Divine Palace of the Empire, Irzht Prime
Thomas Bristow
No living Irzht could remember a time when the God Emperor had actively directed the Empire. It was true that all their efforts were bent towards crushing the unworthy and growing the territories. The galactic neighbourhood was vast, and the process was slow and deliberate, but for an immortal it was just something to aim for. With the empire largely managed by artificial intelligences, Thomas Bristow could not remember the last time his guidance was actually needed. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t needed now, but the return of Adrian Saunders had renewed his sense of purpose. In every universe, and every timeline, that man had inevitably been set against Thomas, and apparently this version of reality was delayed rather than different. There was no telling what that bastard had done to Thomas’ Earth-bound doppleganger, but he was far too dangerous to leave be if he was already blasting holes in the space-time continuum.
“Tell me you have news!” he demanded of his council.
For the last few days they’d deployed half the fleet to what he’d known as the Milky Way galaxy, tasked with ferreting out one specific human while remaining unnoticed.
“I fear that results have been disappointing, God Emperor” ventured the counsellor with the yellow hat. “The target galaxy is in a state of incredible turmoil. Most worlds previously catalogued as heavily populated are effectively destroyed, and only minor colonies, bases, and vessels remain operational. There are three items of note.”
Thomas had been building towards another outburst, but that final sentence stayed his hand. “Explain. Now.”
“The first is the last known location of the scout,” said the yellow-hatted counsellor. “There are major distortions in the quantum field consistent with a collapsing wormhole, but on a much larger scale.”
“That is merely what I expected!” said Thomas, growing angry again. He’d gathered extensive experience with moving between timelines, and the described method was unreliable, dangerous, and tended to cause a lot of damage to space at every level. “The other two?”
“The first is a star system surrounded by a powerful energy shield,” the counsellor hurriedly continued. “There is a civilisation present, but deeply primitive. We doubt they were responsible for creating the field, but we have no way of reliably breaching the area without revealing our presence.”
Thomas remained carefully passive. Unless something serious had changed, the world described could only be the Earth, and unlike other places he had no particular desire to destroy it. If anything he would seize control with the ultimate aim of replacing the Irzht, but there was no need to let them know about such plans. He tapped his finger impatiently. “Then they are not a threat. Ignore them for now.”
“As you command, God Emperor,” the counsellor replied, and made a note. “Finally there is an unusual location quite distant from the other two. There is significant damage to the quantum field spread over a great distance, although it seems to be centred on a single star system.”
Now it sounded like they were getting somewhere. “Get to the point, counsellor.”
The counsellor paled. “I regret to admit that we don’t know anything about this system. Our attempts to reach it through wormholes have not been successful. Those who have tried have not returned.”
“Continue research on that space,” Thomas directed. He was certain that there could be nowhere else in the universe for Saunders to be hiding. Exactly how and why the star system was in that condition was a total mystery, but it was inconceivable that anyone else could be responsible. “Do you have any theories?”
“Once again I regret to say that it is still subject to much debate, God Emperor,” the counsellor apologies, prostrating himself in terror. “Some suggest a collapsed wormhole, while others suggest a breach in a Cradle. Either would need to be absolutely catastrophic and it is hard to believe anything could have survived the process.”
“Do not make me repeat my order, Counsellor,” Thomas warned. It would be lucky if it were true, and that Saunders could no longer plague him in this timeline, but Thomas had never counted himself as luckier than Adrian. “Is there anything else?”
“Not at this time, God Emperor,” the blue-hatted counsellor replied. “We will notify you of any further findings, rather than disturbing you for another conversation such as this.”
Thomas turned and strode from the chamber in his full divine glory, making an impression on all who saw him. The Irzht were easily impressed, however, even when the body was of their own manufacture. Natural flesh and blood could not have lasted so long, but the artificial variety was much more durable. Right now he wasn’t thinking of them, but of his old homeworld from long ago. That place would be gone, even if he could somehow get back to it, but he was now presented with another chance.
“A mostly destroyed galaxy, and a patch of impossible space,” he mused as he wandered back to his residence. There was no precedence for either occurring in any other timeline he’d visited. Things had changed, and change brought an opportunity for something new. The Irzht could not be trusted to manage the Earth—they would either destroy it like everywhere else, or set in motion the destruction of the entire empire. This needed the light touch of someone more familiar with the planet and its people, and only one person in the entire empire had those qualifications.
