The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) (9 page)

"Sir, the expansion is accelerating," Captain
Mori says. "The planet's flying apart."

"Impossible," Hurst mumbles. But he witnesses
the outer crust exploding nonetheless.

"The fragments will impact us in two minutes, sir.
I'm ordering a retreat."

"The hell you are. Are the generators still
powered?"

"Well yes, but—"

"Then run the sweep."

"Sir?"

"Run the goddamn sweep, Captain. That's an
order."

The Captain swallows audibly. "Sweeping in
three—two—one. Mesh deployed, sir."

Hurst watches the planet flare up as the mesh descends
upon the cracking surface and is absorbed into the multiplying cracks within seconds.

"What the—"

"Sir, the expansion has gained even more speed. We're
facing impact in twelve seconds. All swarms, back away five thousand clicks,
immediately."

"No one's leaving," Hurst yells. "Get the
situation back under control."

"We're trying sir, but we must gain distance."

Hurst clamps his fingers on the corners of the desk. The
image quickly loses quality, as the planet continues to expand in thousands of
enormous chunks and pieces of debris.

Hurst relays the SSV3's internal audio input to his projector.
The room is filled with the nervous chatter, clicks and taps, beeps and hums of
the busy Swarm ship's command deck.

"Sir, the fragments are changing direction,"
Captain Mori says. "They're
grouping
, and heading straight for our
ships. Retreat! All ships, retreat!"

"Keep formation and lay down fire!" Hurst yells.

"Fire!" the Captain orders. "All ships,
fire!"

The noise in the background grows louder in cascading
bursts. The rapid hammering of automated missile launchers falls into the
background under the hisses of the SMPDs hurling their superheated magnetized
plasma disks out into the void. And the deafening staccato of the
shell-sputtering turrets.

Hurst wipes beads of sweat from his upper lip.
"Report."

"The chunks are breaking apart, sir!" the
Captain yells through the noise. "They're still coming at us. Seventeen
ships hit, shields barely holding. No, wait, they're getting through!"

"Keep firing!"

"They've pierced the shields and are attaching to the
hulls. Twenty-five ships hit, sir. Twenty-eight."

"Fire everything you have. Blast those fuckers out of
the sky."

"Our weapons have no effect! They're everywhere, sir,
billions... billions of them coming from every side. Sweet Mother."

The AIs cut off the decaying visual relay, rerouting power
elsewhere. All Hurst has now is audio: a cacophony of clanks, yells, screams,
weapons' fire, and blaring alarms.

"Captain!" he calls.

"Sir, there's an unidentified object coming from the
outer edge of the system. Closing in damn fast."

"More of those things?"

"Not sure, sir. No, no. Something else."

A muffled explosion booms from Hurst's desktop speakers,
followed by the hissing chorus of emergency repressurization units on the
SSV3's command deck. Then a sharp white noise roars over the audio.

"It's a vessel, sir," the Captain yells.
"It looks like... like a concave mirror. Almost as big as the goddamn
planet."

"
What
?"

"They're going after it too. Sweet Mother, they're so
many. They're attacking everything."

"Who's attacking?" Hurst roars. "Is the
alien ship firing at you?"

"No. No—
oh fuck
! They're on our hull. They're
breaking in. They're breaking in! Too late for shields—energize the hull!"

"Lock down the command deck," Hurst orders.
"Weld yourself in if you have to."

"Intruder alert—all hands to weapons! They're eating
through the walls!" the Captain screams. "What the
fuck
are
they? Sweet Mother. Fire! FIRE-FIRE-FIRE!"

The transmission explodes with the cracking of guns and
the torrents of slugs ricocheting off bulkheads. A colossal metallic roar fills
the transmission. Then there is only screaming.

"Captain, cryo your ship! I want prisoners or samples
of whatever the hell's attacking you! You hear me, Captain? Captain!"

The desk computer beeps three times signaling the end of
transmission.

Hurst bolts from his chair, panting heavily, sweat
trickling down his face. Half his fleet is gone.
Half his fleet
! And
that alien ship—an unknown species—witnessed him fail.

He rips the useless Nexus helmet from his head and hurls
it across the room, shattering it against the crystal mirror.

He falls back into his chair, breathes deeply, arms
slumped across his knees, and hails the
Ares
' flight commander.

