“Your boots? Who the hell throws boots? Are you out of your mind?” but Hunter saw that he was serious. “This is it, I’m going to die, aren’t I?”
“They’re all I’ve got left… unless you want us both to rush him.”
“What the hell, we’re going to be dead in a minute anyway,” said Hunter, crawling toward the back of the missile.
Constantine waited until he saw Hunter cautiously peer over the back of the missile, then began to slowly remove his boots. Quite possibly the stupidest plan he had ever had, but this was what he was left with. He positioned himself and looked toward Constantine, who nodded once quickly.
Hunter charged.
The Intruder turned toward him, raising his weapon.
Constantine stood up and threw the first boot toward the intruder, he ducked it easily. He tossed the second.
There was a suddenly flash of light.
There was a sudden total darkness.
Bodies collided, tumbled together, rolled.
The darkness broke in stabs of strobing light, then dissipated. When it cleared, Constantine stood over the Hunter and the Intruder, whom Hunter had pinned to the deck.
“Your boots… exploded,” Hunter said, looking rather stunned.
Constantine grunted. The Notorium called it NightBringer, four seconds of complete darkness. No need to tell the likes of Hunter about it. He bent over, and pulled off the intruder’s life mask. Long honey-blond hair spilled out. A slender arm bore the tattoo of the number six over the image of a wand.
Their intruder was a woman after all.
“For the People of Republic,” Constantine said, these were the closest thing the Notorium had to Holy Words, “I take you as my prisoner.”
“You’re too late,” she hissed. “I die, but Aurelia triumphs.” Her eyes flashed right, toward the warhead, and toward the weapon she had hitched to the side, now pulsing blue. Constantine lunged toward the missile.
It was a fairly straightforward arrangement. The intruder had left the lance weapon attached to the warhead and set it to overload. The resulting explosion would rupture the containment field, allowing an uncontrolled matter-antimatter reaction that would blow up the front of the ship, probably rupturing additional warheads in a vast explosion that would turn Pegasus into a cloud of vaporized metal.
Constantine only needed to look for a moment to know it was too late to stop the overload. He stepped backwards very calmly, crouched himself as low as he could, closed his eyes and stuck his fingers in his ears.
The flash was horrific.
The missile spat out showers and showers of sparks and waves of multicolored light, sending the whole chamber briefly into a strobing, photonegative.
When it was over, Constantine surveyed the damage. The outer hull of the missile had peeled away in layers. There was a great scorched hole in the center of the damage, as though someone had held a blow-torch to it. He grunted in satisfaction. “Silly woman, do really think we would have made our most powerful weapons as easy to sabotage as that?”
“Exploding boots,” Hunter said. “I can’t believe you wear exploding boots.” Winter – The Library
Commander Redfire stumbled out of the tunnel. He was on some vast metal structure, surrounded by water. He turned toward the tower where he had been held. Above him stretched hundreds of meters of tarnished gray metal.
“Ranking Phil, is that you?”
He spun around. Keeler was standing on the same ledge as he, perhaps a hundred meters away, with a group of Ancients and a woman wearing a ship’s uniform. He began to stumble toward them.
“We detected human life signs and climbed up to this level,” Keeler said when Redfire reached their position. It was actually not that far above their initial landing point. “Are you all right?” he asked again.
“I’m… not,” Redfire said.
“Who’s that?” Gotobed asked.
They turned. A large, angry woman was charging down the rail, waving a very large weapon. She fired again and again. Small projectile blasts burst all around them. Keeler, Gotobed, and the Ancients hit the deck.
Redfire did not turn toward her. Shakily, he walked across the ledge as the projectiles continued to burst in the air around him and ping off the side of the tower. They were like tiny missiles, capable of exploding on impact or in the air. As each one detonated, a blue fireball, about the size of a hand-fruit, appeared and vanished, indicating the size of the hole the weapon would punch in a human.
Redfire reached the spot where General Ziang was lying. Projectiles continued to zing and burst around him as he slowly, carefully, reached down with shaking arms and, with fingers that trembled from cold and hunger, picked up the harpoon gun.
