Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  He docked the ship, and both he and Maggie returned to their respective crews, who seemed as divided as ever. Both crews had come up with a variety of wildly-conflicting plans, and the absence of their leaders meant there was no one there to temper them. It seemed that there had been many arguments while they were gone.

  “Good to see you back,” Larsman said to Skip. They placed a hand on each other's shoulder, bowing their heads together. They hadn't known each other that long, but what they had been through was tough, and their mutual admiration was clear. A lot went unsaid, because speaking it was more painful than any hurt of battle.

  “Fill me in,” Skip said. “And … where's Ontri?”

  “I was actually going to ask you that. We thought he was captured with you.”

  “I went aboard the Ark alone.”

  “Well … when we got the Offspring back, he wasn't on board.”

  “Damn it,” Skip said. “He's probably still on the Ark then.”

  “We might have to assume the worst.”

  “We won't assume anything. Tell me what you've come up with. We need to take out that vessel.”

  “We've looked at the options,” Larsman said, “and the best we've come up with is firing every missile we've got from afar, then warping out of here to avoid the blast.”

  Skip shook his head. His distinctive solitary curl quivered. “But that won't just blow up the ship. It'll take the entire system, and probably the neighbouring ones too.”

  “That's the price that'll have to be paid.”

  “No.”

  “It's either that or let them go where they please.”

  “We can't ignore them. They're heading to the Alpha system.”

  “Stars. All the more reason to take them out now.”

  “Oh, we'll take them out, but we have to do it in a way that doesn't annihilate everyone and everything out here.”

  Larsman scrunched up his mouth. “Wouldn't be such a bad thing, I think. Maybe there's no room for rats in space. You saw how bad they are.”

  “And I saw what's driving the leash. They're not all bad, Larsman. What's ruling them is.”

  “What's that?”

  “The Umbra, Larsman. The Umbra are back. Maybe when our parents told us those horrible bedtime stories, we didn't just shiver because they were scary, but because deep down in our heart of hearts, we knew they were real.”

  41

  Choices

  Maggie didn't return to the control room of her ship. She went straight to her quarters, taking off her power armour to start repairs. There was something comforting in getting out the engineering equipment, in focusing all her energy—and all her mind—on something practical. It was something she could change. Something she could fix.

  Lieutenant Toz, unable to leave anything alone, knocked on her door. She knew it was him by his knock. He liked to make a little song out of the raps. He had a tendency to tap out a beat on his rifle too. Said it helped him concentrate. She guessed it was his equivalent of fixing things.

  “Come in,” she said, though really she meant “Go away.” She couldn't say how she felt, because she was still trying to keep up appearances, still trying to be the ship's commander. For so long, she looked down on Skip, even mocked him for all the cracks she saw in him. Now, after everything she knew he'd been through—and some she only guessed about—she wondered how he hadn't broken apart entirely. For the first time since boarding the Gemini, she started to realise this really was a punishment, and that some people, maybe not her, didn't deserve it. She started to realise that by the end of her galaxy service, she might have cracked as well.

  Toz came in, but not fully. He stood by the door awkwardly, resting against the frame. He scratched his greasy hair for a moment, saying nothing.

  “Well?” Maggie asked.

  “Eh, uh, I just … I'm glad you're safe, Maggie.”

  Maggie couldn't bring herself to thank him. Not everyone was safe. Not everyone came back. There might have been celebrations on both rockets—on Gemini Left more than anything—but she didn't consider this a victory at all. To her, the mission was a failure.

  “And I, uh,” Toz continued, “just wanted to say sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “How I acted before.”

  “Forget about it.”

  “It's just … this place. This prison. I've never been cooped up for so long. It just … it just got to me.”

  “I get it,” Maggie said, still working away on her power armour. “And I'm sorry too.”

  “Why are you sorry? You got him back. You were right.”

  “I'm sorry I got you landed with this. The galaxy service was the best I could get, or so I thought. I thought maybe it was a way out … but really it's just a prison without bars.”

  “We'll get out in time,” Toz said. “Only a few more big discoveries.”

  She suspected he didn't really believe it, that he was just putting on a brave face for her benefit.

  “I'm not so sure about that,” Maggie replied. “We lost Alex.”

  “Alex? The Primus boy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you mean we lost him?”

  “He snuck aboard the Bridge. He's dead, Toz. The kid is dead.”

  She looked back at her equipment. She didn't want to see Toz's reaction. He knew well what Alex's death meant. They couldn't go back to Empire territory without having to pay a price for that. Skip's crew sure wouldn't pay it, even though the teen was under their watch. It'd be the ragtag band of outlaws on Gemini Right. No matter how much they pretended to be scientists, they'd still be seen as criminals. Whenever anything went wrong, they'd be blamed for it too.

  “Let's not go back then,” Toz suggested.

  “What?”

  “We're out here beyond the Edge. Maybe we can live out here.”

  “But I have a life back home.”

  “You had a life, Maggie. It won't be waiting for you when this all ends.”