“Ar-too,” he called out as he reached his home, summoning the attention of the in-house artificial intelligence. The name was a reference to a character from a little known Earth movie, though no one else could appreciate it. Gifted with a body like a trashcan, Ar-too rolled out with a series of beeps and whistles before enquiring what was needed. “Yes, glorious God Emperor? How may I be of service?”
“I will provide you with specifications,” Thomas directed. “It will be a body suitable for infiltrating a particular species. You will have it manufactured and delivered to me in secret. You will also organise a vessel for me without drawing any questions.”
“I understand, God Emperor,” said Ar-too, following up with all manner of whistling. “May I know your intentions?”
“You may not,” Thomas replied. Ar-too was completely subservient to him, but there was no need to take any chances. The later Ar-too knew the details, the less likely there would be any means of stopping Thomas from doing as he pleased. He had spent enough time with the Irzht, waiting for the Earth to be found without any hope it would ever happen. Now he would bring his unmatched knowledge and wisdom to bear against his former species, bringing them into the empire carefully. For that, however, he needed to go there in person.
It had been more than a hundred million years, far longer than any human had a right to live, but Thomas Bristow was finally going home.
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HMS Caledonia, Low Orbit of Gao
Jennifer Delaney
“Think of it as going home!” said Captain Rush, still trying to sell Jen on the whole plan. There was no doubt that the matter was being forced, and Jen was well aware of the reasons it was a good idea, but just because it was going to happen didn’t mean she needed to like it.
“It’s just where I come from,” she replied obstinately. “Earth hasn’t been my home in a long time. Besides, I don’t see why you’re still trying to convince me when I’ve already agreed to go along with the idea.”
Rush rolled her eyes. “Because you’re going to be the face of all our efforts out here, so it’s somewhat important that you’re fully on board with the idea. If you don’t think of Earth as your home, fine, but you still need us if you want to make half a dent in this situation.”
It was hard to argue with that kind of logic. The days since she’d come aboard the Caledonia had passed quickly, but had left her feeling lonely for the company of the pragmatic Gaoian and the… unique V’Straki. Those two had been sent to the surface to try and cobble together an antiquated communications network and there was yet to be a triumphant success. The planet-wide lack of power was making things very difficult for everyone involved. The HMS Myrmidon was mere hours away from entering the system, whereupon it would take over operations and allow the Caledonia to return to Cimbrean to be fully resourced. It would then be time for Rush to hand over command to the intended Captain, and to accompany Jen back to Earth through some kind of teleportation device.
“I still don’t understand how we get back to Earth,” she said, smoothly changing the topic. “If the Dominion has these things, why do they even bother travelling through space? You wouldn’t need to worry about pirates, distance, or natural disasters if you could just instantly arrive at the destination.”
“We don’t really understand it either,” Rush admitted. “It’s something we’re looking to adopt as part of our own colonisation efforts. I believe we were considering the purchase of the system shield technology as well, since it would provide ideal protection against an invasion from space, but the Guvvies have gone quiet like everyone else.”
“Guvvies?” Jen repeated with a raised eyebrow.
“Guvnuragnaguvendrugun,” Rush explained, labouring over the pronunciation. “It’s a very long name and who has that kind of time these days?”
“You know that really just proves their concerns about humans being quick and thoughtless?” Jen asked. She had little doubt that the Guvnuragnaguvendrugun would find the shortened version of their name to be highly insulting.
Rush clearly did not care. “They’re not here right now. The closest ones we know of are living in the alien community on Cimbrean.”
“There’s an alien community on Cimbrean?” Jen asked with surprise. The last time she was there it was mostly just a pile of rubble, and the only news she’d heard was the unfortunate biological disaster currently happening there.
“Much of the galaxy wants nothing to do with us,” said Rush, “but that hardly applies to everyone. The current Governor-General has allowed alien immigration on the basis that it would improve relations with the rest of the galaxy. That goal seems rather pointless now, but it still gives us access to insights that would otherwise be unavailable. They are all too eager to give anything they can to our efforts to save the galaxy.”
“So you’re exploiting them?” Jen inferred.
“Yes,” Rush admitted, “while they are attempting to do the same of us. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement. It’s been quite some time since you checked in on everything that’s been happening.”
“I told you I’ve been busy,” Jen said.
“Yes, but none of you have really told me what you’ve been doing,” Rush replied. “The last information we had on you was the acquisition of a small and extremely high-end starship. A vessel that is nowhere to be found.”
