Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga (2 page)

Monica replaced the plaque in its box. Gideon raised one eyebrow, but didn’t say anything more about her reaction as he followed her into the kitchen. Soon, a loaf of bread and cold meat sat on the counter.

“So, were you born illegally?”

Monica chuckled but didn’t look up as she spread mayonnaise over the fresh-cut slice of bread. “Of course. All the elders were. Even your father, to some extent.”

“How could it be illegal if he was the first?”

“Your grandfather didn’t exactly ask permission to go through with the procedure. I don’t know if it was technically illegal, but a lot of other people thought so, or that it was somehow unethical. Things were pretty bad for us right from the very beginning. People can lose their decency pretty quick when they think they’re being threatened.”

After she finished the sandwich, she passed it over to him, then made her own. Gideon watched her hands as he chewed.

“Do you think we’ll do better, once we get to Valkyrie, I mean?”

Monica stopped preparing the sandwich and tapped the knife handle on the counter. “I think so. Otherwise what’s the point?”

They ate their sandwiches in silence for a while, chewing their thoughts along with their food. It was always a bit overwhelming to think of his parents’ history. It made sense why they’d waited so long to have children, given everything they’d been through. Gideon was the youngest person aboard the ship; part of the last generation of aionians to be born before reaching the planet Valkyrie.

A light knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “I got it,” said Gideon, and he slid off his stool. When he opened the door, a skinny man with a mustache was waiting outside.

“Oh. Hi, Gideon. I was looking for your mother.”

“Hey, Doctor Marcus, she’s right here.”

Doctor Byron Marcus had worked with Monica as long as Gideon could remember, but it was strange that he’d come to see her at their house, especially on a Sunday morning. Monica was already at the door when Gideon turned to call her.

“Hey, Byron, what’s up?”

Byron Marcus opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyes flickered over to Gideon. Monica looked at Gideon sideways.

“Ahem. Well, I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” said Gideon. He gave Byron a quick nod and made his way back up the creaky stairs as Monica stepped out onto the porch and closed the door.

Once inside his room, Gideon crossed over to the window, which stood open just a crack. The window was directly above the porch where Byron and his mother were talking. A breeze blew through the oak tree outside, making it difficult to decipher the hushed tones below.

“I’m telling you, I’m not paranoid. I’ve got proof this time,” said Dr. Marcus.

“Keep it down, Byron. I didn’t say you were paranoid. What kind of proof?”

“...better if I show you...” The leaves rustling in the wind covered most of Byron’s reply. A gust came as Monica spoke, and Gideon heard none of it.

“...might not be enough time. You better come right now,” said Byron.

“Fine. I’ll meet you... minutes. But keep this... last thing we need are people... a saboteur on board trying to blow up...”

The conversation ended. A moment later, Byron walked down the path to the autopod station. Footsteps creaked up the stairs, and Gideon scrambled to get away from the window in time.

There was a knock at the door. “Gid? I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

Only after her footsteps moved off down the hall did Gideon realize he’d been holding his breath. He let it out as slowly as he could, trying to process what he’d heard. Out the window, Byron’s autopod zipped away in the direction of Central Command.

T
HE
MUZZLE
OF
the rifle slowly moved out beyond the cover of the shipping container. The tiny optical sensors mounted on the side sent images back to Gideon’s helmet and displayed them on his visor’s augmented reality display. With practiced precision, he manipulated the camera’s controls with his right thumb until he was satisfied no ambush awaited his squadron beyond the cover of the containers. Geodesic domes and rectangular storage containers of the moon base were the only features on the moon.

“Clear left,” he whispered into his com.

Joseph Uritumbo answered in a rumbling bass that wasn’t made for whispering. “Clear right.”

“All right, team.” It was their squad leader, Takomi Tsukamoto. “Advance to NAV alpha on my mark.” A yellow navigational beacon appeared on Gideon’s AR display. “Joseph, cover our advance. Three, two, one, mark.”

