The little robot finished up with the last three human soldiers. Then it zipped back into its place of concealment, plugging itself into a pair of wall connectors as it did so. An opaque panel slid down in front of it.
“You know?” the giant asked.
“I did come here from the future, after all,” Solonis said. He paused, thinking. “Of course, I first went there from the past.” He waved a hand. “It gets very confusing. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Yes—I know. And I approve.”
The giant stared down at him impassively, as if looking straight through him. “Your approval is irrelevant,” the big being stated.
“Likely so,” Solonis agreed, smiling. Then he sobered and turned to stare directly up at the giant’s dark eyes. “Do not mistreat them,” he said. “They show great potential.”
“Certainly more than any of the Dyonari ever have,” the giant rumbled, apparently choosing to ignore the implied threat. “Despite their telepathy and their other tricks, the Dyonari are weak of mind. They are arrogant and petulant. They lack the desirable traits these humans possess and they demonstrate considerable vulnerabilities to psychic manipulation and control.”
Solonis nodded. “They wouldn’t look good in the uniforms, either,” he said, before sitting down on the cold floor, cross-legged, to wait.
20
The humans awoke. It seemed to them that only a few moments had passed.
Agrippa groaned and pulled himself up to a sitting position. The Deising-Arry combat armor felt now like a millstone about his neck, dragging him down.
“You’re up. Good,” came the voice of Tamerlane from behind him.
Agrippa turned, rubbing at his eyes, and allowed the other general to help him to his feet. “What happened?” he asked, looking around quickly to make certain the others were all still alive. “Who or what was responsible for that—and what was it?”
“It was a concussion blast,” Solonis stated, striding up to them. “Detonated by our friend, the big gray fellow.”
They looked to where the giant had stood earlier, but there was no sign of him now.
“How do you know that?” Agrippa asked, frowning at Solonis.
The seer-god shrugged. “It didn’t work terribly well on me.”
“Why did he do it?” Tamerlane wondered aloud. “If he’d wanted us all dead, or simply thrown out of here, he could have accomplished either or both of those objectives while we were all asleep. Yet here we still are—and alive.”
“That is true,” Agrippa said. “Did he merely knock us out so that he could slip away while—”
They were interrupted as one of the officers of the I Legion to Tamerlane’s left suddenly exclaimed, “Ouch!”
Eyes turned in that soldier’s direction, but then another man on the far side of the group also cried out. Within moments, everyone present—including Agrippa and Tamerlane— had come to realize that he or she had been jabbed by something very sharp during their time spent unconscious.
“Set it aside for now,” Tamerlane ordered after a couple of minutes of asking around to be sure no one had been debilitated by the pokes they were discovering. It turned out that the jabs had mostly been administered in the legs or hips, and there were no serious complications. “We’ll figure this out eventually, but we have other priorities right now.”
Tamerlane and Agrippa formed up their two groups of soldiers and technicians and prepared to march out through the doorway and to the shuttle. Tamerlane then checked in with the captain of the Ascanius, who reported the local star had settled down a bit, and with the two techs who had resumed typing on the console panel. “Status?” he asked them.
“We just about have it under control, General,” one of them reported.
“We haven’t been able to entirely remove the base code,” the other added, “but we’ve pretty much got it down to a dormant state.”
“You make it sound as if it is alive,” Agrippa observed, walking up.
“It very nearly is, General,” the first tech said. “But I think we have it isolated and quarantined within the system, at least. As long as it remains trapped where we put it, everything should be fine.”
“Very well,” Tamerlane declared, nodding. “Then I believe it’s time for us to go. After all,” he added, “there is a war on.”
“Agreed,” said Agrippa. “Though I believe we should leave something of a garrison behind, to safeguard this place. Until we can determine a more permanent solution to the threat it poses.”
Tamerlane nodded. Together the two started toward the exit—only to realize that the doorway was closed. They stood before it but it did not open. Tamerlane, growing frustrated, turned to the panel of nearly incomprehensible buttons and markings on the wall adjacent to it. Agrippa, meanwhile, sought out Solonis.
