“Good.” Machim shifted to him. “Do you have any updates on the Phoenix Gateway investigation? My troops are ready to Eradicate the anarchs, should you ever succeed in finding them.”
The destruction of the Phoenix Gateway—the first permanent wormhole to another galaxy ever constructed, six hundred millennia ago—by a set of antimatter bombs the month before had stirred up troublesome murmurs of dismay within the populace. It represented an audacious, too-public assault on the Directorate’s control. Long an annoyance, these ‘anarchs’ were now becoming actively problematic.
Praesidis nonetheless maintained a steady, unperturbed expression. “You know as well as I do they are not to be ‘found,’ for they represent a fragmented, loosely connected collection of terrorists and malcontents.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t need to be an Inquisitor to deduce that they are also either suicidal or they have Anadens in their ranks and a regenesis lab at some physical location. Physical locations can be found and destroyed.”
“This is not a new or noteworthy observation, Machim. We have destroyed their largest base before and doing so did not eliminate the threat but instead emboldened it. The better and more permanent solution is to deprive the anarchs of Anaden members, as without them the resistance will atrophy and die. Erevna, tell me you have made tangible progress on a method to preclude the emergence of these aberrations in future generations.”
She glared at Praesidis with imperious disdain, as if he were a child rather than an immortal. “We covered this at the last assembly, in addition to at least three before it. Unless we exclude a sense of individuality and the perception of free will altogether, we can expect to continue to see deviations at a rate of approximately one per two hundred million individuals.
“If we do erase these traits, studies indicate the affected Dynasty members will become unproductive. With no reason to act, they will eventually cease doing so. In my opinion, this minimal anomaly rate is an acceptable price to maintain proper balance.”
Anomalies. A cold, science-swathed word for Anaden progeny who, whether randomly or upon being provoked by some impactful experience, rejected their Dynasty integral and vanished from their Primor’s sight. More often than not, they also dropped out of the Accepted social and physical infrastructure to live on the fringes, a move which rendered them untraceable.
Machim gestured in a theatrical display of open frustration, thrusting an arm toward the Agora’s wall and the core beyond it. “And this was acceptable, until the anarchs started blowing up important and very visible public utilities. This escalation in hostilities is not acceptable. Praesidis, I request you station three Inquisitors at each gateway and all Class IV facilities. Such a reprehensible event must not occur a second time.”
“I do not have enough Inquisitors to meet the request. Besides, they are all currently pursuing important assignments.”
“Then grow more.”
Machim’s passive-aggressive challenging of him had waxed and waned for the entirety of their existence. Driven by a surfeit of avarice, the man had never conceded to the irrefutable reality that, despite the millions of warships Machim fielded, Praesidis and his Inquisitors held the true power.
Praesidis’ eyes flashed violent crimson; tendrils of diati roiled out to caress his temples. “Inquisitors are not guards and they are certainly not interchangeable drones, and they will not be demeaned by being treated as such.”
Machim took a half-step forward…and retreated. “Watchmen then, but make it five per facility.”
Despite the recent destruction of a gateway, the notion these ‘anarchs’ posed anything approaching a legitimate threat remained an absurd one. But the Directorate had ruled Amaranthe for a million years in part by never letting any unorthodoxy, no matter how incidental, slither through the cracks to a place where it might fester and grow.
He nodded with a confidence that suggested he had planned to do so all along. “Security checkpoint staffing and restrictions will be doubled as well. There will not be a repeat of the Phoenix Gateway incident, and the anarchs will soon be erased from our history.”
2
MILKY WAY SECTOR 23
EXOBIOLOGY RESEARCH LAB #4
* * *
“IT DOESN’T ALWAYS come down to explosives, Cosime.”
“No, but they’re the most fun.”
“Oh, sure. Right up until the excruciating pain followed by agonizing death part.”
The memory of his last such experience continued to linger in the recesses of Eren asi-Idoni’s mind. The Phoenix Gateway obliteration was a sensational feat to pull off, and witnessing the antimatter work its magic up close and personal had absolutely been worth the pain followed by death which resulted. Still, he didn’t feel inclined to repeat the stunt—or not until the more negative aspects had faded from memory, anyway.
“You just need to learn how to get out of the way better.”
Bloodlust wasn’t a trait most people expected to find in a Naraida. Reedy and slight of frame, with long, hyper-flexible limbs, delicate features and luminescent hair as soft as feathers, the Communis name for the species was derived from the word for ‘fairy’ for several reasons. If naiveté counted as one of them, however, it had been a mistake.
He scowled at Cosime Rhomyhn in an embellished display of exasperation. “You’re welcome to take my place on the next mission and show me how it’s done.”
She cackled, enormous emerald eyes dancing with mirth above the frills of her breather lines. In typical fashion for her, the spiraire more closely resembled wearable art than a functional nitrogen supplement.
“Don’t be silly, Eren. Weak, helpless little me can’t possibly do something scary and dangerous like perform one of your missions.”
“And you better hope the Directorate keeps on believing that nonsense.”
