by Aleks Canard
Trix walked into the portal without blinking.
I hate portals, she thought.
Trix was sucked in. Every bit of her turned into powder which swirled around the portal’s edge before reaching the centre. Nadira Vega went next. The same thing happened to her. Altayr intended to follow, despite Trix’s words, but he had to cut off the power or he would die. Bloody tears streamed down his face.
Altayr ended the spell. The portal lingered for a few moments before collapsing into the metal. The engraving glowed, then faded to normal.
‘Altayr, are you alright?’ Sif said.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. Altayr used his staff to stand. The airlock was only ten steps away, but in his current state, it looked like a desert’s horizon. Altayr slumped into one of the cargo bay chairs. Strapped himself in.
‘Let’s go to Dark’s Hide. Fast as you can. Have you heard from Trix?’
Sif booted up the Fox. Shot skywards. She would have to travel away from the storm before it would be safe to break through the clouds. Some of the lightning strikes could deplete the shields.
‘I lost her signal as soon as she entered the portal. Nadira’s too. I’m estimating that their sudden displacement has messed with their GPS and it needs to triangulate their new positions. They’ll have to connect to Dark’s Hide’s long-range comms before we can read them again.’
GPS stood for Galactic Positioning System in the 28th century. And Sif was right. Everything she said was perfectly logical. Though the AI couldn’t help but worry about Trix. Each passing second made Sif feel more emotional. She didn’t even know if that was possible. This made her confused. Sif focused on flying the ship. Careful to avoid the storm.
Altayr’s stomach did flips in the cargo bay. He kept his eyes closed. Blood continued trickling out. He teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Sleep was what he needed. Worrying kept him awake. What was going on? Then there was the voice in the back of his head which whispered greedily and without cessation. Here he was on a ship. Alone. The mirror was his for the taking.
Altayr argued with himself until sleep finally took him.
His staff fell onto the floor. He’d done all he could.
5
Trix of Zilvia had never been so disorientated in her life.
The portal had pulled at her from every direction. She’d wanted to scream. Her body had been disassembled. Now she was in one piece again. Only, she didn’t know where she was.
Grey hallways stretched in all directions. By some cruel twist of fate, she was at a crossroads. Nadira appeared behind her moments later. She was shaken, though she didn’t vomit.
‘Where did that sorcerer take us?’
‘I don’t know,’ Trix said. She looked around. Every direction appeared to go on for just as long as the other. There were no signs. Rising panic rumbled through Trix’s bones. She’d never forgive herself if Valentine and Serena died because she didn’t reach them in time. She tried to think. Logic seemed irrelevant in this situation. Wherever they were was not reality.
No.
It was somewhere in between.
This was the Betwixt. She and Nadira Vega were possibly the first to ever walk its halls. Though she had imagined the Betwixt to be more impressive. Bland grey corridors seemed rather underwhelming.
A feeling of pure instinct swelled in Trix’s stomach. Dark’s Hide lay in the direction she had been facing when she emerged. She dubbed that direction north.
‘Come on. Where we’re going is up ahead.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I have a hunch.’
Nadira rolled her eyes. ‘We could be stuck here forever, or following your hunch could lead us to our deaths.’
‘Then we won’t be stuck here.’
Trix moved her feet, trying to make them run. They settled into a relaxed saunter, seemingly of their own accord. Her heartrate spiked which caused sheer terror to pass over her. She reminded herself she was no longer in the Riddling Arena.
How do you know you’re not? Gauthier whispered beyond a veil. You’ll never know whether you’re trapped or whether you’re free, why my oh my, you’ll forever be thinking of me. You’ll see me wherever you go, oh yes you’ll never know just what’s real and what’s fake. It’s enough to make me masturbate!
How can you know if I’ve taken your soul when you aren’t quite sure what it is? A soul is not yours, and it’s not really a soul, just an extension of consciousness. And trust me when I say it’s the tastiest form of deliciousness.
Trix blocked out Gauthier’s words, but he kept nattering in her ear. She couldn’t make herself move any faster. Found that she didn’t want to. Time was not itself in the Betwixt. It behaved in ways that were alien to every known rule. Running or walking, Trix felt that she would reach her destination in the same amount of time.