He stood erect, turned to face his nemesis, and raised the harpoon gun to his shoulder. Mercuria saw him, stopped charging, and cocked her head. With an evil smile, she steadied her own gun, and drew a bead on Commander Redfire.
Redfire breathed deeply and tried to steady the shaking gun. A purple bead flashed in his eyes, her targeting beam, disorienting him further. He closed his eyes and aimed from memory.
He fired.
She fired.
The kick of the harpoon gun shoved him aside and against the sea-rail. He scrambled to grab hold as the shot went wide, and finally detonated over the sea, a bigger blast than the preceding one.
Redfire looked up to see Mercuria.
Mercuria, the Nine of Wands, stood against the sea-rail, what was left of her, but the harpoon had passed cleanly through her. Face, brains, and the back of her head had disappeared, leaving just a ragged hole outlined by her skull. Redfire could see daylight shining clearly through the shell of her cranium.
Then, like a drunken gymnast losing her balance, she flipped over bar and toppled into the sea.
Redfire handed the harpoon gun back to Ziang, muttering something flippant and ironic that no one, in the heat of the moment, quite caught. Keeler, Gotobed, and the Ancients carefully picked themselves up from the cold, metal ledge.
“One of the Aurelian provacateurs,” Redfire told them. “She killed Manchester, then, she kidnapped me, tried to turn me to her side. Does anyone have anything to eat?” Keeler handed him a big of honey-roasted nuts.
“If that’s the end of that chapter,” Keeler said, “I want to see the inside of that library, now.”
“Library?” Redfire stammered. “You mean I’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and molested in a library?”
“I bet you’ll never have another overdue book,” Keeler muttered. “Come on, you people, let’s go in.
Now! Come on! Come on!”
The Commander led the way into the tunnel from which Redfire had entered. He wished he had brought some glow balls. Gotobed hit her wrist lights. Ziang and Tyronius lit torches.
“The records are toward the interior,” Ziang said. “In the central core.”
“Right, the central core, that’s just where I would put them,” Keeler muttered. They kept walking, past branches off and passageways leading to other parts of the ship. Through these halls which, 4,000
years ago, colonists had once passed. And, Keeler reminded himself, the same people were still around.
That’s when the impact of this planet’s weirdness really hit him between the eyes, but there was no time to consider it. He was on a mission.
The central core of the colony pod housed a huge central processor, now more or less inert, although the optical files locked inside would contain trillions of datapoints and unknown volumes about the Commonwealth.
Up to the top, level upon level, were books upon books. There were bound books of paper and leather, electronic pads and files, crystal storage sticks, super thin light tubes, holographic memory waves, and those weird shiny things that transferred knowledge to the brain with a single touch. They reached up as far as his eyes could see, and far below as well. The spaces in between the bookshelves and data storage racks were packed with crates and boxes, containing maps,
posters, and artifacts.
Keeler’s eyes began to glisten. I have the whole knowledge base of the Commonwealth before me, an inner voice said.
And a life as long as you need it to be to study it, a more sinister voice chimed in.
Keeler felt suddenly as though some kind of wave were washing over him, a terrible revelation. If he wanted to, he could spend thousands of years here on Winter, in this library, until he had had studied every scroll, page, and byte of information. Pegasus could go on, with Goneril Lear as captain. He would have everything he needed to cheerfully blast apart thousands of historical treatises with evidence none of those fools had access to. He would become the keeper of this library, its guardian. He would become wise and eccentric and guard his treasure with all the resolve he could muster.
Temptation was staring him down. He had all bit submitted, when Lord Brigand stepped forward.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
“It’s… everything,” Keeler said.
Brigand nodded gravely, then leaned beside him on the rail. “Engineering knowledge and customs from thousands of worlds, the largest repository of human knowledge left in the galaxy. The secret to weapons of unimaginable destruction, the location of every world, including Earth herself, the secret of hyperspatial navigation.”
