Echo

By John Arkham

An alien ship appears in the solar system, and rumors are brought to mind — rumors of the humans' ancient enemy, the Nemesis.
But regardless of the Nemesis' identity, another enemy endures — the Dominion, which Saturnine long ago sought to overthrow.
Book III of the Dominion series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Arkham
• Release date: Jul 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005519469

Book preview

Part One: War

Chapter One

Iratus, in the infirmary, was panting; his wounds it seemed were healed, but he had awoken from his sleep in terror. His body was covered head to toe in ointment; the battle with the dark Sorcerer Aiar had nearly cost him his life, but he had vanquished him at a great cost.

In a panic, in a daze, he frantically reached for his buzzer, for his buzzer that would call an attendant.

He was on what these rebels called the SMS Liberty, but his purpose was not here; his purpose was more than the Dominion — it was to defeat the Nemesis, but who was the Nemesis, who?

His sword was far from him, on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. How long had he been in this delirious state? How long had he been lying here, in this piteous situation? He did not know, but he knew he still had a mission—his purpose was not here, it was far.

The doors to the infirmary opened and a woman walked in, a woman with bright red hair, portly but healthy looking. Iratus recognized her as Kara.

Is there something you need? Kara said.

I—I—I have to get up. I need to leave.

I don’t think that’s wise, Kara said. Your body sustained terrible damage. You were on the brink of death when you got here.

My place, Iratus wheezed, is not here. It is not here… I must go elsewhere. You don’t understand…"

Calm yourself, Kara said, sleep. That’s an order. I’m charged with your care.

She did not understand, but Iratus was too tired to fight, too tired to argue. His battle with the dark Sorcerer Aiar had wounded him beyond belief; it had riven him, almost, in two. Aiar’s wounds had been worse; Aiar, the dark Sorcerer, was now dead.

My place is not here, Iratus wheezed. My place… it is not here…

~

In the world of dreams, he was a lion prowling the grasslands of the Palladian interior; he was hunting a wild therion, looking for a straggler in the back of the herd.

There was a weak therion not as fast as the others; as the herd took off, it was lingering behind, struggling to keep up, exerting itself to its fullest extent but making up precious little ground.

And Iratus sank his teeth into it, but as soon as he did the therion was transformed—it was not a therion at all, but a human being.

~

The infirmary was wonderfully cold, and when Iratus awoke the next time, he found he could breathe without pain. He was not all better, not fully recovered. He had used power beyond his capabilities; he had opened up wounds on his flesh. Yet this was not his place, not the infirmary, not the SMS Liberty.

He was one of the Maldorus, a Sorcerer; his concerns were beyond the Dominion. There was a battle looming, one he had not well prepared for.

<<Grab your sword.>> The voices of the wise old masters, who now indwelt him and had given him their power, seemed to echo at the worst possible moments. <<Prepare to leave,>> another continued. <<You cannot be long for here.>>

<<Don’t let the woman tell you no. Don’t ask for the woman’s permission. Get up and walk.>>

If only the wise old masters knew how Iratus really felt about them—well, perhaps they did.

He stood up, and the pain in his legs was faint. Gingerly, he got into his white robe; gingerly, he stepped over toward his sword, taking a deep breath.

He had a mission—to kill an enemy whose identity he did not know, the Nemesis, who according to the predictions of the Maldorus intended to destroy the universe as they knew it. But how would Iratus find the Nemesis, and how would he defeat him when he did? The combat with Aiar, a Sorcerer of lesser power than the Nemesis, had nearly cost Iratus his life.

Who is the Nemesis? he asked the wise old masters.

<.>>

Iratus sighed. He guessed the wise old masters wouldn’t be any more help.

He crossed the room and found he was adjusting to walking after many days on the sickbed, that though he wasn’t fully healed, that spring-like feeling was returning to his steps, and his mobility had mostly come back to him. He spun around, in the cold climate-controlled air of the infirmary. He ducked, then rose up again, and the pain in his ankles was only slight. And he took up his sword, grabbing it by the hilt, and gave it a swing, then two swings in swift succession.

And according to the suggestions of the wise old masters, he turned and headed toward the infirmary exits, not asking for his caretaker’s permission, or anyone’s permission. He was his own man, and he had a purpose, a purpose graver than anyone aboard the SMS Liberty knew.

The lift jetted upward; he was headed to the observatory deck, where he sensed the captain of the ship, Cruz Petroize, was. He would beg him for a starfighter, with a promise to return. He would beg him for a means to leave.

For his purpose was not here; it was not here, aboard the SMS Liberty, and his cause was not that of Saturnine but the rescue of the galaxy as they had known it.

The observatory deck was bright; before them was a planet breathtaking in size, a red gas giant with a yellow ring, the largest of the planets of the system, the mighty Urunao.

