Remission Praxis

Prologue

The final chapter of Redemption Protocol. Skip it.

Prologue

Havoc slashed down with his filament blade. He sliced through an interior wall and ducked into a service corridor. He fired a salvo of micromissiles as he jetted alongside a composite strut then jinked left. His micromissiles tracked to target before suddenly veering off course, subverted by Forge’s countermeasures.

Havoc slowed. There wasn’t much ship left. It was his time. He could feel the tempo slowing as he closed in for the kill.

He burst through another wall as Forge dropped back. Four ship sections left. He picked up a hazy image of Forge. Forge didn’t have enough microdrones left to blind his sensor network.

We’re both going down here, Son.

You are.

Forge raised the Scepter above his head.

And you, Son. They want this. I think your girlfriend tricked me.

The gaping maw of the Diss loomed over them. The Diss scintillated furiously as a trillion motes wrapped around their fragment of the ORC vessel.

I’ll kill you, Forge. It’s enough. I don’t care after that.

I thrive on your hate, Son. I thrived on hate my whole life.

Why are you never fucking sorry?

Because God gave me a plan and I’m following it. The only bad part is I hadn’t finished.

You’ll meet your God soon enough.

Your hate sustains me, Son. It’s food for my soul, to feel your pain.

Havoc focused his electronic warfare package on Forge, disrupting Forge’s systems as he advanced toward him. He wanted to see the look in the bastard’s eyes when he killed him. He didn’t care if he was letting emotion get in the way.

Two sections left. The ship fragment spun through space. The view beyond Forge was filled by the pulsating cloud. He kept an eye on the Diss. It was going to be close. Forge pointed at the cloud.

They’re coming, Son.

They won’t get you.

Forge laughed as he backed away.

That would be the ultimate failure for you, wouldn’t it, Son? If I die and it wasn’t you that killed me.

~    ~    ~

Havoc floated with his back against a bulkhead. One ship section left and they were both on it. Forge stood at the far end. His last stand.

This was it.

Destiny, then oblivion.

> Havoc?

He couldn’t believe it.

> Weaver?

> You need to escape right now, Havoc. I targeted the Diss on the Scepter.

> I’m not coming, Weaver.

> This hate leads nowhere.

> This hate is who I am, Weaver. It’s all I am.

> Have the courage to live, Havoc. Anyone can die.

> I have to do this.

> It’s your choice.

> It’s not a choice, for me.

> The Diss will kill you.

> I want him dead, Weaver!

> You think you’ll be free of him just because he’s dead?

Havoc stopped. His face screwed up in pain.

Where are you, Son?

> It’s him or me, Havoc. You can’t have both.

Havoc looked through the shattered beams of the ship. Forge raised the Scepter, taunting him onward.

I’m here, Havoc!

> Your future or your past, Havoc.

The incandescent Diss seethed overhead, throwing shadows like black paint across the broken hull.

> You have to choose.

~    ~    ~

Forge fired at him. The kinetic struck the hull next to him, sparking and bouncing away. Havoc barely registered the shot. He was lost in time.

He was lost.

Forge stood at the end of the burned out hull, his face consumed with hate. Havoc stared at Forge. He still hadn’t moved.

Forge sensed the change. He stopped as well.

They regarded each other.

Come on, Havoc, finish it. What’s wrong with you?

He didn’t know where it came from.

I forgive you.

Forge stopped, confused.

What?

Havoc stepped backward off the broken piece of hull.

I forgive you, Forge.

Forge fired kinetics in a spread over his head, trying to provoke him.

"Forgive me nothing, Havoc. I meant it all."

The Diss swarmed closer, furious and blinding. They were both going to be consumed.

Havoc felt the tension in his body release. His body relaxed as he drifted. He took his first proper breath in eleven years.

Forge’s face contorted with wrath.

You don’t have the right to forgive me!

For the first time in eleven years, Havoc felt truly weightless.

Take the fucking shot! Forge screamed.

He felt free.

~    ~    ~

> Thank you.

> You can thank me later.

> Nice try, Weaver. I’m not getting out of this one.

