The IX

by Andrew P. Weston

  Ayria whistled in relief. “Well there you go,” she muttered, “at least we have some breathing space. Although astronomy and physics weren’t my exact fields of science, even I’m aware that pure iron is extremely hard to come by. Believe me; I know exactly how Saul and Mohammed will react when I present them with this little bombshell. But at least I can soften the blow by stressing we’ll have time to look into different options while we search for any impact sites of relevance.”

  Stained-With-Blood shook his head. “Ah, that’s just it. We don’t have time. Remember? The vision showed an approaching flood, one that will sweep away all life under the red sun. Unless we act swiftly, urgently, all will be lost. And really, we haven’t any excuse to delay.”

  “Why? Do you know where we’re going to find a weapon forged in the heat of a meteor strike? They’re very rare.”

  “They certainly are, child. But I know exactly where such a device can be obtained.”

  In one fluid motion, Stained-With-Blood came to his feet. Reaching behind his back, he displayed the tomahawk he always carried. Gazing past the decorative ribbons and feathers adorning the axe, Ayria concentrated on the smoothness of its dull, gray-black surface. Her eyes widened in recognition.

  “This is Heaven’s-Claw,” Stained-With-Blood announced. “I made her from the remains of a star fall when I had only recently come to manhood. With it, I made the many kills that earned me my clan name.”

  Bowing formally, he held the tomahawk out to her. “I doubt she will be used as such again. Please accept this boon, and learn how she may be used to forge the salvation Napioa has foreseen.”

  Numbly, Ayria held out her hands to receive the weapon. As her fingers curled around the smooth, cool metal, she could only think of one thing.

  Nana! What the hell do I do now?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Eggs in a Basket

  Angule of the Unium Tier peeled back the superficies between mediums and stomped his way, flaring and spitting, onto the dais within the Hall of Eclectic Spheres.

  The abruptness of his arrival jarred the senses of the entities lining both sides of the causeway. Waiting for the release of absolution, they had no choice but to endure the bitterness and frustration radiating from him in waves as he bristled past. The intensity of those emotions struck them like a physical blow, provoking a backlash of the basest, most primal energies imaginable.

  Despite his agitation, Angule had no wish to see his lesser Kresh expend themselves in wasted expression. Patience, your time will come, he crooned. As gently as possible, he released the wash of a soothing balm across their umbilical membranes.

  Pacified, the massed host of the third level withdrew into a vast ocean of barely restrained brooding malice before resuming their slumber.

  Angule paused to survey the heaving mass surrounding him. Too many remain in idyllic ignorance, unaware of the travesty that has befallen us. We must act soon, or be forever lost.

  Behind him, the vext shimmered again, and Raum of the Duarium Tier materialized upon the podium. Angule flashed a warning as she manifested. Forewarned, the younger entity managed to rein in her feelings before they could agitate the simmering nursery to violence.

  He watched her approach. Raised from innocence only three cycles ago, Raum’s aura betrayed the signs of one newly assigned to her position. The nimbus of her essence had a tendency to stray into the lighter spectrum whenever she became overly excited. The fledgling flames of her coronet still stuttered on the occasions she was forced to pierce the root of the quantum-matrix. But that would pass. She had already acquitted herself well under very trying circumstances. Angule had witnessed her acting without hesitation to preserve the interests of her race, although it had cost some of the infants their lives.

  Yes. She’ll mature into a Kresh of the first order. I wish we had more like her.

  He waited for her to approach.

  Her senses skittered across his receptors. Lega’trix, she whispered in greeting.

  Tribunus. Opening his thoughts, he referred to their failure, and probed: So, how do you feel that went?

  Frustrating. We were caught unawares and responded by instinct. That was most unfortunate.

  Did you expect any other reaction?

  Had we the chance to formulate a less aggressive approach? Possibly.

  Interesting. Angule considered his companion closely. Explain.

