Dark Space Universe (Book 3): The Last Stand Page 6

  Tyra nodded. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  “I’ll be staying here to take command of the fleet,” Admiral Wheeler replied. “Lieutenant Sevris—”

  “Ma’am?” the pilot asked.

  “Take the Chief Councilor and the prisoner back to Astralis.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Nodding to Tyra, Wheeler said, “Good luck, Councilor.”

  Tyra inclined her head to that. “Hopefully the next time you see me I’ll be leading the first wave of transports.”

  Lieutenant Sevris walked up beside her, but the Marines hung back, guarding Lucien. “By your leave, Councilor,” Sevris said.

  Before Tyra could reply, she overheard Garek asking the admiral about his daughter, Nora Helios. She recognized the name of the now-deceased director of the Resurrection Center, and she winced as Admiral Wheeler explained what had happened to her and her backup memories with the destruction of the Res Center.

  Garek was dead silent following that explanation, and Tyra turned to see him staring in open-mouthed shock at Admiral Wheeler, his face ashen, and eyes dull.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Lieutenant,” Admiral Wheeler said.

  “Ma’am?” the pilot standing beside Tyra prompted.

  She nodded absently. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned on his heel and strode for the exit. As he did so the Marines guarding Lucien pulled him to his feet and marched after Sevris.

  Tyra brought up the rear, getting as close to Lucien as the Marines would allow. As they walked down the stairs and through the doors of the bridge, she whispered to him, “I’m going to do everything I can to get you pardoned.”

  Lucien flashed a rueful smile. “Thanks, but who’s going to pardon the rest of us for helping the Faros to slaughter everyone in Etheria?”

  “They haven’t defeated Etherus yet, and we don’t know that they will.”

  “We don’t know that they’ll lose, either,” Lucien countered.

  “If Etherus is the god he claims to be, he should be able to protect his people.”

  Lucien said nothing to that. Tyra was no great believer in Etherus, but she knew that Lucien was, so there was no escaping her logic.

  A true god would need no help or protection that they could offer, and a false god might deserve to be defeated. Except that after what Abaddon had done to her daughter, Tyra couldn’t bring herself to think of him or his empire as the better alternative.

  If Etherus was defeated, the best they could hope for would be to find a way to live in peace with the Faros. Tyra just hoped that would be possible.

  Chapter 7

  Astralis

  —SIX HOURS LATER—

  Joe Coretti sat in the throne room of his night club, the Crack of Dawn, listening to the news. The council had ruled unanimously that Astralis should be evacuated to the Etherian Fleet. From there they’d travel back to the Red Line and New Earth in just ten weeks weeks rather than the eight years it had taken them to get all the way out here to the cosmic horizon in the first place.

  Peace had supposedly been declared with the Faros, and humanity had been granted citizenship in the Farosien Empire, but no one wanted to stick around and test the Faros’ promises.

  “This changes everything,” Joe mused.

  “Yes,” Bob agreed.

  Joe glanced at his android. He supposed that he’d have to stop thinking of Bob as a thing that could be owned now that he was an android, too. Resurrecting himself as an android was the only way to come back safely after Bob had blown the Resurrection Center to bits. The authorities were looking for illegal cloning facilities where he might have planned to come back to life, not an off-the-books bot factory.

  It had been Joe’s plan all along to blow up the Res Center. Breaking in with Lucien to find evidence that Astralis’s leaders were really undercover Faro agents had just been the icing to sweeten the plot.

  His real goal had been to break in and steal all the data from the center; then blow the place and extort people with their own memories. It was the perfect crime, with unfathomable rewards. Before the advent of immortality through transfer of consciousness and cloning, people would pay inordinate sums to doctors to keep their loved ones alive. Now they would pay inordinate sums to Joe Coretti to resurrect their dead.

  How many people had died when the Faros exposed Fallside to space? Millions. And of those millions, the vast majority had yet to be resurrected. Joe knew that he could extort untold sums of money to bring those people back.