  Maggie sunk her head. It was getting harder to focus on her repairs. She was starting to make mistakes. She supposed she'd started making them a long time ago. The biggest one was getting caught. Right now, there was no real reason to go home. There was no reason to save an Empire she didn't believe in, and one that certainly didn't believe in her. She could bow out now, go on the run, like so many other enemies of the Empire did, and maybe carve out some kind of living along the Edge. She sighed, knowing that she couldn't live that life.

  “That space barge is heading for the Alpha system,” she said. “That's where it'll blow.”

  “Then let it. Let them have it. We don't owe them anything, Maggie. And stars, maybe it's better if the Empire falls. What good has it done us? We know there's corruption there. We know they've been hiding devastating weapons. Maybe this is … I don't know, cosmic justice.”

  “We can't just let them die,” Maggie said.

  “We were supposed to make discoveries, Maggie, not fight a war.”

  “Well, this is one discovery.”

  “They won't thank us for it, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why bother saving them?”

  “Because some things are worth doing even if there's no reward.”

  42

  Good Advice

  Skip retired to his quarters, feeling he was due a much-deserved rest, but knowing quite well that he'd have a hard time sleeping. More than anything, he needed advice. He needed guidance. If there was anyone who could give that to him, it was his long-serving companion, Lieutenant Fellow.

  “Boy am I glad to see you,” Skip said, as soon as he entered his quarters. Just as much as he could count on Ontri's support, he could count on finding Lieutenant Fellow to be found in their shared quarters, working tirelessly on his war strategies.

  Lieutenant Fellow said nothing. He was the quiet type, reserved, only leaving his quarters at night when most of the other crew were sleeping. You might have said he essentially lived in tha
t room, and no one bothered him about it all, least of all Skip.

  “I see you've been working away,” the Captain said, looking around the room. There were papers strewn about the place, some on the tables, many on the floor. Lieutenant Fellow was messy, to say the least, but that didn't matter when he was such good counsel.

  “I'm torn, Lieutenant,” Skip said, sitting down across from him. He let out a terrible sigh. “I really don't know what to do. I feel like I've stumbled into something that we weren't supposed to. We've got no backup out here. It's just us. We're out of communications range with the Empire.”

  The two exchanged glances.

  “Yeah, I know,” Skip said. “I guess the path is clearer than I think it is. It just isn't an easy path. But then … I guess they're never easy, huh? Everyone's gotta make a sacrifice some time. Maybe this is ours.”

  Lieutenant Fellow continued to give the Captain his full attention. He mightn't have been much of a talker, but he was a damn good listener. Sometimes that was all Skip needed.

  “I need to know though,” Skip continued. “Do we blow it all up, or do we try to take over this thing and disarm it from the inside? That kind of sounds like suicide, but maybe that's better than all the killing the first option involves.”

  He stood up and headed over to Lieutenant Fellow, who sat on his chair, staring at him. Skip patted the Lieutenant's head. He always liked that. It made him more amenable to giving advice.

  Skip took a little ship down from a display shelf and plopped it in the centre of the table. Lieutenant Fellow stared at it intently, but didn't budge while Skip kept his hand around the ship's base.

  “Let's say this is the space barge,” Skip said. “And the table is the galaxy.”

  Lieutenant Fellow purred in agreement.

  “So, do we knock it off the table, or do we take it for our own?”

  Skip moved his hand away, and Lieutenant Fellow hopped from his seat and landed on the table. He grabbed the ship in his mouth, then brought it back to his chair, where he tapped it with his paws.

  “I knew I could count on you,” Skip said, petting the cat. “You've guided me through many wars. Let's hope your advice holds up, Lieutenant. Maybe then you'll be up for promotion.”

  43

  A Plan of Action

  Skip and Maggie arranged a meeting with the highest ranking members of both crews. They met in the Bridge. That was their default space for arranging compromises. It wasn't any surprise that they didn't meet there often.

  “We have a plan,” Skip said.

  “Finally,” Admiral Mendan croaked. He sat in the pilot seat, gripping the control panel, seeming as ready to get in on the action as anyone else. He strained his eyes at the viewscreen. “Just don't get in the way of my guns,” he warned.

  “You're not fighting,” Maggie said.

  “You think I'm too old, huh?” He struggled up and started pointing to each of them in turn. “You all thought I was mad, you did. Well, I was right! They came back. I kept tellin' ya. No one'd listen. And will that starspanker Nebula write about this, huh?”

  “Right, calm down,” Skip said. “We need your strategic mind more than ever, Admiral.”

  “Damn right ya do!” Mendan hammered his index finger at his temple. “Never lost a single marble! Not so sure about the rest o' you.”

  “The plan,” Maggie said, nudging Skip.

  “Yeah,” Ken Danris, Skip's Marine trainer, barked. He was a Bulker, with more muscle than the rest of the people there combined. Him in power armour was a sight to behold. He was pretty eager to get into some now. “I want me some fightin'.” He was never a man of many words, but what few he used worked wonders on rallying the soldiers. He'd make you believe you could shoot down anything. All you needed was the right gun.

