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

by G. S. Jennsen

Lance appeared beside them. “The signature matches, to the extent we can tell at this range the size is consistent with what we were expecting, and it’s alone. We now know as much as we’re apt to find out from up here. We’ll use a cloaked cargo transport to get the cage down to the surface, and I’ll take both a combat team and a technical one to stay close to it in case there are problems, which I’m certain there will be. Are you certain you won’t let my special operations squad handle the entrapment? You’re a diplomat and a businessman, not soldiers.”

  If he tried to order her to the sidelines, she’d pull rank then point out how this was her mission. “I’ve acquired a bit of combat experience the last few years. I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, I heard some of the stories about NOIR. And you, Advisor Ridani?”

  “I don’t have Nika’s skills, but I’ve gotten a crash course in violent engagements recently. Regardless, if Nika’s going, I’m going.”

  “Fine, but understand something: if the alien decides to take to space and heads this way with weapons blasting, the Dauntless is not outfitted to withstand its firepower, and I’m ordering the ship to leave. It’ll come back for us, eventually, but only if it survives.”

  “In that case, I assume your team will be taking emergency water and ration supplies to the surface?”

  “We’ll have a couple of days’ worth of provisions with us.”

  She didn’t fancy a camping trip planetside, but with any luck it wouldn’t come to that. “Sounds good.”

  “All right. Suit up and head down to the landing bay. You can ride in the second cloaked cargo transport with the hovercraft.”

  PLANET III-E183-31B

  Scorching, desiccated air blasted Nika as she stepped off the transport and peeled layers of moist tissue off her throat as she inhaled. She pivoted, yanked her heavy tactical shirt up over her head and tossed it inside the transport. The material was designed to protect her from blows and glancing cuts and would be less than useless against a Rasu attack—

  —a scorpion-like creature sporting a tail six centimeters long scurried past her feet in the sand, and she promptly retrieved the shirt and pulled it back on with a groan. The planet had defenses of its own, and a Rasu wasn’t the only threat here.

  One of Lance’s officers guided the hovercraft clear of the transport and checked it out, then motioned them over.

  Nika ran a hand down the length of the hovercraft, feeling Dashiel’s eyes on her as she did. “It’s been a while since I’ve flown one of these.”

  “Since our vacation on SR52-San ‘a while’?”

  She shot him a playful smirk. “No. I took one into the wilds of Ebisu a few years ago, to a smuggling hideout to buy some specialized gear for NOIR.”

  “Through the jungle? Damn. Your skills must have improved since the near collision with the rogue wave.”

  “I didn’t say I drove it well through the jungle. The lack of trees here is a definite positive. On the other hand, alien menace, so it could balance out.”

  “Let’s hope not. I’ve been running the numbers. The research team analyzed the speed of the bipedal Rasu configuration from your simex memory. If what the Rasu displayed in the simex is their max speed, this craft will outrun one. If not, or if it adds an engine to itself on the fly, things will get a lot dicier.”

  “Yep.”

  He stared at her intently. “I can drive.”

  “It won’t go any faster under the guidance of your admittedly talented hands than it will under mine.”

  “You’ve got talented hands as—” he shot her an unamused look “—nice try at distracting me. The point is, I’m more familiar with the workings of the hovercraft and its limitations.”

  “That only matters if it breaks down. Somebody’s got to interface with Lance and the team at the cage while we’re moving.”

  “Which can be you.”

  She gave the broadside of the hovercraft a final caress and hopped on. “Are you kidding? Get up here and hold onto me.”

  A tracker ping marked the location of the enormous cage as thirty meters to their east, but though the structure stretched for fifty-eight meters, they could not see it. Nor could they see the soldiers manning it, who were also cloaked. Nobody had any idea how far the Rasu’s natural vision extended or what wavelengths it encompassed, and they didn’t dare risk exposing their or the cage’s presence.

  Commander Palmer (RC2): “The east-facing side of the cage is open, and the controls test out. We’re ready to activate it on capture.”

