“The temple?”
“What you see around you. This is the dwelling place of Omnius. He lives here among his most faithful servants. During the day, the garden is open to all his chosen people, but at night the doors are shut and his disciples are free to commune with him without the impatient press of pilgrims come to bask in His glory.”
“You speak of this Omnius like he’s a god,” Ethan replied.
“He is that and more.”
“Right . . . so this is where he lives? Where is he?”
“He is not a person or an entity that you can point to and say—there he is!—he’s all around us, ever present, always watching, all-knowing, and all-powerful.”
Ethan frowned. “I don’t feel him.”
“Neither do I . . .” the Avilonian replied in a shaky whisper. “I fear he has left us all to die.”
“Nice god you have.”
“Do not speak ill of him! He would not abandon us unless we deserved it.”
“This . . . invisible god of yours. He’s in control of all your defenses? Every weapon on this planet?”
“That is correct.”
“So no one fires a shot without his permission.”
“No, ordinarily he trusts us as his Peacekeepers to do what we must, but someone must have threatened him terribly for him to deactivate everything.”
“I don’t see anyone here to threaten him.”
“Omnius resides here, but his essence is spread out across our world. The threat could be somewhere else.”
“Then why are we here?”
“This is the coming together of all that he is. Here the disciples come to know Omnius better and tend to him. Here the beauty of his mind is laid bare for all to see, that we might stand in awe of him. If there is something wrong with Omnius, we will find it here.”
Ethan looked around the garden and struggled to wrap his head around what the Avilonian was saying to him. “So . . . what exactly is he? A tree?”
“You make fun of things you know nothing about.”
“It was an honest question.”
“Leave me.”
“All right, I apologize. If he’s not a tree, then what is he?”
“Your people would call him an artificial intelligence.”
“Oh,” Ethan said, taken aback. “Well, we have that, too; we just don’t worship ours.”
“No, Omnius is different, he is self-aware.”
“So are ours.”
“You mean so they appear to be. True artificial intelligence evolves quickly, learns endlessly, and grows ever more potent with time. Your equivalents remain stagnant and do only what they are designed to do. They are slaves of humanity, while we are slaves of Omnius.”
“I think I like our version better.”
“Do not blaspheme to me, martalis. Omnius is benevolent and good. We are slaves to him because his goodness compels us to serve him, and because his wishes and demands are only for our best. Without him we would have long ago succumbed to our inner darkness and destroyed ourselves.”
Alara grabbed Ethan’s arm and pulled him away from the soldier. “Ethan!” she hissed. “Don’t make fun of them—or it,” she said, her eyes scanning the sky warily.
He decided not to press the point. Alara was right; they couldn’t afford to make enemies here. He turned his attention to the path they were walking on. A muffled boom of thunder rumbled subtly through the air, and Ethan recalled the battle raging outside the tower. It occurred to him then that they should be running through this thousand acre garden rather than walking as though they had all the time in the world. Ethan suspected the only reason they weren’t was because of the white-robed disciples who stood on the sidelines watching their every step. Perhaps they thought the intruding soldiers were part of the rebel army which was to blame for Omnius’s sudden disappearance. Ethan eyed the disciples right back, wondering if they were to blame—after all, they were the only ones here.
The pathway came to a building which looked like a giant overturned bowl. That bowl was golden, smooth and reflective like a mirror. As they approached it, Ethan saw his blue cape holding one of the white-robed disciples at gunpoint, using the plasma rifle Ethan had given him to threaten the civilian’s life. A sudden suspicion formed in Ethan’s gut, and he wondered if they weren’t in fact helping a rebel army to instigate a coup.