“You were awake first, yes?” Agrippa said to the seer-god. “Why is the door closed? Who closed it?”
“The giant did,” Solonis replied. “I believe he desired privacy. He wanted to keep our Dyonari friends out.”
“Do you know how to open it?” Tamerlane all-but-demanded.
Solonis ignored the tone of the general’s question and moved up to the control panel. “Ah, yes,” he said. “‘I’ve seen this design before.” He reached out and tapped a few colored squares. “That should—”
The door hissed open, revealing the valley and an evening sky beyond.
“—do it. Oh..!”
Solonis stepped back, almost tripping over his own feet. Agrippa and Tamerlane brought up their weapons. The rest of the I and III Legion soldiers did likewise as they saw what—and who—was revealed standing just beyond the door way: A dark-haired, rugged-faced man clad in a black uniform, a golden stylized eye emblazoned on his chest.
“Gentlemen,” said General Ioan Iapetus of the II Legion. Behind him stood dozens of soldiers clad in the jet black of the Sons of Terra. Beside him crouched two of that number, packs of explosives in their hands, seemingly about to plant them. “Thank you for opening the door. You have saved me the trouble of blasting my way in.”
21
In high orbit, Captain Harras Dequoi sat in the command chair on the vast, three-floor-high bridge level of the I Legion flagship Ascanius and stared out at the green-white planet slowly rotating below. This operation had been, for the most part, dull thus far. Except for the sun almost going nova, he reminded himself with a humorless snort. Yes—except for that. But now things appeared to have calmed down remarkably. He had no problem with that. He assumed the generals down below on the planet’s surface had things entirely under control, and that the rest of the operation would consist of merely waiting to ferry the troops back aboard.
Alas, he was to prove utterly incorrect in that assumption.
“Contact!” shouted one of the tactical officers at the sensor station, both out loud and over the Aether. “Unidentified vessel dropping hyper—very close by.”
Dequoi jerked to full alertness. “Shields!” he barked. “Ready all defenses! Pilots to the fighters!”
As officers and support staff throughout the big bridge area moved into motion, preparing for any eventuality, Dequoi rose from his seat and moved closer to the main two-dimensional screen just ahead. It was a broad, curving rectangle set into the forward wall that mimicked the transparent steel viewport just below it. The ship was, unfortunately, facing the wrong way for either to be of much use at the moment. “Holographic display,” he ordered, and a second later the space between his seat and the viewscreen became filled with three-dimensional images of part of the planet, his ship, and the intruder vessel.
He didn’t need sensor or communications officers to confirm it; he knew exactly what the other ship was the moment he laid eyes on it. He’d played cat and mouse with it numerous times over the past few weeks.
“The Atlantia,” he growled. Flagship of General Iapetus and the II Legion—the traitorous Sons of Terra.
“So,” growled Commander Ehrens. “They survi
ved. And they’ve caught up to us.”
Dequoi didn’t reply. He saw no need. Both of the commander’s statements seemed obvious at face value to him.
“Atlantia is launching fighters,” the tactical officer reported.
“Launch ours,” Dequoi barked.
22
The three generals of the three great Imperial legions stood in a triangle, just inside the tower’s vast round control chamber. At Iapetus’s back was the open doorway, beyond which stood arrayed a large contingent of his legion, all in black and weapons at the ready. To one side sat some dozen Dyonari, now held prisoner of the Sons of Terra. Another dozen or so lay dead on the ground.
“Why did you kill them?” Agrippa demanded, nodding toward the Dyonari. He was filled with anger and no small amount of grief. “They were our allies.”
“They didn’t want to let me inside,” Iapetus replied sharply. “They got in my way.”
“What do you want here, Ioan?” Tamerlane asked, regarding the man with open distaste.
