Mik rubbed his jaw as he considered her theory. “That makes a lot of sense. Their portals, where their ships came through, weren’t ideally placed. They were too far out from Lodias. It gave us enough time to marshal our forces and respond. If they could open a gateway inside The City itself, why not just open their main one right above the dome and wipe us out before we could react?”
“Exactly. In the aftermath, as I studied their attack, it looked like a tactical error. But maybe they genuinely can’t open gateways in distant stellar systems with any real accuracy. When he returns from his search for Grey Wolf, I’m going to ask Apollo to look at the quantum signature from that portal that opened inside the dome to see if he recognizes anything that would positively link it to Faraway.”
Mik nodded, then pulled a flex screen from his jacket and called up the file on his new fleet deployment plan. He uploaded it to her. “Even with the new ships, we don’t have enough vessels to form a unified protective screen around Skyra,” he said. “So what I’m doing is, forming rapid-response packs stationed at different altitudes in orbit, with one patrol in a random sweep. If a portal opens in space, we’ll be able to converge on it with at least three ships.
“If we have time to get more ships launched, I’ll add patrol stations farther out. I’ve also moved two unmanned weapons platforms into polar orbit around Lodias. Then, of course, we have the two godships, but they don’t report to me. They bring lots of firepower, but integrating them into the unified defense fleet is in the hands of the gods.”
She closed her eyes, and Mik guessed she was submerging herself in the information streams once more. “Yes, this deployment looks solid. Thank you, Mik. I’ll coordinate these patrols with the ground-based defensive weapons around the dome so they can work in concert when the time comes.” She reopened her eyes and focused on him. “You’re becoming the leader we need, Mik. It’s a heavy burden, but when times get tough, the people look to those who can get things done—especially with the loss of so many gods.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a series of problems to fix. Some stranger than others, I admit,” he said, and his voice sounded firm in his own ears, but he shifted his weight from side to side as he watched her. She was drifting away again, in that way that left him feeling helpless. The thought of losing her flashed across his mind, and he recoiled at the idea. It was intolerable. Unacceptable.
He bent down and kissed her passionately. Her eyes snapped into focus at the sudden contact, but she relaxed and returned his kiss.
When he pulled away he placed his hand against her cheek. “I do all this so that someday we can walk through the grass of the new world together,” he said. “I’ll rip you out of these cables myself and carry you if that’s what it takes to get you there.”
She smiled at his words, but it was a sad smile. “You worry too much,” she said. “But I like your dreams. The new world. Now that’s a vision worth living for.”
Chapter 21
The Wolf Snarls
It was just as Apollo had suspected. The moment his emissary probe entered the Wandering World’s sector of space, a barrage of missiles and energy beams converged upon it.
The simple craft was there one moment, and the next it was merely a barely detectible cloud of metallic dust.
The probe, had, however, managed to relay some sensor data and release a short comm burst toward the rocky sphere that was his target.
The Wandering World.
Grey Wolf’s redoubt had been given its grandiose name even before departing from The City on its endless quest. The Wandering World, however, was not some free-drifting planet, as its name implied, but rather a godship of Beh’neefazor and human design merged with a small asteroid. The asteroid was an excellent storehouse of resources, being rich in water ice, gold, nickel and iron. The people lived within the hollowed-out center, protected from the radiation hazards of open space.
Grey Wolf guarded its location and its boundaries jealously. She had won her argument those many centuries ago, through fierce debates—and nearly open conflict—that humanity’s future was better secured through dividing the population, so as not to have all of the species confined to one vulnerable fortification. The counter argument was that with the human race’s surviving population so low, division would only retard the rebirth of mankind. Fewer, hands, fewer minds, a thinned-out gene pool, and gods scattered between two outposts—all of these obstacles would handicap the most important endeavor humanity would ever undertake.
Apollo knew all this, and yet he was still surprised at the ferocity of Grey Wolf’s response to his probe. It indicated that after all these centuries her hair-trigger instinct for protecting her world had not subsided in the slightest.
Still, his probe had gathered some useful information during its brief mission. He had known the Wandering World was located in this particular system, although he had no details. He’d certainly never been invited to visit. He had to admit, as he studied the data, that she had chosen a prime location to burrow in for the long haul. The system was alive with resources and, frankly, reflected a beauty that appealed to the aesthete in him.
The most prominent feature of the system was a glowing band of gas and matter that stretched around the star in an unbroken ring. Apollo’s thoughts flashed to the beauty of Saturn in Earth’s home system, a world he would probably never see again. The spectacle before him looked as if Saturn’s rings had been expanded to encompass the planet’s entire orbit around the sun.
As he digested the readings and calibrated his perspective, however, Apollo saw that the scale was not as immense as he’d first thought. The star at the center was considerably smaller than Sol, and the planets were in much tighter orbits.
