Aurora Rising: The Complete Collection (20 page)

He assumed the particular makeup of Metis’ EM signature interfered with transmission protocols, both governmental and commercial. Given communications were ‘classified as a critical system,’ he imagined the VI might be somewhat concerned about the matter.

“VI, do you know the reason for the interference in communications?”

“Though no single emission is strong enough to interfere with our systems, the overall EM makeup of this region is nonetheless diffracting all external signals to the point their integrity is lost.”

“How so?”

A pause, far longer than normal.
“I cannot determine the precise mechanism at this time.”

Though cognizant it consisted solely of qubits, he felt a strange urge to reassure the VI. “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

“I will continue to analyze the problem.”

Wave diffraction was a common enough occurrence, if not often to such damaging effect. Space in its natural state did not always cater to human preferences. On his return he’d submit a log of the interference, and within a few months the Senecan security protocols at least would be adjusted to counteract it. So long as the region stayed uninhabited, the exanet purveyors weren’t likely to give a shit.

He played with the Evanec settings for a while, but refining the bands merely seemed to make the problem worse—not that ‘null’ could really be made worse. Resigned to the fact he did not possess the ability to improve matters, he relaxed in the pilot’s chair and surveyed the situation.

Whatever the source of the anomalous readings which had sent him here, it was a solid day to day and a half away based on the rate of increase in the signal strength. The probe had traveled more than a hundred parsecs farther into the Nebula than his current location.

Still, for obvious reasons he took things slowly. This was unfamiliar territory with unknown factors at work and no safety net should something go wrong. While he would be the first to go in with guns blazing where the circumstance called for it, this one did not. So he moved carefully, scanning and recording for future analysis by those more scientifically minded than he.

He was standing up to go make a sandwich when the physical sensor blinked an alert. He eased back into the chair and magnified the screen.

Buried in the shadow of backlit clouds, 0.01 AU away, floated a small planet. The initial scan indicated moderate gravity and a reasonable atmosphere, albeit one consisting of toxic air and volatile weather patterns, which didn’t come as a surprise. What star did it belong to? The pulsar? It wasn’t common for pulsars to have planets, though it did happen. Perhaps it was a rogue, ejected from orbit in the eons-past supernova explosion.

He called up his astroscience files, projected them to an aural and scrolled down them in an effort to recall—

—a flicker…no, an
absence
, a dark gap in the nebular clouds, caught the corner of his eye. In a breath he shifted to full alert.

There was no logical explanation for why his senses were instantly hyper-focused and nanobot-aided adrenaline already rushed through his veins. But preternatural instincts was one reason the government paid him a rather generous salary.

He swung around to sweep the area in a broad arc, and came up empty. The sensors detected only the noise Metis radiated. Yet a moment later a well-defined
void
was distinctly silhouetted against a dense fog of dust, illuminated by the pale golden glow of the Metis interior. He checked the scans again. Nada.

The sensors told him the region was empty. His eyes told him otherwise. His ocular implant strained to zoom in and focus on the distant shadow; he would have a headache later. He tensed as the silhouette solidified in his vision into the outline of an artificial construct. He’d call it a ship, but….

Then it whipped about and accelerated toward him and he decided it was most definitely a ship. Aerodynamic and tinted an inky black, it resembled nothing so much as a bird of prey preparing to swoop down upon him.

“Son of a
bitch
!” How the bloody fuck had those mercs tracked him here? This vessel was supposed to be stealthy. It
was
stealthy. The scans of the ship had come up squeaky clean. No bloody fucking way could they have tracked him—except for the fact they very plainly had. He slid into the heavier gas clouds to his right, using the visual and EM cover to strafe to the side of his adversary.

Based on the trajectory and speed when the ship had been visible, he estimated the amount of time until it drew even. With a jerk across the controls he emerged from the clouds and fired on where it should be.

His instincts served him well; the other ship tacked away as an explosion blazed bright against its hull—it plummeted and swerved into a dense clump of dust—

—the laser lost tracking. Terrific. It must have one hell of an aversion shield.

No time to ponder it, for he promptly became the target of the return flare of a pulse laser—silver-white in hue, suggesting ytterbium crystal construction. Not a particle beam…and Alliance-produced? Odd.

In a smooth motion he accelerated in an arc up and over the attacker and entered a wall of thick nebular gases. He strafed horizontally before sinking down into the cover, hoping to sneak around and catch his adversary from underneath.

He exited the cloud to find the enemy due ahead and waiting for him.

Didn’t see that coming.

He jerked up at a fifty degree angle and away—

—but it was too late. The ship quaked beneath his hands from the impact of point-blank pulse laser fire.

He managed to get off a staccato of fire while in full reverse, though it was unclear if any of it hit. The attacker’s weapon did not lose tracking. A relentless pulse stream tore through his shields, then the outer hull. The rear of the ship plummeted into a wild spin as alerts flared across the HUD bank.

