Armageddon (59 page)

A
tton couldn’t contain himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to sit down. Instead he stood in the cockpit, watching over his father’s shoulder as Ethan flew the
Trinity
back to the Icosahedron. He was going to join Ceyla as one of the Immortals in the real Etheria!

It seemed too good to be true, but there was a catch. Ceyla hadn’t forgiven him before she died. Would she forgive him now, in Etheria?

“She already has,” Etherus said, interrupting Atton’s thoughts, and proving that like Omnius, he could read people’s minds.

Atton frowned. This seemingly normal man standing beside him was
Etherus.
But what was he really? If Etherus could read his thoughts, then Atton supposed there was no point keeping them to himself.

“You created us, but did you also create the universe?” he asked. “What are you? You said you’re an Immortal?”

“When you get to Etheria, you’ll already know all the answers to those questions.”

Atton shook his head at the non-answer and went back to gazing out the forward viewport. The Icosahedron shone as bright as a mirror reflecting the sun. Twenty flat, angular sides faced out in an approximation of a sphere, collecting solar energy from Avilon’s sun. With no frame of reference it was easy to forget how large that spheroid was, but Atton could just barely see Avilon peeking through the
tear
in that artificial shell. The planetary surface appeared as a river of lights, glowing orange like magma, the Icosahedron the crust.

Atton remembered the battle raging over Avilon and suddenly he wondered if that orange light came from the cities or the blazing infernos now consuming them.

What had happened to all the drone fighters when they’d been disabled? Had they simply fallen from the sky? And what about the Gors, humans, and Sythians who’d come to conquer Avilon?

“The Sythians are gone,” Etherus said. “Omnius killed them all before they could escape. The drones were disabled, but the virus recalled their fighters to the Icosahedron via autopilot.”

“And the Gors?”

“Most of them died, too.”

“Did any of them have souls? The Sythians or the Gors?” Alara asked, turning from the copilot’s station.

“They were the instigators of the Great War, and their punishment was to go on living in the galaxy they destroyed. They were neither imprisoned nor linked. Over time they evolved into what they are now as a consequence of the worlds they lived on.”

“What will happen to them now?” Atton asked.

“Some of them redeemed themselves by joining the fight against Omnius, and they will be coming to live with you all on the New Earth.”

Atton saw his father cast a worried look over his shoulder. “There are going to be Sythians and Gors living with us?”

“Only the good ones.”

“They mass-murdered us!” Ethan said.

“There is a difference between being forced to do something because of circumstances, and doing something because you want to. War makes everyone do terrible things.”

Atton grimaced, thinking about some of the terrible things he’d been made to do because of circumstances. “What about the drones?”

“They are not sentient. The humans they once were have either returned to Etheria or they’re waiting to be resurrected now.”

Just two options. Alive in Etheria or soon to be ressurected on the New Earth. Suddenly Atton realized what that meant. “So no one is really dead? They’re all coming back? Mass-murderers and warmongers alike?”

“I believe in redemption, Atton. That is why I am called the Redemptor, but for those who are beyond rehabilitation, there are plenty of Nightstalkers and other beasts to link them to.”

Atton saw his father abruptly turn from piloting to face them. “Nightstalkers? They have souls?”

Etherus nodded. “Some of them, yes.”

That’s why they took us to that chamber. They remembered where the entrance to the Netherworld was.”

“Nightstalkers are relatively unintelligent, but in retrospect I believe they were trying to dig a way into the Netherworld and free themselves. In taking you there they may have hoped you would open the door for them.”

That got Atton wondering about something. “What about Omnius? He must have been sentient. You told him there was still a chance for him, right before I shot him.”

“Don’t tell me that he’s coming back…” Ethan said.

“I was giving him a chance so he could be brought to justice, and take responsibility for his actions, but I knew he wouldn’t take it. I also knew that Atton would redeem himself when he realized Omnius might be allowed to live. He shot Omnius even before he realized who I was and that I could bring Ceyla back, too. That proved he was only ever on Omnius’s side because he didn’t think he had a choice. It was a test for Atton’s benefit, to ease his conscience after everything he did and allowed to happen.”

Atton nodded to himself, watching as the Icosahedron drew near. Shooting Omnius definitely had made him feel better.

“Did he have a soul?” Atton asked.

“He used to, back when he was known as Kain Markonis.”

“Kain Markonis?” Ethan asked.

“They never told you. It would have done too much to undermine Omnius’s claims to deity if anyone knew, but the controlling mind in the collective was actually Neona’s father. He was executed for murder in the old Avilonian Empire. It was illegal to resurrect him under those circumstances, so Neona used as much of him as she could and brought him back as Omnius. She assumed she’d successfully removed the murderer in him, but all she did was bury it deeper. They planned to rule Avilon together, with him as the overt ruler and her as his covert accomplice. Their intentions were initially good, albeit misguided, but they used the ends to justify the means so often that eventually nothing seemed wrong to them anymore.”

“Wow…” Alara breathed.

Atton shook his head. “No wonder Omnius did all the things that he did. He was always a killer.” Turning to Etherus, he asked, “When will I get to see Ceyla?”

“As soon as everyone else has learned the truth.”

Atton tried to imagine how long it would take Etherus to explain to trillions of people everything that he’d explained to them. The answer he came up with was disheartening at best.