"Yes sir," Commander Felini replies.

"Are we done here?"

"Last two batches coming in now, sir. We'll be ready
to depart in fifty minutes."

"Is there another TMC ship anywhere near us or
Epsilon Ophiuchi?"

"One moment, sir." Hurst gnaws at his lower lip,
eyebrows kneaded together. "There's an R&D vessel near 49 Librae. It's
twenty-three point sixty-eight light years from Epsilon Ophiuchi, sir."

The general considers for a moment. "Have it
rendezvous with us outside the EO system. Don't log this flight. Get us there
quietly, Commander, and instruct the R&D vessel to do the same. I'll clear
the formalities with its captain in person. There's a situation that needs
resolving."

"Situation, sir?"

"Just hail the damn ship and take us to EO. We have
six FTL survey drones to pick up in stealth tangents. But keep us flight
ready."

"Yes, sir."

"Time to FTL?"

"At least seventy-three minutes, including the
re-docking of the drones and the—"

"Report back to me after drop-out the instant you're
awake, fugue or not. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Commander Felini out."

Amharr returns to the
Undawan
after delivering the
human, and is greeted by an unwelcome request. Kriahm demands a debriefing
about the state of the neophyte assessment. Amharr dismisses the Onryss that
insists he tend to the request immediately, and heads for his private chamber
first.

He'll have to deal with his partner sooner or later, and
keep his condition a secret. Even if he succeeds, it'll only buy him time to
address the matter before it becomes known and he'll have to face the
consequences.

Amharr pushes the distressing thought from his mind for
now, and tends to his immediate physical needs. The delivery of the human has
taken a greater toll on his body than expected, and he must feed and rest
before he faces Kriahm.

A very long time has passed since he last transported
another being by himself. It's very disturbing. The problem is not the
klaar
of his
Striker
enveloping him in its smothering grip, and easing him
through the walls of the human station. It's not the almost intimate proximity
of the human either, but the fact that it felt so...
natural
... that
deeply unsettles him.

Amharr doffs his robe and places his palms on the wall of
his chamber. Like every wall and floor on the
Undawan
, it is made of
samyth,
a Raimerian multifunctional and neuro-responsive material. It reacts to his
touch and extends to form an oblique platform, allowing him to lie down. The
samyth
then covers his body in a velvety film, cleansing his skin and leveling out the
tension in his muscles and tendons. It recalibrates the nanites in his body,
and replenishes him by supplying nutrients and water.

Amharr closes his eyes and tries to relax. In the depths
of his mind, a spark ignites and flickers. It sets him instantly on edge,
alerting all his senses.

He leaps up from the cleansing platform and takes a few
quick rounds of his room. Electric tension mounts in his spine, the way it has
done since that horrid incident. The Phylra particles nesting in the back of
his neck are excited, emulating the overall physical reactions the human is
experiencing right now, forcing him to resonate with her.

Amharr's electric tension burns through the soles of his
feet and into the floor of the
Undawan
. The vessel feeds greedily on his
energy as much as it does on actual fuel, and Amharr vengefully exhausts his
nervous systems, hoping to burn out and no longer care about the stimuli. After
an excruciating length, he gives up. Heads instead for the crux of the
Undawan,
to accept Kriahm's request.

He summons Gra'Ylgam to join him en route. There's a
chance his presence will distract Kriahm, as well as offer Amharr support. How
deplorable that he should feel the need to rely on a slave for strength.

They enter the crux together and Amharr goes to stand
behind the console, leaving Gra'Ylgam in the entryway. He takes a moment to
center himself, places his hands on the synaptic nubs, and receives the call.
The sister ships bridge the physical distance between each other in a matter of
blinks.

The Master Onryss comes to hover above the center of the
room, spinning faster and faster. It descends and meets the floor with a reverberating
boom. Then sinks into the floor where the
klaar
mixes with the
samyth
to form a swirling pool of black and silver.

Slow, round waves spread out from the center to ripple
toward the walls, dispersing before reaching the Kolsamal's feet. At their epicenter,
the waves bulge out and rise from the floor, becoming first a mound, then a
tall, slender shape. Soon it stands as tall as Amharr, and takes on the
features of an Emranti.

Amharr steadies himself, and looks at the placeholder of
his assigned partner standing before him.

