The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) (30 page)

Stoakes was worried. For the first time, it looked like the Empire might be beat, but not in the conventional sense. Even if the current Shades were able to eliminate the indigenous giant reptiles, the Palace was cut off from the rest of the Empire and all its available resources, trapped millions of years in the past.

What made this a real problem was that his most recent reproduction of Ana Tain had expired during transit and now it was beginning to look like he would never have another. He humphed inwardly at how dependent he’d become on the Emperor’s little inducement. He was like an addict. Her presence hadn’t directly affected his choice to see the contract through—or at least he didn’t think it had—but she
had
had a profound effect on his general outlook. He still wasn’t proud of what he was doing for the Emperor, which was probably healthy, but being able to bury his face in Ana’s bosom and forget, at least for a short time, the ruin he was bringing to so many lives, his own included, enabled him to move forward.

Every day he found himself questioning his motives for honoring the contract. Was his word justification enough, or was it just an excuse? He didn’t know, but he still intended on taking the promised payment, and he certainly hadn’t refused Ana on any grounds, moral or otherwise. The truth was, he tried not to think about the truth. Ana made it so he didn’t have to. Except now she was gone and he might not ever get her back.

There’d been a plan, of course. Scanlan had solved the mystery of the time lens and had come up with the means to return them to the present, at least the theoretical means. Execution was another matter, though, and there wasn’t much Stoakes could do but wait.

He’d been thrown from his bunk when the first impact had altered the Palace’s approach during planetfall. Reflexively going Dark had saved him from being bounced around his cramped quarters, which in turn had saved his quarters from taking major damage. The bumpy landing, however, had crippled the attached gravity trainer. The block was cracked in two and last on the list of things that needed to be repaired or replaced. He supposed he could venture out into the Palace and use one of the public trainers, but the settings he required to get any kind of work out, more for nerves than anything else, would raise too many questions.

He sat in the low light of his quarters, watching the seconds tick away, feverishly hoping that Scanlan’s plan would work and that they would get it underway as soon as possible. The Tether Launch bay, still in perfect working order, taunted him, though. It dominated one wall and seemed to beckon constantly. Under other circumstances, he might use it to get away for a while, distract himself from the monotony of his own company, but now he felt like if he got too close to it, it would jettison him just in time to make a return to the present impossible. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t dismiss the thought. One day he would leave the Empire behind, but he wanted to do it when he was ready and on his own terms.

He’d had a holographic screen tuned to the video feed of Scanlan’s work site, but watching Scanlan was like watching the sun cross the sky, not knowing if or when it would ever set. Stoakes was too restless for that and had killed the feed.

Maybe he should try to sleep. He’d never be able to do it on his own, but the appeal of just skipping ahead, past this insufferable lull was potent. He could get enough narcotic to put him out for several hours, even a day or two, if he pleaded his case right.

“Attention, Palace personnel,” a calm, modulated female voice—it was Brin Karvasti’s, Stoakes knew—said over the Palace-wide public address system. “Do not panic. Stand by for temporary black out. Power transmission to commence in one minute.”

After pushing her power of suggestion through the Palace system, Karvasti needed to exert herself little to ensure that the normals would do as she said. Stoakes however, with the aid of his Artifact, was immune to this level of psychic tinkering.

He shook his head and snorted. “One minute?”

Briefly he thought about restoring the video feed, but that would be foolish. The very moment there would be something to see, he’d be without power to watch. He thought about going outside and then everything went black and still. Transmission.

Twenty seconds into blackness, the close room erupted with bright light. Stoakes chastised himself for starting at the holographic screen, and forced his heart to slow its gallop.

Witchlan hovered in the middle of the room like a ghost. He was already speaking, but Stoakes had missed the first of it.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Stoakes?”

“No sir, I did not,” Stoakes replied.

“I said that we have a situation on our hands,” he said rapidly, without patience.

“A situation, Minister?”

“Yes. You well know that we have established certain systems to monitor for your ever-present target.”

