ATLAS 3 (ATLAS Series Book 3)

by Isaac Hooke

  “Already, thousands of suns near the galactic core have swelled and gone nova prematurely, casting off their outer layers and leaving behind inert, white dwarfs. Stars that once had more than a billion years of fuel left. If we stop now, there is a chance the galaxy will heal itself. But if we do not, the endless cycle of death and rebirth all galaxies undergo will cease, and there will be no more life, not here. This galaxy, this great ‘Milky Way,’ will grow dark.”

  Lui frowned. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “It’s true,” Shaw said. “I’ve seen the evidence with my own eyes. Coreward, there are white dwarfs everywhere. Humanity isn’t the only civilization at stake here: the entire galaxy is at risk.”

  “Yeah well, I’d like to see the physics on that. Stars exhausting their fuel a billion years ahead of time? Ridiculous.”

  “Forget the physics for a second, damn it,” the Chief said, not looking from Azen. “What I want to know is: How do you plan on stopping them?”

  “War,” Azen said unequivocally, as if that one word answered everything.

  “War?”

  “Yes. Our own ship battles the enemy in orbit around the gas giant even now. We had hoped to catch them entirely at unawares while they harvested geronium from the moons, but our surface assault has forewarned them. Even so, surprise is on our side. Once we eliminate the two ships we will depart human space to continue the fight in our own region of the galaxy. We will collapse the Slipstream that leads to Tau Ceti, preventing any of our vessels from ever coming into your territory again.”

  “Your ships don’t need Gates to traverse Slipstreams?” Lui said incredulously.

  “That is correct.”

  “If that’s true, then how do we know more Skull Ships other than yours haven’t already come through the Slipstream to Tau Ceti?” Lui said. “We can’t detect them until they’re right above the worlds they’ve come to attack.”

  “Human vessels are unable to penetrate our stealth tech when active, yes, but we can do so. There are no other ships in this quadrant of the universe. I guarantee it. We have seven ships in total, including the one belonging to my faction. And when we are done here, only five will remain. The other four reside in different, farther quadrants of the galaxy, where they reap their fell harvest. When we return to our space, we will try to resolve this war diplomatically. If we fail, then we will fight. Either way, humanity will have no further part to play.”

  I had to shake my head. “Unless you lose the war.”

  “I concede the point,” Azen said. “However, since the Slipstream to this region will be collapsed, you will have the time it takes my species to travel eight thousand lightyears at standard speed to prepare yourselves.”

  “And how long is that?” I said.

  “Roughly seven hundred years.”

  “Your vessels travel faster than the speed of light?” Lui sounded doubtful.

  “In a way. Once our ships pass beyond the heliopause and into the lifeless void between star systems, we are able to successively ‘hop’ through interstellar space, creating temporary mini-Slipstreams that allow us to cover the distance to the next system in a far shorter time. The tech is similar in functionality to the Acceptor devices, though the maximum range of each hop is much more restrictive.”

  Acceptors. That was the name of those alien teleporters. Shaw had apparently used one during her escape to travel to a different star system, with Azen’s help.

  The Chief took a step forward. “Destroying Bogeys 1 and 2 is great, and my boys in Fleet would mightily appreciate it if you did that, but I have a question. I’m guessing a lot of Phants will survive the destruction, so what happens to them? We can’t have alien entities floating around in the system, possessing our machinery and disintegrating human beings at will.”

  “Unfortunately, that is entirely in your hands,” Azen said. “You will have to hunt them down and contain them. You will also have to destroy any remaining Acceptors, of course.”

  “Or rather, the SKs will,” Hijak added dryly.

  “We may share technology to assist in tracking down these aberrant Phants,” Azen said. “I will leave that up to the political observer assigned to humanity. I can promise no more than that.”

  “What are the SKs supposed to do once they catch them?” Hijak said. “Put them in a Phant prison?”