Hurrying to the front of the group, Ethan found the pair of blue-caped men yelling at the man in the white robe until at last that man held up his hands and placed one of them against the glossy golden surface of the bowl. In response to his touch the bowl rose off the ground on four shining pillars of light. Then the blue capes shoved him underneath the bowl and the rest of the Avilonian soldiers crowded in behind him. The squads of Zephyrs followed, as did Ethan and Alara. From the inside, the dome was black and empty, as was the slightly raised podium underneath, although a glowing red line ran around the edges of it. Not far from that was a glowing green line, which Ethan noticed the Avilonians were careful to stand inside. Ethan caught Alara straddling the line and he grabbed her hand to pull her over it.
The white-robed man raised his hands as if beckoning to the sky. And with that, the inside of the dome sprang to life, glowing subtly, but with ever increasing brilliance. Suddenly that man dropped his hands, and the dome fell with a boom. Alara all but jumped into Ethan’s arms, and he held her tight. Then the inside of the dome became painfully bright, and Ethan’s eyes shut reflexively. A loud whirring filled the air, wind whipped about in a sudden frenzy, and then Ethan felt his ears pop. The brightness glowing behind his eyelids faded, and the whirring noise disappeared. Then the air was abruptly still.
Ethan felt vaguely dizzy, as if he’d just been spun around a dozen times. Then he felt a draft, and he opened his eyes to see a startling, unobstructed vista of Avilon for hundreds of kilometers in all directions. The lights of the city glittered all the way out to the horizon. The skyscraper whose spire had been ruined by a crashing Nova Fighter glowed orange still, like the superheated barrel of a giant plasma rifle aimed up at the sky. A bed of flaming debris flickered at that monolith’s base, while dozens of smaller fires burned in the square and throughout the distant rooftop gardens below. Ethan looked up to see the dome which they had stepped under, now dark and silently hovering overhead once more. Wondering what it was, Ethan walked out from under it with the group of Avilonians and sentinels. As if in a daze, he walked to the edge of the room and placed both hands against another dome, this one completely transparent. It was cold and smooth to the touch, like transpiranium, and it was all that separated them from the chaos beyond the tower. Looking up, Ethan saw the faintly glowing outlines of Sythian cruisers drifting behind a near ceiling of clouds.
Apparently now they were standing in the uppermost reaches of the Zenith Tower. Above them arced two scythe-shaped pinnacles. Somehow the mysterious golden dome they’d walked under had transported them from the garden on the ground floor to the top of the Zenith Tower in a matter of just a few seconds. Given the height of the building, even the fastest lift tube should have taken at least a full minute to get them up that high.
Suddenly a Nova being chased by a pair of Shell Fighters dove past their lofty vantage point. The glowing red barrels of the alien fighters flashed with pulse lasers and Pirakla missiles before disappearing from view. Looking out to the horizon, Ethan saw the night painted with hundreds of bright orange specks—the glowing engines of yet more alien fighters—alternately diving and ascending like musical notes on a sky-shaped score. Rather than weaving melodies, these notes where cacophonic when they came together, pouring out deadly rain on the helpless city below.
“How much longer do you think this will go on before . . . ” Alara trailed off quietly beside him.
He turned to her, his usually green eyes now as black and cold as space but for a pair of diamond-bright pinpricks which shone in his irises. “Before it’s all just a pile of ash?” Ethan turned back to the view. “A few
days—a week at most. As soon as those cruisers start firing, it’s going to get ugly down here.”
Raised voices drew their attention away from the view, and they turned to study the others milling about inside the glass dome with them. The voices were coming from a raised walkway in the center of the room, found arching out over the golden dome that had brought them all up to the top of the Zenith. The blue capes were standing there, conferring with not one but two white-robed citizens. Ethan was sure that only one of the disciples had come with them from the garden, so the other one had to have been up here already. As Ethan looked on he realized that this one was different. He wore glowing white armor beneath his robe, and his chest bore a glowing golden version of the Avilonian emblem which the blue capes bore on their chests.
“Who is he?” Ethan asked aloud.
“That is the Grand Overseer,” someone said quietly.
Ethan turned to see one of the Avilonian soldiers standing there with them, looking up at the glowing white man.