Gideon lurched forward into the loping gate of someone running in low gravity. Three of his teammates ran alongside him, each one named on his display. The fastest way to NAV alpha would have been one giant leap forward. With his Sentinel Armor’s augmented strength and the moon’s low gravity, it would have been an easy thing to do. The problem was that if the enemy fired at Gideon while he was halfway through a long leap, he would have no way to stop or turn his body to return fire.

They took their places behind cover at NAV alpha. Once again, they scanned the terrain, and Takomi signaled for Joseph to move up. He bounded forward like a lumbering bear.

Once Joseph was safe behind cover, Takomi marked the next NAV beacon. “Gideon, you cover.”

Settling into position, Gideon leaned out to get the best possible view of the terrain ahead. The others ran forward to the next layer of cover.
 

As they ran, Gideon’s mind returned to the conversation between his mother and Doctor Marcus the day before. All day he’d wondered if he’d heard them correctly, and all night he lay awake trying to decide if he should talk to his mother about it. It was crazy to think someone aboard the
Leviathan
would seriously consider blowing something up. It was their ark, their only hope of survival out here in the Void. No one aboard the massive starship would dream of intentionally damaging their home.

An alarm beeped in his ear, and a warning light flashed on his display. He raised his rifle a fraction of a second too late. Incoming small arms fire ricocheted off the container right in front of his face. He managed to squeeze off a few wild shots before ducking behind cover.

He yelled into his com. “Contact right.” Of course, his team’s AR displays would have already warned them, but the redundant verbal warning was one of a thousand little procedures drilled into his brain.

Shots hit the container behind him as his team yelled to each other. Gideon raised the camera of his rifle muzzle over the top of the container and identified three hostiles. His AI calculated a ballistic trajectory as he loaded a grenade into the breach. On the AR display, Joseph’s icon changed from blue to yellow. KIA.

“Dammit,” muttered Gideon as he adjusted the angle of his weapon according to his AI’s suggestions. The hollow thump of the grenade launcher was muffled by his armor’s automatic noise dampeners. He raised the camera over the top of the crate in time to see the grenade explode next to a small vehicle, and one of the enemy icons flashed and turned yellow.

The next grenade round was in the breach and ready to launch when Takomi’s icon flashed and went yellow. A second later, the other two squad members turned yellow too.
 

“Crap,” he said and lifted his rifle to fire off the second grenade. Before he could fire it off, his helmet sounded the alarm that signaled incoming munitions. With legs strengthened by his armor’s graphene muscles, he leapt away. A second later, the grenade exploded behind him.

Even in the low gravity, he came down hard and slammed into a metal crate, losing his grip on his rifle. It spun away and cartwheeled across the moon’s surface. Small arms fire rang out from behind him as he reached for his sidearm strapped to his thigh. In one motion, he dove behind the crate and spun around to fire back at the enemy.

The small crate provided little cover, and he was up against at least two hostiles. Without his rifle’s muzzle camera, he had to risk poking his head out from behind cover. Concentrated fire kept him from getting a good look at his enemies, but it was more than enough for his AI to pinpoint their locations. Three red icons appeared on his display, fanning out to flank him. He pulled a grenade from his belt and set a three-second delay with maximum burst.
 

When it was likely the closest enemy was in range, he lobbed the grenade backwards over the crate. The moment after it exploded, he risked another glance around his cover and his AI confirmed the kill.
 

There was no time to celebrate his lucky hit before his helmet alarm warned him of another incoming grenade. He launched himself away from the crate as the explosion ripped it to shreds. Shrapnel tore into his legs, and he collapsed as soon as he hit the ground, unable to stand. It was all he could do to flip over and point his sidearm toward the enemy, but it was too late. Bullets ripped into him, and a second later, the words, “You Are Dead” appeared on his display.

The simulation ended, and the illusion of the moon base faded away to be replaced by the matte grey obstacles that added the physical dimension to the training exercise. The obstacles were made of long rods that came up out of the ground to create shapes and terrain. The training field had thousands of these rods, and could be programmed to create an infinite number of simulated scenes.

