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

by G. S. Jennsen

  Now, in the hangar bay of the Tamao, he approached his craft at a brisk but deliberate pace, letting his eyes pass over the tungsten shimmer of the sleek adiamene hull in appreciation. AEGIS vessels followed neither Alliance nor Federation design guidance; they instead took a third approach in striving to balance sturdiness, agility and firepower. In truth, the technological advances embodied in AEGIS designs were so significant that the vessels by and large exceeded Alliance ones in sturdiness, Federation ones in agility, and both in firepower.

  Though intellectually he recognized the reality that ninety percent of those advances had come about in the last two years, spurred on by the Metigen War and the rise of Prevos and unshackled Artificials, at times like these he nevertheless felt every day of the decades he’d missed.

  But ships still flew using impulse engines and sLume drives and still fired lasers and missiles, and those he knew how to make dance.

  David boarded the Rasant to find his two-man crew already at work. When he stepped through the airlock, however, they both drew to attention and saluted.

  “Commander Solovy.”

  “Sir, welcome aboard.”

  “At ease, gentlemen. Lieutenant Kofe, you’re the operations officer, and Lieutenant Olbert, you handle weapons and defenses, correct?” At their nods, he continued. “I appreciate the decorum, but I’m your superior officer only in the historical records.”

  “Respectfully, sir, you’re incorrect.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, sir. On board this ship, we obey your orders.”

  “And neither of you have a problem with this? If you do, please speak up. It’ll only land you in the brig for a week—kidding. I do that from time to time.”

  Kofe answered. “No problems, sir. Commandant Solovy tells us to jump, we jump.”

  “Smart men. How high?”

  “As high as we’re able. Higher if we can get our hands on some of those lift-assist boots the Marines hoard.”

  David dropped his chin to his chest briefly, allowing a wave of pride and amusement, tinged by sozhaleniye, to wash over him. So Miriam had gotten to them first. He rather adored her for it.

  He straightened up wearing a smile. “Good call on your part. She’s worthy of your allegiance, to say the least. All right, then. I run an informal ship. Do your jobs competently and swiftly, and we’ll have a grand time. If you disagree with an order I give you, if there’s time I encourage you to raise your concerns. If there’s not time, follow the order and hope we survive until there’s time to debate the matter afterward. Any questions?”

  “Only to ask if we can answer any for you, sir. The Rasant’s a brand new design, and we had to undergo extensive training on it. I expect many of the systems will be unfamiliar to you, given….” Olbert trailed off, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

  David shrugged and turned toward the cockpit, idly running his hand along the curving wall as he approached the pilot’s chair. “I recently had some free time to study up on AEGIS technology.” While I was a quantum construct of a consciousness living in a virtual space where days could last seconds or years at my whim. “I should be set, but I’m not above begging for help if I find myself out of my depth.”

  33

  LASTISI STELLAR SYSTEM

  AFS AMBERG

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 18

  * * *

  A STARSHIP THAT SEEMED to have been carved entirely from blown glass and be powered by light itself soared above and ahead of them. It stretched for at least two hundred meters, and in its path followed a fleet of vessels smaller in size but no less elegant in design, angels riding the wake of their guiding light.

  “Damn, are those the Novoloume ships?” Kofe rushed into the cockpit to peer out the viewport—and hurriedly drew back. “Sorry, sir.”

  “I’m gawking right along with you, Lieutenant.” David proceeded to do exactly that, staring out in awe alongside his officers. The ships glided across the stars like they were born among them, like they didn’t run on mechanical engines and volatile fuel. Hell, maybe they didn’t.

  That the Novoloume possessed such a fleet had apparently been the second-best-kept secret in Amaranthe (the truth of the Praesidis Primor not being Corradeo Praesidis and Corradeo Praesidis being Danilo Nisi and the leader of the anarchs was, ipso facto, the best kept one). That the fleet was both staggeringly beautiful and powered by heretofore unknown engineering principles was, to David’s mind, far more intriguing.

