Nova War (33 page)

At that moment there came a scream from the humid jungle below them, followed by a brief rattle of gunfire, followed by an eerie silence. Something thudded loudly, then silence fell once more. Corso stood with the rest as something arced high in the air from the same direction the transport had gone, before crashing onto the ground not far from where they all stood.

It took a moment for Corso to identify it as the mangled torso of one of the troopers.

‘Lucas.’ Corso turned to see Langley was addressing him. ‘I’d like to know how Dakota was the last time you saw her. I . . . knew her, some years ago.’

Corso found it hard to stop his gaze wandering back to the trooper’s mangled corpse. All around them, people were barking instructions either at each other or into radios and T-net transceivers. ‘She’s fine, I guess,’ Corso replied, not quite sure what else to say.

He glanced over at Honeydew, who alone apparently hadn’t moved. People raced all around, manning the pulse-cannons on the back of the remaining transport, or finding defensive positions and then training their weapons on the dense foliage at the hill’s base.

Corso walked over to the alien and stared into its face. ‘You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?’

‘I did not, Mr Corso. The Emissaries appear to have betrayed us all.’

‘And your Queen? What the hell is she going to do about it?’

‘It is with great shame I am forced to admit my Queen may be somewhat out of her depth in terms of the current situation. I’m sorry for the way things turned out, Lucas. I wish things might have been different.’

All around them, people were shouting . . . and then something between a trumpet and a roar blared through the foliage at the foot of the hill.

The sudden return to reality was jarring. One moment Dakota had been staring down at the shadowy Librarian, and now—

Her senses rushed outwards yet again, but this time the fear was gone. She felt, instead, a burning sensation somewhere deep within her skull.

The Emissary drones made a last dash towards the scout-ship. Something reached out from inside of Dakota, penetrating their communications networks and slipping inside their machine brains.

Less than four seconds after Dakota found herself back in the scout-ship, the Emissary drones had run emergency deactivation procedures and shut themselves down for ever. They drifted, cold and inert, while the scout-ship continued on its way safe and unharmed.

Dakota felt her mind continue to expand outwards until her consciousness encompassed all of the fleets converging on Leviathan’s Fall. She felt as if she were on the verge of splintering into a thousand pieces, as fragments of her consciousness were scattered across tens of thousands of computers and stacks all across Ocean’s Deep. She finally worked out how to rein herself in, and to focus her consciousness on the scout-ship.

And only when she was ready did she reach back out again.

Roses was now saying something to her, but his words were like a distant whisper on the very edge of her awareness.

There.

She then came across Hugh Moss, piloting a craft that looked like nothing ever built within the Consortium. He was almost at the station, his ship decelerating hard. The Librarian had shown her what he really was – a twisted experiment desperate for revenge.

He was clearly going to reach the station ahead of her, which made it virtually certain she was going to have to confront him. She reached out and tried to tweak his ship’s engines and life-support, but pulled back when she found endless booby-traps and fail-safes awaiting her.

At this point she lost control, her consciousness swept away. It was like being caught in a flood and struggling to reach air. Security alerts cascaded on board ships and vessels all across the system, as her consciousness touched on every one of them, boosted by the now unrestrained power of the derelict.

She opened her eyes to see the scout-ship’s tiny cabin, and forced herself to take several deep, steady breaths. Her hands were shaking badly, and there was a persistent throbbing in her temples that wouldn’t go away. Roses had apparently given up trying to get her to respond to his questions, and was now more focused on negotiating the colony’s automated docking protocols displayed on a screen facing him.

They were still on course – still on their way to a meeting that was millennia overdue.

Dakota closed her eyes, and extended her mind outwards yet again, but this time she controlled the expansion, like a rider reining in a horse.

She became aware of the coreship, now mere billions of kilometres distant and, as she focused on it more fully, it exploded into a tangled nightmare of trillions of interdependent primary and secondary systems and mechanisms.

She dived in amongst them like a pearl diver plunging into cool deep waters, all the while plundering the Shoal vessel’s data stacks, and leaving a storm of priority alerts in her wake. Electronic doors came slamming down in front of her, only to slide open again moments later.

Dakota fell into depths as startling as the very real waters buried deep beneath the coreship’s outer surface.

She could see them all: species and civilizations she could never have dreamed of, each stuffed into its separate controlled environment within the enormous starship. None of them had any idea which system they were actually in, and all were unaware of the drama unfolding around them that would change the galaxy for ever.

Dakota pulled back with infinite care and next turned her attention to Immortal Light’s secret colony, a huge multi-ringed station displayed on several screens within the scout-ship’s cabin. Its entire history was laid out before her as the derelict penetrated its computer networks.

