Defiance (Atlantia Series Book 5) Page 15

  Lazarus grinned, his hands folded before him as he stood in front of Andaim.

  ‘Your sense of tactics is admirably shrewd, commander,’ he said. ‘But do you make your play now, or do you hold off until you receive word from Captain Sansin?’

  ‘Idris is down there in the company of Mikhain, who now has every damned reason to try to protect himself at the expense of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to inform the Galactic Council of your presence here in return for his own asylum on Oassia.’

  ‘Mikhain’s is a soul obsessed with self–preservation,’ Lazarus lamented, ‘as are those of so many human beings, and understandably so. We wish to live. However, the council will see any such act as one of cowardice and it may serve to strengthen Idris’s position.’

  ‘We can’t rely on that,’ Andaim insisted.

  ‘I agree. What would you have me do?’

  ‘You said that you cannot carry out any act without Emma’s acquiescence?’

  ‘That is true – I inserted the requirement into my own program. It cannot be revoked.’

  ‘We’re being jammed and cannot send signals to Arcadia, but you and Emma could both hear the Legion’s presence despite the jamming.’

  Lazarus nodded as he realized what Andaim was driving at.

  ‘You think that if I can communicate with Emma, I can take control of Atlantia and protect us? Perhaps, but the problem will be whether Emma can hear me.’

  ‘I need to know what’s hiding on the other side of Oassia,’ Andaim insisted. ‘If I can give you control of Atlantia’s systems would you be able to hear the Legion?’

  Lazarus stared at Andaim for a long moment. ‘You would trust me with such control?’

  ‘You handled Atlantia well enough against the Morla’syn before,’ Andaim pointed out. ‘I’m sure you can handle a secure communications channel and avoid detection by the Morla’syn.’

  Lazarus nodded.

  ‘Enter the standard frequency into my terminal and open a link to Atlantia’s communications terminal, but I cannot promise anything. Emma’s sensitivity to the Legion is not as developed as my own.’

  ***

  XXI

  The Galactic Council Chamber was a vast amphitheatre that resided within the very heart of the city and was entirely surrounded by transparent walls, floor and ceiling. Evelyn felt her heart lurch in her chest and her legs weaken as her mind struggled to orientate itself to the vertigo–inducing panorama around her.

  The chamber contained some five hundred seats arranged around the amphitheatre in stacked galleys, those seats variously designed for the bi–pedal, quadrupedal and non–limbed species who now populated the chamber. Almost full to capacity, Evelyn figured that this appearance by the scant remains of humanity was as important a meeting to the rest of the known cosmos as it was to the humans at the heart of it.

  ‘Looks like we’ve drawn quite a crowd,’ Teera said as they stepped out into the centre of the amphitheatre.

  Evelyn almost hesitated as she looked down. Beneath her boots were several inches of perfectly clear glass, and below that a two hundred cubit drop to the vast ocean below. She looked up and almost lost her balance as she saw a huge, clear dome above them, the blue sky above flecked with clouds. Here in the heart of Oassia no towering city spires obscured the view of the heavens above, whether by day or by night.

  The walls of the chamber were likewise transparent, and displayed the city around them in all of its technological glory, a reminder of all the many species represented here. No politician, no governor or councillor, could speak or act in this chamber without being both seen and heard by every resident of the planet if they were so inclined to listen in.

  General Veer led them to a podium, likewise transparent, in the centre of the amphitheatre, where several discreetly hovering translator bots and sensors would amplify their voices and translate them into the countless dialects required for so many differing species to communicate effectively.

  The commingled conversations of a thousand races, their homeworlds scattered across countless light years, filled the dome of the amphitheatre and made it seem as though the waves far below were making sufficient noise to be heard by Evelyn as she stood to one side and allowed Idris to take the lead. Mikhain, perhaps chastened by his recent arrest, likewise stood back discreetly as Idris followed Veer up onto the podium.

