Empire of Light

Chapter Thirty

They had to abandon a number of the field-generators after they proved to be broken on closer inspection, their outer shells cracked and brittle. But at least fifty appeared to be undamaged.

After a couple of hours' work, the last of these were secured on top of some of the spiders, and sent back over the hills to Trader's yacht. Dakota took one last look around the interior of the dome, wondering what it must have been like in those last hours before the colony was obliterated, and if the creatures who had built it had realized what was coming. Then she stepped back outside to join Trader and Nancy, who were waiting for her amongst the ruins.

Dakota watched as the machinery-laden spiders followed one another up the slope of the nearest hill. Maybe it's time to activate those drones I detected, see if they wake up.

Trader's manipulators wriggled underneath his belly. ‹As you wish.›

The Meridian drones had either burned or dug their way deep beneath the surface long ago. As the three of them now started moving towards the foot of the nearest hill, Dakota sent out a command-level activation signal that she hoped would override whatever instructions the drones had been left with.

Less than a minute passed before she was rewarded with a faint tremor that rippled the dust beneath her feet. Dakota stopped and turned in time to see rock and gravel fountaining upwards from all around the cache-mouth, as drone after drone punched its way back out of its hiding place. They rose quickly, spinning and glittering in the harsh sunlight, with debris sliding off of their mirrored carapaces as they accelerated away from the surface.

‹Shit!› Nancy exclaimed, her voice full of terror. ‹What the fuck is that?›

Dakota realized she had forgotten to warn Nancy what she was intending to do.

Sorry, I should have warned you. Those are the drones I detected on our way here. I've ordered them to head for the frigate, but they had to dig their way out of the ground first.

‹How fucking stupid can you be?› Nancy raged. ‹I thought we were under attack!›

Hey, I said I was sorry.

‹From now on, you even think about doing something, you clear it with me first. Do you hear me?›

Yes, Nancy, I hear you.

Dakota did her best to ignore the flash of resentment she felt at Nancy's tone, as she headed for the nearest slope. The spiders had already scaled the summit and were well on their way back to Trader's yacht.

Trader himself kept abreast of her as she ascended the hill, Nancy not so far behind them this time. Dakota glanced back and saw that debris was still slowly raining down on the ancient ruins. The drones were by now out of sight.

Dakota turned away and pinged the drones, finding they were functioning at peak capacity, and all accelerating hard towards the frigate. She fired a warning to Lamoureaux to make sure the others understood they were not being attacked.

‹All right, for what it's worth, that was some pretty spectacular shit,› Nancy sent, her tone almost bordering on respect.

Just doing my job, Dakota sent. Once we've got these field-generators back on board, I want to take the ship down inside the cache. We should take a good look at it while we've got the chance. Do you have any objections to that?

‹None. That was the plan anyway, wasn't it? And, by the way… those explosions around the cache. That was the drones?›

Yes, why?

‹So what's causing that glow coming from inside the cache?›

Dakota stopped to look back at Nancy, who was standing just a little further downhill, with one foot up on a boulder. Beyond her, the interior of the cache had indeed become brighter, emitting light that flickered as if derived from a hundred different sources, each one moving constantly in relation to the rest. It was as if a horde of giant fireflies was flying up the mouth of the cache from somewhere deep inside.

Dakota loped up to the crest of the hill with long, striding bounds to look back down at the cache from a slightly higher vantage point. When she looked again, the light had grown brighter, becoming noticeably more so even as she watched. Another tremor rolled through the ground beneath her feet. She glanced over at Trader, who had also turned to look back, and she felt an unpleasant churning sensation inside her chest.

Trader, what the hell is that light?

‹I have no idea. Query the drones, see if they have an explanation.›

Dakota felt a chill. Those probes you said you'd lost, is it possible they ran into something down there?

‹It is not outside the bounds of conjecture. I sent another probe down, but lost contact with it a short while ago

The sense that something very bad was about to happen overwhelmed Dakota, and she turned to look the other way, to where she could just see the uppermost spines of Trader's yacht poking up above the crest of a hill about a kilometre distant. She also spotted the train of spiders, still making their way back, in an undulating file, across the intervening hills and valleys.

She queried the recovered Meridian drones, hoping that they might be able to tell her what was going on. It took a few attempts to navigate her way to some kind of answer, and her eyes opened wide in horror when she got it.

We have to get out of here, she sent to the others. We have to get out right now.

