The Animus Gate (Book One of The Animus Trilogy) Page 23

  He had no idea how fast his pursuer could go, though, and this boat wasn’t exactly a speedster. If he wanted to make it to Telegate 1B, he needed something more.

  Darius dropped one-quarter of his mines out the back of the ship. They were limpets, so they could latch onto the Intrepid if it got too close. He watched through his ship’s rear camera as the tail took immediate evasive action.

  It bought him another half-kilometer.

  He thought about something his uncle had told him years ago: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Omar had been referring to a campaign where the empire had pit the Shiza against the Kri. But it occurred to Darius that the idea could work just as well here.

  He worked out the message in his head, then he activated his ship’s SOS transponder. “To all imperial vessels in the area,” he said, “This is the prisoner transport Dionysus requesting immediate assistance. I am under attack by an unknown vessel, and I require immediate aid. My coordinates and vector are attached to this message.” Darius set the recording to repeat itself every 10 seconds.

  According to the ship’s calculations, the only vessels that would be in range by the time he hit the telegate would be the Intrepid and the imperial cruiser Valmont.

  The Intrepid was hailing him again. They’d picked up his SOS, as he’d hoped. Give them something to stew over. He had no intention of answering.

  After about a minute, the incoming call disappeared from his board. Then came the missile locks. Darius shot his chaff. With this much distance between himself and the Intrepid, he wouldn’t even feel much of a blast wave. And he suspected that he had more chaff than they had missiles.

  With his destination locked in, and the ship’s AI set to drop more chaff as needed, Darius got up and floated over to the medical locker at the rear of the cockpit. The Dionysus wasn’t large enough to house a gravity field, so he would be moving around in zero-gee. He dug through the contents of the locker until he found some medical sealant for his left arm. This would protect his limb for now, but if he had to go EVA, the sealant wouldn’t be able to handle the cold of vacuum. It wasn’t designed for that.

  In fact, it was probably time to remove his armor and replace it with a pressure suit. There had to be a spare somewhere on this tub.

  Darius glanced over at the comm board in the cockpit. At the speed of light, it would take another ten minutes or so before his SOS reached the Valmont. Then they would start hailing him. “Who is on board?” they would ask. “Is anyone injured? Are you the fugitive that the prison reported earlier?” He decided to let them wonder. Their imaginations would be more effective that any story he could cook up.

  Darius investigated a small locker in the cockpit, found two pressure suits within, and opted for the newer-looking one. He needed it to replace the one that the phosphorous round had partially eaten through. Then he began unlatching the individual sections of his combat armor. It was such a familiar process from his training that his mind began to drift like it might if he were field-stripping his rifle or even loading some dirty dishes into a washer.

  He had been wondering how the imperials had been so quick to arrive at Baloneth, and some pieces were now finally coming together.

  When Nadira sat down in the chair beneath the ruins, the counterpart that she stumbled into must have alerted the empire on this side. The two empires, if such a thing existed, didn’t necessarily have to be working together. All they needed was an alert of sufficient urgency going out over the wire, and the empire on this side would do the rest. The other empire could falsify a report claiming that Nadira and Darius were terrorist agitators, and the cavalry on this side would come rushing in. Then the other empire could swoop in later and eliminate her and Darius, and perhaps anyone they had blabbed to about the real prize that had lain hidden underneath the ruins.

  The absence of his own counterpart was still a mystery. Shouldn’t he have seen the other Darius when he sat in the chair? Or maybe it didn’t work like that. These two spheres of existence could be different in a variety of ways. He wondered about the other one. What kind of life had he led? Had he even lived to begin with?

  And perhaps most importantly, how did the other empire appear to be several steps ahead of this one?

  He shook his head and finished putting his pressure suit on. He looked forward to the day when answers would stop leading to more questions.

  It was time to check the ship logs that had popped up while he'd been scouring for a suit. He floated back to the cockpit to scan through them. They indicated that the Intrepid had shot three more missiles before giving up. Darius couldn’t tell how many more they had to spare. But he was apparently out of the range of their guns. Every time they got close, his ship’s AI would just drop another mine. There were two left. It was too bad that he couldn’t send these devices out on a tether, to act as a barrier.

  Thirteen hails had gone unanswered.

  At some point, he would have to deal with high-powered projectiles. While the Intrepid wasn’t large enough for weapons with the kinetic force required to be effective in space, the Valmont did not have that problem. Among other toys, its spinal railgun could put such a big hole in the Dionysus that you could fly another Dionysus right through it.

  So the question was, would the Valmont fire on him first, or the Intrepid?

  If I were the captain of an imperial cruiser, he thought to himself, which target would I consider the greater threat?

  He couldn’t know for sure. He was army, not navy. He knew basic aerial and zero-gee scenarios, but the military never trained soldiers on high-level fleet maneuvers or tactics. He was stretched to the limit of his spaceflight knowledge already.

  He looked through the cockpit window. For a moment, he wondered if there was anyone in this system who had cared to make their own constellations and tell stories about them. As he imagined the possibilities, he realized that Telegate 1B was already within visual range.

  Where does the time go?

