Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection

by G. S. Jennsen

  Some hundred fifty million people lived in the region, or had before the offensive began. It included Messium, Karelia, Requi, Elathan and all but ran through the middle of Seneca. An errant ship departing the planet could accidentally drift over the line and violate the aliens’ terms.

  Secretary Mori directed his attention her way. “Admiral Solovy, is vacating the region in a week’s time feasible?”

  “The people? Yes, but only because so many have already been killed or fled. The entire infrastructure will need to be left behind. Beyond what people carry with them and the ships which carry them away, everything will be lost.”

  Rychen dragged a hand through his hair. “What reason do we have to take these Metigens at their word? Are we supposed to live in fear from this day forward that they will return at any time? Or that one ship of criminals or imbeciles crossing the demarcation line will mean the death of us all?”

  A man who had been identified as the Federation Parliament Minority Leader fidgeted in his chair. “Isn’t the alternative exactly what they claimed? Extinction? We don’t have a choice.”

  Gianno cut her eyes at the man in a manner suggesting she didn’t think much of him. “We always have a choice, Senator.”

  “A choice to live or die!”

  “A choice to fight or submit.”

  Vranas twirled a disk in his hand and let out a long sigh. “Personally, I’m a bit pissed off. I didn’t appreciate being called a bug.”

  Ragged laughter rippled around the room. As it faded away Vranas straightened up in his chair. “You military types seem to be favoring telling these aliens to go screw themselves. Truthfully, what are the odds of us matching them on the field? Of, say, battling them to a stalemate or close enough they reconsider? And now is not the time for sugar-coating or kissing ass. We need the undistorted truth.”

  Miriam spoke first. “Low.”

  The others didn’t protest, and she continued. “Our capabilities get stronger by the hour. We expect in another day eighty percent of full communications capabilities will be restored, though it will take longer to roll out the modifications to every ship in both militaries. Several combat strategies showed promise at Messium and both sides continue to pore over the data from the battle. We’ve discovered additional weaknesses we think can be exploited.”

  She paused. “All that being said, the answer is still ‘low.’ Their ships are larger, more powerful and more numerous. In a head-to-head battle, if we send enough ships we can match them but in a war of attrition we will lose. We’re down too many ships from the war—” she motioned Mori silent “—but regardless we’d still be at a numbers disadvantage.”

  “So there’s no hope. We must bow to their demands.” It was the Federation Minority Leader again and it came out muffled because his head had dropped into his hands.

  “I said the odds were low, not zero. We can target specific locations with concentrated firepower. We can throw everything we have at them in coordinated strikes. It will mean sacrificing some worlds in favor of defending others.

  “But if we do this, we have a chance—at the very least a chance of inflicting real losses on the enemy. Whether we have a chance of achieving anything greater? I can’t say with any degree of confidence.”

  Her gaze went to Rychen, then Gianno. “Do either of you disagree with my assessment?”

  Rychen blew out a breath. “Speaking as someone who has been shot at by these aliens, I will only say they are fallible. They’re not gods. I’ve seen us destroy their ships. They are massive and terrifying and powerful, but they are not invincible. So I agree. We have a chance. A small one.”

  Gianno arched an eyebrow. “I’d personally welcome the opportunity to be shot at by them. I didn’t rise to this position to not be shot at by a formidable foe. Also, I’m working on a couple of new ideas.”

  Secretary Mori stood and leaned in until his face took up the entirety of his holo. “Are you people insane? You can’t seriously be suggesting we refuse this ultimatum! Do you all understand you are likely sentencing the human race to virtual if not total extinction?”

  Miriam closed her eyes. She had made many decisions over the years which cost lives in order to save other lives. Every military leader had. This decision was guaranteed to cost lives, while the lives it might save were nebulous and unknowable. Yet the urge to fight, to resist, was a strong one….

  Her eVi blinked an alert for an incoming message, highest priority. She frowned but opened it.

  “Of course we don’t intend to sentence the human race to extinction. If that is our sole option then—”

  Alexis was alive.

  The Federation Minority Leader muttered something about accountability and not being qualified to make this decision.

  Alive.

  She cleared her throat above the growing discord. “If I can interject? I’ve received information which alters the equation.”

  Brennon shifted his attention to her. “Admiral?”

  “I possess solid intel that the Metigens’ primary manufacturing facility—the location used to build their superdreadnoughts—has been completely eradicated. At a minimum we can expect they will not be receiving reinforcements or backfilling their lines for some time. The alien was bluffing—the ships in the field are, for all intents and purposes, the only ships they have.”

  Mori had been working up a good head of steam and blustered in her direction. “This sounds most improbable. From whom did you receive this intel, Admiral?”

  It was all she could do not to laugh in a kind of reckless joy. “From my daughter.”

  “What reason do we have to trust—”

  Brennon leveled a scathing glare at Mori to silence him. “Admiral Solovy’s daughter discovered the aliens weeks before they attacked, and our dismissal of her information cost many lives. I have no intention of dismissing it a second time.”