“And? What’s that mean?” Alara asked.
“He is Omnius’s right hand, his human representative on Avilon. If anyone knows what has happened to Omnius, the Grand Overseer will.”
“Good!” Ethan set off for the raised walkway at a run.
“Wait!” the Avilonian called out behind him. “Martalis!”
“Name’s Ethan—” he called over his shoulder as he ran. “—not martalis.”
Chapter 29
“They’re not following us, Captain!” Esayla Carvon called out from gravidar.
“What do you mean, they’re not following us?”
“They must have realized that we’re a decoy. The Sythian fleet is heading for Epsilon.”
Caldin frowned. The Nova squadrons they’d sent to that nav point were the only resistance the Sythians had likely encountered from the planet, so of course they were drawn to that point. “Helm, take us to Epsilon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Caldin looked up and out the forward viewports. It was hard to see the city below past the Intrepid’s mighty bow, but the horizon was clearly visible, and so was the shining golden mountain of light which was the Zenith Tower. Clouds raced by them to either side. In the distance, dozens of Sythian Cruisers could be seen entering the atmosphere keel first, their hulls shining bright lavender against the night.
“We’re coming into range . . .”
“Weapons, stand by with our main beam.”
“Range!”
“Open fire!”
A brilliant red beam shot out overhead, sounding with a deafening screech as a raging torrent of pent up energy was released. The Corona beam lasted a few seconds before dissipating into the night, and it left a fiery runnel in their target’s hull. Then the target fired back with a glittering purple curtain of Pirakla missiles.
“Get ready to evade! Augment forward shields!”
The first missile impacted on their bow with a mighty splash of fire against their shields. The next three hit the same place, breaking through the weakened shield array. As soon as the explosions faded, a gaping hole opened up in the topside of their bow. The helm managed to evade the rest of that volley and certain destruction.
“Premator Beams stand by!” Caldin roared. “Open fire!” Four red beams shot out from the giant turret mounted on their bow, tracing lines of fire across their target’s hull. They flayed the Sythian cruiser open and it began drifting out of the sky. Caldin winced as she saw the enemy ship falling toward the city below. It was going to do a lot of damage when it hit.
“Give that beast everything we’ve got! We need to break it up before it reaches the surface!”
Red and blue dymium beams arced out, joined by stuttering lines of matching pulse lasers. Ripper cannons thudded through the sky, the shells’ tracer alloy painting golden streaks against the night. A volley of Silverstreak torpedoes jetted out on glittering silver contrails . . .
All of that hit the enemy with a continuous flashing of light and fiery explosions. The doomed Sythian cruiser burst into a dozen flaming pieces which rained down like meteors on the city below.
“Next target!”
“ETA sixty seven seconds to firing range . . .” Esayla called out from the gravidar station.
“Weapons, stand by!”
As if by mutual agreement, the dozens of alien cruisers hovering above the city all opened fire. Glittering clouds of missiles swarmed for the surface of the planet in a deadly purple rain.
Caldin looked on in horror. The first droplets hit, blossoming into bright orange fireballs, and the face of the city became pockmarked with them. Those pockmarks grew so numerous that they soon ran together in one endless ruin.
“We’re in range!”
“Open fire!”
The Intrepid’s main beam, her Corona cannon, flashed out once more, seeming to Caldin an inadequate protest to the destruction the Sythians were visiting on Avilon.
“Shell Fighters coming up fast!”
“Have our point defenses . . .” Caldin trailed off as she saw the close proximity of the fighters racing toward them. It was too late to cull their numbers, and there were too many of them—over a hundred. It wouldn’t take long for them to devour the Intrepid. Their first pass alone could be deadly.
“All power to shields! Open fire on those fighters!”
Before her crew could even respond to those orders, the enemy let loose their volley—a glittering wall of Pirakla missiles which sparkled against the horizon like a field of purple stars.
