The Tabit Genesis (39 page)

Five Years Earlier

‘Augustus,’ Katrin Tyrell said. ‘I’m leaving.’

Days of grieving had left her eyes red and swollen. Friends helped her stand from the pew, but Augustus said nothing, even as they led her away. He had no comfort to offer. Instead, he kept staring at the back of Jake’s uniform. The young man had been kneeling before the casket for an hour. The Tabit Prime chapel had emptied long before.

The Orionis government had provided a state funeral with full military honours for his daughter and unborn grandson. No one from OPCOM attended, as they were busy patrolling the Belt in search of the scum that had murdered her several days earlier. There wasn’t much to ‘bury’. Just a bloodstained piece of metal and a shred of hair: all that could be recovered of the shuttle that had been carrying Danna before it was destroyed by a Ceti bomb. The casket would be set adrift on a symbolic course for Earth. Before it reached the orbit of Ares, it would disintegrate from the heat of the Orionis sun.

And then, all that would be left of his daughter’s life was Jake. His proud son-in-law. The son he always wished he had, until he lost Danna.

Augustus couldn’t have asked for a finer man to marry his daughter. He had hated him at first, of course. Nearly threw him in the brig on learning Danna was pregnant, and this was in spite of the fact that he was already at the top of every ranked competition and skill set in the Navy – as a
recruit
. And then less, when he established himself as one of the most promising cadets ever to graduate from the academy. ‘Gifted’ was an understatement. Jake was a superior marksman, unbeaten in close quarters combat, and possessed superb detective skills.

And he was polite to an absurd extent. The man could beat down anyone in the Navy but acted like a sheep in front of him. Jake was the classic gentleman, and it was impossible not to like him. For Augustus to say that about anyone was a first.

Katrin was fond of him as well. Jake was the first thing they had agreed on in decades. Katrin and Augustus had stayed together, as firstborns tend to do, no matter how bad the marriage. She did her thing. Augustus did his.

But without Danna, there was nothing left for them at all.

Augustus stood, looking around to make sure no one was left. The chapel guards, normally posted inside at the entrance, had taken up their positions outside.

He walked to Jake.

‘How long are you going stay on your knees?’

Jake, his face moist and sullen, didn’t move.

‘Tears won’t bring her back, boy,’ Augustus said. ‘Move on from it.’

Augustus encouraged his military peers to prepare for loss. To survive in Orionis, they had to learn to compartmentalise it.

‘
Hey!
’ he shouted, giving Jake a hard shove. ‘I’m talking to
you
!’

Jake jumped.

‘Don’t you get it?’ Augustus demanded, grabbing him with both hands. ‘This is what they want! Don’t give in to it!
Get up! Stand on your own feet!
’

His son-in-law was confused. Incredulous. Still grieving for his wife and unborn son.

‘You are
not
beaten!’ Augustus shouted.

The lad had the skills. Now he had the motivation. He was going to win this war no matter what it cost.

‘Are you prepared to do what is necessary?’ Augustus demanded.

Jake turned away. Augustus bent to talk into his ear.

‘
Justice
,’ he growled, ‘is the only way you’ll ever move past this.’

Jake stood up straight. Took one last look at the casket.

‘Tell me what I have to do,’ he said.

Present Day

Throbbing pain spread across his face and neck, waking him from the dream.

His last memory was of speaking to Jake, hearing his voice for the first time in years. Realising he should have been proud to call him a son all this time.

Accepting that he had ruined the man for nothing.

His wrists and ankles were bound, his back was resting against a black bulkhead, his eyes coming to focus on a shiny onyx deck.

Lifting his head, he noticed someone else sitting across from him, also bound. Vronn.

‘Are you hurt?’ Augustus croaked.

The Gryphon pilot shook his head. Motioned with his eyes to warn Augustus they weren’t alone.

A thin silhouette was facing a spectacular view of the Milky Way. It was Grand Admiral Vadim Hedricks. He was not restrained.

‘You …’ Augustus said. ‘What have you done?’

‘I am imprisoned, just like you and Lieutenant Vronn.’

‘Bullshit,’ Augustus snapped. ‘You’re a traitor.’

The admiral acted surprised.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he demanded.

‘You let them into the Inner Rim—’

‘When I believed I had the upper hand, of course.’

‘You ordered the Gryphons to attack the
Gettysburg
.’

‘When I didn’t know which of my admirals had abandoned me.’

‘You didn’t attack Ceti when you had the chance!’

‘When the
Archangel
’s weapons failed after her first jump.’

‘You let them fucking land!’

‘When I no longer had control of this ship.’

Augustus spat.

‘You’re under arrest,’ he said. ‘On suspicion of committing treason against Orionis and mankind. You have the right to—’

‘I look forward to my day before a judge,’ Vadim said. ‘Make it a show trial. Let the secrets spill forth and may every highborn tremble in fear.’

‘You’ll answer for this,’ Augustus said. ‘One way or the other.’