I could start my own University, Keeler thought. A modest campus with a liberal arts focus, right on the beach where the village is now. Scholars from every star system in the Perseus arm could…
Brigand went on, “teleportation, terra-forming, quantum leap technology in genetic enhancement, the secret locations of the most advanced worlds and secret research centers of the old Commonwealth.” Brigand shook his head and withdrew two small, black spheres from the pockets of his leather topcoat.
“The tragic loss of this library will be a great setback for Aurelia, but the human resistance can not be permitted this knowledge. If Aurelia can not have this treasure, then no one can.” Lord Brigand said. He then hurled the two black spheres, one after another, deep into the core For a moment, the Commander was not sure what was happening. When he figured out, there was barely time to scream.
“Ne-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-g,” Keeler screamed.
A moment later, a massive incendiary burst filled the halls with flame. A fireball spread from deep in the interior, upward. The shockwave pushing ahead of it knocked all of them to the ground.
When the fireball had passed, Brigand climbed atop the rail and raised one arm in a gesture of defiance. “Aurelia triumphs!” he yelled. He turned to face Keeler one last time, smiled madly, then let himself fall into the core.
Keeler watched in horror as the flames raced up through the interior of the core. Within seconds, the whole of it was a wall of flames, consuming paper, plastic, wood, and liquid storage media alike. The flames cascaded upward, an inverted waterfall of oxidation.
Something up above them exploded, showering bits and pieces of metal and flaming debris.
“I think it’s time to go,” said Tyronius.
Keeler was unable to move, watching in horror as knowledge turned to ashes before him.
Something else exploded, larger this time, and the pieces of debris were heavier, including beams and supports. Keeler felt someone grabbing his arm. Gotobed. “Commander, we have to go,” she said.
Keeler looked out over the infernal tableau before him and let out a loud, agonized
“A-a-a-a-a-rrrrrrrrrrgh!”
He shook his head.
Keeler and the others ran for the side. All around them, the tower was in flames. Hundreds of meters below was an icy sea in which they could survive, perhaps, fifteen minutes, provided the fall didn’t kill them. In between was a long slope of rough metal, climbing down it would take them away from the fire, and buy them enough time for rescue by Aves. It seemed the best the course of action.
C h a p t e r T w e n t y - T h r e e
Queequeg’s Journal
By my estimation, the date is 05 November 10 202 A.S.
We are preparing to depart 10 004 Horologium IV (Winter), three crewmen less than when we arrived. The ship is safe, the crew is secure, and the planet is only a little worse off than when we got here; one dead guy, one torched library. We’ve done worse. Furthermore, most of what went wrong was not totally our fault.
Not totally our fault, but try impressing that on a captain who’s just watched five thousand years of human history immolated before his very eyes. He has been in the deepest funk I have ever known.
As my mother used to say, ‘There are things in life that are worse than furballs, but I would still rather not have furballs.’
Winter – Shipwreck
Morning dawned a rare cloudless day. For the first, last, and only time, Keeler saw the sky of Winter in its true color, a kind of blue-black, like a severe bruise. Near its peak was the sun, not a radiant plexus, but a cool white disk that might be mistaken for a moon.
“We should have known,” Keeler said, huddling under a blanket on the shore of Shipwreck Bay , nursing a thermos of hot cinnamon mauve tea, standing next to a fire with Ziang, Redfire, and Gilligan.
“The Aurelians knew about the library, and they destroyed it to keep us from its secrets.”
“And not only that,” Gilligan said, trying to comfort him. “Who knows how many secrets they stole before you got here.”
The ruins of the colony pod/secret library were still smoking. Three broken sides protruded from the harbor on burnt and shattered columns. The main part of it had collapsed into the sea about the time night fell. Keeler would have missed the show entirely, were it not for the searchlights of the four Aves that had been emergency-dispatched to answer Gotobed’s distress call. Some automechs and some sympathetically-linked and/oroids were picking through the intact sections, but had found nothing so far that had survived.
“Without their ship, they’ll have a tough time transmitting them to their base,” Commander Redfire said. “That’s something.”