> You don’t escape me that easily, Soldier.

He felt a tug pull him backward.

> What the hell…?

> Don’t worry. I’ve got you.

Recantation

Denial

Darkness

Descent

Defiance

Despair

Denial

 1.

Havoc accelerated backward, twisted at a slight angle relative to the shimmering cloud of Diss that dominated his horizon.

He couldn’t believe it. He might actually survive this.

Below him, Forge stood defiant on the flickering remnants of the ORC vessel, the glittering Scepter raised high in his right hand. Forge was engulfed by the swirling Diss like a king surrounded by a million soldiers, each holding their polished shield aloft in brilliant sunshine. The brightness of the Diss cloud was blinding. The alien nebula seethed and curled inward as if coiling up for the final strike.

Havoc spun slowly counter-clockwise. He felt like a reversing clock hand, each revolution unwinding the burden that Forge had laid upon him.

He breathed out.

It was over.

Forge was going to die.

 2.

Beyond Havoc, Jötunn’s colossal furnace of roiling, superheated plasma reigned over the binary system.

Within the luminous blue hypergiant, convective processes circulated unfathomable volumes of positively charged gases as the star rotated on its axis, generating a powerful magnetic field. Magnetic flux ropes wrapped the star, swaying together and apart as they both shaped and mirrored the flow of the oceans of plasma beneath them.

For four days, the magnetic flux ropes over Jötunn’s northern region had wound tighter and tighter. The flux ropes strained like overwound clock springs, hovering on the brink of explosive release as the cosmic rack continued to crank ever harder. The process was as unsustainable as its conclusion was inevitable: a brutal rearrangement of the star’s magnetic topology.

Hell was about to break loose, and on a cosmic scale.

 3.

Havoc frowned as the Diss crowded around Forge’s shattered hull fragment. The encroaching Diss cloud tumbled furiously as it extended around Forge, but the foaming nebula didn’t crash together and eliminate the last remnants of the ORC ship as he’d expected.

It was almost as if the Diss were hesitating, Havoc thought. Perhaps it was the Scepter that Forge held aloft?

A circular wave expanded across the surface of the cloud. The Diss started to advance, albeit more slowly than before. Havoc recognized the hunter’s instinct – the Diss were moving in for the kill.

His all round sensing detected movement behind him. He saw something flicker past his right hand side. The protest came from so deep inside him that he felt like his soul was crying out.

What are you doing, Weaver?

What do you mean?

You know what I mean!

Then you don’t need to ask.

"You cannot be about to save that bastard."

I thought you just forgave him.

I did forgive him.

Well then you should be fine with this.

Havoc reeled. He felt divorced from reality.

I was happy to forgive him when I knew he was going to die.

That’s not very forgiving.

Leave him!

No.

Leave him, Weaver!

No.

Everything in the universe seemed wrong. It was inexplicable.

Weaver!

 4.

Touvenay frowned as a mid-level alert flashed up in the Alliance platform control room, quickly cascading into a further set of linked alerts.

Whittenhorn rushed forward.

What’s happening?

Touvenay didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to study the instruments.

Touvenay, what is––

Touvenay shook his head.

I can’t explain it.

You can’t explain what?

We’ve shifted orbit.

What?

How? Charles said.

Touvenay raised his hand for silence.

Wait.

He reviewed the data streaming across a subsidiary screen.

Karch walked around the other side of the main console, examining the displays.

What’s wrong?

Are we under attack? Whittenhorn said.

Touvenay glanced up, his voice distracted.

What? I said wait.

Touvenay reviewed their platform heading information and reached a bewildering conclusion. He checked the data again, carefully and methodically. Same result. He spoke slowly, ruminating on his words. It’s the planet.

What? Karch said. She looked alarmed.

Are we in danger? Whittenhorn said.

Touvenay’s face was a mask of concentration.

Stop being melodramatic.

He turned back to the instruments.

I thought our orbit was changing around Plash but it’s definitely the other way round.

What are you talking about, Touvenay? Karch said.

Touvenay continued to study the instruments as he spoke.

