Aurora Resonant: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 3)

by G. S. Jennsen

  “Commandant, welcome. How does the campaign fare on the other side?”

  He roamed the room rather than sit behind his desk, so she adopted a parade rest stance in the center. “Complicated, sir.”

  “Yes, I’ve been receiving your official reports, the few there have been.”

  “Circumstances dictate that portal traversal be a rare event, which limits communication opportunities.”

  “I’m aware of the restrictions. So to what do I owe your own traversal and personal visit?”

  Her visage set into grim fortitude. “I regret to inform you of the death of Fleet Admiral Christopher Rychen, along with 23,818 crew members aboard the EAS Virginia during an engagement with Anaden forces.”

  Gagnon’s face blanched for a breath. “Twenty-three thousand? Was the Virginia destroyed? Because I was under the impression that was impossible.”

  “Nearly impossible, sir. A confluence of variables led to the improbable becoming the reality. I of course take full responsibility for the loss.”

  “Are we losing?”

  “The war?” She paused. “It is…complicated.”

  “You said that before. I’m certain it is, but I’m committing a significant majority of the Alliance’s naval forces to this effort, leaving us exposed here at home. If I’m committing them to a doomed endeavor, I much prefer to know this now, while most of the forces are still alive and the vessels are still intact.”

  “The only way the mission is doomed, sir, is if we abandon the fight and retreat home, and to do so will doom everyone. Our adversary accepts only two forms of surrender: slavery or extermination. They will not stop searching for a way to inflict one of them upon us simply because we leave.”

  “Fine. But there must be some victory condition short of dismantling, or overthrowing entirely, the power structure of another realm, one we have no vested interest in beyond keeping them out of ours. Have you looked into the possibility of destroying the Metis portal? Then these Anadens would never be able to reach us, and we would be free to follow our own path forward.”

  “Sir, if you had been to Amaranthe, you would not suggest such a course of action.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. Protecting everyone living here at home is and will always be my first and highest priority. But we are not in the habit of turning a blind eye to the immoral suffering of others. If we are to call ourselves liberators, liberating is what we must do. Genocide, slavery and rampant oppression of basic rights have been inflicted unchecked in Amaranthe for a very long time. Having witnessed it, I could not live with myself if we withdrew into ourselves to lock the door, shut off the lights and hope the Anadens don’t find another way to come for us—and neither should you.”

  His bearing didn’t falter, skilled politician that he was. “I understand. In a perfect world, I readily agree. But if this is a fight we cannot win, then we need to instead do what we can to protect our own people. So I will ask you again. Are we losing?”

  When no one outranked you to whom you might defer, there was no option left but to give straight answers. “No, we are not. As of today, we are also not winning. But we have been victorious in every engagement save the last one, and we are working on several alternative strategies I anticipate will go a long way to ensuring defeat doesn’t happen a second time. We are forging new alliances as I speak, and these allies can help us exploit our enemy’s weaknesses. In my opinion, we will win. We will find a way.”

  He stared at her silently for several seconds. “So it appears I’m in need of a new fleet admiral. Care to return to the job?”

  After the dressing down he’d just delivered? Had the attempt at humiliation merely been for show, or so he would be able to rest easy tonight believing he’d done his job?

  “Thank you, sir, but I should decline. I cannot perform the full duties of the position adequately from Amaranthe, as there is work to be done on behalf of the Alliance here as well.

  “I am, however, willing to take operational command of the Alliance forces serving in Amaranthe under the AEGIS banner. I don’t need a title, simply an executive order from you directing all officers assigned to AEGIS to follow my orders. Appoint General Haraken as Chairman of the EASC Board, which will give him effective authority over matters here.”

  “And when the Alliance forces return from Amaranthe?”

  “A decision for another day, Prime Minister. Events are moving quickly, and the reality of today is unlikely to resemble the reality that exists when you need to make such a decision.”

  “True enough, Commandant. I’ll grant your requests, but I implore you: protect our people, then bring them home.”

  20

  ANARCH POST SATUS

  LOCATION UNKNOWN

  * * *

  NISI’S GAZE FIXED KEENLY ON CALEB as soon as he entered the man’s office. “It wasn’t an appropriate topic to bring up during the meeting with Ambassador Requelme, but you’ve recently encountered another Inquisitor, haven’t you?”

  Caleb shrugged nonchalantly. “What makes you say that?”

  “The power now accompanying your presence is nearly making the windows vibrate.” He glanced toward one of the windows, which hung placidly in place. “Or should be. Perhaps I am overly sensitive to it. What happened?”

  Caleb sat down on one of the couches and dropped his elbows to his knees. He wasn’t quite so relaxed as the pose suggested, but it didn’t hurt to act it. “Actually, I encountered the same Inquisitor. When we went to rescue some of your agents at Plousia Chateau on Serifos, the Inquisitor who interrogated me at Helix Retention was onsite. Nyx is her name.”

  “Indeed. A powerful elasson Inquisitor. And you claimed all of her diati?”

