The IX

by Andrew P. Weston

  Taking a crafty peek at the man next to him, Saul came to a decision. Yes, I’ll have a word with Mohammed and the others tonight. The sooner we get this man on the command team, the better.

  *

  “No! You don’t understand,” a troubled voice yelled. “Keep away from the damned things. Stay away, I tell you. Don’t you realize what . . . Don’t you . . . Aaargh!”

  Everyone started as a metallic tray and its contents bounced off the triple layered, poly-resin screen. Several burly orderlies rushed into the room to restrain its highly emotional occupant.

  “Do you see why I paged you?” Louise Smart, the duty nurse hissed. “One moment he was absolutely fine, asking all sorts of weird questions about life in our era and what it involved — of all things, how we prepared food in the twenty-third century and what it tasted like — and then we came in here to do his weekly blood work, as usual. He’s used to the routine now, and collects the hypo-syringe and swab patch for us. Anyway, he sauntered over to the equipment locker, which as you see is over by the window. And when he glanced out, he totally freaked. I mean . . . look at him.”

  Ayria gawped through the observation port. A distraught James Houston was pressed against the external pane. Tears streamed down his face as he stared in wide-eyed horror at something outside. He tried to claw his way through the glass, frustration clearly mounting by the second.

  He’s working himself into a frenzy.

  The porters closed on him. Houston saw them at the last moment and screamed in panic.

  “Why won’t you listen to me? Don’t you . . . The danger. It’s . . . oof!”

  The charge-hands pounced and hustled him to the floor, knocking the wind from his sails. He kicked and thrashed wildly, as if the devil himself were tormenting him.

  Ayria dithered, appalled. She had been on her way to Mohammed’s office with Heaven’s-Claw when she received the call to attend the medical wing. Responding immediately, Ayria had completely forgotten to return the tomahawk to her mentor. Glancing at the axe, she thought, what the hell shall I do with this?

  “Wait!” she yelled. “Be as gentle as you can. Try not to hurt him.”

  Tossing the weapon to one side, Ayria rushed into the room and knelt beside her stricken patient. “James?” she crooned. “James? It’s me, Ayria. Ayria Solram.”

  As she spoke, Ayria stroked his forehead with her fingers and brushed the hair from his eyes. My God. He’s sweating like the proverbial pig. “James, I’m here. I’m listening. Tell me what’s wrong. What’s trying to hurt us?”

  Houston didn’t appear to hear. His gaze penetrated her and seemed to focus elsewhere, far off in the distance.

  “Help me,” she said softly, “how can I protect myself from something I don’t know about? You’ve been making such good progress. Don’t stop now.”

  Houston’s disjointed comprehension appeared to gel. He wriggled an arm free and reached out to seize her by her wrist. “That’s what I’m trying to . . . I’m trying . . .”

  He’s losing it again. Ayria came to an instant decision.

  “Let him go!” she commanded the orderlies.

  They complied reluctantly, and stood away.

  Houston eyed them suspiciously, as if he was certain they’d cut his throat given half a chance. Ayria tried to recapture his attention. Holding his face between her hands, she shouted, “James!”

  He jumped and glowered into her eyes.

  Calmly, she added, “Thank you. Now, where’s the danger?”

  “Outside!” he gasped. His focus had clearly returned. “Can’t you see? Can’t you sense it?”

  “No, I can’t. Why don’t you show me?”

  Scrabbling to his hands and knees, Houston skittered across the floor to bunch himself into a ball beneath the exterior window. He glared back at her and gesticulated wildly. “Be careful, Ayria,” he hissed. “Don’t relax your guard for one moment. We can’t . . . don’t let them . . . It’s awful. The isolation. The . . .”

  Houston’s voice trailed off as his concentration faltered yet again. His jaw flapped uselessly, and he appeared to forget what it was he wanted to say.

