Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (31 page)

“I fail to understand your statement.” Almeerhan’s voice was as emotionless as ever, but Cutter could still sense a wave of confusion. “Your people are here, some of them at least. And when you find the system we have prepared, you can bring them back the knowledge of the Imperium…and prepare them for the test—the greatness—that lies ahead.

“You do not understand,” Cutter said, trying with limited success to hold back a renewed wave of anger as he did. “My people found a way to protect themselves from the Regent. They gained control of a massive warhead, a weapon of staggering power the Regent had planned to deploy against our home world. And they used it to disrupt a warp gate. Not just any warp gate, but one that served as the only known connection between our home space and the Imperium. It will be centuries before any ship can transit that point.”

There was a long pause. Finally, the voice of Almeerhan asked, “Then how did you come to be here? To make this contact?”

“I am part of a single fleet, one force of my people that was trapped on the other side of the gate when the warhead was detonated. I stand here before you not as the representative of a race of billions, with hundreds of worlds and vast fleets of spaceships. I am a member of a fugitive fleet, barely over one hundred ships and thirty thousand of my kind. We are lost, cut off from our people, fleeing from the Regent’s forces, struggling each day to survive to the next as our equipment and supplies dwindle. That is what has reached you, Almeerhan. That is what your five hundred thousand years of waiting has yielded.”

Cutter’s anger had begun to fade, or at least mix with other emotions. He suspected that on one level he would never adapt to the news he had just heard, that he would always feel rage that this ancient race had so interfered with humanity’s history. But now he began to feel compassion, pity. So many millennia, such a vast plan, so much work and sacrifice…to come so close to success. And to end like this.

Above all there was confusion. Was he right to fault Almeerhan and his brethren? Without the interference he cursed them for, perhaps there would be no mankind at all.
Or we would be vastly different, nothing at all like what we know ourselves to be. To fault those of the First Imperium for their actions is to reject my own existence
.

“How is this possible?” The voice was unchanged, but now it was entirely clear the entity was distraught, at least after a fashion, struggling to deal with what Cutter had told him. “So much planning, the last strength of my race poured into the project. The waiting…the endless, silent eons…”

“Where is this world?” Cutter walked across the room toward the sphere. “Where is the planet you prepared for us?”

“It is far from here, across a vast swath of imperial space. As far again as you have come already. It lies along the edge of the galactic arm, in a barely-explored sector. But what can so few of you do against the power of the Regent?”

“Perhaps nothing,” Cutter answered. “But what choice have we but to try? Perhaps…perhaps given time we can find a way to match the Regent. Its tactics and grasp of war are inferior. Our warriors have consistently defeated its forces unless vastly outnumbered. If we can automate…” He paused, slipping his hand in his pocket, his fingers sliding along the small data chip there that contained his virus. “Indeed, we may have our own weapons to add to those you provide us.”
One not unlike that the Regent used against your people…

“Perhaps,” the voice replied. “Perhaps there is a chance. For you were created to be greater than my people, not merely a replacement. And your DNA was drawn from the warrior caste, making all of you the descendants of soldiers…of the conquerors of a galaxy.”

Cutter felt odd, his emotions a roiling surge of confusion…of fear, rage, curiosity. But he kept all that bottled up, forced back beneath his will and intellect. However mankind had come to its current state, he realized it didn’t really matter much now. He had come here to find technology, the tools to take on the First Imperium. And Almeerhan had promised him just that…more indeed than he could have imagined when he had pressured Admiral Compton to approve the expedition.

“There is no alternative, in any event. If waiting for the rest of your people in several centuries was an option, I would do it. With respect to your fleet and companions, your sacrifice would be little added to those that have already been made in the pursuit to destroy the Regent. But waiting is impossible. I have put things into motion to save you and bring your people here. There is no way to go back.”

Cutter felt a twinge of fear. He’d almost forgotten the enemy forces on the planet. “The Regent’s forces?”