“It was less reliable than advertised,” Jen deflected. The situation on Agwar had been disastrous in every conceivable way, and it would do Adrian no good to have human forces skulking around the area. “I said I was busy, not that I’ve been achieving very much.”
There was a gentle buzzing sound, and Rush slipped a device from her pocket. It wasn’t exactly a smartphone, although it had probably started out as one. “Looks like there’s been some progress on the surface. Your friends have managed to switch on the old communications grid in the area around the capital. That should make things a lot easier for the Myrmidon. The Mother-Supreme is said to be elated.”
“And their identities?” Jen pressed.
“Have never been a secret from her,” Rush replied with a smirk. “Not that a lie would have been very effective. That’s not to say she’s revealed it to anybody else, but it’s only a matter of time before they start drawing their own conclusions. Ideally they will be practical enough to overlook past transgressions in the face of more immediate threats.”
“And if they’re not?” Jen asked, deeply worried.
“Then Chir is more than capable of dealing with problems on his own, and he still has support from a literal dinosaur-man,” Rush replied. “Those Gaoians capable of matching them would, I hope, be too cunning to actually try.”
“But it really only takes one shot for a Gaoian,” said Jen.
Rush raised an eyebrow. “Mother-Supreme Yulna sent me a message about everything she could remember of Chir’s time on Gao. It does not paint the picture of someone who is easy to stop, and it’s a little unclear how he ended up as a slave. It’s probably a tale worth hearing, but for the time being I’ll send you a copy of everything I’ve been told.”
“Thanks,” said Jen. She didn’t know whether she wanted to know or not, only that she would inevitably read everything that was given to her. “You haven’t told me much about what’s been happening on Earth, though.”
“That is an incredibly complex briefing you’ll receive before entering the public eye,” said Rush. “A lot of people objected to our presence in the galaxy after they learned about the shield. Others don’t like what’s happening on Cimbrean. Others are just racist against alien life.”
That sounded about right to Jen. No matter what happened, there’d always be some vocal minority opposed to it. The bigger the event, the louder they were. The literal collapse of galactic civilisation was big enough to draw some really loud voices, so it was little wonder her presence was important.
“I understand,” she said, although she knew it was probably just the top of the iceberg. “What about Gao?”
“Now that the capital is secure, we’ll fortify a foothold in the capital,” Rush explained. “The Myrmidon is bringing along a wormhole beacon, so it will be possible to manage the situation more directly. Based on our relationship with Gao, our experience here, and what Chir told us, we believe it must be the staging point for our future efforts. If we can’t succeed here, when our efforts are focused, then we’re unlikely to help anywhere else.”
The conversation progressed to logistical strategies around managing the recovery efforts, and what was next for Gao. There was no doubt that the world had suffered a terrible shock, but the presence of humanity provided them with access to working technology. It was these devices that gave them hope to restore power and basic supplies, while true recovery would be a much longer process. Things were not as bad here as they’d been on Gamlis or the Vzk’tk colony, and opening up communications with surviving outpost worlds and mining bases would turn Gao and Cimbrean into the new hubs of galactic civilisation. Governor-General Sandy was already preparing for this eventuality.
“And it appears the Myrmidon has entered the system,” said Rush, ending their discussion. “I’ve been talking with their Captain, but will give my final debriefing before we depart. It will take a couple hours at most, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Jen nodded. “I may as well catch up on some much needed rest, then. God knows I think I’m going to need it.”
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Vzk’tk Colony World
Darragh
Everything was going to be fine. This was what Darragh was telling himself, and in the immediate sense he was actually believing it. The colonists had suffered a terrible ordeal, and many had reverted to frenzied looting and savagery in the face of total societal collapse. Those people had been cast from the village, however, leaving only those who’d managed to survive while retaining their dignity. It was a disappointingly small number in comparison with the original population, but they still made a serviceable community.
“I hear humans eat meat,” said their leader as the drinks were served. She was a Vzk’tk, and that sort of thing usually struck a nerve, though she didn’t seem as bothered as he’d expected. “I’m afraid we have none to offer.”
Darragh politely took what he was given. “It’s fine,” he reassured her, “it’s more that we can eat just about anything, and I’m pretty used to sticking with plants these days.”
“I’m sure the members of our community will be glad to hear that,” she replied, taking her drink. She’d been introduced as Lshnnkn, which Darragh was able to pronounce after having been corrected a mere four times. “I’m disappointed that the first response was not more substantial, but I am not surprised. A distant colony world such as our own cannot be considered a major investment.”