"Kriahm," he acknowledges coolly.

"Amharr," the artificial embodiment replies
equally coldly, voice emanating from the floor, the walls, and the ceiling all
at once, crashing back on itself like a breaking wave.

Amharr ignores the intrusion he always senses during these
encounters, and remains calm.

Kriahm's substitute head turns to snarl at the Kolsamal.
"Are you trying to insult me? Dismissed,
Siaaw
."

"He is here on my request. He stays," Amharr
says harshly. "You have something to report?"

Kriahm rests his hands flat against the front of his robe.
"There has been an incident while I was charting the outskirts of the
neophytes' territory. A number of their ships engaged a formation of
unidentified entities, an uncatalogued species. They did so without
provocation."

"Your lack of insight into their motives does not
mean they do not have any," Amharr replies, gripping the rigid material of
the crescent between his fingers to steady his nerves. His palms have already
begun to itch and sting—not a good sign. He must control himself until this
briefing is over.

"Whatever reason they might have had to attack, it
was not justified by our standards," Kriahm says. "The neophytes
acted in a deconstructive manner."

"Humans," Amharr replies. "They call
themselves humans. They are single birthing, single life-cycle creatures, with
a tendency toward self-parasitism and a rather inefficient command of their own
technology."

"How impressive you know so much of them
already." Kriahm tilts his head sideways as he inspects Amharr. "And
without making contact, too."

Amharr throttles a chill chasing down his back. "I
hope my efficiency is not news to you. It was the main reason you were
appointed as my partner. To learn from me."

Kriahm's fingers twitch against his robe.

"Continue with your report," Amharr says.

"The formation the humans attacked revealed itself to
be a cluster of artificially enhanced microscopic organisms. It reacted
violently to being engaged. The organisms swarmed out and destroyed the human
ships, then came after the
Kaluvian
."

Amharr lets go of the console. "They perceived your
vessel's presence?"

"Not just that. They attacked my vessel and succeeded
in penetrating the kinetic and electromagnetic barriers. They even damaged the
klaar
of the outer hull. All the Onrysses aboard my vessel currently malfunction.
I have never seen such a behavior, nor do I know of any organisms or weapons
capable of damaging Raimerian technology. Alas, no Ascendancy vessels seem to
have been confronted with this type of organism before. I find this highly
disturbing."

Amharr considers this. An artificial microorganism
capable of damaging
klaar
? It must have been designed with destructive
intentions. Nothing encountered or developed over the past three galactic
cycles is capable of damaging Raimerian vessels. Now something is found during
the assessment of the humans? This cannot be coincidence. Can it? The immediate
future suddenly seems much bleaker.

Wherever the truth lies, there can be only one conclusion—the
humans must be contained. Their disregard for open warnings, their relations
with the Totorkha, their involvement—whatever it may be—with this new threat,
and even Taryn's reaction to his inquiry, all indicate that the humans are
deconstructive.

But he cannot perform the containment, not yet. He hasn't
even begun to untangle the mess in his mind. He needs more information, more
time, before he can attempt to rid himself of this link without sustaining
severe neurological damage. He can't begin a containment that could kill Taryn
along with billions of others. He'd be rendered useless in the middle of a war.

Yet how can he postpone the inevitable? How can he argue
against evidence so clear?

"I wonder if the Raimerians are aware of this new
threat to their technology," Amharr says. "The humans obviously have
no command or understanding of these organisms or they would not have fallen
prey to them. They must be of someone else's creation."

"Agreed," Kriahm answers. "This discovery
will anger the Raimerians greatly. I predict other vessels will be brought in
for the containment of the neophytes in our stead, and we will be reassigned to
the investigation of this new threat. It could potentially advance our position
within the Ascendancy."

Yours, maybe
, Amharr thinks.
I will likely not
survive
.

If other vessels are sent in—if another Dominant replaces
him—he'll have no control over what happens to the other end of his link. And
the new Dominant will have questions about everything Amharr has learned thus
far. No Emranti would ever be fooled into believing everything's fine with him,
not in person. And he has no justifiable cause to delegate such a meeting.

And yet if no other vessels are sent to replace them, and
they must carry out the containment themselves, Kriahm will not tolerate
weakness or hesitation. His rashness and unwillingness to share power makes him
a dangerous foe, but an even more dangerous partner.