“It’s not your position to question me, Ezekial,” Iapetus growled. “After all, I am now the supreme military commander of the Empire, duly designated by the young Empress herself.”
“You mean the Princess—your hostage,” Tamerlane said.
Iapetus shrugged. “Call her what you will—but she is the rightful heir, and she appointed me—”
“At gunpoint,” Agrippa barked. “Nobody takes that seriously.”
“The Empire takes it seriously,” Iapetus said, “and you would do well to do likewise.” He turned and spoke softly with an officer just behind him; a moment later, a long, black box was brought forward and one of the Sons took a knee, opening the shining latches that held it closed. As the lid swung open, the glint of gold sparkled out at them. Iapetus, grinning, reached down and lifted the Sword of Baranak in his right hand. “Have you forgotten,” he asked the other two generals, “that I also now possess this—and that it has become a sort of de facto symbol of office, as well?”
“Stolen artifacts and stolen titles,” Agrippa spat. “I am not impressed.”
Iapetus moved a step closer to the blond general. “I doubt you will be impressed with your next posting, either,” he said angrily. “Or your new rank.”
Tamerlane started to move between them and attempt to settle things down, but he turned aside as a message arrived within his mind, via the Aether link from the Ascanius, high in orbit. He looked away for a moment, hoping the two men didn’t kill one another—or, rather, that Iapetus didn’t kill Agrippa, at least; he would’ve welcomed the opposite outcome—while he was taking the call. “Yes?” he sent back. “What is it?”
“General,” said Captain Dequoi, his voice tense, “The Atlantia has just jumped in from hyperspace, very close to us. They have launched fighters, as have we. Neither side is advancing, however. Yet.” His tone was even more anxious now. “What would you have me do, sir?”
Tamerlane glanced back at Iapetus. “My ship has spotted your ship,” he said.
Iapetus smiled. “Yes. Stealth is no longer required.”
Tamerlane looked away again. “Do nothing, Captain,” he sent via the Aether, saying the words aloud for Iapetus’s benefit, too. “Hold position. Unless they attempt to start trouble.”
Captain Dequoi hesitated, then, “I understand, General. Dequoi out.”
The link was severed and Tamerlane turned to his and Agrippa’s troopers, who were standing together in a small crowd a short distance behind him, having been about to move out of the tower. He called out, “That goes for all of you, too. No one takes any provocative actions toward the II Legion unless General Agrippa or I give the order.” He turned back and regarded Iapetus sidelong. “How did you move all these men down here without my ship spotting you before now?” he asked.
“I had assistance,” Iapetus replied with a chuckle. The Sword tip resting on the floor as he leaned upon it like a walking stick with his right hand, he raised his left and snapped his fingers. At the summons, the battalion of Sons parted and Colonel Barbarossa stepped out, leading a woman in dark red robes forward. Barbarossa held an odd little pistol in his right hand and gripped the woman’s arm with his left; he wasn’t exactly pointing the gun at her, but the threat was very apparent.
“The Lady Teluria was kind enough to open a portal so that I and my soldiers could walk right through to your location,” Iapetus explained. “I would have preferred to have come out inside this facility, but she claims she was unable to penetrate it while the door was closed.”
Teluria was glaring like a caged tiger at Iapetus. The general in turn reached over and took the little pistol from Barbarossa, who handed it over with a slight bow.
“So—you’ve found us,” Tamerlane said, while Agrippa eyed Iapetus with an expression quite similar to Teluria’s. “And you’ve brought your army with you. So—what now?”
Iapetus, the Sword pommel gripped in his right hand and the pistol in his left, made a show of looking around at the inside of the chamber within which they all stood. “I know that this facility can tap into vast power. Almost unthinkable levels of power. Certainly that can be of use in our current struggles.” He returned his gaze to Tamerlane. “So you will now tell me all about it—and exactly what it is capable of.”
“Or?”
“Or I will torture the surviving aliens out there until they tell me everything they know. Then I will work my way through your troops. And then I will come back and ask you again.”
