which happened to be one of the Guides’ highest priorities.

  Had the time finally come when the once unthinkable—manufacturing new Asterions for the sole purpose of sacrificing them—remained as the only option left to them?

  She’d never envied the Guides less than she did right now, as one fact above all had been made abundantly clear to her before they had entrusted her with this nightmarish duty: defiance was not an option.

  She exhaled with stoic poise. “Acknowledged. Request permission to depart.”

  “Granted.”

  The cargo freighter expelled the Tabiji from its cavernous belly. She wasted no time in reversing course and speeding away, eager to rid herself of the oppressive terror of the Rasu stronghold, though less eager to return to the Guides and deliver the bad news.

  But distance did nothing to lessen the dread that came from terrible knowledge—knowledge Nika Kirumase should be showering Gemina with thanks for saving her from having to bear. Twice now! Ungrateful bitch.

  Of course, at this rate it might not matter for much longer. For the vice grip of the Rasu was steadily tightening around them, with no end to their ravenous demands in sight and no way to escape the swift and violent annihilation that failure to meet those demands would bring down upon the Dominion.

  56

  * * *

  “Unconditional surrender.”

  Supreme Commander Praesidis gazed back at me with an air of chilling calmness, which he was renowned for displaying. “Yes, Ms. Hinotori. You and all your terrorist cohorts will lay down your weapons and surrender to Anaden forces, or we will bomb your every last base into oblivion, and you with them. And before you ask, yes, we do know where those bases are.”

  I forced my expression to remain neutral. KIR, we need to find out if there is any conceivable way they have actually learned where those bases are located.

  Searching all incident reports now.

  Please, Gods, do not let them have found Starbase Archine. If they have, all is lost.

  All is never lost, Nicolette. Not while one of us lives.

  I squared my shoulders and adopted a more defiant expression for the man on the other end of the vidcomm. “Your carrot is somewhat lacking, Supreme Commander. If we surrender to you, you will kill us all anyway. This entire rebellion began as a reaction to you passing laws that called for killing us all. Without a better incentive, we lose nothing by continuing to fight.”

  Corradeo Praesidis’ lips quirked half a centimeter, and for long enough that I knew he was letting me see it. “Very well, Ms. Hinotori. Our leaders have given me license to offer this boon: if you surrender peacefully, we will make every practicable effort to ensure the true Anadens among you survive the separation from their partnered SAIs.”

  Was I a ‘true Anaden’ by his estimation, I wondered? The government had enacted a maze of criteria and definitions to try to sort out who was eligible to live and who was consigned to die, but here in the rebellion we were all the same. It didn’t matter whether someone began as Anaden or SAI, or whether they were now one or two. We were all living beings and fighting to stay that way.

  I cleared my throat. “And the SAIs?”

  He shook his head. “No. They are abominations. They have poisoned your minds and cannot be safely rehabilitated.”

  “But we can? Us ‘true Anadens’?”

  “This is our hope, yes.”

  I nodded thoughtfully, but found myself at a loss of what to parlay with next. The truth was, we were losing. Many of my colleagues believed we had already lost. I tried so hard to hang on to a thread of hope that we might find a way…but a way to what? If I had hoped to change the hearts and minds of the Anaden government and military, one look at the Supreme Commander dashed it properly.

  The heartbreaking truth was, there was no victory to be had. Not here.

  The evidence is not overwhelming, but the capture of certain personnel in recent weeks allows for the possibility that the military has in fact learned the locations of one or more of our hidden bases.

  I swallowed heavily. Thank you, KIR.

  “I don’t have the authority to cede to your terms on my own. I must confer with my colleagues.”

  “I assumed as much. You have six hours. After that time, expect no quarter.”

  Why would I? The military had never granted it to us up until now. “I understand. You will hear from me in six hours.”

  I disconnected from the vidcomm and strode out of the communications room, activating our general comm channel as I did.

  “This is Nicolette Hinotori. I am declaring Condition Omega. All forces retreat to Starbase Archine with all due speed. Infirmaries and repair facilities, evacuate your residents to Archine immediately. If for any reason anyone is unable to reach Archine, find shelter and try to disappear, and may the Gods be with you.

  “We are leaving in five hours and fifty minutes.”

  KIR, start pre-flight checks. I’ll be at the ship in seven minutes.

  The three generation ships jutted out into space, with only their aft sections locked into their docks along the center ring of Starbase Archine. They shone like stars themselves, a sign they too were active and beginning their preparations for a long journey.

