by Spoor,Ryk E
The combined psionic and physical concussion lifted Vindatri from his feet and hurled him forty meters up, impacting with earthquake force on the ceiling; Vindatri floundered, trying to regain his bearings and control, as he began to drop back down, and that was when both Ariane and Wu Kung hammered Vindatri with blasts of energy that struck simultaneously at his center of mass.
The cloaked figure streaked like a meteor through the air, his robes now alight, and hurtled through the shattered picture window. Ariane rose from the ground and Wu Kung called the clouds, but even as they began to move DuQuesne could see that Vindatri had slowed, was recovering with hideous speed.
And then a voice spoke, not in his head, but from outside, a voice with the echoing power of a god …and the ironic, deep tones of Orphan:
“Goodbye, Vindatri.”
Four spears of intolerable coruscating brilliance eradicated the gloom with eye-searing intensity, all focused on Vindatri. The combined beams continued on, and DuQuesne felt Halintratha quake as four primary beams ripped a hole completely through the brooding, massive structure.
The inconceivable radiance faded …leaving nothing in its wake. For a moment all was silent, and then Orphan spoke—at considerably reduced volume—as Zounin-Ginjou slowly drifted into view.
“Consider this …my resignation from your service,” Orphan said.
Chapter 48
“Has the message torpedo been sent?” Simon demanded.
“Sent three minutes ago, Doctor,” Captain Fitzhugh said. “Remember that they have to absorb the intelligence we sent; they want to come out of the gates in the right positions, at the right speeds, and with a good idea of what they’re going to see, or it could be a disaster for them and us instead of the Molothos.” His back was tense. “But I sure as hell hope they get a move on.”
Even as he said that, three Molothos missiles evaded Freyja’s defenses and the warship detonated. “Dear God,” Simon heard himself say.
“Dammit! Menhit, ‘Oro, and Ogun, concentrate fire on their force designated M-17! They’re getting too close to Gate Six!”
“We’ll do our best,” came the deceptively smooth and calm voice of Captain Takei on the Polynesian-named ‘Oro, “but there are just a few more of them than there are of us. The minefield and the primaries have shaken them up, but I think they’re starting to recover.”
“Where the hell is Hachiman?”
Oasis gave a laugh, a heart-lifting sound on the desperate command bridge. “Driving the enemy nuts out there, ten o’clock high!”
Seven Molothos warships were chasing Hachiman, but even with superior numbers and a squadron of deployed fighter-craft, they were losing ground. The massive, kilometer-long Hachiman suddenly spun about—a maneuver that should have torn her apart, even if it were physically possible—and drove straight into the teeth of her pursuers, who scattered in desperate and uncoordinated directions to evade as she unleashed her primary beams in all directions. Suddenly there were three warships in pursuit, and Hachiman was driving through a cloud of expanding vapor.
Even knowing about the “Hyperion Advantage,” I can scarcely grasp what I’m seeing. Simply because Velocity Celes is at the controls, Hachiman is able to achieve speed and maneuverability completely beyond anything such a vessel should be able to survive.
But even that did not grant Hachiman invulnerability; the Liberated-gifted warship shuddered visibly as one missile detonated at the tip of one of the control vanes. We’ve lost one of our ten ships already; now Hachiman, Ogun, and Nayanazgeni are damaged, and three of the Molothos’ forty-nine-ship task forces are almost close enough to start bombarding the surface.
As he thought that, chimes rang through the air. “Gate Four activated. Multiple transits detected.”
A torrent of warships exploded from Sky Gate Four, moving at full speed and fanning out in a coordinated movement to englobe the Gate. Some of the ships were immense, five kilometer-long wedge-shaped monsters, which were disgorging clouds of one-person fighters, while others were sleek, daggerlike vessels that reminded Simon of the aesthetics of the Vengeance, not the Analytic.
Whoever was directing the Molothos’ fleet action was not asleep at the switch; almost instantly the Molothos’ vessels sheared off from their attack vectors, adjusting course and deployment to prepare for assaults from this new entry into the combat.