Amharr needs to discern a third alternative. Fast.

Scenario after scenario runs through his mind, increasing
his pulse and nervous tension and forcing him to fight for control of his
physical reactions. No answer presents itself.

"Amharr?" Kriahm calls warily. "Your skin
is charged and glowing. Are you functioning properly?"

Amharr draws a deep breath. "Have you inspected the
organisms yourself?"

"No, I did not want to subject myself to unnecessary
danger." Kriahm tilts his head. "I do not possess resilient beasts
such as your Kolsamal aboard the
Kaluvian
. My Semri-Ar failed to contain
the samples they gathered properly. The organisms contaminated them and caused
rapid cell deterioration, so I had them destroyed. The only organisms we have
now are the ones consuming the outer hull." Kriahm turns to stare at
Gra'Ylgam. "Why don't you send me a unit from your troops? You can surely
spare a dozen Kolsamal."

"No, it's too risky," Amharr says quickly. Then
realizes how Kriahm might misinterpret his concern. "The humans are likely
deconstructive," he offers by way of explanation.

"Yes, I have already concluded that."

"I cannot afford to lose any of my troops in case I
must expedite the containment. I am sure you agree."

"But the contamination of my vessel is more—"

"You must return to Nobelanin."

Kriahm glares at him.

"You must also refrain from contacting anyone while
on your way," Amharr adds quickly. "The organisms are a high risk to
all
Raimerian technology as far as we know, and must be treated with caution. Since
you are unable to counteract the infestation on the
Kaluvian
, you are a
liability to any other vessel you come in contact with. Including mine, as we
speak."

"No," Kriahm thunders. "I refuse to leave
in the middle of an assessment. On the eve of a containment!"

"I have not asked for your opinion. Return to
Nobelanin at once and deliver the
Kaluvian
to adequate investigation.
These organisms represent a far greater threat than the humans."

"Even so, you believe you're equipped to deal with a
containment by yourself?"

"I will delay the containment until you return."

Kriahm's duplicate is silent while its owner considers.
"That may take a considerable amount of time. I will need to take detours
around the patrolled sections to avoid contact with other vessels."

"I will use the time to retrieve more
information."

"You seem to already have adequate information to
warrant the containment. Why study the neophytes further?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Why so nervous?" Kriahm asks. "You act
strangely. What is your interest in all this?"

"I will not explain my decisions to
you
."

"Why not? Am I not here to learn? Is there something
you don't
want
me to know?"

The stinging in Amharr's palms is beyond painful. He must
get rid of Kriahm as quickly as possible. He can barely stand.

"Consider this a matter of different
priorities," Amharr says, struggling to appear composed. "I value a
thorough understanding of alien species, while all you value is quick
action."

"Understanding without action is worthless."

"And action without understanding is an insult to the
evolution of our race," Amharr bellows. "Follow my order and return
to Nobelanin. Remove yourself from my presence and disengage the
Kaluvian
,
before you contaminate my vessel as well."

Kriahm bristles, and nods stiffly. The features of his
duplicate's face become smooth, then indistinct as the incarnation melts. The
floor reabsorbs the segregating streams of
klaar
and
samyth
as
the Onryss emerges as quickly as it descended. The rotation of its reformation
slows, and the sphere returns to its place above Amharr's console.

Amharr shudders violently and covers his face. He presses
the burning radices of his palms against his eyes, then rubs his neck, wishing
he could stifle the constant itch by sheer will.

He looks to Gra'Ylgam, and instantly hates the Kolsamal's
worried expression. He has not yet become so weak that his own slaves must pity
him!

"Kriahm will not forgive my failure to act,"
Amharr says.

"You made the right decision to send him away."

"Do not patronize me,
Siaaw
."

"My intention was to soothe," Gra'Ylgam says,
and bares his face in an appeasing gesture.

"I do not need your soothing." Amharr
straightens his back and exhales slowly. "What I need is for this synaptic
excrement
to be purged from my mind. I need to regain
control
."

Gra'Ylgam repopulates his face with the green autotrophs.
"In time, Dominant."

"Time is as important to me as it is insufficient.
Kriahm will not hesitate to strike if he returns and finds me
debilitated."