“Yes, Minister. And I recall you telling me that there was no target awaiting me at our next destination.”

“And yet here we are,” Witchlan said tersely.

Stoakes cocked his head. “Minister?”

Witchlan sighed. “There is and was nothing wrong with the monitoring apparatus. There was no signal when we left, no signal while in transit, no signal as we approached for planetfall just prior to our recently rectified time mishap.”

“Then we’re back in the present?” Stoakes said, interrupting.

“Yes, yes, yes. The Vine is even now mending. Our tether to the rest of the Empire has been restored. However, now that we are here, we are receiving the signal. I would say that the signal is strong, but given its proximity, that would be untrue. All diagnostics have come back positive, but the signal is barely registering even though its source is within a five kilometer radius of the Palace.”

A top-down map of glowing outlines replaced Witchlan’s image. Stoakes could see the Palace, the wrecked hulk of Gran Mal. Seven massive pillars were on one side of the Gran and another huge structure was on the other. From this other structure, a light waxed and waned as the specialized radar pulse from the Palace came and went.

“As you can see,” Witchlan continued, “she is very, very close.

“I’m not ashamed to say, Mr. Stoakes, that we are worried. We have come too far to encounter failure here, under these circumstances.”

Stoakes had been one of the 19th Generation Generals, had been very successful at his job, and was no fool, so it wasn’t fear or mere curiosity that prompted him to speak rather than take immediate leave without having to be asked. “You’ve ruled out equipment failure, and user error as well, I assume.”

Witchlan fairly barked his incredulity.

Stoakes nodded and pursed his lips, and kept talking to prevent the insult from sticking. “Do you know of any agent that might have been responsible for our failing to detect the subject?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” Witchlan said soberly. “And we must act quickly to counter it.”

“Explain.”

“Time, Mr. Stoakes. Time is—”

“Please, Minister.”

Again there was a pause. “This planet is saturated with radiation which cannot be natural and which is of an unquantifiable nature. It is like looking through murky water and has effectively masked the subject’s presence. Indeed, only her proximity is enabling us to read her even now. Beyond that, though, it is dangerous. It is breaking down the cell walls of the outer layers of Vine fiber insulating the Palace. All Shades will be particularly vulnerable while Dark, which is why you—why everyone—must hurry.”

“Yes, Minister.” Stoakes moved to his bunk and collected the Yellow Diamond Spectacles from the cubby set within the wall behind his pillow then stepped up to the Tether Launch tank.

“I fear that the Tether will not survive long enough to effect your return, Mr. Stoakes.”

Stoakes snorted quietly and nodded his understanding.

“This area seems to have the highest concentration of radiation,” Witchlan said. “If you can locate the source and eliminate it, you must do so.”

“Yes Minister.” Stoakes pulled his long, soft collar up over his nose and stepped into the tank. He completed the settings on his wrist controller, and the tank began to revolve, out to the open air.

“Do not fail, Mr. Stoakes. There may be nothing to return to if you do.”

Stoakes sighed, glad to be out of earshot of Witchlan’s voice once the tank locked into place. He stared through the holographic countdown timer into a gentle storm of green light. He immediately felt a weak strain of nausea creep into his stomach where it curled up and took residence. He went Dark to ensure the tether’s synchronization and felt his stomach lurch. Besides that, he felt, for the first time while girded by the power of his Artifact, completely vulnerable, as if he were naked and his skin was covered with biting insects.

The launch didn’t improve anything. It felt like the rush stripped away his skin, exposing every bit of the wet flesh beneath. He felt like a raw nerve blown and abraded by razor-sharp winds.

Abruptly, he found himself passing through a small, high-set window and in a gray-walled corridor with a floor of glossy black stone. There were dim lights at intervals, but the quiet that surrounded him felt like that of late night or early morning. He put the Yellow Diamond Spectacles to his eyes and had difficulty focusing through the green radiation that permeated even here. He’d fairly mastered the lenses, he thought, but this radiation was something new, something different, something that needed to cease if they were all to survive their return to the present.