  Executing that plan was a little more complicated, of course: he had to bring those people back as androids, not humans, since he couldn’t very well create real clones of the dead without the authorities noticing. But where was the harm in creating robotic effigies to sooth the peoples’ grieving hearts? Only Joe’s clients would know the truth that those effigies were the real deal. He’d planned to install a fail-safe in all of the resurrected androids to wipe their minds if anyone ever tried to report him, which meant no one would risk it, and if even if they did, the evidence would auto-erase itself.

  The plan was genius, but now it was utterly foiled.

  “How am I supposed to evacuate all the stolen data, my android factory, and all of the materials and supplies I’m going to need to get things started?” Joe shook his head. “I’ll have to wait until we get back to New Earth, and then I’ll have to start over from zero! All of my businesses are on Astralis, and all my money is in its banks!

  “That is troubling, boss,” Bob said.

  “It gets worse! Back on New Earth, Etherus is sure to figure out what I’m up to, and when he does, he’ll seize the stolen data and bring everyone back himself. I’ll be lucky not to get executed for my trouble! We’re done, Bob,” Joe said, shaking his head. “We wasted our time.”

  “We could remain on Astralis,” Bob suggested.

  Joe shot him an incredulous look. “By ourselves? And do what?”

  Bob shrugged. “We’ll have the place to ourselves. You’ll be king.”

  Joe snorted. “King Coretti... that does have a nice ring to it, but what’s the point of being a ruler if there’s no one to rule?”

  “We could resurrect everyone in android bodies after the humans have left.”

  “Now there’s a thought...” Joe sat back in his throne-like chair and considered the idea. “It would take a long time to manufacture that many androids.”

  “We could ramp up production. If you’re the uncontested ruler of Astralis, you wouldn’t have to hide your operations, and you could requisition whatever resources you need.”

  “You’re right. This is brilliant, Bob! You’re a frekking genius!”

  “Thank you, boss.”

  A slow smile spread across Joe’s lips. “All we have to do is wait until everyone else leaves, and then get to work. We’ll start by resurrecting some of our own to create a militia. If anyone gets out of line—bang! They’re dead.” Joe nodded to himself, already imagining what he could do as the uncontested ruler of Astralis.

  “What about your brothers, boss?”

  Joe’s lips twisted into a frown. “What about them?”

  “Shouldn’t we let them know what we’re doing so they can join us?”

  “And share power with them? No thanks. They can run with their tails between their legs. We’ll take over their operations when they’re gone. Besides, I seem to recall them saying they wanted no part of the plot to blow the Res Center, so why should they share in the spoils?”

  “Good point, boss.”

  Joe rose from his chair and slapped Bob on the back. “It’s just you and me, Bob—King Coretti and... General Bob. How about I give you command of the militia?”

  “I’d like that,” Bob replied. “But what about the Faros?”

  “What about them?” Joe asked. “We’re at peace, remember?”

  “What if the treaty breaks down and war is re-declared?”

  Joe considered th
at. “We’re not technically human. Maybe we can negotiate our own treaty.”

  “We have nothing that the Faros want.”

  “Then we’d better find something. Anyway, that’s a future concern. One problem at a time, Bobby. First we consolidate our power and resurrect our subjects. Then we’ll figure out how to protect our kingdom.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Chapter 8

  The Lost Etherian Fleet

  —TEN WEEKS LATER—

  Lucien stood in line for the shared restroom in the Gideon’s crew quarters.

  “I need to pee!” Atara whined. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, doing a little dance.

  “I know, honey!” Lucien said, shouting to be heard over the noise in the corridor. “We’re almost to the front of the line!”

  The commotion aboard the Gideon was endless—people talking, shouting, moaning, babies crying, children screaming. There had to be at least a thousand people crowded into this corridor alone.