  Evelyn watched them both, and realized with a sudden belated gasp that all of the air traffic outside had ceased motion and that countless pedestrians and wheeled vehicles had stopped. Literally, it seemed that the entire population of Oassia was watching the chamber. The only thing she could not see beyond the chamber itself was evidence of a single human being.

  ‘You really think we’re the only ones left now?’ Teera whispered to Evelyn, evidently having realized the same absence of humanity. ‘I haven’t seen a single human being on Oassia since we arrived, apart from us.’

  Evelyn shook her head. ‘Nor me. I can’t believe that nobody else thought to come here. I’m sure we would have done ourselves, if Captain Sansin hadn’t believed that we could fight back on our own.’

  The buzz and whisper of the countless conversations faded like an errant wind into a deep silence as thousands of eyes, ears, antennae and sonar detecting whiskers were directed down toward the podium.

  ‘Councillors,’ General Veer said, his voice carrying across the vast auditorium and echoing around them. ‘I give you the last survivors of the human race, led by Captain Idris Sansin of the Atlantia, and Captain Mikhain of the Arcadia, two surviving frigates of the Etheran Colonial Fleet.’

  A deep silence followed, and Evelyn briefly wondered whether the captain was supposed to get the proceedings underway. With everything so rushed and with no Etheran ambassador to guide them, she had no idea of the accepted protocol.

  Any doubt was dispelled when a bloated, jelly–like species in a tub–sized seat rose up before the podium, bioluminescent algae flickering deep within its torso. The same creature that had accompanied Veer out onto the landing platform when they had arrived, Evelyn could see no eyes to speak of, merely diaphanous black dots either side of a bulge atop its form. Almost as transparent as the amphitheatre itself, the creature pointed one tentacle like appendage at the captain and its translated dialect, a series of deep and tremulous blasts like the sound of horns underwater, echoed around the chamber.

  ‘Captain Sansin, my name is Rh’yll, and I am both a native Oassian and spokesperson for the Galactic Council. Your crew and dependents have been allowed into the Oassia system in order to state your plea for asylum from the terror you call The Word, and its Legion. This welcome has not been granted lightly and there are many here who would like to see what remains of your species eradicated before it can cause any more damage to the galaxy we share. What do you plea on behalf of your people?’

  Captain Sansin lifted his chin and spoke clearly.

  ‘That we are granted the same humane rights as any other species represented by the council. That we are granted asylum and a safe haven from which we can launch an offensive against The Word.’

  A sudden awful cacophony filled the chamber, and Evelyn winced at the raucous noise as it ebbed and echoed around them. Captain Sansin remained admirably silent and still as what Evelyn could only assume was laughter among the chamber died down.

  Rh’yll peered down at Sansin. ‘The council finds your notion amusing, captain.’

  Idris glanced around him at the surrounding chamber. ‘I would like to know what they find so amusing about the genocide of an entire species? Would they laugh if, tonight, ninety per cent of their own people were slaughtered?’

  The remaining chortles fell silent as Rh’yll’s gelatinous form reared up once more.

  ‘The council is not here to be judged, it is here to pass judgement,’ he rumbled back.

  ‘The definition of a dictatorship,’ Idris replied calmly.

  This time the sounds of gasps and clicks of horror fluttered
like a live current across the chamber and Evelyn winced again.

  ‘You insult us when you have come here for help?’ Rh’yll growled.

  ‘We did not come here for help,’ Idris snapped back. ‘We came here for asylum, to state our case, to plead for a safe haven for the civilians who travel with us. We came here in search of a safe place for them to stay in order that we could take the fight back to our enemy without fear for their lives.’ Idris looked around him at the chamber. ‘We came here for the chance to fight back, so that none of you would have to. This is our mess, but we cannot clean it up with one hand tied behind our backs.’

  Rh’yll remained motionless for a long moment as he stared at the captain and then looked up at the species populating the countless seats in the surrounding amphitheatre.

  ‘This council has represented our known and shared territories within this galaxy for over two thousand of your Etheran years,’ Rh’yll said. ‘Worlds have risen and fallen in that time, species joined and later become extinct due to their conflicts and mistakes, their technological errors born of a desire to overreach what they were capable of managing. But never, in all that time, has any endeavour by a single race threatened the entire galaxy, perhaps even the universe, as this Legion that your humanity has created.’