  Dashiel Ridani (RC1): “Excellent. We’ll try to give you as much advance warning as possible. We’re heading out.”

  On a small display at the center of the hovercraft’s dash blinked a red dot signifying the current location of the Rasu six kilometers to the northeast. Nika activated her protective helmet and eyewear, then reached behind her and found Dashiel’s hand. “Ready?”

  He kissed the exposed skin at the base of her neck. “Ready.”

  She engaged the engine, and the hovercraft rose two meters into the air. She eased into the throttle, banked in the direction of the blinking dot and accelerated. The wind measured only a few kph for now, which kept the blowing sand to a minimum, increased their visibility and made the hovercraft easier to steer.

  Undulating orange sands stretched to every horizon, where they met a terra cotta sky. Down here on the ground the planet turned out to be beautiful, if in a stark and lonely way.

  Once they’d put two kilometers between them and the cage, they deactivated the hovercraft’s and their cloaking. Again, not knowing the range of the Rasu’s senses, she went ahead and activated the broadcast message they’d prepared, translated into the Rasu language.

  Eight years ago, the Rasu had provided the Guides with a primer on their language in the translation of their ultimatum, which Gemina used to communicate with the aliens when making her macabre deliveries. If their mission today went well, at least the language barrier wouldn’t be something they’d need to worry about.

  “We see you and acknowledge you, Rasu. Speak peacefully with us, and we will speak peacefully with you.”

  They didn’t expect the Rasu to take them up on the offer—and if it did, she had no idea what she was going to do. The offer was merely a way to get its attention in a manner that hopefully didn’t shout, ‘TRAP!’

  If she had all of Nika Kirumase’s memories, she suspected she might feel a little guilty, as a diplomat, employing blatant treachery in order to capture and imprison an adversary. But she didn’t have them, and in several crucial ways she remained more rebel than diplomat. Whatever it took to get what they needed.

  When they closed to 1.2 kilometers from the blinking dot, it reversed direction and began speeding their way. There was the range on the Rasu’s native aural sensors. She brought the hovercraft to a halt.

  “Nika? Shouldn’t we start moving back toward the cage?”

  “We have to make the trap convincing. Give it a chance to slow when it gets closer and see that we’re waiting peacefully, like the message said.”

  “How much closer?”

  On the horizon, a dark blob became visible. She checked the radar. “Two hundred forty kph? Stars, it’s fast.” She revved the engine and prepared to pivot. “I’ll give it to three hundred meters.”

  “Three fifty.”

  She laughed haltingly. “Okay. Three fifty. Which is…now.” She spun the craft around and floored it in what should be a damn good impression of fleeing in a panic on seeing a determined Rasu barreling headlong toward them in a decidedly non-peaceful manner.

  In seconds she had capped out the hovercraft’s speed. Yet blip by blip, the Rasu gained on them. She didn’t bother to do the math; they would either reach the cage before the Rasu reached them, or they wouldn’t.

  Dashiel did it anyway, of course. His breath was hot at her ear. “It’s going to be close.”

  “Noted.”

  The wind picked that moment to kick up something fierc
e, and their visibility dropped to near zero. Sand whipped into mini-tornados and tore at them with the incisiveness of blades. Good thing she’d worn her tactical shirt….

  Dashiel Ridani (RC1): “We are two kilometers out and approaching at top speed with a Rasu on our tail. Get ready.”

  Commander Palmer (RC2): “Acknowledged and ready.”

  She sensed Dashiel glance behind them. “Shit. Remember what I said about it adding an engine on the fly?”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Worse. It’s basically turned itself into an engine. It’s putting off massive thermal emissions, and its speed has almost doubled.”

  She couldn’t look back, but damn, now she really wanted to. One and a half kilometers to the cage. The Rasu closed to one hundred twenty meters.