“Broad-band signal detected from the Analytic fleet, Captain,” said Lieutenant Reynolds from the comm station.
“Put it on, Lieutenant; I want to hear this. And if the Molothos answer, make sure that gets cut in.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The main viewport suddenly lit up to show Relgof standing before a command chair in the center of a huge operations center. “This is First Researcher Relgof Nov’ne Knarph of the Analytic, broadcasting to the Molothos force now assaulting the Sphere of Humanity and specifically to Dajzail, Leader of the Molothos. Break off your attack immediately or face the consequences of war—not merely with humanity, but with the Great Faction of the Analytic!”
It was, Simon thought, a credit to the ability of a Molothos to deal with sudden shocks that it only took twenty seconds for a second transmission to light up the other side of the viewport. “This is Dajzail, Leader of the Great Faction of the Molothos. We reject your empty threat. Retreat! This battle does not concern you, and you will not risk the war and inevitable defeat that comes with opposing the True People. I give you five minutes to comply and begin your retreat.”
Rel drew himself up taller, and his rough tenor voice was suddenly sinister and grim. “You misjudge the power and resolution of the Analytic at your peril, Dajzail of the Molothos. The Analytic has entered into a full and unfettered partnership with Humanity—attested to before the Arena itself—and injury done to them is now done to us. I repeat myself—break off immediately, or the Analytic and the Molothos are at war, and we shall place the full resources of the Analytic at the disposal of Humanity! You have two minutes to comply!”
Simon found himself holding his breath. Oasis whispered, “Do you think Dajzail’s going to blink?”
The transmission from the Molothos had not yet resumed. They are thinking; perhaps debating, arguing. “I hope so. I desperately hope so. A war between Great Factions will be terrifying, and cost the lives of so many on both sides. But …we cannot surrender, and I do not know if Dajzail and the Molothos—”
The massive red and black armored creature appeared again, and the razor-edged fighting claws gestured, a gutting slash of negation. “The Great Faction of the Molothos will not be intimidated or threatened, Analytic. You have three hundred sixty-three vessels added to their feeble forces. Even with their surprising weapons and an ambush, our forces utterly outmatch yours and theirs combined. Stay or flee as you will; Humanity must pay for their insults to the honor and power of the Molothos, and if the Analytic chooses to step between us and our rightful due—then war it shall be. Dajzail of the Molothos—ending communcation!”
Relgof was suddenly alone on the screen. His image flickered for a moment. “Transmission is now narrow-beam and encrypted.”
“It was worth a try, my friends. And I truly believe that they considered retreat; but their pride…” he spread his hands. “So now war it will be.”
“I’m sorry, Relgof,” Simon said.
“As am I. But not sorry for our choice.” He looked in the direction of his own viewscreen. “Only for the people—yours, ours, and even theirs—who are about to pay the price for that pride.”
Captain Fitzhugh nodded. “So am I.” As Relgof vanished from the screen, he turned to Reynolds. “Lieutenant, open a fleetwide secure channel.”
“Open, sir.”
“Combined Human-Analytic fleet, this is Captain Fitzhugh. Our attempt at a peaceful resolution has failed. Speaking honestly, we have virtually no chance to win, even with superior weaponry and the advantage of home ground and the various surprises we have prepared. The Molothos are going to take
this one. Our only choices are either to retreat …or to make them pay for our Sphere, pay in their ships and blood for every single one of our ships, every one of our people, that they’re going to kill today, tomorrow, and every day after that until they’re beaten.
“Because they will be beaten, I promise. The Analytic is on our side, and I think—I know—that we will find other allies. But today, we are—without a miracle—going to lose.”
He straightened and looked directly into the screen. “Retreat is an option. But we do not choose to take that option. The Molothos think they can destroy us, they think they can terrify us, with such numbers that even now they can send ten ships against our every one.
“I say they are wrong. We will make them pay for every millimeter of space they take. And we will not be terrified of them.”