The Intrepid answered with a volley of her own. Hailfires streaked out from her starboard side just as the nav officer turned the ship to evade.
“Brace for impact!” Caldin called out as Hailfire and Pirakla missiles crossed each others’ paths. The Hailfires reached a designated range and then blossomed into eight streaking shards each. Then the enemy volley hit their flank, and dead of night turned as bright as the inside of a sun.
* * *
“Corbin, can you hear me?” Atton asked as he circled the spot on the ground where Ceyla’s emergency beacon was transmitting. Her flight chair had just settled down in the square at the base of the Zenith Tower.
After an anxious silence, the comms crackled with her reply.
“I’m all right!”
A wellspring of pent-up tension in his chest released. “Good! Get under cover! It’s about to get ugly down there.”
“Roger that, SC.”
Atton’s shields hissed with a sudden rain of pulse lasers, and he pushed his Nova into a sharp dive to evade pursuit.
“I’m punching out!” Razor called over the comms just a second before his fighter winked off the grid. Atton eyed the remaining green friendly contacts amidst the sea of red enemies circling the Zenith Tower with them. Guardian Squadron was down to just three, including him. The Renegades had four.
“This is frekked up!” Eight put in. “I’ve got three squadrons on me! Nine? Where are you?”
Without so much as a parting scream, Nine vanished from the grid, and Guardian squadron was down to just two.
“I’m on it, Eight!” Atton commed back, pulling an upward spiraling Immelmann turn in order to put his squad mate ahead of him. His own pursuers lazily followed that maneuver and then his enemy missile lock alarm shrieked in warning. Frek it! Watching the approaching warheads on his rear scope, he waited until the last possible moment . . . and then jerked the stick left and ruddered in the same direction. The enemy warheads spiraled by so close they bathed his cockpit in a shimmering violet light. Without warning the missile lock alarm shrieked again—
Suddenly it was cut off by a deafening roar, and Atton’s fighter rocked violently with the impact.
“Shields critical,” his AI warned.
He pushed his fighter into another dive for the surface of Avilon. “Eight! I can’t get to you! Meet me on the surface; let’s lose them between the buildings.”
“Can’t make it! Skrsssss . . .”
&
nbsp; And Eight was gone.
Now Atton was the last Guardian in the sky, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. His missile lock alarm was screaming with nonstop warnings. Nosing down further, he pushed the throttle into full overdrive. Lasers flashed by his cockpit in a luminous rain. Sythian missiles soon joined them, sparkling all around him like glowing amethysts falling from the sky. The missiles beat him to the surface, exploding in a continuous roar. Fire spread out like a carpet beneath his fighter. Atton pulled up at the last possible second and sailed through the roaring flames. Snapping on a terrain following overlay, he guided his fighter through man-made canyons of low-rise buildings, shaded green to reveal them where smoke and flames obscured them from sight. Rooftop gardens burst into flames. Windows which had been bright with light and life a second ago suddenly burst outward in glittering clouds of glass.
Atton dipped down below the rooftops to follow a broad blue river of the planet’s segregating shield. The energy barrier raced by underneath, shimmering with reflected firelight. Up ahead another volley of alien missiles hit a set of twin towers, and they telescoped down on top of themselves. He pulled up at the last second to avoid the liquefying spread of debris.
As his Nova roared into the sky, he caught a glimpse of the Intrepid. She was firing for all she was worth, beset by a dense cloud of Shell Fighters whose glowing orange thrusters silhouetted them against the night sky like a swarm of glow bugs.
The Intrepid was on fire, and slowly listing toward the ground. Horrified, but mesmerized by the sight of it, Atton was unable to tear his gaze away from the doomed cruiser.
So this is the end, he thought. The final frekking end of everything.
* * *
As soon as Ethan reached the raised walkway where the grand overseer stood, he saw the blue-caped soldier he’d given a plasma rifle to turn that rifle on him.
04 Dark Space Page 34