  C’mon, James. Stay with me. For God’s sake, don’t make me have to recommit you. “Shall I take a look? I’ll let you know what’s out there, and you tell me if we have to be careful. Okay?”

  Ayria stood and crept forward. As she neared the sill, Houston began rocking back and forth, mumbling to himself. Ignoring him, she braced herself against the frame and surveyed the scene below. Okay, here goes nothing.

  “James? I’m looking down into the marshaling yard. A huge crowd has gathered to welcome Marcus and his team back from the Shilette Abyss. There are four skidders down there full of iron, so we’re very well protected . . .”

  Houston continued to sway, and started to giggle, as if at a private joke.

  Okay, so it’s not that, then. “A lot of people are helping them unload. Cathal MacNoimhin and his Caledonians. Some of the Sioux and Apache braves. Oh, Mac’s there too, with the rest of his squad. They did a marvelous job, bringing back those ships intact. Just look at them. We’ll —”

  Screaming in terror, Houston leapt up from the floor. Taken by surprise, the porters froze, allowing him to shoulder his way past their position. Ayria felt as if time slowed about her.

  He teetered through the door and collided with Louise, who had remained standing in the entrance. They tumbled heavily to the floor. Somehow, Houston managed to roll forward and his momentum propelled him, headfirst, into a trolley full of medical supplies.

  The resultant crash brought everything back into perspective.

  Louise screamed.

  The charge-hands sprang into action.

  Too late.

  Clawing his way across the littered tiles, Houston fumbled about for support. Reaching up onto an examination bed, his fingers closed around something hard and smooth.

  Ayria’s hand leapt to her mouth. Oh no!

  Houston surged to his feet. His scrutiny fell upon the object in his grasp. The discarded tomahawk.

  The transformation was as shocking as it was immediate.

  Whirling on the spot, Houston’s face became a mask of adoration and awe. His chest heaved and for the first time in an age, he appeared to be in full control of his faculties.

  Ayria remained stock still. “James? You’re making everyone anxious. Please put the axe down.”

  The orderlies eyed each other nervously and continued edging forward.

  Louise backed away and scrambled for the main door.

  Ayria finally managed to get her feet moving.

  “James,” she called again, “don’t do anything rash. We’re here to help you.”

  Houston focused his gaze directly on her. Brandishing Heaven’s-Claw, he raised it toward her and in a tone laced with relief and victory, shouted, “Yes!”

  Everyone pounced at once.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Online

  “Initiate command override on my mark,” Ephraim Miller directed, “three; two; one; mark.”

  An abrupt whine announced the moment the power reserves died. The lights went out. Every screen went dark. A pregnant pause followed. Someone coughed nervously and people began to fidget. Then the drone of rebooting computers and generators filled the air, heralding the restoration of services throughout the city. One after another, monitors and equipment around the control center burst back to life.

  Ephraim’s gaze remained fixed on Brent Wyatt and Asa Montgomery as they completed their analysis of the reformatted systems. Both men were hunched over their terminals, transfixed in the glare of new information now downloading from the restored astrometric facility, and a multitude of other sources around the planet. In the dulled illumination of the room, their features bore the wide-eyed stare of mad scientists, and Ephraim couldn’t help but chuckle.

  He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “Well? Did it work?”

  Brent glanc
ed at Asa. Asa nodded, pressed a few buttons and stood back from his console, a satisfied look on his face.

  Brent surveyed the raw data, pursed his lips, and grinned. Straightening up, he flipped a switch. “All systems are now meshed. I’m transferring the information to your terminal. Get a load of this.”

  The command staff behind Ephraim crowded forward to take a look, forcing Ephraim to protest. “Ladies and gentlemen. Please. I know we’ve been waiting all week to implement these updates, but a little patience now will make all the difference. If I may?”

  Shouldering his way through the press, Ephraim accessed his computer and listed the fruits of their labors. His eyes bulged. My God! It’s even better than I imagined.