“Sorry to tell you this,” said Darragh, “but we haven’t been sent by anyone. We came straight here from Gamlis, where the situation is even worse. We hadn’t expected to find this place in such a bad way.”
“Gamlis is worse?” Lshnnkn repeated in shock. “Exactly how far does this problem extend?”
“We don’t know,” he replied, and did not venture any of their theories. There was no need to alarm everyone in the event things weren’t quite that bad. “My crew and I thought you might want a bit of help. I don’t know about rebuilding cities, but there’s a bunch of ships in orbit we can get working again, and having working ships is a good place to start.”
Lshnnkn digested the explanation for several moments, draining her entire drink in the meantime. “It could work. At the very least we should be able to use them for basic amenities, for power, and for protection against the exiles.”
That didn’t mesh with Darragh’s earlier understanding. “I thought they were dead?”
“That would have resolved the problem,” said Lshnnkn, “but unfortunately there are those who’ve not only survived but have banded together. They ambush our scavenger groups, and steal our supplies. Of course, if you wanted to go hunt them down, I could be persuaded to help.”
She was making a lot of assumptions because he was a human. She wasn’t necessarily wrong about his ability to do it, but he wasn’t some bloodthirsty creature wanting to run off and kill all the enemies. “I’m really just here to get you the tools you’ll need to survive. If you want to get rid of those guys, you’ll have to handle that on your own.”
She seemed disappointed, but was quick to hide it. They were already being offered an enormous amount of help, and a leader wouldn’t be rude enough to risk that by making demands. “Then we thank you for what you are willing to provide. Is there anything we may do to help?”
Darragh considered this briefly. It wasn’t a matter of what they could give in return, since there wasn’t much left. “If you’ve got a doctor, my crew could use a check-up after Gamlis. If you’ve got people who can pilot a ship, they could help out by bringing the ships down here. Apart from that you just need to treat this place like you’re the only survivors in the whole galaxy.”
“No pressure then,” Lshnnkn replied with a sigh. “I think we can help with a couple pilots, but our doctors can barely function without their facilities. They’re going to need a lot more help before they can do that for you. Darragh, get back to the ship.”
He blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Lshnnkn seemed confused. “They can hardly provide medical treatment—they’re lying, get back to the ship—without their tools.”
“Right,” said Darragh, nodding warily. It had taken him a moment because there had been no break in the translation, but the only way this made sense was if the data tablet was being interfered with. It had to be Askit. “Sorry, but why?”
“If you were Vzk’tk it would be different,” Lshnnkn patiently explained, “but—they’re trying to get into the ship—they won’t be familiar with your anatomy. They wouldn’t be able to tell you much.”
“Well, that’s fair enough,” Darragh said, rising to his feet. “We can talk about it more once I’ve had some rest.”
He watched her face carefully, and he didn’t have to wait for the mask to slip. Darragh had spent a lot of time working on the docks, and the Vzk’tk were a common species in the area. Reading their expressions became second-nature, and gave him an added advantage over Lshnnkn. He saw the fear cross her face, then vanish in a flash.
“I was thinking you might prefer to sleep in the village,” she quickly suggested. “Shipboard air can be terribly stale.”
He shrugged, using the movement to take in his surroundings. Lshnnkn had two attendants, both of whom were also Vzk’tk, and they were keeping an eye on him. “It’s what I’m used to.”
The façade dropped, and Lshnnkn glared at him. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave with that ship. You humans might be strong, but there’s no way you can get through my people.”
“Ah,” Darragh sighed, “that’s not good.”
He could already feel the sense of panic setting in. He was under threat, and so were Askit and Keffa, and ancient instincts fuelled his body with what it needed to survive.
“He’s doing something!” one of the attendants cried out, and drew a blade from a pouch. “Stop him!”
Once upon a time, Darragh might have frozen before a serious attacker, but that version of him had vanished shortly after his arrival on Cimbrean. The blade came at him, but the Vzk’tk was slow and uncoordinated, even though Darragh had never been taught how to fight. He grabbed his attacker by the wrist, stopping their advance while crushing their wrist. It seemed natural to try to pull the hand away from him in the same motion, and technically it worked perfectly.
“My arm!” the attendant screamed as the limb was torn free, and Darragh immediately dropped it with an apology.
There was a lull as everyone stared at each other.
