Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (107 page)

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Authors: G. S. Jennsen

Tags: #science fiction, #Space Warfare, #scifi, #SciFi-Futuristic, #science fiction series, #sci-fi space opera, #Science Fiction - General, #space adventure, #Scif-fi, #Science Fiction/Fantasy, #Science Fiction - Space Opera, #Space Exploration, #Science Fiction - High Tech, #Spaceships, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Sci-fi, #science-fiction, #Space Ships, #Sci Fi, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #space travel, #Space Colonization, #space fleets, #Science Fiction - Adventure, #space fleet, #Space Opera

BOOK: Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection
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“Oh.” She melted under the intensity of his gaze. “Where did it go? Did you see?”

He motioned behind them, beyond the plateau. “I’ve no idea how far. It vanished from view after the first dip in the land.”

Her eyes followed the direction he indicated. The peaceful, natural terrain continued unabated to the horizon and offered no clues as to the secrets it held. “That’s where we go then.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, resolute. “It owes me some answers. Owes us both answers.”

“Okay.”

“Here’s the problem: it sounds like the aliens don’t look like anything at all. I don’t know how many of them are here or a thing about them except they understand English and are supremely arrogant, yet can be reasoned with. But as to where to find them? This isn’t space. I don’t know the rules of the wilderness quite so well. Or at all.”

“Then it’s a good thing I do.”

“It is. I mean, you found me hidden away deep in the mountains, didn’t you?” She kissed him, long and deliciously slow, before climbing to her feet to scrutinize the copse on the off chance there might be a breadcrumb or a directional arrow.

He jerked his head toward the pack. “I brought you fresh clothes if you want to shed those.”

“You’re not getting in my pants right now. You’re injured.”

“Not what I meant—”

She winked at him. “I know. I do want to change, but I’m so filthy I’ll only ruin the new clothes, too. Maybe we’ll happen upon a stream or something and can both get clean.” She gestured to the now-dried blood on his clothes.

“Hazard of being a dragonslayer.” He re-secured everything in the pack and closed it up then stood and slung the sheathed sword across his back.

She smiled to herself, watching him while he couldn’t see her do so. In another time, another life, with another person she would’ve tossed a string of expletives in his direction for what he had done, kicked him out the airlock and held a grudge towards him for the rest of her life for daring to touch, to
alter
, her beloved ship.

But this wasn’t another time or another life, and he wasn’t any other person. Now she was able to get out of her own way long enough to see past her blind spots and recognize he had been right to act as he did.

Her heart, perhaps even her soul, palpitated with this…
sensation
. She had called it love, but she had called feelings ‘love’ in the past. Feelings which weren’t this.

She recalled the bottomless, powerful emotion, the
dushevnoye volneniye
bleeding out of her mother’s voice and shining through the anguish on her father’s face and considered the possibility this was but a hint, a small tease, of what her parents had felt for each other.

It terrified her. It made her throat convulse and cut off the oxygen to her brain, leaving her unable to process a rational thought. It made her want to run away from him, all the way to the other end of the universe if necessary, before this damnable ‘feeling’ got any stronger. It made her want to protect him, to grab him by the hand and run away
with
him to the other end of the universe, to somewhere the evils of the world would never beset him.

It terrified her, but she had no choice. She could no longer fathom walking away.

So when he turned to her, she merely pointed to the mountainside. “Lead the way.”

 

37

EARTH

EASC
H
EADQUARTERS

L
IAM GLOWERED OUT THE WINDOW
of his office. From the top floor of Logistics he observed four other buildings, the bustling courtyard below and a sliver of the continuing clean-up effort at the bomb site.

It was a more expansive view than he’d enjoyed on Deucali, where no military building stood higher than five stories. Yet in the corners of his vision the walls undulated menacingly, as though they plotted to close in and suffocate him if he let them out of his sight.

It was all falling apart, and no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to wrangle it back under control.

Why did God-damned aliens have to show up? Now, in this year, this time—
his
time—when they had so many millennia to choose from? They were ruining everything. Ruining his carefully devised plans and with them his hopes for the future, for redemption, for vengeance.