  Rh’yll shifted position, his glowing innards flickering at the movement as he pointed at Idris.

  ‘You have, as a species, already lost a great deal. Vessels travelling through or nearby Ethera detected the millions of distress signals coming from the system and warned us of the apocalypse. We know well, all of us, of the terrible slaughter that must have occurred on your homeworld and of the losses that you have all endured. What you ask of us now, captain, in light of all that humanity has already done, is to throw our lot in with the handful of human beings remaining and say that we shall stand alongside you against this tyrannical force that you created, and risk our lives doing so.’

  Idris shook his head.

  ‘We did not create The Word,’ he argued. ‘It was created by people long before we were born, and it was designed to emulate what this very council champions as the ideal governance – devoid of greed, of malice, of the desire for revenge or dominion.’

  ‘A machine is not a species!’ General Veer raged. ‘A machine cannot be trusted to have any biological creature’s best interests at heart, especially not one that has attained self–awareness. Look around you captain, at all of these species with whom humanity shares the cosmos. All of them achieved their status with time and with effort and mutual respect, not by displacing responsibility for their actions onto a computerized dictatorship.’

  Evelyn could see Idris grinding his jaw as he formulated a response.

  ‘It’s hard to see how my forebearers could have developed mutual respect when we were imprisoned within the Icari Line, denied exposure to the richer cosmos beyond, subjected to scare tactics to prevent us from travelling further.’

  ‘For good reason,’ Rh’yll replied calmly, ‘as we have now seen.’

  ‘Are you going to help us or not?’ Idris snapped.

  Rh’yll reared up in his seat once more, and Evelyn saw his gelatinous body shudder as though he had been struck.

  ‘The council feels unanimously that humanity has done quite enough damage, and that the threat that comes from the Legion that you created cannot be dealt with adequately by the few humans left remaining. Your fleet is weak and obsolete, your crews tired and dejected, your supplies low and your enemy growing stronger with every passing moment. This is not an act of punishment, captain, it is an act of mercy. Your vessels will be impounded and your crews, military and civilian, transported to a safe haven as you have requested while the council organises a response to the Legion’s threat.’

  Evelyn could not help herself.

  ‘You’re burying us?!’ she gasped, the microphones hovering alongside the podium sensitive enough to detect her exclamation. Two of them suddenly zipped across to her side to better pick up her response.

  Rh’yll and several hundred delegates all turned to look at Evelyn.

  ‘We’re removing the root cause of the problem,’ he responded.

  ‘You’re also removing the cure,’ Idris fought back. ‘Evelyn here is one of a very few individuals who is naturally immune to the Legion’s Infectors.’ A gasp went up from the delegates as Idris went on. ‘That immunity has been synthesized and used to vaccinate all of our people against the Legion. We have learned much on our journey. To hide us away now would be to abandon the very knowledge needed to conquer The Word.’

  Rh’yll peered suspiciously at Evelyn.

  ‘How does a human being develop a natural immunity to machines?’ he murmured. ‘Machines are mechanical, not biological, and thus could not be identified by any known killer cells.’

  Evelyn thought that Idris would reply on her behalf, but instead the captain stood to one side on the podium and beckoned her to join him. Gingerly, Evelyn stepped up alongside him and spoke to Rh’yll.

  ‘It’s a long story but given the circumstances we face, I believe that you should all know the truth.’ She looked at the captain for acquiescence, and he nodded once. ‘I am effectively the great–granddaughter of a clone, one designed specifically to defend against The Word’s Infectors.’

  More gasps, this time louder and more alarmed, conversations rippling through the council.

  ‘You are a creation of The Word itself?’ Rhy’ll rippled in horror.