  One among their fighters appears to be sympathetic to your emotions. The intent behind your actions. That is an avenue to be exploited. Others of the higher Kresh have also experienced a similar state of unifex toward certain individuals they perceive within the city. Especially from among the new sources. We must find a way to bridge that gap.

  Angule was impressed. Privately, he thought: Yes indeed. She has great potential. Let’s hope it hasn’t blossomed too late. Aloud, he admitted: We might have an advantage there.

  How?

  Haven’t you heard? The lost children are no longer restrained by oblivion. The more cognitive of our brethren among the third rank can no longer sense their presence within confinement.

  How reliable is that intelligence?

  It’s dependable enough. Mamone’sh and Orias are among the host assailing the barrier. They are rapidly approaching enlightenment. If they avoid unmaking, it is likely they will be advanced enough to leave the Trianium and join you among the ranks of the Duarium within the next cycle. By a cunning use of strategy, they were able to confirm neither presence remains within the fabricated density. They also uncovered a few other surprises as well.

  Such as?

  While the residual taste of a single immolation does taint the lattices, they can only detect that one. So, it is highly likely someone got through. We don’t know who at this stage, as the wall creates too much interference. Nonetheless, it presents all sorts of possibilities.

  But won’t they be suffering from identity fracture? Raum’s comment displayed a keen awareness of the disorientation emergence caused. And won’t they be dangerously unstable?

  For a while, yes. But that’s unavoidable. However, some of us within the Uniam think the process will be muted in this case. Remember, they were the first to be afflicted and never underwent full transmutation. Somehow, the density of their prison arrested the change and held them in limbo. We’re hoping sufficient residual memories remain intact for whoever survived to establish some form of détente.

  That’s a big risk to hang the future of everything on. Especially now the ruptures may start all over again.

  There is that, Angule conceded bitterly. And it concerns me, for not all of the Uniam are in agreement. Some promote a more . . . drastic course to reestablish equilibrium. It’s so frustrating. You saw it. If I’d had just a little more time, or perhaps made the approach on my own, I might have been able to get the human to understand me. To warn him of the danger. I refuse to accept this is just wishful thinking. We have to work together. Or die.

  Lega’trix, it’s our nature to crave the energy that restores a measure of lucidity. Without it, our infants in particular are driven mad. Crazed. Insensible. Savage. Even as we regain some semblance of control and advance toward illumination, the impulse to gorge is still there. I should know, for I emerged only recently. When faced by such instinctive rage, is it any wonder the humans respond with violence? Especially now they’ve discovered the anathema of our codex and seek to exploit it.

  Nature or not, I don’t like the prospect of what we face. If we are unable to establish peaceful contact, and soon, the others may decide the more direct solution is the only viable option. That won’t be good for anyone. Angule’s aura brightened in hope. At least our failure brought some good news.

  In what way?

  Well. Whatever happens, everything we need now lies within the city. As long as we remain patient, don’t overreact, and exercise caution, we may at last achieve an outcome acceptable to all. In fact, I might even make an approach toward the new settlements t
he humans think they’ve established without our knowledge.

  But will the others agree?

  Gesturing his subordinate forward, Angule suggested: If I act swiftly, they won’t have much choice, will they? Care to join me?

  *

  Mark Stevens gasped. “Well, that was unexpected!” He turned to the scientists clustered around the main view screen. “And you say this happened, what? Just under an hour ago?”

  “Yes. We didn’t want to disturb you at the time, as you were still directing the deployment of the final batch of mines,” Bob Neville explained. “But do you understand now why we wanted you to see it? I’ve been here over ten years, and none of us has ever witnessed anything like it. For example . . .” Bob skimmed the feed backward. “Watch this.”

  The frame froze on the moment both Horde Masters materialized out of the portal, close to the Promulus and Tarion Star. Bob continued, “This is the first time we’ve ever had an opportunity to study two of them together. Tell me, do you notice anything?”

  Mark leaned in, adjusting the focus and timeframe by twirling his finger backward and forward across the pad. Okay, so we’ve got a couple of their . . . hang on! Is that . . . ?

