The Eve of War Read online

  “You mean our physiology,” Ezo corrected, indicating Awen and himself.

  “Quite so, sir. My apologies. Though I do not think I will be without effect either, nor the ship,” the bot said, looking around.

  With each passing second, the ship shook more rapidly, as if someone was turning up the oscillation pattern on an audio device. The pitch rose higher and higher, and Awen noticed an acute pain in the middle of her head. “Does anyone else feel that?” she yelled.

  “And here I thought it was just my hangover,” Ezo replied, squinting through a forced smile.

  “I am not clear on what you are referring to,” TO-96 said, “but I am aware of the quantum tunnel’s density now beginning to approach terminal levels for matter in our universe.”

  “Terminal, as in lethal?” Ezo asked.

  “Correct, s-s-sir,” the bot stuttered. The lights in his eye sockets flickered.

  Awen’s vision began to diminish, and it seemed like the entire cabin was shrinking. A wave of vertigo struck her so hard she knew she was nanoseconds away from vomiting. Strangely, she felt guilty that she would not have time to grab the bag that Ezo had placed under her seat.

  • • •

  At first, the voice sounded like it was underwater. Awen tried to focus her blurry vision, but a combination of searing pain near her temples and a strong urge to pass out kept her from making out anything beyond fuzzy shapes. The voice continued to speak until Awen finally heard her name.

  “Awen… hear me?”

  She blinked several times and noticed an arm. Then she saw a hand. She moved the fingers. It was her hand. The shapes in her field of view started to clarify.

  “Awen? Can you hear me?”

  She tried to speak, but no words came out. A face was getting closer to hers. Its eyes were enormous. It was terrifying!

  “Awen?”

  And then her stomach lurched. She was so tired of throwing up. Awen wiped spittle from her lips, using the hand. She could smell bile in her nostrils.

  “I got you,” it said. She knew that voice. It was—a friend. No, it was just…

  “Ezo?” she asked.

  “Phew! Star Queen, you had us worried there for a moment.”

  “Worried?” Awen repeated, finally getting her bearings. She was on the bridge of the Indomitable. They’d been headed toward something important—toward a hole in space. The stardrive. The Novia Minoosh. The quantum tunnel.

  “Did we make it?” she asked.

  Ezo smiled. “We sure did, Star Queen.”

  Awen returned his smile and tried to stand up.

  “Easy there,” he coached, insisting she stay seated. “You’ve been out for several minutes. The jump hit you hardest of all, it seems.”

  “Her vitals are stabilizing,” TO-96 said.

  “But we really did make it, yes?”

  “Indeed, Awen,” the bot replied. “Just as Ezo said. And the jump seems to have been almost instantaneous. By my calculations, one point eight attoseconds. That is a billionth of a billionth—”

  “I don’t think she cares right now, ’Six.”

  “Ah, yes. My apologies.” TO-96 knelt on her other side and offered his hand to her. Awen grasped his and Ezo’s hands and stood. It took a moment more for her to get her balance. Then she stared out the bridge window, her eyes widening, mouth agape.

  TO-96 leaned in and whispered, “Welcome to metaspace, Awen.”

  Instead of brilliant white, the stars here were various shades of purple set against the same infinitely black background. A fine pink-hued cloud connected the millions of lights like a spiderweb that looked as if it had been blown about at the hands of an ancient wind. Other smaller gems twinkled in the distance, flickers of green and blue and gold. The entire scene seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy the likes of which she’d never encountered before.

  “It’s… magnificent,” Awen said, spellbound by the sight. She felt a surge of emotion so strong that tears welled in her eyes. Almost a minute passed before she finally found words again. “I… I can’t believe I’m seeing this.”

  “Nor can we,” TO-96 said.

  “I’m just glad you made it through,” Ezo said. “We were worried about you there.”

  “Thank you,” she said, turning toward them. “I’m fine. Really, I am.” She smoothed her turtleneck and noticed the puke stain. It smelled terrible.