  The Novoloume leader, Dean Veshnael, had specifically requested for their fleet to participate in the Idoni mission. Though it wasn’t spoken of aloud, apparently the Novoloume harbored a particular loathing for the Idoni Dynasty. As it had been explained to him and Miriam, in their opinion the Idoni had taken the aspects of life Novoloume valued highest—beauty, pleasure, the pursuit of elusive joie de vivre—and debased and defiled them. Thus they intended to take special gratification in bombing the Idoni Primor’s gauchely opulent stronghold into dust.

  In a gesture of trust as well as thanks, Miriam had granted command of the space-faring portion of the Idoni mission to the commander of the Novoloume fleet. The AEGIS formations dispatched to the Idoni home system would take their orders from Pointe-Amiral Thisiame, so long as those orders remained consistent with the mission plan as well as overall operational directives.

  Given as no one had ever seen a single Novoloume or one of their vessels engage in a single hostile encounter, the AEGIS formations were here in part to ensure the mission didn’t crumble into abject failure. They were also here to observe and report back on the actions and performance of the Novoloume forces.

  Miriam knew a thing or two about building and hiding secret fleets, and the reasons one might do so. In this case the Novoloume’s reasons for doing so appeared to be in alignment with AEGIS interests, but it never hurt to double-check.

  Yep. His wife had assigned him to this mission rather than any other because she wanted a spy she could trust. He gave thanks for the trust and chuckled to himself at being asked by her to act as a spy. He also intended to quickly step in and take command if the Novoloume forces went sideways—he assumed the permission to do so was implicit in his presence here.

  Pointe-Amiral Thisiame (Idoni L2): “Wings Alpha I and Alpha II, commence attack maneuvers on target designated L2. AEGIS formations proceed in defensive maneuvers and prepare for counteroffensive response.”

  The small structures orbiting the gas giant, the fifth planet in the Lastisi system, didn’t look so different from the Saturn and Jupiter habitats back home; the semi-solid bubbles resembled molecular diagrams, with the flexible fibers connecting them standing in for chemical bonds. Even the Anadens hadn’t devised a way for organic life to live beneath the atmosphere of a gas giant.

  Two of the larger connected modules flashed red on the tactical map: target L2. The medical outpost, complete with advanced regenesis lab.

  In a matter of seconds the perimeter defenses went down, an act completed almost exclusively by long-range laser-based weapons on the lead Novoloume vessel. With the defenses disabled, the medical outpost now made for easy pickings.

  Still, firing on it gave David a moment’s pause, if only to allow for appreciation of the irony. He owed his renewed existence to many disparate things, but last and most concrete on the list was regenesis technology. In destroying this lab, he was taking away the next life from the Idoni Primor and a small segment of her progeny. But she’d existed for something like a million years—countless, endless life after life—and that was surely long enough in anyone’s estimation. As for the progeny, they had ceded their fate to their Primor’s whim nearly as long ago.

  So be it.

  He added his weapons fire to those of his comrades, and in less than twenty seconds the dual modules’ hulls ruptured, their air vented into space, and the resulting shards of metal were consumed by the volatile atmosphere of the gas giant. The Novoloume ships’ firepower was as impressive as their design, but this had also be
en the simplest part of the mission.

  Now haste became the overriding directive. Word of the destruction of the Idoni regenesis lab in SMC had arrived seconds earlier. This left one lab, and one life, to end.

  David executed a pinpoint sLume jump into the exosphere of Lastisi. Not until after he arrived did he realize he hadn’t waited on orders from Pointe-Amiral Thisiame before doing so. Oh, well. It was a large fleet that would take time to move to the third planet in the system—

  He jerked in the pilot’s chair as the entirety of the Novoloume fleet materialized off to his port. Or not.

  Pointe-Amiral Thisiame (Idoni L1): “AEGIS Lastisi-assigned formations and Wing Alpha III descend to the Lastisi surface, rendezvous point LS-X, and commence initial attack maneuvers on targets designated L1A and L1B.”

  “All right, gentlemen, you heard the order. Let’s have some fun.”

  “Was atmospheric traversal considered ‘fun’ back in the dark ages, sir?”

  “It’s all about perspective, Lieutenant Kofe.”