  One kilometer, and she swore she felt the metaphorical fire breath of the alien on their rear bumper. A low rumble penetrated the air beneath the howl of the wind and the hiss of the turbulent sand. “The cage is thirty meters tall, right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because we’re jumping it.” They obviously didn’t want to end up in the cage with the Rasu, but they needed to lead it directly to the open door of the invisible trap. If she could keep sixty meters between them and the alien, they’d be back at near ground level on the other side when the alien reached the entrance to the cage, and it should keep heading for them.

  But the sudden unusual behavior risked spooking their pursuer, so she jerked the steering control up and soared the hovercraft forty meters into the air, then down again. After another hundred meters, she did it again, which made it a pattern. She checked their pursuer’s progress…eighty meters from them.

  She slowed down.

  “Nika….” Dashiel growled.

  “I know. But it needs to believe it will catch us.”

  “It will catch us.”

  “Not if we catch it first.”

  Dashiel Ridani (RC1): “We are two hundred meters from your location. One seventy.”

  Commander Palmer (RC2): “We’ve got you and the alien in our sights. Gods, what is that thing?”

  Dashiel Ridani (RC1): “Whatever it wants to be.”

  The dot on the radar was now too close to dead center to distinguish any real distance. Stars, she did not want to get gutted by this monster. Or flayed. Or liquefied.

  Fifty meters to the cage. Her thumb twitched over the throttle control.

  Forty. Thirty. A shadow crept across the hovercraft. Twenty. She increased their speed to max and jerked the controls up, and they sailed above what presented as thin air—

  —something crashed against the hovercraft, sending it spinning hard sideways until it tipped over. Nika tumbled through a curtain of dust that obscured the ground as a deafening thud roared above the shrieking wind. She couldn’t tell which way was down—then gravity showed her the way. She tucked her limbs into a ball and relaxed her muscles.

  The hard desert surface lurking beneath the sand slammed into her left shoulder like a boulder. She rolled through the worst of it, twice, three times, and slowed to a stop face-down in the sand. She needed to roll over, but everything hurt.

  Dashiel!

  She forced herself to her knees as coughs racked her chest; she must have inhaled a pint of sand during the fall. Breathing through her nose didn’t improve her situation much, but she fought past the coughs to peer out through the sandstorm.

  One of Lance’s officers was running toward her. Behind him, the Rasu careened from wall to wall of the now visible cage. The door had sealed shut and a force field surrounded it, but the glass cage shuddered and rocked as the alien threw itself against the glass with full force over and over, testing out every centimeter of the enclosure.

  To the left of the cage, about thirty meters from her, a dark form lay prone in the sand. Another twenty meters away, the hovercraft sat upside down and missing several pieces.

  She waved off the officer, instead pointing them toward Dashiel. They hesitated, but changed direction when Nika climbed to her feet and started stumbling toward him.

  The officer reached Dashiel first, and by the time Nika arrived he was sitting up. A contact burn scraped across his forehead and, more worryingly, blood dripped from a corner of his mouth.

  She dropped to her knees beside him. “Can you breathe? Is your OS giving you a damage report?”

  He nodded shakily. “I think—” a coughing fit overtook him, and she leaned in close, trying to check him over for more serious wounds.

  “Sir, if you’ll lie back down, we need to assess your injuries.”

  “I’m all right.” He wiped a hand over his mouth, then scowled at the blood on his fingers. “I bit my tongue is all.”

  Nika exhaled in relief and rested her head on his chest. “You scared me.”

  “Scared myself, too. What happened?”

  “I think the Rasu shot out an appendage and swiped the hovercraft just before we reached the cage.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Close one, then.”

  A second officer arrived with two water bottles, and they both greedily sucked them down. Her throat was made of sandpaper, but after a few sips she could draw in air without it causing her significant pain.

  The officers helped them to their feet, and together they considered the cage and their prey.

  The Rasu reshaped itself into a blade thirty-five-meters long and hurled itself at a front corner of the cage. The back half of the structure reared up two meters in the air then crashed to the ground, sending clouds of sand billowing into the air.

  Dashiel coughed, then tried to clear his throat. “I hope like hells it holds.”

  “Lance said it will hold.”

  “He’s never tried to contain a Rasu in it before.”