  The queue to dock stretched for some length, and I took the opportunity of a few minutes of idle time to say goodbye to our ship. ‘RC-11’ wasn’t much of a name, but it hadn’t needed a real name. I was KIR and KIR was me, and together we had been the ship. We would miss her.

  When we settled to the flight deck and the engine went silent, I reached under the dash and opened the latch to the compartment beneath it. Are you ready, KIR?

  I am ready.

  I unseated the data module that held KIR’s presence within the ship and lifted it out, then carried it into the main cabin and secured it in my gear bag. Then I tossed the gear and personals bags on each shoulder and left the ship behind.

  A tall man with chestnut hair and a worried stance stood at the wide windows stretching across the command deck. I approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Steven, you made it.”

  He turned and gave me a weary grimace. “Barely, it feels like.”

  “Barely is good enough. What’s our status?”

  “36,420 have checked in so far. Ground Base Bravo suffered a power overload that resulted in multiple injuri
es. It doesn’t look like they’re going to be able to evacuate most of the people there. Either way, it’s out of our hands here.

  “Here, we are crowded and scrambling, but we are moving people and SAI hardware onto the ships with increasing speed. What happens in one hour and forty-three minutes?”

  “I tell Supreme Commander Praesidis to go fuck himself. In diplomat-speak, of course. Approximately five seconds later, he tells the military forces I assume are already moving into position around every one of our bases they know the location of to open fire.”

  He blinked and stared at her.

  “The demand was unconditional surrender, Steven. You and I both know what that would mean for our people.”

  “So our choices were death today or death tomorrow.”

  “No.” She smiled and motioned out the windows. “We have made ourselves a third choice. A new beginning.”

  “Right.” He cracked his neck. “We’d best get this done, then.”

  One of the many tasks SAIs were uniquely skilled at was taking a voluminous set of variables and devising all possible outcomes from them.

  In other words, we had always known there was a chance we were going to lose this fight. A good chance.

  Therefore, work on the contingency plan that became Starbase Archine had begun early on in the rebellion. It turned into a constant struggle; it stole resources from the fighting, and some among us repeatedly questioned whether it was thus sabotaging the actual rebellion. Everything had to be done in utmost secrecy, in a rebellion where everything happened in utmost secrecy to begin with.

  In the end, it was only by sheer force of the will of a small group of dedicated SAIs that the three generation ships were completed. About two weeks earlier.

  Now they were being called into service. Designed to function for up to two hundred years without resupply, they were stocked with the equipment necessary to allow rotating periods of stasis for the Anadens and low-power sleep for the SAIs, as well as the equipment needed to support those who were awake at any given time.

  I stood on the bridge of my assigned generation ship. Much like earlier on my personal ship, I was here to say goodbye. Goodbye to my home, Asterion Prime, though I hadn’t set foot on it in several months now. Goodbye to the Anaden Empire and the Milky Way galaxy we all called home.

  We will find a new home.

  I know we will, KIR. A better home, one where we control our own destiny.

  I like this notion.

  I chuckled faintly. So do I. There we will grow strong. Powerful. And one day we will return here, our hand offered in peace, and they will not be able to refuse it.

  The timer I’d started when the meeting with Supreme Commander Praesidis ended raced toward zero in my mind.

  00:12:43

  Steven Olivaw: “Perimeter alerts have been tripped at Ground Bases Bravo and Delta and Air Bases Alpha and Bravo.”

  Jumping the gun a little, aren’t you, Supreme Commander? How dare you. Four of our six bases, not counting Archine. Praesidis had not been bluffing. I grieved for those souls who had been unable to escape, whose lives were now measured in minutes.

  Nicolette Hinotori: “All vessels report.”

  GenOne: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

  GenTwo: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

  GenThree: “All systems green. Go for departure.”

  The ships eased out of their berths, leaving behind the safety of Starbase Archine for the stars’ embrace, and in seconds they were megameters away.

  Only two things left to do before accelerating to superluminal speeds and beginning their journey. KIR?

  The message to Supreme Commander Praesidis has been delivered.

  Thank you.

  “GenOne, aft cam visual, please.”

  The center viewport pane transformed to display the view from the ship’s aft cam. Starbase Archine receded slowly from their sight, as though it were the light at the entrance of a tunnel already traversed.

  Nicolette Hinotori: “Arm the charges and detonate on my mark. 3…2…1…mark.”

  Like a supernova erupting, rippling explosions burst out from the center of the enormous structure and cascaded through to its farthest reaches. For a few astonishing seconds, void became brilliance.

