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

by G. S. Jennsen

  He laughed faintly and drew her closer until her forehead rested on his and his hand rested along the curve of her neck. “Wherever you want, baby.”

  PART V:

  SECRETS, LIES &

  SPACETIME MANIFOLDS

  “The way of paradoxes is the way of truth. To test Reality we must see it on the tight-rope.”

  — Oscar Wilde

  27

  MW SECTOR 49 STORAGE DEPOT

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 49

  * * *

  THE TINY FIGURE IN A POWERED HAZARD SUIT moved across the hull of the mammoth superdreadnought like a speck of dust sent adrift by an ill wind.

  The Vigil agent—a low-level Machim officer or a Praesidis Watchman, or possibly even a newly minted asi Inquisitor not yet confident in their diati’s ability to keep them alive in space—paused to attach the tracker dot at what must appear to their eyes to be an inconspicuous location on the sleek metal of the hull.

  After securing it, they maneuvered farther down the hull, under and over to the other side, where they placed a second tracker dot 22.3° and 198 meters off the location of the first one.

  Presumably satisfied with their work and assured of their clandestine execution of it, the Vigil agent thrusted across the gap to the other Provision Network supply vessel docked at the MW Sector 49 Storage Depot, where they painstakingly repeated the procedure upon it.

  Lakhes gave the equivalent of an existential sigh. When the vessels departed the Depot, they would travel some twelve hundred parsecs distance before idling long enough for a Katasketousya to remove the tracker dots. The vessels would then proceed on an alternate course to their designated portal while the tracker dots were ferried off to somewhere in the void and deposited.

  It was a thankless duty, but in the wake of the destruction of Katoikia, Lakhes had found no shortage of volunteers anxious to help in the struggle but lacking any tangible way to do so.

  A ripple in dimensions caught Lakhes’ attention; the next second Mnemosyne’s essence settled into stillness nearby. Before a greeting could be imparted, a similar ripple on the opposite side heralded the arrival of Hyperion.

  Lakhes allowed itself an interval of…wry amusement, the Humans might label it. Breaths earlier—months as Amaranthe counted time—the three of them had argued to great consequence above a lake on Aurora Thesi. Now they gathered in, if not friendship, at least peace, in a time of war.

  Hyperion: They persist in their attempts to track the provision vessels?

  Lakhes: They do. They have escalated to placing two tracking devices on each vessel, in the presumed hope that we will cease searching when we discover the first one.

  Mnemosyne fluttered in consternation. They are aware that we are aware that they are attempting to track the vessels to a portal, and further that we are actively thwarting their attempts to do so, yet they continue nonetheless?

  Lakhes: The resources expended to do so on their part are minimal. It is, one must presume, worth the expenditure of those resources to continue, on the infinitesimal chance we will eventually err and neglect to remove one of the devices. I needn’t remind you, we only need err once to put the Mosaic in grave peril.

  Mnemosyne: No, you needn’t. They are not sending fleets chasing after every vessel, then?

  Lakhes allowed a touch of mirth to animate the response. The first two times they did indeed send a fleet to follow the tracker’s trail. After this trail twice led to naught but void, and a notably distant void at that, they scaled back their efforts. Now a single scout ship arrives to investigate the final registered location and send the portal activation signal in all directions.

  Hyperion: But if a portal were to then open, I assume the fleet would arrive in due course.

  Lakhes: I assume so as well.

  The Vigil officer finished their clandestine work and powered off toward a side entrance of the Depot.

  Mnemosyne: There has been activity in Enisle Eleven. Alexis inquires whether its Analystae, or the Conclave in toto, intervened to enable or accelerate said activity.

  Lakhes: Your Human friends did quite the intervening themselves.

  Mnemosyne: As they do. Were we responsible for triggering this event, or no?

  Hyperion: Our work in the Mosaic carries greater significance than ever now, and time is precious. They have no right or authority to judge our actions.

  Mnemosyne: Lakhes?

  Lakhes: No, we were not. The species inhabiting Enisle Eleven is merely more skilled and resourceful than the Humans appreciate. A most unique and fascinating species.

  Mnemosyne: Thank you. I will convey your response.

  They watched as the first of the provision vessels departed from the long exterior docks, its hold depleted of resources, and sped away on its false course.

  Hyperion: So this farcical game continues, to no benefit.

  The energy comprising Mnemosyne’s presence rippled with new vigor. Should we desire to provoke its cessation, we could devise a trap.

  Lakhes: How so?

  Mnemosyne: We could deposit a confiscated tracking device at a portal’s location and allow a scout ship to discover it. They will call in their fleet, and the fleet will traverse the portal—but instead of leading into the Mosaic, we will have set up an isolated space on the other side containing only a dimensional shifting device.

  Hyperion: I admit, leading a Machim fleet in circles for an appreciable period of time would carry some amusement, but what you are suggesting will take significant effort on our part, to no real end. We have meaningful battles to wage. Or we will, should the Humans determine to re-engage the enemy.

  Mnemosyne grew yet more energetic, but did not launch into the defense of the Humans Lakhes anticipated after Hyperion’s mild barb. Perhaps it is not a circle we lead them in. We can control with a high degree of precision where they find themselves when they exit the dimensional shift. Perhaps the location is somewhere deadly—the photosphere of a star, say.

