by Aleks Canard
‘Missed what?’ Serena said, following the machina back to the lounge where Valentine was failing to alleviate an uncomfortable silence.
‘Altayr, where’s the mirror? The one from the Lodge’s Outpost.’
‘I teleported it to the Fox before we left.’
‘Faedra, where’s your ship?’
‘Once it dropped me off it flew back to orbit. And before you ask, Gwyrlaeth, the mirror is on board.’
‘We need the mirror, and then we need your ship as a diversion.’
‘It has no weapons. I promise you it won’t be useful.’
‘It doesn’t need weapons where it’s going.’
Trix told her newly revised plan to everyone. Faedra wasn’t pleased, but Strife Squad concurred that it was preferable to the plan’s original iteration.
The machina smiled.
This might just work.
3
Final preparations were being made.
Valentine repaired his armour. He also put extra plating on. It would inhibit his movement, but with the way he was feeling, that was a worthy precaution. Serena dressed in her battle-armour. She favoured hot pink plating with white details. The Meteor Brigade logo was embossed on both her pauldrons. Unlike Trix, she favoured a standard helmet that had to be carried separately. Only the visor was retractable. ALURA was written across her back in thick white block letters.
Once she’d suited up, Serena worked with Valentine to erect a defensive perimeter in front of the airlock’s foyer door. Valentine had acquired a couple gatling guns over the years. One was positioned to the elevator’s left. The other was put inside. Anyone who breached the Red Queen would never see it coming. Valentine erected a shield barrier to stop any flanking attempts coming from the right.
‘Hey, Alan,’ Valentine said, speaking to his AI. Alan didn’t have a holographic human body like Sif. He was just a blue sphere. His voice was that of a posh butler. Valentine had seen it in a movie once and thought the voice was hilarious.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You mind sealing the guest bedroom by the airlock and the armoury?’
‘Not at all, sir.’
‘I wouldn’t want any guests going inside at the moment.’
‘Very good.’
‘Cheers, Alan.’
‘My pleasure, Valentine.’
‘What did you put in the guest bedroom?’ Serena said as she finished bolting the gatling gun into the elevator floor. She had braided her hair tightly so it didn’t get in the way.
‘A little present just in case anyone comes knocking.’
‘What’re the renovation costs going to be?’
‘Nothing I can’t afford.’
‘There goes my Christmas bonus.’
‘Relax, it won’t be that bad.’
‘Which is exactly what you said to me during the Hellfire Operation, and look how that turned out.’
‘We survived.’
‘As you never failed to remind me by forcing me to listen to every poem you wrote about it.’
‘And your criticisms were all taken to heart. In fact, I owe my transition to novels to your harsh words about my poetry.’
‘I’ve done the galaxy a favour then.’
The two soldiers laughed as they admired their handiwork. They would joke about old ops until Father Time himself was sick of them. But under no circumstances would Serena ever bring up Mission Icarus. Valentine never spoke of it either. That section of their Memory Lanes was covered in broken glass, hot coals, and poisonous gas.
Rather painful to tread at the best of times.
On the Fox, Trix was happy to see that the mirror was positioned in her cargo bay. She fastened it to the floor then continued inside. She would’ve felt better if Faedra had been cuffed, but Altayr didn’t think there was a problem.
‘We’re set to go whenever you are,’ Serena said over the battle-net.
‘We’ll rendezvous in orbit.’
‘You got it, Trix.’
The Fox powered up first. The Red Queen followed. Trix’s face sunk into a grim stupor. It would be just her luck that the day her Zilvian banishment was lifted was the day she’d die.
Having my soul stolen by a crossroad demon would be an interesting way to go, she thought as the Fox flew above the ocean. She gunned it to hypersonic. Trix went to ultrasonic under Faedra’s directions once she reached space.
Maybe he won’t be able to take your soul. You’re a demon. You don’t have one. Monsters never do, a sinister voice cooed inside her head. It was a sadistic amalgamation of various villains she’d fought over the years. Though Balthioul was stronger than all the other voices. The Lord of the Wood. His cackling faded into her mind’s annals.