  Then the light faded and blinked out, and when it was gone, nothing remained.

  It was time for us to disappear as well.

  Nika gasped in a breath. Had she been breathing? Her head swam, and she struggled to get her bearings. Who was she? Where was she?

  I am Nika Tescarav.

  I am Nika Kirumase.

  I am Nicolette Hinotori.

  Maybe, she thought wryly as her pulse gradually slowed, it was time for her to accept the possibility that she was all three, and more.

  As to where, it appeared that she was in the bunk on the ship. Dashiel slept beside her, and she had curled herself up around him, a leg and arm draped over him and her head on his chest. His expression was peaceful in slumber, and his chestnut hair had darkened to umber in the dim lighting of the cabin. The fingertips of her left hand rested lightly against those of his right.

  Oh.

  Had they truly once been so close, shared so much of themselves with each other, that he held the key inside his own psyche—a literal decryption key—that unlocked memories belonging to her, memories that should have been erased? And not merely Kirumase’s memories, but also those of previous incarnations stretching back in time to her beginnings.

  Kirumase…KIR…had the name been an homage, a remembrance of a time when she had been two instead of one?

  What she had only just learned, her former self had always known.

  She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. The horrifying revelations at Zaidam had thrown everything into disarray. They had no destination. They had no plan. They had no idea what to do next.

  Yet a serene, quiet resolve settled over her anyway. They would figure it all out. They would uncover the secrets behind the Rasu Protocol. They would find where the thousands of people who had vanished were being taken and for what purpose. Then they would expose and end the whole damn conspiracy. She believed this.

  Because with knowledge came freedom, and with freedom came power—and she now knew two very important things.

  She had always been a diplomat.

  And she had always been a rebel.

  OF A

  DARKER

  VOID

  ASTERION NOIR BOOK 2

  CONTENTS

  * * *

  DECLARATION

  PRIMARY EXPRESSIONS

  WILDCARDS

  ADAPTIVE OPTIMIZATION

  LOGIC GATES

  MERGE (FIELD)

  COMMAND PROMPT

  END OF LINE

  DECLARATION

  EIGHT YEARS AGO

  ADV SHORAI

  Gennisi Galaxy, Northwest Quadrant

  HERE ON THE EDGE of the galaxy, space was more void than substance. The distance between stars grew to hundreds of parsecs, and only the tenuous interstellar medium filled the in-between.

  Mason Fassar did not think of himself as an overly sentimental person, but the darkness that had increasingly enveloped the Shorai during the last week of travel made him long for the star-glutted night skies of Kiyora.

  Instead, he found himself nearly as far from his homeworld as it was possible to venture while remaining in the Gennisi galaxy, which he likely wasn’t going to be remaining in for much longer. The decision of whether to push the expedition into neighboring galaxies still lay before him, by which he meant it still lay before the Guides. They would nominally insist it was his call to make, but not following their ‘guidance’ on the matter would bring his long career to an abrupt halt.

  The Shorai’s exploration of the nooks and crannies of their galaxy over the last year had yielded some notable successes, but nothing transformative. They’d discovered no new advanced intelligent life, though they hadn’t ex
pected to. The best scientific analyses predicted that the average galaxy hosted at most one to two intelligent species, defined as one that had achieved the ability to exit its home planet’s atmosphere and survive to return. It was a rough definition at best, but a line had to be drawn somewhere.

  In this respect, Gennisi was already overflowing with life. Granted, the Asterions were transplants rather than natives, but after 700,000 years, they deserved to claim it as their home.

  To greater disappointment, the expedition had uncovered no planets flowing with rivers of kyoseil. A couple of asteroids rich in ytterbium and one moon with trace kyoseil deposits, but that was it. They’d secured d-gate pairs at points of interest during their journey, and the research teams who followed along behind them would doubtless increase the Asterion Dominion’s scientific proficiency as well as its control of valuable resources.

  But Mason hadn’t signed on to command the Shorai in order to tag a few mineral-rich asteroids. He’d signed on to seek out the cosmos’ unknowns and make them known. Now, he might finally be on the verge of a discovery worthy of the trip.

  They had detected the first whispers ten days earlier. Whispers of technology being put to purposeful use, of the distinctive noise heralding a space-faring civilization. He’d immediately altered the Shorai’s course to investigate but approached cautiously, as Asterions did.

  Aside from a few stray blips, the sources of the signals were concentrated within a tiny region of space—likely a single stellar system. Their strength nevertheless implied a level of technological development far greater than what one anticipated from a civilization constrained to their home system.