The panoramic windowplex wall in his quarters offered a stunning view of the ongoing space battle as hundreds of starships jockeyed for position in a fight to the death. Some ships lumbered through the open void, engaged on all sides, while others ran close to Oorajee’s gravity well, engines straining to keep them from sinking in-atmosphere. Fighters dodged one another, streaking in and out of cover behind the giant battleships. And all the while blaster fire flashed against the void’s expanse just as the colors glinted against Moldark’s all-black eyes.
A small comms chime interrupted his revelry. Moldark looked at the display on his chair’s arm to see the call was from the bridge. He swiped the channel open and watched as Admiral Brighton’s head and torso floated a meter in front of the chair.
“Admiral Brighton,” Moldark said.
“My lord. You’ve received an encoded transmission.”
“From?”
“Unknown. Though it appears to originate from an unidentified vessel somewhere in the Wyndorian system.”
Moldark raised an eyebrow. “Worru?”
“We can’t confirm that, but I—”
“Forward it to me.”
“Right away, my lord.”
Moldark closed the channel, and Brighton’s holographic body blinked out. A moment later, a trill alerted Moldark to the incoming message. The metadata showed that it was pre-recorded, timestamped from four days prior. Someone had sent the transmission in haste with no exact recipient defined, or there had been subspace interference.
Curious, Moldark opened the message and was prompted for a passphrase and a voiceprint match. The holo display projected a security window that read:
The Paragon…
This message was from one of his own. But he had no one on Worru at present. All forces there were either Republic or Luma—neither of which were on speaking terms with him. Moldark touched the red button in the holo display, then said, “Of perfect rule.”
“Answer verified. Voiceprint accepted,” said a feminine voice. “Begin encoded transmission.”
Suddenly, a bust of Nos Kil hovered in front of Moldark. The trooper was bare chested, covered in dried blood, and missing one eye. Moldark sensed this scene would have disturbed Kane or any of the other humans. Instead, Moldark felt only mild pity for the man.
“My lord,” Nos Kil began. “I don’t have much time. The mission on Ithnor Itheliana was unsuccessful. A small but well-armed force attacked us, led by a former colleague of mine, a Marine named Adonis Magnus. His transcript is readily available on TACNET.
“Somehow Magnus’s team has managed to obtain an alien vessel, I’m guessing from the Novia Minoosh, though it’s in far better condition than anything we found when we were there. They also have someone you might be very interested in—that senator’s daughter you’ve been looking for, Piper Stone. They’ve taken another prisoner too, one of the pilots you sent to check in on us.”
Nos Kil looked off-camera and snapped his fingers at someone. “What’s your name again, jockey?”
Moldark heard someone in the background say, “Longo.”
“Longo,” Nos Kil repeated, back on the camera. “Not that great of a jockey if you ask me. I’m sending the ship’s coordinates with this transmission in the off chance that Longo and I are unsuccessful in taking the ship. With any luck, you’ll be able to engage these rebels before they skip out of the system. Nos Kil, out.”
Nos Kil’s image vanished, and a set of coordinates along with a star chart took its place. Just as Moldark suspected, the ship was over Worru, or at least it had been at the time of Nos Kil’s transmission. Moldark suspected that the rebels were long gone by now, and Nos Kil with them. The Marine would have sent a real-time update by now if he had succeeded in taking the enemy’s ship.
Nos Kil had been a good asset. Violent but competent. And one not easily replaced, especially knowing that he had some connection to this Marine named Magnus. But replaced he would be. For, in the end, the Republic and its species of humans and other lifeforms only satisfied Moldark’s meta-objective—annihilation. So what did it matter that Nos Kil was terminated earlier than Moldark desired? Ultimately, Nos Kil and the rest of his kin would be exterminated like the disease their species was to this galaxy. The humans consumed without care just as the Novia had consumed without care, and Moldark would cleanse the stars of them both.
The more critical detail to Nos Kil’s transmission was that he’d seen Piper. Hearing him speak her name stirred Moldark. It was the closest he’d been to finding Kane’s progeny since the Bull Wraith lost the senator’s crew. Still, the girl remained just out of arm’s reach, and Moldark would need her for the next phase of his plans. Especially now that the quantum tunnel had been closed, or at least that’s what Moldark suspected.
The quantum tunnel was seven days away from Worru via subspace—less if a ship had a subspace modulator. Granted, it could have taken Nos Kil that much time to escape, but given his particular set of skills, Moldark doubted that very much. More likely, the enemy’s ship had emerged from a new void horizon somewhere near Worru, which meant they’d closed the first. At least that’s what he would have done.
“Brighton,” Moldark said over comms, summoning the admiral.
The man’s head and chest appeared in the holo projection again. “Yes, my lord.”
“Have the Peregrine readied at once. And I want two battlecruisers and escorts to be resupplied and ready to depart the system. Make sure there is a battalion of Paragon Marines at my disposal as well.”
Brighton hesitated, squinting through the feed. “You’re planning to pull these ships from the conflict, my lord?”
“A new goal has presented itself that needs my attention, yes.”