  “Yes, sir. Transferring forty percent of defensive shield power to Thermadap shield.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Because AEGIS vessels were designed with the prospect of an alien enemy and an alien realm front-and-center, their structure didn’t count on the regular availability of atmosphere corridors. To counteract the punishing abuse atmospheric traversals inflicted, a new mode of shielding had been devised. The Thermadap shield buffered and redirected up to eighty-five percent of the heat and energetic forces encountered before they ever reached the primary shielding, the hull or any external components.

  Given time, it was the kind of technology that might evolve into something to challenge the Imperiums’ formidable barrier shielding. Today, it simply made the ride down considerably less traumatic, for the crew and the ship.

  “We will be coming in low, fast and hot to take out the stronghold’s perimeter defenses. Our wingmen are the AFS Perth and the AFS Vilnius.”

  The atmosphere cleared to reveal a sky black as a moonless night in a starless void. The paltry ground lighting beyond the perimeter was overwhelmed by the thick and pervasive flora of a tropical ecosystem.

  David tapped a spot on the HUD and a near-infrared overlay spread across the viewport.

  “Full power returned to defensive shields.”

  “Thank you again, Lieutenant Kofe. Lieutenant Olbert, confirm we maintain a minimum of one hundred twenty percent of normal power capacity available for both weapons and propulsion.” The Thermadap shield was a welcome convenience, but it was barely out of testing and one hell of a power drain—power he was going to need if the situation got dicey.

  The Perth and the Vilnius joined him on each flank, and together they swept a scant twenty meters above a wide river for several seconds before reaching the large island the Idoni Primor called home.

  “Sir, active power is at full for all systems. Reserves are at thirty-two percent and rising.”

  “Excellent. Inform me if reserves drop below fifteen percent.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Commander Solovy (AFS Amberg)(Idoni L1): “Perimeter defense turret ring begins due north, distance 820 meters. Engage in four seconds.”

  Major Filben (AFS Perth)(Idoni L1): “Roger, Amberg.”

  Commander Jimenez (AFS Vilnius)(Idoni L1): “Roger.”

  “Olbert, fire at will on any and all turrets in range.”

  “Firing.”

  The black sky lit up around the streaks of their laser fire, then more broadly as the plasma beams of retaliation fire swept toward them in search of targets. His fingertips flowed lightly across the HUD as he spun the ship on its axis twice in a sixty degree climb, even as arcalaser fire continued to stream from his bow in a mirrored trajectory to impact one of the firing turrets.

  A familiar rush of adrenaline warmed his blood vessels through to his skin from the inside out. His senses heightened and sharpened to take in a wide breadth of information all at once—more information than he could give name to but all integrating into his full perception of the tactical situation.

  Two turrets eliminated, four remaining—three.

  Temporary loss of environmental cover in 0.4 kilometers above seventy-eight meters, adjust vertical trajectory by 33 degrees to stay within cover.

  Ideal range to the next turret will be reached in 2.3 seconds at the current velocity—

  Boulders from a cliff to his starboard tumbled through the air, severed from their moorings by a stray turret beam without a target.

  He sensed their approach the same instant the sensors did. A minute flick of his wrist and the ship swerved a few dozen meters to avoid the imminent collision, then immediately resumed course.

  David smiled.

  LASTISI

  IDONI HOMEWORLD

  MILKY WAY SECTOR 18

  If asked to describe their expectations of Lastisi, most people would reference the most popular entertainment centers—Plousia Chateau, Taras Cathedral, Akroti Aventa. Those who had never visited Lastisi imagined kilometers of spring-heated pools, armies of masseuse drones, overflowing spreads of fruits and desserts lining the paths, flowing rivers of tsipouro and, last but not least, rampant nudity.

  It was a fairly accurate picture of the environment inside the Primor’s compound, but the rest of the planet was, more often than not, another story.

  All those hypnols had to be invented somewhere. Then they had to be manufactured somewhere. All those performers, willing and otherwise, had to be screened, judged and trained somewhere. While these events took place in other locations as well, the Primor’s penchant for control being what it was meant all Idoni endeavors began and radiated outward from here.