She started running down the other side of the hill, desperate to get away from the cache, her legs moving with what felt like dreamlike slowness. She ordered the drones to reverse their trajectory and to return to the vicinity of the cache, but they had already lost precious seconds.

‹Dakota?› asked Trader. ‹Please explain.›

There are hundreds of unmanned Emissary scouts inside the cache, Trader, and we just woke them up.

Trader started heading back towards his yacht without further hesitation. ‹Then we must bring the drones back here to defend us.›

I already called them back, but I don't know if they can get here in time.

Dakota stumbled once, picked herself up and kept going. She could hear from Nancy's panicky breathing that she had finally taken the hint and started running as well.

On reaching the crest of the final hill before they arrived at the yacht, Dakota paused to glance behind her. She saw Nancy approaching the foot of the same hill, but Trader had already overtaken them both. She turned back towards the yacht in time to see him slip through the open hatch, and for one terrible moment she wondered if he meant to abandon them.

By now the spiders had neatly stacked the field-generators beneath the open hatch, in which two of them stood waiting as their brethren began passing the generators up to them with their instantly extendible arms.

As she reached the yacht, she swiftly climbed up on top of one of the spiders and pulled herself through the hatch. The two spiders already inside scuttled back into the yacht's interior to get out of her way. Once inside, she accidentally crashed into a pile of field-generators, and just managed to stop them toppling back out of the hatch. At that moment, she spotted Nancy making her way down the final slope, kicking up a huge cloud of dust that must surely have been visible for kilometres around.

A torrent of dark shapes shot upwards from the location of the cache, moving with such colossal velocity that Dakota barely had time to register their passage. Part of her attention was now focused on the approach of the Meridian drones, as she caught an equally brief glimpse of them vectoring in towards the Emissary scouts.

Around the yacht, the ground began to quiver yet again, sending up thick, choking clouds of dust that soon obscured the summits of the nearby hills.

Nancy stumbled and flailed about, and Dakota heard her yelling over the shared comms.

‹Did you see that? What's happening now?›

It's the Emissary scouts, Dakota replied. Get back here as fast as you can.

Nancy picked herself up hurriedly, staggering past a shoulder-high boulder. She was almost at the yacht.

‹I fucking told you something wasn't right!› she yelled over the comms.

You were right. We should have checked things out more thoroughly.

‹Next time, try listening to me. There's a reason they made me head of fucking security.›

Incandescent light suddenly blazed from the direction of the cache, as a beam of focused energy struck the crest of a distant hill, which erupted in a terrifying display of violence. At that same moment, something dark and oblong flew close above them, followed by a wave of intense heat that briefly overwhelmed Dakota's filters.

Nancy?

‹I need some help here.›

Dakota dropped from the hatch to the ground, and darted over to where the other woman had collapsed. Gravel pattered down all around them, falling slowly in the low gravity. The dust was so thick it made it nearly impossible to see more than a couple of metres in any direction. Dakota finally stumbled across her where she was crouching on her hands and knees, her breathing sounding ragged over the comms link.

Dakota hooked one arm around the woman's shoulder and pulled her upright, hearing her moan in pain. Together they managed to stumble back to the yacht, where Nancy almost collapsed again once Dakota let go of her.

C'mon Nancy, need to get you inside.

She hoisted Nancy on top of one of the spiders, then climbed on behind to get a secure hold of her under both arms.

Grab hold of the lip of the hatch, and then I can help heave you up.

‹I don't feel so good.›

Just get inside so I can take a look at you.

With a groan, Nancy reached out with both hands and grabbed the rim of the hatch. She started to pull herself up, as Dakota pushed her by grabbing her hips. Fortunately, the low gravity made things a lot easier, but Dakota still had to command one of the spiders already inside the hatch to grab hold of Nancy and help her up.

Dakota pulled herself in next, feeling the subtle transition from low to zero gee as she entered the ship.

We're all on board. Let's get out of here, Trader.

The Shoal-member didn't reply, but the hatch spiralled shut behind them, sealing out the dust. Dakota pulled the other woman's helmet off and found Nancy had passed out. Her skin was looking horribly red and blistered.

Finally Dakota answered a priority signal from the Mjollnir, that had been hovering at the back of her attention for the past minute or so.

‹Dakota!› Lamoureaux yelled when she opened the link. ‹We saw what looked like some kind of fight going on from out here. What the hell's happening?›

There were Emissary scouts hiding in the cache, and they just got loose. We're back on board Trader's ship with the field-generators, but Nancy's been hurt.