She was surprised to discover that the
Piri Reis
was already there at the station, apparently having been offloaded from an Emissary ship. More Emissary vessels were arriving, either landing inside station bays or drilling their way inside the rings.

There were trillions of conduits now open to Dakota’s mind, and she was afraid of what might happen if she let her consciousness spread out among them too thinly. It was as if she’d been living all her life in one tiny darkened corner of a vast arena with only a candle to light her way, but had stumbled across a master switch that expelled the darkness and brought to light a plethora of wonders she couldn’t even have imagined existed.

She turned her attention outwards, to the stars beyond the Ocean’s Deep system. She felt a powerful sense of elation – as if she could let her mind simply expand until it encompassed the galaxy. There were a thousand more Magi ships hidden throughout this same local spiral arm, and they had been waiting patiently for a long, long time. She tapped into their encrypted and long-dormant communications network, and fired out a greeting via the Ocean’s Deep derelict’s transceivers. Acknowledgement signals came bouncing back almost at once, even as the network began to wake from its long sleep – a sentient matrix spread over thousands of light-years.

It had once been – in fact, still was – a fleet in the grandest sense of the word.

On Dakota’s command, the first of these ancient ships began to rise from under the ancient dust that had covered it while it slept. It would be long months before it might reach the Ocean’s Deep system, but there were others only a few light-years distant, and it would take no more than another couple of days for the first of these to arrive.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Dakota felt a sense of real purpose take hold of her. She glanced over at Roses, and smiled at him when he turned to face her.

The entire remaining Magi fleet was now on its way to Ocean’s Deep; and they were going to need navigators – hundreds of them.

Twenty-five

Pandemonium reigned as an Emissary came charging out of a patch of dense foliage and thundered up the side of the hill, heading straight for the remaining ground transport. As ‘First Contact’ scenarios went, this was far from ideal.

Both Briggs and Hua were fortunate enough to possess personal shaped-field generators, but nobody else there had the benefit of that particular technology. The troopers went on instant defensive, firing round after round into the monster stampeding towards them.

Corso hit the ground and watched as a field flickered on and off around the Emissary. He glanced up at the long windows high overhead on the ring’s ceiling, and saw bright beams and explosions that indicated a full-fledged battle was taking place in the station’s immediate vicinity.

It was clear the Emissaries were launching an invasion, regardless of whatever promises they’d made to Hua or Immortal Light. He heard trumpeting and roaring from deep inside the jungle, heralding the approach of more Emissaries in full cry.

‘Do you seek God?’ the first Emissary screamed, as shocked troopers scattered out of its path. One had taken control of the pulse-cannon mounted on the transport, and Corso saw the beast slide to a halt as its shields started to overload under the assault. But then it moved with surprising swiftness, ramming into the transport and sending it crashing over on its side.

‘Take us to God’s ship!’ screeched a second Emissary as it came stamping up the hill to join the first. ‘We will seek out God, that we may punish him!’

Corso noticed Hua’s aide, Cohen, stumble as he tried to avoid the second Emissary. He was trying to hide behind the overturned transport, while almost everyone else had run for the jungle fringing the base of the hill. The Emissary picked him up casually in its trunklike assemblage of tentacles, and then slammed him hard against the side of the vehicle. Cohen fell abruptly silent, and hung in the massive creature’s grip like a broken doll before being flung contemptuously towards the abandoned conference table nearby.

A third Emissary made an appearance. Like the second, it was not visibly equipped with any kind of translation device, but its message was clear as it joined the first two. It did, however, carry a portable field-cannon, spraying a wide beam across the dense surrounding foliage and setting it on fire. The original Emissary now moved closer to the treeline, apparently determined to hunt out the concealed troops who were still firing at the intruders from under cover.

At about this point, it occurred to Corso that finding himself a better hiding place might be a pretty good idea.

He’d been scrunched down next to what passed for bushes in the local ecology, just a little way downhill from the auditorium. From here he could see Hua, Briggs and half a dozen troopers hunkered down next to a growth with wide-splayed roots and thousands of wiry, drooping branches.

As he watched, the troopers were returning fire, aiming for the Emissary wielding the pulse-cannon. The ground exploded next to the creature and Corso realized it must have turned its protective shielding off in order to use the cannon. The Emissary stumbled, caught off-guard, then more explosions and shots quickly followed. The alien collapsed on its side, trumpeting angrily.

The remaining two Emissaries charged down the hill towards where Hua and the rest were hiding. Corso stood up and ran like hell, crashing through the dense undergrowth, stumbling and picking himself up again and running until something dropped towards him from above. He cried out and threw his fists about wildly, as something slammed into him and he slipped on the damp ground.