“Yes. We fought here the longest, and on this world, alone of all places, we destroyed the armies the Regent sent to destroy us. It was but a brief respite, we knew, for the vast forces of our own Imperium were now turned against us, and it would not be long before the Regent sent reserves…in such numbers as to defy imagination. But we used our time well. We built this refuge…and the last hundred of us, those who had volunteered to serve as Watchers, sealed ourselves in, behind great stealth barriers. And in this citadel we remained all this time, undetected and ignored…until this day, when I directed the defensive systems to activate and come to your aid. Our secrecy is now lost, and it is but a matter of time before the Regent’s forces return…and destroy everything.”

“What of your other people?”

“The hundred of us were down here, with limited surveillance capability. But even where we could not see we knew what was happening. My race’s final battle. I have no doubt my brethren fought well, that they exactly a great toll from the Regent’s war machines. But in the end they were defeated…and to the last they were rooted out and destroyed.

“The Watchers, one hundred of us—and by then the last of our people—waited…we waited to see if the Regent’s armies would find our refuge. But they never did. Years passed, and then turned to decades. The Watchers took turns standing vigil, one of us at a time manning the scanners while the rest of us remained in stasis chambers, extending our lives as long as we could. At last, after two hundred centuries, even spending most of that in stasis, we had all reached the end of our natural lifespans. Then we could put it off no longer. We transferred the essence of our knowledge and memories into the artificial intelligence units we had built…into a form that could be maintained indefinitely. Immortality, at least of a sort…and a way to span the vast gulf of time before we could expect your people to come.

“But it is one thing to think of immortality, even to lust after it…and quite another to experience it. Over the millennia, my people lost their will to continue, their very sanity, and one by one they begged for release…and they passed on into footsteps of our people. For untold ages this continued until I was the last one who remained, and I clung grimly to existence, for someone had to be here to greet you. But now my long watch is almost at an end. Soon I will join the rest of my people…and yours shall take our place.”

“My people may be able to move the unit that sustains you, take you back to our fleet. You needn’t die.” Cutter knew it wasn’t death, not really. Almeerhan had been dead for hundreds of thousands of years, at least in the sense Cutter understood death. But the great intellect that remained…he bristled at the thought of losing such contact so soon after gaining it.

“No, Hieronymus, though I know your intent is rooted in honor and kindness. But I would not exist any longer, not in this universe, in this form. What I was has been long gone, and what I remain exists only to serve a sacred purpose, one I have now almost completed. I thank you for your offer, but I must say no. I have but one final duty…to help you escape from this world and to provide you what help I can so you may reach your destination. Then I will go the way my race has gone…into oblivion or whatever awaits us.”

Cutter stood silently for a few seconds. He felt an almost irresistible urge to argue, to try to convince Almeerhan to come with him. But he knew in his gut the ancient warrior would refuse. He had stood vigil for half a million years, and Cutter couldn’t begin to understand the weariness that wore on him.

“Very well, Almeerhan,” he said. “I cannot begin to understand your life…and your long wait. I will respect your wishes, and I will not argue with you again.” He paused. “But my people cannot leave this planet yet.”

“You must leave. My weapons have destroyed the Regent’s forces in this area, but there are others. They will be rallying even now. They will come…they will come here to destroy me. And I will be waiting for them. I will unleash destruction unimagined upon them, a final cataclysm that will claim them all, and destroy this refuge as well. Your people must be gone when that occurs. Back on your fleet and bound for your destination.”

“That is the problem. Our fleet is not here. It will not return for several of our weeks. We have only a landing party here…and our people are engaged in food production. We must have those additional weeks, or we will only starve en route to wherever you send us.”