Ziang looked at Keeler quizzically. “Unfortunate that nothing of value survived.”
“To say the least.”
Ziang scowled, the same way he had scowled before agreeing to show them the library. “How long have you been in space?” he asked, finally.
“Almost three years,” Keeler answered.
“And how far are you from your homeworld?”
“Five Hundred and Twenty Seven Light Years,” Keeler seemed to remember Alkema saying that.
“At that rate, it will take you something on the order of 340 years to reach Earth. Do you expect to live that long?”
“I wouldn’t want to live that long… no offense. Pegasus was designed to support a multi-generational mission.”
Ziang went on. “Needless to mention there are billions of stars between here and there, thousands of colonies and outposts. From what I understand, your ship has survived some of its encounters by luck alone. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“But all of which reduces your chances of surviving long enough to reach Earth.”
“If you are trying to make me feel better, you really aren’t very good at it.” Ziang reached into his robes and withdrew a small, oblong piece of heavy glass, gray and glossy like a polished stone teardrop. He passed it to Keeler. “What is it?” he asked.
“A key …”
“A key to what.”
“A set of coordinates…”
“Coordinates to what?”
“A shortcut.”
Keeler bit his lip. “You’re being deliberately cryptic, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So, what do I do with it?”
“Your cat can probably figure it out.”
“Okeedokee.” Keeler slipped the piece of glass in his pocket.
Alkema approached. He had come down the morning after, finally having gotten over his Independence flu. He wore a heavy parka, and was rosy cheeked in the frigid air. “Commander, one of the automechs retrieved thi
s. It was hidden in a crawlspace between levels.” It was a metal tube, a canister about a meter long and a few centimeters in diameter. It was scorched, but intact. Keeler twisted off the end cap and shook out a rolled sheet of what appeared to be paper laminated in plastic.
Alkema poked at it. “Nothing’s happening.”
Keeler lightly removed the map from the range of Alkema’s probing fingers. “It’s a static image… I’m guessing a map of some kind.”
Most of it was shades of blue, representing, presumably, bodies of water. On right side of the map, a large landmass stretched across ninety or more meridians of longitude. The southeast corner was marked several island archipelagos that stretched toward an island-continent away from the main landmass.
Another large landmass, with a massive bulge to the west and another to the south, a horny projection to the east, was jammed against the southwest corner of the larger continent. The northwest corner of the landmass was all peninsulas and tendrils, with a particularly crinkly and interesting one reaching toward the northern pole and one shaped like a boot sticking into a middle sea. On the other side of the map was a double landmass, connected by an isthmus. The southern continent, which was smaller, was shaped like a T-bone steak. The northern continent was large, with an interesting array of large lakes toward the center and a herd of large islands in the sea to the north.
Alkema scowled at it. “What a terrible projection. All the upper latitudes are distorted.” Keeler stared at the curious symbols that marked the map. They bore only a slight resemblance to the Sapphirean and Republic alphabets, but one could see that they were related. He traced a finger some of below them: N-O-R-T-H A-M-E-R-I-C-A.
“Any idea what we’re looking at?”
“I wish I did,” Keeler said, carefully rolling up the map.
“Maybe one of the Ancients could…”
“Uh, neg, I don’t think so,” Keeler said, replacing the map in the cylinder. “At this point, I would rather go on not knowing than ask one of those jerks anything. Is my ship here yet?”
“We can’t reach Flight Lieutenant Toto, but Captain Wang has a spot on Winnie.” Keeler sighed. “Za, I’m ready to blow this popsicle distribution point. Bring on the Wang.” Mercuria and Brigand, whatever their real names were, died at Shipwreck, leaving the universe not at all poorer. The third Aurelian, so I am told, gave us a mighty chase, but is currently a guest of the Ship’s Watch. They intend to pump her for information and, when they’re done, put her stasis and shoot her back to Republic. I have been asked to assist in the interrogation. I have six sides, five of them are pointy and the sixth is something most humans do not appreciate having waved in their face. I welcome the opportunity to fight the evil Aurelian horde.
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