The IX

by Andrew P. Weston

  Stained-With-Blood nodded. “From what Napioa has indicated, yes. The salvation of both, or should I say all races on Arden would appear to be bound together. That we were brought here for this very purpose is obvious. It is also clear that Wind of the Sun—Ayria—is a catalyst for the process by which unity will be achieved.”

  “But you don’t know how that will occur?”

  “I’m sorry, no. I am a dream-walker. Not a charlatan. When the way is unclear, I have seen the course of wisdom in waiting for the Creator to reveal the correct path. Never have I presumed to interpret his will wrongly.”

  Saul found Stained-With-Blood’s admission comforting. And troubling.

  “I appreciate your frankness on the matter,” he responded. “I will return the courtesy. That you’re both sincere is obvious. I’ve been Ayria’s friend for quite a few years now, and she’s always been a solid member of our community. Reliable, dependable, and possessed of a great deal of common sense. You, on the other hand, I’ve only known for a period of months. Nevertheless, I can honestly say I’ve never a met a man with such integrity. You tell it as it is, and are never afraid to speak the truth. Even when it hurts. I trust you both. So you’ve put me in quite a pickle. Against my better judgment, there’s a part of me that can’t ignore what you’ve said. But can you imagine the reaction I’ll get when I put your proposals forward? The others will think I’m stealing meds from sickbay. So I need something . . . more, something concrete, to add weight to your request.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Look, let me think on it a while. I’ve got to try to get my head around it, because you’ve got to admit. It does come across as . . . well, a farfetched fairytale.”

  Stained-With-Blood bowed formally. “Of course, we understand. But don’t take too long, Commander, for time is not on our side. I would remind you of the fact that 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.”

  The respected warrior motioned for Ayria to follow him, and moved to take his leave. As they made their way to the door, he gestured toward the desk. “I will leave Heaven’s-Claw in your care for today. Please ponder on the significance of the role this totem may play. Use it to guide you to your decision.”

  “As a matter of fact, you might be able to use the axe as a prop to help persuade the others,” Ayria added. “Don’t forget how Houston reacted to its presence after the arrival of the ships. He’s . . . different since his accident. Changed in some way we haven’t been able to fathom yet. Why do the Ardenese spacecraft freak him out so much? What is it about Heaven’s-Claw that grounds him, and restores a measure of lucidity? I’m telling you, Saul. There’s a connection here, and someone’s got to try to fathom it all out.”

  The door closed, leaving Saul alone in the tranquility of his office once more. Too shocked to say anything, he allowed the details of the amazing meeting to spin around and around in his head until he felt he might spit in frustration. On impulse, he pinched himself. Ouch! I’m definitely awake then . . .

  But where does this leave me? As fanciful as it sounds, I can’t just dismiss their concerns. For goodness’ sake, they’re two of the most levelheaded people I know.

  The tomahawk caught his attention, and the lines of its dull, gray-black surface seemed to make him look within himself. Star metal. Pure iron. Fallen from the heavens. Sent to us from up above. A gift from . . . What am I thinking?

  A niggling worry wormed its way through the back of his mind. Is there a pattern I’m missing? Did it all start after the ninth arrived?

  One particular thought echoed in his head. What was it Stained-With-Blood said? “Don’t take too long, Commander, for time is not on our side. I would remind you of the fact that 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.”

  Before he realized what he was doing, Saul reached for the intercom button.

  I can’t take the risk. “Mohammed? Will you ask Mac to join me in my office in thirty minutes? I want you in on the meeting, too. Make sure you bring a compilation of memory crystals covering every one of the lieutenant’s missions from out at the starport. Combine them with the reports from the Boleni Heights crew, as well.”

  “Will do. What’s up? Anything special?”

  I’m going round the twist. That’s what. “You’ll see, my friend. If I were you, I’d bring coffee. Lots of it. I have a feeling we might be here some time.”

