Abyss (Songs of Megiddo) Read Free

whatever comes. So...like I said, I need you to have a transport ready. Just in case. Regardless of whether I’m being illogical or not.”
    “ I will do as you say; but I need for you to ensure that the secondary stratagem is not required.”
    “ I’ve ran the equations again and again. The Phaen agree. This should work. We have about the same probability of success as...well...the chance you think I’d have of surviving my ‘contingency’ plan. So there’s a nice symmetry, there.”
    “One might observe that some symmetries foreshadow.”
    “One might.” She agreed, not particularly wanting to consider the situation through that lens. She remembered the superstitions of the culture to which she had, originally, belonged. She remembered the vague prophecies and blood-spattered entreaties to ambivalent spirits and nature-gods. She remembered how convincing it had all seemed at the time; like a covenant with the natural order; a relationship...or a ‘buying in’ to the equilibrium of that order. But then the others had come. On Earth...the others always came. Another tribe, or another state, or another culture. She shook her head. The memories were hazy and distant. She preferred that. She had no wish to breath new life into old ghosts.
    “Janissary? Issa?” Myadir prompted.
    “ So we’re ready?” She murmured, seeking fresh confirmation. Or was it reassurance that she sought? Mutuality of purpose? Support? Myadir simply nodded out a noncommittal, distant nod. Janissary sighed. The time was now.
    She pressed down on a raised, button-like protrusion at the end of the left armrest. A holographic screen appeared in front of her, with a range of diagnostics and commands accompanied by the glyphs that, in ‘Reformed Riin’, represented syllables. Syllables which, slotted together in myriad variations, formed the base-most blocs of the language’s written expression. Under that, the annotations were repeated in her language. English.
    More accurately, it was her language ... today . Like most sentient beings living in exile – whether involuntary or self-imposed – Janissary was fluent in a range of dialects. Of course, the fluencies that she had developed from a distance while monitoring the wax and wane of the cultures of her former home had little utility in her day-to-day life. Knowing them was still of profound importance to her...but it was, she was aware, an affectation. But on this particular day...Earth English seemed appropriate. Even simply as a matter of respect for the vast metropolis below; the first target, ostensibly, for the prospective invasion of the Pho’ain.
    With a wry , humourless smirk, Janissary made a clawing motion at the hologram, swiping sideways. The display flipped fluidly towards Myadir.
    “Do you want to do it?” They exchanged a glance. Something between fear and tired annoyance showed through in his expression.
    “The question is premised on a deliberately counterintuitive foundation.” With a similar motion, he flipped the display back to her. She shrugged. It was a reasonable response. After all...it was her plan. More than that...it was her planet .
    “Fine. More fun for me.”
    “‘Fun’?” He echoed sceptically.
    “Don’t.” She warned.
    And, with that, she sent the command.
    And it was such an easy a thing to do. Far, far easier than a thing like that had any business being. She just pushed a single, slim finger toward a little sphere of light, and, in seconds...the holographic projection disappeared. And so it was done. Just like that. Her gaze shifted towards the larger, permanent screens where the diagnostics and imaging were displayed. She watched them attentively as the readings, confirmations, revisions, and assessments began to pour in.
    §§§
    From the perspective of the Humans of New York City, Janissary’s action had a more visceral, observable impact. The sky above the city – and, undoubtedly, within a wide circumference of it – lit up with