The Animus Gate (Book One of The Animus Trilogy)

by Thomas M. McNamara

  He dropped onto the starboard wall and dived into a roll towards the bow. The Marine on the left spotted him and blind-fired across the room. Wall paneling shattered, spitting transglass and plastic everywhere, but he was not hit. He came to his feet just as he hit the far wall. This put him right on top of the other Marine. She was attempting to un-jam her rifle. He grimaced and fired on her at point-blank range.

  The cover on this side had a curve in it that bent towards the bow, so the last invader’s line of sight was just obstructed enough to give Darius time to reload. As he did so, they blind-fired again—and then he heard the click-click-click of an empty mag. Their adrenaline must have been sky-high to make a mistake like that. He racked his slide, climbed up the console, and took down the last imperial with his remaining ammo before they could finish reloading.

  If there were more still on the boat and prepared to fight, they would be coming soon. One of the two remaining grunts had surely called for backup as soon as Darius had engaged.

  His own adrenaline receded, and the bumps and bruises of combat made themselves known for the first time. The fatigue. The exhaustion. The ugliness of it all. If the Federation had wanted a machine, they should have sent a synth. Those things could handle wading through hell like this. They could shoot their own kind without end or feeling. Except for his hand, he was merely flesh and blood.

  Darius looked over to the captain’s chair and saw something blinking on a small display attached to one of its armrests. He climbed back up to the center of the bridge where zero gee still prevailed, then he floated over to the chair to take a closer look at the display.

  There was a notification on it:

  “Time to self-destruct: Five minutes and fifteen seconds.”

  He felt a coldness in his chest.

  The invading Marines had been just about to cancel this last command, judging by the hacking module plugged into a maintenance port on the side of the screen. But they hadn’t gotten far enough for him to be able to cancel the countdown on his own.

  “Nadira,” he said. “Nadira, can you hear me? Come in, over.”

  “I can hear you four by five, D. What’s taking you so long? Are you all right?”

  “Nadi...I need you to make a run for the escape pods. Nadi?”

  “Yes, I heard you. Darius—”

  “There’s only five minutes left on the self-destruct timer. I’ll never get back to you in time. You have to get clear on your own. Do it. Please.”

  “Darius, I can’t keep losing people. This has to end. It’s making my head spin.”

  “You have to go, Nadi. Do it for me. Do it for my family. I’ve done everything I can here. You have to do the rest.”

  “...All right, D. All right.”

  The lack of gee here was kind of nice after the battering of constant combat. He climbed into the chair and strapped himself in. So this was what it looked like to be a space captain.

  As he sat there contemplating the rotating starscape, he decided there were worse ways to go. There were worse views to have when the final breath came.

  It’s making my head spin, she’d said.

  His train of thought ground to a halt. An idea began to coalesce.

  His first move was to tear the hacking module out of the captain’s console.

  Then he threw off the straps, sprang to his feet, and landed on the starboard wall. An idea had blossomed.

  It’s making my head spin, she'd said...

  He ran up the wall and out of the bridge. He leaped through the entrance that the imperial Marines had cut. Another squad was already on its way, from the port side. They had just lined up behind the last bulkhead door in that corridor. But as they sighted him and began to open fire, he was already breaking off towards the starboard bulkhead door to his left.

  It’s making my head spin...

  How much time would it take? How fast could he move through this wreckage?

  He heard their footsteps as they came running after him.

  Physics had never been his specialty. He would just have to wing it.

  Darius bolted through the starboard bulkhead door, and he found what he was looking for in the corridor beyond: a breach pod. He dropped into it just as the squad lined up for another stab at him. His feet crunched into the debris on the far side of the pod, where the gee was strongest. He climbed up the side and mashed the button that would close the pod door.

  It slammed shut, and seconds later, a grenade rolled across the pod door’s porthole. It settled right in the center. Naturally.

  Darius turned to protect his faceplate from the blast. Shrapnel and transglass exploded through the porthole, and he fell back against the far side of the pod. Even with the sonic buffering inside his helmet, his ears rang. A half dozen burning knives seemed to slice into his back. He knew there was shrapnel in him now. His suit integrity wasn’t red yet, though. There was a layer of gel underneath the armor plating for situations like this one. Still, the pain was almost overwhelming. It took everything he had left to push through the agony and climb up the side of the pod a third time.

  And there it was: the manual release lever for the clamps that held the pod to the ship.

  Darius punched the lever with his fist. It did not budge. He hit it again. It creaked slightly. He could feel footsteps approaching. As the imperial Marines closed in, he grabbed the lever and used it to heave himself upside down. His magboots secured themselves against the pod door. The manual release lever was right next to it. He looked through the ragged remains of the porthole. An imperial was staring back and hurriedly reloading her rifle.

  He raised one leg and kicked down on the lever as viciously as he could.