  “Let’s get you some new clothes,” Ezo said.

  “Thank you. But what about the planet?”

  Ezo smiled at TO-96. “Go on,” he prompted.

  “Ithnor Ithelia is right where they said it would be,” TO-96 replied, naming the planet for the first time. Awen mouthed the words back at him in wonder. Then the bot input a few commands, and the ship began a slow turn to starboard. The stars pitched across the window until a brilliant purple star flooded the bridge with light. The ship’s sensors adjusted the window’s transparency to reduce glare. As the Indomitable continued its rolling arc, a new object began to fill the field of view.

  Appearing from the lower right was a massive planet whose greens and blues were nearly iridescent in the purple sun’s light. Countless flecks of white and gold sparkled on the planet’s surface. The world looked like nothing Awen had ever witnessed, nothing she’d ever imagined. She’d felt overwhelmed before, but now she was overcome with emotions so strong that she wept openly. One hand covered her mouth, and the other pushed back tears and loose strands of hair. This was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in all her life.

  “Ithnor Ithelia,” she whispered. “You are breathtaking.”

  • • •

  For the first time in her life, Awen didn’t vomit during atmospheric entry. She was too excited to be sick, though she doubted there was anything left in her stomach to throw up. She was also too excited to be mad at Ezo—at least for a little while. She pressed herself up against her harness like a little kid trying to look out the family skiff’s front windshield from the back seat. Purple-blue light saturated the landscape—what little of it she could see—and continued to bathe the cockpit in the otherworldly glow.

  Once the ship’s rate of speed had decreased and the vibrations subsided, TO-96 began conveying sensor data to Ezo and Awen. “The atmosphere is… surprisingly conducive to biological life as we know it. Trace amounts of other compounds but nothing that should impede your ability to breathe normally.”

  “So you’re saying you’re pretty sure we won’t die?” Ezo asked.

  “I calculate that there is less than a three percent chance that one of the trace elements is lethal, correct, sir.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  “Me too,” Awen said. “How long before we can touch down? I don’t even know what the protocol is for something exploratory like this.”

  Ezo looked at her and raised his shoulders. “Me neither, Star Queen. But it is your expedition, technically speaking. Your op.”

  “Awen,” TO-96 said, “might I suggest reviewing data from the preliminary sensor scans to aid in your decision-making?”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Awen said. “I’m assuming I can unbuckle now?”

  “Aside from thermal sheering or atmospheric anomalies, both of which the ship’s dampeners can account for, I would say everything will be smooth from here.”

  Awen undid her harness and climbed out of her seat. “How soon before the scans are finished?”

  “Well, we will need several more hours to complete a full planetary rotation. However, I’m bringing up the preliminary scans now.” TO-96’s head twitched back and forth as he worked with the Indomitable’s AI to present query results. Three holo-projections displayed across the dashboard, indicating…

  What? Awen wondered, moving between Ezo and TO-96 for a better look. All she saw were jungle-covered mountains, none of which looked like good candidates for landing a starship, let alone being hubs for an advanced sentient species to congregate in.

  “
These represent the three largest cities detected on this hemisphere,” TO-96 said, “one of which happens to be the one indicated on the stardrive—here.” He pointed to the center image and started it rotating.

  “I don’t understand,” Awen replied. All she saw was a pyramid-like mountain with countless protrusions on its surface, all of which were covered in foliage. The city looked more like a spiny mass in a dense jungle than the shining metropolis she expected. “Are they—are the inhabitants jungle primates or something?” She looked at Ezo and then at TO-96, wondering if they were as confused as she was.

  “Ah, I think I understand your assumptions. This is a visual scan only. Here,” TO-96 said, looking down at the dashboard. He eliminated the two peripheral projections and expanded the center one of the city until it nearly filled the bridge. “This should help you.”

  All the green vanished to reveal one of the most stunning cities Awen had ever seen—it even rivaled the architecture and grandeur of Capriana. Delicate spires towered over latticework skyscrapers, serpentine sky bridges wove between monolithic domes, and countless causeways and canals formed a footprint so mathematically perfect that Awen wondered who could have designed and written such a beautiful algorithm.