He wanted to grind every Federation world into dust beneath his boot as his army blazed a trail of blood and corpses all the way to Seneca. He wanted to storm their inner sanctum and fire a laser into the skull of their Field Marshal while their Chairman watched, then fire a laser into the skull of their Chairman. He wanted to burn their bodies on a pyre and carry the ashes back to Deucali and spread them on his mother’s consecrated grave.

Instead he struggled to simply keep his head above water, overwhelmed by a crumbling northwestern force which had proved unable to even penetrate Federation space. His northeastern force had gone unashamedly renegade and the southern fleets were unwilling to budge beyond minor shoring up of Earth and the First Wave worlds’ defenses. The politicians, the press and the public were demanding to know how he proposed to fight these aliens and thus far neither he nor the new Prime Minister had been able to pacify their clamor.

He didn’t want to fight the aliens. He didn’t give a flying fuck-all about the aliens, except insofar as they interfered with his plans. His sole solace was a deep suspicion these aliens would surely reach Seneca before long. If it became impossible to burn it himself, at a bare minimum he could witness it burn from afar.

Once the planet lay in smoldering cinders, then and only then might he consider fighting the aliens.

The door slid open behind him, jerking him away from the window. His jaw ground his teeth roughly against one another as Miriam Solovy invaded his personal sanctum.

Ever since her daughter was purportedly ‘cleared’ of involvement in the bombing, she had been insufferable. Marching around his facility like she was the second coming, ordering his people around like she was in charge.

“Solovy, have you not the basic decency to request permission before storming into my office?”

“Your secretary was absent, and I hadn’t the time to wait.”

“I haven’t the time either. What do you want?”

Her smirk curdled his stomach. “In that case, I’ll spare you the niceties and come straight to the point. Your brief leadership tenure has been an unmitigated disaster. You send our forces against meaningless targets, wasting resources we need in order to fight the alien invasion while refusing to send them where they can be of actual use. You neglect the monumental threat these aliens represent to the point of outright dereliction of duty in favor of lobbing ineffectual taunts over the Federation border.”

“How dare—”

“I realize you lost your mother in the First Crux War. I understand from where your hatred of Seneca stems. I have been there, and it is a dark, desolate place. For this reason and this reason alone, I am giving you the opportunity to resign voluntarily. Return to Southwestern Command and work to protect those worlds. You were competent at that task at least. But if you do not resign in the next twelve hours, know I will seek your removal from the Chairmanship and, if necessary, your discharge.”

He was in her face. He didn’t recall how he had gotten there.
She was so small, such a puny little creature.
“You bitch. What gives you the right to think you have any say in my command? You’re nothing but a glorified secretary playing dress-up. Go back to your tea party and let the real soldiers do the work.”

She didn’t flinch.
People so small as her always flinched.

If anything her glare hardened further. “I gave you your chance. You are a disgrace to the Alliance Armed Forces and the uniform you wear. You aim to sacrifice millions on the altar of your delusional crusade and I will not allow it. I—”

His punch knocked her back a meter into the wall. His fist had moved of its own volition, carrying a rage and frustration all its own.

To his dismay, she didn’t fall.
People so small as her always fell.

No tears pooled in her eyes; instead they flared golden amber as she rubbed her jaw and pushed off the wall to stand rigid straight. A peculiar smile danced across her lips. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, but she ignored it.

“You should not have done that, Liam. Thank you for confirming everything I suspected about you. Pack your belongings, because you are finished.”

Then she pivoted and was gone, leaving him standing there aghast. Striking a fellow officer was grounds for censure, if not demotion or even dishonorable discharge.

She just made him so damn angry! She understood nothing—nothing about what it meant to be a soldier, nothing about what it meant to serve a higher purpose. Worse, she dared to be unapologetically arrogant in her ignorance.

Pulse thundering in his ears, his eyes darted around the office. Here only weeks, it held no personal attachment for him.

He did not intend to be humiliated in public. He’d die before being dragged in front of a tribunal for crones to stare condescendingly down their noses at him and dare to judge him.