  Eren knew this already, having graced Lastisi with his presence twice in his previous life of debauchery, but several of the anarchs with him expressed disappointment on learning that factories and labs far outnumbered waterfalls and orgies.

  The Primor’s planetside regenesis lab stood a kilometer from the main compound, safely separate and apart from the depravities that did go on inside it. A Caeles Prism wormhole deposited the ground incursion team’s transport a scant dozen meters above the roof of the compound, and the sights and sounds of powerful lasers from the aerial strike team tearing into the lab and all surrounding structures greeted them on their arrival.

  They’d emerged well inside the defensive perimeter, but the defensive perimeter also now appeared to be rubble. The forward strike teams had been quite busy, not to mention effective.

  Eren had lobbied hard for a very simple mission plan: he would walk alone through a little person-sized wormhole into the Primor’s innermost lair, drive a blade through one of her eyes into her brain and walk out through the same wormhole—or die to her guards, whichever proved easiest. But Xanne, Brigadier Jenner and Commandant Solovy had all insisted that his plan left too much to chance, including and most prominently the chance that he might not reach the Primor before her guards felled him.

  Fair enough. So instead three other anarch agents and a squad of AEGIS Marines accompanied him. They would blast their way into the compound as close as possible to the Primor’s innermost lair and fight through the rest of the way.

  He damn well better get to be the one to deliver the killing blow, though. The bitch owed him. She hadn’t controlled his mind in a century, but she’d made him what he was, demanded he be it, and the humiliation of serving as her unwitting slave still stung like yesterday’s wound. He felt as if he’d never truly be able to move on, to quiet his demons and make a go of salvaging a worthwhile life for himself, until she was gone. Denouement met. Ashes scattered to the winds.

  He nodded to himself as a laser burned a hole through the roof below and the hatch of the transport opened. Good pep talk.

  Drae ela-Machim, his anarch partner tonight in Cosime’s absence, clasped his shoulder. “Are you set?”

  “Never been more set.”

  Drae motioned toward the open hatch
. Eren followed a Marine out of the transport, into the air and through the gash in the roof, then activated the dampeners to land with a modicum of grace on the shiny tile floor. His not-quite-good-as-new leg protested on impact, but he so did not care.

  They’d targeted their insertion expertly, and according to the schematic of the compound they only had three rooms to fight through to reach their target. But alarms were ringing and an increasing buzz heralded the approach of drones, so fighting there would definitely be. For the Marines, at least.

  He considered the far door for a second, and when no armed guards burst through it, decided the Marines could catch up. As gunfire erupted from the opposite end of the hallway and the Marines engaged compound security, Eren Veiled and made his way toward the door.

  In a frothing bath sunken into the center of the floor of her spacious bedchamber, the Idoni Primor soaked herself amidst the bubbles. Her arms stretched out in either direction along the brim, which was crafted entirely of sparkling aquamarine gemstones. A mane of golden curls spilled down over her breasts into the water, where they floated lazily among the froth—the curls and the breasts. Beyond the bath and up three tiers, in the rear of the room two men, an Idoni and a Naraida, lay sprawled atop tousled bedcovers, naked and seemingly used up. Over against the left wall, a Novoloume servant arranged a platter of fruits at an elaborate bar.

  The Primor’s gaze fell on Eren immediately. Her head tilted in idle curiosity while a fingertip dipped into a crystal bowl beside her. “I know your face, anarch.” She brought her fingertip to her mouth and sucked it dry of gods only feared what hypnol. “You have been a most troublesome little asi of late. Have you come here to repent, to fall to your knees and beg to be allowed to return to the fold? Fair warning—you’ll be on those knees for a while.”

  For a second he was actually rendered speechless. She must know the compound was under attack; she likely even knew her regenesis labs were being destroyed. Still, she lounged in her sumptuous luxury as if nothing was amiss. Did she have such blind, dogged faith that her defenses would not fall? Was she too high for the severity of the crisis to penetrate her hypnol-soaked mind? Or…did she simply not care? Had she lived for too long and indulged in too many depravities to be able to summon up the slightest energy to fight for her continued existence?