  “It’s spectacular,” she whispered.

  “You can say that again,” Ezo said.

  “But I still don’t understand it,” Awen said. “Why the foliage? Are we saying… this city’s been reclaimed by the planet? That would mean—”

  “It’s abandoned,” Ezo concluded.

  Awen’s heart sank. To come so far, to risk so much, to witness so many people’s death’s, all for a lost civilization? She knew the discovery would not be a total loss, of course. Such a find would merit decades of excavation and cultural findings to last centuries of analysis by the Luma. But still—she was hoping to discover the most important find of all: life.

  “Ninety-Six, what about life signs?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, Awen, but besides basic and complex organisms one might find in any jungle throughout our galaxy, there is nothing notable—nothing that I’m sure you’re looking for.”

  Awen lowered her head. “Keep scanning, Ninety-Six. But let’s look for a place to land.”

  “As you wish, Awen.”

  Chapter 33

  Magnus dragged Valerie and Piper across the desert in a makeshift sled as the sun baked them raw. They were headed east toward the canyon and the closer of the two settlements he’d seen from the air. With any luck, they’d arrive by nightfall.

  Magnus had taken one of the glass canopies, flipped it over, adhered several pads from the downed capsules to it, and covered it with fabric from the parachutes to act as a shade. Then he repurposed a few meters of his grappling-hook line, tied it around his waist, and connected it to the sled.

  Valerie and Piper sat quietly under the white shade as Magnus hauled them eastward. The little girl had even managed to hang on to her stuffed animal, which was looking less stuffed and more animal. A rabid animal, Magnus thought.

  He knew the females were grieving the loss of the husband and father now buried in a shallow grave. Magnus had wanted to bury the man properly, but there wasn’t time for anything like that. Death by exposure and discovery were both very real possibilities if he didn’t get the mother and daughter to safety soon. Magnus had dug a pit for the late senator using his helmet then laid his body to rest. The man deserved a Republic funeral, but if the senator were to speak from beyond the grave, he would insist that Magnus get them to safety. At least, that was what Magnus would have said had the roles been reversed. Valerie and Piper wept as Magnus had finally covered the man’s face, forever concealing him in the dust of Oorajee.

  After constructing the sled, Magnus cut vents in his helmet using his duradex knife. Both the helmet’s main battery and its backup battery were completely depleted. He was sure the AI’s processor was destroyed, too, given the charred components that had failed to survive Piper’s strange energy explosion. The helmet’s only uses now were as a sunshade, as eye protection, and—he’d most recently discovered—as a shovel. It reminded him of when the old Mark IV helmets had crapped out on his unit during the Caledonian Wars. As had been the case back then, he wished the helmet could seal his suit from the sand, but the granules found their way into everything. He swore as a handful of the stuff rubbed against his groin.

  For once, Magnus wished his armor was any other color but black. Without the suit’s cooling system online, the armor felt like an old convection oven, but he knew he’d need it for its protective abilities should they encounter resistance. And they would encounter resistance.

  He squeezed his MAR30 between his hands. Fortunately, Piper’s devastating power surge hadn’t knocked his primary weapon out of commission. His Z and his remaining frag grenade were still online as well. At least he had those.

  He wanted to ask Valerie about the girl’s powers, but it was a conversation he simply didn’t know how to start, at least not in front of Piper. Plus, what would he say? So, your daughter shoots energy from her mind and kills people. How does that work? Magnus shook the thoughts away more than once and contented himself in merely being the Marine that would see them to safety. Leave the other stuff for people smarter than you, Magnus.

  He stopped every half an hour to provide his passengers a small drink from his limited water supply. The truth was, Magnus needed it more than they did, given his exertion, but he preferred to help them to his own detriment. And anyway, he’d pushed himself through worse. One more meter, one more kilometer, he reminded himself. OTF. Just make it to your next meal, Magnus.

