Damn, the Kat was even crankier now than it had been on Serifos…because the viciousness of war didn’t sit well with creatures of the Kats’ nature. The insight meant at least he understood the behavior now.
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to know. It’s only…I kind of just woke up.” He slapped his left cheek, then his right. “Okay, I’m good now. Tell me.”
I have already told you that many of the Faneros yet live. I propose to show you how they do so.
Show him? Hades knew he hadn’t expected that to be an option. Was he ready to see the creatures—to have them elevated to more than a memory and become breathing, moving, living beings? Would it bring him comfort and closure, or tear open a raw wound of guilt and shame to bleed all over his new clothes?
He blinked in surprise, which probably shouldn’t have occurred. Over a century ago, the events of that party-turned-nightmare where he’d encountered two of the captured Faneros had ultimately led to him severing his connection to the Idoni integral and becoming an anarch. But, yes, he nonetheless harbored deep shame over his role, aborted though it had been, in the abuse of the helpless aliens.
Had he ever admitted that, even to himself? Had he ever acknowledged that his derision toward the Idoni Dynasty was in part deflected disgust at himself?
He sank against the wall as a different manner of weariness descended upon him.
Eren? What is your decision?
He gazed at the shifting, amorphous lights in resignation. “All right. Take me wherever you want.”
They landed in the main cabin—or possibly sole cabin—of a ship. Smaller than the Siyane, its design was unlike any he’d seen, and rather dramatically so. The hull was almost entirely translucent, creating a vivid sensation of standing in space. There was no furniture to speak of, only a couple of smooth, outwardly blank fixtures. A pattern of mysterious symbols was etched onto a frosted panel at what should be the cockpit. Were they flight controls and sensor readings displayed in the Kats’ native language? Wisps of nebulous white-blue light beneath and behind the cabin could be evidence of a propulsion drive.
Eren breathed in…which in and of itself was an interesting occurrence, given his surroundings. “Why does your ship have a life support system? You don’t need to breathe.”
I also don’t particularly need a ship, not for myself alone. You are not the first organic being to stand inside it.
“I’m sure. Still, it has your style about it. I don’t think it’s purely utilitarian.”
There are times when all of us welcome the succor of walls enclosing us.
“Barely,” he muttered as he approached the maybe-cockpit and peered out. “Where are we headed?”
The Mosaic.
“Where the Humans come from?”
No. Which is to say, yes. The Humans’ home does reside within the Mosaic, but this is not our destination. The Mosaic is home to many species.
“And a replacement home for others.”
Indeed. You have been paying closer attention than you give the impression of, Eren asi-Idoni.
“I’m sneaky that way. You Kats genuinely have been busy, haven’t you, and for a long time? You should have told us—told the anarchs.”
In retrospect, perhaps. It matters not, for now you do know. We move forward.
He chuckled. “You sound like Miaon.”
The Yinhe’s perspective has much in common with our own.
“Only Miaon, or all the Yinhe? Or is there truly only a single Yinhe?”
You must ask this of Miaon. It is not for me to say.
“Fine, keep its secrets if you want.” His jaw dropped as an enormous portal sprung to life out of the nothingness in front of them. Glacier blue plasma rippled and sparked across the interior of the ring demarcating it. “It seems keeping secrets is what you do.”
Secrets are merely the necessary means. Survival is the end goal. Survival of ourselves, survival of species who do not deserve to be eradicated from the universe. Survival of the universe itself.
“Survival’s noble and all, but what good is it without the freedom to live as you choose?”
A question you have the luxury to ask because you survive.
He opened his mouth to retort…but it was a decent point. He didn’t agree that survival was the end—freedom was the end—but he supposed it was a necessary stop along the way.
MOSAIC
ENISLE FOUR
They traveled through the portal, then through multiple smaller portals. Each one vanished as soon as they traversed it. If Mesme decided to leave him out here, he was fucked.
Finally stars greeted them on a traversal, and he relaxed a little. He’d never appreciated how claustrophobic featureless black void could be.
“Are the stars real, or just window dressing?”
What would be the point of them if they were not real?
“So you created thousands of authentic, functioning astronomical stars simply so the Faneros would feel like they lived in a real place?”
No. We did it so they would live in a real place.
Eren rubbed at his temples. Every time he thought he was getting a handle on what made the Kat tick, it tossed out an offhand comment hinting at undiscovered depths of motivation and nuances of outlook. Maddening creature.
The symbols on the front panel pulsed, faded and lit up anew as a planet came into view. It had a washed-out appearance, all whites and grays with sparse hints of pale mauve and lavender. Its sun remained distant, hardly brighter than the canopy of stars.
When the ship began descending through the atmosphere, he glanced at Mesme in increasing anxiousness. “We’re going down there?”
To observe. Not to interact. They are aware of the Katasketousya’s existence and role in their rescue. However, we keep interaction to a minimum, as it brings with it…complications.
This he did not doubt. He exhaled in relief at the reassurance he wouldn’t be expected to look them in the haunting reflections of their eyes. Godsdamned mirrors to the soul.