  A Marine bot stood to either side of them, scanning the crowd for threats to the Chief Councilor’s family, but these people didn’t look threatening to Lucien. They all had the same vacant stares, the same despondent expressions.

  Conditions on the fleet were bad. Every available space was crowded with people and their belongings. Their beds were made of dirty clothes and garbage. Food was in short supply, and water was even shorter. Sanitation systems were overtaxed, and showers being rationed to once a week. People were hungry, thirsty, dirty, tired, and sore from sleeping on the hard deck.

  The good news was it would be over soon. Just a few hours ago Admiral Wheeler had announced over the intercomm that they were calculating their final jump to reach the Red Line. Soon. We’ll reach New Earth soon, Lucien assured himself.

  Abruptly, someone stood up and announced, “We’ve reached the Red Line!”

  Applause answered that statement, but Lucien frowned, wondering why he was hearing about it from a random source rather than from Tyra or Admiral Wheeler.

  The man who’d stood up whistled for attention. “I’m not finished!” he said. “We’ve reached the Red Line, but we can’t get across! Etherus has somehow locked us out!”

  “That’s impossible!” someone scoffed, and Lucien was inclined to agree. How do you physically block off an entire supercluster of galaxies?

  But not everyone was in a mood for thinking rationally. A worried murmur spread through the crowd like a wave, rising quickly in pitch. The wave crested, and several others stood up. “How do you know this?” someone demanded.

  “I know someone who’s serving on the bridge.”

  The murmuring turned to shouting as everyone started taking this rumor seriously. One by one people jumped to their feet.

  Lucien pulled Atara close as he continued puzzling over the information. Astralis had crossed the Red Line to leave the Etherian Empire over eight years ago. They hadn’t encountered any mysterious jamming fields on their way out. What kind of barrier would allow travel in one direction but not the other?

  “What are we going to do now?” a woman standing in line in front of Lucien asked.

  He slowly shook his head. “I wouldn’t take the rumor too seriously. It’s not possible for Etherus to lock us out of Laniakea.”

  “Aren’t you the Councilor’s husband?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she scanned him from head to toe. “You know something! What aren’t you telling us?”

  “I know as much as you do, ma’am.”

  Her face scrunched up into a sneer, and she looked away. “Hey, everyone! The councilor’s husband is here!”

  Lucien’s whole body went cold as at least a hundred people turned to look. He saw their expressions, and he knew what would happen next. He needed to get somewhere with a door he could lock. The restroom was the closest option. He nodded to the Marine bot to his left. “Shepherd Four, clear a path to the front of the line.”

  “Copy that,” the bot replied. “Make way!” it declared.

  But no one budged. Someone shoved the bot, and it opened fire. A stun bolt screeched out from Shepherd Four’s left arm, sending the man who’d shoved it crumpling to the deck with his limbs jittering and body convulsing.

  “Dad, I’m scared!” Atara screamed as people pressed in around them. Lucien swept her up into his arms and scanned the crowd for a way out. There was nothing but a seething mass of bobbing heads. People were shoving him now and beating his Marine bots with their fists and makeshift clubs.

  Shepherd Four fired again, and then Five joined in. Their targets collapsed, wreathed in blue fire, and the people shoving Lucien grew more insistent. Someone punched him in the side of the head and he stumbled sideways with his ear ringing. Darkness gathered at the edges of his vision, but he blinked it away. He clutched Atara close to his chest, but switched to a one-armed grip so he could fumble for his sidearm. As a former police chief it was his job to help keep order on the ship. Suddenly Lucien wished he hadn’t left Brak with Theola in his and Tyra’s quarters.

  The Marine bots closed in around Lucien, guarding him from the front and back, but they couldn’t protect his flanks. Someone elbowed Atara in the face and she screamed, clutching her cheek. Lucien gritted his teeth and flicked off the safety on his gun. He switched the weapon from stun to kill, and fired at the ceiling. “Everyone stop where you are!” he roared, but no one listened.