  “In a way, yes,” Azen said. “By injecting them into the core of gravity wells such as suns or gas giants, humanity can effectively trap them. The physical representations in this universe, anyway. Without access to geronium, after several decades they will eventually die.”

  “I don’t suppose you can leave behind a few of those golden mechs of yours before you go?” Lui said hopefully.

  “That won’t be possible, I’m afraid. We don’t want to stifle the technological innovation of your species, nor influence the natural course of your evolution.”

  Lui crossed his arms. “By invading us, you’ve already influenced the natural course of our evolution, I’d say.”

  “Even so, the answer is no. I’m sorry.”

  “I’d like to hear more about this faction of yours,” Snakeoil said.

  Azen took a step backward. “Please, no more questions at the moment. Rest here in the sanctuary we have provided. Recoup your strength. It will be some time before the city cools. Once it is safe we will proceed to the surface and find a suitable means to dispatch a message to your fleet.”

  “I’m sure, given your advanced tech, you could send a message for us right now,” Manic said.

  “It may be possible,” Azen agreed. “However, by doing so we broadcast our position to the enemy as well. It is better that they believe us neutralized, for now. Therefore, until the surface cools we must remain under a communications embargo. I will keep you apprised of the situation in orbit.”

  The mech that was Azen began to turn away.

  “Wait,” Chief Bourbonjack said.

  Azen paused.

  “We came here to fight,” the Chief said. “And if that means joining one group of Phants against the other, then so be it. Let us help, and I’ll put in a good word for you with the Brass. If I told them you were a good sort, Azen, someone we could trust, someone we had accompanied in battle, it would go a long way toward smoothing our relations. There’s something about fighting alongside an ally, alien or no, that triggers the human bonding mechanism. But of course you know all that, given everything you’ve learned about us. Just as you know it would make our governments much more amenable to accepting any political ‘observer.’”

  The glowing red eye line on Azen’s head seemed to appraise the Chief. “I’ll consider your offer.”

  With that, Azen and the other mechs withdrew into the interior, leaving us.

  “Wow,” Manic said. “That was mind-blowing. Dying stars. Expanding empires. Rogue alien factions. And here we are, precisely in the middle of it.”

  “Too bad it sounds like we’re not going to play any further part.” Lui didn’t seem too happy. “No offense, Chief. Those were some convincing words, but I don’t think the alien bought into it.”

  “Hey, you know what?” Manic said. “We played our part already. We risked our lives. We’ve done enough, if you ask me. Let the aliens fight amongst themselves. Let the best faction win.”

  “Way to be a MOTH,” Lui said. “You do know that if the wrong faction wins, humanity is doomed, right?”

  “Lui’s right,” I said. “If we can tip the balance of power in some small way toward Azen’s faction, then we can’t sit back and watch. We have to fight.”

  Manic gave me a mocking glance. “You sure you’re not just saying that because your girlfriend is here?”

  I clenched my fist. The guy certainly knew how to get under my skin.

  Sensing the aggression in the air, Shaw stepped in front of me and grabbed
my hand. “Come on, Rade. We need to talk. In private.”

  She led me away. I scowled at Manic: If he had said another word, I probably would have erupted. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut.

  I pulled ahead of Shaw and, choosing a random path, led the way into the cavern. Behind me, the others discussed and debated the latest turn of events—the focus seemed to be on whether or not we could trust this Azen. I felt the Chief’s eyes on me the whole time. He could have ordered me to stay but didn’t say a word.

  The voices of my brothers faded as Shaw and I moved deeper into the underground chamber. We eventually stopped in an isolated area behind a series of stalagmites.

  “So beautiful,” Shaw said quietly, staring up at the crystalline structures illuminated by our headlamps.

  “It is.” I wasn’t even looking at the stalagmites. I had eyes only for her. Sure, she was gaunt, pale, and had a few new wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but she was still ravishing, at least to me. And always would be.

  When she met my gaze, she seemed to realize I had been staring at her the whole time. I would have expected her to look away shyly or something, but instead she stared back defiantly.

