But he was going to have to do it himself.
He crawled to the cockpit chair and dragged himself to his feet, then collapsed onto the dash. Sweet, eternal oblivion was a scant 0.7 AU away. He fixated on the orange star boiling against the blackness. In a last act of egoism, he would die once and for all the way he had lived: burning brightly and flaming out. Even if no one would ever know.
Tears streamed down his face as he felt along the HUD for the navigation controls and set the ship’s course for the star.
As the engine engaged, a flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Before he could turn toward it, a heavy whack landed on the back of his head and everything went dark.
11
* * *
EPITHERO
Kyvern Dynasty Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
Ferdinand elasson-Kyvern stared out the window at the shining sea of white and chrome stretching to the horizon beneath him. His homeworld was pristine and immaculate always. A beacon of efficiency, productivity and order. The death of his Primor fourteen years earlier had caused a momentary stumble on his Dynasty’s part, but the Kyvern machine drove onward, for the work to be done to ensure a properly functioning empire never ceased.
He tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind his ear and resumed his seat at the head of the table. The Kyvern Primor had long sat in this seat, and he hoped the imagery was not lost on those present.
The bickering had continued unabated while he’d briefly vacated, and he was forced to clear his throat loudly to be heard over the din. “Enough. We will discuss these issues like civilized leaders.”
“And what if we’re neither?” Jhalana elasson-Idoni’s opalescent hair was bound into a sea of braids, and her ice-green eyes were narrow rings around dilated pupils. She idly twirled the stem of a champagne glass between two fingers. She was high, because what else would an Idoni be while attending a crucial strategy meeting?
Ferdinand rued his decision to allow her to be a part of this council, and not for the first time. Most of the Idoni elassons couldn’t be bothered to attend to the mundanity of rebellion, though, and he needed at least one Idoni representative here for appearance’s sake. With her at the table, every Dynasty was represented—except for Praesidis, but no one had seen or heard from a Praesidis elasson in over a decade.
“Then we should try harder to stay sober at a minimum. Now, where were we?”
“We were trying and failing to decide what it is we are intending to do. Your little coup attempt failed miserably, and now we are holed up on this…” Otto elasson-Machim shuddered “…bureaucratic hellhole of a planet trying to come up with a plan for how to move forward. But to have a plan, we first need a goal.”
“We do. I propose—”
Otto interrupted. “If Torval were here, he would propose our goal be to take the entire Machim fleet and turn Concord HQ into a crater in space. And I’d be inclined to agree with him.”
“So the next day the entire AEGIS armada can show up here and turn this building and ten kilometers in every direction into a similarly sized crater in the ground?”
Ferdinand’s mouth curled downward in Basra elasson-Kyvern’s direction. Even by Kyvern standards, his sister was a peevish coward. “They don’t know where we are.”
“It’s not as if it’s difficult to figure out.”
He’d considered this reality in the immediate aftermath of the coup attempt, before dismissing the risk involved. He needed to surround himself with the comfort, security and efficient systems of home if he was to be expected to lead an uprising.
“Should an AEGIS armada arrive, the planetary defenses will protect us, not to mention the Machim warships in orbit. But I don’t expect such an armada to show up. Concord and AEGIS are in similar panic modes right now. They’re both leaderless and knocked back on their heels by their disastrous encounter with the Rasu in the Gennisi galaxy. They will be weeks regaining their bearings, if they ever do, which is why we need to come out strong now, while they are weak.
“As I was preparing to say, I propose we formally withdraw from Concord and form our own government. Let us rule ourselves, in the manner Anadens have always ruled. In a year’s time, we will be the true power in the Milky Way. In all surrounding galaxies.”
“And what about Concord? Are they our enemy, as Otto suggests? Do we destroy all they’ve built, or treaty with them as equals? Our supply chains for vital goods and materials are now inexorably entangled with those of the Concord member species. Declaring ourselves ‘independent’ is not a simple matter. You cannot wave your hands and make it so.” Rachele elasson-Theriz flicked her wrist toward the table for added emphasis.
Ferdinand tried to look stern while holding at bay a screaming retort of I don’t know! He disagreed with how Concord conducted itself, and he didn’t care for being overruled by lesser species in important votes. Now they expected him to poof! come up with a new, fully functioning government, diplomatic corps and supply chain network out of thin air? Did he have to do everything himself?
He made sure his voice sounded calm and measured. “As tempting as it is, I believe we ought not to attack Concord directly—at least not right away. Let us first establish ourselves. Work out those supply chains and construct a proper government. Later, once our position is solidified, we can adopt a harder, more uncompromising stance toward Concord. They need not be our enemy unless they choose it, but they assuredly are our adversary. For now, though, the important thing is that we are no longer taking orders from the Humans.”
A rumbling concurrence overtook the table; finally, something they all agreed on.
Otto clasped his meaty hands atop the table. “What’s the status of the Asterions?”
“My sources tell me the Rasu demolished their minuscule fleet. It won’t be long before the Rasu have exterminated the Asterions for us. I say we let them. We have larger concerns here.”