A cold certainty descended upon him, quieting the storm in his head. He had nothing left but the mission to which he had devoted his life. It had sustained him this long. It would not fail him now.

He would make Seneca pay. And after he exacted his just reward from Seneca, he would make them all pay.

38

ROMANE

I
NDEPENDENT
C
OLONY

A
LONE IN A QUIET ROOM
for the first time in days, Mia sank against the wall and closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep for a week. If a little luck swung her way, after this last meeting she could sleep for six hours or so. It seemed a reasonable start.

The ‘strategy session’ had been a nightmare. Corralling, focusing and stroking the egos of two dozen egomaniacs and dysfunctional genius intellects so they didn’t storm out, or even better kill one another, was not a task she’d wish on anyone. She would be happy if millennia passed before she was forced to do it again.

But it just might have been worth it. Time would tell. Nudged and prodded when necessary by details Meno fed her from his study of the data on the aliens, the motley crew of billionaires and wunderkinds had eventually generated decent suggestions on how to fight them.

She grimaced. Her neck and the small of her back ached painfully. She elbowed off the wall while rubbing at her neck and went to find Governor Ledesme.

After several false trails she finally succeeded in locating her in an upper-floor conference room, where she consulted with members of her cabinet. Upon being alerted to Mia’s presence, the governor excused herself from the meeting and indicated for Mia to follow her to her office.

As soon as the door slid shut the woman spun around and regarded her with a mix of hope, desperation and expectancy. “Tell me you have good news, Ms. Requelme.”

“Possibly. The best news we’re going to have until we know a lot more about these aliens, anyway.” She handed over a disk, but knowing the governor’s time was now in even greater demand, tried to recite the highlights.

“Readings suggest the ships use a dynamic shielding system displaying an extremely high-frequency oscillation. Given those characteristics, it’s likely to adjust relative levels in different areas in reaction to threats. At its strongest the shield will be impossible to penetrate using our current technology, but if one were to bombard a superdreadnought with coordinated fire on one side to draw the shield strength, another ship might be able to breach the now weaker shielding from a different position and inflict some damage.”

She had begun wandering haphazardly around the office; she hoped the governor didn’t mind. “The ships are made out of a previously unknown material, but the closest analogue is lonsdaleite diamond. It’s certain to be extremely hard—harder than anything we can manufacture. If it were lonsdaleite, a pinpoint hit with a minimum of thirty MN force at an angle of 17-21 degrees should exploit its brittleness and cause it to fracture. No guarantees, but it’s worth a shot.

“Everyone—well eighty-five percent of everyone—agrees the aliens are communicating on a high terahertz band between 2.7-3 THz. On the disk are specs for several waveforms which may succeed in disrupting the terahertz signals to a lesser or greater extent. Direct them at a ship and see what happens.”

She paused for a quick breath of air then continued. “The arms of the small ships don’t appear to be critical for flight. Based on close examination of the images, we think it’s possible they direct and/or focus beams originating from the oculi located at their cores. So shooting the arms off won’t disable them but it could render their weaponry less effective.

“The oculi, however, may represent a structural weakness. They possess the same shielding as the superdreadnoughts though, and it’ll be difficult to manipulate the shield due to their comparatively small size. A substantial minority of the group believes the shield will go down while they’re firing, so perhaps a skilled fighter pilot can take one out and survive the encounter.”

Her shoulders sagged in exhaustion. “And that’s all we’ve got. I realize most of it is geared toward a firefight scenario, but hopefully you can use some of the ideas to adapt the array ware to our advantage.”

Ledesme smiled; a politician’s smile, but it seemed genuine. “This is marvelous, Mia.”

“It wasn’t only me or even mostly me, and you’re the one who convinced a number of particularly recalcitrant men and women to dig in, lose sleep and find answers.”

“Still, thank you.” The governor crossed to her desk. Though she must be losing sleep herself, her cream brocaded suit displayed not a whiff of wrinkles or over-usage. “So the question is, beyond your suggestion regarding the array, what do we do with this information?”

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