All Our Tomorrows

by All Our Tomorrows (epub)

  “Not much.”

  Nyx took a step forward, as if she was considering blocking his exit. “That’s not nothing. As Director of Intelligence for the Advocacy, I need to stay informed on all developments under my purview.”

  Gods, she was insufferable. “Suit yourself. But I smell like smoke and blood, so I’m taking a shower. If you insist on being informed this instant, you can come along.”

  Eren’s residence, while smaller than hers, was nicer than Nyx had expected. The suite included a spacious living area with an adjunct kitchen, as well as a private bedroom, a full lavatory and a small deck overlooking the gardens. Her grandfather really did indulge the man, for reasons she still couldn’t fathom.

  She’d also expected it to be a filthy pit of strewn clothes, used plates and empty bottles. But the living area, at least, was nearly spotless. There wasn’t much in the way of personalization on display, either, but he hadn’t been staying here for long.

  Eren headed directly into the lavatory, and the shower turned on a minute later. He hadn’t closed the door, so she moved into the living area for a closer inspection.

  A visual of a Naraida woman with snow-white hair and glittering emerald eyes smiled at the room from beside the feed screen. A tickle of a memory flitted across her thoughts. Had the woman been at Plousia that night, when Caleb had frankly bested her? Her grandfather had mentioned that Eren lost someone on Savrak recently, and it didn’t take an Inquisitor to piece together the information on hand.

  A pang of sympathy echoed in her chest, somewhat to her surprise. Naraida didn’t enjoy the salvation of regenesis, and he must have known this. So why give his heart (assuming he had a functioning one) to a woman he knew was going to die? It was a foolish course of action, its endpoint an inevitability. Though, it did explain a few things about his behavior during their recent work together.

  The door to the lavatory opened, and she pivoted to see Eren wander out, steam wafting off his skin. He’d donned corium pants and was halfway into a chenille shirt. While his frame was slender, lean muscles shifted beneath his skin as he pulled the shirt down over his head. Most Idonis were either skeletally thin or excessively plump, depending on their indulgence of choice, which was the only reason she noticed the oddity.

  Once the shirttail landed at his hips, he gathered his prodigious, damp locks up in a band. “All right, ask your questions.”

  “Shouldn’t you have a summary of what you learned ready to present to me?”

  He strode past her to go sprawl on the single couch decorating the living room. “Sorry. Was a mite busy saving lives and whatnot.”

  She scowled, opting to prop on the dresser opposite him rather than sit. “Do you have anything at all to report, or have you wasted my last fifteen minutes?”

  Eren pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s for you to decide, but I did warn you it wasn’t much. There’s an up-and-coming gang out on the lawless side of the galaxy. They mark themselves with a tattoo, like so.” He sent her a file displaying an image of an abstract symbol surrounded by fur. “Heavy Barisan contingent, but probably not exclusively so.”

  “What’s their goal?”

  He shrugged. “Mayhem?”

  “I mean, are they intending to target the Advocacy?”

  “Don’t know. The Rasu attack interrupted my information gathering efforts. I’ve got a few contacts I plan to reach out to, though. They might know more about the group’s intentions.”

  “Like who?”

  He stared at her for several seconds, his eyes narrowing into slits. “I’m not certain I’m comfortable telling you.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Because I don’t trust you. Not all of my contacts live squeaky-clean lives, and if you come across them, you’re liable to lock them up on principle.”

  She bristled, feeling unaccountably defensive. “What makes you think I would do any such thing?”

  “Inquisitor? It’s in your genes.”

  “I am not limited by my past experiences or by my genetics. I can change.”

  “Maybe, but you haven’t. For instance: I kept your secret regarding your monster of a brother, yet you ran tattling to granddaddy about my intentions the instant we returned from Ficenti.”

  “What? I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  He shifted around on the couch, stretched out and dropped his head onto the arm cushion. Was he going to take a nap while she stood there?

