She had been following his progress, and had noticed an alarming trend in those enterprises he felt were dangerous: each of them had been researching or manufacturing the most advanced, potentially aggressive technologies, far more innovative than anything in Council space. It had aroused her suspicion enough that she had looked further back, to the earliest days of his takeover. Those first two syndicates his thugs had raided had not been random either, and she wondered what he might want with time dilation technology or the advanced energy field projectors of the Numanu architects.
But she had far more personal worries, and had no time for more esoteric concerns. His threats had been getting progressively more graphic, as it became more and more obvious she would be unable to unlock the mysteries of the Skorahn. He had worn it for the first day or so, but he soon lost interest in the ‘bauble’, as he called it, when he realized that it was not conveying upon him any more power than it had given to the detested Virri. He had thrown it at her, demanded she unravel its powers, and turned his attention to other matters.
She could feel the psychoactive art looming all around her. She knew, without looking, what she would see. The canvases were nearly empty, dark and bleak landscapes with sad figures wandering along them, lost and alone.
The city had been a hell since Taurani had taken over. All of the worst fears of Angara and Marcus Wells had been realized. The black-armored shock troopers were everywhere, controlling movement through the city, issuing credentials to those willing to play their games, keeping others under tight confinement in their specific towers.
There had been no more serious fighting. That was something she could be thankful for, at least. When the fleet had first arrived, Taurani and the Ntja admiral had used it as a tool of terror, going so far as to flatten one of the smaller towers on the underside of the city. Hundreds of sentients had been killed in what Taurani was claiming was a preemptive attack on a dissident cell.
Iphini knew that the tower in question had housed only older residents of the city, many of them requiring the charitable assistance of their neighbors to even survive.
But since that attack, resistance had been all but extinguished. Taurani and the Peacemaker soldiers had been at liberty do whatever they liked. The oppressive pall that had fallen across Penumbra was a stark, painful contrast to the city’s former, chaotic energy. It was an occupied camp now, no better than any other recalcitrant system subjugated by the Galactic Council.
And they never would have been able to succeed if it had not been for her.
She felt her eyes fill once again. It seemed to her that she spent most of every day weeping, now that her actions had born their inevitable fruit.
Penumbra under the vague and inattentive eye of Uduta Virri had been a violent, unruly place, but its soul had been intact. She had come to the city herself as a last resort, running from a past she could never have escaped elsewhere. Iwa’Ban had been nearly destroyed by feral Human raiders but it had been the depredations of the Council minions who had descended upon her homeworld to help them recover that had been the real horror. She had seen, first hand, Peacemaker officers savaging her people without repercussion. When a councilor that had been granted administrative rights over her family’s province took an unwholesome fancy to her, her own parents had urged her to flee.
But everywhere she went within Council space, she was reminded of those last dark days and her flight from her ravaged home. She had tried to convince herself that what she had seen had been anomalies, that the servants of the Galactic Council were, on the whole, the heroes she had always believed them to be. But with each revealed abuse, she had been forced to lower her head further, to shut her eyes to the reality developing all around her. She had been at her wit’s end by the time she had been advised to seek out Penumbra. It had been her refuge and her sanctuary, but she had never lost the feeling of the unwilling exile, and had grounded that resentment and sadness into the city that had nurtured her since her arrival.
In her heart she had never reconciled her endemic hatred of the Humans who had ravaged Iwa’Ban and the Council enforcers who had made it their own personal preserve. When Angara had brought her two Humans back to the city, she had been horrified, as had every other right-thinking being in Penumbra. When the thoughtful Eru had approached her with his soulful red eyes and his attentive demeanor, she had eventually revealed all of her doubts and fears to him. He had been the kindly hero she wanted to see, despite his instructions to keep their friendship secret. He had been patient, she could see that now. He had slowly steered their conversations away from the Council and deeper into her fear of the Humans. She had been blinded to everything that Marcus Wells was attempting to achieve, as well as the horrors inflicted upon Iwa’Ban by Taurani’s ilk, and instead saw only the shattered ruins of her homeworld, overlaid with the destruction of this new home that had accepted her.
She had been a fool. Each time she tried to sleep now, she was haunted by thoughts of Marcus Wells, and the dark and empty corridors of Penumbra in its present state. The realization that she had helped to destroy this place that had been her home was crushing her.
She closed her eyes to access the time through her implants. Khuboda Taurani was scheduled to address the entire city soon from the Council Chamber where Marcus Wells had spoken so often of his hopes and dreams. The old Mhatrong arena would be filled with the most prominent survivors of Penumbra, forced at gunpoint to provide a suitable backdrop for what was sure to be a historic moment.
He had not bothered to tell her any of his plans, of course. There was little reason to do so. She knew, in fact, that she was only still alive on the off chance that she could puzzle out some last little glimmer of power from the medallion. She also served as its bearer while Taurani strengthened his hold on the city, so that the services and systems would not fail.
She had not been told what the speech would reveal, but any rational being could guess what Taurani was going to say. A great deal of effort had gone into filling the chamber with all the right beings.