She opened up a visual link to let Lamoureaux see what she herself was seeing. She could sense his horror when he saw just how bad a state Schiller was in.

A lot of this is radiation damage, Dakota sent. If you haven't already, you need to get Mjollnir prepped for an emergency jump. I don't know just how well the Meridian drones are going to hold up against a couple of hundred Emissary scouts, but if those scouts reach the frigate, we're in serious shit.

‹Okay. Just get back here as fast as you can. I'm picking you up on the external arrays, and it looks like you're just clearing orbit.›

Dakota glanced around the crowded chamber, where everything seemed perfectly still and silent. There wasn't the slightest clue to suggest the ship had so much as moved. Spotting her wadded-up jumpsuit, she started to pull it on, while letting the filmsuit drain itself back inside her body.

Then, for the first time, the ship rocked gently around her, sending fresh beads of moisture caroming through the air.

Trader?

‹An unfortunate encounter with some Emissary scouts following us. Might I ask that you set some of the Meridian drones to defend us?›

Dakota closed her eyes and locked into the drones, immediately finding herself submerged in a chaotic whirl of data. The drones had reverted to their original programming, and were now fighting to push the Emissary scouts back down inside the cache.

She felt one of the Meridian drones die; they were a superior technology, but the Emissary scouts had the advantage of sheer numbers.

Dakota concentrated on protecting the yacht, keeping her eyes tightly closed and letting her limbs float out around her, her fingers jerking spasmodically as she directed her side of the battle raging outside. Trader's yacht looked tiny and fragile compared with the bristling black mass of the pursuing scouts. Yet more of the Emissary scouts were pouring out from the mouth of the cache, their skins flickering with multiple bright energies as they repelled tightly focused bursts of energy directed towards them. The hulls of the machines on both sides of the battle crackled as their outer layers were burned off, while the complex nanomolecular circuitry within attempted to repair the constant damage.

‹We're just about prepped for a short-range jump,› Lamoureaux sent to her. ‹Have you checked the monitors on Nancy's suit?›

Dakota swore silently to herself for not having thought of that already. She opened her eyes and quickly activated the data screen printed on the sleeve of the other woman's spacesuit.

It says she's absorbed more than fifty grey of radiation, Dakota sent in reply. She was far from sure whether even the wonders of modern medical technology could combat such a huge dose of ionizing radiation.

Nancy coughed, and Dakota studied the other woman's face. Her lips moved soundlessly, and her eyes had rolled halfway up into her head.

‹Okay, that's really not good,› Lamoureaux remarked.

Understatement of the fucking century.

‹Look, all we can do now is stick her in a medbox and hope for the best.›

I should have listened to her, Dakota sent. She had a better idea of the situation, and I didn't pay attention. I should have checked things out more thoroughly, instead of going barging into a situation I didn't understand.

‹Don't beat yourself up too much, Dakota. She wasn't exactly going out of her way to win your trust and respect.›

The yacht shook again. Trader, how much damage are we taking?

‹A considerable amount, I regret to say. I believe there might originally have been only a few scouts inside the cache, who would have used any available resources to build copies of themselves.›

How do you know?

‹The tactic is familiar. A few enter a defended territory, multiply rapidly, then attack from within.›

And knowing this helps us how?

‹The ones with antimatter cores are identifiable by the magnetic fields they use for containment. Those are suicide devices. The ones without antimatter cores control the rest.›

So if we can destroy the ones doing the controlling, we can stop the rest.

‹Precisely›

Dakota slowed her time frame until the seconds stretched out. She ran an analysis of the course of the battle so far, and noticed how just a dozen scouts kept themselves close to the cache, while all the rest pushed the attack aggressively. She watched as one of them dived towards a Meridian drone, detonating at the point of closest proximity, overwhelming the drone's wrapping of protective fields and annihilating the machinery within in an enormous blast of heat and radiation.

It was time, she decided, to stop running and go on the offensive.

As she drove the drones straight at the cache, several were annihilated instantly, but instead of breaking away again, as they had been programmed to do, she kept the rest driving relentlessly towards the cache and the cluster of controlling scouts sheltering there.

‹Dakota, It's Ted. We've come up with an idea.›

I hope it's good.