Lshnnkn was the one to end it with a scream. “Guards!”
There would only be a moment for Darragh to react, and he did so by bursting out the door and shattering the front two legs of the guard attempting to enter. The Vzk’tk guard, being a quadruped, barely had time to screech in pain as he toppled over. The entire village now had some notion of what was going on.
“This is really not going to help Humanity’s reputation,” Darragh said between breaths. “How’s the ship?”
“They were trying to break in with force,” Askit explained via the tablet. “We’ve got a hull breach, though it won’t stop us getting to a more intact vessel.”
“We just got this one!” Darragh replied as he reached the gate of the village. They’d closed it, sealing him inside, and it was tall enough to function for Vzk’tk. No human would have any chance of seeing over it.
It was only light enough to be moved when Vzk’tk worked as a team, so the survivors seemed almost smug as they approached him with weapons drawn. It was beyond unexpected when Darragh took hold of the gate, grunted, and lifted it from its tracks. They were all too stunned to avoid it when it was hurled directly at them, knocking several down in the process.
“I told you not to name it,” Askit noted, as though nothing unusual had just happened.
“Did you see what I just did?” Darragh demanded as he closed the distance to the ship. “You’re not going to say anything about that?”
“Isn’t that normal for a human?” Askit asked, sounding puzzled. He clearly based his expectations entirely on his time with Adrian Saunders.
“No! It is not normal!” Darragh cried back. “None of this is normal! Where were they trying to break in?”
“Cargo bay,” said Askit. “I believe they defecated and ran away when you did that thing with the gate.”
“I’m sure the hole won’t be that big,” Darragh said as he entered the ship. “We’ll patch it up, and it’ll be good as new. We are not going through ships like Vzk’tk go through leaves! How’s Keffa?”
“Still asleep as far as I’m aware,” said Askit. “You really weren’t in there for very long.”
“Good,” said Darragh as he reached the command deck. “Then let’s get the feck out of here. Maybe we can find some people who actually deserve our help. The Ark, for example.”
The ship began to move as Askit entered the commands. “I’m no navigator or pilot, but I can probably get us on our way.”
“Take care of it,” said Darragh. “I’m going back to bed.
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The Dastasji, Agwar System
Adrian Saunders
The fabricators had been working non-stop since the plan had been put in motion, and the stasis pods were already being deployed to the flight deck. They had been regarded with fear in the beginning, which was understandable, but a demonstration by Aladyn and Dalon had allayed any suspicions that these were just fancy kill-rooms. When a stasis chamber was switched on it would be put into immediate use, and every group frozen would stretch the food a little bit further.
“Things are looking good,” Laphor said as she joined Adrian on the flight deck. “Pretty soon we’ll be done building these, then we can focus on the plans for food.”
He looked down at her. “Any progress on those?”
“Not really, most of the fabricator time is tied up building those things,” she said. “Much as we’d expected. I have had some prototypes built, so we’re getting a handle on what we’re dealing with, but we won’t be getting any further until the stasis chambers are all built.”
That meant things were running slightly ahead of schedule. “In the worst case scenario we’ll need to put ourselves in stasis,” said Adrian, “while the first crop grows. I think we’re going to be alright.”
It was a nice change to have things under control. Their lives weren’t in immediate danger since nobody was trying to kill them, and the damaged quantum field that kept them in was also serving to keep everyone else out. There was really only one concern in all of that.
“What about these anomalies we’ve been detecting?” Adrian asked. “Has anyone managed to explain what’s going on?”
Minor ruptures in space had been opening with alarming frequency lately, much like very small wormholes. Instead of spewing vessels, however, they were spilling out enormous nuclear explosions. Further details had not been forthcoming.
“Artiz thinks it might be related to quantum instability,” Laphor relayed. “He thinks the previous wormhole event is having unforeseen effects on surrounding space. There’s no telling where these things come from and, since we’ve already proven that time isn’t a factor, we also don’t know when.”
“You don’t sound like you agree,” Adrian observed.
She shook her head. “I’m much less optimistic. I think I’ve heard your human saying: hope for the best, but plan for the worst?”
Adrian nodded. It was the best advice possible when every moment was spent waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If we’re talking about enemies, the list of those who can use wormholes is really short.”
“More of those artificial intelligence things?” Laphor asked. Having spent so many nights huddled together with the crew in their temporary abode, Adrian had recounted his adventures with only minor embellishments. Laphor and her crew knew what had happened in the Hravin system, and why the artificial intelligence was so obsessed with Adrian. They’d had to destroy a planet to get rid of the thing, and did not relish the idea of meeting more.