  The pod finally broke away with a grinding bang. The spin of the Demeter was intense enough to fling the pod away from the ship like it had been thrown by a giant. He was out of rifle range within seconds. But the pod’s hull had lost integrity; its breathable air went hissing out of the porthole that the grenade had blown open.

  Now that he had a decent view of the outside of the Demeter, he scanned the area around it with his visor. He’d only been through a self-destruct sequence the one time, and he hadn’t gotten a good look at it. But that wasn’t what interested him. He kept sweeping the area until he found what he was looking for: an escape pod.

  The one with Nadira and his family.

  He saw their suit IDs inside that tiny pocket of survival, several kilometers off. They were in much better shape than him. Much further away. Probably safe.

  He turned to look at the imperial fleet, and sure enough, there was the Pegasus, entering the stage right on cue. Sar-Zin’s navy had taken the bait of the asteroid-towing squadron and repositioned right into its path. Just like Cahill had told the Council they would.

  He closed his eyes and felt some peace, for the first time in forever. The endorphins were even kicking in, dulling the blazing pain in his back. He had completed his mission. Cahill had completed her mission. There was something in that.

  As the self-destruct timer expired, he turned in his jerry-rigged tin can to face the Demeter with a smile on his face.

  ✽✽✽

  The bridge crew of the Osiris watched in silence and dread as the implosion of the Demeter flashed across their holo projection.

  Stillwell broke the silence. “Tactical! I want scans of that whole area immediately!”

  “Aye, sir, setting maximum sweep.”

  “Sir,” said Commander Li, “shall I deploy a squadron to survey?”

  “No, not yet. Let’s keep them all with the fleet for now. I want them at full readiness to pick up the Pegasus.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Sir,” said Li. “The Pegasus is coming into view now. She...apparently, she went into orbit around Jupiter. Sir—she’s moving very fast. She’s moving fast, and she’s headed right for the center of our fleet!”

  “Evasive action!” roared Stillwell. “Maximum thrust!” He braced himself against a nearby railing, jus
t as the Osiris began to plow upward.

  “Sir,” said Li, “the Pegasus was pulling a gravity assist the whole time! She’s coming at us too fast! We have to abandon ship! There’s no time to get clear! Sir, we have to abandon the ship!”

  Stillwell stared at the tactical holo in disbelief. The Pegasus was twice the length of the Osiris, and one and a half times as wide. She had nearly twice the mass. It was almost the size of the Agamemnon. As a torpedo, she was the most devastating weapon in human-occupied space. Once she started plowing into their formation, it would set off a chain reaction of power core detonations that would probably wipe them out.

  Commander Li took over and gave the order to abandon the Osiris. He grabbed Stillwell by the arm and was saying something, yelling something. Stillwell couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t stop staring at the holo.

  The Federation was sacrificing its most prized possession to destroy its enemies.

  He fell to his knees. His cheeks were wet.

  “I underestimated them.”

  ✽✽✽

  Darius coughed and became aware that he was somehow still alive. He opened his eyes and could see, which was also a good sign. He raised his hands before him, and they were still shod in combat armor. There wasn’t much light, but he could see them.

  He recalled something that his father had once said, after Saeed had drunk the tea of the spoiled mushroom. Before he had disappeared in the jungle: “It is said that when some people die, they do not know they are gone, and they wander an echo of the world. Sometimes I wonder after I dream my confused, aimless dreams—was that the wandering of ghosts? Is this waking life just the sleep of the dead?”

  Darius gazed through the porthole and beheld Jupiter below him. Or above him? It was hard to tell sometimes, in space. The colossal planet dominated his vision either way. He had never seen it this close.

  If this was a dream of the dead, it was one hell of a sight.

  He looked around the pod. It had worked a miracle. But then again, it was built for hard impacts. Shredded and bent as it had become, it had sheltered him just barely. He activated the flashlight on his helmet and took a look around. Maybe there was some spare ammo around here.

  His visor flickered on and off. His comms were fried. Oxygen was getting low.

  All he could find amid the debris were the usual labels and stickers. “Maximum Occupancy: 5 persons,” said one. “WATCH HEAD ON EXIT,” said another.

  Darius would have sworn that there was an emergency transponder activation button somewhere in these things, but he couldn't remember where it was supposed to be located. They were there for when these pods got knocked off course, or for when they landed in a way where the hatch couldn’t open.

  Maybe this is finally the end of the line, he thought. It was a relief, in a way. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn't been running, shooting, or blowing something up. Maybe he’d finally earned eternal rest for his transgressions.

  He put a thought out into the universe: If this is meant to be the end of my journey, then let it be the end. But if I am still the key that unlocks the door...

  The thought trailed off. He was feeling very tired now. He decided to get a little shuteye. In this man’s Army, you never knew when your next chance was gonna come.

  ✽✽✽

  Darius awoke sometime later in an altogether different place.