The atmospheric haze thinned to reveal a settlement cut into and built up from a vast plain. The planet’s surface was marble, and so were the structures. This wasn’t to say they were crude; on the contrary, the broad, airy buildings were quite lovely and occasionally exquisite. Quartz and more rarely glittering crystal embellished long stretches of whorled white marble to create teases of brilliance upon the lustered backdrop.
He felt his mood improving in the face of the peaceful scene. “I bet it’s gorgeous in the daytime.”
This is daytime.
“What?” The sky resembled dusk at best, with a blanket of shadowy blue-gray forming a presage of true darkness.
What you see is as much daylight as their planet experiences. This is why their skin is translucent—to maximize utilization of the limited radiant energy that reaches them.
“But they were…” he shook his head roughly as memory swelled up out of hidden places and threatened to consume him “…their skin was almost hot to the touch.”
Unsurprising. They are required to use a portion of the radiant energy absorbed for thermoregulation.
Mesme continued descending until they were scant tens of meters above the surface. Faneros moved to and fro, interacting and working in what resembled productive endeavors. They wore elegant, shimmery clothing cinched with satiny threads and decorated with jeweled baubles.
“They can’t see us?”
We are well-cloaked.
Emboldened, Eren pressed into the viewport, hands splayed as if he might reach out and touch one, confirming its skin was as warm and pliant as he remembered—
Warm skin met his fingertips, as softly pliant as a silken cushion at the end of a long night. His hand traveled up the tantalizing curve of the creature’s neck, and it began to tremble beneath his touch.
Someone laughed behind him. Uneven, drunken footsteps echoed nearby.
He looked up to meet eyes of pure molten silver, wide enough to swallo
w him whole. He fell into their bottomless pools and came face to face with fear.
Eren wrenched away from the viewport and stumbled backwards down the span of the cabin, finally reaching the rear wall to fall against it and sink to the floor. He choked back acid in his throat that threatened to become vomit and breathed through his nose, trying to bury the revulsion deep in his gut where it could choose to simmer or burn away.
Eren, you are not well?
He hugged his knees to his chest. So close beneath the floor Faneros glided across their sea of marble, blissfully unaware of the predator hovering above them. In this transparent ship, there was no escaping their devastating innocence.
Squeezing his eyes shut only made things worse, as memory projected itself onto the canvas of his eyelids. No escape. Not for wretched souls like him.
“Take me home.”
You do not desire to observe the inhabitants any further?
“Arae anathema, I said take me home!”
As you wish.
15
AFS STALWART II
MILKY WAY SECTOR 53
* * *
MALCOLM STOPPED OUTSIDE THE DOOR to the conference room on Deck 4. The hall around him was empty, and in the fleeting silence he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut—then squared his shoulders and plastered on a pleasant expression as he opened the door.
Mia was sitting at the far end of the room, situated comfortably in the depths of the cushioned chair by the kitchen unit, sipping on a drink and studying an aural. But as he walked in she blinked, banished the aural and stood, an enchanting smile crossing her lips before it was replaced by a concerned gaze.
“I apologize for the delay, and for running out on you. And for leaving you alone for so long.”
She started moving toward him, though he was coming to her. “No, it’s not a problem. I heard about Rychen. I’m so sorry.”
He nodded with the measured solemnity he’d perfected over the previous hours. “We’ll talk about it once we get you settled. For now, I’ve arranged for you to stay in one of the nicer—”
She reached him and drew him into her arms.
He resisted for a split-second. He’d had this whole routine planned, built around trying to do right by her seeing as he’d dumped her into what was now a dark, desperate mess. But her embrace felt so damn warm and comforting, and his stiff bearing promptly melted away.
He’d thrown so much energy into maintaining a brave, stoic front for everyone else…he’d forgotten too easily that he could relax around her. That he should, lest she swiftly call him on it.
Tension began to seep away as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. “Thank you. This helps.”
“There’s more where this came from.”
“I know. But not here.” He straightened up with an apologetic grimace. “Let me take you to your room, which will be somewhat more private. Not more soundproof, but….”
She winced at his pathetic attempt at risqué banter, then turned around and went to pick up her bags. He hurried over and grabbed them before she could—and now his hands were full, so he had to motion toward the door with a jerk of his head.
He offered acknowledgments to the crew members they passed. To a one they displayed the grim, hardened demeanor of seasoned soldiers dealt a blow. The mood in the passageways was somber, but it was nevertheless gradually returning to the purposeful activity that had been the norm until today.
Mia followed him quietly, but he knew better than to think she wasn’t soaking up the atmosphere and noting every little detail she encountered. And watching him. He still wanted to put on a reassuring, confident front for her; he felt guilty for having dragged her away from her home and job into the middle of a war in an alien universe—a war now going badly—and didn’t want to make it yet harder for her. But he was tired.
The Stalwart II was a big ship. It took a while, but finally they reached her cabin. He again used his head to motion her inside, then followed her and let the door shut behind them. “I realize it’s not much. Hopefully it’ll be temporary and—”
“It’s fine.” She took her belongings from him one by one and set them by the wall, then coaxed him onto the edge of the bunk beside her. She brought a hand up to his face. “Okay, we’re in private now. You can let out the breath you’ve been holding.”