  “I’m not going to have sex with you,” she said. “Not here.”

  I was the one who looked away. I sat down, and took off my gloves and helmet, setting them down beside me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But I couldn’t tell her that. We hadn’t seen each other in months. We couldn’t just jump right back in where we left off.

  Could we?

  “I don’t want to have sex with you,” I lied. “I’m too tired. Not to mention I’m a sweaty, grimy mess. I’m glad you took me away back there, though. We needed to get in some quality Rade and Shaw time. The two of us, we have some catching up to do.”

  “We do.” Shaw knelt beside me and removed her own helmet. She kept her gloves on, I noticed. She stared at the stalagmites. “I’m not even sure who you are anymore. Or who I am. It’s been so long.”

  “Too long.” I slid a loose strand of hair from her brow, combing it behind her ear. I wondered if I should kiss her.

  She gave me an annoyed look, like she didn’t want me touching her. She shifted sideways.

  I smiled sadly, dropping my hand. So much for kissing her. “You know, Shaw, I tried to move on. I really did. I told myself that every moment I spent dwelling in the past was a moment spent in agony. But I couldn’t forget you.”

  “Weren’t there other women?”

  I shook my head. “No. There was no one else.”

  And there never will be, I wanted to add, but didn’t dare.

  “You know I don’t believe in love, Rade,” Shaw said, apparently reading my thoughts.

  “I never said I believed in it.” I stared into her eyes. I could see the flecks of green around her blue irises, drawing me in.

  Shaw returned my gaze and the longing there was obvious. The desire. “Then what do you believe in?” Her voice sounded husky.

  I touched the back of my index finger to her cheek. “I believe in us.”

  Shaw shivered at my touch, closing her eyes. Then she forced my hand aside. She slid off her gloves. Meeting my hungry gaze, she said: “I tried to forget you, too.” The longing was gone from her voice, replaced by sadness. “I even succeeded for a little while. And it helped. Because I couldn’t let the past, and what I had lost, bring me down. Couldn’t let it send me spiraling into a depression I could never recover from. And so I forgot you, forgot everything. I became no more than an animal, fighting for survival on an alien world so far away from everything I’d ever known and loved. I knew that rescue would never come. But I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about anything. I turned off everything that made me human and relied instead on primal instincts to survive. It was the only way.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like,” I said.

  “Earlier you told me you were captured?” Shaw asked. “And interrogated by agents of the enemy? That’s not so different. The feelings of hopelessness and desperation, of being trapped, I’m sure they were much the same.” She must have seen the humiliation and guilt her words brought me, because the sadness ebbed from her features, replaced instead by concern. “Poor Rade. Maybe it was even worse than what I went through.” She rested a reassuring hand over mine.

  I felt a tingling there, where she touched me. An electricity passing between us. A want.

  She removed her hand all too soon.

  “No,” I said. “What I went through wasn’t worse. My ordeal lasted only a week. Yours lasted eight months.”

  She grinned wistfully and reached toward my forehead. I felt her rearranging my hair. When she finished, she leaned back to survey her handiwork and forced another smile. “There we go. All cleaned up. Just as good as taking a shower.”

  I shifted, and the rank smell of my own sweat drifted up to me from my jumpsuit. I had to chuckle. “If only combing my hair was the same thing as showering.” I was glad for the change in topic.

  She laughed softly. “We make quite the pair, don’t we, Rade? Personal grooming issues aside.”

  “What, you’re saying you haven’t showered in a while either? You smell pretty good to me.”

  She ignored the comment, extending her fingers to pick something from my scruffy beard.

  “How come you’re allowed to comb my hair and I can’t comb yours?” I said.

  She continued picking away. “I don’t have a beard.”

  I had to chortle at that. “I’m going to hire you as my battlefield grooming assistant. Everyone needs someone like you on hand during an operation.”

  Shaw giggled. “What, so you can keep your hairy face looking good for the enemy?”