‘We will
all
answer,’ Vadim said. ‘The bell tolls for Orionis. We swore oaths to men that never honoured one themselves. That will not do, for the people who took the
Archangel
. Don’t you see? This ship belongs to men like Wyllym Lyons. Not highborns. They’ll kill every man in uniform, saving us for last. Look …’

Vadim walked over and heaved Augustus upright.

‘There,’ he said, pointing towards the Milky Way.

Just below the galactic centre was a teeming mass of bodies floating listlessly against the hull of the
Archangel
. Augustus estimated there were dozens, perhaps hundreds. All were dressed in Navy uniforms.

‘Every single one a firstborn,’ Vadim said. ‘I imagine a similar fate awaits us. Though Lieutenant Tarkon may be spared. Cerlis has more favour among ghosts than you or I do.’

He turned towards Vronn, who said nothing.

‘She’s out there, now,’ Vadim said. ‘Looking for you in the wreckage. It’s remarkable, the tenacity of maternal instincts. The bond between mother and son is the strongest in creation. Do you know what the second strongest is? Brotherhood
.
The
human
brotherhood.’

Twenty-Five Years Earlier

The
Pantheon
was a Keating-class corvette in name only. Beneath its Navy white and grey hull, she was faster, stronger, and more powerful than any other corvette in the fleet. As the ordained successor to the ailing Grand Admiral Franz Hedricks, Captain Vadim Hedricks was afforded the best technology that money could buy.

Vadim intended to leave Corinth alone. But he was intercepted by his relentless shadow, Lieutenant Jang Lao, the man appointed by his father to be his bodyguard. Thirty-six hours and a quarter billion kilometres later, they were inside the Echo Ring of the Inner Belt, where the largest and thickest concentration of asteroids was. Besides being treacherous to navigate, the area had increasingly become the site of Ceti ambushes.

Whenever the
Pantheon
flew, Navy escorts launched to accompany it. Losing them was no easy feat for Vadim, requiring a combination of skill and pulling rank. By now the officers assigned to his protection were on the verge of panic, and the fleet would soon be coordinating their efforts to find him.

But for Vadim, the risk was worth taking. More importantly, he was the only one who could.

Just beyond the
Pantheon
’s bridge, a large asteroid rotated into view, matching the navigation coordinates he had been given. A Ceti corvette was affixed to its surface, with her running lights turned off.

Its name was the
Aria Black
.

‘Sir,’ Lieutenant Lao insisted, blocking the exit from the bridge. ‘I can’t allow you to go out there.’

‘Lieutenant, step away from the hatch,’ Vadim said. ‘That’s an order.’

‘I swore to your father – we all did,’ Lao said. ‘You’re putting your life and the Navy succession in danger.’

‘My oath is to Orionis, not my father,’ Vadim said. ‘If I’m gone longer than thirty minutes, assume the worst. This is the only chance I have to end a war before it begins.’

Vadim leaned forward and grabbed the lieutenant’s shoulder.

‘No one can learn about this, Lao,’ he said. ‘And if anyone does, I wouldn’t want to be you.’

He left the bridge, pulling himself towards the gunship hatch in the rear of the ship. The lieutenant was close behind.

‘This is treason,’ he said.

‘No,’ Vadim said, entering the cockpit. ‘It’s
courage
.’

He shut the hatch and settled into the controls.

As the craft detached from the
Pantheon
, its radar immediately picked up the
Aria Black
. Following the instructions he received, Vadim landed his craft on the corvette’s docking collar. When the airlock had pressurised, he could hear classical music playing from the other side.

Vadim checked his weapon, a railgun that fired a seven-millimetre poisoned hollow point. The tiny weapon was concealed on the inside of his sleeve. He was ‘advised’ to come unarmed, but his instincts said otherwise. The stakes were too high.

Vadim swung the hatch open. And there, waiting for him, was Vladric Mors.

‘Captain,’ the Ceti leader said, bowing slightly. ‘Welcome. Please, right this way.’

Vadim followed.

‘Have much trouble sneaking away?’ Vladric asked.

‘Nothing that wasn’t anticipated,’ Vadim answered, admiring the artwork adorning the wood panel bulkheads. He was led into a cabin that resembled a seventeenth-century stateroom.

‘Thank you for leaving your weapon behind,’ Vladric said, motioning for him to take a seat. ‘I know it took a leap of faith. Your Navy colleagues are searching for you. I estimate we have thirty minutes before they make contact. I hope we reach an understanding by then.’

‘It was bold of you to ask me to come here,’ Vadim said. ‘I can’t say why I agreed.’

‘As in, unable to articulate why?’ Vladric asked. ‘Or because your oath prevents you?’

‘I’m here because I want to avoid a war,’ Vadim said. ‘I know what you’re doing. I’ve seen the change in tactics. Where your ships are patrolling. And I know that Zeus’s present position relative to Corinth makes Brotherhood especially vulnerable to an attack.’

