Echo Rift

by G. S. Jennsen

“Must I? If you are in fact all-powerful, why haven’t you protected us from Concord’s vicious attacks?”

  Your people provoked Concord into war, and you continue to misapprehend their intentions now. The blame does not fall on you personally, Ghorek, for your voice was not the one giving the orders that ignited this war. But the deaths still to come will fall at your feet if you do not end the conflict now.

  “End it? Concord wants to annihilate us. I will do what is required to make them pay for their transgressions.” He’d received a message from Concord Command the day before expressing regret for the most recent attack and blaming it on ‘rogue elements,’ but he’d deleted the message without replying. His people were dead by the hundreds of thousands, and the time for empty excuses was long past.

  Do not. This is your last opportunity to save your people, and time grows short. Stand down. Make peace. Your future depends upon it.

  Feeling emboldened, Ghorek thrust a hand into the ethereal shape. His skin felt nothing—no resistance, no tangibility. This being wasn’t Savrakath; it wasn’t even real. He took a step back and snarled. “Peace? How can there be peace when all around me there is only death? Begone, spirit, and leave me to my mission.”

  The shape quavered for a moment, then lost definition and faded away on a closing breeze.

  Ghorek breathed out through clenched teeth. Had he just intimidated a god into submission? No, he assured himself. Whatever remnant or spirit had visited him, it was no god. The old gods were dead.

  His communicator burst to life in his ear, shattering the eerie spell the being had left behind. “Sir, the tactical squad has returned from their mission.”

  He pivoted, eager to leave the jungle and its spirits behind. “I’ll be right there.”

  The foul creature lying prone on the cot in the medical tent began to stir awake. It was a gangly looking alien, with coarse fur the color of molasses covering a skinny frame and long limbs. A pitiful excuse for carnassials poked out of a muzzled mouth, and two triangular ears jutted out of the top of its small head.

  Concord included in its ranks many species of aliens, and for the most part Ghorek had never bothered to distinguish one from the other. This was one of the furry variations, obviously.

  The tactical squad had returned an hour earlier, Concord merchant vessel in tow. As ordered, they had spaced the vessel’s crew, save one member. The leader of the tactical squad and the captain of the warship both insisted that they had not been detected. After some translation issues, the squad’s technical officer had managed to fly the alien vessel back to Savrak without crashing it into any planets or other celestial bodies.

  The alien’s teardrop-shaped eyes fluttered open to reveal golden panthera irises. The next second it tried to leap into action, only to find itself restrained quite securely. It let out a guttural snarl as it tugged ineffectually at the restraints securing its wrists, ankles and torso.

  Ghorek leaned in closer to the alien, answering the snarl with a hiss. “What is your name and species?”

  The alien frothed at the mouth, shooting saliva outward to land on Ghorek’s collar. He grabbed the alien by the throat and bared his teeth. “Answer me, or die now.”

  A thin tongue darted out, but the alien sagged in Ghorek’s grasp. He loosed his grip on the alien’s neck. “Yes?”

  “Hohlaak Ponla-min, of the mighty race of Barisans.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Hohlaak Ponla-min. We have placed a bomb in the lining of your stomach. It is linked to a detonator I control. Unless you do exactly as I instruct, I will detonate it without hesitation, and you will die in a messy and unpleasant manner. Do you understand what I have told you?”

  The alien’s pupils dilated, and it nodded weakly.

  “Good. Here are your instructions: you are going to fly your vessel to Concord Headquarters. One of my men will accompany you to ensure you reach your destination and do not attempt to flee. Once there, you will do everything necessary to see to it that a specific cargo container in your hold reaches the innermost region of the station, where its power is generated, without detection by Concord authorities. You will then take your vessel and depart, returning here to this location. Once you land, we will deactivate the bomb inside of you, free you and allow you to go on your way.”