  The crowd pressed closer, squeezing Lucien and Atara between their bot guardians. Lucien felt the hand holding Atara being crushed, his bones grinding between the unyielding metal of one of the bots, and the bones in Atara’s hip. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and her cheek was already badly swollen from where she’d been elbowed in the face.

  Lucien fired again and again at the ceiling, screaming until he was hoarse.

  Finally the crowd noticed the weapon in his hand, but instead of backing off for fear of getting shot, they pressed closer still, grasping hands reaching for his gun. He held it high, out of reach, but a tall man shoved through the crowd and grabbed the weapon. Lucien wrestled briefly with him.

  And then the trigger depressed by accident, and a flash of crimson light blinded them. Lucien blinked away the sudden glare and watched in horror as the man collapsed, his mouth open in a scream, his hands clutching a smoking hole in his chest. He disappeared under a sea of trampling feet. If the laser bolt to his chest hadn’t killed him, the crowd certainly would.

  Others rushed in to take his place, and soon Lucien was wrestling with three different sets of hands. His guard bots fired a steady stream of stun blasts into the crowd, and people collapsed around Lucien in waves, unconscious but alive. A woman finally managed to steal Lucien’s weapon away, in the process bending his trigger finger back until one of the bones snapped.

  He cried out in pain and withdrew his injured hand. The woman who’d stolen his weapon turned it on the bots. She shot one of them three times in quick succession, and it fell to the deck with a noisy clatter. The crowd swarmed over the fallen machine, kicking it as it struggled to rise. Lucien curled his body around Atara to keep her safe while the remaining guard bot turned and did likewise for him. Lucien felt the bot shudder in time to four screeching reports from his stolen sidearm, and then it collapsed, too, leaving Lucien’s back exposed.

  The crowd swarmed him, beating him with their fists until he fell down. He made sure to fall on top of Atara, so he could shield her from the crowd. She squirmed and cried under him, but he held fast, hoping no one would notice her there.

  Then the steel toes of someone’s mag boots found Lucien’s head, and everything went dark.

  Chapter 9

  The Lost Etherian Fleet

  “I’m getting reports of riots throughout the ship,” Tyra said from where she sat manning the Gideon’s comms station. At first, the control stations had been inscrutable to her, since they were programmed in Etherian, but after just a few minutes, the ship’s systems had somehow sensed (and maybe even learned) the language
of their new operators, summarily translating themselves into Versal. “Somehow they found out that we can’t cross the Red Line,” Tyra explained, still listening to the reports of unrest.

  “Send in the Marines and get our doctors to treat the wounded,” Admiral Wheeler said.

  “Aye,” Colonel Drask said from the sensor control station.

  Admiral Wheeler shook her head. “Who the frek told them that we can’t cross the Red Line?”

  “Someone must have leaked the information from one of the other ships,” Colonel Drask said from the sensor control station.

  Wheeler scowled. “Councilor, you’d better get on the comms fast to explain the situation.”

  In lieu of a reply, Tyra did exactly that. “Citizens of Astralis, this is your Chief Councilor speaking. There’s a rumor that we have already reached the Red Line, but that we are mysteriously unable to cross it. Those reports are false.

  “We have reached the Red Line, but there is a way to cross it. We’ve already sent out probes to make sure that the way is safe. Please be patient and remain calm while we wait for our probes to return. I assure you, this is only a temporary delay, and we will arrive at New Earth very soon. Thank you.”

  “You should have lied,” Wheeler said.

  “What?” Tyra asked.

  “You should have told them that the way is safe and that we’re already crossing the Red Line.”

  “And risk an even bigger riot if the way isn’t safe and the people find out that we’ve been lying to them?” Tyra challenged. “No, they needed to hear the truth. Besides, I didn’t tell them everything. Only what they needed to know.”

  “Just as well. If they knew that the only way in was through a wormhole that may or may not even be traversable, we’d have a mutiny on our hands.”

  “How long before our probes get back?” Tyra asked.