Abyss (Songs of Megiddo) Read Free Page A

a brilliant pulse of light, accompanied by the shattering, chattering perforation of tens of thousands of fragile glass panes as the shock-wave tore down, out, and through.
    As air -raid sirens whirred to life in a deafening cacophony of distended, distorted moans, the citizens of New York rushed for the subway entrances, designated assemblies, and convenient basements. Naturally, there was panic...but the crowds were surprisingly organised: pressing into the deep places and safe, enclosed spaces with, all things considered, orderliness reminiscent of Swiss clockwork. It was as if they were drawing on a kind of forgotten disaster-response imprint, buried somewhere deep in their collective unconscious. An awareness – a rationality – that had, perhaps, been passed down from earlier generations. From the children of the Cold War, or from those of the Eleventh of September...just over twenty years before.
    Deep within, it seemed...a kind of dark, calculated intuition had lain dormant and waited – forgotten but not gone – buried deep, deep down. A contingency...left in place for when the inevitable finally arrived. And so – or so it seemed – it had.
    §§§
    Janissary’s eyes flickered shut and she shivered, turning her face from the images lighting up the floating monitors. Without intent or forethought; without naming any god or power to whom she acknowledged obeisance...she allowed a muted prayer to hiss softly forth from between her gritted teeth. A prayer for herself. A prayer for her world .
    She knew, on some level, that the fear, awe, and myriad uncertainties that bloodied her mind were entirely a matter of context. It was she, after all, who had – with her own eyes – witnessed billions of souls, prostrate and trembling, before her wrath. She had known, many times, the power to extinguish or to save. It was she who had – consumed by rage – watched as, on her orders, asteroids were manoeuvred, prodded and pushed...set to falling...burning and hurtling through atmospheres. She had smiled, on those dark days – satisfied – as the asteroids cratered the hearts of ancient, glittering metropoli, built of worked stone and grown crystal; of living metal and mouldering bone. It was she who had – friendless and alone – forced her way into wars of annihilation fought over thousands of years, between great Empires whose dominions spanned vast swathes of the Galaxy. She had...a simple Human...brought those conflicts to their ends with nothing but the icy resolve conveyed through her disapproving glare...and, behind her, the hulking shadow of her well-earned reputation.
    And, on this very planet – lifetimes ago, or so it seemed – it was she who had sown fear among the fearless, and reaped the strength of the strongest. It was she who had carved her bloody legacy deep, and with an unerring hand, into the bones of history itself.
    In comparison, this should have been a small thing. A merciful thing. A responsible, justified, and justifiable course of action. She was, she told herself, simply doing what was necessary. She was saving her species from knowledge for which they were not ready, and from predators who sought to gain from their youth and naïveté. There was little damage. There was no death.
    No Human death. 
    Yes, but who would shed a tear for the others? For the monstrous hordes of Pho’ara and the Caldera-worlds? The Riin, perhaps...but then: their sorrow had always had more to do with what was within them, as opposed to being a response to what was without. Beyond them...there would be no one else. No one would care.
    And, beyond pity...beyond restraint... she had every right to the decision she had made. Every...right.
    The Pho’ain had moved on Earth, travelling through the vast expanse of the Riin Domi nion to do so. They should have known better. After all...the Riin – innately peaceful; peaceful to a fault – were the technological equals of the Elder Species. And Janissary had