Still, the ring was clearly the obliterated remains of a planet, and it must have been a colossal world, a planet many times the size of Lodias. No, he calculated, it must have been a collision between two giant planets and all their satellites to fill such a volume of space. Even after the destruction in the distant past of these unknown worlds, the ring retained traces of their atmospheres, a tenuous mist that bathed the debris ring in shades of blue and yellow.
Grey Wolf had positioned her Wandering World within the great field of rubble, where it blended in perfectly with its surroundings—just another chunk of stone floating in the endless river of cosmic debris.
Apollo waited a few moments for Grey Wolf to digest his hail, but found he wasn’t much in the mood to tiptoe around her surliness for very long. He’d made her aware of his arrival, as protocol demanded. But now it was time to take care of business.
He energized the defensive systems of his godship, including the drone cloud that provided a secondary shell, along with his weapons platform escorts. He suspected his systems could withstand any attack Grey Wolf might launch. Tower might have been able to breach his defenses, but he doubted Grey Wolf had the technical skill to develop superior weaponry.
He hoped so, anyway.
Apollo opened a rift in Divine Space and piloted out his godship. He set a course directly for the Wandering World, blasting a string of messages in a tightly focused beam at humanity’s second outpost. Apollo intertwined a regal musical fanfare of his own composition with the data streams to accompany a personal greeting to all citizens of the Wandering World from their beloved sun god. He discovered that if he concentrated, he could perceive and faintly tickle the blood riders in many of the human beings inhabiting the hollowed-out asteroid.
He smiled as he contemplated how much that would irritate Grey Wolf.
The scanners aboard his godship picked up the engine signatures of a swarm of destroyer-class vessels charging up. They launched, and he charted their courses as three-dimensional lines in the tactical holo that floated inside his command center.
He sighed, and tightcast a message across one of the private frequencies the gods had set up ages ago.
“Really, Bergdis, is all this drama necessary?”
Grey Wolf’s
reply was a long time in coming. When it did, her tone was serene and removed, even though her words dripped acid.
“A strutting peacock needs a royal escort, Apollo. I’m convinced you’re who you say you are, but the galaxy has been full of surprises lately, hasn’t it?”
“I’m glad to hear you’re keeping a sharp watch. Back in The City, the people think you’ve abandoned them.”
“Why would they need me, when they have the mighty Apollo to protect them? I read the report you sent of the attack, although there was no mention of your role. Is this uncharacteristic modesty? Surely you were the decisive factor at the battle?”
“Touché. Too many of us were off tending to our personal projects, leaving the burden of defense solely on Tower. It’s time we correct that mistake and unite to fulfill our primary duty.”
“No one has successfully attacked my outpost, Apollo,” she said, and he could practically see the feral grin behind the words.
“Yet,” he replied. “The Otrid were able to mount a surprise attack on Tower, who was the most militarily capable of us all. They were able to cripple Maelstrom, mutilate Faraway, and I’m not sure what’s happened to Triton. If they find you here, you won’t stand a chance. We’re running short of gods, Grey Wolf. At this point, we’re stronger together.”
“Jensen was a good man,” she said, using Tower’s pre-elevation human name. “I need no instruction as to what his loss means. Remember, he had the wisdom to not oppose me when I proposed the creation of the Wandering World. No, Apollo. Everything you’ve described validates my position,” and the reserved calm of her voice slid away to reveal a harsher tone. “My original insistence to split the population has been proven right. What if the entirety of the human race had been crowded under that ridiculous dome when the attack came? What if one or two random actions had gone the other way?”
Apollo tried to suppress the ungodly thoughts brewing in his head. It was just as it had always been. After so many centuries estranged, the conversation between himself and Grey Wolf had shifted into argument in mere minutes. He should have insisted Talia undertake this mission, limitations or no. At least those two wouldn’t have had centuries of enmity between them.
He calmed himself and tried a different angle. “Here’s what’s changed, Bergdis. Apex’s new world is ready. I sent a man there who’s seen it with his own eyes and spoken to Apex. The whole long-term project is coming to fruition. Human beings will once again be able to walk underneath an open sky, just as nature intended. Our time in exile, hiding in caves and in metal cylinders, is nearly behind us. Our people can be truly free again. But to get there, and allow humanity to truly recover and start over, we need to combine our strengths.”
The silence from the other end told Apollo he’d captured her attention.
“Join us, Grey Wolf! This is the best course for all of us. The sensors in my godship are very good, Bergdis. I can see how many people live inside your rock. In almost nine hundred years the population of the Wandering World has barely grown at all. At best, you’re treading water here. At worst, you’re indulging yourself at their expense.”
As soon as he’d said the words, Apollo knew he’d made a mistake. The dour god of the Wandering World did not respond well to insults. And normally Apollo was far more diplomatic. There was just something about their respective personalities that could never mesh.
“You will not instruct me in the protection of my people, shallow artist!”
“Your people? Are they captives then? They have no say in their own future? Will you even bother to ask them what they think?”
“Leave,” Grey Wolf said, and the distance between them could not hide the hatred in her voice.
