Alliance of Exiles Read online

  ALLIANCE

  OF

  EXILES

  ALLIANCE

  OF

  EXILES

  Caitlin Demaris McKenna

  BEACON, NEW YORK

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.

  SCORIA PRESS

  Beacon, New York

  Copyright © 2020 by Caitlin Demaris McKenna

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde Media

  Interior design by Lora Friedenthal

  Ornament graphic designed by rawpixel.com / Freepik

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.

  The Expansion Series

  Absence of Blade

  Shadow Game: An Expansion Universe Novella

  Table of Contents

  Start

  ALLIANCE OF EXILES

  Front Matter

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  INTERLUDE

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  EPILOGUE

  Bonus Story: Visible Elements

  Chapter One

  Shomoro held her breath as she watched the oversized ampule full of silver sludge descend from the ceiling of the test chamber. The observation gallery where she, Pri, and Water Dancer, the Rul project manager, stood was behind a span of reinforced spun diamond that encased the test chamber in an impenetrable bubble. Like a bubble within a bubble, a full-size mockup of a standard airlock crouched in the test chamber—well, not exactly a standard airlock, Shomoro amended: not after the modifications their science team had made to its seals and joins. Now they were about to see if those modifications served their purpose.

  The dummy airlock accepted the syringe through a port in its top. A moment later, a glistening stream of nanites spread into the airlock, rendered visible by pre-applied chemical tags.

  Shomoro’s heart seemed to push up into her throat as the stream expanded into a silvery cloud, seeking the edges of the chamber without a breeze to propel it.

  Two layers of spun diamond separated her team from the nanite-filled airlock. Defensive nozzles in the ceiling of the larger test chamber and observation gallery were primed, ready to spray any escaping nanites with liquid nitrogen to arrest their catabolic processes. And, perhaps the greatest precaution of all: The nano they were using for the test was basically inert. It had never been programmed. For all intents and purposes, it shared only a name with the nanovirus that had destroyed Za.

  Still, she did not dare to breathe until several seconds had passed without an alarm sounding. By this time, the air in the dummy airlock appeared totally clear, until a tilt of her head revealed a faint sheen. The sample of Fate’s Shears had dispersed evenly throughout the small space.

  “Computers confirm one hundred percent containment.”

  The flat tone of Water Dancer’s translator startled her, the artificially generated Bask too loud in the quiet lab. The Rul turned from the console’s readout, moving on bulbous ambulatory pods. “I’m ready to sign off on the success of our defensive modifications.”

  Shomoro heard the question behind the inflectionless words: And you? This was their fifth successful test of the modified airlocks’ ability to contain weaponized nano. Water Dancer had been ready to proclaim success after three, but Shomoro and Pri had been more conservative, had wanted more tests.

  The problem with nanoweaponry was you were never dealing with one thing: It could change itself, evolve to overcome new challenges; defeating it was less an engineering problem and something closer to immunology.

  “We need to run more tests,” Shomoro said, aware she sounded like a glitchy recording. But she would not budge on this.

  “You always say that,” Water Dancer said. In exasperation, she slapped a pod on the console. “We have the tests. We’ve known for months the vault’s seals can contain Fate’s Shears.”

  “Yes. Inactive Fate’s Shears.” Shomoro pointed at the chamber. “The virus in there is toothless. I could breathe it in all day and it wouldn’t harm me. It’s not that Fate’s Shears I’m worried about containing.”

  «We can run additional tests on the liquid nitrogen delivery systems next day cycle,» Pri put in, gently squeezing Shomoro’s shoulder. Her teardrop-shaped head swung between Shomoro and Water Dancer. «Until then, perhaps we should all take a break.»

  Water Dancer rustled her pods in what Shomoro had learned was the Rul equivalent of a shrug. The three of them exited the chamber into the research complex’s lobby, an oval atrium of polished cream ceramic. Offices lined the higher mezzanines, which echoed with the chatter and traffic of half a dozen species—other researchers about their business. Speech flicked across Water Dancer’s pods in somber reds and oranges, letting Shomoro know the Rul was still feeling a bit sulky. “Shall I tell the Council what progress we’ve made, at least?”

  Shomoro was about to offer to make the report herself—a peace offering—when she saw Daikar across the lobby. His back was to her as he admired, or at least stared at, an elegant display of native Teluk foliage behind glass that formed one of the two curving walls defining the lobby. He must have seen her in its reflection because he turned, the scar under his right eye twisting as he grimaced.

  Her stomach tightened; Daikar almost never forced a smile.

  When he did, it was usually because he had bad news.

  His gaze flicked down. She followed it automatically and glimpsed him sign, down by his side, We have to talk.

  “Hold that thought,” Shomoro said to Water Dancer, and indicated Daikar with a wave she hoped didn’t look as tense as it felt.

  The three of them crossed the lobby to Daikar. “What is it?” Shomoro said quietly.

  “I’ll tell you when we’re back home,” Daikar said. His gaze flicked between her, Pri, and Water Dancer, the white pupils in his black eyes narrowing. “All of you.”