The Council Ambassador was going to announce the final disposition of the city. He was going to reveal to them their ultimate fate; a fate she had helped to orchestrate. A fate she had no hope now of averting.
There were whispered rumors that the Humans would return. The irony was palpable: that the once-hated and reviled creatures were now seen as the only possible saviors of the city. But she did not believe them. How would Marcus Wells return? That he had escaped in the first place was a miracle. Even though she had been blinded by her own prejudice, she knew too well; he was too smart to return to such a hopeless situation. Even if he did return, what could he possibly do against such overwhelming force?
Her head fell forward. Marcus Wells was a Human, and in her heart, more suited to be a destroyer than a savior.
And that was the true tragedy of her position: even her best hope was empty.
*****
Khuboda Taurani stood at the podium in the vast Mhatrong hall and gazed out over the fruits of his labor. The most prominent citizens of Penumbra were crammed cheek to jowl in the big room; well, at least the most prominent citizens that could be trusted to remain cowed and submissive. He had dreamed of this moment since long before being stationed in the wild, unruly city. The Council’s instructions had been fulfilled in the first moments of his attack. The technology he had been sent for was secure, its creators dead or captive, and all transferred to Ochiag’s ships overhead. Now he was working for himself and his people.
The hall was silent as all the sentients stared. Some eyes were curious and alive. Those would be the inhabitants not invested overmuch in the city, without a great deal to lose. Many more, however, were sullen and hostile. Those would be the beings who had left everything in Council space behind, to come here and begin anew. Those pathetic vermin would lose everything today.
Because today the last sanctuary against the power and wisdom of the Galactic Council would fall. He had consolidat
ed his control over Penumbra, and with Ochiag’s help, those most likely to make things difficult were no longer able to do so. Now, with the power of the Peacemaker fleet behind his words, he would confirm his place in the historical files of the Council and take the first step toward establishing the Kerie as the preeminent race in the galaxy. First among equals, leaders of the great and enlightened push into the future, his people would be the lords of known space one day soon. And it will have all started here.
It was almost enough to bring a smile to the rigid flesh of his face.
He drank in the despair in those eyes for a moment longer, savoring the heady taste of victory and subjugation. These fools had believed themselves beyond the power of the Council, and above the wisdom of the greatest minds of the galaxy working in concert for the greater good. They had put themselves, their ambitions, and their goals ahead of all the other sentients in existence. Today they, too, would reap the rewards of their choices.
“Citizens of Penumbra,” Taurani’s voice was strong and full. It was being broadcast to every corner of the city, so that even the most cowardly worm skulking in the lowest service tunnels would not miss the message. “I come here to speak to you today light of heart, looking out at a future for this city, and for the galaxy as a whole, that is far brighter and richer than any of us might have imagined even a short while ago.”
There was nothing but silence in the room. Out of sight of the visual recorders, hugging the far walls and staying to the deep shadows, Ochiag’s Ntja troopers watched the crowd with leveled weapons. The audience had been warned to remain silent. There would be plenty of time to add the joyous sounds of celebration and adulation after the fact, should such things be called for in the future.
“Under the guidance and protection of the Galactic Council, Penumbra is going to know an unprecedented period of growth, prosperity, and safety! No dream will be too big to dream here out on the rim, and the Council will help you all to make those dreams a magnificent reality.”
They were silent still, of course. But he could see the confusion in many of the eyes now. He could see tenuous hope glowing to life where before there had only been despair. He could feel his lip twitch with the effort not to indulge in a sneer.
“Now, under a partnership agreement between the free city of Penumbra and the Galactic Council, those ancient treaties that so rigidly controlled our relationships to date will be replaced! We shall forge the bonds between us anew, here and now! And to assist you all in keeping the peace, and making sure you are not victimized by any of the myriad dangers of the galaxy, I hereby announce that the free city of Penumbra will henceforth be known as a Protectorate of the Council!”
Despite instructions, a low, soft, murmur arose from the crowd. He allowed it, reveling in their sudden realization. He had noticed that their interest had been truly kindled when he had used the term ‘free city’. He knew the light of amusement was bright in his silvery eyes, and he knew that no one in the chamber would be able to decipher it.
Let them keep their foolish name, he thought. ‘Free city’ … he wanted to laugh. And of course, as a Protectorate, the Council would have complete control over all policies and statutes within Penumbra. The very lawlessness that had attracted these vagabonds to the back of beyond would be gone, and with it, the incentive to come so far from the center of civilization. He had just killed their city, and the fools were too ignorant, or too numb, to realize it. The energy and innovation Penumbra had sapped from Council space would return to where it could be more carefully husbanded and controlled.
As he indulged in his moment of glory, the lighting within the hall dropped slightly, taking on a reddish tinge. It was the most dramatic signal he had been willing to allow his watchdogs to use during his grand announcement. It means something had gone truly, horribly wrong.
