Requiem: Aurora Resonant Book Three (Aurora Rhapsody 9) Page 30

  “It’s space dust. The diati….” She shook her head roughly and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I need to get it together, because you need to hear this from me. When Caleb stripped the Primor of his diati, it proved to be far too much power for Caleb to absorb at once. The excess boomeranged off in all directions. It propelled the Primor out of the building to fall to his death, but it also encountered other Praesidis inside the building. It stripped them of their diati as well, and the mass of power kept growing.

  “Caleb…it kept trying to return to him, but it was too agitated, running out of control. If there was one redeeming act on its part, the diati that’s been a part of him for a while now got him out of there, away from the destruction the rest of it was wreaking. Then the building collapsed, more Praesidis died, their diati bolted, and the whole city—planet—started coming apart as the diati belonging to millions of Praesidis broke free of its hosts to run wild.

  “By the time I got to Caleb he was on Luna, barely conscious. The diati kept being drawn to him, and it had encased him in this massive vortex until it found its way in. I tried to help calm it…I guess I succeeded a little. He regained enough lucidity to transport us to Phobos as Solum’s core collapsed.”

  Alex covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a cry. “Um, so, we’re…I’m fine, but I shouldn’t leave him alone for much longer. He’s trying his damnedest to get all this new power under control, but it’s going to take time. He’s afraid he’ll accidentally damage the Siyane, so he’s gone to Chionis. ‘At least everyone there is already dead,’ he said.”

  Her eyes rose to meet each of them in turn, and the haunting, bleak desperation in them broke David’s brand new heart. “He blames himself. He’s of the belief that he killed most of a Dynasty and all of a planet. He’s wrong. I was there. I saw it happen. He was at the mercy of the diati same as everyone—he was just lucky it wanted him alive. Goddammit, it wasn’t his fault. You need to tell everyone that.”

  Her jaw locked, and he suspected she again fought a powerful urge to commit violence on something. “I think our people who were on the mission are okay. All the labs were destroyed before the confrontation, no one was on the ground when it happened, and there was enough warning before the planet…exploded to get clear. So mark the mission as a fucking success and carry on with what you need to do. Neither of us will be at the post-mission meeting. I’m not sure when….” Tears began flowing down her cheeks, though it was anger which flared in her eyes.

  David reached out and drew her close. “Oh, milaya. I’m so sorry.” Over Alex’s shoulder he met Miriam’s gaze, and his concern reflected starkly in her expression. “Tell us what you need. We’ll take care of all the war business.”

  She nodded and pulled away. “I need…I need this fucking…I’m sorry. Thank you. I love you both, but what I need right now is to go. I have to get back to him.” She accepted Miriam’s hand briefly, then spun and was gone. Only then did it occur to him that she must have wormholed directly onto Deck 1 of the Stalwart II and was likely now departing the same way.

  Miriam watched Alex leave, and her focus remained on the empty doorway for several seconds before she turned to him. “I’m not certain I know what to do.”

  “For them, or about the Council?”

  She smiled sadly. “ ‘For’ them. You’re wonderful, do you realize that? I think I meant either.” She squeezed her eyes shut and sank against the wall beside the door. “She’s alive and physically unharmed, as I suppose is he, so first I have no choice but to think of the mission. Sometimes I really hate being in charge.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Her eyes opened to glare at him, though it lacked conviction. “Yes, I do. But I am in charge. The objective was achieved. The Praesidis Primor was eliminated. The collateral damage from these events will play hell with public opinion, however, and I’ve honestly no idea how the anarchs will react.”

  “Nisi won’t be happy.”

  “His son’s dead, yes, but he approved the assassination ahead of time.”

  “True, but I doubt he holds much ill will toward the rest of the Praesidis. They’re his descendants, and were once his family.”

