Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  Graham tilted his head to the side. If what she uttered was intended to be a sentence containing a beginning, middle and end, it had evolved into a most lengthy, convoluted one. Liz persisted in not looking at him, and her steps increased velocity.

  He hadn’t expected this reaction from her. It was not the correct one. She was a tough, no-nonsense agent, yes, but also highly pragmatic. It was why he’d always valued her. Why he had come to rely on her.

  Bloody hell, his instincts were atrophying.

  His fingers dug into the stiffening gel of the stress ball. “I’m afraid events are overtaking those issues rather quickly. We’re now faced with the task of figuring out how to fight a war against the Alliance and a war against invading aliens at the same time.”

  “You believe these rumors about aliens?”

  “They’re not rumors, Liz.”

  Her eyes widened briefly; she blinked and turned away, though not before he caught a glimpse of an angry flare. “So, your orders are to release Isabela Marano then?”

  He had become a soft, lumpy bureaucrat behind a desk. A stupid, slow fool of an old man.

  The ball was reduced to a clump inside his fist; he kept his voice casual. “I’ll handle it. I need to speak to her one more time—apologize for the inconvenience, the usual rigmarole. I just wanted to tell you first, since you’re the lead investigator. You can get the paperwork started.” They hadn’t used ‘paper’ in more than two hundred years, yet for whatever reason they continued to call the bureaucratic documentation labyrinth ‘paperwork.’

  “Yes, sir.” She moved toward the door, but paused to half-glance over her shoulder. “Do you think she knows where he is?”

  He chewed on his bottom lip, a tic she would recognize. “I think…yeah, she probably does. We didn’t push her particularly hard, and she is nothing if not loyal to her brother.”

  “Can’t win them all, I guess.” She exited without asking if they were done, and he was left staring at the door long after it closed behind her.

  26

  NEW BABEL

  INDEPENDENT COLONY

  * * *

  “WELL, MARCUS, LOOKS LIKE YOU aren’t quite so omnipotent after all….” Olivia Montegreu shut off the news feed with more force than usual and tried to focus back on work.

  The Senecan Intelligence agent being cleared of responsibility for the EASC bombing wasn’t the kind of revelation that would end the war. By this point the heinous acts and death tolls piled high enough that the list of things which could end the war measured extremely short.

  Still, it vaguely troubled her. A chink in the armor—Marcus’s armor—and thus a glitch, if minor, in the plan.

  She frowned at the screen in her hand, annoyed the news had darkened her mood. Everything else was going so spectacularly well. Chimeral sales were up 158%, tech an impressive 243%. The addition of proceeds from Ferre’s dealings in the Federation added 12% to the weekly income. Things were going so well, in fact, she was opening a third tech assembly line here and a new distribution center on Cosenti.

  It had been a good month for the Zelones cartel. Still, she couldn’t fully shake the jittery feeling at the base of her neck brought on by something, even something so small, going wrong. And there looked to be a gap in the financial reports—a delay in several of the smaller colonies sending their data. Unacceptable. She sent off a message to the Zelones lead accountant requesting an explanation within the hour.

  Her foot tapped a staccato beat on the marble floor. She needed to take her mind off problems which were frankly miniscule. She needed a reset.

  The rhythm of her foot increased in tempo. She considered it a moment; checked the time. It was late in the afternoon. Close enough.

  She sent a pulse.

  Come over.

  The response took only seconds.

  Give me thirty minutes.

  She had his shirt half off before he made it completely through the door. Her mouth firmly on his, she dragged him inside as his hands roved directly to her hips. She slammed him into the wall next to the door, which didn’t dissuade him from bunching her skirt up and sliding his hand beneath it.

  His lips tore over her cheek to her ear. “How do you want it?”

  Her breath caught in her throat as his index finger reached its destination. “Get your cock inside me and then we’ll see.”

  Aiden Trieneri was an excellent lover. He also happened to be the leader of the Triene cartel and possibly the sole person she came close to considering her equal. He fell a few notches short, but anyone would.

  He served as an excellent lover for several reasons, but her favorite must be because he was dangerous. Every second with him carried a risk he would try to kill her. He was one of the few people who might succeed. She thought perhaps he enjoyed her for much the same reason.

  He had suggested they merge their operations exactly once. She had punished him for it. She did not share power.

  They didn’t share anything else, either. They never discussed business, or politics, current affairs or any topic whatsoever which threatened to give one an edge over the other. They shared sex, and sex alone. Not exclusively by any means, and she often went several months between seeing him. But when they shared it, they shared it well.

  All of which explained why she was a sweaty, sticky, naked mess when she learned an alien armada was annihilating colonies in the eastern region of settled space.

  She’d sent Aiden on his way after two stimulating hours and flicked on the news to see if there were further developments in the EASC bombing revelations before heading to the shower. She clearly couldn’t resume work in this condition.

  “Some people who were approaching Messium at the time of the attack managed to escape. They captured footage of more than a dozen ships kilometers in length and of a foreign appearance unlike any vessel humans have built.”

  She didn’t bother to grab a shirt as she rushed into the office to gape in utter disbelief at the images on the feed.

