There was a tiny sandpaper laugh from the panther mech as the drone from his power core revving up engulfed the room. He uncurled from beneath the table, a terrible death god rising after a single person discovered his name and believed.
“Why think small?” Fluff whispered. Some part of his Simicrion personality matrix hoped the Crucible didn't discriminate against bots, carrying the tiny prayer to his friend somewhere in the black.
“Let's get to work. And I do mean all of us.” Tarot ordered.
Kat's eyes were locked onto the motionless hand draping from the table. Despite Madame Tarot's passion, she couldn't bring herself to move, much less look away. She was right, though. Kat knew it. They were still in harm's way with unrestrained blues and nearly an entire regiment of troops above their head. For better or worse, she was a part of this new tribe. It was her responsibility to fight for it. Closing her eyes, she took a breath to steady herself, not because her cyborg body required it, but because the air rushing into her nose reminded her what it was to be human. After she let go of what it felt like to be a woman mourning the loss of something dear to her, she could be a leader. She was okay with that. She just needed this one moment to last a moment longer.
The feeling of a hand coming to rest on her shoulder jolted her out of her reverie.
“Eyes up, guns out.”
Epilogue
Lasher wiped the tears from his eyes, staring out from the view ports of the Feather's Shadow. The Crucible flowed through him, showing him the myriad of outcomes possible from that point when he'd left his friends. His family. He wore a slight smile until Singh came forward.
“I was relieved you chose a non-violent solution to this. There's been enough death between us.”
“Not yet,” Lasher said matter-of-factly.
The wraith angled himself so as to have a better position to fight. “So I can expect you to resist at some point?”
“No matter what happens, you end in pain.”
Singh tapped on his own neck, a reference to the NDP collar he had forced the fugitive to wear. “Based on your current situation, do you think that's really possible?”
Orin laughed at the ghost faced merc, “Today I watched a machine learn the weight of loss and then contemplate what it means to cry. The meaning of the word impossible just took a sharp turn the other way.”
“That may be, but I kept my word.”
“To the letter,” Lasher seethed. “You didn't go after them but your goons did. One of my friends died as a result. You came in here looking to cash in on my family's pain and then took me away from them when they needed me most. My friend, the machine, felt real pain. You taught him that. I wouldn't want to be you when this swings the other way.”
“And how many times do you think someone has made similar threats to me. I'm still here.” The Gun Wraith asked.
Lasher swung his chair to face the merc. He closed his eyes, the sound of rushing water filling the cabin. The NDP collar snapped into several pieces, casually falling from his neck. “When I finish my business on the other end of this flight, I'll lead Madame Tarot straight to the place you call home. What do you think a real Dreadmarr soldier would do to you and yours if she found her way to a colony of the Fallen?”
“It will be interesting to see what comes of your little predictions.”
“Fleet ID'd some sort of stealth craft leaving the area. They didn't pick it up on scanners until after it was gone. Something about a peculiar drive trail.”
“Thank you, Inspector Castillo.” Force Commander Hylaeus said.
“Marshal Truveau is leading the reassembled Devil Hunters into the catacombs beneath the far warehouse. She believes that Lasher might have triggered explosives to seal off some sort of lower research area.”
Hylaeus looked toward a crack in the dome, watching as local birds soared through the expanse indifferent to the warships floating there. “How is the recovery of the Tienshan Forest going?”
“Force Majeure and Athalon assets are on the ground, now, sir. They're pulling survivors out of the wreckage and we have medical teams in place to purge the tech. Initial estimates from both the Forest and here at the outpost number close to four thousand sapient life forms infected. Fleet estimates that it's a force equivalent to a division of standard troops based on their performance.”
“Issue to all commands. Any Swarm-tech we recover is to be destroyed. Anyone found in possession of it will have their head on the block.” Hyaleus ordered.
Castillo was hesitant with his response. “CENTCOM wants a sample.”
“To Hells with CENTCOM. If this stuff gets loose there's no telling how much damage it could do. One Swarm soldier is worth five non-enhanced. In the wrong hands this could go nuclear.”
“Yes sir.” Castillo said flatly. “I see you've cased a sample.”
“I'm taking it to someone I can trust to get it analyzed.” Hylaeus said, brooking no argument from the junior man. “Toward the end of the fight today, those pulse wave generators barely affected them. This is bad, Cas. Whatever the cartel is up to with it isn't going to be good for anyone. Plus we still haven't found the snakes in our garden.”
“I'm working on it.” Cas said, turning to the rows of bodies being bagged by members of the PARA.
“It maybe time to rattle the bushes to startle the snakes, then.”