  ‘No, merely the descendent of one,’ Evelyn replied. ‘The creator of The Word, on his deathbed, realized what he had done, the danger he had created. He thus created a defence against it, and inserted that defense into the human population in the hope that it would grow and come to prevent any apocalypse. He failed, but the creation lives on in me and in my sister.’

  More horrified exclamations and Rh’yll visibly shuddered. ‘And you know all of this, how?’

  Evelyn swallowed. Although she knew of the danger of revealing everything to the council now, honesty seemed by far the best policy. There had been too many lies, too many deceptions that had held humanity back on its quest for freedom from the Legion. Now was the time to come clean and begin a new journey.

  ‘The creator of The Word, Doctor Ceyen Lazarus, lives on as a holographic projection. He uploaded his consciousness before his death in order to combat the spread of The Word.’

  An uproar surged from the crowd, and despite the coalesced commotion of hundreds of different dialects, Evelyn could detect the sense of panic poisoning the atmosphere around them. Rhy’ll appealed for calm and the delegates fell silent once more.

  ‘You realize, do you not,’ Rh’yll said, ‘that you just broadcast to every single living intelligent being in the Oassia system that you are willingly collaborating with the Legion?’

  ‘Lazarus is not the Legion, and we believe that he is key to understanding the nature of The Word – know your enemy, as we often say.’

  Rh’yll stared down with his tiny black light sensors and then spoke softly.

  ‘Know your enemy indeed,’ he replied. ‘An idiom we have applied to humanity on every occasion possible.’

  ‘We can fight The Word,’ Idris insisted. ‘We have the skills and the knowledge to turn the tide of this war if you’d only have some faith in our determination to rid the galaxy of this…’

  ‘Thing that you’ve created?’ Rhy’ll cut across him. ‘This monstrosity that is consuming entire worlds even as we speak? You believe that you can destroy The Word, eradicate its Legion, and yet you have no knowledge of what it has achieved. You have been running blind, captain, and behind you is the wake of your species’ hideous legacy.’

  Evelyn gasped as from nowhere appeared a massive, shimmering hologram that filled half of the amphitheatre and allowed every member of the council to see the display. It was a beautiful, glowing series of lines and lights that she recognised instantly as the local area of the galaxy in which they all lived, several tens
of thousands of light years’ worth of stars, nebulae, black holes and stellar nurseries.

  ‘You want to know what you are facing?’ Rhy’ll challenged them. ‘This, captain, is what you believe that you alone can fight.’

  As Evelyn watched, so from one side of the three–dimensional map began to spread a dark, scarlet patch. Evelyn saw Ethera, the Core Systems, Caneeron and other local planetary bodies suddenly consumed by the red glow as though the galaxy were bleeding from some horrific wound.

  The red patch spread, not evenly like a blood stain but in jagged red spikes, like the tentacles of some unspeakable beast as it writhed and coiled and reached out to consume and destroy. The cancerous stain swallowed whole worlds and began to fill the amphitheatre around them, the light from the sky streaming in from above stained a dull red that reflected off their faces as though they were once again aboard Atlantia and under battle conditions.

  The stain expanded to contain almost a quarter of the galactic plane, the Veng’en homeworld of Wraiythe almost within reach of its tentacles, and now a thin stream like a blood–red knife blade reached out to the small world of Akyron V, on the edge of the Galactic Council’s space and where Atlantia had encountered the Legion in orbit.

  The amphitheatre fell silent as the gathered species observed the sheer magnitude of the Legion’s expansion in the space of the past three Etheran years. Evelyn looked at Captain Sansin and felt dismay settle heavily upon her shoulders as she saw the captain’s upright stance slacken and his head hang low as he realized the true scale of what they faced.

  Rh’yll looked down at them, his form now resting back in his tub–like seat.

  ‘This is what we all face,’ he said solemnly. ‘This is the legacy of mankind, captain, and we will tolerate further contamination of the Galactic Plane no more. Your frigates are hopelessly out–classed and would be annihilated should you attempt to face the Legion in open battle. Surrender completely to our forces now and we will attempt to protect your people as best we can. Refuse, and we shall have no option but to destroy your frigates where they are.’