He turned to the viewport. The banter was a fun diversion, but they were here to scope out a target, and they were lingering for too long too close to its security perimeter. The tiny scout ship on loan from Anarch Post Epsilon disguised itself by broadcasting false readings, and if they didn’t take drastic action, they should be able to remain hidden.
But floating around on the outskirts of a secure Erevna facility made him twitchy. And as Cosime often pointed out, twitchy soon became ornery.
The lumbering hulk of metal that was Exobiology Research Lab #4—it obviously had been designed by scientists rather than architects—orbited a bright blue B7 V star. No planets or other artificial structures existed in the system, and the quarantine procedures required to enter the facility were strict in the extreme. Inside, samples of plant and animal life collected across multiple galaxies were studied for useful insights into evolutionary tendencies, in the hope they could aid in the cultivation of new xeno-biological, -viral and -genetic strains.
It might be proper and even admirable scientific work if the research was limited to plants and non-sentient animals. The ‘samples,’ however, included members of intelligent alien species who for one reason or another had failed to pass muster and gain Accepted Species status. They were experimented on as ruthlessly as the rest of the specimens.
Whatever the results of those experiments, none ever left the facility again.
He watched a cargo vessel dock in the bay suspended below the structure after multiple scans. The procedure was the same as the last three dockings. “I’ll blow it if I have to, but I’d prefer to get more creative this time.” Make the scientists endure some fraction of the agony they’ve inflicted on their test subjects went unsaid.
In contrast to the Phoenix Gateway’s destruction, this mission’s primary purpose was not to undermine the Directorate, though it stood to accomplish that as a bonus. No, this mission was an act of mercy.
Cosime hopped up on the dash to face him. Her arms and legs continued moving, if aimlessly. She never stopped moving, swaying, leaping, tumbling. For the moment it was only swaying, but the incessant motion was energetic enoug
h to send her pure white hair bouncing about. The starlight beyond the viewport increased its natural glow to radiant levels.
As a side effect of the luminosity, the inky scar beneath her left eye blackened in stark relief. It had been earned at the end of a whip wielded by a displeased Kyvern superior; instead of getting it healed when she’d joined the anarchs, she’d altered it into the silhouette of a soaring broad-winged bird. Once, when in an unusually introspective mood, she’d told him there were other, deeper scars elsewhere, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d reshaped them into art as well.
“You know, you could let the inmates out of the asylum.”
He scoffed. “Sneak inside and disable the security protocols? The prisoners would never make it off the station. If they somehow made it off the station, they’d never make it past the security perimeter.”
“True.” She leapt up and twirled around to press her hands against the viewport and stare outside. He realized she felt confined by the narrow walls of the cabin—another reason not to stay here too long, as he didn’t care to watch her suffer. “But at least they could take their revenge on their captors. And by doing so, your end goal would still be achieved. I mean, your intent is to punish the Erevna here, isn’t it?”
Being circumspect earlier hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. She knew him too well, which was…weird, since nobody knew him well. He shrugged in agreement.
“Then this is a better plan, no? Guaranteed vengeful, righteous violence.”
The possibility of the imprisoned aliens slaughtering—or worse—the Erevna researchers held morbid appeal, and he enjoyed picturing the imagined carnage for a minute before leaning into the dash and sighing.
“You’re assuming they’ll fight back. Rise up. But no one does that, Cosime. No one but us.”
She sank down onto her heels wearing a pout. “All the anarchs do.”
“A few thousand among two and a half trillion. Most people, most creatures of any kind, aren’t like us. It never occurs to them to fight…I don’t think it even occurs to them that they ought to be free.”
“But—”
“Everyone inside this lab already chose not to fight. If they’d done otherwise, they wouldn’t be inside—they’d be dead back on their home planets. We open the doors to their cages, and the prisoners will simply cower in the corners waiting to be disciplined.”
She watched him studiously for several seconds, then adjusted one of the spiraire lines with the tip of a finger. “So, explosives, then?”
3
SOLUM
MILKY WAY SECTOR 1
* * *
THE PRAESIDIS PRIMOR CONSIDERED THE HORIZON and all that stretched from his feet to its penumbra. An endless city encompassed not merely his citadel and its surroundings but the entirety of the surface, for Solum was a city-planet in the most literal sense. Spires stretched into the clouds and beyond, and the span of their gleaming glass and metal paused only for craft parks floating aloft at perfectly spaced intervals.
A time had come, epochs past, when the other Dynasties were no longer content to share land with one another. One after another they departed the Anaden homeworld to establish independent domiciles on worlds of their own. All Dynasty progeny naturally remained welcome to visit whenever they wished, and many were always doing so.
But in the end, Praesidis alone called Solum home and Praesidis alone ruled over it. This was as it should be, because while all Dynasties were equal at the Directorate’s circle, Praesidis was the reason the Directorate existed. His had stood as the strongest since the Dynasties’ establishment.
Machim had his fleets and mighty weapons; Erevna had her knowledge and scientific pursuits; Antalla had his commercial riches, Diaplas her engineered monuments, Theriz his stores of resources and Idoni her perpetual bliss. But Praesidis more than any other ensured they all continued to have such things. Ensured the proper balance and order was maintained.