The Road to Redemption stretched on before her. There was still a long way to go.
And the thing about redemption was that even if you repented, you weren’t guaranteed shit. Trix was prepared for the fact that there could be nothing at the end of the path.
Only semi-conscious of piloting the Fox, Trix docked with Faedra’s ship.
‘Damn you’re fast,’ Serena said as the Red Queen parked beside the Fox.
‘Maybe if your ship didn’t have so many unnecessary fittings it’d be able to keep up.’
Valentine: ‘The stripper pole is useful for entertainment, and fitness. And I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but it really—’
‘Yes, we know. It ties the room together,’ Trix said, cutting the author off.
Trix unmoored from the sorceress’ ship once the mages had retrieved Faedra’s mirror. Serena docked with it next. Valentine had some modifications to make. You know, just in case. Serena tinkered a little as well. They hovered in place when they were done.
Trix brought up a video feed. Serena and Valentine filled the HUD.
‘This is it.’
‘You know, I doubt that I’ll be allowed in Dark’s Hide’s VIP section after this,’ Valentine said.
‘We’ll have to settle for Drion’s resorts,’ said Serena. Her helmet’s visor was transparent for the moment. It covered most of her head as it was specially made for extra vehicular activity. The larger HUD meant more natural peripheral vision and space for a greater number of displays. Serena could monitor the entire ship’s readouts from her HUD if necessary.
‘A rough compensation if there ever was one. Good luck, Trix, Big Red.’
‘Keep your comms open. And farewell to you both.’
Valentine and Serena saluted before the feed terminated. Trix watched the Red Queen fly past them, along with Faedra’s ship. They entered hyperspace in tandem, hurtling towards the Rose Vale Transfer and on to the Dying Star Nexus.
Trix swivelled in her chair to face Faedra.
‘Gauthier has a hold on you with his contract. He’ll want to turn you against us. Remember that whatever happens, you can’t give in to him.’
‘I’m curious, Gwyrlaeth. What is your plan should Gauthier not be freed, and Nadira no longer needs you? If she’s been coerced into the advocate position, then by this point, her mind cannot be entirely stable. She’ll slaughter you with endless artillery until not even your machina bones remain. Why, all that will be left of you is your little winged skull trinket.’
‘If that happens, then there’ll be no stopping Gauthier, and only a marginally better chance of beating Nadira. But I no longer have any doubt that the means to Gauthier’s freedom have been assured. The only thing that remains to be seen is whether or not the location Nadira has specified contains your parents’ bones.
‘Should that not be the case, and we’re being lured to a rocky plain in the middle of nowhere with no connection to a graveyard or crossroads, then this is all over.’
‘I thought machinas were taught no retreat, no surrender,’ Faedra said.
‘I’m not dying for two artefacts and a sorceress who failed to kill me. Death is never glorious. I know. I’ve seen enough of it. But it can be meaningful under the right circumstances. This i
s not one of those times. This is lusting for power, money, and influence. No great struggle between two warring sides.’
‘Then why’re you going in the first place? You needn’t even meet with Nadira. It’s me she wants. And the mirrors.’
‘And since it’s you she wants, I’m surprised that you’re going so willingly.’
‘Both of you cease this chatter. It helps no one,’ Altayr said.
Neither Faedra nor Trix paid him any attention.
Sif debated moving the Fox towards the Transfer. She let it be. Trix hadn’t even called Nadira yet. And this was not an event for which the AI wanted to be early. Whether it was the probability of survival that caused her to simulate worry, or actual nerves, Sif didn’t know. She didn’t think there was a difference.
After all, how could a human know if their emotions were simulated — as if programmed by a divine being — or real? They couldn’t.
‘I will not let those mirrors out of my sight,’ said Faedra.
Trix noted that Faedra had her right palm open. Ready to grab her spear-staff, should it materialise.
The machina rose from her chair. Stood nose to nose with the sorceress.