  Reactivating the main wall screens, he directed everyone’s attention forward. “Boys and girls, it would appear our efforts have been generously rewarded. If I could ask you to consider the center monitor first?”

  Everyone shuffled about to get a better look. Ephraim brought up an overview of the countryside surrounding Rhomane City, encompassing a fifty mile radius. As the image solidified, a number of red dots appeared. After a few moments, some of them started blinking on and off.

  “What are they?” Saul asked.

  “Those are way stations, Commander. As you know, at its peak, Arden had these facilities scattered across the surface of the planet. They were governed by the sentinel AI program, and acted as signal-come-energy relay posts for day to day communications and power distribution. They also housed a squadron of flyers for maintenance, aerial surveys, and security. Obviously, a number of them were lost during the invasion. But not all.”

  “Are the flashing ones active?”

  “Oh yes. Rhomane is surrounded by a fair number of such reserve centers, as are all the other major starports across Arden’s four main continents. And really, it stands to reason. They were at the height of their culture, so we can only imagine the volume of traffic their controllers had to regulate. And not just here, through local airspace, but throughout the entire star system. It helps explain why so many redundant facilities ring each city. When they realized what the Horde was doing, some bright spark ordered the standby stations you see here to power down.” Ephraim shrugged. “I can only imagine they hoped to use them again at a later date. In any event, their misfortune has provided us with an excellent tactical advantage.”

  “Why?” Mohammed asked. “Won’t our enemy sense they are now online and simply drain them as they did before?”

  Ephraim smiled. “Good point. Fortunately, one we no longer have to worry about, thanks to my team’s ingenuity.”

  Ephraim tapped a sequence into his keyboard, and a separate segment appeared within the right-hand side of the screen. In it, a distinctive oscillating pattern could be seen, flowing in a never-ending wave from top to bottom.

  “My friends,” he announced proudly, “this is Trojan. A digitized, highly compressed signal employing a modulating temporal signature. Over the past month, Brent, Asa, and Penny worked together to create a means by which we could transfer our latest security protocols to whatever posts are still operational. This is what they devised.”

  “And what’s it doing, exactly?” Mohammed pressed.

  “Why, it’s broadcasting the specific frequency of our combined null-point and chameleon shields. In effect, this carrier wave will cloak those facilities until we can get the flyers to drop an actual generator at each site.”

  Saul cut back in on the conversation. “So we’ll be able to use these way stations?”

  “We certainly will.” Ephraim beamed. He paused to skim the accompanying schedule. “In this locality alone, we have the following centers at our disposal: Ho’lam Island, out on Asterlan Lake, forty miles west of here; Grisson Gap, which you all know; the northern sector of the Tar’e-esh Forest, twenty-three miles east; Tar’e-esh Plain, just south of the starport; and of course, Boleni Heights itself. Remember, these are the stations that weren’t touched. As long as they remain under the protective umbrellas generated by the Trojan program, they’ll remain invisible to the Horde. And because they’re so close, we can get teams and flyers on site in a matter of hours. I tell you, they’ll make a big difference. For example . . .” Ephraim’s fingers flew across the controls once more, “tell me what you think of this little beauty.”

  The left-hand wall screen activated, showing an even larger image of the planet’s surface. The scale along the top showed they were now viewing an area nearly five hundred miles in diameter. Within it, more than half a dozen zones were tinged olive.

  A voice from the back shouted, “Ha! Iron.”

  “What makes you say that, Marcus?” Ephraim was intrigued that the legionnaire had made the connection before anyone else.

  “Simple common sense. Although this is the first time I have seen such a view, several features are well known to me.” Marcus strode forward and began explaining certain aspects everyone would be aware of. “That huge scar you see running across the surface of the planet is obviously the Shilette Abyss. A place very dear to my heart in recent weeks. The locale of our newest settlement governs a region known to possess one of the highest concentrations of iron ore on the planet.”