Praesidis was the diati’s chosen ally, companion and vessel, and it was only proper that the birthplace of the Anadens be his dominion.
He departed from the balcony and walked across the transparent floor, where beneath his feet a thousand stories of purposeful activity unfolded as a recursive hall of mirrors. When he reached the center of the open room, he created a dampening sphere around him and it all faded away, to be replaced with a visualization—further, a conscious awareness—of every living Praesidis descendant.
The Inquisitors radiated the most dominant presences, of course, and he assimilated each one’s location, purpose and current status. The more numerous Watchmen hovered a layer beneath. They were less nomadic by nature and typically held less unique, original information to provide. Beneath them swarmed billions of chaperons, guards, examiners and analysts.
Yet if he wished it, he could know the state of any individual asi with but an intentional thought directed at them. His presence in their minds manifested as little more than a tickle, for the access did not flow upward.
The prolonged absence of a single Inquisitor marred the integral like a hole punched through a wall. Aver ela-Praesidis passed beyond his perception during a routine investigation weeks ago and had yet to return.
Temporary vanishings were not unheard of. Though immortal and wielding a measure of power to rival any god, the Primor was still a corporeal creature. There were dimensions he could not sense while existing in the physical realm of Amaranthe. The vanishings inevitably resolved themselves when the individual, almost always an Inquisitor, returned to normal space upon having completed their mission.
But Aver had remained away for quite a long time now. The Primor studied the details of the assignment the Inquisitor was working: the apparent disappearance of the majority of a Tier II-D species shortly prior to the Cultivation of their system. Spacefaring in the most rudimentary sense, the species would not have possessed the capability to detect the pre-Cultivation monitoring and evaluation procedures, nor would they have had a way to know in advance the fate which awaited them.
Hence the investigation.
The mass disappearance of the species constituted a troubling event, but not an unprecedented one. Such sudden exoduses had occurred a few times over the millennia, but not so often he would characterize it as a trend.
Aver’s last update had been filed as he entered the stellar system in question. Then, nothing.
Inquisitors enjoyed a degree of freedom of action and decision-making rare among Anadens, much less among the other civilized species of Amaranthe. Such freedom was not granted lightly. Inquisitors were bred for it, with hundreds of generations of genetic manipulation directed at creating individuals unrivaled in deductive and inductive thinking, analysis and judgment. Detectives. Hunters. Assassins, when the situation called for it.
Aver would not have been expected to report in at each step of his investigation; such an act would have bordered on weakness. In exchange for their relative freedom, Inquisitors were expected to achieve results, period.
The Primor’s review of the irregularity served to increase his displeasure with it. Aver had in fact been gone for too long, and no reasonable explanation had been presented to justify the absence. What had happened to the man?
The entry alarm chimed. Because this review had taken place as a formality, and because he’d known he would need to take action before he took it, he’d called for Nyx this morning.
There existed only twelve elassons in the Praesidis Dynasty, all Inquisitors, and they each were his children as surely as if he’d spawned them. Which in the ways that mattered, he had.
He froze the sphere state, granted entry to his guest and met her halfway. His hands closed in front of his chest as hers did the same, and they bowed in unison. “Nyx, my dear. Thank you for coming.”
Her chin remained dipped for a breath after her spine straightened. “I am forever in your service, Primor.”
Fond greeting dispensed with, he revisited the sphere and retrieved the quantized rec
ord that represented the missing man—his past, his personal and professional history, his mission and everything else she may need to know to find him.
“Inquisitor Aver ela-Praesidis vanished on a mission too long ago. His consciousness did not transmit for regenesis, nor is it present in the integral now. He was new to the ela rank but proved worthy of the promotion in previous assignments. Complete his mission, learn what fate befell him and determine if there is an additional threat which needs to be addressed. If so, report it to me then address it.”
“It will be done, Primor.” She accepted the data, and its physicality vanished into her hand as she absorbed the knowledge. Nothing more needed to be said or imparted, so she bowed in farewell then turned and left.
4
MW SECTOR 23 ADMINISTRATION
MILKY WAY SECTOR 23
* * *
COSIME HEADED OFF TO locales unknown to acquire the necessary explosives from one of her suppliers. She had a proper job, of course, working for Vanierel at Liryns Cathedral on Palomar IV, as non-Anadens weren’t allowed to just cavort around the cosmos at will. But Vanierel was, if not quite an anarch, at a minimum sympathetic to the cause, and he overlooked her frequent absences.
Luckily, nothing so extreme as antimatter was needed for this mission. The detonation would occur inside an enclosed structure, and the lab’s edifice was like tissue compared to the goliath Phoenix Gateway. A solid pack of average, ordinary ultra-dense high-powered explosives should suffice to get the job done. Also, though ruining the structure itself would be a nice bonus, the objective was the elimination of what and who resided inside. This included the prisoners—again, a mission of mercy.
Eren proceeded to MW Sector 23 Administration to set about obtaining a list of vessels approved for deliveries to Exobiology Research Lab #4 and their security authorization details.
Relativity: Aurora Resonant Book One (Aurora Rhapsody 7) Page 2