  “I suppose you’re right. At the same time, if anyone appreciates what the diati is capable of, it’s him. In fact, he should have warned us it was capable of this level of destruction.” Her shoulders sagged a fraction. “In an empire that encompasses fifty galaxies, the loss of a single planet, while tragic, will not bring civilization to a halt. The Directorate’s gone, however, and the empire is leaderless, so we can’t stand around paralyzed. We need to move forward, and swiftly.” Her lips curled up wryly. “Care to call me a cold-hearted bitch?”

  “No. You’re looking out for the safety, security and future of everyone, because you must.” He brought a hand to her cheek. “I know the burden is weighty. So does Alex.”

  “I believe her when she says this wasn’t Caleb’s fault. He can perhaps be ruthless when the situation requires it, but he would never deliberately kill innocents, much less do something like this.”

  “But that’s not the same thing as being absolved of responsibility.”

  She considered him warily. “No, it’s not. The responsibility falls on me.”

  “What?”

  “I gave the order for him to eliminate the Praesidis Primor, recognizing full well the unpredictability of the power I was putting into play. I knew Caleb had struggled to absorb large quantities of new diati in previous confrontations, and I knew the Primor controlled magnitudes more of it than anyone he’d encountered. I knew the potential consequences were many and deadly. But I needed the Primor dead, and my son-in-law was the only one who could make it happen. So, yes, I own this one.”

  “Miri….” He took her hands in his and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Forget what I said a moment ago—I only thought I knew the burden was weighty.”

  “It is what it is. I’ll manage.”

  “You always do what is required in the circumstances.”

  “Yes. I do. Even when it means feelings and family have to take a back seat to duty.” Her nose scrunched up in frustration, and she pulled her hands away to drag them down her face. “Do you think she’ll be all right? Physically, I mean. Caleb being devastated over the deaths of a host of people is surely preferable to him being too drunk on power to care, but I have to wonder…what is this power going to do to him? Is she safe with him?”

  “Yes. I may not have many answers, but I do know that he would die before hurting her.”

  “Except he can’t die—not while the diati insists on sharing his body. Also, he’s not necessarily the one making those decisions. Thirdly, how do you know? I frankly expected you to, if not dislike him, at a minimum be exceptionally wary toward him.”

  “Because he’s Senecan? Because of his former profession? Because of what his father did?”

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged in answer. “Logical expectations, but I’ve forced myself to put aside any acrimony toward the Federation, because this is a different world and I can’t afford to hate everyone who’s associated with my former enemy. Mostly, though, I suspect I got imprinted with a healthy dose of warm fuzzies toward Caleb back when I was part of Valkyrie, and by extension part of Alex.”

  “It’s probably for the best. One conflict we don’t need, right?” She sighed. “Most of the Council members will be arriving soon, and I still can’t figure out if the meeting needs to be a celebration or a wake.” She dropped her head on his shoulder. “Do you remember when the Alliance was the good guys, the Federation was the bad guys and life was simple?”

  “No. But I do remember when we pretended life was that simple so we could do our jobs and occasionally sleep at night.”

  39

  AFS SARATOGA

  TARACH STELLAR SYSTEM

  * * *

  MORGAN SAT BESIDE THE MEDICAL COT, elbows on her thighs and hands pressed together at her chin, almost as if she were pr
aying. Which she wasn’t. If gods had ever existed, they’d been slain by their creations long ago.

  No, if she’d learned anything in her life—a debatable assumption, granted—it was that the world gave you what you took from it. She controlled her life. She made her choices, good ones and bad, and embraced the consequences.

  Yet the consequences of this choice terrified her in a way few ever had, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  If I may interject, you chose to be with her some months ago. Unless you are revisiting this choice now—and I hope you are not—I struggle to understand what troubles you now.

  Stop eavesdropping, Stanley.

  I cannot prevent doing so when you speak so loudly in your mind. If you wish, I can remain silent and act as though I do not hear what you think, but it will be a charade.

  Fine. It’s not the choice to ‘be’ with her tormenting me. It’s the choice that lay farther down the path, the one no one warned me about.