It’s not us that’s moved in relation to Plash. Plash has moved in relation to us.

The faces around him displayed shock and bemusement.

"What?" Charles said.

Tomas grunted with disbelief.

That can’t be right, can it? Bergeron said.

I doubt it, Humberstone said.

Touvenay noted that Humberstone was unable, or perhaps unwilling, to hide the sneer in his voice.

The planet? Whittenhorn said, has just moved?

Touvenay nodded, increasingly certain.

That is correct.

Everyone looked at everyone else.

Is that normal? Whittenhorn said.

Touvenay turned to Whittenhorn, arching an eyebrow at him.

Does it sound normal to you?

 5.

Havoc watched Forge lift off the platform and swing toward him. Forge held the Scepter out to one side as he was pulled backward on the tether that Weaver had launched. The Scepter gleamed like a luminous sapphire in the golden light emitted by the Diss.

Weaver, don’t save him!

I can and I am.

Havoc watched in disbelief as the silver teardrop of Weaver’s ship curved past him, moving away from him laterally as it decelerated. Havoc pendulumed around the alien ship, moving away from the Diss cloud even as Weaver swung closer to it.

His face twisted in tortured disbelief as he watched Forge accelerating on a parallel arc to his own. His mind went into freefall.

I thought you were on my side, Weaver!

What has this got to do with sides?

Why can’t you just back me?

You said you forgive him!

He felt his bile rise in his throat.

Just because I forgive him doesn’t mean you have to save him.

That’s exactly what it means.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

I trusted you, Weaver.

I’m not you, Havoc! I can’t go around killing people!

Every molecule of his body protested.

You’re not killing him. You’re just letting him die.

It’s the same thing to me. She swallowed. I’m not like you.

In the distance, Forge’s small figure waved at him.

He howled in frustration.

 6.

The magnetic flux ropes layered across Jötunn’s northern region buckled under unimaginable forces.

A small plasma eddy gave the final nudge that tipped a flux rope beyond its ability to survive. The rope sheered and whiplashed outward, bursting through the photosphere of the star and into space beyond.

The other strands of flux rope released their pent up energy as they unraveled, smashing into each other before twisting wildly outward. The diverging fields accelerated trillions of tonnes of plasma along with them as the flux ropes careened across the surface of the star, desperately searching for a new equilibrium.

Five starspots, each over a million kilometers in diameter, emerged from the surface of the star like five tsunamis lifting from different parts of the ocean. They hurtled toward each other, growing in mass and gaining in momentum.

When they collided, the energy release would be astronomical.

 7.

Havoc shook his head even as he listened to Weaver.

You did forgive him, didn’t you, Havoc?

He fought to avoid total meltdown.

I was happy to forgive him when I thought he was about to be blasted into fucking oblivion.

Would you stop swearing?

No, you just rescued––

We need to talk about your killing issues.

My killing issues? I’m happy to talk about my killing issues if you’ll talk about your saving issues.

"My what?"

Do you know who he is? What he’s done? What that––

We’ve all done things we regret.

He recoiled at the implication, stunned.

Is that what you think, Weaver? Forge and I are the same?

I never said that and you know it.

His mind reeled. He felt cheated. He looked down at his right arm tricannon. Forge was only a short distance away from him. The Scepter glinted in Forge’s hand.

What about the Diss, Weaver?

We have time.

He breathed, trying to get a grip.

The Diss will take Forge and the Scepter and us with them.

We can reprogram it.

You can do that?

I feel like I can do anything right now, Havoc.

He ignored Weaver’s attempt to take the conversation in a more positive direction.

Then let Forge die.

There was a pause.

I can’t. I can’t just let someone die.

Forge’s voice clicked on.

Well, well, Son, life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?

 8.

Touvenay examined the holo. It detailed various probabilistic scenarios for both the orbit of Plash around the binary star system and their platform’s orbit around Plash, based on how much Plash’s orbit continued to shift.

Can we maintain orbit? Karch said.

Yes, I think so, Touvenay said.

"You think so?" Whittenhorn said.

What kind of planet can move? Charles said, shaking his head.