The cold crisp air in the room felt good. Better than it had in a long time. He went to brush the sleep out of his eyes, only to find he couldn't move.
A woman, dark and interesting-looking in a way he couldn't describe popped her head into his field of vision. She reached over to manipulate something technical next to him. He could hear it beeping from beyond his field of vision..
“Revered Elder Mason. My name is Anyalara Singh. You probably don't remember, but twenty years ago, during the end of the Exodus Wars, you spared the life of an Exile soldier.”
“His name was Aryan. He swore he would pay me back one day. I told him it wasn't necessary. Where am I? Have I been drugged with something to change my voice?”
Anyalara put her hand on the man's shoulder. “You have a nerve block onboard as well as a Neural Distortion Projector keeping your Crucible abilities at bay. I want you to think back. Concentrate. What was the last thing you remember?”
“I was sweeping the steps.”
“And then?” Anyalara asked.
“No. That's not right. I was... talking to you. You reminded me of the Exile. His debt was yours. I don't understand.”
“I want you to key on the sound of my voice, Elder Mason. Use the memory techniques of the order. Focus on the last thing you remember and work backwards two steps before going forward again. I promise you, no harm will come to you. Everyone here wants nothing the best for you. Think two steps back and then come forward again.”
“The Gorgon Virus. You had a cure. I told you I wasn't interested. My life was lived. It was them. You said they needed my help. Genocide. A secret war. If I didn't help, they'd all be dead.”
Anyalara faced him, locking her stare with his. “And so I negotiated this new body for you. We've begun using a new process that we've never used with a Way Adherent. We don't know what will happen when we take off the NDP. We wanted you lucid before that happens.”
“My faculties are my own again, Miss. Do it.”
Singh stretched across him, pulling the collar from his neck. She ushered everyone from the room, not taking her eyes off the exit until everyone had made their way out.
“You're not going with them?” Mason asked
“You're no threat to me. What do you see?”
Mason closed his eyes. Connecting with the Crucible, he followed the pathways of his body to purge it of the nerve block. He sat up to swing his feet over the surgical table he was resting on. A medical team was watching him behind a massive ceramaclear barrier, waiting to see what would happen, next. Hopping from the table, Mason walked over to the glass to study his reflection. He still look
ed the same but was easily thirty years younger than he'd been hours ago. His movements came easily without any of the stiffness in his joints he'd been suffering from the virus. Mason put his hands on the glass. Images floated across the surface. They were blurred, mired in shadow and fog.
“I can see Tythian. War, but not the one you're referring to. An entire planet fighting with outsiders. There's a shadow king that thinks this is his key to everlasting power. He's wrong.” Mason stepped back away from the barrier. His breathing was coming in hurried gasps. “Something old lives on Tythian. Older than the Exodus Fleets. It was angry when Lashra woke it on his last trip there. Now it's furious you took him.”
“Trauma team, get him back on the table and sedated!” Anyalara shouted into the intercom on the wall.
Medical personnel poured from around the barrier to attend to the newly invigorated monk. He held up a hand, paralyzing them in place. Several struggled against the power of the Crucible. Some even managed to get another step for their effort.
“No. Like I told you before, Aryan, Anyalara Singh, my life was spent. I have seen amazing things in the galaxy. I regret nothing. But for a moment, I thought helping your people in return for a reprieve from the Gorgon Virus was a chance to do one last good thing in my life. But they've shown me the truth. The Crucible flows through the living, not through the damned.”
“That's a lie. You're proving them wrong, just by you standing there.” Anyalara protested. “Revered Elder, push through it. Forge a new destiny in the Crucible.”
Mason sunk to his knees, fighting to control the powerful forces surging through him. Anyalara knelt in front of him, holding his shoulders and his attention. His breathing was slowing, although a trickle of blood from his nose was a telltale sign that all was not right.
“He sees me.”
“Miss Singh, his vitals,” said one of the techs, now free from Mason's invisible grip.
Anyalara gave him a gentle shake to keep him from slipping away. “Who sees you, Mason?”
“The Lion. He sees me.”
Mason's eyes fluttered, like a child fighting to stay awake after a long day. Singh lowered his head to the floor.
“Miss Singh, all life functions have ceased and the cypher module was destroyed.”
Anyalara stood, brushing off her elegant skirt despite the surgery suite being antiseptically clean. “Very well. Set up the next one. We'll have another go twelve hours from now.”
“Yes, ma'am. Excuse me, but, the things he saw. What does it mean?” The tech asked.
“The end of us if we don't get this to work.”
Mara rounded the corner of the stone structure, exiting into the warm sun amid fields of grass. The path she was walking on was constructed of square blocks with etchings in them.
