The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) Read online

  He needed to climb several levels before continuing towards the bridge. He found a service ladder, used it, and sailed down the corridor, destroying the overhead lights as a precaution as he went. He took advantage of the current straight run to double check the echo’s position with the Spectacles. He was gaining on her and would in fact reach her before she reached the bridge, but just barely. He turned down a corridor to his right, climbed another ladder to the next level and steadied himself for his imminent encounter with the echo.

  And there she was. She was the first of them that looked as though she could put up a a real fight. He supposed that Mai Pardine might have been able to, and there were probably others in the past as well, but Stoakes knew nothing of them. The woman was perhaps fifty meters from the pressure door leading to the bridge. Stoakes stalked silently behind her, drawing closer and closer until the woman stopped.

  A vibration had shot through the ship. Stoakes felt it under his feet and could see the metal wall, the floor, the ceiling vibrating down to stillness.

  Scilia Moro, whose name Stoakes would never know, cocked her head uneasily and dropped her hand to her hip and the waiting pistol. Stoakes slowed, crept more quietly, but continued forward, trying to ignore any significance that vibration might have had. He swallowed hard and wondered at his delicate nerves. What made this situation—this echo—any more dangerous than the fifty or so others that preceded her? It wasn’t her gun, though he was sure she could use it.

  And use it she did. With a speed that surprised Stoakes, the woman whirled, leveled her gun with practiced ease, and fired. He felt his right cheek split and erupt fire, but he kicked forward, jamming out a Longsword Knife thrust, that despite his momentarily obscured vision, found its target unerringly. A blade of compressed air shot with a bass thump, passing between her gripping fingers, severing the handle of her pistol, and slicing cleanly out the back of her right hand.

  “Warning. Unauthorized weapons discharge detected at bridge access one. Warning. . .”

  “Warning. Unauthorized presence on the bridge. This is a security alert. All available hands to the bridge. Warning. . .”

  Stoakes cocked his head at the competing announcements. Playing over each other, they didn’t seem to be for the same thing.

  The gun fell in two pieces to the floor as she snatched up her wounded hand, clutching it to her breast. Panic flashed in her eyes. She turned and ran for the bridge.

  Stoakes touched ground and kicked off again, significantly closing the gap between them. She reached the pressure door, calmed herself to work the code with her left hand, and found herself in an unbreakable embrace just as the door was about to slide open. Oily black smoke covered her mouth to prevent her from crying out.

  “I’m sorry,” Stoakes whispered in her ear from behind. He took moments to steady them both then put the chisel point of the Suicide Knife to her temple before pushing it home. He freed the blade, releasing a fine red spray, like a spritz of hot perfume. Gingerly, and with a degree of care that had been building over the years, he eased her down into a comfortable sitting position against the corridor wall. He gently placed her hands in her lap, and fumbled for a moment, wanting to do more for her, but of course there was nothing to be done. She would not die, not directly from the two wounds he’d inflicted upon her, but from surgically induced apathy. He’d robbed her of her connection to the source and of her essential identity. He backed away, eyeing the open pressure door to the bridge for safety’s sake. What he saw beyond the door made him sick to his stomach, not from fear but from compounding guilt.

  Jav Holson was on the bridge and staring right at him through the open door. Jav Holson. A throng of crew members stood between them and would slow Holson, but Stoakes realized immediately that this had nothing to do with odds and everything to do with Holson’s connection to the echo, now quieted. Stoakes had to get off this ship immediately.

  He stupidly looked at the Suicide Knife in his hand, sheathed it, and made his way to the nearest airlock. He’d noted several while studying the ship for a route to the echo and was just minutes away from being free. At a ladder, he simply dropped down several levels, not bothering to use the rungs. He reached out, grabbed hold to stop his descent, and found himself half-surrounded by crew members. Without thinking, his hand went to the small of his back, and the Suicide Knife flashed. All four fell over dead, blood pumping from their cut throats.

