Destra shivered at the thought, even though she was once again cozy and warm inside her vac suit. Reaching into her pocket, she parted the magnetic seal and withdrew the ancient pendant. The worn and beaten Star of Etherus glinted at her, and she wondered if that symbol really meant anything, or if it was just a meaningless token from a more primitive race of humans. It was a stretch of her imagination to believe in something she couldn’t see, but she was just desperate enough to try.
If you’re out there, whoever you are, we could really use some help.
* * *
Commander Lenon Donali lay strapped down on a table where his human captors had subjected him to all manner of torture and probes in order to find out what he knew about the Sythians. Unable to resist their mental probes and their drugs, he’d told them everything they wanted to know. Now, after sleeping for what felt like an eternity, the effects of the drugs were wearing off and awareness was seeping back into his mind. Feeling prickled through his previously numb extremities.
He lay in darkness. The air was cold and still. Donali frowned at that. Climate controls should have been cycling with an endless whooshing of air, refreshing and renewing the oxygen constantly, but he couldn’t hear them, just as he couldn’t see so much as a single lumen of light. Gone were the human medics, interrogators, and corpsmen alike. He was alone and abandoned. Maybe this was some new type of interrogation technique. He’d already told the humans everything he knew, and even some things he didn’t know that he knew, but maybe they weren’t convinced.
Or maybe the ship he was on had run into trouble. Maybe the reason he was alone and in the dark was because everyone else had already evacuated. If that were the case, he was going to suffocate. Suddenly Donali became aware of every breath, as if each one might be his last.
He tested his restraints, trying to kick his feet or raise his arms, but the tough bands of fabric refused to yield.
“Hello?” he tried, croaking softly. No one was going to hear that. “Help! Is anyone there?” he screamed.
The sound was swallowed in darkness without so much as a whisper of reply. Desperate, he tried something else. He tried making mental contact with his Sythian master, High Lord Kaon. The humans had found a way to block his communications, but if their ship had been damaged beyond repair, perhaps that interference had been lifted.
Donali shut his eyes and set his mind adrift in a vast, star-filled void. He raced through it, using thoughts of his handler, Kaon, to guide the visualization. He wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t find Kaon, but he was surprised to find a whole web of Sythians, full of bright, glowing red points of awareness. He focused on the brightest point he could see, skipping by the outer rings of subordinates, straight to the top.
To his unending surprise, his call was answered.
Who is this who dares to contact me?
Donali identified himself as a human Sythian agent. A slave.
They are all dead. The Avilonians killed them.
And yet I am alive, My Lord, he replied.
Where are you? Never mind I can see for myself . . . You are here? In the Gettiesss? How did you get here?
Donali couldn’t answer that. He was equally surprised to learn that he was in the Getties Cluster.
It does not matter. I shall send a fleet to pick you up.
Donali felt relief wash over him. Thank you, My Lord.
I am not a lord.
Then who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?
With Shallah, the Supreme One.
Donali gasped. I apologize for the intrusion, Supreme One! I did not know.
Yesss . . . we shall discuss how you can repay me for saving your miserable life when we meet.
When we meet? Donali’s heart thudded in his chest. Very few had had the honor of meeting Shallah. Did that mean he was about to be rewarded for his service? Perhaps he would become a lord and be given a fleet of his own to command. I am not worthy . . . my master.
No, you are not, but I want to know why the Avilonians spare you, of all people. Perhaps it is because now you intend to betray us just as you betray the humans.
No! I am loyal to the Coalition, My Master!
We shall see about that. Hopefully the truth does not cost you too much pain. I would hate to have to kill you after saving your life.
Supreme One! I—
The connection ended abruptly and Donali was left breathless and gasping for air; even though he was certain his air could not have run out already . . .
Chapter 37
One month later . . .
In a very un-Avilonian fashion Atton pushed and shoved his way through the crowd of Etherians waiting to greet their loved ones in the Hall of Eternity. His ARC display highlighted his family for him with glowing green silhouettes. Moments later, he found Hoff and Atta kneeling on the invisible deck, clustered around his mother.
Rushing to their side, he knelt down with them. His mother was awake, but very pale. Her eyes flicked to him as he arrived, and they filled with a fresh sheen of tears. She smiled and reached for his hand.
“You’re alive,” she said.
He nodded and smiled back. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she replied.
Atton turned to Hoff for an explanation. “What happened?”
“She tripped and bumped her head,” was all he said. There was a troubled look in his gray eyes that went beyond a simple bump on the head, but a small voice in the back of Atton’s mind told him now wasn’t the right time to ask. He looked up to find his half sister, Atta, staring at him in girlish delight.
“Did you get me something?”
“I’m sorry?” Atton asked, blinking and shaking his head.
“You said you would. Something pretty. Remember?”
He vaguely recalled the last time they’d all seen one another, on the flight deck of the Valiant. He’d been saying goodbye just before boarding the Intrepid on a mission to find Avilon. He did recall something about having given in to Atta’s demand that he bring her something pretty.
That seemed like a lifetime ago.