  Marcus drew their attention to the narrowest point of the canyon. “As you can see, the Rhomane to Genoas highway crosses the gorge at a point only five miles east of the encampment. That whole sector is green, corresponding to the mining site and surrounding ore beds we discovered throughout the Tar’e-esh itself, and the Esteban Sea. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection, especially when we also remember the lower grade deposits situated in the Erásan Mountains.”

  He pointed to another shaded patch not far from the Grisson Gap. “See? They match places we already know are iron rich. I can only assume the other areas also possess hematite, magnetite, goethite, and limonite in sufficient concentrations to be worth highlighting.”

  Ephraim was stunned. “Well done. You’re exactly right.” Addressing the rest of the command staff, he continued, “As Marcus correctly surmised, we are looking at a district that was once known as the Jurisdictional Prefecture of Rhomane. This entire province is littered with iron ore deposits of significant purity and abundance. One of the richest on the planet in fact, and that will —”

  “How do you know that?” Saul asked. “Excuse me for butting in, but we’ve been using antiquated city archives to guide us for some time now. How can you say for certain these areas still contain what we need?”

  “Because the satellites have confirmed it.”

  “What?” Saul was taken aback.

  Several other commanders began muttering among themselves.

  Then the meaning of Ephraim’s actual words registered with Saul. “Are you saying these images aren’t from patrolling drones?”

  Ephraim smirked. “No, they’re not. That was going to be one of my next surprises. People, may I present a little example of what Arden’s Global Satcom-net can do.”

  Ephraim entered another cipher into the console before him. All three main wall screens skipped channels to present a series of starkly different vistas. A palpable shock ran through the entire gathering. Several people gasped out loud.

  The first monitor showed the rim of a burnished orange-red sun emerging from behind the bulk of a majestic disc. The star’s corona burned brightly, casting a warm scarlet glow through the upper reaches of the atmosphere of the world below it. The planet itself appeared etched in liquid flame around its edges, while the majority of its mass was cast in mystery and shadow.

  The middle display revealed a similar scene but from a different perspective, this one being positioned above the terminator of sunrise and sunset. To the left of the picture, cotton-candy clouds swirled through a sea of sapphire-blue radiance. The crystal lens of the expanse was infused with vaporous trails of soul-wrenching tranquility. On the right, darkness dominated. Ebbing reluctantly under the relentless advance of dawn, it gradually surrendered its secrets. Noc
tilucent particles manifested themselves amongst the gloom, followed closely by the tallest mountain summits. Like beacons, they revealed tantalizing glimpses of the glory to come.

  The final screen faced out into a Jovian sea of purple-blue grandeur. An ocean of midnight silk upon which the luminescence of a billion astral sprites had been cast in random abandon. Each pinprick blazed coldly with an unadulterated purity that struck the hearts and minds of the gathered assembly with the force of a sledgehammer.

  Captivated, Ephraim became lost in the moment. Somewhere out there, a lifetime away, our real home sails serenely through the heavens . . . How ignorant we were of the dangers that exist, just a cosmic stone’s-throw away.

  “Are these satellites able to show us Arden in greater detail?” Marcus asked. “What is the term you use? Can they . . . zoom in and remain clear?”

  “They can indeed, my friend. For example . . . .”

  Ephraim presented them with a vision of remarkable scope. A solitary peak pierced the night. Protruding toward the sunlight like a symbol of hope, its alpine cap strained to free itself from the twilight mists congealing about its slopes in a miasma of serpentine possessiveness.

  The image wavered, and a closer view of that same pinnacle resolved itself. Now, the cobalt-blue frown of a granite leviathan stood forth in pristine clarity, peeking out from hoarfrost-covered brows. A snowy crown adorned the apex, and where the rock face greeted the dawn, it glittered cruelly, burning as if the entire edifice were ablaze within a skein of ice and flames.

  Above the slopes on one side, a huge bird of prey stretched its wings and soared amid the very epitome of serenity sublime made manifest.