  Within her holo, Gianno appeared to be adjusting calculations and projections. “Admiral, where was this facility located? We’ve been unable to find any evidence of an alien base or stronghold.”

  Miriam’s pulse pounded in her ears, and she was having to work not to be utterly overwhelmed by any one of a cascade of emotions. “It was through the aliens’ portal in the Metis Nebula.”

  “Really? My most recent intel says the portal has vanished.”

  “Well, Alexis is…” she smiled, recalling Malcolm’s words “…extraordinarily resourceful.”

  Vranas looked to the military leaders. “And taking into account this new information, what are our odds?”

  Gianno gave the tiniest shrug. “Improved.”

  Rychen was practically beaming; he badly wanted another shot at the enemy. “Improved.”

  Everyone was staring at her, for she had not yet given her formal opinion. “Still low—but most decidedly improved.”

  Vranas drummed fingertips on the desk, then stood and turned his back on the group to stare out his window. “We—humanity—didn’t come this far by being afraid. Explorers and visionaries have willingly headed off to certain death for thousands of years and by doing so brought us to where we are today. No one has ever told us ‘no’ and succeeded in making it stick for long.”

  He faced them once more. “We accede to these aliens’ demands and we’ll wither away. It may take centuries or even millennia, but we’ll be so busy cowering in fear we’ll forget to move forward. I say we fight.”

  Brennon chuckled wryly, almost to himself. “I agree.”

  No further dissent followed. Brennon straightened his shoulders and notched his chin upward. “So there it is. We’ll want to—

  We require your answer.

  Brennon and Vranas shared a last, solemn look and nodded to one another. Vranas cleared his throat so his response would project strength and conviction.

  “And you shall have it.”

  He gestured to Gianno and across to Miriam in a manner which said, it’s your show.

  Miriam stood. “Field Marsha
l Gianno, are your forces in place above Brython?”

  “They are indeed, Fleet Admiral.”

  “Excellent. Open fire.”

  TRANSCENDENCE

  AURORA RISING BOOK THREE

  * * *

  BACK COVER BLURB

  What does it mean to be human? What if the price of saving humanity is giving up your own?

  The year is 2322, and we stand upon the precipice of extinction.

  The invading Metigen armada has decimated the eastern third of settled space in a matter of days, leaving tens of millions dead. Determined to save the heart of human civilization, Earth and Seneca at last put aside their differences to face the threat together. But even this may not be enough to stop the fleet of colossal dreadnoughts inhabited by advanced AIs.

  Alex Solovy and Caleb Marano hold the key to defeating the invaders, for they know the secrets the aliens wage war to protect. Now they face a deadly gauntlet of relentless alien hunters and assassins sent to kill them before they can unleash a potent new weapon. They will risk everything in a bid to save their families, their loved ones, the entire human race—even if it means they can’t save each other.

  The lines blur between man and machine, ally and enemy, and soldier and civilian. In a final stand against an ancient, powerful foe intent on eradicating it from the universe, humanity comes face to face with its destiny.

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  RICOCHET

  PART II

  BLINDSIGHT

  PART III

  EMERGENT

  PART IV

  RISE

  PART I:

  RICOCHET

  “What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

  — Charles Bukowski

  1

  SENECA

  CAVARE, INTELLIGENCE DIVISION HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  THEY WERE LOSING.

  Field Marshal Gianno said they were winning, thus the Defense Director said they were winning, thus Chairman Vranas said they were winning. But if they were truly winning, why did the air drifting through the hallways of power hum with an undercurrent of dread, with the whispered chant of metaphorical Last Rites?

  No, Director of Intelligence Graham Delavasi decided as he reviewed the dwindling list of Oberti’s contacts not yet arrested or cleared of involvement in the Aguirre Conspiracy, they surely must be losing. There had never been much hope of winning, he mused, but they had to try. Humans were stubborn that way.

  His focus continued to ricochet between the two trains of thought—war in all its bloody tragedy and betrayal in all its icy malevolence—when the alert leapt into his vision to jolt the focus in a new direction.

  Treadstone Protocol requested. Passphrase: The first and greatest punishment of the sinner is the conscience of sin. ID: D41571

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Caleb Marano was alive.

  He didn’t question the reason for the protocol’s invocation. Questions would be for later, and the rules triggered by the invocation were both clear and strict in any case. He accessed the Intelligence Division’s Level V security layer and initiated a new Treadstone Protocol Event.

  A number of things happened next. The Senecan Planetary Defense Grid received an instruction to approve passage of the ship bearing the serial number designation EACV-7A492X, as indicated in the file attached to Marano’s message. A bunker so secret it didn’t have a name was activated, its on-call staff ordered to report and its security system similarly authorized to permit entry to the same ship. Four high-level security officers were requisitioned and directed to prepare for departure. Graham canceled his appointments for the next twelve hours.

  Only after setting all the above in motion did he respond to the message.