In that respect, it was like the Riddling Arena. A lot could happen in the blink of an eye. It was not a matter of time slowing down, but of objects speeding up.
As Trix was lost in thought, with Nadira trailing behind her, equally as lost within her mind’s confines, the grey walls’ monotony was broken.
A white veil was on one side. A black was on the opposite. Both of them were semi-transparent. Signs hung above them. They were as much help as throwing lighter fluid on an inferno.
The one above the white veil read: Gods’ Mercy. Above the black: Demons’ Cruelty.
Nadira: ‘Of all the gods and all the stars. What is this place?’
‘These are corridors between worlds.’ Trix’s flesh rippled as she spoke, seeming to affirm her suspicions.
‘How do we tell which veil to part? Have you ever learned of this during your time among the dryads, or from your huntress books?’
‘I’m not sure anyone’s ever learned about this.’
Trix kept walking. Nadira moved beside her. The women passed more and more doors. Each with names as maddeningly unhelpful as the last.
Gunslinger’s Gamble and Swordsman’s Certainty.
Harmonious Celebration and Chaotic Catastrophe.
Natural Road and Odd Lane.
If the veils were referencing places that existed within the Milky Way, then Trix had never heard of them.
The hallway stopped eventually. It continued at a right angle to the floor. Trix raised an eyebrow. Stuck her foot towards the wall. Gravity readjusted. She kept walking. Nadira followed, although she was becoming more disheartened by the second. All her experience with rare artefacts couldn’t abate her increasing fear that this world — if it was a world, and not some hellish limbo that went on forever — would be the death of her.
It was impossible to tell how long Trix and Nadira walked in the Betwixt. Years, hours, minutes, take your pick. We have all the times here, there, and everywhere. It’s all the same. Can you dig it, huh? I said, can you dig it?
Finally, what might have only been one second after initially setting foot in the corridors, Trix came to a veil, and her instincts flared. She looked at her comms gauntlet. She was curious to see if the GPS still worked. All she got was a message:
YOU ARE HERE
Still curious, Trix tried to render a 3-D map of her location. She received another notification almost instantly.
IMMEDIATE LOCATION TOO BIG TO BE RENDERED. PLEASE SELECT SMALLER PARAMETERS AND TRY AGAIN.
‘Machina, what’re you doing? Why’ve you stopped?’
Trix: ‘This is where we have to be. Look.’ She pointed to the sign which hung above the white veil.
MARAUDERS’ MECCA
In keeping with the corridors’ aesthetic, there was a black veil on the opposite wall.
GUARDIANS’ GUILLOTINE
Both titles were ominous. Trix was drawn to Marauders’ Mecca, because if there ever was such a place, it was Dark’s Hide. The other logical reason she had for picking it was that the portal Faedra de Morland had disappeared in had been black. White seemed closer to the grey portal Altayr had summoned, despite being equal p
arts black and white by its very nature.
‘Before you ask,’ Trix said, raising her hand to push the veil aside, ‘I’m not sure this is the right way. I only feel like it is. You’re more than welcome to keep searching if you want. I won’t stop you.’
Nadira only nodded. Her mind was too abuzz to argue. This place changed how she viewed everything. The question of being alone in the galaxy had been answered when the zireans had come to Earth, though that had been long before Nadira’s birth.
Then there came the question about whether the Milky Way’s races were alone in the universe. And now this place, these corridors to all there was, perhaps all there had been, and just maybe, all that would be.
Trix pushed aside the veil. Stepped inside a small white room with four walls. Wind came from somewhere. Sand rolled across the floor in shifting dunes.
The machina started having second thoughts. There was no sand on Dark’s Hide. This portal could take her anywhere. She blinked. The sand swirled in the air, creating an infinity symbol enclosed in a circle. Then it was gone. All the sand on the floor disappeared too.
A single word was whispered in Trix’s ear. She couldn’t make it out.
