Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (98 page)

His senior aide gave the signal the feeds were live. He turned to the judge. The man wasn’t the Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court in London, but he sufficed.

The judge uttered a preamble in a deep, formal voice properly befitting the occasion. Marcus placed his left hand on the Bible, the timeless symbol for grave oaths, and raised his right hand.

“I do solemnly swear to truly and faithfully execute the duties entrusted to me by the Second Earth Alliance Constitution of 2146 through the Office of Prime Minister, to respect and safeguard the rights and liberties of all peoples, and to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the citizens, colonies and institutions of the Earth Alliance.”

And like that it was done. His goal for some forty years culminated in a rite over before it began. Good thing he wasn’t one for sentimentality.

Ceremony concluded, he faced the dozens of cameras hovering above the crowd. “Let us give a silent prayer for the thousands of souls lost to us yesterday.” His eyes closed for
5…4…3…2…1
.

“I accept the position of Earth Alliance Prime Minister with a heavy, sorrowful heart. Luis Barrera was a true statesman and a leader in the purest sense of the word. But most of all he was my friend for many years, and I will miss him more than I can express in mere words.

“Luis Barrera devoted his life to public service out of the desire to help shape a better world. It is a particular tragedy that instead he found himself forced to lead in a time of conflict, to lead a war not of his own making. I have no doubt he would have been successful and guided us to peace, had he lived.

“I will do everything in my power to achieve the same. I pledge today to work every waking hour and to my last breath to win this war—to ensure the Earth Alliance wins with dignity and pride and stands unbowed, victorious, upon the fields of battle.”

He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. The primary purpose of the Orbital incident was not to fan the flames of war, which likely could flare no stronger than they now burned—and if they could the simple act was sure to do so on its own. No, the explosion had been a final necessary act to propel him to the pinnacle of power in the galaxy.

He regretted the excessive loss of life; he genuinely did. But an Alliance Prime Minister made for a difficult target, one only rarely vulnerable. Time had been, as it was now, short.

“The investigation into the explosion on the Orbital has barely begun. It would be easy for us to place the blame at the feet of the Federation, and in the end we may well do so. But I urge the public to reserve judgment and allow the investigation to run its course. For now, let us instead mourn the innocent civilians lost in this attack no matter the perpetrator. But make no mistake—whoever the perpetrator, we will exact full justice for their deaths.

“We must also thank the heroic personnel throughout the Orbital who prevented an even more catastrophic loss of life by immediately activating security overrides and sealing off the damaged section before the entire outer ring was lost. Countless people owe their lives to these heroes.

“I want to assure everyone there will be no lapse in our military strategy. We have the finest in skilled, experienced military leaders in the galaxy overseeing the war, and their work continues unabated. I personally know these men and women. I have participated in Prime Minister Barrera’s councils and briefings, and I guarantee you this transition will be rapid and seamless.

“Now I will return to Washington and begin the work of guiding the Earth Alliance forward to a new day. Thank you all for your support. Thank you, Luis Barrera, for your service. May God bless your soul and those of your family.”

He waved off any questions, including several shouted inquiries regarding newly leaked evidence about the alleged perpetrator of the EASC Headquarters bombing. He allowed his security detail, tripled in size since his arrival, to shepherd him back to the transport.

He needed to take control of the situation, and fast. The EASC bombing no longer mattered, though finding Marano and Solovy did. Events had moved beyond it and at a rate far swifter than he had anticipated. Days remained at most before it would become impossible to ignore the alien offensive.

He had one final chance to stop a far greater, infinitely more calamitous event—the destruction of the human race. This was what he had spent the last five years working to prevent. At first subsumed within his own goals, the effort had soon come to dominate then eclipse his personal ambitions.

It all would have been far easier if he’d had ten or even twenty years to prepare. But Hyperion had not deigned to warn him until five short years ago, by which time the danger was already imminent.

You must cease expanding along the Scutum-Crux Arm in the Fourth Galactic Quadrant.

Marcus jumped, startled. He covered the reaction by wiping his mouth with his napkin then grimacing across the table at his wife. “The PM is asking to speak to me. I’m sorry, dear. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, having grown used to the interruptions by now, and he excused himself from the dinner table.

The alien had never contacted him at home before, but he doubted the being recognized such human distinctions in any event. This was a new home, situated in the gentrified Georgetown neighborhood of Washington. The Brennon administration had taken power two months earlier; he had been confirmed as Attorney General a few short weeks ago.

Hyperion’s out of the blue declaration was as cryptic as ever. Once the door to his office slid shut he prepared himself for the always precarious interchange. “Our eastern-most colony is currently Gaelach. Is there some danger in the space beyond it?”

There is no problem respecting Gaelach. But Gaiae, Andromeda, Dair—they encroach. Expand along the Sagittarius and Perseus Arms instead.

He frowned. “The Alliance doesn’t control those colonies. Gaiae and Andromeda were founded by independent interests. Dair is a Senecan Federation colony. In fact, the Federation controls most of the northeastern region of settled space. I can’t influence their expansion plans.”

You have now risen to a position of power. You can influence many decisions.

So that was why the contact now. “Yes, but not Senecan decisions. You do understand our political situation, don’t you?”

We recognize your various factions. The fact remains, humanity must cease expansion in the identified direction.

“And if we don’t?”

There will be consequences.           