  Authorized. Your word is ‘tendenza.’ The response is ‘corrente.’

  Then he grabbed his trench coat from the windowsill and his Daemon from the desk drawer and headed for the rooftop landing pad.

  Wind buffeted the blue-black water to a froth five meters below the shuttle. They flew low and without lights to minimize the chances of detection. Clouds from a gathering rainstorm blocked most of the reflected light from Seneca’s moon—a fortuitous boon to their efforts at stealth. It was a night made for clandestine encounters.

  The bunker hovering twelve meters above Lake Fiore opposite the Cavare waterfront was supported by twelve hefty deep-driven posts. Disguised as the residence of a wealthy recluse, the heavily fortified structure supplemented the natural defenses the water provided with a military-grade force field extending fifty meters in every direction and four rooftop SAL turrets masquerading as ornate bronze sculptures. Any vessel not possessing currently active authorization would be denied entry by the force field—and the turrets if necessary.

  Division, the Military Council and the Cabinet shared use of the facility. Even so, it had been utilized on average less than once a year. The criteria for its use were quite narrow.

  The protocol Marano invoked was one Division agents possessing Level IV clearance and above retained access to but few ever used. It signaled the highest level of threat to the interests of the Federation and demanded absolute secrecy—a total blackout of information. Above all, it requested protection.

  The shuttle banked into the large hangar that stretched beneath the length of the elevated building. It was empty; his guests had not yet arrived. But the Planetary Defense Grid had tagged their entrance five minutes earlier and his message to Marano included the coordinates of the bunker, so he expected them to arrive before long.

  Graham turned to one of the security officers who accompanied him as they exited the shuttle. Thus far none of them knew who they were to be protecting. At the bunker they were under a communications block bypassable solely via a unique code, so they would not be sharing the information he was about to divulge. He trusted the officers, but the Treadstone rules were both clear and strict.

  “I’m providing you the files of our expected guests. Get started constructing new identities for each of them.” The man accepted the files and orders without question and headed upstairs.

  “The rest of you, stay below. They’ll be here soon.”

  The ship sliding into the hangar cut a sleek profile, featuring sweeping curves leading to acute edges.

  On seeing it Graham scowled in surprise, and surprises were not welcome in this setting. The hull gleamed a rich tungsten hue with a subtle pearling quality, yet the file said it should be muted ebony. Odd. But it possessed the correct authorization and matching serial number designation and otherwise fit the description…so another question for later.

  The three officers with him trained their Daemons on the hatch as it opened and a ramp extended. Though none were likely to occur, the circumstances which could lead them to use those weapons were legion.

  A man and a woman descended the ramp, hands in full view and displaying no surprise at the weapons trained on them. They matched the images from their files—but appearances could be masked.

  When they reached the hangar floor the man came to a stop a respectful distance from Graham. “Division Level IV Field Agent Caleb Andreas Marano, ID number D41571, requesting Treadstone Protocol protection for myself and my companion, Alexis Mallory Solovy, Earth Alliance citizen. The word is tendenza.”

  “The response is corrente. Protection granted.”

  He signaled to the officers to lower their weapons, then relaxed his posture and offered a hand. “Graham Delavasi, Director of Division. Welcome home, Agent Marano.”

  Caleb brandished an easy smile as he shook Graham’s hand. Though he favored his father only at the margins, the smile was pure Stefan—enough so it jarred Graham briefly. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

  “Something tells me the honor is more mine.” He shifted his attention to the woman as she stepped up, and repeated the action. “Ma’am.”

  Her expression was guarded, her palm cool to the touch. “Alex Solov
y.”

  “Indeed.” One of his men appeared carrying two small devices and handed them over. “Military-issue personal shields for you both. Put them on now and don’t take them off. When you’re ready we can go upstairs.”

  “One second.” Solovy adjusted her shirt over the shield generator as she went back to the hull of the ship. She input a series of commands in the small panel to the right of the hatch before returning to Marano’s side. The ramp retracted and the outer hatch closed.

  Then the ship vanished.

  “Bloody hell!” He sensed the officers’ weapons come out again behind him, and his hand instinctively went to his own.

  Marano laughed. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  “How in the…is it still there?”

  “Step closer.”

  Graham joined the man and they walked toward where the ship had been. Abruptly it materialized mid-step, three meters in front of him. Frowning, he took a step back. It vanished once more.

  He gave the all-clear to his men. “Care to explain?”

  Marano shrugged. “Just a new toy we borrowed from the aliens.”

  “Is that all?” Graham shook his head as he motioned them toward the lift. “You can tell me about it—after we discuss a few other matters.”

  The lift took them to the main level. On the outside the structure might be a fortified bunker, but on the inside it rivaled a five-star luxury suite. A well-appointed sitting room with a couch, two chaise lounges and a formal dinner table stretched across the left side of the level. A large ornamental fireplace divided it from the command center occupying the right side. The far wall contained a bank of screens and individual control panels for each. A conference table with elegant but comfortable chairs ran down the center of the work area.