He smiled and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Atta. I forgot.”
“That okay,” she replied, grinning at him. Suddenly she launched herself over their mother and gave him a big hug. As she withdrew from that hug, she said, “You’re a lot prettier than I remember, so I guess that counts.”
Atton snorted and shook his head. “You’re going to love it here, Atta,” he said.
“Yeah? What’s so great about it?”
“Well . . .” He looked around, gesturing helplessly to the view. Then he had a sudden thought. “For one thing, you’re speaking a new language that you didn’t have to learn. Did you realize that?”
Atta’s jaw slowly dropped and she regarded him with wide blue eyes. “You’re right! Wow!”
“You won’t have to study anything ever again. From now on you’ll learn in your sleep.”
“You’re right! I do love it here!” she said.
Atton noticed Destra smiling up at both of them. Then her eyes flicked to Hoff. “The war is really over?” she asked.
Hoff nodded slowly, smiling back at her. Again Atton noticed the disquiet lurking in Hoff’s eyes, and again, Omnius whispered for him to keep that observation to himself.
“We should go,” Hoff said, offering a hand to his wife to help her up. She accepted that and he yanked her easily to her feet. “It’s time for you both to see your new home.”
Atton grinned at them, overjoyed to see his entire family all together in one place again. All of them except for one—Ethan.
With the memory of his biological father, Atton’s own thoughts took a troubled turn. As the happy sounds of people laughing and crying for joy died away and the reunion in the clouds came to a close, Omnius spoke to the newcomers, welcoming them all to Avilon, and explaining anything they might not already know about their new home.
After that, the hovering golden domes of the quantum junctions
that had brought the resurrected masses to the Hall of Eternity all came hovering down around them in an enormous circle. People began filing off in all directions, jumping away with their relatives to their new homes in Etheria. None of them needed to go through The Choosing. They had already been resurrected in their immortal bodies. If they later decided they didn’t like it in Etheria, they could always choose to go to the Null Zone.
Like them, Atton had been resurrected in the body of an immortal clone, but unlike them, he had chosen this, and he knew exactly what that meant. It meant being separated from the people he loved who had chosen life in the Null Zone.
Here in Etheria he had his mother, his half sister, and his stepfather, Hoff. Down in the Null Zone were his father, his stepmother, Alara, and his other half sister, who had yet to be born.
Also in the Null Zone was Ceyla, his first and only girlfriend—if he could even call her that.
Like a heartless fool, he had left her so that he could join the Peacekeepers and continue the fight against the Sythians.
Now that the drones were going to be the ones fighting the Sythians, what did that leave? A civilian career? Fighting crime on the city streets? None of those options seemed like a fair trade for the life he could have had with Ceyla.
I warned you not to allow yourself to be motivated by revenge, Omnius whispered.
You warned me not to join the Peacekeepers because of revenge! You didn’t warn me not to become an Etherian.
Why would I do that? So that you could remain a mortal and go live and die in a place full of misery and suffering?
No, so that I can be with the people that I love!
The people that you love are also here, in Etheria, Atton. What about your mother? Your stepfather? Little Atta? You won’t ever be able to see any of them again if you become a Null.
Because you force people to choose! And then you segregate them with impenetrable shields! You’ve cut my family in half, Omnius. And you say you love us? I say you’re a liar.
Careful, Atton. You cannot blame me for your choices. Nor can you blame me for the consequences of other people’s choices. You divide yourselves. If everyone would simply agree to live together in harmony, The Choosing would not be necessary.
If you are so unhappy with your choice, then go, join the Nulls. You will even get to keep your new body, although I must warn you, it will make you a target. Some people will say you are an abomination and try to kill you. And I will not be able to protect you from them.
Atton shook his head as he shuffled toward the nearest junction with his family. His mother grabbed his hand and squeezed it, sending him a beautiful smile. He smiled back, but his expression lacked the joy and warmth he saw shining in her eyes.
He’d already made his choice, and both his father and Ceyla had warned him not to try to undo it by joining them in the Null Zone with his new, immortal body. They were convinced he wouldn’t really be Atton anymore, that he would just be a clever copy that looked and sounded like him.
Atton grimaced and blinked tears from his eyes. You really frekked me over, Omnius.
There’s no need to curse at me, Atton. I’m going to let you in on a little secret—sooner or later, almost everyone comes to Etheria.
Atton blinked. Then how is there anyone left down there?
Because a very large number of the Imperials I resurrected after the invasion took umbrage with me and my rules for paradise, and they subsequently left Etheria. A small cult of religious extremists grew from their number. They are the only ones who will actually die for their cause, but it is because they believe they will live again, on some other plane of existence that they have never seen. They say the real Etheria is yet to come, but we know better, don’t we Atton? Their religion came from rumors of Avilon, so of course there is no such thing as a life after this one.
Atton felt a pang of despair radiate through him. That means Ceyla won’t change her mind. She’s one of the ones who believes that, Atton replied.
Sadly, that is true, but your father and his family will eventually join us. I have foreseen it.