“And the Savrakaths?”
Ferdinand gestured dismissively in Otto’s direction. “Destroy them. Bomb them into Eradication, then send in a Theriz Cultivation Unit. The resources we acquire can fortify some of our new supply chains.”
Lars elasson-Theriz threw his hands in the air and shoved his chair back, though he didn’t stand. “The Cultivation Units no longer exist.”
“But the cultivation equipment does, doesn’t it? Call it whatever you like, but harvest Savrak’s resources, and let us be done with the troublesome lizards.”
Otto shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Who are you to order the Eradication of a species?”
Ferdinand almost choked on his lemon spritzer. “Excuse me?”
“They have antimatter weapons, so I’m happy to destroy their military capability and put them in their place. But I don’t take orders from you, and I’m more inclined to go drop appropriate firepower on the Asterions instead of trusting these Rasu to finish the job.”
“The purpose of this discussion is to decide on a way forward for all Anadens. There has to be a chain of command, or chaos will ensue.”
“And you’re putting yourself at the top of it?”
“No, I am merely trying to lead an organized and productive discussion—”
Hannah challenged Otto from across the table. “Forget the Asterions and the Savrakaths. We should save our military resources for our defense. I believe Concord will recover far more quickly than Ferdinand proclaims. They will not take kindly to our actions and might not wait for us to attack them before retaliating.”
Ferdinand was trying to formulate a response to either of them when a third Machim, Ulric, jumped in. “Then let us attack them before they can attack us.”
Hannah shook her head firmly. “Only a fraction of their fleets are stationed at Concord HQ. Are you suggesting we attack Earth? Seneca? Nopreis? And what about the Kats? Don’t you think they will come to the defense of the very allies who helped them topple the Directorate? An offensive strategy is madness.”
/>
Otto scoffed. “Machims have always won through strength and decisiveness. Would you instead have us cower in fear behind the Kyverns’ trousers?”
“Of course not! But we must use our strength wisely. We cannot go attacking every group that has annoyed us.”
“Can’t we?”
Hannah leveled a piercing glower at her brother. “I just said we can’t.”
“What you mean is you won’t. Fine. You can leave the room and transfer control of your fleets to me.”
“Enough!” Ferdinand stood and slammed his hands onto the table. “Ulrich, you can do whatever you want with the Savrakaths, but do not attack Concord interests. We will lose.”
“I think it’s been too long since you saw what a real Machim fleet can do.”
“Fall in line, Ulrich. The only way we succeed is through unity.”
“Unity?” Otto scoffed. “I count, what, twenty-nine of us here? How can we have unity when most of the elassons aren’t even present? Twelve million Machim ships are out there under the control of elassons who have elected not to join our council. Maybe they’re siding with Concord. Maybe they’ve decided to fly off into the void and never come back. All I know is they aren’t listening to you, Ferdinand. So why should I?”
Ferdinand pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. The two most influential Machim personalities weren’t at the table to bully their siblings into compliance. Torval had been kidnapped, presumably by Concord interests, and Casmir was locked up under guard in a suite two floors below. Torval, were he here, would convince the other Machims to deploy their millions of warships against each and every one of their enemies, a gambit Ferdinand feared would end in failure, leaving them weakened when they most needed to be formidable. Casmir, on the other hand, was liable to package those warships up and hand them over to Concord while begging forgiveness. Neither path would get Ferdinand what he wanted, but he had to find some way to bring the Machim elassons who were here to heel under his guidance.
He straightened up and tried to don an inspirational guise. “Someone has to lead, and we all must realize it needs to be a Kyvern. This is what we do. Now, I’ve spent the last decade representing our people in the Senate. As such, I ask you, Otto, and everyone at the table to recognize my authority, if only temporarily and borne of necessity.”
Otto growled as he stood. “I need to check on the readiness status of my ships. We can resume this discussion later.” With that, he spun and strode out of the room, leaving Ferdinand standing there, his mouth agape, looking like nothing so much as an ineffectual fool.
PART II
OLDER & FAR AWAY
ASTERION DOMINION
12
* * *
MIRAI
DAF/Ridani Enterprises Component Factory
Dashiel walked the partially constructed assembly line at the new component factory in Mirai Two. His hands drifted across random equipment, robotic arms and conveyors, checking connections and braces. He’d walked such lines thousands of times in his life, inspecting the quality of their assembly and searching for greater efficiencies.
Materials shortages for components had represented their biggest bottleneck before the Rasu attacked Namino, and little had changed on that front now. Teams scoured the galaxy for the rare materials needed for warships and hauled them in as quickly as their equipment allowed, but he was not a magician. He could not manufacture another fleet out of thin air.
Palmer had been discharged from the regen clinic this morning, and Dashiel expected that only a few hours remained before the Commander’s warpath led the man to his door. Palmer would demand the impossible, and Dashiel wouldn’t blame him for doing so.