  It was a lie, of course—the last part of it, anyway. There was a bomb in the alien’s stomach, but the alien would never leave Concord Headquarters. Like all sentient beings, however, belief in a chance of salvation at the other end of this trial was what would drive the alien to follow Ghorek’s orders and execute on the mission.

  “Do you understand these instructions?”

  The alien glared at Ghorek, a hatred shining in its eyes that transcended species. “I understand. I have your word that you’ll remove the bomb and set me free if I do as you ask?”

  “On my honor as a Savrakath military officer.”

  “And how much honor is that?”

  Ghorek bristled. “Honor enough for your purposes.”

  Dr. Khalik had insisted on setting up a fully functioning lab in the far west corner of the site—or as close as they were able to conjure to one. An impermeable force field surrounded the lab, its sole purpose keeping out microbes and other contaminants. Ghorek was forced to don a clean suit before entering, which seemed far too much pomp and protocol for a single improvised explosive. But he complied, because without Khalik’s work, his plan could not succeed.

  Inside the lab tent, the missile casings now sat empty. Their contents had been temporarily transferred to a sterile box and the box enveloped in another force field. In the center of the tent, a two-meter-high, circular container with a flat top and bottom sat open. The ceramic composite material gleamed faintly from a new coat of polish, and a glass lid hung from the ceiling above it.

  Khalik busied about at a long table stretching nearly the length of the tent, while two assistants scurried in his wake, adjusting settings on portable control panels and double-checking one another’s work.

  Ghorek finally grew tired of waiting to be noticed and let out a snarl. “Dr. Khalik! We have acquired our delivery mechanism and are ready to proceed. How long until the bomb will be complete?”

  “Ah…” Khalik glanced distractedly over his shoulder, displaying far too little respect for Ghorek’s authority “…another twelve hours. Perhaps fourteen.”

  He’d known two days to finish the project was unrealistic from the start, but impossible deadlines kept people working to the limits of their ability and stamina. Nonetheless, he had to refrain from stepping outside and peering up into the sky above in search of the encroaching shadows of Concord warships. The false god was right about one thing: time was surely growing short for them.

  “Work faster. I will not ask again.”

  46

  * * *

  SOGAIN STELLAR SYSTEM

  Gennisi Galaxy

  The orbital platform spun so rapidly its features blurred away as it sent a barrage of ultra-high-density graviton orbs shooting scattershot into the star on every revolution. Though preparations for this eventuality had begun weeks earlier, urgency now gave purpose to the platform’s operation.

  The Rasu would be arriving soon.

  Watching the endless revolutions of the platform had lulled me into a mild trance, but my awareness stirred as Lakhes swept in from the ether beyond to join me in my observation of the coming gambit.

  “Mnemosyne.”

  I drew myself into a proper presentation and redirected the bulk of my attention away from the platform and toward Lakhes. “How goes it on Savrak?”

  “Ill. I fear there remain no sane Savrakaths with whom to entreaty. It may well be time to admit failure and end the experiment before they wreck something truly essential.”

  “The experiment ended fourteen years ago, Lakhes. Savrak is no longer tucked away in an isolated enisle in a secure universe where we can tinker with its inhabitants at our leisure. It exists out in the world now.” />
  “All the more reason to end it. The Savrakaths are our responsibility, and we cannot allow them to damage Concord in any meaningful way. Not now of all times, when so much depends on Concord’s strength.”

  “Miriam Solovy will not allow you to eradicate the Savrakaths.”

  “Miriam Solovy is not my superior.” Lakhes paused. “Still, there might be another way. A way to protect Concord as well as preserve the Savrakaths as a species. I am investigating the matter. Now to you: how goes it in the Dominion?”

  I cast my perception out toward the fringes of the stellar system. The enemy shouldn’t be long now. “The Asterions have shaken off the blow they suffered at Namino and are, I daresay, rising to the occasion once more. As we speak, they are spinning out new modifications and uses for the Rift Bubble technology.”

  “They understand how it works?”

  “Alex showed Nika how to delve the programming of the Rift Bubble we delivered to Namino.”