“About what we have come to expect from you,” Agrippa grumbled.
Iapetus allowed a thin smile to form upon his lips. “Actually, I will extract all the information I can get out of the Dyonari regardless of what you do.”
“In that case,” Agrippa amended, “precisely what I expect from you.”
Iapetus’s smile broadened. “I’m pleased to have become such a reliable, known quantity to you, Arnem,” he said.
“Appointing you the head of II Legion was the worst mistake Nakamura ever made,” Tamerlane said bitterly.
Iapetus snorted at that. “Oh, please. It was the only wise thing he ever did. With me in charge, the human race has a chance of actually surviving all this.” He laughed again. “That’s more than can be said for your tenure at the helm.”
Tamerlane ignored this. “And if you succeed in harnessing the power of this facility,” he said, “what then?”
Iapetus gave him a half-shrug. “Then I decide how best to employ it against my enemies.”
“You mean humanity’s enemies, don’t you?” Agrippa asked, still glaring.
Iapetus chuckled. “Is there a difference now?”
“There is only one enemy you should concern yourself with,” came a voice from out of nowhere. “Not that it will do you any good.”
Everyone turned, following the hollow, echoing words. At first, no one and nothing could be seen out of the ordinary. Then, a short distance away in the direction of the center of the chamber, a swirl of crimson light flooded out of the very air itself. A hole appeared—a hole in nothing but thin air. It expanded outward ever so slowly, colors flaring to life within its depths, until it formed a circle some three meters across. Flames sprang up around its perimeter even as bright lights swam within it.
Behind Iapetus, the Lady Teluria cried out and tried to pull away. The guards that held her gripped her tighter as Iapetus spared a glance and a warning look her way.
“Someone is coming,” Tamerlane noted, recognizing the effects of a dimensional portal being opened.
“I know that pattern,” said Solonis, from where he stood within the mass of I and III Legion troops, all under the watchful eyes of the Sons of Terra. He had melted into the crowd the moment the door had opened and Iapetus had entered. “I know it, and it is not good.”
“Whom do you have there?” Iapetus asked, craning his neck to see who had spoken. “Who among your number considers himself so knowledgeable about the ways of the gods?” He caught sight
of the dark-skinned young man in a loincloth and frowned. He shook his head. “I don’t know that one, Ezekial. Are you dressing your Lords of Fire like primitives now? Who is he?”
“I’ll introduce you later, if you want,” Tamerlane said sarcastically. He nodded toward the flaming circle of light. “I think we have bigger concerns now.”
The circle grew almost solid, hovering in midair with only the very bottom of its arc touching the floor. Then a ripple appeared in the center, radiating outward. Simultaneously, ice began to form and grow on the floor and walls of the room. From its center, with an effect very much like a splash shown in reverse, a humanoid figure emerged, striding out into the chamber.
Most of the humans present winced and some even cried out. Just to look at the man who had walked through the dimensional portal caused physical and mental distress.
He was tall and slender, clad all in black, with pale skin and dark hair. His facial features were almost a blur; they seemed to shift from moment to moment. Gazing upon him was like looking at an angel—or a devil. He seemed somehow almost too vivid to be real—or rather he made everything else around him seem less real by comparison.
“I...know...you,” Tamerlane attempted to say, but two things held him back. For some reason, he felt as though his motor functions had slowed in the last few seconds, even as the temperature in the room dropped. For another, despite the fact that a part of his brain was screaming to him that it definitely recognized this guy and knew exactly who he was, another part of his brain seemed to be trying its hardest to override that message with another: a continuing refrain of, “Just forget him. You never saw him.” Tamerlane reached up with both hands—it was like trying to swim through oatmeal—and grasped the sides of his head. He groaned—and the sound he made came to his ears as if it had been slowed down by a factor of three or four.
“What...is...happening?” Agrippa tried to say, proving only partially successful in doing so.
The Shattering: Omnibus Page 81