“What do they say?” Beth asked the marshal.
“Each one's different. They’re teachings in the Way.”
“And what's that, exactly?”
“Aren't you the curious little thing,” Mara said. “The Way is where a marshal finds their power. It's the balance of the universe where life resides. We focus our will into the Way and it helps us shape the outcome of events.”
Mara looked into the girl's face to find she had no idea what the marshal was talking about. Mara couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, it sounds goofy when you say it like that. Basically, when we concentrate really hard, we can pull off some incredible tricks on people.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“For us,” Mara winked at her.
“I'm scared,” Beth said in a small voice
“I was too. This is not an easy life. Our job is to protect the ones who can't protect themselves. And when we can't do that, we have to bring justice.”
Beth watched a bird land on one of the stones in the path. When it flitted off, she continued her trek with the Marshal. “Sounds intense.”
“It is. It's not a job that chooses you. You have to choose for yourself. It's a lot for someone your age, although I wasn't much older when the Lion found me.”
“The Lion?” Beth asked.
Mara smiled. She hadn't felt pride like this in a long time. Not since working with Seladriel. She held out the cord on her shoulder. “That's who we are. The Lions of Athalon. One of them found and protected me when my home was attacked by the Exos. I remember huddling in a hole with my brother, praying they wouldn't notice us. I felt so helpless when they aimed those big guns at us. That's when he showed up. The Lion wore this amazing armor wrapped in a red cloak. There was a fantastic crest on his helmet and he had a shield in front of us with this crazy energy spear facing the monster. He cut the thing nearly in half with one swipe. Then, when it stumbled back, the Lion yelled at it and it exploded. I'll never forget that day.”
She looked down to see Beth staring up at her, eyes wide with wonder. “You saw my memory, didn't you? Wait, why are you crying?”
“His name is Marco.” Beth said, wiping away her tears.
“Yes. Marco Sorrin.”
“I have to find him.”
It was Mara's turn to be surprised. “Wait. What?”
“Marco. I have to find him.”
“Little cub, he disappeared years ago. He might even have passed into the Crucible by now. Why would you need to find him?”
“For Kel and Lasher. To save my friends.” Beth's eyes were ablaze with intensity under her tears. They were resolute in her will to make her statement a reality.
“One step along the path at a time, little cub.”
They walked the rest of it, ending in a copse of trees wrapped around a small pond. Fish darted in and out from the vegetation, giving hints of magnificent color in a swirl of activity that only made sense to them. Kneeling at the end of the path was a man, naked above the waist, wrapped in scars. On the back of his neck was a tattoo of a scale balancing a sword and a feather. Beth could feel the power radiating from him. It was old power filled with legacy. There was a sword floating in front of him. It was in parts, orbiting in front of his face. Piece for piece, the handle inserted itself against the blade in a choreographed reassembly.
“I smell the smoke. You’re thinking something above your pay grade.”
“Bethayell, may I introduce you to Marshal Ezekiel Brand, Commander of the newly christened Devil Lions.”
“We’re not calling them that.” Brand said.
Mara looked hurt by the statement. “You don't like it?”
The face the lioness made at watching both Beth and Brand shake their head no at the same time said everything her words couldn’t. “Oh twin hells, you two were made for each other.”
Brand approached, towering over both of them. He reached out his hand, taking Beth’s arm by the wrist. “Good to meet you Bethayell. I have it on good authority you volunteered to be the apprentice I was volun… told to take.”
Mara made another face. “Listen big brother, if you don’t want her, I’ll take Beth with me. She’s good company, smart, and she’s mighty strong in the Crucible without even knowing it. Just imagine when she’s trained.”
“I don’t need convincing, Lioness. I just want to know who I’m talking to. Beth, I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
He knelt in front of her with his head bowed, his sword held in front of her. It looked old and well worn, although it smelled of cleaning oils. The blade had seen the frequent care of a prized possession. Beth blushed at the mammoth soldier bowing to her.
“Hey, you found your nose!” Mara said.
“You lost your nose?” Beth asked
“I did. Poison gas ate most of my face off. I’m better now, though.”
“Brand! You’ll scare her.”
“According to the file, she tracked down and killed the thing that took her parents. I’m not worried about her being afraid of any of my stories. What interests me was your conversation on the way here. It would seem we have the same mission.”
Beth scrunched her brow. “We do?”
“You
do?” Mara said, almost on top of Beth’s response.
Brand laughed at their excitement. “Yes. There’s a reason the Crucible sought to put you with a Devil Hunter. We’re going to wake the dead.”
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ALSO IN THE HUNTER’S MOON SERIES
THE MONGREL
THE REVENANT
THE SENTINEL
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