As the rods receded back into the ground, Gideon removed his helmet. The moment he did so, someone smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!” He spun around to see Takomi glaring at him. She held her helmet against her hip, straight black hair in a ponytail. “What was that for?”

“For getting us all killed, moron. You were supposed to cover us, remember? Did you fall asleep?”

It wasn’t far from the truth. “I’m sorry. They came out of nowhere. You know the defenders always have the advantage.”

Gideon could see the cadets from the opposing team giving each other high fives and sending taunts their way.

Takomi looked away from them and scoffed at Gideon. “So, what, you just hand it to them?”

Joseph walked over to where they were standing, flashing a smile full of bright white teeth.
 

“Don’t worry about it, Takomi. You’ll get it next time.”

Joseph slapped Gideon on the back and sent him stumbling forward.

“Those were some pretty sweet moves you pulled at the end there, Gid. I can’t believe you nailed Raj with that blind grenade throw.”

“That was pure luck. It was the only thing I could think of.”

Takomi was already pulling off her gloves and unlatching her armor.

“I’m surprised to hear you were thinking at all. Come on. Let’s go debrief.”

They checked in their training rifle and sidearm at the armory. Though the weapons were replicas, their Sentinel Armor was fully functional battle gear. The suit’s augmented reality and ultrasonic haptic feedback made them equally useful in battle and in training.

The training center’s conference room was dimly lit as they took their places on one of the benches. A tall blond woman with Scandinavian features took the floor in front of them. Tawny Drexel was one of the ship’s best combat instructors, and the fact that she was conducting the debrief made Gideon’s shoulders relax. She would be harsh but fair and to the point. The verbal lashing wouldn’t be drawn out all day.

A map of the training scenario appeared on the wall behind her.

“The only good thing about that atrocity out there is that you all died quickly. If you lot weren’t the youngest aionians aboard the ship, I would have thought I was watching a bunch of ten year olds.”

Tawny proceeded to tear into them, using maps and camera footage as evidence of their incompetence. Gideon got a good tongue lashing for his slow response as lookout, but Takomi received an even harsher lecture for choosing a bad NAV point and rushing out into the open with her team.

The opposing team wasn’t spared either. According to Tawny, Takomi’s team was so exposed that they should have been able to wipe them out without too much difficulty and with no casualties on their side. Since he’d been behind cover, Gideon was the only one on his team to live long enough to log any kills.

The lot of them were assigned two extra hours of drill later in the week to correct their incompetence, and then they were dismissed.
 

Gideon followed Takomi out of the training center and onto the platform overlooking the biosphere of the
Leviathan
. Before them lay fields and houses, shops and offices, all glued to the interior of a giant cylindrical drum spinning through space. The autopod network, magnetic rails that carried passenger and cargo pods, crisscrossed the entire structure on elevated pylons. Directly below them, a blue lake glittered in the artificial sunlight, fed by a river that coiled its way down the length of the biosphere. The entire world of
Leviathan
was visible from any point within it, with horizons curving up and away to loop around over themselves. It was the only world that Gideon and the other Voidborns knew, a world that was just a giant tube flying through space.

This training platform, situated halfway up the wall at the stern of the biosphere, was close to the central axis, and therefore experienced a lower relative gravity compared to the valley. It was used to simulate low-gravity bodies, such as moons. Zero-g and spaceflight training took place all the way up inside the axis.

Gideon had to try hard to keep up with Takomi. She had always been better at low-gravity locomotion. Today was especially hard, since she seemed to be trying to lose him before she reached the descender.

“Hold up,” said Gideon as she reached the lift. She rolled her eyes but held the door.

When they were both inside, she punched the button for the outer floor. The elevator moved down, and they floated in midair as gravity slowly pulled them toward the descending platform. Handholds provided a way to keep from drifting into the walls or other people due to the ship’s rotation.