  *

  Tiberius Tacitus raced through the compound toward the middle of the camp, doing his best to ignore the looks of concern from those who were, as yet, completely unaware of the emergency.

  Following the custom of the Legion, the compound had been erected with security in mind. The most sensitive of the buildings, along with important personnel, were situated well away from the perimeter. That he was being called to the command center did not bode well.

  Just another day in paradise, he kept telling himself, just another day . . . please.

  Arriving outside the control room, Tiberius discovered his optio, Lucius Scipio, and an entire contubernium of ten men already in attendance. Their resident communications expert, Sebbi Farah, was also hovering nearby.

  More worryingly, he noticed a crowd was gathering uncomfortably close to the danger.

  Damnation! This can’t be good. “Lucius, where’s Staff Sergeant Cenus?”

  “I’ve ordered him to double the guard, bring the entire camp to the ready, and to send a squad of Lieutenant Smith’s men here on the double. You’ll see why when Sebbi explains things to you.”

  Tiberius turned his attention to the former terrorist leader. While he had been talking, she had crept forward and was now peeking inside the command building at something just out of his sight.

  What in Pluto’s name is going on?

  Realizing the centurion was waiting behind her, Sebbi backed carefully away from the entrance and ushered Tiberius to one side. Lowering her voice, she said, “It started about thirty minutes ago. We were all at work, and people started going down with severe nausea. Headaches, dizziness, feeling sick, and so forth. I thought it must be a bug someone picked up, or perhaps something they’d eaten. Then I started experiencing sudden bouts of vertigo myself. Every time it came and went, a tingling sensation crawled across my skin, as if I were covered in needles. Coincidentally, the equipment also began to fritz out. One second it was fine, the next we’d lose power and suffer signal degradation. At first I assumed it might be something to do with an atmospheric anomaly, or a solar flare. But the bursts kept coming in waves. That’s when it hit me . . .”

  “What did? What hit you?”

  “A similar incident witnessed by the Special Forces guy, Lieutenant McDonald, and his team out at Rhomane’s spaceport a few months ago. I’d read the mission report regarding what happened to him aboard the executive cruiser, Seranette.”

  “You mean the magical doorway generated by the Horde demon?”

  “That’s right. Call me paranoid, but I think we’ve got something similar happening right here. Its coalescing much more slowly than the ones we’re used to, but it’s definitely forming.”

  Tiberius gasped. “How? I thought our shields and the proliferation of iron in this region would keep us safe and undetected.”

  “We all did. Whether that’s the reason for the void’s slow manifestation or not, we’ll soon find out. But if I were you, I’d get one of those micro-gravity mines ready. Or a good half dozen, just in case.”

  A sound suggestion.

  Tiberius was about to issue the order when an unnerving sense of dislocation washed across him, forcing him to stagger and brace himself against the doorway. He leaned too hard and found himself spilling through the entrance onto the decking just inside the control room.

  “Tiberius!” Sebbi yelled.

  Others rushed forward to assist, but they were
too late.

  Allowing his momentum to take him, Tiberius rolled forward and came up onto one knee in a battle-ready posture. He drew his gladius and fought to regain his equilibrium, which for some reason still seemed caught in a whirlwind of vertigo-inducing motion.

  An asperity hung in the air before him. A rent in the very fabric of space that confounded the eye, set his teeth on edge, and made him want to spill the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

  A portal! Inside our defenses. I must warn the others . . . and Rhomane. If they can do this here, they might—

  The gyre flared and solidified into a more defined form. A pulse of light carrying the force of an earthquake radiated outward, bowling Tiberius over. He hit the ground hard, and his blade was knocked from his grasp. Clattering loudly across the floor, it came to rest against the legs of an adjacent computer station. He scrabbled forward, intent on recovering the only thing that might make a difference between life and death.

  Breathlessness gripped him, and it felt to Tiberius as if one of the gods of Rome had reached into his chest and squeezed the air from his lungs.