  Finally he muttered a response. “Ferdinand. You blurted out that I’d intended to kill Ferdinand when we found him before I even got a chance to meet with Corradeo. But since I’m an honorable, upstanding guy—” she snorted “—I nonetheless chose not to tell him what happened with Kolgo. So who has the moral high ground now, Inquisitor?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. “You were planning to go against his explicit orders regarding how to neutralize Ferdinand.”

  “They weren’t orders. He’s not a dictator.”

  “But he is your superior—in every conceivable sense of the word, I’ll add. You work for him, thus you’re expected to do as he says.”

  “Sometimes. So what about Kolgo?”

  “Grandfather did not ask me to bring him back alive.”

  “Only because you hadn’t told him you’d found Kolgo in the first place. Corradeo asked you to seek out the other Inquisitors, didn’t he? Quite a fine hair you’re splitting there, sweetheart.”

  She swallowed her instinctual retort and dropped her chin to her chest for several seconds. Eventually, she offered him a weak nod. “You’re correct. I’m being hypocritical on this matter. You exercised your own independent discretion on the best way to proceed, and so did I.”

  Eren swung his legs around and sat up on the couch. “That’s awfully big of you.”

  She huffed a breath, and the words began flowing with surprising ease. “The truth is, I’ve been struggling over whether or not to tell him about Kolgo. I should, right? But he has so much on his plate, and what happened with Kolgo…it’s done. In the past. Door closed. But perhaps I should, anyway. Do you want to accompany me when I do? You were on the mission as well.”

  He shook his head, easing back onto the couch cushion. “You’re missing the point, Nyx. I don’t actually think you need to tell him. He trusts you to use your judgment and handle all the ugly messes within your purview, so he can concentrate on doing high and noble work. My point is, he trusts me, too. Maybe you could consider, just consider, doing the same.”

  She found she had no proper response. Trusting this anarch, this wild, half-mad Idoni man, went against everything she’d spent millennia believing. On the other hand, the world she’d inhabited for those millennia had been built on lies and manipulations, hadn’t it? Gods, she was trying, she truly was.

  Possibly taking her silence for a refusal, he tossed a dismissive wave in her direction and stretched back out. “If you’ll excuse me, I desperately need a nap. I’ll be sure to file a proper report detailing whatever I learn from my contacts—names redacted to protect the mostly innocent.”

  No closer to an answer on what to do about her ethical dilemma, she nodded mutely and departed. Only once she was halfway to her own residence did she realize that for the first time, he’d called her by her name.

  38

  * * *

  CONCORD HQ

  Command

  The group assembled around the conference table now had a formal title: the Rasu Military Advisory Council. Its purpose was implied in the title: to advise Miriam on the state of the war and how best to conduct it. Many at the table were also actively engaged in the waging of it as well, so much so that she did not expect to get all members gathered in person often after today. Going forward, they would meet where and in whatever manner was available to them as events dictated.

  The Tokahe Naataan was the sole member present via holo, as the state of affairs on Ireltse continued to revolve around crisis management and security. Amazing
ly, he looked none the worse for wear following his brush with the spectre of death—she hurriedly put aside any whimsical thoughts about such experiences. Not the time or place.

  Malcolm was here, of course—and at his request, Field Marshal Bastian, on account of the man having seen far more combat time against the Rasu than Malcolm had enjoyed. Pointe-Amiral Thisiame was also in attendance, along with his chief deputy. Casmir sat opposite Miriam, next to Corradeo Praesidis, whom she had invited today for several reasons.

  As he was new to Concord, Corradeo needed a crash course in many matters, but the Rasu situation was high on the list. Also, he had served as the Anadens’ military supreme commander for hundreds of millennia. He may claim to be long-retired from military service, but the combined combat experience of everyone else at the table totaled a tiny fraction of his own.