  “Dionysus,” he said to the ship, “give me an ETA to Telegate 1B.”

  “ETA is 6 minutes and 37 seconds, Captain.”

  “Estimated time until the last mine has been used?”

  “At the current usage rate...I estimate four minutes.”

  “All right,” said Darius, “announce hull integrity damage in 10% increments, and notify me when we are within two minutes of reaching Telegate 1B.”

  “Aye, Captain, setting notifications.”

  It was going to be tight. Too tight. He was in between the Intrepid and the Valmont like a bug between a road and a tank tread.

  As if to drive the point home, the jolts from the Intrepid’s energy weapons had begun again. He guessed that he had used up his last mine.

  “Rear hull integrity at 60 percent, Captain,” said the Intrepid.

  He needed something more. Darius got back up and took another look around the ship. Behind the cockpit and to his left was a compartment that he hadn’t checked yet. It said “Authorized Personnel Only” on it. He’d assumed it was the armory, which he had no use for.

  He opened the hatch, and sure enough, there were a couple sets of semi-plated armor and a rack full of less-lethal weapons.

  But at the far side of the compartment was a one-man escape pod.

  This changed things.

  “Dionysus,” he said, “ETA to Telegate 1B.”

  “ETA is 4 minutes and 16 seconds, Captain.”

  “Dionysus, set a three minute self-destruct when we are within 60 seconds of arrival.”

  “Please confirm previous instruction, Captain.”

  He repeated the order, and the ship set its self-destruct timer.

  He double-checked the seal on his pressure suit and then climbed into the escape pod. He tried not to think about the poor maintenance that the ship may already have suffered. He tried not to think about low-bid defense contracts and the odds of the escape pod’s jets failing to fire.

  “Dionysus, which direction does your escape pod
go when released?”

  “Directly upwards, Captain.”

  “When rear hull integrity reaches 20 percent, dip the nose of the ship 90 degrees relative to Telegate 1B. Maintain forward progress.”

  “Aye, Captain, preparing to pitch 90 degrees down according to your parameters.”

  This would give the Intrepid a much fatter target to shoot at, but Darius couldn’t worry about that now. Instead, he crawled into the escape pod, strapped himself down, and sealed it up.

  He heard the distinctive sound of explosive decompression coming through the underside of the Dionysus. The Intrepid’s cannons were finally cutting through the hull. The bottom of the ship was a lot more ground to cover than the back, so the shields were spread more thinly.

  “Dionysus,” he said, “record a message to the Valmont. Repeat in five-second intervals.”

  “Ready to record, Captain.”

  “Imperial cruiser Valmont, this is the captain of the imperial ship Dionysus. I am being fired upon by an unknown hostile vessel, and I require immediate assistance. Please provide all available aid immediately.”

  “Captain,” said the ship, “60 seconds to Telegate 1B. Rear hull integrity at 30 percent. Valmont has begun charging its main cannon.”

  So much for that. “Dionysus, pitch down 90 now, then launch the escape pod!”

  The ship’s thrusters fired all around, first to change orientation, then counter-thrust to maintain it. Then Darius felt an incredible surge of g-force as the pod went rocketing away from the ship. There were no windows in a pod this small. That would just put a strain on life support. So he could only imagine what was going on outside this thin shell of metal.

  He felt a blast wave. It must have been the Valmont firing its main cannon. Either the Intrepid or the Dionysus was getting vaporized. The pod was shaking so violently that he couldn’t tell.

  He brought up a holo projection of the telegate on his wristpad. Just as he hoped—it was going into emergency shutdown mode. Within the next ten seconds or so, it would deactivate itself.

  Darius wasn’t a religious man. So he just closed his eyes and thought of his brother, his mother, his father, Nadira, and everyone else who mattered to him. If this was the end, he wanted them to be the last thing to go through his mind.

  He felt an enormous blast from the direction of his ship, then he fell into darkness.

  Part Three

  Ku Atta Kané

  -14-

  Someone floats in the depths of space. A voice whispers in an ear.

  “Son of the seeker.”

  This voice is like many voices at once, coming from all around.

  Thoughts flicker. Slivers of memory drift in a mind. There is a face, out of focus.

  “Father,” said the voice.

  The image is clearer now. A man in a tweed jacket. Greying beard. Once friendly and impish eyes. Now sunken. Staring at a piece of paper.

  “Father.”

  “Saeed,” another voice whispers. It emanates from the flickering mind.

  “The father drinks. The father sees. The father seeks the path.”

  “Path...?”

  “The path is to the door. The door is open. The father watches.”

  “Watches...”

  “The path is broken. The father is afraid. The father does not speak. Others come. Others drink.”

  “Drink...” Another memory stirs. A fire. A forest. A ragged horizon.

  “The path is clear. New seekers. The door is found. This seeker is not afraid. The seeker walks the path.”

  As memory stirs, curiosity follows. “Who?”

  “Once Orida. Now 113.”

  “113?”

  “The number is the mark. The mark is the path. The path is the answer.”

  “Answer...?”

  “Mother.”

  There is a woman in the mind’s eye now. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Matronly.

  “Mother.”

  The image comes more sharply now. Loving eyes, sad eyes. There is a name on the tip of a tongue.