“You might be surprised,” Etherus said. “While we were on Origin, I disabled the jamming field, and in just a moment I’m going to wake
all
of the souls. When I do, everyone will know everything. After that, all that will be left is for people to see the Netherworld with their own eyes, but those pilgrimages will take a lot of time, and they need not happen before people are taken to Etheria.”

“So…”

“So you should say goodbye now.”

Atton blinked, shocked and suddenly at a loss for words. He hadn’t been given enough warning. Ethan and Alara both turned to him, and he smiled. “I guess I’ll see you when you visit Etheria, then.”

Ethan rose from the pilot’s chair and enfolded him in a backslapping hug. “You’re sure about this?” he asked as he withdrew.

Atton nodded. “Yes.”

Ethan regarded him a moment longer. His eyes were hard and full of concern. “Good luck,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Etherus reminded them. “It’s just farewell for now, until we’ve resurrected everyone and we can make the jump to Etheria.”

Atton nodded and then Alara rose and gave him a hug, too. “Say hello to your wife for us,” she whispered. She withdrew to an arm’s length, her expression suddenly serious. “And I expect a proper introduction when we get to Etheria.”

Atton smiled. “You’ll get one.” He wiped a warm trickle of moisture from his cheek and sighed. Finally, he turned to Etherus. “I’m ready.” His heart thumped eagerly, threatening to leap right out of his chest.

Etherus nodded, and Atton felt his whole body grow warm and pleasantly numb. His pounding heart slowed and his vision narrowed to a pair of dark tunnels. Then his heart—

Stopped.

Atton felt his eyes roll up in his head, and the twin tunnels he was looking down merged into one. He felt himself go racing down that tunnel toward a bright light, and as he emerged in that light, a familiar voice whispered, “Welcome home, Atton.”

Blinking the spots from his eyes, Atton turned to find Ceyla sitting beside him, staring at him with big, vibrant blue eyes.

How had he gotten here? Shouldn’t he be waking up in a stasis tube on Origin? Suddenly he knew the answer. He hadn’t awoken on Origin because the stasis tube where he’d lain sleeping had quantum-jumped his body home even before he could wake up. Now that he was awake, he found himself reeling in a rushing stream of memory. There were so many memories that it was difficult fitting the pieces together. “Ceyla, I’m so sor—”

“Shhh.” Ceyla placed a long, dexterous finger to his lips. That finger was luminous, and so was she. “I know,” she said, and then she kissed him.

Suddenly all of the pieces snapped into place. As he drifted away from that kiss, Atton turned to see that they were sitting in a luxurious home beside a sparkling lavender lake, overlooking a breathtaking view of white and azure trees sloping down to ivory shores. The sun painted the sky purple as it slipped below the horizon, and in the middle distance a giant rainbow splashed the sky with variegated color, arcing clear from one shore of the lake to the other. A glittering city lay to one side, looking like it was made entirely of glass.

Atton turned back to his wife and shook his head. Ceyla was just as he remembered her, but not as he remembered her from their human lives, rather from their Immortal ones. Somehow, after all this time, it all still seemed like yesterday—Etheria, the war, imprisonment…

“Hello, Atton,” another woman said.

He turned and saw three familiar faces. His gaze flicked from one to the other, unable to believe his eyes. Hoff, Destra, Atta… they were all there! He rose to his feet, a smile bursting to his lips. Then they all rushed forward and enfolded him in a hug.

Atton remembered watching all of them die on Avilon, and he grimaced. “I thought…”

“So did we,” Hoff said, whispering beside his ear.

Atton blinked tears from his eyes, unable to believe it all. His thoughts returned to the family he’d left behind, and he felt a pang of sadness, but he knew he would see them all again soon.

“I’m still having trouble making sense of all this,” Atton said.

Atta snorted. “You’re lucky. At least there weren’t two of you. You only have one set of human memories.”

Atton frowned at that, wondering how Etherus dealt with multiple copies. As they withdrew from each other, Destra explained, “Atta and I were alive on Avilon,
and
in the Getties. We went with the Union to attack Avilon, and we died
twice
during the fighting. Etherus integrated all of our human memories, so now it feels like we lived two separate lives.”

“That must have been confusing,” Atton said.

“It still is,” Atta replied.

Atton sighed and turned back to look at the view. He recognized the planet, but not the house he was in. “Whose home is this?” he asked.

“It’s yours and Ceyla’s,” Hoff replied. “Ours is down the road.”

Atton shook his head. “If it’s mine, why don’t I remember it?”

“Because it’s new. Your old home was destroyed in the war.”

“The war that we caused.”

Hoff nodded.

“Makes you wonder if we deserve to be here,” Atton said.

Ceyla took his hand and squeezed it, getting his attention. “Everyone deserves a second chance,” she said.

“Then I guess we’d better not waste this one.”

“We won’t,” Ceyla said. “This time we won’t take paradise for granted.”

Atton smiled and nodded, watching as the sun sank behind a distant line of white and blue trees.

No, we won’t,
he thought.
Never again.

Chapter 55

F
arah Hale’s eyes fluttered open. The transparent cover of the stasis tank where Omnius’s drones had taken her for confinement hissed open. Clouds of moisture billowed around her as the cold air inside the tank rushed out to meet the warmer, more humid air of the stasis room.