“Probably,” Adrian replied with a grimace. If they were going to this much effort to get to him it wasn’t because they wanted to be friends. “On the other hand it might be more V’Straki, which could be equally exciting.”
His tone assured her that he did not actually want that to happen either. He was rather enjoying the quiet times and had no desire for them to be interrupted by a sudden space battle. Retirement sounded good after all this, but finding a place where he could actually disappear to would be a challenge—he couldn’t simply go back to Earth while his very presence attracted large numbers of psychotic villains. The only time that had changed was when everyone thought he was dead.
“It could be someone else entirely!” Laphor suggested, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe someone who just wanted to find out why the quantum field was so messed up around here?”
Adrian chuckled. “So they wouldn’t be an enemy at all?”
“Well… not originally,” Laphor conceded. “That might have changed after losing so many ships.”
“Yeah, I think we’ll just stick with what we know,” said Adrian, “and make preparations based on that. Maybe they won’t be able to get a working wormhole, but I don’t think we should base our plans on wishful thinking.”
Laphor nodded along in agreement. “You sound like you’ve already got a plan?”
“Yeah, but it might suck,” Adrian admitted. “I’ve had the collectors going out to grab every scrap of ore they can. We should have enough to start building some weapons platforms once we’re done with the farms.”
“Shouldn’t we do the farms first?” Laphor asked, then thought better of her suggestion. “Ah… not much point in defending ourselves if we all starve to death, is there?”
“We’re relying on the quantum field remaining unstable,” said Adrian, “so it’s not ideal. If they manage to break through before we get set up, we’re probably totally screwed.”
“But you needed to destroy a whole planet to stop the last one… twice!” Laphor reminded him.
“Yeah, but this time we have a better idea of what we’re up against,” said Adrian. “And hopefully they don’t know shit about what we’ll be packing. I’m talking about huge fuck-off zheron cannons, and those things that can blow up annihilator reactors—or Cradles, as Artiz calls them. He seemed pretty excited by the idea of remote weapons platforms. I think he actually cackled.”
“The V’Straki didn’t have such things?” Laphor asked, then realised that the Dominion didn’t really have them either. It seemed like an incredibly obvious device, now that it was mentioned, yet it had never been developed. The closest equivalent would be starbase weapons pods being controlled from the central command deck.
Adrian watched her face as she worked this out and smiled. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, the Hierarchy has probably stopped a lot of development. The V’Straki are a predator species, and are used to coordinating aggressive assaults to get what they want. It’s always been an ‘honour and glory’ thing for them, and they’ve never trusted computers very much, so it was never likely for them to pick up the idea.”
“Both the Dominion and the Celzi Alliance recruit soldiers based on honour and glory,” Laphor reflected. “That was something I fell for, back when I was naïve. What do humans think?”
“We talk a lot about it,” said Adrian as he cynically considered his time in the armed forces. “Some people believe in it more than others. I think it’s something the victors get to add to their stories.”
“That explains your tactics,” Laphor observed.
“Never fight unless you have to,” said Adrian. “And cheat like a motherfucker when you do.”
“That’s better advice than my first trainer gave me,” Laphor replied, and acted out using a kinetic gun. “Point this end towards the enemy and shoot.”
Adrian laughed. “It’s bad to get that part wrong!”
“It would have been much more useful to know how to ‘soften the target’, as you say, without needing to throw away countless lives,” she replied more seriously. “Then again, maybe it would have been even worse if everyone was fighting that way.”
“Worse? Yeah, probably,” Adrian agreed. “Shorter? Absolutely. Parts of Earth have started to join the fight, so you can expect it to get a lot nastier before it ends, and who knows what’ll be left when it’s over? My advice is to stay the fuck out of it.”
“That’s some interesting advice coming from you of all people,” she countered.
Adrian cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was well aware he’d never successfully kept out of other peoples’ business. “Think of it as the voice of experience?”
“I’ll try to remember that!” she said with a laugh.
Adrian smiled, and turned back to watch the steady progress of construction. They were all safe for now, he reminded himself, but that could change at any time. It was better to assume he was being hunted, that they were all in danger, and to take steps to deal with it. They needed something fast, deadly, and damned near undetectable.
“Laphor,” he said without turning towards her, “did I ever tell you what a minefield is?”
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