  The airlock was before him moments later. He palmed the plunger switch to open the first set of doors, stepped inside, pushed the second plunger, and turned his back to the doors that would open on the vacuum of space. He didn’t expect anyone to try to stop him, but he watched the first set of doors close just in case. All he saw, though, was the woman he’d ruined and sentenced to death. As the first doors closed, the doors behind him began to open. Warning lights flashed, an alarm sounded within the chamber, rising in volume to mix with the whoosh of escaping air. Stoakes let himself be taken and was sucked out of the ship. He waited for a full minute, his eyes seeing nothing but staring in the direction of the echo, before he activated the Tether Launch retrieval unit.

  And then he was back in Bay 116. The bay doors were still open, but the Palace’s environmental system kept everything neat and tidy and oxygenated. He tore the retrieval pack from his wrist, cast it to the floor, then passed through the floor to his new quarters below.

  Ana Tain still lay sleeping upon the bed, naked under the covers. He returned to normal and peeled off his clothes—already with a nice big hole burned through them. His cheek and guts stung hotly. Blistered black flakes decorated each wound but he didn’t care. He knew this was cheating, but he didn’t care about that either.

  He went to the bed, roused Ana, and took her by the hand to the bathroom.

  “Mr. Stoakes, you’ve been hurt,” she said, showing real concern.

  He shut his eyes tighter to squeeze the tears from them and prevent more from coming.

  He walked them into the shower, turned the knob, and sat them both down under the hot, purgative spray.

  “Mr. Stoakes, are you all right?”

  There were no more words, not for a long time. He held her to him, rocking back and forth, never wanting to let her go. She didn’t object.

  2.3 NEAR MISS

  10,810.302.2230

  The sense of urgency was palpable. None had ever seen Witchlan in such a nervous state. He wrung his hands, pacing back and forth in front of the war room’s main holographic screen, which showed a shocking development. The Palace was surrounded by ships of such size and in such number that the Vine was almost made to seem small.

  “Unfortunately, General Holson’s data regarding their shields is outdated, incorrect, or somehow not applicable to Tether Launch. We’ve landed several bombs which have stopped just short of their energy screens. The damage has resulted in little more than temporarily upsetting ships’ courses. Currently we are running several Prisma Shield generators concurrently, with alternating frequencies to ensure that their weapons cause us the least amount of harm.

  “On top of this, we’ve confirmed, through intercepted transmissions, that these two groups are at war with one another, making us an actual and collateral target.”

  “Minister,” Jav said, “the jump ship literally crashed through the Kalnia’s hull. It was more or less unscathed.”

  “Wait,” Scanlan said, “General Holson, you said it was during a jump that this happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the jump ship’s energy screens were down at the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the both of you suggesting,” Witchlan said a bit impatiently, “that we turn our jump ships into bombs, rather expensive bombs?”

  “No, Minister,” Scanlan said. “But I believe that I might have a way to rid us of our problem.”

  “How?” Witchlan said.

  “Jump ship armor is essentially just intricately woven Vine fiber. I know the Emperor has been very b
usy of late, but if it would be possible to fashion eight one-man vessels with this same armor to get Shades into select ships, I believe I may be able to take control of both fleets.”

  “Explain.”

  “Minister.” Scanlan stood and backed away from the table. He stared down at an empty spot upon the floor and from the monocle covering his right eye poured forth the Clockwork Beam.

  Jav watched in horror and fascination as the “beam” seemed to deposit a fast-drying liquid, which formed perfect cogs and gears, working together with surprising precision. The liquid built up, the parts took shape. Lights flickered on from various points upon the growing machineling which began to hum with strange life.

  The beam ceased. Scanlan bent down to collect his creation, swung it around, and set it gently upon the glass table.

  “If we install these within strategically located ships, I’m confident that we can utilize their communications system to establish a network. The ships with these devices would be the masters, the rest of the ships the slaves. As these devices are extensions of me, I would be in total control of the entirety of the two fleets, able to manipulate them as I would my own hands.

  “Can this be done?” Witchlan said incredulously.