  And it is?

  The choice to let go.

  To let go of her? Then you are revisiting the earlier choice.

  No, Stanley. Damn you can be dense. To let go of myself.

  Harper stirred on the cot, and Morgan hurriedly wiped away some stupid dampness which had found its way onto her cheek and straightened her posture.

  It took another few seconds before the woman’s bleary eyes shifted over and found Morgan. Her face instantly screwed up into a grimace. “Crap. Is it that bad? Am I dying?”

  “What? No. You’re fine. A little oxygen-deprivation-induced organ stress and a touch of decompression sickness, but you’ll be out of Medical in a few hours and back to beating the shit out of weaponized mechs by tomorrow.”

  “Then why do you look like you’re on your way to a funeral?”

  “Because…” Morgan pushed a harsh breath from her lungs “…because I am. My own funeral. You’ve ruined me. Utterly and fatally ruined me. I used to be, well, you know what I used to be—”

  “A callous, brash daredevil strung out on adrenaline and alcohol?”

  Morgan pursed her lips. “Okay, also that. I prefer to focus on my better qualities, but the point’s the same. Now I’m holding vigil at a bedside, gnashing my teeth and bloody weeping. I can’t work, I can’t think—I can only wait for you to wake up and worry about the next time I’ll be sitting by your medical cot wondering if this is the time you don’t wake up.”

  Harper pushed up to a sitting position, wincing at some ache the movement triggered. “But you said I was fine.”

  “Another thirty seconds without rescue and you wouldn’t have been. A tear in your gear or a rip in a hose when you were sucked out of the Annex and you wouldn’t have been. Ugh.” She stood and dropped her hands onto the edge of the cot. “Brook, can you please stop trying so hard to die?”

  “I…I’m just doing my job. Are you asking me to quit being a Marine?”

  “No. You’re too good at it, and I get how you need things to hit periodically. Besides, it’s sexy when you hit things. Listen, I know you’ve seen a lot of bad. I know you’ve seen horrors and even had to do things that make you question humanity’s worth. Your worth. As far as I’m concerned, the verdict’s still out on everyone else, but not on you. You’re overflowing with worth—to the people you defend and save, to your squadmates, to your friends and, far and away most importantly, to me.”

  “Morgan—”

  She held up a hand. “Let me finish, as I’m unlikely to be in such a bleeding heart, soul-baring state ever again. No, I’m not asking you to quit being a Marine. Neither of us is destined for tea-time beside a picket fence. We’ll live large and violently, and one day it will kill us. I just…tell me when you go on these ‘outnumbered and outgunned, against all odds’ missions, you want to come back. Tell me you believe you deserve to come back. Tell me you’re not chasing after the next mission because you’re hunting for a worthy foe you can die at the hands of. Tell me those things, and I can return to working, and flying, and making snide remarks, and fooling the world into thinking I don’t give a shit.”

  Harper stared at her wearing an incomprehensible expression. “I suppose now you’ve gone and given me a reason to want to come back.”

  “No! Do not put this responsibility on me. The reason is you. You want to come back because you’re amazing and badass and the world needs you to continue gracing it with your awesomeness. Say it, dammit.”

  “I’m not saying that aloud. I would sound ridiculous.”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  Morgan growled and leaned in close over the cot. “Say it.”

  “I love you, but I’m not saying it.”

  “You get out of this cot and we get to any random accommodations where we have a speck of privacy, and I’ll make you say it.”

  “No, you won’t.” Harper grabbed Morgan’s hands and held them tight. “Let me want to come back for you, all right? You stubborn, infuriating woman, let me need you. For fuck’s sake, let go and be okay with needing me, too.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Ahem. I believe this moment is referred to in common parlance as ‘checkmate.’

  Shut up, Stanley.

  40

  SIYANE

  TARACH STELLAR SYSTEM

  * * *

  FROM NOTHINGNESS, EXISTENCE.

