Page 63

ADRIANA

“ S o this is it. This is what death looks like.”

My voice echoes in the bay deep within the Aurelian warship. The bay has a dry smell to it. It was in the original schematics of the ancient ship, which was built during the war against the Toads when the Planet-Killers obliterated entire sectors, bustling life swallowed out of reality itself.

It is no bigger than a Reaver, yet it is not a ship designed for yearlong journeys. Its design is like nothing I have ever seen, a slender rod, each line and curve without an ounce of wasted material to serve one purpose: focusing the power of the Orb into annihilation.

The cockpit is a claustrophobic space, built for a lone Aurelian pilot, each inch of it lethal precision.

It’s hard to tear my gaze away from the Orb powering it.

It is colossal, dwarfing any I could have dreamed of, a pulsating heart of raw, barely tamed energy that draws the gaze in.

The rhythm of the pulse scares me, like the beating heart of something alive, casting eerie shadows over the hangar bay, blue-black light reflecting strangely off the planes of Doman’s hard face.

Titus and Gallien stayed back. Gallien warned me not to go, and if I did, not to stare at the Orb any longer than I had to. Doman was reluctant. This very morning I woke up in an igloo surrounded by them, and the first thing I asked when we returned to his ship was to see what we were transporting.

It is one of two twin ships, the other outside of the Venator, protected by a fleet of Reavers, somewhere in the territories of Pentaris. If the Venator is destroyed, the second Planet-Killer will continue its mission.

Doman runs his hand over the white structure of the ship, touching it with a veneration that mirrors my awe, and turns towards me. “You saw it. Let’s leave.” He doesn’t like me being near it, as if the oblivion of its creation could seep into my soul.

“You’re going to use this. We’re going to use this. The moment I accepted your demands to enter our space, I became part of this.”

“If we don’t, we know what happens. The Toad Kingdom has a fleet of their own. They have had no qualms in testing them. And they would not hesitate to use them on Frosthold, to make the rest of your system bow to them.”

I glance over at the Orb. I can’t even tell how big it is. The edges are clearly defined, a perfect sphere without aberration, and yet, unless I am looking straight at it, the lines seem to move and shift.

Those bright blue eyes of his narrow into a hard glare. “You know what they will do. You know we have to stop it.”

“And what if Aeris was right? What if this sets into motion something there’s no coming back from?”

“Then it is better we do it than our enemies. We fulfill this test. The Toad king understands we have no limits. There can be no negotiation from a position of weakness.”

I smile, wistful. “I’ve had my fair share of being cornered into deals.”

He strides away from the weapon, standing over me, his bright eyes gleaming. “That’s why I brought a fleet to your borders before I made my demands. You might have been strong enough to resist the stick, but I knew your people would be blinded by greed.”

He takes my hand in his, pulling me towards the door. “You’re acting like it’s radioactive.”

He doesn’t speak until we’re on the other side, in the hallway guarded by triads, alert, older men who lived through the aftermath of the Galactic war, Aurelians who know the true power of the Planet-Killers.

“When you talk to my younger brother Cal on Colossus, he’ll give you a far more grim perspective.”

“What?”

“The Planet-Killers are for deterrence. I’ve studied this concept. Your ancestors were a case study, on Old Earth.”

“Nukes. You’re talking about the Oil Era. Nuclear power got us to the stars… but those bombs could have turned Old Earth into our tomb.” I shiver. “Imagine that. People with the power to end the world at the press of a button.”

“Nuclear weapons would have turned your world to a frozen wasteland. But these weapons… according to Cal, they could erase the universe itself. I don’t believe it. They’ve been used before, and we’re still here. But I can’t pretend there were no consequences.”

“Like what?”

He hesitates, and I know he’s not talking about the death tolls. “Our oldest records, pre-Galactic war. There are… anomalies. Inconsistencies we dismissed as errors in documentation. Cal thinks different.”

“What does he think?”

“He is convinced reality itself was altered. And that if we alter the threads too much, the very laws of the universe will collapse.”

I swallow, dry. “We’re playing as Gods.”

Doman stops. He stares through me for long seconds. I’ve never seen him so serious.

“Yes. And so are the demons we are up against.”