  “It can.”

  “We knew you were a worthy choice, Mr. Scanlan,” Witchlan said.

  “Thank you, Minister.”

  “Eight. That means all of you are going. We don’t like having none of you left within the Palace, but there is little choice. Tether Launch cannot reach beyond their screens, but all any of you need do is escape beyond those screens and we will retrieve you. It will take some time to create the vessels. In the meantime, report to Tether Launch Bay 84 to equip emergency retrieval systems. Mr. Scanlan, how long will it take you to complete the rest of the devices?”

  “An hour perhaps.”

  “See that it is no more. Have them ready in the Tether Launch bay so that we may load them into the vessels during production.”

  “Yes, Minister.”

  10,810.303.0025

  Tether Launch Bay 84 was crowded with Shades and operators already preparing for the Shades’ return.

  Scanlan was standing by a holographic screen that was divided down the middle and which displayed an alien fleet on each half.

  “Okay,” Jav said. “This is going to be simple. The target array has been mapped out as you can see.”

  “Yes, we need to deliver devices here, here, here, and here,” Scanlan said, pointing to one half of the screen, then to the other, “and here, here, here, and here for this fleet.”

  “Generals, we’ll take the first fleet. Titan Squad, you take the late arrivals. So far, with us as a shield, neither side has taken much damage, but that could change so be careful.

  “Scanlan, I want you to put me here,” Jav said, pointing to the screen. “You are here. Raus here. Icsain here.”

  Scanlan began typing information into a small keyboard set within a podium to convey target choices to the launch system.

  “Vays,” Jav said, “You can make your own choices or let Scanlan do it for you.”

  Vays shrugged. “Send us where you will, Scanlan.”

  Scanlan nodded and continued typing without a break.

  “This should be simple, but I’ll say good luck just the same,” Jav said.

  Hilene approached him, took both his hands in hers briefly, before stepping away to press through the fibers of one of the walls so that she disappeared between and beyond them.

  • • •

  Witchlan, alone in the war room, shook his head in disbelief. Did Jav Holson even know that he’d selected for himself the exact ship he’d pointed out earlier when discussing the Kalnia? The exact ship Salton Stoakes was already aboard?

  Though he realized that he may come to regret it, Witchlan—the Emperor—decided not to alter the course of Jav’s torpedo. Things were tenuous enough with Jav’s memory and would become even more so the closer they got to The Place with Many Doors. The Emperor was now certain that the source of the soul echo must originate there. The way had become thick with echoes and probability screamed against it being a mere fluke. He would take steps to prepare for the day Jav remembered all, but right now was not that time. Jav must be allowed to act naturally. If anything besides Stoakes got in the way of his reuniting with one of those echoes, it might serve as an unwelcome prod to recollection. That was an eventuality the Emperor was expecting, but he wanted to deal with it properly and on his own terms if possible. Besides, Stoakes had proven himself quite able. The Emperor would trust in that ability, if only for a bit longer.

  • • •

  Jav had never been in a phloem tube before, hadn’t even known they existed. After a wild ride and being expelled wet from one into a red-lit, claustrophobic chamber, he wished he were still ignorant of them. Their instructions had been clear: enter the phloem tubes; climb into the very phallic insertion craft; hold on to the support grips inside; on successful breach of the target’s hull, collect Scanlan’s device from the rear of the craft; connect Scanlan’s device to the ship’s computer system, preferably to the ship’s bridge interface; leave the ship by any means necessary. As he ran through these instructions in his head, he was startled by an instant of explosive velocity that brought him crashing into the side of one of ships that looked just like the Kalnia.