  The Teluk High Council had given the three members of her alliance spacious apartments built into the rock of Anmerresh’s middle terraces. The whole city sprawled within the ring wall of a massive extinct caldera, its uppermost heights towering perhaps a thousand meters above the coast of the An Sea. As the elevation increased, Anmerresh’s builders had engineered livable space out of increasingly sheer rock walls by means of artificial terracing; huge locks extended the reach of the lower city’s canals to the terraces, though those who wanted to reach the caldera’s summit had to be content with cable cars or flyers.

  Shomoro turned her gaze from the large window in the living area of Daikar’s apartment. It looked out on a small, sculpted water garden, an echo of the large public gardens a couple terraces above. The shades were drawn so only a sliver of the outside was visible, casting the room in the dim amber glow Osk preferred. But this time, the familiar light level was failing to calm her. Nor did the cu
p of spiceleaf tea—real spiceleaf, for being in the Council’s employ had its advantages—do its job.

  Even so, she clutched its warm comfort closer as Daikar finally turned from the wall’s food console, another steaming cup in his hand. He tumbled more than sat into one of the two Osk-style chairs in the room, setting the cup harder than was necessary on the table between them. Taking it as a cue, Shomoro took the other chair. As usual, Pri and Water Dancer stood, their radial arrangements of legs and ambulatory pods respectively providing more solid bases than any chair.

  “I got a report from the High Council’s Intelligence division,” Daikar said. “The section we’ve been working with for these last few months.”

  Shomoro straightened in her seat. “Was it about Mose Attarrish?” For the past few months, the Council’s intelligence had been tracing what data there was on his movements; they’d already been able to identify his probable location between missions. Perhaps this was another breakthrough.

  Daikar snatched up his cup and gulped from it. She wondered if he’d ordered spiceleaf or something stronger. “Yes, it was about Mose.” He set the cup down carefully. “He’s coming here. To Teluk.”

  The tightness in her gut was back, this time reaching up her throat. “Does Intelligence have a . . . probable target?”

  Daikar looked at the table. “The Council’s probably messaged your apartment by now, but I wanted to be the one to tell you. I’m sorry, Shomoro.”

  She’d forgotten the cup in her hand. Her fingers loosened in shock, and spiceleaf tea splashed across the table. A tail of amber liquid oozed toward her on the pitted wood; Shomoro knew she should move out of the way, but she sat frozen. It had almost reached the edge when Pri laid a cloth over the spill and mopped it up.

  «What channel did the intelligence come from?» Pri asked Daikar, even as her side-facing eye lingered on Shomoro in concern. «Passive or intercept?»

  “Intercept.” He bundled up the soiled cloth and tossed it into the wall’s cleaning receptacle. “Stone’s team.”

  Their words skated by Shomoro, seeming muffled, as though the outside world were locked away behind a pane of ice. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this; she was supposed to be hunting Mose Attarrish, not the other way around. But now the seph - killer had her in his sights—and above him, the entire hidden architecture of the Project they’d uncovered in the last few months, with its own intelligence and agents embedded on Terran-hostile worlds, its tendrils reaching far past the Expansion Front. The Project, whose sole purpose was finding and killing sephs like her, and the weapon they’d made to do it, had found her at last. Part of her was surprised it had taken this long.

  Water Dancer’s pods had remained their default purplish green, the Rul equivalent of listening attentively. Now they lit with vermilion flashes of agitation. “What’s going on?” her translator followed a beat later. “Is Shomoro in danger?”

  Daikar let out a slow breath. “Not if we’re careful. I pulled you into this meeting because we may have to take precautions that will affect your research. Shomoro may have to go to ground for a while.”

  “I don’t understand,” Water Dancer said. “Who is this Mose Attarrish?”

  Daikar spoke as though each word were made of glass, to be handled with utmost care. “When Shomoro and I met on Skraal, it came to our attention that someone was targeting former Za sephs . To be blunt, we were about to recruit another seph when he was killed—stabbed to death. I identified Mose’s scent on his victim’s personal effects.” His voice went lower toward the end, miring in the memory.

  Pri gently took over. «We recently learned an Expansion paramilitary outfit called Project: ShadowStalker has been running Mose. Teluk Intelligence has been primed for any data on either coming through our channels. Doubtless how they picked up on this so quickly.»

  At last, Shomoro found her voice. “How much time do we have?”

  A small, appraising frown crossed Daikar’s face. “That’s the good news. It seems the Project isn’t ready to move on this for at least a few months. They have to establish their sensor infiltration around Teluk and make contact with Stone’s team to set up Attarrish’s safe house.”

  Shomoro acknowledged this with a jab of her snout. Thinking over the logistics calmed her; they could use the time to prepare their own defenses. She would not have to face this alone.

  She had Daikar and Pri and Water Dancer, and the resources and intelligence of the High Council. Those were advantages none of Attarrish’s prior targets had had . . . except perhaps Gau Shesharrim. And Attarrish hadn’t exactly come out on top in that battle.