  Commander Palmer was present as well. Though the Asterions were only Allied Members of Concord, they’d been on the front lines of the Rasu War from the beginning, and their fleet had grown sufficiently formidable that they’d likely be fighting alongside the others in many future battles.

  The last person present was David. She’d hesitated about including him, purely due to optics. But he’d played a crucial role in developing their current battlefield strategies for combating the Rasu, especially in her absence, and he continued to contribute insight and ideas. She wanted—needed—to hear his thoughts on what the others said, and she’d daresay they needed to hear his.

  The circle was now complete, so she closed the door and brought the meeting to order.

  “Thank you all for coming today. First, an update on the situation at Chalmun Station. The Rasu who attacked it have degraded into, as near as we are able to determine without boarding them, a completely nonfunctional state. They have lost engine and weapons power and are drifting in space. The energy signals they are emitting are so low as to be virtually undetectable. We’ve observed no shifting activity from any of the vessels since six minutes after we fired the Ymyrath Field.

  “We will continue to conduct active scanning of the disabled vessels, as well as be on alert for new incursions. If any Rasu come searching for their comrades, I intend to blast the damaged vessels into atoms before they find them. We cannot have other Rasu learning of the nature of our new weapon.”

  Thisiame clasped his hands together on the table. “What about the weapon itself?”

  “Resilient, thanks to robust protective shielding of all components. There was a minimal radiation leak upon firing, but it was contained to the area surrounding the weapon housing. Special Projects is taking steps to further shield the immediate area so no personnel are put at risk. We built most of the components using adiamene, so they remain in good shape. It was, I daresay, a successful proof-of-concept test.”

  “And Chalmun Station?”

  “It will never be habitable again. It’s currently in three large pieces, with hundreds of smaller chunks shorn away. All existing tunnels and habitable spaces inside have collapsed.”

  Malcolm protested. “But they were artificially carved out of the interior. If someone is motivated to do so, they can do the same again inside the pieces.”

  “And this would be the biggest disadvantage of the Ourankeli weapon. The asteroid’s remnants are now radioactive. In fact, the radioactive field has dispersed to cover fifty-two square megameters. The area inside the field is not safe to be visited by any organics for longer than a few hours at a time, and then only with Tier 3 shielding.”

  Malcolm whistled. “That is a bitch of a weapon.”

  “It is. Obviously, not one we can use when engaged in combat anywhere near inhabited locations. My daughter made an astute observation the other day: the Ourankeli created it as a defensive weapon, but she thinks we must treat it as an offensive one. I agree.

  “But even using it in an offensive matter is a consideration for the future. For now, we will continue to monitor the results of its use at Chalmun Station while we conduct additional tests and make iterative improvements in the lab.”

  She gestured to the holo at one end of the oval table. “Tokahe Naataan, can you update us on the situation in your home system?”

  Pinchu kicked back in his chair. “Ah, well. We dug up a couple of Rasu stragglers hiding on the outskirts of the Ireltse capital city yesterday. We blasted them, then melted them, then disintegrated them. I’d like to say this was the last of the buggers, but there’s a lot of rubble still to clear away. The good news is, we continue to detect no Rasu presence on Nengllitse, Tapertse or our two space stations. And thank you for continuing to provide patrol and reconnaissance craft support. We will rebuild Ireltse’s defense grid, but it will take time.”

  “No need for thanks. We are here to support each other. It’s why Concord exists.” She let her gaze pass across everyone to reiterate the point before moving on.

  “In the aftermath of these two attacks, the pertinent questions become, where are the Rasu at this moment? Where are they planning to strike next? We’ve notified all settlements and installations in LMC, including the Ruda, to be on high alert. Our stepped-up monitoring has detected Rasu signatures briefly appearing in four separate uninhabited stellar systems in the Large Magellanic Cloud in the last three days. Our guess is, they arrive in a system, do a brief scan, detect no advanced civilizations, and move on.”

  “Huh.” Commander Palmer wore a frown, though he didn’t look up.