  Lakhes drew into itself in surprise. “You didn’t stop her?”

  “I voiced minor consternation, as I would be expected to do so, but I allowed it.”

  “Isn’t it too soon?”

  “The Asterions need to be able to defend themselves, and it is deeply important to them to do so on their own terms rather than depend upon others for protection. If they can invent yet better uses of the dimensional rifts than we have deployed, we should not stand in their way. Besides, time and again, Alex has been the one to push everyone—us, the Humans, the anarchs, now the Asterions—forward into their next evolution. I have learned to trust her judgment on these matters.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s a risky proposition to do so.”

  The platform’s energetic work faded into the periphery of my awareness as I focused sharply on Lakhes. “Everything we have done from the start of this endeavor has been risky. Is the goal not worth any risk?”

  “It is, of course. I only…how have you lived with such burdensome knowledge all these millennia?”

  “Stoically.”

  Lakhes rippled in amusement. “It must have been terribly lonely for you.”

  “All of our work is lonely. You, perhaps more than any of us, appreciate this.”

  “Yes, but that is not what I meant.”

  “I know it isn’t. Thank you for your concern, but the past no longer matters. Only the future.” A warning tickled at the fringes of my perception. “They approach.”

  The shadow of a Rasu scouting party broke across the spilling light of the star as the vessels accelerated directly toward the platform. Since being forcibly removed from Namino, the Rasu had been systematically investigating and, where allowed to do so, dismantling every settlement of sentient life they had uncovered in the Dominion’s databanks. In a small stroke of luck, solely the most basic of information about Concord had been memorialized in the servers at Namino Tower and DAF Command. For now, its location remained secret, if not its existence. But every Axis and Adjunct World, every asteroid and moon worthy of mining, had now received visits from the Rasu. Today, it was our turn.

  And today, the Rasu were in for a rude surprise.

  The nearby ether gained greater substance as Tyche manifested beside them. “I have completed my work.”

  Lakhes greeted their new arrival. “Is there time?”

  “Yes. In fact, the chain reaction has already begun. If the Rasu had arrived a few hours later, they would have found nothing but an expanding supernova remnant.”

  “Come then. Let us retreat to a safer distance, where we will observe our efforts to wreak what havoc upon them as we can.”

  We regathered another five hundred megameters distant from the star, though shortly even here would no longer be safe. The platform spun faster and faster now, emptying itself of everything it could produce in its final minutes.

  When the first Rasu laser tore into the platform’s structure, it put up no fight. The metal comprising it was strong, but the structure was built to withstand the vagaries of its stellar companion, not an attack by offensive weapons. Without a solid outer hull, the onslaught quickly destroyed the platform’s intricate inner workings, and its barrage of the star ceased. The tremendous cosmic energies generated by the engine at the platform’s core exploded outward in a blast that cascaded across over a dozen dimensions.

  The two closest Rasu vessels were disintegrated by the combustion, and the cascading force of it sent a third careening off toward the star.

  Whether cowed into caution by the blast or obsessed with destroying any pieces of technology that remained and collecting them for study, the surviving vessels appeared to take no notice of the increasingly dangerous agitations of the system’s star in the minutes that followed.

  “It is time to go, Mesme.”

  “You go. I will follow.”

  I sensed Lakhes’ hesitation, but after a microsecond both Lakhes and Tyche dissipated, and I was again alone.

  Still I lingered until the last possible moment, when the supernova ignited and the shockwave swallowed every Rasu in the system beneath its swelling wave. An avalanche of cosmic forces pressed upon me—another second and I would be ripped apart—and I vanished.

  47

  * * *

  CONCORD HQ

  CINT

  Richard greeted Mia with a great deal more warmth than at their last meeting. “Ms. Requelme, thank you for coming today.”

  She gave him a reserved smile, as a brighter one seemed in poor taste given the setting. “I won’t say it’s my pleasure, but I am grateful to you for arranging this opportunity for me.”