Touvenay adjusted his model’s parameters and scrutinized the results.

I don’t know.

What’s going on? Whittenhorn said.

I don’t know.

Well that’s not good enough, Touvenay.

Touvenay looked at Whittenhorn.

You want me to make up a reason?

 9.

Havoc tried to articulate his pain.

Weaver, this is the man responsible for killing my family.

He didn’t kill your family though, did he?

He lost it.

You’re arguing with me about how responsible Forge is for my family’s death? You’re fucking arguing with me about that, Weaver? And taking his side?

No. It didn’t come out right.

You’re just looking out for yourself.

What?

As long as you feel alright with what you do, you don’t give a fuck about the effect it has on me.

Weaver gasped in exasperation.

I can’t just watch a man die when I could save him, Havoc. Can’t you understand that?

He stuck his chin out obstinately.

No.

I just saved you. This isn’t right.

Weaver sounded upset but he was too angry to care. He felt betrayed.

What isn’t right?

My father’s theories, he was vilified for them. Some of them may have just been validated, right now. And I rescued you. Do you have any idea how terrifying this was for me? Kemensky died in this ship, Havoc, right where I am now. I saved you. Why are you ruining this for me, just because I’m not a killer like you?

A killer like me?

Wanting me to go around killing anyone you don’t like.

"Don’t like?"

I’m not like you. I can’t just let someone die. Maybe you think I should but I can’t. We’re different. I’m sorry.

She was crying.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It dawned on him how upset she was. And how much of a petulant bastard he was being. He stared up at the cloud of Diss. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart but it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fight.

He sighed.

I’m sorry.

I can’t do it.

I don’t want you to.

Weaver’s ship continued to drift nearer the advancing cloud of Diss as it decelerated and turned.

Weaver sobbed.

I can’t just let someone die.

 10.

Weaver seethed in a maelstrom of emotions, upset and confused.

Men. Bloody men.

I know. I’m sorry.

She shook her head and breathed deeply, starting to calm down. Tyburn had destroyed Havoc’s life. It was just the shock. Havoc would come round.

She reclined in the alien cockpit as she maneuvered the ship, surrounded by the twelve brilliant columns of energy. She could feel the power surging through the ship.

She felt more than saw all twelve columns go out. She blinked back to awareness inside the dark cockpit. There was a faint and still fading glow where the columns had shone like stars.

Shit, Havoc! I’m in trouble!

What?

It’s gone.

What’s gone?

She looked around frantically. She hadn’t managed to dump all her speed. The ship was traveling toward the Diss cloud, which was slowly advancing after Tyburn.

Who was behind her.

Oh no.

Weaver, talk to me. What is it?

Help me, Havoc.

 11.

The five sunspots on Jötunn converged at three kilometers per second, driving trillions of tonnes of plasma before them.

The sunspots smashed together in a titanic collision. Closely spaced coronal loops soared upward dragging billions of tonnes of plasma with them. The giant rings of fire formed a colossal solar arcade.

The solar arcade hovered in existence for a moment, before the force of Jötunn’s gravity prized apart the coronal loops at their zenith. The sides of each loop separated like molten metal rings cleaved open. Billions of tonnes of plasma retraced their curving arcs before crashing back down into the surface of the star.

With a gargantuan snap, the magnetic fields realigned, reintegrating all the fields apart from one gigantic helix field. This helix field, previously strong enough to resist the forces surrounding it, was now overwhelmed by the repulsive forces of the new magnetic equilibrium. It didn’t fit and it wasn’t welcome.

Unimaginable forces propelled the helix field away from Jötunn. It carried over a trillion trillion tonnes of plasma with it. A huge teardrop of superheated plasma rose majestically from the surface of the star and speared into the binary system.

 12.

Weaver couldn’t see any way to restart the extraordinary power source that had abruptly come to a halt inside her ship.

Can you get out of the vehicle? Havoc said.

She looked around the cockpit. The euphoria caused by her recent access to the Aulusthran technology was fading. Vague feelings of desperation needled her but she knew the full impact of the situation had not yet hit home. She wondered what had happened.