  “We can't shoot down the Ark,” Skip said. “We need to take it over.”

  “Won't it be just as dangerous in Empire hands?” Toz asked. Those were treasonous words, and some of Skip's crew grumbled at them. Toz was lucky he was out of earshot of the Emperor.

  “The chance of that barge being captured by someone else out here is high,” Skip said. “It flies too slow. We'd have to accompany it for years to get it back to Empire territory. We can't risk someone else getting their hands on it.”

  “So, what do you propose?”

  Maggie stepped up. “We're going to scuttle it.”

  “What a waste,” Larsman said.

  “In any other circumstance,” Mendan said, “I'd agree. But the Umbra are out here. They'll be bending the ears of every species across the rim, until they all call them Masters. We can't let a weapon like this exist out here. It has to be dismantled.”

  “How do we even do that?” Larsman asked.

  “We've got to board it and take it from the inside,” Skip said.

  “That's suicide!”

  “We've done it already.”

  “Yeah, by stealth.”

  “Well, now let's do it by storm.”

  “We can do this,” Maggie said, “with our combined crews. We've got all the tools we need.”

  “We've got a lot of weaponry,” Skip said.

  “Oooh yeah!” Danris cheered.

  “The problem,” Skip continued, “is that they've got weapons we've got no defences for. They use psychic abilities. They call them Mind-killers.”

  “Psy-soldiers,” Admiral Mendan mused, chewing his lip.

  “Yeah,” Skip said. “I guess you could call them that.”

  “I've fought them before. Hmph! Was told I was mad for that too.”

  “No one thinks you're mad now,” Maggie said.

  “Now, yes. Well, I wouldn't worry about those Mind-killers. I've got just the weapon to fight them.”

  44

  A One-man Army

  Admiral Mendan led the team to his quarters, to the glass container that so many had dismissed as one of the admiral's odd-ball trophies. He had a lot of other strange artefacts from bygone wars, and it was all taken to be largely a show of past glories, likely for the benefit of the Galaxy Express journalist, and, through him, the galaxy as a whole.

  They were wrong.

  After some time pressing his face close to the controls on the cylinder, grumbling to himself as he tried to make out which button was which, the admiral drained the liquid out. They all stared in silence for a moment, waiting for something to happen. They thought maybe Mendan had developed an anti-psy-soldier toxin from the female body inside, that the liquid would be poured into needles and weapons.

  Then the woman moved.

  They gasped, and some flinched.

  She opened her eyes, and they seemed to be blue, and then with a blink, green, and then with another, brown. So it seemed that they kept changing, including colours no human had ever seen before. And there was something about her stare, something hypnotic. Her hair was ghostly white, and her skin ghostly pale, which made the ever-shifting colours of her eyes stand out even more.

  Mendan opened the glass door, letting the woman step out. She was almost entirely naked, but seemed to have no concern about it. Some of those attending weren't sure whether to stare or look away.

  “Admiral,” she said. Her voice was haunting. It seemed to come from far off and very close at the same time, like she was speaking from across the galaxy and yet whispering to their very ears. There was also the hint of many voices, and her accent was difficult to pin down.

  “This is the body of Glacia Andros, one of my finest soldiers,” the admiral explained.

  “The body?” Skip asked.

  “Inside,” Mendan said, “are the rest of her division. Or their minds, at least.”

  Many there were dumbfounded. They had so many questions, they weren't sure what to ask.

  “We are a hundred minds,” the woman said. “Once divided, like you. Now united.”

  Everyone there, bar perhaps Mendan, felt a little woozy. The way she talked and stared at them seemed to be having an effect like a trance.
It was difficult to concentrate, and it seemed whenever they did have the mental power to do so, it was largely through her allowing it to happen.

  “So, you're our weapon,” Skip said, wondering if that was offensive.

  “All minds are weapons,” she replied. “Ours are a weapon one hundred times the power.”

  “You can fight the Mind-killers though, right?”

  “We can already feel their minds from across the expanse. Yes, we can fight them.”

  “Good,” Skip said, feeling more confident about this mission.

  Larsman cleared his throat. “Are you, eh, gonna fight in that?” He pointed to the thin piece of fabric around her waist, barely hiding anything at all.

  “For your comfort, we will attire this shell of flesh with a shell of fabric.”

  “Good. It's just … eh … might be a distraction is all.”

  She smiled. “Some minds are easily distracted.”

  “So, what do we call you?” Skip asked.

  “There are no names entirely appropriate, but for your convenience, you may call us by the name formerly associated with this body, our host: Glacia.”

  “And, uh, what about … you know?”

  “My sex?”

  Skip blushed. “Yeah.”

  “I have a female body, though it is changing, so for your comfort and convenience, you may call us 'she', though 'they' is much more accurate. We are female and male, and everything between, and in that union we may perhaps have discovered a third, more androgynous form. We are all, and beyond all.” She looked at Skip intensely. “We are the future, though it scares you.”