  As the sun began its descent behind them, Magnus could make out hints of white on the horizon coming from a series of low buildings. The sight worried him, however, as the white, while it could have been paint or ceramics, was most likely linen. A Jujari village, he concluded. He’d been hoping for another Dregs settlement or something. He placed his index finger on his MAR30’s safety as if to make sure it was still there and hadn’t melted from the excessive heat.

  Magnus’s mind flashed back to the mwadim’s palace, where he’d terminated several Jujari warriors before finding Awen’s helpless body behind the dais. Then he and Awen had escaped down the street as he wrestled three strays in the dusty alley. If he could place a wager, he’d put money on having to kill more Jujari before the night was out. Once again, Magnus was protecting innocent lives from certain death by sheer will and, when the time called for it, violence of action—the kind of violence only the Recon was trained to dispense. He thought of his brothers, the ones he’d lost. No, Magnus corrected, the ones you’ll find. The heat was messing with this head.

  The faces of his men flashed before him one at a time. He saw them amidst specific memories from the past, each laughing, smiling, or doing something stupid. Just a few days before this last mission, they’d spent the night at one of their favorite watering holes on the outskirts of Capriana. Flow looked up from one too many Klindish ales and let out a belch that would have rivaled an elephant’s trunk blast.

  Flow could drink, Magnus mused as he shook his head, reminded once again of how the black-skinned warrior had gotten his nickname. ’Cause ale never stopped flowing—so much so that Flow had been unaware that he wasn’t wearing any pants that night. Some of the other Recon guys had removed them hours before, but Flow didn’t care. “Doesn’t change the taste of the beer,” he yelled and called for another round.

  Corporal Miguel “Cheeks” Chico, on the other hand, had two arms around two different alien girls at the bar. He was completely unaware that they were “anatomically incompatible” to him, as the doctor had later said. Cheeks told the story with pride the next afternoon in the barracks as he showed off bandages that were wrapped around his abdomen and buttocks. He’d more than lived up to his nickname.

  Mouth was the storyteller. Magnus had no idea if anything Corporal Allan Franklin said was true, but he didn’t care. Mouth could get guys laugh
ing around a table faster and louder than anyone Magnus had ever met, and it had earned him the strange but appropriate moniker.

  The memories, mostly of the Fearsome Four, kept Magnus company as he trudged through the sand. He realized more and more how much he cared for his men—how much he missed them and hoped they were still alive. If any of his brothers were still on this cursed planet, he would find them, dead or alive. Fate had delivered him right back to where he’d started, which couldn’t have been an accident. He was here for a reason. No comms, no food, almost no water, and limited weapons—which was really pissing him off—but he never backed away from a challenge. The Recon never quit, never gave up, and never gave in to anything but mission success. If his men needed rescuing, he would get it done, and if their bodies needed burial, he would see to it. On any other planet but this one.

  Suddenly, an image of Awen hung in his mind. She was sitting on Ezo’s ship, her knees tucked up to her chin as Magnus handed her a cup of tea. The herbal smell warmed him somehow, as did her face. Despite being a prude, she was…

  What was she, Magnus? He fought with himself as his feet stomped through the sand. She was beautiful, he admitted to himself. Her purple eyes—and something about the way she smiled at him—haunted him. Awen was also feisty, and he liked that. Most people just took orders from Magnus, or else he had them detained or thrown in the brig. Plus, most women he’d ever been around had seemed too easily enamored with his uniform or his commanding presence. But not Awen. From the very start, she’d defied him. It had irritated him, for sure. But it also had an endearing quality. He liked that she wasn’t a pushover. She was petite, but she was a fierce one.

  Magnus felt empathy for Awen. She’d lost people in her team, and that was never something a person forgot. The nightmares, the guilt, the second-guessing—all of it was very real and very dangerous. Magnus had known good men who, after being subjected to similar scenarios, had lost their minds and were never able to reenter civilian life after being medically discharged from the Marines.