  Yes, those ships were without a doubt alien. Impressive machinery, too.

  “All attempts to contact the colony of Messium or anyone believed to be located on it have thus far been unsuccessful. In addition, we are now learning communications have been lost with multiple colonies to the east of Messium. These include New Riga, Lycaon and Dair in the Senecan Federation, Karelia, Gaelach, Zetian and Edero in the Earth Alliance, and the independent colonies of Gaiae, Andromeda and New Orient.

  “This is the extent of the information we possess at the present time, but we are devoting all our resources to learning more and getting the information to you.”

  A muted but emergent anger began to take shape in the pit of her stomach. She had just lost 10% of her organization—people, supplies, resources. Funds.

  “We have reached out to both governments but as of yet we’ve received no response. It is, however, difficult to imagine the Federation and Alliance governments remained ignorant of the invaders until now.”

  Difficult to imagine, indeed. These aliens had carved a swath through a third of settled space before the public knew what was happening. And if they were attacking Messium they exhibited significant and unwelcome intentions, for it did not constitute a small or undefended world by any means.

  She needed to engage in a conversation with Marcus, one which was not likely to be especially pleasant for either of them. But first she needed to think.

  NEW COLUMBIA

  EARTH ALLIANCE COLONY

  Marcus’ transport had reversed course as soon as the news of the Orbital explosion hit. He’d never made it to Sagan, somewhat to his disappointment. It was after all a charming world. But time was short. So very short.

  He had decided to stop at New Columbia for the formalities. It was going to take another thirty-six hours to reach Earth and his citizens needed reassurance now. They needed to know there remained leaders capable of guiding and protecting them. And he did intend to do exactly that, far more so than they re
alized.

  His senior aide gave the signal the feeds were live. He turned to the judge. The man wasn’t the Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court in London, but he sufficed.

  The judge uttered a preamble in a deep, formal voice properly befitting the occasion. Marcus placed his left hand on the Bible, the timeless symbol for grave oaths, and raised his right hand.

  “I do solemnly swear to truly and faithfully execute the duties entrusted to me by the Second Earth Alliance Constitution of 2146 through the Office of Prime Minister, to respect and safeguard the rights and liberties of all peoples, and to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the citizens, colonies and institutions of the Earth Alliance.”

  And like that it was done. His goal for some forty years culminated in a rite over before it began. Good thing he wasn’t one for sentimentality.

  Ceremony concluded, he faced the dozens of cameras hovering above the crowd. “Let us give a silent prayer for the thousands of souls lost to us yesterday.” His eyes closed for 5…4…3…2…1.

  “I accept the position of Earth Alliance Prime Minister with a heavy, sorrowful heart. Luis Barrera was a true statesman and a leader in the purest sense of the word. But most of all he was my friend for many years, and I will miss him more than I can express in mere words.

  “Luis Barrera devoted his life to public service out of the desire to help shape a better world. It is a particular tragedy that instead he found himself forced to lead in a time of conflict, to lead a war not of his own making. I have no doubt he would have been successful and guided us to peace, had he lived.

  “I will do everything in my power to achieve the same. I pledge today to work every waking hour and to my last breath to win this war—to ensure the Earth Alliance wins with dignity and pride and stands unbowed, victorious, upon the fields of battle.”

  He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. The primary purpose of the Orbital incident was not to fan the flames of war, which likely could flare no stronger than they now burned—and if they could the simple act was sure to do so on its own. No, the explosion had been a final necessary act to propel him to the pinnacle of power in the galaxy.

  He regretted the excessive loss of life; he genuinely did. But an Alliance Prime Minister made for a difficult target, one only rarely vulnerable. Time had been, as it was now, short.

  “The investigation into the explosion on the Orbital has barely begun. It would be easy for us to place the blame at the feet of the Federation, and in the end we may well do so. But I urge the public to reserve judgment and allow the investigation to run its course. For now, let us instead mourn the innocent civilians lost in this attack no matter the perpetrator. But make no mistake—whoever the perpetrator, we will exact full justice for their deaths.

  “We must also thank the heroic personnel throughout the Orbital who prevented an even more catastrophic loss of life by immediately activating security overrides and sealing off the damaged section before the entire outer ring was lost. Countless people owe their lives to these heroes.

  “I want to assure everyone there will be no lapse in our military strategy. We have the finest in skilled, experienced military leaders in the galaxy overseeing the war, and their work continues unabated. I personally know these men and women. I have participated in Prime Minister Barrera’s councils and briefings, and I guarantee you this transition will be rapid and seamless.

  “Now I will return to Washington and begin the work of guiding the Earth Alliance forward to a new day. Thank you all for your support. Thank you, Luis Barrera, for your service. May God bless your soul and those of your family.”

  He waved off any questions, including several shouted inquiries regarding newly leaked evidence about the alleged perpetrator of the EASC Headquarters bombing. He allowed his security detail, tripled in size since his arrival, to shepherd him back to the transport.