I ran out of fuel, I think.

Weaver, can you get outside?

She blinked back into the present. The seriousness of the situation began to sink in.

I’m doing it now.

She activated the inner hatch that exited the cockpit. There was a pause, perhaps to evacuate whatever had filled the passage leading to the exit? The curving panels that comprised the door retracted. She pulled herself into the dimly glowing tunnel that led to the outer hatch. She pushed off toward the exit of the ship and floated down the tunnel – not that the concept of ‘down’ had much meaning here.

Weaver, I don’t mean to rush you…

Nearly there.

She activated the outer hatch.

Great, don’t get a fright when I––

Why would I get a––

The hatch opened and she exited the alien craft.

Her mouth fell open. The seething mass of the Diss cloud towered over her like a battlecruiser over a dinghy. Its surface rippled in continuously undulating waves. She stared, hypnotized by the scale of the scintillating weapon system, then screamed in surprise as something hit her suit.

It’s just a cable, Weaver. I’m jetting us away.

She felt a tug and the alien ship started to drift away from her and toward the Diss. Of course, she couldn’t really tell what was moving, it was all relative. All she knew was that, relatively speaking, she wasn’t moving away from the cloud as fast as she would like.

I’m reeling you in.

She grimaced as the center of the shimmering cloud churned furiously.

What is it––

Like a primordial creature evolving tentacles, the cloud bunched up and a blunt appendage extended toward her ship.

––doing?

She felt like a toddler as she drifted backward, completely helpless. It was a peculiar role reversal with Havoc given the situation he’d been in only a minute before.

Er, can’t you go any faster?

We’ve got a problem, Weaver.

We do?

Not enough momentum on full jets.

Oh.

She contemplated the staggering scale of the advancing alien nebula.

Do you have anything else you can fire?

No. Kinetics and missiles won’t drive us enough and I don’t think a tacnuke will damage the cloud. Havoc paused. It might just make it angry.

She spoke in a small voice.

You’re not anthropomorphizing the Diss, are you Havoc?

The ghostly tentacle reached toward the Aulusthran ship, thinning as it extended. She watched with morbid fascination as individual gold motes darted forward then slowed, to be absorbed back into the main cloud. She felt as though she were viewing the agitated atoms in a cloud of gas. Was there some type of attractive force between them? How could the individual motes speed up but then appear to slow down again? How was their momentum being conserved? Was it being transferred to the motes around them?

Our options are limited here, Weaver. And when I say limited, I mean non-existent.

You know what to do.

Cut the cord. She couldn’t say it.

No.

Do it.

Not a goddamn chance.

You don’t have a choice.

I’m not cutting the cable.

It was the wrong decision but she felt relieved to hear him say it. Misery loves company, she thought.

The front of the Diss cloud made contact with the Aulusthran ship and started to glow fiercely. The front of the ship brightened in the cloud’s light, gleaming so brilliantly that it was hard to look at it directly. Diss motes suddenly swarmed along the sides of the vehicle, like desert locusts consuming a date palm. And the ship seemed to melt away.

Are you getting this?

Of course I’m getting it, I’m right behind you.

She was a scientist, trained to be a dispassionate observer. She would witness events from a neutral perspective, rather than as an unwilling participant. It would distance her from her fate. At least, she hoped it would.

The Aulusthran ship vanished.

She began her narrative.

I think the control is distributed, the cloud behaves like a swarm of self-propelled particles. Perhaps exhibiting some form of nearest neighbor rules? It would be useful if I could formulate a first cut set of macroscopic fluid equations for the spatiotemporal evolution of the momentum, density and redistribution of energy. There are––

We’re in trouble here, Weaver.

I’m in trouble.

We’re in trouble.

The cloud bore down on her, drawing ominously close. She swallowed.

There was only one thing left to say.

Cut the cord, Havoc.

 13.

The plasma at the leading edge of the solar flare heated to four million degrees Kelvin as it accelerated under the force of its ejection from Jötunn. Particles within the bow wave accelerated to ninety percent of the speed of light and the flare blasted out radiation across the spectrum.