Despite his difficulties, though, he saw that he was right. Most of the occupants of this structure—a fortress, actually—were asleep. He noted the Shades outside, most back near the Palace, all of them accounted for, along with their Grans. He could sense behind him something that hummed and seemed to breathe with life, but he couldn’t bring himself to look on it, not with the lenses. Instead, he squinted at the infinity whorl he’d learned to recognize long ago. She was in a room that faced what looked like a public square, where Gran Mal lie crippled. He could make out the pillars now, too, but they weren’t pillars at all. They were figures, machines with hearts that pumped and breathed the terrible green—

He tore the Yellow Diamond Spectacles from his face, unconsciously returning to normal and collapsing to his hands and knees as he did so. He panted for a moment, taking stock of his mind, and hoping against hope that insanity hadn’t breached the gates of his eyes. He pushed back and fell upon his buttocks on the floor. He swallowed hard and put the glasses into a pocket. He would not use them again. Ever.

Even as he struggled to clear his head, he was not unaware of footsteps approaching. They were heavy, accompanied by the creak of something like leather which bound either weapons or tools of metal. Stoakes felt comfortable that it was the former at this late hour and blindly swept his two-fingered Secret Sword Fist behind him. There was a guttural “urk”, followed by a hiss, then a wet pattering onto the polished floor, and finally the sound of something heavy thumping down.

Stoakes didn’t look. He stood slowly and straightened his charcoal-colored clothing. He reoriented himself to make sure he knew where his target was, went Dark again, and proceeded towards the subject’s room. The nausea had increased. So had the raw nerve sensation. First the girl, then the. . . whatever it was. Even if it was killing him, he didn’t fear facing the source of the green radiation, he just couldn’t abide
looking
at it, not with the Yellow Diamond Spectacles.

He wished Ana were waiting for him back at the Palace. But with the way he felt, he wondered if he’d actually make it back there.

There was a ruckus outside. Given the direction from which the sound came, Stoakes was pretty sure that the giant robots, for that is indeed what they were, were active now and on the move. No matter. He had to focus on the task at hand, and that was challenge enough right now.

He kicked off the floor and sped down the corridor, fighting the spinning in his head, and soon arriving at the door he sought. It wasn’t hermetically sealed, so he had little trouble squeezing through one of the gaps between door and frame. He passed through a simple foyer decorated with potted plants and colorful flowers into a large chamber. The opposite wall was a thick pane of glass looking out over the square and providing an excellent view of the seven giant robots, three of which were sprinting with earthquake steps straight for this room it seemed.

Two figures in nightgowns stood between Stoakes and the window. One of them, the one on the right, he knew, was his target. The other—the girl’s mother perhaps—didn’t matter. He hoped he didn’t have to kill her, but he wasn’t himself at the moment, and might not be able to count on his stealth to prevent detection. He crept up behind the more petite figure, making not a sound. He drew the Suicide Knife, placed the chisel point to her temple, and froze in place as Jav Holson was suddenly hovering before the window.

Holson’s hand was outstretched and, with what appeared to be the slightest contact with his palm, the glass shattered, pouring down like a transient waterfall, some of the splintered shards hitting the floor before spilling out into the green-lit night.

For a moment they regarded each other, neither moving. Both women had screams trapped in their throats, but the mother, if that’s what she was, noted that Holson, despite the threat he might be, was staring at something that wasn’t supposed to be in the room. The older woman turned to look, her lips parted and quivering.

Before she could give voice to her scream, Stoakes acted. He drove the blade into the girl’s temple and his left, underhand two-fingered Secret Sword Fist into the older woman’s throat. Her eyes went wide while the younger girl’s closed softly. Holson lurched forward once, then flashed into the room. Stoakes yanked his left hand free, giving release to a jet of blood. He shook most of the blood free with snap of his wrist, and started to ease the girl down to the floor, but Holson was already upon them, taking the girl by the shoulders to support her.