  He tweaked the resolution until the pixels became ultra clear. “Do we have any more images from the other flyers to confirm this?”

  “Certainly,” Bob replied, “hang on a second.”

  A secondary screen next to the main monitor flared to life, revealing several pictures within picture. Each showed a similar shot, taken from different angles. Mark studied them closely before venturing a guess. “Are you referring to their obvious differences? Not just in size, but the intensity of their auras?”

  “Perhaps. Look again. This time, concentrate on their diadems.”

  Mark did so.

  The larger of the two ogres had a clearly defined coronet that blazed brightly about its head. Seven miniature conflagrations, like orbiting novas, revolved about a defined matrix. The micro-suns left a bright scarlet and gold smear across the screen as they danced serenely by. On this magnification, Mark could see a pearlescent halo surrounding each point of light.

  He tapped the mouse to change view. His eyes widened. This Boss was graced with a garland of only four flames. Although bright, it was immediately apparent they were not as intense as those possessed by its companion, and they revolved about the monster’s crown at an accelerated pace. Additionally, the entire corona of the beast flickered each time it displayed any overt signs of power.

  Mark zoomed in on the wreath itself. None of the lights possess additional nimbi. It’s almost as if they’re not strong enough to generate one yet.

  “What do you think?” Bob pressed. “We’ve got some ideas, but want to get your thoughts as a military man.”

  Mark was stunned. “If you’re asking my opinion as a soldier, I’d say that’s a form of rank designation. It seems to tie in with their auras, too. The paler one obviously isn’t as powerful as the larger, more defined Master.”

  “That’s what we assumed, too,” Bob admitted. “Thank you for that, Mark. It confirms our latest theories that the Horde are far more intelligent than we believed. The very presence of a rank structure reveals an organization to their society that was previously overlooked. That’s why this makes so much more sense now . . . .”

  Bob manipulated the controls to show the moment the senior Controller placed its hand onto the decking of the Tarion Star. The crawling web of energies skittering across the surface of the ship dulled almost immediately, while the aura of the Master intensified.

  Mark remembered the stark reality of this incident from the replay he’d watched a few minutes ago. Seeing as they’re showing me this again, it’s clear I’m meant to ignore the obvious. “Okay. What are we really looking at?”

  As Bob repeated the process, the assembled scientists crowded round to get a better view. Bob said, “We initially thought the ogre was trying to feed. But in the past, whenever they’ve begun consuming an energy source, they’re unable to stop until whatever it is they’re draining is totally depleted. That’s not the case here . . . .”

  He allowed the feed to play on. As if the scales had dropped from his eyes, Mark watched as the scene ran its course. When it finished, all heads turned toward him.

  Seriously? He snorted in disbelief. The damned thing was shielded, so it probably wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference had Stu opened up anyway. And it could have reached out and simply yanked him off the ship. But it didn’t.

  On impulse, Mark reached out and played the moment over again. Then he allowed the feed to progress up until the moment the Horde Master retreated.

  Look how slowly it reached out. It was emphasizing it wasn’t there to attack him. And when Stu got twitchy, it simply let go and walked away as if the machine gun full of iron bullets behind it wasn’t worth bothering about. Hang on . . .

  Mark zoomed in, transfixed, as the Tarion Star lifted into the air. The Controller paused, and could clearly be seen staring upward. Its eyes suddenly blazed.

  What was that? The only other thing in the air was the Promulus. What was it doing?

  A thrill trickled its way along Mark’s spine. He turned back to the people gathered about him.

  “Do you see why we wanted you to take a look?” Bob asked.

  “I do. Bob, get me Rhomane on the line. I’m sure they’ve already seen this, but we have to make sure they understand what they’re looking at.”

  *

  Saul Cameron was in seventh heaven. He knew he should try to keep his feet firmly on the ground, but a party mood had seized everyone in its clutches and he couldn’t help but join in.