Scrambling towards the relative shelter of a massive tree-trunk, he turned round to see it was Honeydew, and one of the Bandati’s wings had been badly burned.

‘Be quiet,’ Honeydew hissed.

The ground underfoot trembled as an Emissary stamped past them just on the other side of the tree. A few moments later they heard sporadic shouts and screams, interspersed with further gunfire and explosions.

‘You have to get us out of here,’ Corso insisted, grabbing the injured Bandati’s shoulder. ‘We sure as hell can’t stick around. This is turning into a massacre.’

‘There is nowhere to go,’ Honeydew replied. ‘The Emissaries clearly intend to take the derelict from us by force. There is fighting all across the station.’

Corso raised himself slightly and looked around, wishing he had some kind of a weapon, even just to make himself feel less naked and defenceless.

‘Then getting the fuck off this station would be a good thing, don’t you think?’

Honeydew’s wings twitched. ‘Where would we go?’

‘Look, the Shoal are on their way, and so is Dakota. That’s probably why the Emissaries started killing everyone on sight. They want to grab the derelict and blow this station apart before anyone else gets near it.’ Corso carefully neglected to remind Honeydew that they were almost certainly looking for him as well.

Heavy footsteps sounded somewhere nearby, and they crouched low again, scuttling into the deeper shadows between the roots. Corso listened hard, but he could hear no more voices. Even the sporadic gunfire had ceased, leaving only an unnerving silence.

He lifted himself slightly, wondering if it was safe enough to make a move. He glanced down at Honeydew and realized the alien wasn’t going to be flying anywhere any time soon.

‘I do not like this,’ said Honeydew, ‘scrabbling about on the ground like some animal. It is unsafe here. It is better to be—’ His interpreter let out a burst of static.

‘Up in the air?’ Corso suggested.

‘Yes.’

Corso glanced at Honeydew’s injured wings and wondered if it was in him to kill the alien, assuming that was even possible. Probably not, because the creature was fully trained in the arts of war, and Corso himself was little more than a misplaced academic. He stared at the Bandati, wondering why he didn’t feel more angry at him. He’d been imprisoned, drugged, tortured, and fed to a monster. And yet where anger should be, there was only a hollow, vacant sensation.
Perhaps,
he considered,
I’m in shock.

A few hours before, they had been outright enemies. Now the peculiar exigencies of their situation demanded they become allies. Life, he decided, could be very strange.

‘Tell me one thing,’ he asked Honeydew in a soft whisper. ‘What are they talking about when they say they want to “find God and punish him”?’

‘They are . . .’ More static spat out of Honeydew’s interpreter. ‘I am having difficulty finding an appropriate translation. The closest equivalent is “gnostics”. They believe the creatures behind the Magi caches are demiurges whose existence prevents the true God from entering this universe. They wish to find the entities that created those caches in order to kill them.’

Corso couldn’t hide his confusion. ‘But if it wasn’t for the same caches, they wouldn’t have their present technology.’

‘My briefing was far from complete, Lucas. If you need an expert opinion, you could always try asking one of them for clarification.’

Corso ignored this jibe. ‘We need to find a way back to that shuttle where the rest of your people are and get out of here. Are you ready to move?’

‘No. My troops reported coming under intensive fire shortly after returning to the shaft, and I have since lost contact with them.’

Corso sank back and thought hard. ‘Wait a minute. You said you were intending to hand the
Piri Reis
over to the Emissaries. Do they have it yet?’

‘They do. It is my understanding it was brought here.’

Corso realized that his limited chances of being able to find his own way off the station constituted another good reason to stick by the Bandati. ‘But if you know where it is, or have any idea where we might find it, there’s a chance we could use it to get ourselves out of here.’

‘You will recall it was severely damaged during your escape from Nova Arctis.’

‘It’s still better than nothing.’
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Corso crawled on all fours out from between the dense roots, and listened intently. There was no sign of life.

He stood up cautiously. Still nothing moved.

Maybe the Emissaries had moved on from this section of the ring.

Honeydew struggled upright behind him. Hiding between the roots of a tree clearly wasn’t a comfortable situation for a creature with such large wings dwarfing the rest of his body. Corso moved a little further downhill to where the gradient suddenly steepened, taking each step with infinite care. Still nothing moved, but he could see where the dense mat of reddish-green growth underfoot had been flattened by passing Emissaries.

He heard something behind him, and turned to see Honeydew suddenly shoot upwards on an erratic course, his injured wing fluttering spastically. The Bandati had barely got more than a few metres off the ground before something plucked him out of mid-air.