  She didn’t have a good response to that. They trudged over to join the soldiers who had now surrounded the cage, heavy weapons drawn and readied.

  For a second the sight reminded her of the natives from the simex. Primitives with their long guns drawn bravely on the alien invaders. The natives hadn’t stood a chance, and had suffered horrifically for their bravery. Would her people fare any better?

  Abruptly the cage’s violent thrashings stilled. The Rasu dissolved into a gelatinous puddle of aubergine fluidic metal in the center of the cage. Not in surrender, she felt certain, but perhaps to regroup and reevaluate.

  She strode up to Lance. “Let’s not waste any time. Tell the cargo transport to come pick up our prisoner.”

  23

  * * *

  CONCEPTUAL RESEARCH TESTING FACILITY

  Mirai

  Sixteen tricked-out combat dynes surrounded the meter-thick glass composite cage with their weapons armed, raised and ready. Surrounding the dynes and the cage, a double force-field barrier rated to withstand six hundred megajoules of energy crackled and hummed. Surrounding the dynes, the cage and the force-field barrier stood four walls constructed of twenty centimeters of hyper-strong metamaterials.

  A set of blast doors that opened and closed in 0.4 seconds constituted the only exit from the chamber.

  The location of the custom prison was a testing facility for in-atmosphere engines and explosive equipment on the outskirts of Mirai Two, which had been graciously loaned to them by the Mirai Industry Division, Conceptual Research Department. By Dashiel, in other words.

  Nika took a brief minute to ready herself. She’d somehow managed to convince the others to allow her to take the lead in the initial interrogation under the theory that it was less an interrogation and more a diplomatic negotiation, cage and weapons notwithstanding. Now she had to make it count.

  Dashiel, the Justice and External Relations Advisors, Lance, two of his officers and another six combat dynes had joined her in the open space between the force-field barrier and the blast doors. Everyone in the room was armed, though she doubted it would matter if the alien escaped. Another half-dozen Advisors watched from a lounge elsewhere in the building and the rest from a c
onference room at the Pavilion.

  She stepped forward and indicated for Lance’s officer to activate the intercom. “My name is Nika Kirumase. Do you have a name, Rasu?”

  The alien undulated like oil in water, snaking from corner to corner to assess the nature of its confines once again. “I am JRY22c-sub6.”

  The artificial voice of the translator lent a cold, calculating tenor to the words, which seemed about right.

  She smiled, just a little. “Do you mind if I call you ‘Jerry’?”

  “I am imprisoned. I lack freedom. Your term for me matters not.”

  “I understand why you feel this way. I assume you understand why we’ve needed to take extreme precautions. I, and those standing behind me, are Asterions. Do you know what an Asterion is?”

  “Do you?”

  She caught herself before she flinched, frowned, gasped or gave any other outward sign of surprise, but it was definitely not the response she’d anticipated. “Explain your answer.”

  “If you were capable of comprehending my explanation, my answer would no longer be needed. I will instead give you the answer you were expecting: Asterions are a species of hybrid synthetic-organic beings of moderate sapience who practice self-directed evolution.”

  Moderate sapience? She bit back a tart retort; a diplomat never got offended or angry unless they intended to do so. She didn’t so much ‘remember’ this rule as instinctively know it.

  “Am I correct in deducing that you know of our species because you were once a part of a larger whole? Specifically, a whole located in what we’ve designated Sector IV-C of the Gennisi galaxy? Is it correct for me to state that when you are connected to other Rasu, you share their knowledge, and they share yours?”

  “A base understanding of our nature.”

  Maris sent her a ping from the lounge. Arrogant prick, isn’t it?

  She ignored the ping. “Then tell us about your nature, Jerry. Enlighten us, so we may understand it better.”

  The Rasu partially solidified into a serpentine shape and slithered closer to the side of the cage she faced. “There is no whole, there is only purpose and intent. We are each whole for our purpose at any interval. We are each….” It paused, and a ripple slid along its body. “Your crude language does not permit proper elaboration.”