  He needed to take control of the situation, and fast. The EASC bombing no longer mattered, though finding Marano and Solovy did. Events had moved beyond it and at a rate far swifter than he had anticipated. Days remained at most before it would become impossible to ignore the alien offensive.

  He had one final chance to stop a far greater, infinitely more calamitous event—the destruction of the human race. This was what he had spent the last five years working to prevent. At first subsumed within his own goals, the effort had soon come to dominate then eclipse his personal ambitions.

  It all would have been far easier if he’d had ten or even twenty years to prepare. But Hyperion had not deigned to warn him until five short years ago, by which time the danger was already imminent.

  You must cease expanding along the Scutum-Crux Arm in the Fourth Galactic Quadrant.

  Marcus jumped, startled. He covered the reaction by wiping his mouth with his napkin then grimacing across the table at his wife. “The PM is asking to speak to me. I’m sorry, dear. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  She nodded in acknowledgement, having grown used to the interruptions by now, and he excused himself from the dinner table.

  The alien had never contacted him at home before, but he doubted the being recognized such human distinctions in any event. This was a new home, situated in the gentrified Georgetown neighborhood of Washington. The Brennon administration had taken power two months earlier; he had been confirmed as Attorney General a few short weeks ago.

  Hyperion’s out of the blue declaration was as cryptic as ever. Once the door to his office slid shut he prepared himself for the always precarious interchange. “Our eastern-most colony is currently Gaelach. Is there some danger in the space beyond it?”

  There is no problem respecting Gaelach. But Gaiae, Andromeda, Dair—they encroach. Expand along the Sagittarius and Perseus Arms instead.

  He frowned. “The Alliance doesn’t control those colonies. Gaiae and Andromeda were founded by independent interests. Dair is a Senecan Federation colony. In fact, the Federation controls most of the northeastern region of settled space. I can’t influence their expansion plans.”

  You have now risen to a position of power. You can influence many decisions.

  So that was why the contact now. “Yes, but not Senecan decisions. You do understand our political situation, don’t you?”

  We recognize your various factions. The fact remains, humanity must cease expansion in the identified direction.

  “And if we don’t?”

  There will be consequences.

  “Hyperion, I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

  Humanity cannot be permitted to settle beyond a line 5.48kpcs from Earth spanning across the Scutum-Crux Arm. If you do not cease the expansion, we will.

  “Are you threatening us?”

  Yes.

  Marcus forcibly buried his instinctive reaction. “You would attack us for approaching your region of space?”

  Not attack. Eradicate. Annihilate. Extinguish. Obliterate. Eliminate. Your language has a number of terms which suffice.

  “So it does. Very well. I will do what I can.”

  Marcus wandered out of his office in a daze. He lied to his wife and escaped the house. He needed to think, and to think he needed to be alone, free of expectations and the eternal façade.

  Washington was new to him, and he spent several hours walking the streets of Georgetown and the surrounding neighborhoods. He didn’t notice the landmarks or galleries or posh pubs but he did appreciate the damp breeze off the Potomac.

  He had no way to know whether Hyperion’s aliens were capable of successfully executing on the threat and no way to learn the answer. Clearly they possessed technology more advanced than humanity, at least with respect to communications. Beyond this he knew almost nothing about them for certain, other than they were profoundly arrogant and unquestionably alien.

  Taking Hyperion at his word—under the circumstances he saw no choice but to do so—he had been given a chance to save the human race from devastation. Possibly from extinctio
n.

  Marcus had always been an ambitious man; he had no qualms admitting such. The trait had served him well, taking him from the streets of Rio to the Earth Alliance Cabinet in a few short decades. This ambition was a major reason why Hyperion approached him thirty-two years earlier and why it continued to come to him.

  The alien—maybe all the aliens—believed he possessed both the talent and the capability to shape galactic events. Hyperion seemed to believe he could shape the course of history itself.

  Could he?

  Perhaps not. But at this moment, there was no one else who could.

  It took two months for him to devise the rough outline of a plan, then another month for him to reach out to the woman who he had owed an implicit debt for fifty years.

  In time, he and Olivia would identify individuals in advantageous positions and recruit them for varying levels of participation. The methods of enticement were custom-tailored to take full advantage of each person’s particular weakness.

  Blind spots were, after all, the easiest of all foibles to exploit.

  27

  PORTAL PRIME

  UNCHARTED SPACE

  * * *

  CALEB NEARLY MISSED IT. For all that he continuously scanned the landscape for incongruities or any trace of disturbance in the native flow of the terrain, he almost hiked right past the subtle ledge outcropping.

  But he didn’t.

  A rock was missing. On a slope covered in small boulders seemingly arranged by nature, there was a conspicuous gap of disturbed soil, as if the rock formerly resting there had been dislodged by an external force.

  His gaze traveled up the slope past the gap to…there. A tree limb had been broken off, leaving splinters of wood jutting out from the trunk. The slope continued upward through dense trees until he caught a glimpse of it leveling off to what might be a small plateau.

  The area in question was three hundred meters above him. He took a long swig of water, rotated his arms a couple of times and loosened the strap across his chest. Then he trekked up the hill very, very quietly.