Nadira stepped inside. Elated that she wasn’t dead yet. This world was beyond Nadira’s control. All her influence was useless. Her threats powerless. Her money worthless. It was humbling and terrifying. Nadira felt as though she had been transported back to her younger years when she hustled on street corners. The months of forced prostitution before she was able to escape her pimp, killing him in cold blood as he lay in bed, drug fucked out of his mind. Broken glass on the floor. Bullwhip in his hand.
It all came back like a heavy duty, total knockout punch which sent her visiting with angels. She remembered vulnerability, hunger, thirst.
She remembered feeling small.
Nadira Vega activated her helmet so Trix wouldn’t see her cry.
In a few moments, she would be glad that she had.
Trix was staring at the portal which lay on the opposite wall to the veil. It was white, though at times it shimmered like a mirror. It entranced the machina.
‘From here we can reach everything,’ Trix said. Flashes of Garth Roche’s notes came to her mind. Perhaps the Uldarians’ destroyers came from these very corridors. And mayhap they would come this way again.
The machina nearly stepped into the portal. A gut feeling made her stop. She activated her helmet totally so that not even her ponytail stuck out the top.
Then, taking one last look around, knowing that she may never return to the corridors, she stepped inside. Nadira Vega followed.
Trix of Zilvia had a single thought as she floated upward through space, her vision shifting in and out of focus.
This is the mirrors’ third component, what connects a journey’s start to a journey’s end.
The corridors faded away. Yet they remained, lingering behind reality itself like Dark’s Hide’s maintenance tunnels. They were there for everyone, but only accessible to those who knew how to reach them.
A colourful caravan trundled somewhere in the grey halls. Its sole occupant smiled.
6
There was darkness, and the stars were dotted in one at a time.
Then there was weightlessness. Trix and Nadira were floating outside Dark’s Hide. Ships were coming and going, only narrowly missing them. Their comms gauntlets began syncing with Dark’s Hide’s long-range comms.
‘Shit,’ Trix said. All the corridors’ wonder was replaced by tactical thinking. There would be time to marvel later. Right now, Valentine and Serena were holding off an army all by themselves.
Reality had a similarly sobering effect on Nadira. She felt in control once more upon seeing her fortress. Though she did look around, searching for a portal. Couldn’t see one.
‘Machina, grab hold of me. I’ll use my thrusters to take us in.’
Trix used magic to position herself behind Nadira. She engaged her exo-suit’s thrusters. They took off. Nadira wasn’t as smooth as a dragon machina, nor could she bank and weave like Trix. But they made it within Dark’s Hide’s artificial gravity field without hitting anything.
‘Valentine, where are you?’
Radio silence.
‘Bottom floor, under the smaller asteroid. Right at the very end, furthest from the elevators. How’re you here already?’
‘I walked.’
Valentine didn’t know what to make of that, and at present he was too busy not dying. He let it slide.
Nadira contacted her guards. ‘I want to see the first Vanguard Division at the docks now or so help me I’ll cripple every last one of you then ship you to Thyria to work three orit protection for crack whores.’
Trix couldn’t hear the reply. She guessed it was in agreement.
Nadira’s thrusters slowed dreadfully since the duo were technically in atmosphere now. It was unlikely that they would reach the docks. Trix leapt off Nadira’s back. Spread her wingsuit. Used gravity magic to gain momentum.
Nadira watched Trix go. Her damn suit was too heavy. It wasn’t made for extended flight. It was made for combat. Nadira spied an incoming corrachian merchant ship. Cut the thrusters. Landed on its hull. No doubt the pilot would’ve heard.
Trix was fast approaching the Red Queen as Nadira rode into the docks on her corrachian chariot. Trix saw the ominous ship that Valentine had described as well. Soldiers were pouring out of its cargo bay. If there had been any ships on the bottom level before, there weren’t any now.
‘Which room are you in?’
‘We’re pinned in the bar and running out of ammo. These bastards are everywhere,’ Serena said. ‘Alan’s sealed the cockpit. They won’t be breaching it without blowing themselves up too. The only reason we’re still alive is because he’s monitoring enemy movement on the scanners. They’re sweeping every room.’