And Cruz was in a booth, and a woman was there across from him, and they were laughing—what was her name? Raven.

<<Turn on the machine,>> he heard a voice say, the voice of a wise old master.

What machine did they mean?

<<Turn it on!>> they said again, but Iratus was baffled.

And he felt the air change, and his own Will used against his own wishes, the telnet screen blinking into existence, and the news was on, a man sitting behind his desk with the Metropolis News Organization MNO ticker beneath him.

First contact? the ticker read, and just as it had clicked on without human help, the volume began to increase of its own accord, and gained the attention of everyone sitting in the observatory deck.

A fleet of starships have appeared on the edge of the System, said the anchor, whom Iratus remembered from his former life was named Val. Their make is uncertain, but we have made contact with the ships and friendly talk has been exchanged.

The telnet screen now showed an immense warship, something that looked half the size of a moon, a thing of jagged spires and turrets whose construction bore no resemblance to Terran crafts. Baleful was the sight of it, and floating in its midst were what looked like bugs, but on closer inspection were clearly machines.

<<Retrievers… you know what this means, don’t you Farah?>>

Look! said Cruz Petroize. More bugs from hell.

The telnet screen blinked away; now it showed the blue skies of Metropolis, the mighty domes and edifices of what Terrans called the Capitoline. And a man was there, a man with wispy white-blond hair, a man with clear blue eyes and a pallid complexion, dressed all in black—someone Iratus remembered from his former life, the consul of the Dominion, Gaius Marius.

Hello, Val, said Gaius Marius.

What can you tell us about these people? said Val.

I can tell you, Gaius Marius began, "that they come in peace, that they have made it clear to us that they mean the people of the System no harm.

They gave me their best wishes for my re-election as consul and even offered to help out, if that were possible.

There was an uncomfortableness behind Gaius Marius’ laugh.

We are not alone, then, said Val. We are not alone in the universe! I hope we can learn from this new civilization. An exchange of ideas and perhaps we can solve the age-old questions… how do we lengthen the human lifespan? How can we make interstellar travel reliable? How were the ancient Terrans able to initiate the process of terraforming?

You are totally right, Val, said Gaius Marius.

And there was a sense of fear deep in Iratus’ gut, a sense that things were totally amiss, and a deep sense, in his memory, that he or the wise masters that indwelt him had seen such a craft before, that he had witnessed these bugs called Retrievers, that the enormous ship that had entered into Dominion territory was the flagship of someone terrible, someone whose existence was a threat to all planetary life in the galaxy and beyond.

What is this? said the woman, Raven.

Before Quintus died, said the captain, Cruz Petroize, we intercepted a signal… a signal from deep space.

<<A signal? From where?>> Perhaps, Iratus would never quiet the voices of the wise old masters.

From where? Iratus spoke the question into existence.

Some 50,000 light years away…

<<It cannot be…>>

<>

<>>

Iratus would never have his mind to himself, as long as the wise old masters indwelt him.

Cruz Petroize, Iratus said, "I thank you and yours, from the bottom of my heart, for preserving my life.

But this is not my place… I have a mission… I have a goal that I must not be swayed from.

<> The voices of the wise old masters spoke, and he was silenced. <>>

I have a mission, Iratus said, "and my mission is to kill the one who lives in that great ship. My mission is to kill… to slay…

You must help me. You must help me!

You think we can overcome a ship like that? Raven said. It’s half as big as Meretrix.

Pardon Raven, said Cruz Petroize, "but she is right. Did you see that thing?

And all those bugs, those bugs from hell… we were almost destroyed, trying to kill just one of them.

<> The wise old masters wouldn’t stop giving Iratus advice, wouldn’t stop haranguing him. They would not leave him in peace.

My mission is important, Iratus said. The universe itself is at stake.

Perhaps, it is, said Cruz Petroize. "But it seems like you aren’t listening to what I’m saying.

"Look where you are! A frigate, a pretty standard frigate. The design code is an SRS-115.

And now, remember what that thing looked like? There’s no way we can overcome it. There are forty-two of us on board this ship.

So we need more, Iratus said, we need more to fight alongside us. We need more ships, we need more soldiers.

More ships, more soldiers, Cruz Petroize began. Why didn’t I think of that? All our problems can be solved, now! Just get more ships, more soldiers, and we’ll defeat the Dominion, and that alien ship as a bonus.

His sarcasm was not welcome, and Iratus began to walk away in defeat. He was filled with dread, filled with an inescapable anxiety. The enemy of the universe had arrived, presumably—and Iratus was sorely unprepared… he was unready and more and more, it seemed the enemy had already won.

~

Iratus was in his private quarters, staring out the window into space. They had drifted out of Urunao’s orbit and the stars were before him twinkling.

He felt a cool wind, a draft, and when he turned to look, he saw the medic there, the