‹There's a couple of scouts heading towards us. We might be able to take them out with the pulse-cannons, once they get within range, but we can't risk letting them gather intel on the frigate and then maybe sending advance warning to the Emissaries that we're in the vicinity.›

You're assuming they haven't done that already?

‹Yeah, well, we still need to cut any potential losses. So here's what we're going to do: we'll jump now, and rendezvous with you at the following co-ords. Pass them on to Trader, and we'll meet you there later.›

We could wind up separated from each other by a long way, Ted. Maybe even by a couple of light-years.

‹Not if we make it just a small jump, like you did back at Redstone. That reduces the chances of wide separation. There's a binary system about twelve light-years from here that might be a good recognizable target.›

A moment later an image of the binary system materialized in Dakota's mind.

‹It's got about six satellites, so we'll aim for the fifth one out. Neither of us is going to hit the exact spot, but with luck we'll be in close enough range of each other to make a relatively fast rendezvous.›

What about Nancy? She needs emergency treatment, Ted – as in right now.

‹The consensus is we're taking too big a risk if we let those scouts get any closer. We're going to initiate that jump immediately.›

Consensus? You mean Corso and Martinez, don't you?

Lamoureaux didn't reply, but she could sense his tension and concern as if it were her own. Dakota pulled back into the real world, and she looked down again at Nancy. Her skin had reddened even more, and her lips trembled faintly.

Perhaps it was better she wasn't aware of what was happening. Dakota described the new plan to Trader. By now more than half the drones recovered from around the mouth of the cache had been destroyed.

‹Are any of the remaining drones recoverable?›

I don't think so, she replied. I could pull them back towards us, but all that'll do is draw the scouts straight to us.

‹Then we must abandon them.›

We have what we came for anyway. How long before we can jump?

‹Immediately.›

The frigate was already gone: it had slipped into superluminal space only seconds after she had spoken to Lamoureaux.

She switched her attention back to the cache. The scouts had rallied, throwing the last of their antimatter-equipped clones at the remaining Meridian drones with devastating effect.

Dakota opened her eyes and again checked on Nancy, thinking that, if she was lucky, she might live long enough to appreciate the irony of trying to save the life of a woman who'd like nothing better than to see her dead.

Time to go, Trader.

‹Initiating.›

The stars spun around the yacht and then, for one brief instant, vanished.

'That's it,' said Lamoureaux, leaning forward in the interface chair as he reached back both hands to massage his neck muscles. 'Twelve light-years, and just half an AU off-target.'

Corso nodded, looking up at the simulation of the system they had landed in as it floated beneath the ceiling. Each of the simulation's planets became gradually more detailed as additional data arrived from the hull's sensor arrays.

Martinez stepped away from the console he had been manning and slumped next to Perez on one of the couches. 'I guess all we can do now is wait and see if they make it, too.'

The next several minutes slid by at a glacial pace. Corso glanced around the bridge, at displays of intercepted tach-net feeds originating from the Perseus Arm: most of it indecipherable gibberish.

Thirteen minutes after they had jumped, an alert sounded.

'They made it,' Lamoureaux exclaimed, his gaze fixed on some faraway point. 'I'm picking them up now.'

Martinez clapped his hands a couple of times, and Corso found himself grinning as the tension suddenly lifted away.

'They're a couple of light-minutes away,' Lamoureaux added. 'That means a couple of hours before we can rendezvous.'

'Is the med-bay prepped for Nancy?' asked Martinez.

Corso didn't miss Lamoureaux's hesitation when he answered. 'I've unlocked the seals and reactivated the medboxes.'

Martinez merely nodded, as if satisfied with this answer, yet Corso knew they were all maintaining a fiction: there was likely very little they could do for Nancy Schiller. Even if by some miracle she was still alive by the time Trader's yacht docked with the frigate, it would almost certainly be far too late to save her. Lamoureaux stepped down from the interface chair and approached Corso. 'Have you had any more thoughts about what we found back by the reactors?' he asked him quietly.

Corso glanced towards Perez and Martinez, but they had stepped over to a console on the far side of the bridge, and were deep in a discussion over astrogational data.

'I think we're going to have to let Dakota see it,' he replied. 'If we're right about Whitecloud, she should be the first to know.'

'You realize that means telling her who he really is?'

'Yes… yes, I suppose I do,' Corso replied. 'Not that I'm looking forward to it.'

'Rather you than me,' Lamoureaux said softly. 'Rather you than me, any day of any year.'