  Not only had the operation to retrieve the starships gone well, but the first shipment from the Shilette Abyss had arrived exactly on time, just an hour ago. This entire mission was planned around the convoy’s progress, and while I knew the presence of so much iron ore would act as a huge deterrent, I couldn’t take any chances. Talk about working like a dream. This heist was the ultimate distraction.

  As he wound his way through the crowd in the marshaling yard, Saul studied the latest report from the mining site.

  I can’t believe how well things are going lately. Just look at what Marcus has managed to achieve. Saul flicked down through the précis. His base of operations seems nigh on impregnable. There are further deposits ready for exploitation. We have a prepared schedule for regular shuttle runs to implement. And a divided bunch of misfits have been molded together into a productive team. Jesus! Even Smith and his cronies are pulling their weight and making friends.

  Saul stopped to scratch his head in wonderment. Several people following closely behind were taken by surprise, and walked into him.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. Tiberius and Lucius will have a tough act to follow if they want to keep things running the way they are. And look at this. In a few days we’ll have a live-time link into the encampment itself. Now that will prove to be a godsend . . .

  He paused again, peering through the press toward the icing on the cake. Especially with the latest chicks we’ve gathered into the fold.

  The starliner Promulus and freighter Tarion Star took pride of place on the city’s launch pad. Both ships looked as if they were brand-new and open for inspection, thanks to the energies of their recently activated exo-webs, which had burnt away all traces of years of accumulated detritus.

  A huge mob of technicians and sightseers crowded around each craft, and the atmosphere had escalated into one of near jubilation.

  Saul caught sight of Marcus himself, talking to several Caledonians.

  I’ve got to get him on the command team. His achievements are . . .Then he realized who one of those clansmen was. Cathal MacNoimhin. Oh shit!

  Marcus’s expression suddenly hardened. Even at this distance, Saul could see the man’s whole posture tense as his face flushed dark red.

  “Marcus,” Saul called across the heads of the throng, “Ma
rcus Brutus!”

  It was no use. The crowd was simply making too much noise.

  Ah hell. I told Cathal I wanted to be the one to break the news.

  Saul watched as a heated exchange took place between the two men. The outburst was brief. Within moments, the Legion commander had composed himself and appeared to be apologizing to the Iceni leader and his followers. His offer was readily accepted by the highlanders, who took it in turns to share handclasps with him.

  One of them noticed Saul approaching through the crush. Nudges were exchanged, along with words of warning. Ignoring the concerned looks of those about him, Marcus immediately spun away, made eye contact with Saul, and drew himself up to his full height. Thunder congealed on his brow. Without a moment’s hesitation, Marcus ploughed through the intervening press as if they didn’t exist. His gaze never wavered from his target, and he didn’t blink once.

  Saul decided to wait and let the man come to him.

  It didn’t take long. More and more people looked toward them as they noticed a change in the ambient mood.

  “Saul.” Marcus extended his arm in greeting.

  “Marcus,” Saul replied, accepting the embrace. “We need to talk. Somewhere private would be best.” It wasn’t an invitation.

  “That, I can appreciate.”

  Although Marcus didn’t look away, Saul noticed the other man’s eyes glaze over as he allowed his peripheral vision to take in details of their surroundings, and the reaction this confrontation was causing amongst onlookers.

  “Please lead on,” the legionnaire invited, “I am keen to discover the circumstances of my compatriot’s death, and what progress you have made in determining the identity of his killer.”

  Turning on his heel, Saul surprised Marcus by heading toward the Promulus instead of the main building. The soldier fell in behind. As they worked their way through the crowd, both men exchanged pleasantries with passersby.

  All about them, people relaxed again.

  Saul was impressed. Just look at the effect his example has on others. They can see he’s upset. And who wouldn’t be? He’s just got back from an overwhelmingly successful mission to discover a close friend has died under the most suspicious circumstances. It’s enough to sour the best of men. But instead of causing a scene, which he knows would be bad for morale, he’s managed to strangle his personal feelings down, and keep his opinion to himself until we’re away from flapping ears.