“Of course, my lord. But might I suggest—”
“You may suggest nothing, Admiral. My orders stand. Maintain pressure on the Jujari fleet but give me the ships that you deem temporarily nonessential. Also, I want a scout vessel sent to the quantum tunnel’s last known coordinates.”
“As you command, my lord. As for your destination?”
Moldark steepled his fingers and turned his chair back toward the space battle. “Worru.”
3
“You’re awfully quiet,” Willowood said, taking a seat beside Awen in the shuttle’s crew compartment. The crash couches were designed to fit Jujari-sized Novia Minoosh bodies, naturally, which meant humans—and Elonians in particular—considered the furniture to be unusually luxurious. If Awen hadn’t been so anxious about finding Piper, she could easily see herself taking a nap in such an all-consuming chair.
“Just thinking,” Awen replied, pleased to see Willowood join her.
A moment of silence passed between the two of them, then Willowood pointed out the starboard-side window causing the bangle bracelets on her wrist to chime together. “I never get tired of that. Seeing Worru from above, I mean.”
Awen turned to follow Willowood’s hand to the space-view of the Luma homeworld. “Neither do I.” She paused, then added, “It’s a lot safer than viewing it from down below.”
Awen felt her mentor’s eyes move to her face. “You’re still thinking about the accident. Valerie and Piper.”
“Of course I am,” Awen replied, more abruptly than she meant to. “Forgive me.”
“No need to apologize.” Willowood patted the top of Awen’s hand. “So am I.”
“But how do you do it? I mean, you seem so calm, so assured of everything.”
The elder woman smiled. “Then I’m a good actress.”
“Right. But it’s more than that for you. On the inside, I mean. You’re calm on the inside.”
“What are my other options, dear?”
“You could be freaking out,” Awen said, her nerves causing her to laugh. “Like me.”
Willowood laughed with Awen a little and squeezed her hand. “Can you control it?”
“Control my nerves?”
“No, no. It, the world around you, the t
hings others are doing. Can you control them?”
“Of course not.”
“So your brain knows that. But your heart doesn’t.”
“Then how do I send my heart the message?”
The older woman smiled and looked back out the window. “One of the things I’ve always loved most about you is that you believe you can fix the galaxy.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Far from it. Though it is somewhat naive.”
Awen wanted to be hurt, but she knew the woman was too wise to resort to personal insults. “Naive?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Other things? Like what?”
“Arrogant, narcissistic—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Awen put her hands up. “I’m good with naive. But I need you to explain.”
Willowood thought for a moment. “Tell me, Awen, has anyone been able to fix you when you were broken?”
“Fix me?”
The older woman nodded. “Through a sheer force of will, has anyone ever been able to make you change your course without you first consenting yourself?”
Awen knew better than to reply to such a question without giving it thought. She looked out the window as the shuttle neared Worru’s atmosphere. “No, I suppose not.”
“Which means that people are people.”
Awen looked back at Willowood and repeated the line to the older woman as if saying it would magically elicit more information.
“Sure,” Willowood replied. “People do what people want to do, and no matter how we might want them to choose differently, in the end, they live and die by their own decisions. If we are resistant to change, and to wise counsel, then we are naive, proud, and self-serving.”
“Thanks, Dr. Willowood.”
“Wait until you get my bill.” Willowood removed her hand from Awen’s and sat back. “Your heart cares so deeply for people that you want them to choose what’s right.”
“And that’s wrong?”
“No. That’s beautiful. But what is wrong is expecting your will to change theirs. That creates anxiety in you and them.”
“Then why try? Why do any of this?”
“Because you must do what you believe is right for you. If others want to follow you, that is their decision. And if they don’t?”
“It’s still their decision too,” Awen replied. She took a deep breath and blew some strands of hair away from her face. “To follow me.”
Willowood snapped her head toward Awen. “Says who?”
“Says… I don’t know. The cosmos.”
“So you’re the one deciding what’s best for everyone now?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure you did.”
Awen opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it.
“We all think our way is the right way,” Willowood said, closing her eyes. “Or else we wouldn’t be choosing it. And if we don’t think the things we’re doing are the best, then shame on us for not being authentic with ourselves.”
“So you’re saying I just stop trying to change everyone and worry about myself?”
“I’m saying you should sit back and enjoy these giant crash couches because they really are glorious.”
Awen smiled at Willowood even though the older woman’s eyes were closed. Then she settled back and sank into the cushions. “You miss her, don’t you?”
“Valerie? Yes. Especially considering how little time we had together. But I let my daughter go a long time ago, Awen. She’s been making her own choices and living by them just fine ever since. I did my part. And she lived her life, making every decision count right up to the last one.”
“The last one?” Awen sat up and looked at Willowood. “You mean choosing to fight against those Republic troopers?”
But Willowood shook her head, eyes still closed. “No. I mean, her choice to save others.”
“I don’t follow.”
Willow opened her eyes. “Have you gone back yet? To the firefight in the docking bay below the shuttles?”