He drew back to take in the multiple parallel lines here on the floor and overhead in the towering facility. Palmer was likely to want a fleet of new ships immediately, but he worried whether it was wise to blindly repeat their actions from before the attack. They’d busted their asses to produce tens of thousands of vessels in record time; those tens of thousands of vessels were then eradicated in a matter of hours upon contact with the Rasu. Why build tens of thousands more vessels, just to see the same thing happen the next time they dared to engage the enemy?
He’d build the new vessels using adiamene, no question, but the bloom was now off even that rose. He’d spoken briefly with Kennedy Rossi this morning, long enough to confirm that Concord, too, was hyper-aware of the weakness in adiamene the Rasu had exposed. She had not put forth any brilliant ideas on a practical way to make adiamene seamless and thus impervious to Rasu intrusion. Neither had he.
He knew he shouldn’t be so fatalistic. Adiamene hulls were certain to make a tremendous difference in the durability of their ships—no longer would they crumple to Rasu fire like paper mâché planes. Conceptual Research scientists had improved the propulsion of starship engines by fifteen percent over where they’d started, and a weapons-focused ceraff were squeezing another eighteen percent firepower out of warship laser weapons. Collectively, the Dominion’s greatest minds were digging their way out of the ditch they’d dug for themselves by not prioritizing spaceship technology all these millennia, and this next fleet was going to be stronger, tougher and faster than the one that had preceded it.
Still, he couldn’t get the sight of Rasu swallowing state of the art warships whole out of his mind. A single tiny gap was all the enemy needed—then they had you. Your people, your technology, your data.
He didn’t dare hold up new production until he invented an effective counter, but he also couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that until he solved this problem, they were simply repeating the same mistakes.
Omoikane Initiative
Caleb Marano was headed to Namino in a suicidal gambit to rescue his niece. He hadn’t offered Nika a seat on his ship, and while every bone in her body had screamed at her to demand one…she hadn’t done it. Given time to calm down, distance from the immediate horror of the attack and a few fitful hours of sleep here and there, she’d talked herself into believing that right now—for the next few days and possibly weeks—she needed to be here. She owed it to her people to lead them through this crisis. To find a way forward.
So she’d loaded Caleb up with information on Namino One, including a map of the city’s layout and the locations of the underground bunkers, and wished him well.
“Advisor, our recon craft has succeeded in departing Namino. Expect visuals momentarily.”
“Thank you, Brigadier.” She paced across the full breadth of the Initiative, both terrified and anxious to view the scene on the ground. She hated being blind, of course, but there was no way the visuals were going to bring good news. Still, a ship had reached the Namino surface and departed to tell the tale. She could have the Wayfarer there in a few hours…and do what? Wander the streets searching for survivors and slicing up stray Rasu with her archine blades? No. She needed to lead from here, remember?
“Nika.”
She spun around to see Dashiel jogging toward her. She smiled in relief and, when he reached her, buried herself in his arms. She’d acted awful toward him in those initial hours, for which she’d apologized profusely and repeatedly. The truth was, she’d felt empty and alone this morning when he left to oversee construction at the new component facility. The truth was, she was stronger with him at her side.
She took everything she could from the warmth of his embrace, until she had no choice but to let go. “Our ship made it out. Time to learn what havoc the Rasu have wrought.”
They joined Brigadier Johansson in front of the left-most pane along the rear wall as the captured video began streaming a visualization of their worst nightmares brought to life.
Rasu vessels reigned supreme in the skies over every city and manufacturing center on Namino. The shining towers of Namino One lay crumbled in ruins, though not Namino Tower itself. If only this was a positive sign instead of yet another harbinger of further doom to come. The Rasu had recognized the Tower’s importance and were
currently stealing everything. Hundreds of millennia’s worth of data and records. The history of the Dominion and its people.
The cam swept across the streets of downtown from high above—close enough to capture the thousands of bodies littering the streets but far enough away to spare them the bloody details of their deaths.
Her breath caught in her throat, as if someone had again sucked most of the oxygen out of the room. “This is…all those people. They didn’t deserve this.”
Dashiel sighed quietly. “I don’t think the Rasu are the type to think in terms of ‘deserving.’ They consume everything they encounter—”
“Advisor Kirumase? I’m sorry to disturb you.”
She turned as one of the DAF security officers approached her. “Yes?”
“Lieutenant Kiernan Phillips, the pilot who crashed during the attack on the Rasu stronghold—”
“I’m aware of who he is.”
“Of course. He’s downstairs now, accompanied by the two individuals who assisted him and the Taiyok in escaping from the Rasu-occupied world they crashed on.”
She didn’t know anything about Kiernan’s rescuers, other than that they were Anatype aliens, which meant she was politely being asked to act as a diplomat. She glanced back at the pane in time to see the camera viewpoint swerve and jerk upward—the pilot avoiding an approaching Rasu vessel, no doubt. “Lance ought to be here in a few minutes, but I’m happy to speak with them until he arrives.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll show them in.”
Her attention drifted inexorably back to the visuals. The pilot had escaped detection and moved on to the southern sector of the city, where kilometers of warehouses and factories had been flattened like pancakes. No, she was wrong earlier—she should be there. She should be fighting—
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