  Lakhes experienced genuine surprise. Mnemosyne, I did not expect such shrewd artifice from you, arguably laced with a trace of bloodlust. The Humans are influencing you.

  Mnemosyne: They have much to teach, I admit. Their zeal for life can become infectious—

  Hyperion: And their zeal for ending it?

  Ah. There was the acerbity. But Mnemosyne again did not rise to the bait.

  Mnemosyne: Is necessary for the living of it. I believe they would welcome the elimination of a sizeable Machim fleet, and would rather enjoy its elimination in this particular fashion.

  Hyperion: On this we are in agreement. I daresay I would experience satisfaction from it as well.

  Lakhes’ wry amusement renewed. It seemed more than one positive outcome stood to emerge from this greatest of crises.

  28

  CHIONIS

  ANARCH POST ALPHA

  * * *

  EREN AWOKE TO FEATHERS TICKLING HIS NOSE.

  Which didn’t make any sense.

  He suppressed a sneeze then carefully opened his eyes, to find it wasn’t feathers at all—it was Cosime’s downy hair.

  Which didn’t make much more sense than feathers.

  He tried to think back to how this particular situation had come to be, but his brain was a groggy, tangled jumble of half-retained thoughts and jigsaw images. No longer excruciating pain, though…

  …because it had been in excruciating pain earlier. He had been.

  He remembered, too much and not enough.

  He’d talked to her despite the pain, without the strength, will or clarity of thought to maintain a filter on the words he spoke. At some point he’d fallen asleep—doubtless mid-sentence of some horror tale. But she hadn’t left, and she must have eventually fallen asleep herself.

  Now she was snuggled up against him, and his arms held her close. She still wore her clothes, but they were flimsy gossamer, as they always were, and bare skin rose and fell beneath his palm resting on her stomach.

  How was it possi
ble she had allowed him to touch her after the evils he’d given voice to?

  Or had she? Likely she’d simply drawn closer in sleep, incognizant of what she’d done. Or maybe he’d taken advantage while she slept and—

  Before he could properly panic or even start to decide what their current situation meant, how it had happened or what to do about it, she wiggled around to face him as she rubbed at sleepy eyes. “Morning.”

  “Good morning—or midday?” He perked up in spite of himself, so damn relieved she hadn’t shrunk away in disgust when awareness dawned.

  One hurdle cleared, his memories of the preceding hours began to reform and gain coherence. After he’d finished spilling his guts all over her, the bed and much of the floor, she’d asked him if the incident at the fete with the Faneros was the worst thing he’d ever done, or almost done. He’d answered honestly, since he’d lacked the presence of mind to do anything else. He’d said probably not, but any worse things he’d probably done he’d been too high to remember in the aftermath.

  She’d merely nodded, but an overdose of hypnols then didn’t prevent him from remembering now the ripple of darkness that had passed in a grim shadow across her sparkling eyes.

  The shadow wasn’t there now. And she’d stayed. Stayed.

  He lifted his hand off the small of her back, where it had naturally slid to when she rolled over, and held it high out of the way. “Want to flee? I’ll understand.”

  She shook her head, sending wisps of mussed hair to tickle his nose again.

  “Okay, but whenever you decide you do, I’ll still understand. Until such time, thank you. For everything, including enduring the dreadfully embarrassing things I hope I never remember saying or doing.”

  He brought his hand down to rest safely atop his own thigh. “So, not to get ahead of things like showers and food and possibly haircuts, but I have an idea I want to try to pull off.”

  She peered at him skeptically. “Sobriety?”

  He swallowed and tried to regain the breath she’d just punched out of him, then offered her an uncertain smile. “Fair request. No promises, but…I’ll try to do better. To be better.”

  “Good enough. Of course, anything that doesn’t end with us both covered in your blood is technically ‘better.’ ”

  “What about missions?”

  “I’d prefer you not spill blood during those, either. But I concede the point.”

  “Good, because what I was going to say is I have an idea for a mission. Exobiology Research Lab #4.”

  She sat up to prop against the wall, adjust her spiraire beneath her nose and stretch out her limbs. “You want to try again to blow it up?”

  “No. Well, maybe at the end, sure. But I want to try to rescue the prisoners inside.”

  “You said they weren’t worth trying to rescue—that if they didn’t have the courage to fight for their own freedom, we couldn’t help them.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. They only need to be given a chance, and a little help finding their way.”

  She pondered on it a minute. “I’m glad to hear you say so. But I don’t think we have the resources to break into the Lab, free the prisoners and get them out and to safety.”

  He climbed over her, stood and, once he realized the shards of broken glass had been cleaned away, started pacing. The undercurrent of nausea the movement induced was mostly buried beneath the fire of conviction. Admittedly, though, he did need a shower, then another shower. He’d make it happen, soon.

  “We definitely don’t have the resources to pull off such a stunt—but the Humans do.”

  “You think they’ll help us?”

  “Oh, yes. Trust me, they love a good virtuous rescue, and they also happen to be excellent at them.” He paused to give her another, more confident smile. “Kind of like you are.”