He smiled coldly, and Simon was glad of Oasis’ presence nearby, even though Fitzhugh was his ally. “Ladies, gentlemen, allies—we will teach them to fear. All ships, all emplacements, free to target and fire. Hachiman, Triglav, Athena, draw fire and try to bring a force through minefield seven-two. Analytic forces, you’ve been given the secondary minefield deployments and IFF signals, all fields are active; make use of them.”
The Captain then turned to Simon. “Doctor Sandrisson, your knowledge of ship movements is now no longer needed; we can see what they are doing. I want you in the courier shuttle immediately. If it looks like we’re going to get hit, you’re going back.”
A part of him wanted to protest, but he felt Oasis’ hand clamp on his arm and knew he had no options. “Understood, Captain. But …wait as long as you can.”
“You want to see it all?” Captain Fitzhugh asked in surprise.
“In a sense …I did start all this. And if all these people are dying for what I began, and what I have seen …yes, I owe it to them to see it all.”
“All right. But go straight to the shuttle.”
As Oasis half-dragged him out, he heard the Captain command, “Helm, get us up to Gate Four. When we launch the shuttle I want Doctor Sandrisson to be able to go out and straight to transition…”
“It isn’t your fault, Simon,” Oasis said from next to him as they ran.
“I know. Yet I feel as though it is. Foolish, but true.” He looked at her grim but certain face as they ran. “You do know that Andraste is likely to be destroyed. We probably will never launch that shuttle, let alone escape.” The thought of Oasis dying—after everything she’d already gone through in her life—was at least as painful as the thought of losing Ariane. He found he was much less concerned with his own death; he had, after all, achieved so much.
“I know that’s what the odds say,” she answered, and there was a fleeting smile on her face, a momentary twinkle in the green eyes. “but whose rules do I play by?”
Simon suddenly laughed. “Of course. You play by yours, because this is your Hyperion kind of thing, isn’t it?”
“Hopeless situations, snappy one-liners, an escape from impossible odds, and saving my companion along with me? You bet!”
She laughed and dragged him forward, and he let a tiny smile lift the corners of his mouth. A war was nothing to celebrate.
But the thought that she would live was.
Chapter 49
Ariane stood staring, half-blinded by the afterimages of the four titanic beams. Then she turned around, feeling a smile of incredible relief spreading wider and wider across her face, and found both DuQuesne and Wu Kung there, hugging her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. “We did it. We beat him!”
“All four of us, yes,” DuQuesne said, laughing.
Subtle shadow fell over them, and Ariane looked around to see Zounin-Ginjou’s forward lock open and extend a ramp into the broken picture window. To her surprise, Orphan literally flew down the ramp and lifted all three of them in a momentary embrace before stepping back. “My friends, I am very glad to see you all intact!”
“Thanks to you!” she said. “My God, I never imagined he’d be that powerful. I mean, I knew he’d be strong, but…”
“I had somewhat more time to contemplate his potential power …but yes, he was even more than I had expected,” Orphan said.
“That was a heck of a brainstorm there, using the primaries on him. I hadn’t even thought of that,” said DuQuesne. “Not that it’s usually a practical approach, firing large-scale naval ordnance at one person.”
“Indeed—rather fortunately not practical, I would agree. And in truth, I confess I did not think of it at first.”
Wu Kung nodded. “I could smell it. You were running away, back there.”
“I confess it most completely. When Vindatri revealed his powers and you were matching him, I …fled. Quite abjectly terrified. You understand, of course, the usual attitude of an Arena resident such as myself towards risk, and how …one-sided the risks would be for someone without your …extraordinary gifts …in the middle.”
She remembered well how the average citizen of the Arena seemed to react to odds that a human being might risk without blinking …and this situation was one that would’ve made even a seasoned human warrior blanch and run. “Orphan, if I hadn’t had pretty much no choice, plus everything he’d taught me, believe me, I’d have been running right next to you.”
A buzz-chuckle and a deprecating flutter of the wings. “Ahh, Captain Austin, you must pardon me for doubting your kind imagery. Having see you dare such odds before, I suspect you would have still attempted to best Vindatri were you armed with naught but a spoon.”