  “Mother.”

  “Zara,” he says. There is discomfort.

  “Brother.”

  Tall. Eyes like his father. Beard is dark. Shirt is bloody.

  “Brother.”

  “Rali,” he says. The discomfort blooms into pain.

  “Companion.”

  A dark-skinned woman with dark hair turning gray. High cheekbones. Carries a bow.

  “Companion.”

  “Nadira,” he says. The pain spreads into fire.

  There is no time here. Fire burns unending.

  “I.”

  There is not one person. Through the flames: a kaleidoscope of faces.

  “You. All of You. Facets of the One.”

  The being is a fractal mandala of beings. One hundred and thirteen facets. The number is the mark.

  “We.”

  The mandala opens, and the being falls through. The pain recedes. Faces become fractals that become faces. Unending.

  “You are now. All of You are now. There is only now.”

  The mark is the path. The path is the answer.

  “What is Zara?”

  “The heart that breaks,” he says.

  “What is Saeed?”

  “The mind that reels.”

  “What is Rali?”

  “The life that is given.”

  “What is Nadira?”

  “The vengeance that burns.”

  “What is I?”

  “The seeker of answers.”

  “As you seek, so shall you be found.”

  The fractals fall away into a mist. The mist surrounds. Into the mist there comes a light. From the light there come voices, distant. The voices drift closer. The light becomes brighter. The light has a place. The voices shape words.

  “...not sure how long he’s been out, hon. O2 tank was tapped when we found him. But he’s still got vitals. Just barely. Hey, help me get this tube in him. Just gotta make an incision...”

  Voices fade. Light fades. There is no time.

  Words again.

  “...have to be honest with you, I’ve never pulled someone back who was gone for this long. We just have to pray that...”

  Silence.

  Blinking.

  His world is a pile of puzzle pieces. A place. A room. A bright light. A ceiling. A ceiling with a bright light. Humming. A ship. A room on a ship with a bright light in a ceiling.

  Hands. Feet. Body. Face. Eyes seeing. Ears listening. The aspects of perception and bodyhood slowly resolve into a self.

  And there is another. To the right side of the self. In a chair. Sleeping. A woman. Dark-skinned. Dark-haired. Graying.

  A voice. His voice. No words. There is a throat that hurts. His throat.

  A hand rises. His hand. It touches a face. His face. The face looks down. There is a body. His body.

  He tries to speak. The throat is dry. He coughs.

  The woman wakes.

  The mark is the path. The path is the answer.

  ✽✽✽

  Nadira unlatched herself from her chair and floated over to Darius.

  “Answers...” he croaked.

  She collected a water pouch from a rack to the right of his bed and gave him a sip. “Not too much,” she said. “Don't want to choke you.”

  It tasted like plastic. But it was also the most delicious water he’d ever had. He smacked his lips.

  “I thought we’d lost you,” she said. She squeezed his arm and looked down at it. “What happened to your hand? And your arms?”

  “Army.” He coughed again. “The Army did. How...how did you find me?”

  “I wouldn’t let them leave. I insisted on a full sweep. I had a hunch. A feeling.” Her eyes wandered over the scars and burns that he’d collected since they had parted ways at Baloneth.

  He chuckled. It turned into another cough. “Now who’s being reckless,” he rasped.

  “If you died out there, I’d never be able to
give you a proper scolding, young man. Now stop talking. You need rest.”

  “But where are we? Did everyone make it?”

  “No more questions. Rest.”

  He rested. There was sleep. He did not dream.

  There was a thump. He woke and looked up. Someone was coming through the hatch. It was Cahill.

  “Darius! Glad to see that the interminable hours we spent scanning for your ass weren’t a complete waste of time.”

  “Nice to see you too. Can you hand me that water pouch?”

  “What, are your hands broken too?” She floated over to the rack and handed him a pouch.

  He took a grateful sip. “Thanks. By the way—how are any of you alive?”

  “Well, your little stunt with that imperial transport bought us some time. We were hiding half-buried in the muck, and they were about to converge on us, then you went rocketing overhead. I think you tricked them into believing that we were all on board with you.”

  “Yeah...that was the plan all along...”

  “Sure, sure.” Cahill sat down in the chair and held herself down with one of its straps. “Anyways, we slogged it back to Figueroa and slipped away without anyone noticing. Half the system was after you instead.”

  “Oh yeah, I sent out an SOS.”

  “Yeah, we heard it come in on the wideband. Are you insane?”

  “Probably. But like my uncle Omar used to say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “Yeah, that’s an old one, Bakari. But who was the other enemy?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me,” said Cahill. She looked perfectly comfortable in zero-gee, and it took him a moment to realize that it was because of her quarter-century as an imperial Marine. She’d probably spent more time drifting in space than walking on soil.

  “I think it’s also classified,” said Darius. “You remember Baloneth, and how you didn’t want to know anything about it?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to stay off the chessboard. But I think it’s a little late for that now.”

  Darius sat up. He had straps across his waist and his ankles to keep him from floating away. “Cahill, what’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen? Like, technologically. Something so exotic that you couldn’t wrap your head around it.”