  Gagging for breath, he watched helplessly as a huge bulk manifested from out of the gateway. Wreathed in a scarlet and purple nimbus, its crown blazed brightly under the glory of the violet and blue flames that circled like dancing fangs about its head.

  I’m done for. And there’s nothing I can do about it except die like a man.

  Struggling to his feet, Tiberius charged the monster. A stifled gasp alerted him to someone behind him. He didn’t have time to wonder who had been foolish enough to follow him inside.

  The Horde Master anticipated his move. Reacting faster than Tiberius thought possible, the Boss swatted him aside like a bothersome insect. A moment’s agony, where every nerve seemed set ablaze in a sea of acid, ate its way into his soul. Tiberius collided with the opposite wall, bounced and fell, drained and exhausted at the ogre’s feet.

  Finish what you came to do! his mind screamed.

  The monster did exactly that, only not in the way Tiberius expected. Dropping into a crouch, the Controller slammed its paws together. A shimmering curtain bloomed outward. Rippling like water, it expanded to encompass the entire office, effectively sealing it off from the outside world. Once done, the Master took its time to survey its surroundings.

  Tiberius followed the ogre’s gaze as it came to rest on his gladius. The beast made no attempt to avoid it. Instead, it lumbered swiftly toward the discarded weapon as if it were a trophy to be claimed and cherished.

  A halo of concentrated power blossomed into view around the monster’s wrist. It stooped to retrieve the sword, exercising great care to lift the prized possession by its ivory hilt.

  Why is it not dying? How can it possibly survive the touch of . . . ?

  The Boss strode toward him. It stood within touching distance, brandishing the sword above him. Tiberius fought his way to his feet and braced himself. I’ll not die on my knees. “Get it over with,” he snarled.

  Instead of attacking him, the beast stabbed the tip of the blade into the floor. It carved a circle through the decking, around Tiberius. Once completed, it retreated a few steps before cutting another line, this one from left to right, in front of itself.

  With infinite caution, the ogre placed the weapon on the ground between them. Stepping back toward the vortex, it paused and drew itself up to full height. After prodding the tip of one talon against its chest, the brute pointed toward the line. Then it swept its claws forward and reversed its hand, so the spurs were uppermost. Its form flared into terrifying clarity. As it did so, it made an aggressive clenching motion and slammed its fist into the open palm of its other hand.

  Comprehension dawned in Tiberius. Noting his reaction, the Horde Master inclined its great head, reentered the portal, and vanished. As the asperity winked out of existence, so did the force field surrounding the command center.

  A clamor broke out as legionnaires and cavalrymen, all armed to the teeth, came piling in through the doors. Fanning out, they filled the interior of the room with iron, and a barrage of questions.

  Ignoring them all, Tiberius slumped to the floor and let the relief wash through him. Sebbi Farah lay huddled beneath one of the desks on the far side of the office. So, you were my mystery observer. He could see the horror and confusion etched across her features, and his heart went out to her for he felt exactly the same.

  She scampered forward through the press of legs and repeated offers of assistance and made her way to his side. Flopping down next to him, she hissed, “What the hell is going on? Why go to the trouble of expending all that energy to breach our defenses just to draw some symbols on the floor?”

  Tiberius laughed and shook his head. Not to be rude, but the simple release of tension was causing him to unwind in a time-honored fashion among soldiers.

  In response to her look of outrage, he said, “You mentioned before that something here was similar to what happened to Lieutenant McDonald at the spaceport. Especially the second time. It was almost as if the beasts were trying to communicate instead of fight, yes?”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  “Apart from the fact it didn’t try to eat us today, I think you may be right.” Cocking his thumb toward the signs, he added, “In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “Why? Did you manage to fathom what they mean?”

  “Oh, I understand only too well. About ten years before I was born, Gaius Popillius Laenas, a consul of Rome, was sent as an envoy to prevent a war between Antiochus IV Epiphanes of Syria and the citizens of Egypt. At the time, Egypt was a protectorate of our empire. For reasons unknown to me, the Macedonian didn’t think the senate would respond all that vigorously to his incursion. He was wrong.