“My friends, duty calls me away.” He shrugged, putting the mask of reluctant public servant on with practiced ease. “I had really hoped to share more of my vision of Penumbra’s future with you today. Perhaps I may impose upon you all in the days ahead. For now, thank you for your attention, and may we all look to a brighter future, walking the path of civilization together.”
With a nod he had Iranse cut recording feeds, and then directed Ochiag’s ground commanders to see the chamber emptied, the citizens returned to their proper places. He turned, clicking shut his eyes to access the communication network through his implants, and demanded information from whoever was on the other side of the connection.
“Please explain the terrible crisis that necessitated the interruption of my announcement.” He snarled as he pushed his way through the hidden door into the preparation room. Never had a position been better defended than Penumbra was now. And besides, other than the single Tigan swift ship the Humans had used to escape, their enemies had no access to more potent forces. The question was not so much who would possibly be attacking the city, but why would anyone attack it, under the current circumstances.
“It’s the Peacemaker fleet!” When Iphini Bha’s shrill voice erupted in his ear, he almost snorted with derision. The Iwa’Bantu were always timid creatures. If she had sounded the alarm, it could be almost anything. Perhaps she had outlived her usefulness. There had been no movement with the medallion, and he found it more and more difficult to control his hunger around the little creature. Perhaps this lapse in judgement would be the catalyst he needed to take a more direct hand in her instruction. He would have to find someone else to wear the worthless gem until the city was dismantled, of course, but that would hardly be troublesome.
“Someone is attacking the fleet!” Bha continued, and this time, Taurani was brought up short.
“Attacking?” He was incredulous, and spat the word out as if it tasted bad. “Who?”
“I don’t know! They just emerged from a single wormhole! A whole fleet from a single singularity! It’s a slaughter!”
Taurani felt the bristles of his brill grind together as his jaws clenched. Orchestrating a simultaneous singularity transit was incredibly difficult and dangerous. Outside of the surprise impact delivering an entire fleet in tight formation might have in war, there was no good reason for anyone to even attempt such a feat.
In fact, as far as he knew, in all of known galactic history, only one race had perfected the tactic.
His eyes widened, and he shoved two brown-uniformed Ntja ahead of him to clear a path through the milling crowd. The denizens of Penumbra were muttering quietly about his announcement, but fell silent as they felt the pressure of his bodyguards pushing down the corridor. He followed at a trot, not caring in the least what the peasants of this pathetic backwater might be saying now.
Chapter 24
Iphini Bha could only stare at the viewing field floating over the communications station in awe. The city could be seen in all of its chaotic glory in the lower quadrant of the image, with the Peacemaker fleet floating in a globe around it. The three massive warships that formed the core of the fleet were each stationed within the defensive sphere, one third of a turn from each other, halfway between the plane of the city and the upper pole of the formation.
A massive singularity had ripped into being right in the teeth of one of the biggest ships. A fleet of sleek, aggressive-looking attackers had stormed out, and the battle had erupted before either the Ntja commanders or Iphini had known what was happening.
At the core of the attacking fleet was a ship almost as big as the biggest Council vessels. There was something eerily familiar about the lines of the vessel, but her agitated mind could not tell her why, and abandoned the thought in favor of the more immediate concern of a full-blown war erupting over her head.
The defenses of the city began to spit coherent light into the teeth of the attackers, but the ships had fell out of their huge wormhole so fast, the city’s systems were having a hard time tracking its targets. The guns seemed to be moving sluggishly, but she was no expert, and assumed it was merely the speed of the attackers causing
the difficulties.
The entire attacking fleet concentrated their fire on the nearest of the large Ntja warships. Bolts of green and blue and red flashed out from every ship, streaking vapor trails traced the arcing flights of missile weapons as they sliced through the empty void at incredible speeds, slamming through defensive fire and gravitic shields alike.
She understood almost nothing of what she was seeing. She had never witnessed a battle in her life. Aside from the occasional feral Human fleets hunted down by Council Peacemakers, it had been an age since a battle such as this had occurred. Still, it was clear that the attackers were concentrating all of their weapons on that one beleaguered ship, and that their chosen prey’s defenses were weakening under the onslaught.
Blue flares outlined the hard planes of the ship’s gravitic shields, pounded down, closer and closer to their parent with each impact. Bolts of searing energy snapped into the shields and were deflected off and away by the amplified, near-solid gravity. The Peacemaker fleet was so densely packed into their globular formation that many of these redirected blasts struck other ships, glancing again off their own shields. One smaller ship, weaker or more unlucky than those around it, caught one of these powerful streams of light and its shield failed in a coronal flash. The ship imploded around the sinking bolt, and then wreckage blasted outward in a flash of orange fire that rapidly dwindled to a wisp of glittering fog.
Around her, the black-uniformed Ntja that had been left to watch over the control center were barking orders at each other, snarling into communication stations in an effort to redirect the fleet units deployed opposite the vector of the attack. Her eyes were fixed upon the viewing field, however, watching the concentrated effort of the attack as it pummeled the larger ship mercilessly. Her grip was pale and tight around her ancient stylus, its constant motion stilled.
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