  He shook his head. “Not this time. She teleported away while she still controlled enough to manage an escape. But here’s the weird thing. I can’t be certain, but I think I did take it all at Helix Retention. So how is it she again commanded so much of it? Does it replenish itself?”

  “No. But I imagine the Primor gifted her a small portion of his own. There are only twelve elasson Inquisitors, and all of them are his most favored pets. But if one is more precious to him than any, it would be Nyx.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “It is my responsibility to know such things.” Nisi turned aside. “What do you imagine you can do with this increased power?”

  “Whatever I need to do.”

  “Which is?”

  “Can’t say yet. We’ll see as it comes.”

  “Oh?”

  Caleb leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “That will always be the answer. When I only need a little—enough to, say, create a pocket of breathable air in space for Alex or myself—then that’s what I’ll use it for. If or when I need more—enough to teleport us out of danger or disable a cadre of attackers, for instance—then I hope what I have will be enough to do what I need to do.”

  “So power for power’s sake doesn’t interest you?”

  “Does it interest you?”

  Nisi stared at him for a second, a touch of amusement flickering in his abyssal eyes. “Fair enough. I did not mean to insinuate you were desirous of greater glory. I ask merely out of genuine curiosity.”

  The Sator was smooth, Caleb had to concede. Nothing in the man’s demeanor betrayed the lie. “Don’t get me wrong. I won’t deny I take pride in being skilled. The diati amplifies what I can do, but I’ve always been…capable.”

  “No question, or it wouldn’t have chosen you as a vessel.”

  “So you say. But power is a tool, and a tool for what is up to its wielder. I learned this early in my career. My blade doesn’t have a moral preference. Neither does my gun, and neither does the diati.”

  “It did once.”

  It had been a quiet murmur, and Caleb frowned. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing relevant. In light of this latest encounter and the resulting increase in your power, what do you wish to cover today
? Additional teleportation practice?”

  Caleb had gotten the sense from the diati visions that it once exhibited some degree of morality, but it had faded away long ago. Nisi obviously knew more about the diati than the amount he controlled suggested, but how much more? Did it whisper to the man in his sleep as well?

  He didn’t bother to ask, knowing he couldn’t trust the answer. “No, I’ve got the teleportation down. I’ve been thinking. Eren mentioned there were a few Praesidis anarchs. I want to meet one, or all, of them.”

  “No.”

  Nisi was rarely so direct, and Caleb regarded him suspiciously. “Why not?”

  “You would likely claim their diati, after which, wonderful people though they are, they would be of considerably less value to me—to the anarchs—and to themselves. As they are not your enemy, I assume you have no specific desire to render them weak.”

  “I don’t, I just….” Caleb sighed. “I guess I’d just like to know good Praesidis exist out there. That they aren’t all flat-out evil.”

  “Why does this matter to you?”

  “They’re my…relatives. Ancestors, descendants, something in between. I should feel some kinship with them, but the Praesidis I’ve met so far, I do not recognize.”

  “They are not all evil, Caleb, even those who are not anarchs. You may take my word on this. Most have simply never been given the opportunity to choose to be other than what they were born to be.”

  “Because of the integral.”

  “Yes, and their precisely crafted genetic codes. They are designed to be talented in their specific fields, but they are also designed to be loyal.”

  “They’re still individuals, as every Anaden anarch has proved by defying their predilections.”

  Nisi conceded the point with a tilt of his head. “It is true genetics are not everything. But the Directorate, and Primor Erevna in particular, have perfected their configurations to the point where they count for a great deal—far more than for your people.”

  “I understand. But….” A tingling began to ripple beneath his skin, growing in intensity until his ears buzzed loudly. It was familiar in sensation but not in tenor…and it was not the diati.

  He cleared his throat and stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  PALAEMON

  ANARCH POST EPSILON

  The mood among those who arrived at Post Epsilon from the AEGIS fleet remained somber and reserved. Practically speaking, this was for the best, as the solemnity diffused a couple of early misunderstandings when soldiers encountered their first aliens in a suboptimal manner. Alex didn’t want her mother to face a new row with the anarchs on her return, so she and Caleb were trying to help ease the tension of the initial encounters.

  Alex made her way to the Administrator’s office. She was also trying to fill in for Mia on matters that didn’t require full diplomatic regalia while their new Ambassador was back in Aurora. Her level of success thus far was questionable.

  But she was trying, which meant everything else had to be put on hold until her mother and Mia returned, hopefully with Devon in tow.

  As she crossed one of the many bridges at the post, Valkyrie interrupted her harried musing.

  I’ve received a peculiar message from Mesme.

  Do I need to point out the redundancy in that statement?

  Not particularly. Mesme expressed concern that it had unintentionally caused Eren some distress and indicated you might want to check in on him.

  Eren, distressed? I’ll believe it when I see it. Did he taunt Mesme with an especially cutting barb or something?

  Mesme was not specific—

  A buzzing sensation leapt to life under her skin, without impetus or obvious cause. It wasn’t painful, but it was…urgent? Why did she think it was urgent?