Letting loose a string of curses in half a dozen languages, he wrenched out of the spin and set a trajectory for the nearby planet. It had obviously been placed here
just
so he could crash on it.

He surrendered the controls to the CU long enough to pull on the environment suit and carry the helmet back to the chair. The helmet annoyed him; it cut off his senses and narrowed his perspective, and he wasn’t putting it on until it was required to continue living and breathing.

On retaking the controls he worked to approach the planet at an angle which stood a marginal chance of not turning the ship and him to flaming meteoroids. Concentrated as he was on flying a vessel which seemed to have lost most of its tail section, it took a few seconds for him to realize the incoming fire had ceased—possibly on account of the fact he was
clearly
already dead.

The turbulence of the planetary atmosphere sent the ship into violent convulsions. He threw everything into holding her steady, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Then the HUD went dark.

Then the aft section of the ship exploded.

Goddamn pain-in-my-ass mercs…
with a groan he pulled the helmet on and secured the seal to the suit, punched the evac and dove for the hatch.

It went without saying that there were no atmosphere corridors onto the small, barren planet buried within Metis.

Alex fought to maintain control of the damaged
Siyane
in the buffeting atmospheric forces. Visually she was blind, for the viewport revealed only the whirl of an impenetrable caramel-colored dust. She relied on the bank of displays to track altitude and angle of descent and to search the topography for a safe place to land. She needed to inspect the damage, and she just wasn’t crazy enough to open the engineering hatch while in space when she was fairly certain the lower hull had been blown wide open.

The fiery bloom of an explosion thirty degrees to starboard cut through the dust and haze. A harsh breath escaped between gritted teeth. She should feel satisfaction at the attacker’s destruction. Bastard had the gall to shoot her ship!

But extinguishing life wasn’t actually something she routinely—or ever—did, and deep down it hadn’t been her goal. She’d merely done what was necessary to defend herself. It was one of many lessons her father had impressed upon her once she was old enough to comprehend them.

Alex, if an attacker means you harm, you cannot hold back. The attacker will seize advantage of your attempt to preserve their life. They will take yours.

The simple and stark truth was the other ship fired first, giving her no choice but to destroy it before it destroyed her.

Still, her heart leapt of its own accord when a pinpoint blip appeared on the radio, mid-infrared and electronic sensor screens. The pilot had escaped prior to the vessel’s disintegration and currently plummeted toward the planet’s surface. Presumably they wore a suit and a chute and would land intact, for all the good it would do them.

Her initial relief at the sign of life dissolved into dismay. Without a way off the planet or any rescue incoming—assuming their communications capabilities were as nonexistent as hers had been since entering the Nebula—whether in two days or two weeks, the pilot was as good as dead.

“
Gavno!
” This person had tried to shoot her down, and would doubtless have left her to die had they succeeded. Likely a merc, assuredly a criminal and clearly dangerous; in all probability a killer who deserved to die.

But not by her hand.

She wasn’t a killer…though for perhaps the first time ever she almost regretted it.

Groaning in exasperation at an obstinate conscience, she yanked the ship into a rough trajectory toward where the pilot should be landing. It took some doing; the ship gyrated like a teenager on a chimeral high at a rave. When the opportunity came to inspect the hull she expected to find a royal shit-ton of damage.

But for now the exterior plasma shielding continued to hold. She forcibly drove the ship downward, weaving a path toward the projected impact point. She had to dodge the wreckage of the enemy ship twice as it cavorted wildly and wrenched apart from the pressure of the atmosphere and the pull of gravity.

Finally the air cleared—so to speak. Sand-saturated winds whipped through the sky, and physical visibility increased only to meters. She zeroed in on the weak electronic signature of the pilot’s suit while keeping an eye on the ground sensor; given the presumed damage to the lower hull there was no guarantee the collision warning still functioned.

She had slowed almost to a stop before the vague outline of a tensile-fiber chute billowing in the wind came into view.

Last chance to bail, Alex. Land beyond that hill on the topo map there and make sure you have basic functionality. Then hobble to Gaiae, repair your ship and get on with your life.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance and settled to the ground with a modicum of grace. After scanning the system monitors to make certain nothing threatened to go critical for the moment, she stood and pulled on her environment suit. She grabbed the Daemon from the cabinet and primed it prior to activating the hatch. Twenty seconds later she stepped onto a rather rudely unwelcoming world.

She struggled against punishing winds to approach the chute and the prone form tangled in it. Goddammit, was she going to have to go back and get a blade and cut the
suky sranuyu
out?

In a flurry of motion the pilot somehow disentangled from the chute and crawled to their knees.
Guess not.

The chute rose in the air to be caught by the wind and shredded to ribbons. The pilot stood, faltered for a second, then righted themselves and focused on her.

A deep male voice bearing a lilting, melodic timbre came over her suit’s vicinity comm. “Listen, whoever you are, I’m sure we can work something ou—”

She steadied the gun with both hands and fired.

PART
II
:

CAUSALITY

“Civilization begins with order, grows with liberty,