  There was a certain smell that he couldn’t quite identify. He opened his eyes and could still see, so that was nice. He touched his face experimentally. Ears, nose, lips, teeth, chin—all there. He looked at his hands. They were bare. The one on the right was still made of carbon and metal.

  Oh, he was dizzy, though. He touched his scalp. There was a bandage there. Probably a concussion. His back felt strange.

  He realized that he was lying down in a bed. It was a gurney. That brought back some memories.

  It was a hospital smell. Antiseptics.

  There was a sound to his left. A door sliding open.

  His mother drifted into view.

  “Darius, my darling” she said. “Feeling better?”

  He looked over.

  “Mom... where are we? Is this a hospital? How did you find me?”

  She patted him on the arm. “They told me that a breach pod transponder clicked on, and they decided to do a sweep. Apparently military regulations require it, at least in a time of war.” She brushed a hand through his curly black hair. “You should probably just lay back and relax.”

  “Mom...” He took her hand. His grip felt weak. “I’m so sorry about Rali. I...I should have kept him safe. We should have run. Sometimes it’s the right thing to do.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Rali was already running when you took him to the jungle. He never really recovered from your father’s disappearance. It took a piece of him. You found that piece and gave it back. You did it simply by believing in him. And so he rediscovered belief in himself.”

  “But how do you know, mama? You weren’t there, at the ruins.”

  “When you told me of what happened there, I knew. A mother always knows.”

  She patted his hand and turned to a vase of flowers on a nightstand to his left.

  “We all leave something behind when we go,” she continued, “in the hearts of those who loved us and knew us. And they say that someone is not truly gone until their name has been whispered for the last time, but that is not quite true. We all keep going after we are gone, through how we touched the lives of others. How we touched them affects how they touch the lives of their own family and friends. And on it goes. These threads weave a tapestry around all of us.”

  She looked over to him with a melancholy smile. “And what a tapestry you have woven. Your father and your brother would be proud. I know I am.”

  She sighed. “He was my son. But when his day came, I already knew that his time had grown short. Were it not for that, I do not know what I would have done. I supposed the fear prepared me just enough to endure. And I still have you, and Omar. We can rebuild.”

  “With your brother’s help,” said Darius, “I think we can. I think we should, for Rali, and for dad.”

  “Yes.” She seemed satisfied with her adjustments to the flower arrangement. She stood up to leave. “I will come back soon. I need to ask Nadira more about what has happened. I can see why you like her, by the way. She has...fire.”

  His mother took her leave, and he was alone once more.

  He glanced over to the nightstand on his right. There was a wristpad on it. It was just barely within reach. He grabbed it and took a closer look at it.

  There was an unread message on it. From Cahill.

  He opened it, and a holo recording of her popped up.

  “Hey, trench monkey. If you’re seeing this video, that means that I kicked the bucket. That also probably means there were a few things that I didn’t get to tell you before I ate it, so...find a quiet place and have yourself a seat. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

  “The funny thing is, I didn’t think much of you when we first met. To me, you were just some brat that the empire threw into the shit to rattle your cage. But my orders were my orders. The more I worked with you, though, the more it looked like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone on your six every once in a while. Maybe I’d been on my own for too long, out there in the black. Sure, you were a little cocky, but I guess I liked sharing the occasional meal or chat after all.

  “It also made me realize how much this war had changed me. I think I ended up in a place that I couldn’t really ever come all the way back from. But in a way, you kinda shined a light down that tunnel I was in, and you made me see how deep it really was. I think in the end, I pulled you out of the fire not because I thought you could drag me back out, but because by saving you, maybe I could save a part of myself.

  “So I’m gonna ask you to do me a favor. I want you to stop digging while you can still see daylight. The world has too many holes already. Whatever
you think you owe the dead or the living, I think you’ve paid it. If you get this shit with the empire done, I want your next mission to be walking away. Go enjoy your fucking life. Lay down the sword and pick up a plowshare. Start a family. What remains now is only what you owe to yourself.

  “Just buy a Marine a drink the next time you meet one.”

  He watched the holo a few more times. It felt good to have a recording of her. He had missed the sound of her voice. He had given up on getting any parting advice from someone who understood what he’d been through —and what he risked if he kept going.

  Maybe peace wouldn’t be such a bad option—if it were a choice he had the luxury to make.

  There was one other new message. It had come in while he was watching Cahill’s video. It was a text from an unknown sender.

  He opened it up.

  It contained only two words:

  “Open sesame.”

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  Acknowledgement

  While the first draft of a manuscript is typically the work of a single individual, turning that into an actual novel is anything but a solo effort. For example, in an effort to depict a realistic survival situation in a jungle, I relied on several excellent bushcraft videos produced by Bob Hansler on Youtube, and also Primitive Technology.

  To refine my understanding of story structure, or at least to validate my techniques and intuition, I turned to Brandon Sanderson's superb instructional videos, also on Youtube. The book Into the Woods by John Yorke was also a valuable reference.