  “Protected only by a small contingent of guards, Laenas met the pretender within the city of Alexandria, and told him in no uncertain terms to abort his attack and leave. Of course, Antiochus wasn’t impressed to be met and ordered away from his hard-won prize by someone he saw as a mere lackey. So he tried to stall for time. Imagine his shock when Laenas used his staff of office to draw a circle in the sand around the king. Not only that, Laenus delivered an ultimatum. “Before you step out of that circle, give me an answer to lay before the senate.” Of course, when faced with the prospect of conflict with Rome, Antiochus acceded. Only then did Laenas extend the hand of friendship and the possibility of peace.”

  Looking Sebbi directly in the eye, he concluded, “We’ve just been warned of an impending attack. And I’ve got the damndest feeling this visit was staged to make us aware that not all the Horde are happy about that. In fact, someone wants to extend an olive branch.”

  “From within their own ranks?”

  “It certainly looks that way. Which raises all sorts of questions, doesn’t it? Thankfully, much more agile minds than mine will get a chance to stew on it . . . .”

  Scanning the room, Tiberius located his optio among the growing press of people. “Lucius? Get me Rhomane on the com-link.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Weights and Measures

  “Before we draw this extraordinary meeting to a close,” Mohammed proclaimed formally, “would anyone else like to make a final statement?” He paused to survey the full complement of leaders and command staff the city had to offer. The debate had ground on for over three long hours, but he was impressed to find everyone still keenly alert and paying close attention.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  I thought he’d be the one to lead the way. “The chair recognizes Lieutenant Alan McDonald.” Mohammed gestured to the speaker’s circle. “If you please?”

  The battle-hardened warrior stood, and with the eyes of the crowd upon him, made his way down the steps. Some spectators murmured words of encouragement as he passed. Most remained silent.

  As Mac assumed his position, he was bathed in the ethereal glow of a gentle blue radiance. The metallic voice of the recording sentinel intoned, “You may speak.” />
  “I’m not going to drag things out,” he began, fixing both Mohammed and Saul with a cold, hard look. “We’ve split enough hairs, and been here long enough as it is. Nevertheless, there is something you need to consider when you deliberate your decision.

  “It may surprise you to know that despite my gruff exterior, I was a student of the classics in university. I’d like to share an aspect of the tale of Pandora with you, because basically, although most people have heard of Pandora’s Box, few actually know the history behind her story.

  “The fable tells us that the first human woman, Pandora, was created by the deities Hephaestus and Athena, who acted on instructions from Zeus. However, Zeus, in retribution for the theft of the secret of fire by Prometheus, ordered Pandora to be fabricated from the mundane elements of the earth. He felt it only right that his punishment upon mankind should limit Pandora’s power and influence over them. Hephaestus and Athena thought that cruel. Therefore, they saw to it that each of their fellow gods contributed a unique gift to Pandora’s makeup, hoping she would be a more philanthropic example to her kin. As a sign of their confidence, the deities entrusted a sacred jar into her care, within which lay all the evils of mankind. Who better, they thought, to safeguard such a device than she who was created to bestow beautiful gifts on others wherever she went?

  “You all know the story. Pandora became increasingly inquisitive as to the contents of the vessel in her charge. Although passing centuries and the retelling of this tale changed the identity of the jar into a box, the result is the same. Her curiosity got the better of her, and Pandora peeked inside. Thus were the woes of the world released, leaving only hope to battle against them. For as we now appreciate, once unleashed, they could not be bound or contained again.”

  “What’s your point, Lieutenant?” Mohammed asked. “And why would this parable have any bearing on our eventual decision?”

  “I don’t think you can see the wood for the trees,” Mac said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having a go. Things have been crazy around here lately, so it’s no wonder certain details got missed. But sometimes you have to take a step back and look at your objective from a different angle.”