‘Don’t you think for a second that I will spare your life when Gauthier is finished. If you so much as point your spear in my direction, I’ll skewer you with it.’
‘And do you really think Altayr would let that happen?’ Faedra said, her eyes becoming innocent and flirtatious. ‘And if you would kill me so easily, then why would you spare Nadira’s life when this is her fault?’
‘You’re the one who summoned Gauthier. This is your fault. And Nadira Vega is a necessary evil. You didn’t know Daquarius Farosi. You didn’t see what he could do. I did. I’d rather Nadira Vega controlled Dark’s Hide than another perverse rapist.’
‘This is the same woman who threatened three of your friends. Yet you still stand up for her,’ Faedra said, pushing Trix as far as she dared.
‘Enough,’ Altayr said, his voice booming, as commanding as a drill sergeant stereotype.
‘She threatened to kill them quickly. Farosi would’ve skinned them alive or worse. You might dabble with dark forces, demons, and death all the livelong day, sweetheart, but you can’t even begin to comprehend true horror. You know nothing of it. And I swear, should you test me again, I will educate you until every bone in your body is broken.’
Faedra shut up. Folded her arms. Shook her hair away from her face. ‘You know, you’re right. I never knew Daquarius Farosi. But I imagine he was a lot like you.’
Trix clenched her fists. Her teeth gritted with the force of grinding metal. She was so tense that the broken bones in her face flared with pain.
‘Altayr, take this rancorous witch out of my sight.’
The machina sat in the pilot’s chair. Began dialling Nadira. Altayr cupped Faedra’s elbow a little. Guided her towards the living room door. Trix was hoping that he’d be rougher than that.
‘I’m impressed you didn’t punch her,’ Sif said.
‘Don’t tempt me.’
Nadira Vega picked up. Sif began running a trace.
‘Machina, dear. You’re calling me much earlier than I expected. I was all settled in not to hear from you for another three hours.’
‘I would think that by now you’d expect the unexpected of me.’
‘And even then, I’m always pleasantly surprised.’
‘I’m on route to your specified coordinates now.’
‘Wonderful. I am looking forward to having those mirrors in my possession.’
‘Since you won’t be able to use them for any magic purposes, I think you’ll be disappointed with their reflecting qualities. Curved surfaces make for poor mirrors.’
‘I’ve already told you, dear machina, you know not for what I want them. And I can assure you that had I simply desired something in which to behold my reflection, I would’ve used a regular mirror. Why bother going through all this rigmarole otherwise?’
‘Here I was thinking that you were going to say your reflection only deserved the best.’
‘It appears that even after all these years, we’re still capable of astounding each other.’
‘So it would seem.’
Each woman regarded the other with piercing eyes, searching for their secrets. Neither had any luck. Or if they did, they didn’t show it.
‘I’ll be at the location you want in under an hour. Tell your couriers to be ready. I don’t like to be kept waiting any more than you.’
‘I’ll make sure they’re prepared, dear machina. Don’t fret. When this is over you should come to Dark’s Hide and celebrate a job well done. There may be a reward in it for you.’
‘Finishing this job will be reward enough. Farewell, Nadira.’
Dark’s Hide’s Duchess smiled. She even raised a martini glass. It looked like Nightshade’s signature drink, Halahala. It was mixed to give the appearance of storm clouds in a clear sky, and known for being especially potent, even among heavy drinking psygotas. If you could drink the Halahala without vomiting, or passing out, then you were allowed to buy the infinitely sweeter, and much more agreeable Amrita, which had a colour closer to that of early morning on Drion.
Both names came from ancient Hindu Mythology, and upon taking control of Dark’s Hide, Nadira made them Nightshade staples.
Sif: ‘I tracked her transmission to Dark’s Hide, but I’m doubtful that’s where she’ll be staying.’
‘Why?’
‘No effort was made to stop my trace. She’s probably headed to Orix right now.’
‘It could be a double bluff.’
‘You know, even I’m missing hunting monsters right now. They scheme less.’