  The front of the torpedo exploded outward to reveal a cavernous space not unlike their own war room—the bridge, if he wasn’t mistaken. Jav eased himself from the slackening grip of the torpedo’s interior, and stepped onto the bridge. To his right, he could see a curved viewport standing four meters tall by eight meters wide, with skeletal metal supports shot throughout. Below this were six seated work stations which were occupied by men in long, heavy coats who were staring at him stupidly. To Jav’s left was a raised platform that backed against the wall. Low stairs led up to it on either side. This area housed a total of three work stations. The two foremost were occupied by a man and a woman, both dressed as the others, and also gawking. The third station, raised yet higher and most likely the captain’s chair, was empty. He scanned the room for exits, noting one on the left wall, with easy access to the raised platform. Immediately across from the stairs leading up to the platform were more stairs leading down. He thought it safe to assume that, though out of view, both of these were mirrored on the other side of the bridge.

  “Warning,” an automated voice rang out. “Unauthorized weapons discharge detected at bridge access one. Warning. . .”

  Jav glanced back at his torpedo in response to the announcement then to the woman’s sudden frenzied movement high to his left.

  “Warning,” a second automated voice sounded over the first. “Unauthorized presence on the bridge. This is a security alert. All available hands to the bridge. Warning. . .”

  Their heads cleared by the blaring alert telling them what they already knew, all the bridge personnel scrambled to draw their Farmingtons, some with ease and grace, some with almost comical clumsiness. A red light flashed, and a klaxon joined the repeating bridge warning.

  “What the hell is a man in a skeleton suit doing on the bridge?” one of the crewmen cried.

  Jav didn’t move for a moment. He felt a strange kind of pleasant calm working through him. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He watched as each of the bridge crew settled into whatever actions they had decided on. Would they try to subdue him or kill him?

  The first shot came, and Jav was ready, bending the course of the raging energy with Approaching Infinity. All watched as the coherent light veered off of true, struck high on the wall behind Jav and brought forth a bright rain of sparks. In an eye blink, Jav was standing before the one who’d fired, his clawed hand poking out through the man’s back. Another shot flashed, but Jav was gone, flipping backwards through the space afforded by the vaulted ceiling over the beam so that his victim—in the unlikely event that he’d surv
ived—was dealt a second fatal blow. The blast from the Farmington burst the man’s torso and continued through to give birth to another fountain of sparks upon the opposite wall. More men were coming up the stairs from both sides of the bridge now, and the exit door Jav had first noted hissed open.

  As the pressure door opened, Jav felt his eyes strangely and inexorably drawn to what lay beyond. Caution was, of course, advisable, but that wasn’t what snared him. He thought for a fleeting instant that his heart and his head would explode in synchronization. It was like the threshold of orgasm, but there was no climax, just a sudden build, like the unfulfilled promise of all questions answered, of blissful eternity, of true, realized infinity. The build was sudden and expansive, dwarfing his experience—his existence—and left him suddenly empty, more empty than he had ever consciously known. Or was it comparable to something he had known? His world was a hollow abyss furnished with nothing but dread and dull, insatiable anger. Something that belonged to him had been taken. Again. Each time that something was taken, a part of him died. Like cells in an organism, winking out one at a time until all that remained was a series of empty husks bound together in a parody of meaning, haunted by the mocking memory of loss. The anger, he knew, would grow, would take up residence in all the places that were once filled with light and hope until anger was all there was. Perhaps this was not unknown to him. . .

  Something dark fluttered at the door, but the men and their dangerous arms were filling the bridge, demanding his attention. He cracked his knuckles, ignoring several poorly aimed Farmington shots, bent low, and swept through the bridge, his fingers tearing through skin, muscle, and bone in a bloody riot, just as they had on the Kalnia.

  Though it became too crowded and chaotic for effective use of Farmingtons, shots still blazed out. Some of the crew fell to this friendly fire. Jav was struck three times, but didn’t realize it until after he’d killed everyone who’d poured into the bridge from the multiple entryways. One shot, which his conscious mind refused to accept, struck him full in the face, or would have if it hadn’t been turned away somehow. He’d been too caught up in the savage moment to use AI, and he was too late to acknowledge the threat of certain death to invoke the Ghost Kaiser, so he conveniently forgot about the incident to the tune of familiar laughter—surely not his own—buried down deep within him.