  Valkyrie, is something wrong with my cybernetics?

  Running diagnostics…no. All systems are functioning within normal parameters.

  So what is this?

  Your body has not recently been infiltrated by any type of foreign substance or virus. This leaves several possibilities, and I believe you are familiar with all of them.

  She reached the central building, briefly stood in front of the entrance wearing a blank stare, then spun and headed back in the opposite direction toward the Siyane.

  Whatever this was, she needed to figure it out. Also, she wasn’t going to be able to begin to concentrate on sweet-talking Latro or coaxing soldiers into playing nice with aliens so long as the sensation continued. She wasn’t a diplomat to begin with, and it took all her faculties to pretend to be even a mediocre one.

  She more or less let Valkyrie navigate the bridges and walkways to reach the Siyane, while she focused on listening to the strange noise within her. It felt almost like…she stopped in the middle of a walkway, closed her eyes and let the buzzing completely fill her mind.

  No explanation made itself known, and she had no logic to back it up, but she could swear the sensation carried on its vibrations a single thought:

  HELP

  She and Caleb reached the Siyane seconds apart.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, intensity in his grasp. “Good, I was coming to find you. Do you feel it, too?”

  Her brow knotted in surprise. It hadn’t occurred to her that he could be experiencing the sensation as well. “I feel something, yes.”

  “It’s Akeso.”

  “Are you sure?” But even as she said it, she realized it must be the right answer. The only answer.

  “It’s not the diati—the vibe is completely different—and I don’t have any other sentient life forms swimming around in my body.” He frowned. “I don’t think. Anyway, that’s the one we share. So if you feel it, too, it has to be Akeso.”

  She nodded. “I get the sense it’s asking for help. And it seems…desperate.”

  He pivoted and jogged up the ramp into the ship. “Let’s go.”

  She followed him, but after the airlock had closed, she paused outside the cockpit. “With my mother and Mia gone, I hate to leave the post unattended.”

  “It won’t be. There are several flag officers on the ground right now. I passed Escarra on the way here, so send him a message and ask him to take over for a little while, or to request that Bastian come groundside. We got everything started and the initial kinks worked out. The people here will be fine for a few days, but Akeso might not be.”

  She shook her head and settled into the cockpit chair. “Then we’ve no time to waste. Valkyrie, contact Mesme. We need a portal into the Mosaic.”

  21

  AURORA

  PRESIDIO

  GCDA HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  RICHARD NAVICK MET MIRIAM AT THE DOOR to his office with a warm hug. “I’m so glad to see you alive and in one piece.”

  She silently followed him into the office. He’d added a small conference table while she’d been gone, and they sat together at it now.

  “I heard about Rychen from the intel burst. I am sorry. But he was as good as they come, and I’m sure there was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened.”

  How did he know the dark place her thoughts refused to leave, and without her having spoken a single word? Probably for the same reason he was the only person, other than Alex, to whom she’d dare express those dark thoughts of weakness, of doubt. “There was everything I could have done to prevent it.”

  “Miriam—”

  “I could have removed my head from my ass, for starters. I forwent caution and exhaustive preparation in favor of another grandiose show of force. I assumed the adversary would do what they’ve done before since no way are they as clever as us. And in doing so I got Christopher killed. I got more than twenty thousand people under my command killed.”

  It had come out in a torrent of bitter recrimination, and she hurriedly fought to reign the flaring emotions in. She was comfortable speaking truthfully to him, but she still had manners.

  “Don’t you think you’re
putting a little too much of the blame on yourself?”

  “That’s what being in charge means, Richard.”

  “I get it, I do. On an institutional level, yes, you have to bear the responsibility of every loss. I mean personally. The only thing that happened was you met a formidable enemy on the field of battle and, as has been reported to happen in war, you took a blow.”

  “We certainly did.” She sighed, shedding another layer of the rigid formality she’d held in place for the meeting with Gagnon. “This is horribly callous of me…I should be thinking about how I just lost a friend who has always had my back. And I am. But mostly what I’m thinking about is the cold, ruthless calculus of the damn war, and the calculus tells me I just lost my best battlefield commander and tactician, as well as my best adviser.

  “And since I’m in charge, I don’t get to mourn, personally or logistically. I have to move forward, adapt and find a way to win without him—not tomorrow or next week, but now.”

  “You can take a day, Miriam.”

  “No, I can’t. I made this trip because it was my obligation to deliver the news to the Prime Minister in person, but more so because only he has the authority to transfer operational control of the Alliance forces in Amaranthe to me. Cold, ruthless calculus. Rychen dies and I get more power, because I must. Now I need to hurry back to Amaranthe and see to finding a way to win. Without my best battlefield commander.”

  She exhaled. It was possible there was some value in letting pent-up frustrations out. “But first…do you mind if I vent a bit more?”

  “Not in the slightest. I’ll help if I can, but if I can’t, I’m happy to listen.” His smile was kind and honest, carrying only the faintest hint of amusement at her unseemly display of emotion.