‘A fact no doubt recognised by your peers,’ Vladric said, beaming a smile. ‘The question is, do they believe we’ll try?’

‘No.’

‘But you do. Which is why you’re here.’

Vadim studied his arch-enemy. He wanted to hate this man. Vladric Mors had murdered civilians, Navy personnel, highborn officers, men Vadim’s own father relied on. And yet, there was something about him, a charisma that contradicted his reputation as a monster.

‘What has to happen to avoid conflict?’ Vadim asked.

‘Do you speak on behalf of the Navy and Orionis?’ Vladric asked.

‘I am a person of considerable influence in those domains, yes.’

Vladric leaned forward, and his pleasant demeanour transformed to that of a stern, hard man.

‘Because you’re a
Hedricks
,’ he said.

It was an uncanny imitation of his father.

‘Does that amuse you?’ Vadim asked, his face reddening.

‘No,’ Vladric said. ‘Just clarifying I understand the source of your “influence”. Carry on.’

‘There is nothing more to say,’ Vadim said. ‘I contacted you because I believe you can be reasoned with.’

‘I knew you would contact me,’ Vladric said. ‘And you know there is nothing anyone can do to stop me.’

‘Then what is it you want?’ Vadim demanded.

‘Brotherhood,’ Vladric answered.

Vadim laughed.

‘The station?’

‘And brotherhood for mankind.’

‘I suppose I’ve wasted my time,’ Vadim said, standing up. ‘Good luck.’

‘What’s the real reason that brought you here?’ Vladric asked. ‘You know you can’t dissuade me. It had to be more than just … intuition, right?’

Vadim paused.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You’re a Hedricks,’ Vladric said. ‘Born with disabilities and disease. A lowborn with your afflictions would have been tossed into a slush tank. But you are your father’s
son
. He invested so much restoring you to his expectations, didn’t he?’

Vadim tried to salvage something from this visit.

‘I have a list of personnel accused of crimes against Orionis,’ he said. ‘Extradite them and I’ll push to allow Ceti to lease space on Brotherhood once construction—’

Vladric interrupted him.

‘It wasn’t your name or cybernetics that got you to where you are,’ he said. ‘It was something else. You can read people, you know their intentions. Your instincts are a
Gift
. And they led you to me. Why? Because it runs in the family.’

‘What?’

Vladric smiled.

‘My mother had fair skin, like yours. Dark hair, like yours. Eyes like yours, before your father had them augmented. She was very beautiful. Strong, but kind. Nurturing. As every mother should be.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘No other species stays at the breast as long as humans do,’ Vladric said. ‘The memory of our mothers stays with us. May I guess the year yours died?’

With a flick of his wrist, Vadim drew his weapon from his sleeve.

‘What a shame,’ Vladric said. ‘I guess you don’t trust me after all. And yet you still came all this way to make peace. Your mother died in 2712. Or to be precise, that was the year she disappeared. Old Franz was so disappointed, wasn’t he?’

‘Shut up,’ Vadim warned.

‘What did the Navy tell you?’ Vladric persisted. ‘Is she still officially a “missing person”? Well, I’m sorry to inform you, but your mother was a murder victim.’

‘Shut your mouth!’ Vadim shouted.

‘She died on a ship called
The Baxley,’
Vladric said. ‘Right before my very eyes, she starved to death. Your father told you, what … she decided on her own not to return? Did he cite irreconcilable differences as well? At least that wasn’t a lie.’

‘I’m going to count to three,’ Vadim said, tightening his grip on the pistol.

Vladric raised both hands over his head.

‘Franz Hedricks: Captain of the Tabit Genesis, architect of Orionis society,’ Vladric said. ‘All he ever wanted was a firstborn son to take his place in history.’

‘One …’ Vadim said, taking aim.

‘All your mother wanted,’ Vladric continued, taking a cautious step forward, ‘was a child that would survive. Was that such a horrible crime?’

Vadim flicked the safety off.

‘Two,’ he said, through gritted teeth.

‘To Franz Hedricks, it was unforgivable,’ Vladric said, slowly kneeling, his arms still raised overhead. ‘Losing you was not an option. To put his genetic legacy into a machine … this was sacrilege. The Hedricks name would not be carried on by a
ghost
. And he vowed to never allow his firstborn son to learn of his mother’s disgrace.’

Vadim tried to say the word ‘three’. But he couldn’t.

‘I have not lied to you,’ Vladric said. ‘I can’t prove your father was responsible for making sure
The Baxley
couldn’t land. But
you can
, and when you do,
please
… we need closure.’

Slowly, Vladric rose and stepped away from the gun.

‘Let me show how I know these things,’ he said, rolling up his sleeve. Then he withdrew a curved blade from behind his back. Vadim took aim. But Vladric put the blade to his own forearm and sliced deeply.

A stream of crimson globules emerged from the wound, scattering throughout the stateroom.

Vladric pushed himself behind the hatch frame of the adjacent compartment.

‘Take some back with you,’ he said. ‘It’s yours as much as my own.’