An Emissary lumbered into view.
How the hell,
Corso wondered,
did it manage to move so quietly?

He stood, frozen, too shocked to move, as the Emissary came crashing up towards him, Honeydew wrapped up in its trunk-tentacles. He watched as the Emissary raised Honeydew high in the air, then smashed him down against the trunk of the tree they’d been hiding under.

Instinct finally kicked in and Corso turned to flee, only to find himself staring up and into the wide, angry eyes of yet another Emissary.

The scout-ship carrying Dakota and Days of Wine and Roses came in hard and fast through the middle of a major battle taking place around the station’s hub. They were targeted a half-dozen times on their final approach, but each time Dakota managed to persuade the enemy’s targeting systems that the scout-ship was a friendly target. The station meanwhile rushed towards them with alarming speed.

‘Reports from Immortal Light detachments say the Emissaries have taken control of most of the docking facilities,’ Roses warned her.

Dakota nodded absent-mindedly, her thoughts literally a world away. ‘I know.’

She’d been studying the Emissaries’ movements through the station’s own security network. They were fearsome-looking things, and she recalled the look of horror on Corso’s face when she’d even mentioned them during their last conversation.

She was annoyed to realize how she missed him. Or perhaps he was nothing more than her one remaining anchor to a life before Nova Arctis.

As well as up close to the station, there were several protracted battles now raging between Shoal and Emissary forces throughout Ocean’s Deep. A fleet bearing the distinctive markings of the Darkening Skies Hive had emerged from the Shoal coreship and was now engaging vessels belonging to Immortal Light. But at the same time – and here it became particularly confusing – the Emissaries had started firing on the fleets of
both
Bandati Hives, as well as on the Shoal.

Consequently, the beleaguered Immortal Light fleet found itself under attack from all sides, and it was clear they were being wiped out.

Roses turned to her. ‘This close, we’re in severe danger of—’

‘Being targeted again,’ Dakota muttered. ‘I know, I know. I’m dealing with it, all right?’

‘Perhaps—’

‘No,’ she said, cutting him off, wishing he would stay quiet. ‘I can . . .’

She couldn’t find words to explain the turbulence inside her head. She shook it irritably and focused on dealing with the seemingly endless array of enemy systems now attempting to shoot them out of the skies. Meanwhile, she learned that the Emissaries were storming through the colony’s several rings, killing everyone and everything they came across, in a chaotic hunt for the derelict.

The Godkiller’s core stacks were still proving frustratingly opaque, even to the derelict’s mind, but judging by the less secure data they were able to leach out of it, the Emissaries had a distinctly esoteric reason for wanting the derelict. She had already learned, too, that their correct designation was
Emissaries of God.

‘I’m going to have to use the hub’s trace-lock signal,’ Dakota warned Roses, ‘or we’re not going to be able to get inside. That’s going to make us vulnerable for a couple of seconds.’ Now their main deceleration was done with, she handed partial control of the scout-ship over to the hub’s computers. ‘So you’d better hang on.’

A fresh slew of missiles flashed towards them, fired from Emissary assault ships that had latched on to the hub’s exterior and punched their way through the hull. She reached out through her implants and managed to shut down the targeting systems in most of them. The majority went sailing off course, but a few shot past the scout-ship and hit the hub itself, tearing chunks out of the hull and sending clouds of crystallized atmosphere spilling out into the vacuum beyond. A few detonated close enough to the scout-ship to send life-support and hull-integrity alarms into a spiralling panic.

They were now vectoring in towards the station at critical speeds. Too slow and they’d be an easy target, too fast and they might overshoot, or even kill themselves crashing straight into the hull.

Beams of superheated plasma lashed out towards them as they dropped towards one of the few remaining bays not yet controlled by the Emissaries. One of those high-energy beams slammed into the hull of the scout-ship, whereupon one-third of the navigational systems failed permanently, while over eighty per cent of the external sensors and transceiver relays were burned away by the incandescent heat.

They were flying blind now, and all Dakota could do was watch helplessly through the station’s own monitoring systems as they hurtled through the open bay doors. A moment later something hard slammed into her, and her thoughts were swallowed up in blackness.

On reflection, Corso came to consider it a small mercy he had been knocked unconscious immediately following Honeydew’s death.

When he finally came to, it was to the sound of panicked breathing. He soon discovered he was in the company of not only Sal but two Consortium troopers: an abrasive individual called Henry Schlosser and a woman by the name of Jennifer Dantec. They had all been thrown unceremoniously into the back of a field-assisted aircraft, and when they eventually emerged from its hold they found they were a long way from where they’d started.