…and the millions upon millions of people…gone…dead…instantly.
Van couldn’t stop shuddering, even though his entire body felt bruised and sore, and each shudder racked him.
Across from him, Eri was unconscious, but breathing, and the medical scan indicated no severe physical trauma.
Sometime later, an hour perhaps, Van pulled himself out of his stupor and checked the monitors, finally realizing that something had been nagging at him. He checked the systemwide EDIs. There were only about twenty Coalition warships—and all were drawn up in a defensive formation around Perdya. The other ships that had been mustering before he had jumped out-system were gone.
Where? They certainly hadn’t gone to Jerush. The Keltyr systems?
Van continued to monitor the system as the Joyau built up speed, headed in-system. Van reminded himself that deceleration would also take longer.
After another twenty minutes, Eri groaned.
Van unstrapped himself and went to the galley, where he started the kettle and the café maker. He tried not to think about what had happened in the Jerush system, but images still flashed across his mind. After the kettle boiled and the café was ready, he carried two mugs back to the cockpit.
Eri took the tea, but just cupped it between her hands.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?” Van took a sip of café. “The damage to the Joyau?” He didn’t want to address the bigger why. “I waited too long. We did make it back. But we’re outside Perdya, well outside, with no jump capability, and a little more than half drive capability. I’d guess close to twenty-plus hours to reach Aerolis. That’s where we’re headed because the Joyau’s in no shape to go anywhere else.”
The tech nodded. She was pale. Finally, she sipped the tea.
Van checked the system again, but nothing had changed. It would be hours before they reached the normal jump exit zone. For a time, he just sat there. So did Eri.
“I was on the shipnet,” Eri said. “When…he…” She shook her head.
Van swallowed. He hadn’t even thought that Trystin had actually used the Elsin to deliver his device to the Revenant sun. “You think that he…”
Eri nodded. “He could not be certain otherwise.”
“But Alya, I can’t believe…”
“Was she on board? Did you see her?”
“No,” Van admitted, “I didn’t. I didn’t hear anyone either.” That would also have explained the extra setup time that Trystin had needed. “But why?”
“He needed to be certain,” Eri said bleakly. “He always needed to be sure.” She looked down at the mug she held.
Van couldn’t say he understood. Trystin had never struck him as the martyr type. And Trystin had never lied to him. After a moment, Van laughed softly and bitterly. Trystin hadn’t lied. He just hadn’t told the entire truth—and that had happened before.
The Revenants—if not destroyed—were broken. Their home planets, their great Temple, and their defense fleet were all destroyed. The Coalition forces—and perhaps the Hyndjis and the Argentis—wouldn’t hesitate to finish off the Revenant invasion fleets. Without those fleets, most of the planets taken over in recent years might well revert to their previous belief and social systems. Then, again, Van reflected, they might not.
He frowned. Except for him and Eri, and Nynca and her tech, who would know what had happened? Massive solar flares did happen. They were rare enough that no one could be sure exactly of the cause. Was that what Trystin wanted? A proof that the Revenants were not God’s chosen people? A seemingly natural occurrence that cast massive doubts on the divine support of the Revenants?
Van took refuge in the shipnet, checking the system EDIs and the ship systems.
He still couldn’t say he understood, especially after everything that Trystin had said about ethics—and the totally ethical way in which he had treated people. Van just hoped he would be able to understand when he knew more. If he could learn more. If he could put aside the images.
Chapter 73
Nynca and the Salya had reached Aerolis before Van and the Joyau, and Nynca was waiting at the tower lock once he had the Joyau docked.
Van wasn’t certain he wanted to see her. The more he’d thought about what Trystin had done, the less he understood. The images still flashed through his mind. How could anyone believe that destroying a world, a system, with half a billion people, was ethical? Had Trystin been, at the end, a madman, as José Marti had suggested? How could he have been otherwise?
Where did that leave Van? He couldn’t return home, not with what he’d been a party to, and not with the situation in the Republic. And he also didn’t have a ship that was going anywhere, not anytime soon. Could he make amends through IIS? What would happen to IIS?
He pushed those thoughts aside as Nynca stepped into the Joyau’s lock. Her eyes were still reddened, and she had deep black circles under her eyes. Without a word, she walked into Van’s stateroom and waited for him to close the door. Then she spoke. “Privacy. No recording.”
Van nodded and triggered the little-used privacy cone.
“How much have you figured out?” she asked, without sitting down.
“He had it all planned.” He cleared his throat. “Alya wasn’t on board, was she?”
“No. He sent a burst coded message to me just before…” Nynca’s lips tightened, and she looked down at the stateroom floor, at the synthetic parquet flooring.
“He wanted a natural occurrence to destroy the Revenants,” Van offered. “One that would cast doubts on either their sense of divine mission, or one that would imply that their God disapproved of their actions. Maybe both.” Van paused. “That’s all I can really say that I truly understand. I don’t…I can’t…understand…there must have been five hundred million people…How could anyone…?”
“That is the danger of age,” she replied.
“The danger of age?” Van replied stupidly.
“How old do you think he