The main body of the colossal jet of plasma streamed outward with no signs of stopping or even diminishing, instead continuing to thicken in diameter.

Its course was clear and predictable.

It was heading directly for Plash.

Or, rather, it was heading directly toward where Plash would have been, had the planet’s orbit not abruptly shifted ten minutes earlier.

 14.

Weaver didn’t have long to wait for Havoc’s response.

No.

Then I’ll cut it.

No, you won’t. And, Miss Logic, you don’t need to. If you get eaten by the cloud then the line will be cut anyway.

Good point but you’ll still be nearer.

I’ll take my chances.

She watched gold motes dart forward before drifting back into the advancing cloud. She felt like a fat caterpillar watching the approach of a swarm of ants. Her voice cracked a little.

Here they come.

Tiny gold scintilla surged in small steps toward her. Their rapid advances left streaks on her vision. She found them beautiful to watch. Their curving patterns were almost hypnotic.

She didn’t want to die. The thought hit her hard, taking her breath away. She felt so alone in this silly suit. She tried to get a grip.

Make sure you record the data I transmit.

Is this your way of handling it, Weaver?

If I describe it, I feel like I’m outside it. Like an observer.

Well stop being an observer and start taking part.

Please, Havoc.

Don’t give up on me, Weaver.

Please.

She grimaced as the Diss got nearer. So close now. When Havoc spoke, the tone of his voice had changed.

Go ahead, Weaver.

She nodded.

Thank you. It would appear that each particle has some kind of internal energy reservoir. There is some kind of attraction between the constituents of the cloud––

There was an explosion behind her. She felt a violent tug. She forgot her narrative as hope surged in her.

Anything?

There was silence for a moment.

Havoc sounded pained.

No, sorry.

The Diss tentacle was splitting into several strands as it neared her. She was so scared that she found herself involuntarily pulling her knees up so she could curl into a ball. She resisted the temptation to close her eyes, even though she desperately wanted to.

I’m scared, Havoc.

I know.

I’m really scared.

I’m here.

Talk to me, Havoc.

It’s ok.

The nearest motes were twenty meters away.

I don’t want this.

There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Talk to me, please.

It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.

A solitary tear dribbled down her cheek.

I don’t want to be alone here.

 15.

Touvenay scanned the instruments as alerts lit up across the central console. What was going on? He didn’t feel scared, he felt inquisitive. He was a natural problem solver. His instinctive reaction wasn’t concern, it was curiosity. It was a puzzle to him. He wanted to understand it.

Well? Whittenhorn said.

Touvenay zoomed in the holo.

We have a lot of activity on Jötunn. Solar flare.

Eyes widened around the room as the jet of plasma erupting from the star’s photosphere came into focus.

Fu-uck, Karch said.

It’s huge, Charles said.

Are we in danger? Whittenhorn said.

Yes, Touvenay said, nodding. It appears to be heading right for… – he tailed off in surprise as he plotted the flare’s trajectory – …where we were?

Where we are? Charles said.

Touvenay stared at the holo. He was unable to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

Where we were, he repeated.

"Where we were?" Humberstone said.

Charles looked at Touvenay, confused.

You don’t mean…? Charles said, tailing off.

You don’t mean the planet somehow anticipated the solar flare and has taken avoiding action before we even perceived its existence?

Touvenay looked back at Charles, equally perplexed.

He nodded.

Yes.

Charles watched the jet of plasma extending outward from the star.

It’s incredible. It’s massive.

And growing, Tomas said.

Is it going to miss us? Karch said.

Touvenay nodded.

Barely.

Can we shift the platform further away, to be certain? Whittenhorn asked.

Unfortunately, no, Touvenay said.

Why not? Whittenhorn demanded.

Because it’s moving somewhat faster than us, Touvenay said.

How fast?

About thirty thousand kilometers per second.

Whittenhorn looked subdued.

Oh. That is fast.

 16.