  “I’m relieved to be able to bring these difficulties to a favorable conclusion.” He gestured toward the conference table, where a man and a woman, each stern and dour in their own way, sat wearing tailored suits and stiff bearings. “This is Concord Justice General Absolohl Perralle and AEGIS Judge Barush Sarna. They’ll be overseeing the proceeding today.”

  Richard had clearly gone to fairly significant lengths to ensure the ‘proceeding’ was as informal, private and painless as possible, and she made a note to thank him personally later, once the documentation was signed and the judges were gone.

  She nodded politely to both officials and took a seat opposite them at the table. She wore an appropriately severe black pantsuit with a pearl necklace, and her Caeles Prism was tucked discreetly away beneath her white silk blouse. Though she’d reclaimed her name by coming here today, she was keeping the hair for now; it made her feel…free, somehow. And once this proceeding concluded, she would be free, albeit with a few weighty strings attached. As for her eyes, well…one decision at a time.

  The Justice General opened an aural and slid it across the table until it rested in front of her. “Ms. Requelme, please review your confession and inform us of any inaccuracies or corrections you wish to make.”

  She forced herself to read it from beginning to end, and in doing so, to acknowledge and internalize what she’d done. The mistakes she’d made. Funny, they still felt like the right mistakes, given the circumstances. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask her if she felt any remorse for her actions, because she’d have no idea how to answer.

  “This is correct.”

  The Justice General’s grim countenance didn’t soften. “Then if you will affix your signature to it, we can move on to the pronouncement of sentencing.”

  She drew in a deep breath and complied. Informal and private, perhaps, but not completely painless.

  “Judge Sarna will now announce your sentence.”

  Mia lifted her chin—not proudly but rather solemnly—as the sentence was read. It contained no surprises. She’d pay the fine before she left HQ, and this morning she’d made arrangements to begin her community service time working with the Godjan refugees. The lifetime ban on government positions…it was what it was. No going back.

  “Failure to comply with the requirements of your sentence will result in additional fines as well as imprisonment. Do you understand your obliga
tions?”

  “I do.”

  The Justice General closed all the files with a swipe of his hand. “This concludes our proceeding today.” He stood and extended a hand across the table. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Startled, she hurriedly accepted his hand and shook it, then did the same for Judge Sarna.

  Richard saw them out; once the door had closed, he turned to her with a full-bodied sigh. “I don’t imagine that was pleasant for you, but at least it’s done. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  He brought her a cup and sat back down at the conference table. “How are you doing?”

  “Better now. Thank you for making that as painless as possible. After the way I behaved at our last meeting, you didn’t have to be charitable to me. I would have understood.”

  “It seemed the least I could do under the circumstances. You’ve, um, seen Malcolm?”

  She cleared a sudden lump in her throat. “Once. We have some issues to work out.”

  He merely nodded like some wise elder sage, and she couldn’t help but frown. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “He came to see me the other day. He didn’t share any details of your situation, of course. He wanted to talk about a personal matter. But I gathered from what wasn’t said…. Anyway, it’s none of my business. But I do wish you both well. The Savrakaths wreaked a lot of destruction with their thoughtless actions, but none so unfortunate as what they did to the two of you.”

  “You’re not wrong.” A pang of sorrow echoed through her chest, and she breathed in deliberately until it faded to the background. Then she reached into the bag she’d set on the floor, retrieved a tiny quantum cube and slid it over to him. “This is for you.”

  “What’s on it?”

  “Aiden Trieneri had a son he kept secret. I assume Olivia Montegreu didn’t know about him, or else she’d have killed him not long after she killed his father. The boy was only around nine years old at the time of his father’s death. Now, he goes by the name Enzio Vilane. His public business is as a real estate mogul on Pandora and, to a lesser extent, several other colonies, where he owns dozens of apartment complexes and retail and restaurant space. Behind the scenes, however, he’s building a new criminal organization, informally known as the Rivinchi cartel.