“I haven’t been….” On receiving a stern glare in response, he relented and did exactly as she’d advised, exhaling until there was nothing left for him to hold inside. Finally he drew in what he hoped was a more optimistic breath. “It’s tough out there right now. But we’ll bounce back.”
“Of course you will. But that’s tomorrow, and this is now. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
His gaze fell to the floor. “I can’t help but wonder whether if I’d been there….” I could have intercepted the missiles. Saved the Virginia. I’d be dead, but it’s my job, isn’t it? Maybe I could have….
“I’ve heard you’re pretty crafty on the battlefield, no doubt. But understanding what I do about AEGIS, and all these ships and officers and Prevos and tech and weapons and shields the organization has at its disposal? It seems to me you have to travel a very long way indeed to get to a place where you’re to blame for Rychen’s death.”
“I know. It’s just…we’re looking at almost twenty-four thousand dead on the Virginia alone. They’re estimating another three thousand lost across the fleet, before you start counting all the aliens who died on the Sagittae Arx. This is a blow, no matter where the blame lies.”
“It is. I’m sorry.” She leaned in and kissed his temple, then rested her head on his shoulder.
He resisted her attempts to ease his burden, though. The comfort of understanding and empathy was welcome, but it couldn’t erase the loss. Nor should it. They had to own the defeat and its consequences. “What kind of commander orders the murder of eleven thousand civilians merely to take out a couple of enemy ships?”
“We know the Machim consider their own soldiers expendable. Maybe it ought not to be a surprise that they view civilians the same way.”
“The soldiers will wake back up in pods somewhere. But many of those on the Arx weren’t Anaden. They’re dead for good, and alien or not, their lives still had value. But not to the Machim commander. Which presumably means also not to the Machim Primor, and not to the Directorate.”
“Ultimately, this is the crux of why you’re fighting, isn’t it? They came after us, and they’ve destroyed so many others, because they don’t value any life other than their own.”
“It is, which is why this will end up being a galvanizing event. We’ll fight harder because of the tragedy. But not today.” He hugged her closer. “It’s not fair of me to feel this way, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” She settled deeper into his arms—and abruptly straightened up. “Message from Thomas. Miriam wants to meet with me in twenty minutes.” The look she gave him conveyed too many sentiments to be readable. “Time to go to work.”
16
SIYANE
MILKY WAY SECTOR 53
* * *
ALEX RECOGNIZED THE SETTING the instant she entered the virtual space.
Her father had taken her to Camp Muir often when she was growing up, once she was old enough to make the first segments of the Mount Rainier climb. She had returned there multiple times after his death…in tribute, to be closer to her memory of him, and occasionally to torture herself.
Regardless, it was a perfect choice on Vii’s part, and the fact that the Artificial had chosen it eased any lingering doubts Alex had about whether she’d made the right decision in entrusting this precious treasure to Vii.
Her father sat on the ledge overlooking Columbia Crest. But as she began approaching, he sensed her presence and leapt up to turn and face her.
Because she’d witnessed the consequential final minutes of his life on the bridge of the EAS Stalwart when she was on Portal Prime—because she�
��d had his voice in her head mere months earlier—she’d thought she was ready for this. She’d thought she was ready to see him alive and in the virtual flesh.
She might have been wrong.
He looked a little older than in the fateful scene on the Stalwart. Since this was his own chosen representation of himself, it seemed an acknowledgment if not an admission of the decades that had passed. But the expressiveness of his face, the vivacity in his eyes, the natural movement of his body? It was all a perfect match.
A thousand memories flashed through her mind in the second it took for his gaze to fall upon her. Then a luminous smile broke across his face, and she nearly lost it.
“Alex. Bozhe moy, look at you. So grown up—of course you are. I know you are. But to see you….”
She closed the distance and sank into his embrace. Her breath caught in her throat; she could feel him. Warm skin, muscles creating a gentle grasp, heart beating. It was virtual, but here it was real. Here her father, lost for nearly twenty-five years, was hugging her and whispering in her ear Russian endearments she hadn’t heard since she was a child.
She drew back, wiping tears off her cheeks with her hand. She wanted to be able to see him.
“Oh, milaya, no. Don’t be sad.”
She gave him a shaky smile in return. “It’s not sadness, Dad. It’s joy.”
“If you’re sure. One can easily be mistaken for the other, especially in circumstances like these.”
“There have never been circumstances like these.” She glanced around. “But this is brilliantly rendered. Vii did a terrific job.”
“She did. She took exceptional care of me, while humoring even my most egregious petulances.”
Alex laughed. Had she forgotten his clever eloquence? “How do you feel?”
He squeezed her hands tight, then let them drop and motioned her toward the ledge. “How does one begin to answer that question? I feel like myself, or at least how I remember myself feeling. Memory is such a fragile, nebulous thing, yet more than any other aspect, it defines us. We are what we remember.”
Aurora Resonant: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 3) Page 50