“That may not be possible, Hieronymus. I do not know how much of the Regent’s force still remains here after so long. My weapons are also worn by age. I may not be able to sustain the battle for so long. In the end, I have only a final weapon, one that will destroy everything on this planet, leave nothing behind for the Regent to investigate. There are anti-matter bombs deep in the planet’s mantle, located at key spots. When I detonate them they will trigger a seismic calamity, one that will lay waste to the entire surface. Your people must be gone by the time I am compelled to take this last action.”

“We must try to hold out. Even if we were to abandon our food collection effort, we have no way to reach the fleet. We have no choice but to wait for them to return…and to try to hold out until they do.”

“Very well, Hieronymus. I will do all I can, take every action at my disposal. One last struggle, a great battle that shall finally be my last.” The voice paused. “But you must go now, my friend…you cannot remain here. Now that the enemy is aware of my presence it is only a matter of time before they attack in great strength. And my defense will require me to unleash terrible energies…immense destruction. You must be away from the city before this happens. Return to your people and fight at their sides. For you will have to defend yourselves as well.”

“I will go…and my people will be ready, we will do what we must.” Cutter could feel a surge of emotion. He had known this alien presence only for a matter of hours, though now it seemed as if it had been much longer, as though he could barely remember not knowing Earth’s true history. His anger still burned hot at the thought of what had been done to man’s ancestors. But the thought of leaving, of watching this noble ancient slip away, made him pause, wishing with all his heart there was another way.

“Fortune upon you, Hieronymus Cutter, and upon your people. I entrust to you the mantle of civilization, the stewardship of the Imperium. There is a small device next to your cot, a rectangular prism of a silvery metal. Take it, for it has all the information you require. The location you must seek…and much technology, some of which may help you reach your destination. Go now, my child, for that is what you truly are, and know that the strength of those who came before is with you.”

“Farewell, Almeerhan.” Cutter felt the urge to say something more, to come forth with a wise and honorable speech. But there was nothing there, nothing coherent. It took all he had just to speak and think simply, linearly right now. So he settled for a simple goodbye to the enigmatic personality that had radically altered his understanding of the universe in just a few hours.

“Farewell, Hieronymus Cutter.” A short pause. “Now go. Your companions will be waiting for you in the outer hall.” Then the great voice went silent…and Cutter grabbed the small metal box and jogged out into the corridor.

Chapter Twenty

Captain Aki Kato at Battle of X51

I could remind you of the damage these monsters have done to us and to those we know and love. I could recite for you the death toll, the endless casualty lists from our wars with the First Imperium. I could list almost without end the reasons to fight, the justness of our cause, the desperate need for victory. But I am not going to do any of that, for it is not necessary. You all know that. No, all I am going to say now is this. Forward, my comrades, to victory or death. We shall leave this field or they shall…and for fuck’s sake, I say it will be us!

AS Osaka

Battle of X51

The Fleet: 116 ships, 28198 crew

“We’re going straight down its throat, Lieutenant. And I want
Newfoundland
and
Tokugawa
right on our flanks.” Kato was staring straight at the main display, watching the thin wall of orange icons moving toward the Leviathan. Kato’s cruisers were the only non-capital ships in the fleet that had been allotted a share of the precious supply of homemade missiles. He didn’t know if his peoples’ performance in X54 had earned them the allotment…or if guilt over their losses, and the death of Captain Duke, had been the primary motivation. But whatever the reason, Kato intended to get good use of them. And he couldn’t think of anyplace better than here, against the enemy’s biggest and most powerful ship.

The Leviathan was in rough shape. Fujin’s fighters had attacked without regard for risk or danger, and they’d planted their plasma torpedoes deep into the dreadnought’s gut. Her wing had executed their attack run just about perfectly…but there simply hadn’t been enough of them to destroy a ship of such size and power. Kato had been watching their assault, and he’d seen how many ships they had lost…and the resolute courage the survivors had displayed in bringing their attacks home. It couldn’t be for nothing, he’d decided. Such a display of courage demanded support. And he’d ordered his surviving cruisers to form up for their own run.