  “Hey, it’s not just the enemy I have to worry about,” I said. “What about my platoon brothers?”

  Shaw’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Ooo of course. You all have to stay sexy for one another.”

  “Well obviously. Big muscular men like us? Why do you think we joined the Navy in the first place? Being surrounded by all those manly men, it’s such a turn-on.”

  She laughed, giving me a good-natured punch.

  It felt like old times there for a moment, but then Shaw sat back, becoming suddenly distant. She gazed into the darkness.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  She didn’t answer for a long moment. “It seems too good to be true. I almost can’t believe it’s real. I waited so long for this moment, and now that it’s here, I’m terrified. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been socially isolated for eight months. I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake and push you away.”

  I reached out, draped my arm assembly across her shoulder, and pulled her close. “You’ll never push me away.”

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t look at me.

  I gazed into the darkness, too, and then sighed. There was something I wanted to get off my chest. “You’re afraid you’ll push me away? It works both ways, you know.”

  Could I tell her the image that had suddenly come into my mind? No, it was for me alone. But she had to know. She deserved to.

  I swallowed. “I shot and killed a woman on the deployment before last. She was a privateer.”

  Shaw finally glanced at me, but now it was my turn to avoid her gaze.

  “I couldn’t fire, not at first. She reminded me too much of you. So I held back, letting the moments tick past while she shot at us. It almost cost Ghost his life.” I stared down at my hands. “I killed her, and by doing so, killed the memory of you. That’s when I truly gave up—that’s when I knew you were never coming back. And now you’re here.”

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “I didn’t mention this earlier, either, but we came across thousands of Sino-Korean prisoners aboard Bogey 2. We left them. All of them. We could have done something. S
hould have, in retrospect, but we abandoned them, choosing instead to continue with our objective. I rationalized it by telling myself that you, Shaw, had made a sacrifice for humanity, so these people could, too. But you were alive the whole time. The rationalization I used was false. And those people are still going to die. It hurts, knowing that.”

  I opened my eyes, at last looking at her. “I’ve made so many mistakes since you were gone, Shaw. So damn many. And I exploited your loss as a justification for those mistakes. Even when I was tortured by the enemy, I used you as an excuse for my weakness. You were gone. My squad was gone. I had nothing left. I gave up. I disclosed the password to my embedded ID. After a week. I’m so ashamed. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been broken, and I don’t think I’ll ever be made whole again. So I’ll understand if you don’t want me anymore.”

  “I’ll always want you,” she said, smiling wanly. “These so-called mistakes? You made the right choice every time. You had to kill the woman privateer to save your squad mates. As for the prisoners on the Skull Ship, you didn’t know the mission was going to go south at the time. You did the best you could have under the circumstances. You can’t save everyone, Rade. You know that by now. And you say you gave the enemy your embedded ID password? You were tortured, Rade. Tortured. No one can hold out against SK interrogation methods. No one. If anything you should have given in earlier. You lasted a whole week. I’m so proud of you. Proud of everything you’ve done. You didn’t exploit my memory. You made the right choices. You always do. Always will.”

  We huddled there, staring into the murky cave, basking in each other’s company. I basked, at least. Was she right about me? Had I made the best choices? I didn’t know. But I was certainly glad that she accepted me for who I was.

  “I told you that I shoved all memories of you, of us, aside when I was trapped on that planet,” Shaw said suddenly. “That I let the animal within me roam free. But what I didn’t tell you was, well, I dismissed you only during the day. The night . . . it was always yours. That was your time. Thinking about you in those dark nights kept me going, Rade. And I promised myself as I lay awake beneath those alien stars that you and I would be reunited, someday, and I’d see Earth again. Well I’ve finally achieved the former, at least. Though I never really thought it would happen. Sure, I dreamed that we’d be united, but it was always a distant dream, so far away, a yearning that I knew would remain unfulfilled.” Sighing contentedly, she rested her head on the shoulder assembly of my jumpsuit.