  From existence, awareness.

  From awareness, creation.

  From creation, life.

  The emergence of perception—of space, of materiality, of substance, of sequentialness.

  Particles into atoms into molecules into dust into gases.

  The perception of forces in conflict, of push and pull, of yin and yang.

  Gravity into mass into stars into galaxies.

  Accretion disks into nebulae into planets.

  The perception of order, of complex systems, of forces in synergy.

  RNA strands into proteins into cells into flesh into breath.

  Caleb gasped awake and forced his eyes open.

  Echoes of the cosmos faded to the background in the presence of substance damp material against his back and materiality a soft blanket conflict tangled around his flesh legs. Concerned silver-gray eyes stared down at him from a systems frame of messy burgundy locks. He was on the couch, and synergy Alex knelt beside him.

  Her fingertips brushed across his cheek. “Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.”

  A loaded question. He blinked until the echoes fell silent. No, he was not okay. The ache in his chest burned so deeply it would sear his flesh away if the diati wasn’t there to heal it as quickly as it began to char. He was his worst nightmare come true, every warning of the dangers of too much power come to fruition. His gallant heart had been measured and found wanting.

  But he had also slept, a few fitful minutes born of exhaustion. And in the dawning of wakefulness, he recognized the greater degree of control he now had over the savage power residing in him. It roiled and throbbed still, but it stayed where it was told.

  He offered Alex a weak shrug and answered a slightly different question. “It wasn’t a nightmare, merely the diati waxing philosophical about its origins. Which are…interesting. If I’m interpreting what I saw correctly, it was here at the beginning.”

  “The beginning of what?”

  “Everything. The universe. I think it showed me the Big Bang.”

  “Incredible.” She sank down on the floor beside the couch and rested against the low table. “What else did you see?”

  “It’s not so much seeing as…acknowledging, but I saw cosmic creation, destruction, the energetic forces of space thrashing their way through adolescence. Then, gradually, order and structure formed: stars, galaxies, planets. Life. What I can’t quite decipher is…whether the diati was a bystander, a participant or…the sculptor.”

  “Are you suggesting the diati might be ‘God’?”

  He winced. How to put the esoteric impressions into words? “I don�
��t know. In the literal sense of the creator of the universe? It’s possible. Maybe after it set events in motion, it dispersed itself into countless particles to live amongst its creation. Or maybe it is—or was, before it became diminished—the manifestation of what one might call the ‘consciousness’ of the universe. Or maybe it was only the mechanism, acting at the direction of something yet older and more incomprehensible.”

  “Well…since you control what has to be like ninety-five percent of the diati in existence now, an argument could be made that makes you a god, or at least godly.”

  “Don’t say that!” He kicked off the blanket and bolted up from the couch. “Don’t ever say that.”

  “I’m sorry.” She scrambled to her feet but stopped short of approaching him. “I was just trying to make you smile.”

  “I know.” He sank onto the edge of the data center. She’d tried, but she couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice from him. She wanted so badly to fix him, but she couldn’t erase what he’d done.

  “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. But I’m never going to smile about this.”

  “Caleb…I realize it seems like it right now. It’s fine to give yourself time, but eventually you’re going to have to forgive yourself.”

  “What good does forgiving myself do when I’m still the avatar for the transgressor?” He flashed a plume of crimson energy above his hand, then snuffed it out. “I don’t deserve this much power. No one does. If there’s anything this vision confirmed for me, it’s that this power is not meant for us. It’s beyond our comprehension, and in some ways we are beyond its comprehension. The million years it spent with the Anadens were but a second of time to it, and the second has not changed its nature.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t pass moral judgment on the actions of insignificant, transient life forms. It’s not with me because it judged me ‘worthy’—it’s with me because it judged me capable in matters it respected. The same was true of Corradeo all those millennia ago. It joined with him because it needed him to perform a function he excelled at performing.