‘And ain’t that the truth?’
‘Have you given any more thought to letting me fly the ship?’
‘It doesn’t look like I have much choice.’
‘Worried about me scratching the paint?’
‘I’m just worried about you.’
‘They’d have to atomise the Fox before my AI housing was destroyed. I can’t make an accurate analysis yet since I don’t know what I’m going up against, but I think I’ll be okay.’
‘What’re you basing that off?’
‘The amount of near death situations I’ve survived. Which, so far, has been all of them. I think the odds look pretty good.’
‘Keep us on course, Sif. I have to fix my armour.’
‘You got it.’
Trix left the cockpit. Altayr and Faedra weren’t in the living room. The machina heard them talking in the crew’s quarters. Altayr must’ve known Trix wouldn’t want to see Faedra at all.
Sif kept the Fox moving towards the Rose Vale Transfer.
Orix came ever closer.
4
Armour was fixed, weapons were cleaned.
Trix oiled her pistol thoroughly before moving onto her sword. It had gotten a workout during the fight on Zilvia. Her lingering anger slipped away as she cleaned the blade with psygotaic vodka. Some people had meditation. Trix had weapon maintenance.
She thought about the approaching battle while she cleaned. But her thoughts kept drifting. They always returned to what Faedra said about Iglessia’s bloodline. Being blessed by dragons. Trix tried thinking about anything else. Found that she couldn’t. She was riding this train of thought all the way to the end.
The station was how she’d last seen it. White with high ceilings. All quiet. Neon signs listed arrivals and departures. The only darkness lay in the tunnels. Around the bends where Trix’s vision wasn’t permitted.
‘You’re wondering if it’s your fault,’ a voice said from behind Trix.
The machina turned.
Garth Roche was walking towards her. He was wearing a simple suit. Navy coloured. Business like, though the material suggested a casual afternoon on the coast rather than a boardroom. His face was as it had been the previous time. Haggard. Eyes twinkling with shreds of hope that were just big enough to catc
h the light.
‘I know Duskmere’s my fault.’
‘Why do you think you can hide things from me, machina? I am your own mind.’
‘Why did I see the dark ceirlo on Zilvia? Why do I keep seeing you?’
‘Why do you see anything at all? Reality is different for each of us, though we act like it’s all the same. Everyone’s perception is unique. And that’s exactly what reality is, if you were to put a definition on it. Perception. Since we cannot perceive without our own unique filter, who are we to say what we’re seeing is the real deal?’
‘You can stop with the metaphysics and answer my question.’
‘If you wanted your question answered, you would’ve done it yourself.’
‘I think Rasud Sinnad knew about Siella’s 19th prophecy.’
‘And what makes you say that?’
‘He had an interest in seeing her take the throne.’
‘Good. But that train of thought has incomplete tracks, Trix.’
‘He was the one who set the kidnapping in motion in the first place.’
‘Yes he was,’ Roche said, sitting on a bench. Trix sat beside him. They stared at the empty train line. It was only then that Trix noticed the arrival and departure boards showed no times. And if they did, they changed constantly.
‘Why would Rasud do such a thing?’
‘Must you speak to me in that patronising tone?’
‘A parent often forgets that his children have grown.’
‘Rasud knew that Iglessia didn’t want the throne. Maybe she was planning to run away. Or that she would turn it down when Erai died. He had to show her what would become of the galaxy if she relinquished control to the Ithli family.’
‘A promising idea.’
‘If you’re just going to be smug, I don’t see why you’re even here.’
‘You call me forward. I can’t help what I do.’
‘Surely if Siella’s prophecy was true, then Rasud wouldn’t have needed to lift a finger. Iglessia would’ve ascended the throne all by herself.’
‘That we can never know. Sometimes it is the very act of prophesying that makes events transpire, for people want them to happen.’
‘Does Siella’s Prophecy have anything to do with Ragnarök?’
A train pulled up in the station. Garth Roche stood. Walked towards its opening doors.