“Hyperion, I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

Humanity cannot be permitted to settle beyond a line 5.48kpcs from Earth spanning across the Scutum-Crux Arm. If you do not cease the expansion, we will.

“Are you threatening us?”

Yes.

Marcus forcibly buried his instinctive reaction. “You would attack us for approaching your region of space?”

Not attack. Eradicate. Annihilate. Extinguish. Obliterate. Eliminate. Your language has a number of terms which suffice.

“So it does. Very well. I will do what I can.”

Marcus wandered out of his office in a daze. He lied to his wife and escaped the house. He needed to think, and to think he needed to be alone, free of expectations and the eternal façade.

Washington was new to him, and he spent several hours walking the streets of Georgetown and the surrounding neighborhoods. He didn’t notice the landmarks or galleries or posh pubs but he did appreciate the damp breeze off the Potomac.

He had no way to know whether Hyperion’s aliens were capable of successfully executing on the threat and no way to learn the answer. Clearly they possessed technology more advanced than humanity, at least with respect to communications. Beyond this he knew almost nothing about them for certain, other than they were profoundly arrogant and unquestionably alien.

Taking Hyperion at his word—under the circumstances he saw no choice but to do so—he had been given a chance to save the human race from devastation. Possibly from extinction.

Marcus had always been an ambitious man; he had no qualms admitting such. The trait had served him well, taking him from the streets of Rio to the Earth Alliance Cabinet in a few short decades. This ambition was a major reason why Hyperion approached him thirty-two years earlier and why it continued to come to him.

The alien—maybe all the aliens—believed he possessed both the talent and the capability to shape galactic events. Hyperion seemed to believe he could shape the course of history itself.

Could he?

Perhaps not. But at this moment, there was no one else who could.

It took two months for him to devise the rough outline of a plan, then another month for him to reach out to the woman who he had owed an implicit debt for fifty years.

In time, he and Olivia would identify individuals in advantageous positions and recruit them for varying levels of participation. The methods of enticement were custom-tailored to take full advantage of each person’s particular weakness.

Blind spots were, after all, the easiest of all foibles to exploit.

27

PORTAL PRIME

U
NCHARTED
S
PACE

C
ALEB NEARLY MISSED IT.
For all that he continuously scanned the landscape for incongruities or any trace of disturbance in the native flow of the terrain, he almost hiked right past the subtle ledge outcropping.

But he didn’t.

A rock was missing. On a slope covered in small boulders seemingly arranged by nature, there was a conspicuous gap of disturbed soil, as if the rock formerly resting there had been dislodged by an external force.

His gaze traveled up the slope past the gap to…there. A tree limb had been broken off, leaving splinters of wood jutting out from the trunk. The slope continued upward through dense trees until he caught a glimpse of it leveling off to what might be a small plateau.

The area in question was three hundred meters above him. He took a long swig of water, rotated his arms a couple of times and loosened the strap across his chest. Then he trekked up the hill very,
very
quietly.

The problem was going to be getting onto the plateau without being seen—assuming a dragon was there to see him. It was an assumption he had no choice but to adopt.

As he drew closer he angled toward the incline, where the ledge blended back into the mountainside. Dragons had caves, right? Whether it was inside the cave or out in the open, staying out of sight until he could breach the ledge represented his best strategy.

The mountain rose at a steep angle by this point, but it worked in his favor. He was able to practically flatten himself against the terrain as he crept forward and up.

When the ledge was no more than two meters above him, he set his pack beside a tree and slid the sword out of the sheath. The lustered ebony shimmered subtly in the erratic rays of light sneaking through the tree limbs.

He draped fingertips on the edge and dared a split-second peek over it.

The dragon sunned itself on the plateau. Its long, serpentine tail curled around to tuck along a thick upper body. The steady rise and fall of its chest indicated it was sleeping.

He allowed himself several blinks of disbelief. It was enormous. Chest to haunches alone had to be over ten meters, and its neck stretched nearly as long again. The deep red scales shone brilliantly, the reflected light giving them an almost metallic sheen. If he hadn’t spilled the guts of one the day before he’d likely have suspected the dragon was artificial. A machine.

From this close a perspective, he identified the four-clawed feet as representing a significant threat. A single claw could slice him open from navel to throat in one casual slash. Not as great a threat as the fire, though, for he had seen firsthand how far and wide it reached. And of course he had to consider the teeth. The jaws rested closed in slumber, but he expected the teeth were as fearsome as the claws.

There was only one location where he would be even marginally protected from the claws, the teeth and the fire.

Should be fun.

He vaulted up onto the plateau, primed his calves and toes and sprung forward, sprinting at full speed.

The right eye popped open as he took the last stride, revealing a blazing red oval iris inside silver sclera.

Launching himself off his right leg, he leapt onto the dragon’s back and grabbed hold of a scale for leverage as the dragon rose to its feet.

The edge of the scale, though not so sharp as a blade, sliced open his palm. He let the pain drive him forward and crawled fully atop the back to straddle the spine before the beast managed to throw him off.

Seared heat from the flames spewing out of the dragon’s massive jaws washed over him, but he sat too high up the spine to burn; though long and flexible, the neck appeared to be unable to twist around so dramatically as to score a direct hit.

The wings spread to full span and beat upward in preparation for taking flight. Flight was not good.

He swung the sword sideways as they began rising into the air and sliced into the delicate membrane of one of the wings where it attached to the body. A howl preceded renewed fire when the wings beat downward and they slammed to the ground listing to the right.