Weaver’s heart rate accelerated as the swirling tentacle of Diss extended toward her. She could make out the movements of the glittering scintilla within it. Their speed was deceptive. At any one time the majority of the motes traveled slowly, almost languidly, as if they were drifting through fluid in suspension. She didn’t harbor any illusions though as an ever changing minority of the motes darted forward. She watched the gold scintilla approach her, feeling as though she was about to be enveloped in a kaleidoscope. She thought she had seconds, at most. Her throat was so dry that she struggled to swallow.

The tentacle’s blunt end halted ten meters away. She stared at it, wondering if she had been granted a last minute reprieve.

The tentacle grew more substantial as its constituents grouped and collected, the motes thickening and swarming as they built on each other. Weaver watched their behavior with a mixture of horror and fascination. What would happen to her? She felt both nauseous and curious, though she was sure that her curiosity would evaporate should the tentacle advance toward her again.

She grimaced at the prospect.

Oh God, Havoc, I hope this doesn’t hurt.

You’re not done yet, Weaver.

Come on Havoc, let’s––

Her mouth fell open as terror gripped her.

Oh God, Havoc, they’re glowing.

 17.

Charles stared, bewitched by the plasma jetting out from Jötunn like a majestic lance of molten glass. The tip of the solar flare glowed brilliantly as it superheated under untold forces. Surrounding the flare was a weave of plasma, unimaginable in scale, that glowed like copper wire as it aligned with Jötunn’s magnetic flux lines.

Charles shook his head.

Something on Plash reacted to the solar flare before we even detected it? How is that even possible?

Fournier mumbled incoherently.

Charles looked at the physics genius, wondering if he were about to return to lucidity and declare something meaningful.

Fournier babbled and grunted.

Charles sighed. There were disappointed looks all round.

Is this survivable? Karch asked.

Touvenay plotted a projection on the holo. The virtual flare traced its way across the system, passing uncomfortably near Plash.

We’re going to be right on the boundary of the ejection cone, Touvenay said.

That isn’t acceptable, Whittenhorn said.

Charles glanced at Whittenhorn, perplexed. Touvenay looked sour. Karch nodded at the holo.

That’s it.

Charles turned to see the trailing edge of the solar flare thin before it broke free of Jötunn. They watched in silence as the monumental plasma bolt assumed its own cosmic identity.

Charles was awestruck.

It’s a planet killer.

Whittenhorn’s voice cracked.

And it’s coming straight at us.

Touvenay surveyed the holo.

"Not to be too Panglossian, Whittenhorn, but it’s not straight at us."

 18.

Havoc looked at Weaver as he reeled her in. A tidal wave of sparkling gold was about to break over her. She looked small and helpless before the overwhelming scale of the amorphous juggernaut. The Diss had swallowed the Aulusthran ship like a whale shark feeding on plankton – it would consume Weaver without compunction or hesitation.

He racked his brain. He could blow a power pack but it would need to be in line with the cable connecting him to Weaver and the detonation would cut the wire. There had to be something.

Hang in there, Weaver.

For what?

If you breathe, you hope.

Oh no, Havoc!

The panic in her voice cut into him. He was out of options. After she had just saved him and all that had gone before, he was going to watch her die.

Talk to me, Havoc, she pleaded, please.

Don’t––

Please, Havoc.

Damn it. He was going to lose her.

Forge’s voice clicked on.

Would you take my help if I offered it, Son?

 19.

Touvenay frowned at their platform’s predicted environmental conditions.

Based on our tightening projection of the precise path of the solar flare, we’re going to have a significant bremsstrahlung.

Tomas looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

A what?

A massive stream of energetic solar particles; electrons, protons and heavier ions.

A radiation storm, Charles said.

Hazardous to us here? Karch said.

Touvenay nodded.

Almost certainly.

Karch adjusted controls on the console.

The magnetic field generator is up to maximum.

We’ll only get six hours out of it at that level before it seriously degrades, Touvenay said, reducing the level, I suggest we run it at eighty.

Karch reached over and turned the control right back up to where it flashed orange as ‘unsustainable’.

Why don’t we worry about that in six hours?

Touvenay shook his head.

It’s shortsighted. The elevated levels will last for days.

It’s not the storm’s ability to last that I’m worried about.