  “So Teluk Planetary Security has some lead time,” Water Dancer said. “I assume they’re moving aggressively on this?”

  A thought occurred to her; Shomoro voiced it before Daikar could answer the Rul. “You’re sure it’s me they’re after?”

  Shomoro waved a hand at Pri. “The Project might have traced you here. Perhaps they hope you’ll lead them to Gau, or other Za sephs hiding on Teluk. I doubt Daikar and I are the only ones.”

  But Daikar was already drawing his hand through the air in negation. “Stone was clear about that. The Project mentioned your name, and only your name.”

  Shomoro’s shoulders sank. Pri wrapped a tendril around them. «Besides,» she sent, her voiceless voice underlaid with sympathy, «even if it was another seph , would you forfeit the chance to take the Project’s weapon away from it?»

  Turquoise sparkles of curiosity lit Water Dancer’s pods.

  Daikar’s pupils dilated a fraction in interest. “What are you suggesting, Pri?” he asked.

  «I’m suggesting we may be able to do more than fend off Mose Attarrish,» she said. «In fact, this may be our best chance to recruit him.»

  Evening had passed into a velvety Teluk night by the time the four of them received the summons to Anmerresh’s small Council chamber. The Teluk High Council had its headquarters in Opella, the planet’s capital city, but maintained smaller offices and meeting rooms in every major city on Teluk. The one in Anmerresh followed what Shomoro had come to recognize as the general pattern: an unassuming, almost cozy chamber in an impressive location—in this case, a windowless box jutting out from one sheer green side of the extinct caldera, reachable only by cable car or flyer. The terminus platform, cantilevered out from the side of the building, hung a hundred meters higher than the highest buildings of the upper city.

  “It almost makes me wish I didn’t see so well at night,” Daikar said as the four of them exited their cable car for the door at the platform’s end. As he always did, he’d made a point of not looking out the windows on their ascent.

  “Maybe we can ask Yurll and Whalg-General to hold the next meeting in the vault.” Shomoro placed her finger in the biometric scanner. It beeped, and the door slid open to reveal a short hallway.

  “That’s not better,” Daikar said. His tone was indignant on the surface, but under it she recognized the real purpose of the small talk. To distract her, give her some peace from the thoughts he knew were whirring away inside.

  Riverine light spilled into the hall as the chamber doors opened. The meeting room was cylindrical, topped with a cupola of aquamarine and turquoise glass, and smelled like the ocean. The salt scent came from the spacious Baskar saltwater tank across the room.

  Its usual occupant poked his blue metallic snout over the side. “Come in.”

  Whalgyravalakteluktassim, known to non-Baskar by his military title of Whalg-General, waved them inside with one hooked black claw. Half a dozen generic block chairs were scattered around the nearer half-circle of the chamber. As Shomoro and Daikar took seats, Whalg-General pressed a hidden button in his tank and a platform unfolded from the inner wall.

  The Baskar shot out of the water with as much seeming effort as it would have taken Shomoro to ascend a step, and alighted the mass of locomotor tentacles that formed the lower half of his body upon the platform. Water streamed from the Baskar’s form, w
hich was a solid cone of muscle sheathed in metallic blue skin.

  “Please make yourselves comfortable,” Whalg-General said, shaking droplets off his swept-back ear wedges. “Councilor Yurll should be joining us in a minute.”

  It was more like a few minutes by Shomoro’s automatic estimate when the Arashal councilor swept in. She and Daikar stood automatically in deference (Pri and Water Dancer, of course, were already standing), and inclined their heads. Yurll returned the bows, the purple crest on her sleek head glinting in the marine light.

  “Apologies.” She hit another concealed button on the wall with a fist. “I was going over your research team’s latest report and was delayed.” What looked like a sculpture of twisted SimuWood and metal three meters tall rose out of the floor. It was Yurll’s seat; the Arashal councilor’s frame was too massive to be accommodated by even a generic chair.

  Seated, Yurll looked at Pri, Water Dancer, and Shomoro.

  “You’ve made excellent progress on the nanobaffles for the vault.”

  “«Thank you,»” Pri and Shomoro said together.

  Water Dancer echoed them a beat too late. “We could be more aggressive with our targets,” she added. “I made some recommendations in the report.”

  Yurll acknowledged this with a wave. “Be that as it may, your research is not what Whalg-General and I summoned you to discuss.”

  The Baskar councilor took that as his cue. “This is what we know. At 22:30 Anmerresh time, Stone’s cohort was contacted by Project: ShadowStalker. From what we’ve uncovered about the Project over the years, the Council has been expecting something like this for a while and took steps to ensure we had agents in place. That decision seems to be paying off.”

  Yurll took over. “The transaction was brief—basically an estimated date and time of arrival, plus the target’s name.”

  “Me,” Shomoro said. As though there could possibly be any doubt, after the Council had disrupted its daily schedule to call this briefing. Yurll inclined her head in silent answer.