  29

  AFS SARATOGA

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 17

  * * *

  MALCOLM RUBBED AT HIS TEMPLES and tried again to concentrate on the supply reports in front of him.

  He should have gotten this done earlier, before Miriam’s transport left for home. That way they could have brought back replacements for any supplies that were falling to dangerously low levels. But he hadn’t gotten it done.

  He wished he was able to blame the delay on the added work involved in getting set up at the anarch base and developing rules and procedures for its use, travel to and from, interactions with aliens and so on. Those tasks took time for certain, but in truth the inventory review could have been completed in a fraction of the time he’d spent moping over their losses at the Sagittae Gateway battle. Or the time he’d spent with Mia the night before she left for home—the time being the entire night—but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty for the indulgence.

  Still, he needed to do better if he wanted to be worthy of his rank. When he was the operations officer for the 3rd BC brigade in Vancouver, he’d been good at this sort of management task. He knew perfectly well how to do it. He simply needed to do it.

  So he lifted his shoulders and focused.

  Automated systems took care of tracking the depletion and subsequent requisitioning of most items used in everyday matters. But a number of larger, more specialized and more expensive equipment and supplies were lost in the disastrous Sagittae Arx explosion that took out the Virginia and multiple smaller ships. Most of what was lost fell within the responsibility of the flight supply officers and wasn’t his problem, but an SF recon-interdiction vessel was destroyed as well as two AEGIS hybrid tactical craft, and with them a variety of materials. When added to assorted other collateral damage, the ground forces were down some tools of their trade.

  » -22 each of splinter, flashbang, EM grenades / Responsible Party: IDCC RRF Operations

  » -44 enhanced plasma blades / Responsible Party: AEGIS Marine Oversight

  » -12 tactical mines / Responsible Party: SF MSO Operations

  » -16 TSG augments / Responsible Party: EA MSO Operations

  Having gotten a feel for the general nature and scope of the deficits, he began scanning faster down the list.

  » -6 pairs of EM weave tactical gloves / Responsible Party: AEGIS Marine Oversight

  » -1 Reverb / Responsible Party: IDCC RRF Operations

  He continued down the list past another couple of items before jumping back up. How had a Reverb been lost? What had one been doing on any of the combat ships at all?

  He’d only reluctantly allowed a few to be brought to Amaranthe in the first place. Like many of the tools Marines employed, Reverbs were dangerous, but in this case they were only dangerous to their own people. ASCEND didn’t understand nearly enough about the Anadens’ cybernetics to adapt the devices to be of any use against the enemy. Not yet. So he was of the opinion the still-experimental device didn’t need to be here.

  He checked the background information on the originating report; as he’d thought, all the Reverbs were stored in the IDCC locker on AEGIS’ auxiliary support vessel, the AFS Columbia, which meant none were present at the battle. The discrepancy was flagged as part of a comprehensive supply check Miriam had ordered before she left, and it had made its way to this list because the Reverbs didn’t fall within the automated replenishment system.

  The fact it hadn’t been lost in the battle meant its disappearance was far more troubling.

  Though the crime rate in any military organization was low compared to civilian populations, crime did occur. Most incidents fell under the rubric of ‘crimes of passion’—in other words, fights. But bad actors occasionally slipped through the screening process and made it into the military, and thefts, aggravated assaults, rapes and, very rarely, murders did happen. Given the nature of the Reverb device, he couldn’t discount the possibility it had been stolen for a criminal purpose.

  The devices were technically IDCC RRF property, on loan to AEGIS along with a lot of other equipment and people. He sent Harper a message to drop by when she got a moment, then continued working
through the list.

  Harper cleared her throat in the open doorway. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  Malcolm motioned her inside, toward the chair opposite his desk. “At ease, Captain.” He passed her the secondary list he’d compiled of IDCC supply depletions. “Requisitions request for the next supply run to the Presidio.”

  “Didn’t we just send—”

  “We did.” He shrugged. “It’s been a challenging couple of days.”

  “The master of understatement, as always.” Her eyes darted back and forth as she reviewed the list. “This doesn’t seem too bad. Only the grenades are arguably critical, and I can borrow some from Alliance Supply Ops if needed. They always overstock everything.”

  “True. One more thing. It’s not on the resupply list because I continue to be of the opinion we don’t need them, but the IDCC locker on the Columbia is down a Reverb. You might want to have an MP take a look and try to determine if it was stolen. I don’t relish the idea of one of those devices being loose among the troops.”

  “How many does the report say are accounted for?”

  “Three.”

  Her chin lowered, taking her focus to the floor. “None are missing. Three is how many we brought.”

  “The initial supply report was wrong?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “So it wasn’t wrong?”

  “It’s…one Reverb is out on loan. I thought I’d be able to reacquire it, so I included it in the initial number. But I haven’t had the chance to follow up on it yet.” She nodded sharply. “My mistake, sir. I’ll take care of it ASAP.”

  “It’s on loan to someone in the fleet? In that case, it should have been checked out and recorded in the system—in IDCC’s system, then transferred into AEGIS’ system when this operation began.”