Touvenay looked around the team. No one offered him any support. He shook his head in a resigned fashion.

As you wish.

Humberstone nodded at the magnetic field control.

Will that deflect the storm?

It will reduce the effect, Charles said.

Touvenay chuckled.

A sliver.

Bergeron pointed at the holo.

What’s happening to Plash?

They turned to view the planet.

The parts of Plash’s atmosphere that were exposed to Jötunn scintillated with a dazzling prismatic effect. Purple aurora spontaneously appeared at both poles then dribbled outward as if thick custard were being poured over the planet.

It’s stunning, Humberstone said.

Charles nodded.

It’s so fast.

Humberstone turned to Touvenay.

Is this what you expected given the solar flare?

Touvenay studied the sensors, some already spiking red. He nodded.

It’s logical. The solar wind is bombarding Plash’s atmosphere. The solar particles are incredibly energetic.

Bergeron shook her head as she watched the top and bottom of the planet turn deep violet.

Can Plash survive this?

Whittenhorn laughed.

Don’t be ridiculous.

Touvenay frowned at the instruments, scrolling through the sensor information as he took the question seriously.

Whittenhorn fell silent.

Touvenay pursed his lips as he considered the possibilities.

Plash will suffer a violent geomagnetic storm. Plash’s main risk is that the flare tears away its magnetosphere or partially disconnects it. In any case, we should expect major disruption to Plash’s magnetosphere.

Touvenay raised an eyebrow at the updating data feeds on his display. He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Which is strengthening."

Charles shook his head in disbelief.

"The planet is reacting?"

Touvenay nodded, still distracted by the extraordinary instrument readings. What could it mean? He stared at the holo.

He blinked in surprise – along with everyone else – as the holo image did something he’d never seen it do; something that it simply never did.

It flickered.

 20.

Havoc watched the gold leviathan bearing down on Weaver. It might be the most fearsome thing he’d ever seen. Weaver looked insignificant, a tiny speck against the scale of the tempestuous alien nebula. Her outstretched limbs gave her the appearance of Vitruvian Man as she was silhouetted against the gleaming circular end of the advancing Diss tentacle.

I’ve only got one condition, Son.

Quickly.

He braced himself for the inevitable trade. Would Forge want to keep the Scepter? Would he want access to the Alliance platform?

My name is Tyburn, Son, Jack Tyburn. Claudius Forge was a mission in enemy territory for me, nothing more. Tyburn is my name. Deal?

Deal, Tyburn.

He felt Tyburn’s cable hit him, attach and then tug at him, accelerating him backward.

We’re moving, Havoc. We’re moving away!

Yeah. I’m reeling you in.

You don’t need to sound so happy about it!

You can be happy for both of us.

"I am happy for both of us."

I didn’t mean you and me.

 21.

Abbott sat in the cockpit of the Gathering shuttle, grinding his teeth, concentrating hard, straining to contain his cravings, his undeniable urges, his overwhelming need, to slaughter everyone bustling around him. His instincts screamed with the need to inflict suffering and death. It violated the very essence of his being to let the human vermin surrounding him live. They were prey to be infected and killed. It was his entire purpose. He squeezed his hands into tight fists. The forbearance required to effect his plan was proving far more challenging than he’d imagined.

He breathed deeply. He knew that he needed discipline. And he knew that he needed, somehow, to reproduce. He had some ideas about how to beget more Talmas but the one blessing of the Gathering civilization – their intense religious subservience – was at least partially offset by their relative technological inferiority. The other civilizations in the system had far more sophisticated biotechnology capabilities. Abbott intended to use them to the full.

We are nearing the Alliance platform, oh Divine Munificence.

Abbott nodded and studied their shuttle instrumentation. He rechecked the position of the nearby Diss cloud. The dissembler weapon was straddling the location where the ORC Relentless had been caught, not twenty minutes earlier. He noted that the weapon system was moving slowly in their direction.

Interesting.

He’d been right to trust in the human thirst for self-destruction, he reflected. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. He knew that Tyburn had taken the Scepter from Havoc before departing for the ORC