“That is your final position, then? You refuse to join with us and combine our forces against the Otrid threat?”
“Leave.”
“I’ll go when I’m ready, and not before. There is one last thing I require from you.”
Her hesitation in replying revealed her shock at being directly challenged in such a manner. A single word, choked in rage, passed between them. “Require?”
“Yes.”
Apollo refrained from arming his weapons systems, although he teetered on the brink. He’d enhanced his godship with a variety of new systems Talia had uncovered that Tower had created before his death, and he’d developed a few surprises of his own that he doubted Grey Wolf had any counters for.
“Here is the plan Maelstrom and I created to execute our escape to the new world,” he said, tightcasting another pulse of information to her. “You can see that it requires enormous amounts of energy, and coordination from multiple source points. When we signal, you will do your part instantly. That will be the final communication between us. You’re on your own after that. Wander forever if you wish, but you will help us one last time.”
The moment dragged as she digested the plans Apollo had sent. He readied himself to execute his very messy alternative action, should she refuse. The plan was technically possible to pull off without her, but far riskier. She would see that, Apollo told himself. She had to. If she still refused, she was lost to humanity forever, just one more potential threat in a galaxy full of them.
At last she responded.
“I will do this task when you signal.”
Without another word, Apollo set loose the patterns of energy that pulled his ship from the Wandering World’s system and back into the grasping chaos of Divine Space.
A good thing you came to your senses, Bergdis. It would have been a shame to have had to destroy you.
Chapter 22
The Burning World
A message from his ranking subcommander intruded on Kwed’s thoughts. He choked down the flood of information from his Harness of Lordship and took a moment to clear his mind. His sail segment felt unusually warm, and when he caught his image in the chamber’s reflector, he was startled to discover it had shifted to a rusty color he had only ever seen on the most powerful Otrid Lords.
His transformation was continuing, and the realization wakened a deep excitement within him.
He allowed his officer entry, and turned to face the underling.
“The planet is ready for bombardment, Lord Kwed Fighting Sea. Our warriors have been evacuated, and all ships are in formation. This one awaits your command.”
“Meet me on the bridge in a half-watch,” Kwed relied, and dismissed the subcommander.
Alone once more, he let out a cry of fierce anticipation. The thrill of the conquest was like an electric current racing between his segments. His first eradication was about to commence, with the humans soon to follow. His name would join those of the heroes of earlier times, the great Lords who had defeated the Shrikk hordes and those who discovered and tamed the parasites that inhabited the carbonized remains of the First Ones.
Kwed detached his harness from the ship’s mindcore and exited his chamber. He marched to the bridge, releasing spores that heightened the sense of determination and resolve of everyone in his path.
The crew saluted in unison, their whip arms moving smartly, as he settled into the ship’s command creche. He could see the rapidly shifting colors of the bridge crew’s sail segments as the anticipation grew. A planetary extinction action was a rare thing, and to be part of the bridge crew was an honor that would enhance the status of all of Kwed’s officers. He was aware of it, and was pleased his glory would reflect on them. His underlings had performed well in the short time since he’d been elevated.
Kwed watched on the bridge display as the planet rolled beneath them. They were crossing from the night side to the day side, and the fleet’s first target was coming into range.
The importance of the moment was front-and-center in his unified mind, although smaller thoughts nibbled at his consciousness. Filthy long-legged singletons. His stalk segment’s tactile memory sub-brain could still feel the bite of the flying invertebrates and the grasping roots around his limbs from when the planetary lifeforms had risen in
revolt against the Otrid Lords. The laughter of the human large one rose in his memory, an unwelcome intrusion.
It did not help you in the end, he growled to himself. The nagging memories receded, replaced by a triumphant surge of pride.
“Release the first salvo,” Kwed ordered, his voice like iron.
The ship shuddered as the warheads disengaged. They streaked toward their targets, leaving burning trails across the dull orange atmosphere.
The first explosions followed moments later.
Kwed had selected the natives’ largest “city” as the first target, not that any civilized segment-species would classify the ramshackle collection of huts and caves a “city.” But still, the symbolism mattered.
A bright flare beneath the clouds marked the final moment of the alien city. The atmosphere churned as the land below was ripped away and the higher clouds rushed into the void.
A murmur of excitement ran through his bridge crew.
The bombardment was methodical, hypnotic, in a way. The warheads detonated across the hemisphere in a precise rhythm, clearing out brief views of the doomed surface that were quickly obscured by smoke and dust.
Kwed watched with satisfaction as the other ships in the fleet dropped their warheads. Four hundred and twenty times the flare of a detonation rippled across the globe, each one taking out a community of the spindly-legged natives.
He gave the order for the mass drivers in orbit to begin their kinetic bombardment. These projectiles had been herded into orbit after being mined from the planet’s small moon. They rained down like blows from a vengeful god, leaving bruises in the atmosphere where they plunged through the clouds.
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