So my entire family will be up here, and the woman I love will be down there.
Love, the kind you have found with Ceyla, could be easily found again, Atton, with someone else, someone who isn’t determined to die.
I could join her. Live my life with her until she dies, and then come back to Etheria.
You’re trying to have everything, Atton. It doesn’t work that way. If you join them, you risk dying a real and lasting death. I already told you your immortal body will make you a target, and if you die as a Null, you will be dead forever. Is that an acceptable risk to you?
To be with Ceyla? Yes.
She won’t take you back. Not now. She doesn’t even believe it’s possible for you to still be the Atton she fell in love with. And just as you don’t want to be separated from her in this life, she doesn’t want to be separated from you in the next. There is no way to remedy that.
Maybe not as Atton, but I can make her fall in love with me again, as someone else. Someone she doesn’t recognize. If I can prove to her I’m the same person, she’ll change her mind. I might even change her mind about joining me in Etheria. If you can transfer me to a clone that looks like me, then you can transfer me to a body that looks like someone else.
You’re asking me to go to a lot of trouble to help you do something I do not agree with.
But you love me, so you will help me.
If I love you, I will try to save you from yourself.
But not at the expense of my happiness!
Your current un-happiness is temporary.
Omnius, I’ll do anything you ask. Just please, help me. Help me prove to Ceyla that I haven’t changed, that I’m still me.
You’d do anything, Atton? Are you sure?
Atton nodded. Anything. He could swear he felt Omnius’s disappointment ripple through him, but he ignored that fresh surge of anxiety and despair, and called an image of Ceyla’s face to mind to strengthen his resolve.
So be it, Omnius replied.
Atton smiled, and he looked up. He realized that at some point he’d stopped walking to gaze down with unseeing eyes on the clouds racing beneath his feet. Now as he noticed his surroundings again, he saw that his family had stopped with him. They were all watching him quietly, concern etched on their faces.
“Are you all right?” his mother asked, looking like she wanted to leap out and hug him.
Atton managed a croaking whisper that even he could barely hear over the steady thunder of Etherian footsteps echoing through the Hall of Eternity. “I’m fine.” He wiped his tears away with the backs of his hands. “Never better,” he went on, grinning at them. “I’m just happy to see you all again.”
* * *
A month is an eternity when you’re fighting for your life. It’s exactly the amount of time it takes for stubborn hope to turn into utter despair.
Destra couldn’t feel her face. She’d long since stopped using her vac suit’s heater. She was saving the last five percent of her power supply to replace Atta’s when hers ran out. Right now her daughter lay sleeping, blissfully unaware.
A rustle of movement drew Destra’s attention, but she couldn’t see who had moved. Without their glow lamps turned on, darkness was absolute on Noctune. And they needed to save their lamps for emergencies.
The Black Rictans had military grade power cores in their Zephyr light assault mechs, but they were down to less than 10% charge. They’d made their power last by not moving around too much and by keeping their heaters turned down low.
The Gors were doing what they could to help—sharing food and animal hides from their hunts. It was enough to keep them from starving to death. Lining their shelter with hides helped raise the temperature by a few extra degrees, but with every day that passed, Destra felt the cold creeping a little closer to her heart.
Destra felt a draft around her neck, and she tightened her makeshift scarf�
��a strip of animal hide that she’d wrapped around the seam between her suit and her helmet. The seam was just a finger-width gap to let in fresh air, but it felt like a collar of ice around her neck.
The Gors were baffled by human frailty. Torv made occasional visits, updating her on the progress of his search for survivors. He remained convinced that there were crechelings still alive on Noctune somewhere in the depths of the planet’s icy warrens. Destra had given him her handheld scanner since day one, showing him how to use it and wishing him the best of luck in his search.
So far all he’d found were bodies. Frozen Gor corpses littered the deeper sections of their tunnels. Destra hadn’t seen the bodies with her own eyes, but she believed it. The Sythians were ruthless and thorough. They’d hunted humanity to extinction. Now they’d added the Gors to their hit list.
Hides flapped, drawing Destra’s attention to the entrance of the shelter and startling her out of her thoughts. A familiar hiss followed, and Destra knew what the Gor had said even without the translator in her ear.
The Gors had returned from the hunt.
Destra heard the sound of armored hands and knees scraping on ice as one of the sentinels began scuttling out on all fours. It was Sergeant Cavanaugh’s turn to go out and cook the meat. He would use the cutting beam strapped to his back to melt a pool of water, and then he’d drop chunks of raw meat inside and boil the water.
It was the same thing every day. Boiled meat. They’d tried a direct application of the beam, hoping for something that tasted grilled, but even on the beam’s lowest setting, the result was pure charcoal.
Destra leaned over and turned on her glow lamp.
Cavanaugh cursed and flinched away from the sudden brightness. None of their eyes were accustomed to light anymore.
“Shut it off! I can feel my way out just fine.”
“Sergeant,” Destra croaked. Her throat was scratchy and dry with thirst. They needed to save the charge on their cutting beams.
Dark Space: Avilon Page 45