‘I’ve had it with those fucking mirrors,’ Valentine said, over gunfire. ‘I’ve told them that they ain’t here, but for some reason they’re not believing me.’
Trix retracted her wingsuit as she reached the docks. The Red Queen’s loading ramp had been eviscerated. More troops were moving up. They hadn’t noticed the machina yet. Trix loved surprises. She drew her sword. Firing her pistol would give away her position. She ran up the ramp. Nine soldiers were advancing towards the busted airlock. Guns raised.
The rear guard didn’t even have time to gasp. Trix’s sword separated him at the hips. She crossed the distance to the next soldier. Opened his femoral artery. The soldiers ahead started turning. The jig was up. Trix drew her pistol. Put a point-blanc round through the bleeding soldier’s head.
‘Contact rear,’ the vanguard said.
Seven soldiers were left. Hah. That was a warmup for Trix of Zilvia.
She pivoted to deliver a devastating cross slash against a female psygota before half turning behind a cargo shelf. It was the very same one Serena had stocked on Zilvia.
Bullets blew apart food crates. Dented munitions containers. Trix waited. Soon they would have to reload. Then she would strike. That was when she heard an engine roar to life. What?
‘Valentine, Serena, I’m in the cargo bay. I have seven soldiers occupied. Get out here.’
‘We’re busy,’ Serena said, loading her last bullet belt into the gatling gun. She was keeping the soldiers in the right hallway at bay while Valentine worked on the left. Bullet casings covered the floor like snow on Raursioc during winter.
The lights strobed on and off, rendering night vision useless. Serena and Valentine had trained intensively in situations with similar conditions to give them an edge. It looked like it was working. All the attacking soldiers’ accuracy was severely reduced. It made the scene appear like an old fashioned movie where each individual frame was distinguishable from the next.
‘Mierda,’ Serena said as her turret jammed. The soldiers who were hunkered in the hallway seized the opportunity. Fired. Serena ducked behind the bar.
Valenti
ne saw this from across the room, but he couldn’t leave cover without being eviscerated from two sides.
Serena edged around the bar’s corner, closest to the elevator. Two grenades were thrown at her. Serena drew a pistol that was holstered on her right hip. It wasn’t any ordinary pistol. It was actually an industrial strength adhesive applicator that could be used for reattaching heat mitigating ship panels in a pinch when welding wasn’t available.
But, Brigadier 1st Class Alura wasn’t content with it being a repair gun. She had modified it to fire with the speed of a bullet in gel-like, spherical form, comparable to old style shots. This trade-off meant a lesser degree of accuracy for increased surface area. She’d hoped not to use it since cleaning the residue was a pain in the ass. Then again, she’d also hoped that grenades weren’t thrown in the ship.
Eh, Valentine could foot the cleaning bill while she relaxed.
Serena fired what Valentine jokingly called her “googun.” The gel smacked into the grenades. Enveloped them. Once exposed — either to air or space’s cold void — the substance set rock hard within a few seconds. Their momentum was enough to return them to sender. Serena began leaving cover as the grenades exploded. The hardened gel that’d encased them turned into additional shrapnel.
Not giving her assailants a chance to recover, Serena drew her Riven sub-machine bullpup with holo-sight technology and alternate rifle firing mode. It was the most compact weapon of its kind on the market. And deadly accurate at mid to short distances despite its snub barrel. Serena unloaded a constant bullet stream. Each light flicker showed another body hitting the floor.
Serena pivoted behind the wall at the bar’s upper end moments before she ran dry. Now this was a better position. She’d copped a few shots during her advance. One bullet had implanted itself in her shoulder. Another in the plate which covered her clavicle. Three in her abdominals.
Normally this would’ve resulted in severe bruising. Possibly hairline fractures. But Serena’s armour had a gel layer beneath its plates that dissipated impact force, spreading it evenly across the body. This resulted in a wider field of pain but less internal trauma.
Across the room, Valentine was down to his last bandolier of bullets for his Cosmic Eagle. His Plasma Storm SMG was badly overheated. He thought the heatsink might’ve been cooked. He still had three pieces of sticky C4 on him though. Yeah, that could work.