Willowood was talking about calling the episode back from within the Unity. It was less like time travel and more like reviewing a holo movie in detail. And it also wasn’t something most practitioners could manage without a great deal of experience. But Awen’s new powers within the Unity had made such things far more manageable. Again, not time travel, but it felt pretty close to it.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you haven’t,” Willowood said. “Which I understand. No one wants to revisit that tragedy. But were you to, you’d notice that Valerie made one final decision that cost her everything.”
“Let me.” Awen held up a hand and closed her eyes.
“You don’t have to. I can tell you.”
“Please,” Awen said, already on her way back to the firefight. “I need to.”
From within the Unity, Awen summoned the strength of the Nexus, which united all things, and saw the docking bay appear. Unlike her natural memory that clouded details and created generalities, the Unity’s memory was perfect—at least when informed by the Nexus. The troopers were so real she could reach out and touch them. The sounds shook her belly, and the flashes of blaster fire made her wince. Even the smoke in the air and the odors of burning flesh and armor seemed real, pulling her back into the moment with unimaginable speed.
But this wasn’t just a memory she was seeing. This was the actual event indelibly imprinted on the cosmos’s ethereal fabric. There was no changing this, and to see it was to revisit what actually transpired.
Awen sped the scene forward as if she were advancing a holo movie to a desired location. She saw the image of her own body grab Piper and hoist her up the shuttle’s loading ramp. Then a blast of light from across the bay caused her to pause the scene. The rocket from a trooper’s shoulder-mounted weapon was frozen two meters from its tube, while blaster bolts hovered in midair.
Awen floated around the scene like a spirit, looking at the light reflecting off visors and dancing in terrified eyes. She passed through clouds thick with debris and mourned the soulless corpses of the dead as they fell to the ground. Then she found Magnus whose eyes recognized the incoming rocket. And beside him, Valerie, who had no idea she was experiencing her last seconds of life.
With a lump stuck in her throat, Awen moved the scene forward. The rocket trailed a white plume of spent accelerant as it careened toward Magnus. Then he pushed Valerie aside like a rag doll. Her personal shield took several rounds before the final blaster bolt went straight through her helmet. Awen could feel hot tears streaming down her cheeks as her mortal body sat beside Willowood. Then Valerie’s lifeless body slammed against the ground and slid to a halt.
“This is so hard to watch,” Awen said at last. “I didn’t see—”
“Her last act?”
“Magnus tries to save her, but she gets hit by enemy blaster fire.” Awen swallowed, trying to keep from throwing up.
“Look more closely.”
Awen moved the scene back again to where the blaster bolts drained Valerie’s shield. Her body was sideways, but her feet were still on the ground. Awen began playing the scene again, but slow, as if frame by frame on a holo display. That’s when Awen noticed Valerie’s body push off the ground—by her own two legs. Her hands thrust up, taking her further than Magnus’s push would have sent her, and put her head directly into the path of the blaster rounds that killed her. She must’ve have seen the troopers aim and thrown herself into their line of fire—on purpose.
“She…” Awen swallowed again. The image made her cry. “She moved toward those blaster rounds.”
“And who is behind her? Who else is in the line of fire?”
Awen moved her view until she could follow the bolts’ trajectories. Beyond it, past Valerie’s head, she saw herself. And she saw Piper.
The emotion was too much. Awen sobbed and broke her connection with her second sight. Instantly, she felt Willowood’s arms around
her. “There, there, my child.”
“She saved us.”
Willowood released Awen and wiped some tears off the younger woman’s cheek. “And now you know. It wasn’t Magnus or anyone else who killed Valerie. She chose. She gave her life for others.”
“Magnus needs to know this.”
“And I think I know just the person to tell him.”
Awen nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She hated crying. Normally. But it was right to do now. In fact, this had been the most she’d truly grieved for Valerie since she died. And it felt right. To be here with Willowood. To reflect on the value of sacrifice.
“You can’t change people, Awen. And you can’t make them do what you want them to. The most you can offer is your presence. You were there for my daughter, and she was there for you. That is the most anyone can offer.”
* * *
Awen and Willowood sat there for several minutes as the shuttle started plowing through Worru’s atmosphere, entering the planet on its dark side. Nolan was at the controls, with Magnus and Colonel Caldwell seated beside him, so Awen knew entry would be okay. Still, this part of flying was always the worst. She thought about grabbing the vomit bag in the seatback but then realized she was on an alien vessel. For all she knew, the Novia Minoosh didn’t even have regurgitation reflexes.
When the violent shuddering subsided and Awen could see Plumeria’s nightlights dotting the distant continent, she looked back at Willowood.
“What is it, my child?” the elderly woman asked.
“I went forward in time,” Awen said without preamble. But she had a feeling Willowood wouldn’t need context.
“In the Unity.”
Awen nodded.
“I see.” Willowood seemed to search Awen’s face, trying to divine the reason for this sudden sharing of information. “And?”
“And… I saw Piper.”
“A reflection of Piper,” Willowood added.
“But it was her. And she… she was with—”
“Awen, you mustn’t allow—”
“She was with Moldark.” Awen placed a hand on her chest. “I saw her. Standing beside him.”
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 136