DuQuesne’s laugh was a startled explosion of mirth. “I think you know Ariane too well for her own good.”
“Ha! That he does!” Wu Kung agreed, his fanged smile wide and cheerful. “But he does not add that the Captain would have won using that spoon!”
“Oh, stop it, all of you.” She felt a touch of heat on her cheeks. “Luck and balls only go so far. Well, okay, this time the luck was that we all had something he didn’t expect.”
“As it has been …rather dramatically …revealed to me, might I at least be given some explanation for the impossible?” Orphan asked. “You successfully hid these …unbelievably formidable capabilities from me for all the time of our association. And—I agree—completely justifiably. The fact they were unknown to me assured us that Vindatri, too, would be little if any less surprised than I, a rather crucial factor in this battle. But now that the secret is out …? ”
She glanced to DuQuesne. The towering Hyperion shrugged. “Maybe. Tell the rest of your little adventure first.”
Orphan gave his customary handtap of agreement. “Mine is, undoubtedly, the less difficult tale to tell. So, I fled in utter terror for my life, and great fear that Vindatri would still win—for he was not only powerful but ancient beyond our knowledge. I confess freely that when first I arrived in Zounin-Ginjou, my only thought was to launch and travel at all speed away from this place, never to return.”
Ariane really couldn’t blame him for the thought. “But you didn’t. Why?”
“At first …because I had made a promise, Captain. To DuQuesne, when he had provided me with a means of secure communication that, I believe, even you did not know of, that the Liberated would remain committed to your cause.”
“You are a being of your word! Good; that is something to build trust upon!” Wu Kung said.
“It is, in many ways, the foundation of the Arena,” Orphan agreed. “But even that …I was committed to your cause, but really, your cause was Humanity, not your individual survival—something all of you had shown, or told me, more than once. So even in fleeing I could do that—bring what I knew to Humanity, though I knew that talking freely about what I knew might well bring Vindatri against me as well.”
Orphan leaned back, supported by his tail. “Yet …I found that I did not want to leave you behind. You have, truly, become my friends. You have trusted and supported me, at times when it might well have been wiser to do otherwise. And …just perhaps …I feel a touch of r
esponsibility to you because you are—does this sound foolish?—my First Emergents.”
Ariane found herself laughing. “It sounds …human to me, Orphan. I mean, completely understandable. You found us. You brought us into the Arena. You helped introduce us to its wonders. In a way, we’re like your adopted children.”
The flickering buzz was translated as an embarrassed cough. “Your imagery …is even more apt than I had expected. Yes. Foolish, perhaps, but very real. As are your friendships.
“Yet even then I found myself frozen with indecision. I wanted to help you, but I knew that I had not a hundredth the power necessary. I saw Halintratha brooding about me, and thought that I had a better chance of striking at it than at Vindatri …and then, suddenly, I wondered if I could use the same weapons. After that I contacted you and, well, you all saw the results.”
“Spectacular results,” Ariane said with a grin.
“Spectacular …indeed,” agreed a faint, deep voice.
A fist of ice seemed to close around her heart as she whirled; DuQuesne cursed and spun; Wu Kung came on guard, and Orphan staggered back, his black and green coloration fading.
The towering figure stood not fifty meters distant, although—Ariane belatedly realized—“stood” was perhaps not the right term. Vindatri leaned heavily against one of the shards of debris scattered about the room, and his voice had lacked the majestic thunder usually characteristic of him. “Calm …yourselves,” he said, his voice now no longer that of a would-be god but of something ordinary, mortal, in pain. “You have won the battle. I am not your enemy …and in truth, I never have been.”
Wu Kung slammed Ruyi Jingu Bang so hard on the deck that Halintratha shuddered. “What makes you think you get to decide whether you’re our adversary or not? I—”
Wu Kung broke off as Vindatri slowly reached up and pulled back the hood that had obscured his face for so long.
Ariane heard herself gasp.