  “Commander Palmer, you’re thinking this deviates from their previous behavior of moving from system to system then galaxy to galaxy, scavenging resources and eliminating any life they happened upon along the way. You’re correct, it does. But jumping across five megaparsecs of space to arrive in Concord territory already marked a change in behavior for them.” She steepled her hands at her chin. “I think it’s a fair conclusion to draw that they now consider Concord an enemy worthy of destroying before they return to their regular raping of this supercluster.”

  “We knew they were smart.”

  “Yes, we did. Which is why I submit our greatest challenge right now is tracking them. Predicting where they might emerge next. We are deploying a hundred new long-range sensor buoys every twelve hours to aid in this effort, but I don’t have to tell you how vast space is. At this rate, it will take us four years to adequately cover the galaxies comprising Concord territory.”

  Malcolm’s expression grew troubled. “Do you genuinely believe we’ll still be fighting the Rasu in four years?”

  “I think we have to consider the possibility that this is going to be a long war, yes. Regardless, we will prepare as if it’s going to be one. As of today, with all our active forces on alert, we can have a reasonably sized fleet on the scene of an attack thirty-three minutes after Rasu are detected, and a full battle fleet there in under two hours. This is good. But if they are attacking one of our colonies, millions of civilians will be placed in harm’s way for those two hours, which means it’s not good enough. We need to do better.”

  “Rift Bubbles?” David asked.

  She shrugged, as this decision was mostly out of her hands. “The Senate has finalized an equitable distribution plan for Rift Bubbles as they become available. There are certain safety issues associated with their use, but those are largely a matter for planetary governments to work out. However, with over two thousand colonized worlds and six hundred space stations in play, we should not expect the majority of our habitats to enjoy Rift Bubble protection anytime soon.”

  Thisiame grumbled under his breath, a rare display of frustration from the Pointe-Amiral. “ ‘Safety issues’ is an understatement. Dealing with civilian traffic around an active Rift Bubble is a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “Not as big a disaster as the population being wiped out by a Rasu armada.”

  “You obviously don’t have our press corps.”

  She chuckled lightly, and it seemed as if everyone appreciated the levity. “If it’s more aggressive than humanity’s, I never want to
encounter it. The fact is, though I’ve no doubt our respective governments will request our input on those decisions, the deployment and use of the Rift Bubbles are primarily a civilian matter. Our job is to keep the Rasu away from Concord worlds in the first place. And I’ll be honest—I am open to suggestions on how to better accomplish this.”

  Once the meeting concluded with a long list of action items for everyone in attendance to tackle, she and David returned to her office. When they arrived, she busied herself with reviewing three high priority (but not actually) messages, then with straightening a spotless desk while a new cup of tea brewed.

  In the corner of her vision, she noticed David leaning against the small table by the viewports, his arms and legs crossed and his countenance scrupulously blank. Once she held the teacup in her hands, she turned to him. “What?”

  “I think the meeting went well, all things considered.”

  “Well enough, I suppose.”

  “And Bastian behaved himself.”

  “He did.”

  “And Pinchu’s looking healthy.”

  “Exceptionally so.”

  “And Mr. Praesidis seems to be adjusting to Concord life.”

  “Thus far.”

  He moved quickly across the office to reach her, placing a hand on each shoulder. “Then what’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She laughed a touch bitterly. “Have you seen the Rasu?”

  “Not in person, thankfully. Sure, okay, we’re facing an enemy hellbent on our extinction. It’s not the first time.”

  “Or even the second.” She set the teacup on her desk and dropped her forehead to his chest, only for a breath. “It’s not about…I’m not afraid of them. I truly do think I’ve gotten past the nightmares and the trauma over what happened to me.

  “No, this is merely good, old-fashioned war stress. I feel like I’m flying blind, playing whack-a-mole against an enemy that won’t stay whacked, while the horde prepping to sweep across us and flatten everything in its path has scarcely begun to crest the hill on the horizon.”