by Nina D'Aleo
“Heat scan,” he told his implant, moving his eyes over the rubble. It found nothing.
He changed scan-type to body shape and looked again. The front-core beeped as it picked up on something and zeroed in on the location. It was a man’s form. Eli ran, scrambling through the ruins to the indicated spot. He grabbed up handfuls of rock, hurling them aside, digging desperately until finally he touched something cold. He seized hold of it and dragged it out from the debris. A metal hand attached to a metal arm.
“Jude!” Eli shouted, the sound swallowed by the wind.
He shoved rocks and dirt off Jude’s face and chest. He found his other arm was crushed under a slab of rock, white Androt blood spilling out from where the prosthetic had half ripped away from skin and flesh. SevenM lay beside Jude. Both were unmoving.
“Jude, wake up!” Eli shook him, but he didn’t stir. He wasn’t breathing. Eli checked his pulse – nothing. With shaking hands, Eli grabbed the coronary defibrillation device off his belt. He turned the settings to full strength and positioned it over Jude’s chest, waiting for the green light. It flashed on and Eli brought the paddles downward. Just before they contacted with Jude, SevenM struggled to lift his torso, teetering for a moment, then collapsing again. Eli stared in shock. SevenM moving meant Jude was still alive – but with no signs of life.
“Show neural patterning,” Eli ordered his front-core. It brought up a display of his friend’s brain. Everything was still functioning, but his body had completely shut down. After a moment of confusion, Eli spotted an injury in Jude’s side. He hadn’t immediately seen it because of the dust and rock fragments. It was a stab wound, and it looked as though the blade had been coated with some kind of necrotic poison. Jude’s skin and muscles around the injury had blackened and eroded away. It was a devastating enough injury to have triggered his Androt half into shutting him down. But he was still alive – and that was all that mattered.
“I’m here, Jude, I won’t leave you,” Eli told him as he grabbed tourniquet pins off his belt and injected them all around the wound to stop the poison spreading. He was reaching for a bandage when he felt the bridge shiver and tilt with the ominous sound of straining metal. It was about to break away and drop without relief to Level 2.
Eli looked around wildly for something to help him lift Jude. He had explosives on his belt that could implode the boulder pinning Jude’s arm, but Androts, even half-breeds, were extremely heavy – none of his equipment was made for supporting that weight. Eli spotted a window leading into a lower level of the palace grounds below the Hero’s Walk.
“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said to Jude.
He ran across the groaning bridge and darted through the window. There were still masses of people from the fight-in crowd fleeing on foot to Level 2, where the public elevator system was reportedly up and running. Eli scanned the crowd and one group of people immediately sprang into focus. They were impossible to miss. A family of Corámorán Giants, gargantuan-breeds, was lumbering toward the stairs. There were at least ten of them, but Eli only needed one. He half-ran, half-flew over the top of the crowd, finally reaching the Corámoráns. He ran alongside three of them, shouting, “Can you help me? Please – my friend is stuck! The bridge is collapsing!”
When he got no response, he sped up to the next cluster of four, “Please – my frie—”
One of them lazily swished his club and swiped Eli away. He skidded across the floor, under the feet of the crowd, and rolled out the other side, hitting the wall with a thud. He scrambled back up and looked across to the giants. Only one was left, walking slower, with her arms and legs in shackles. Eli flew to her side.
“Please,” he called out to her. “My friend. He’s not stuck – I mean, he’s stuck – he’s stuck. The bridge – it’s falling. Please, will you help?”
She turned her head, and he saw himself reflected in the deep dark of her eyes – then she nodded.
Eli almost fainted with relief. The giant held up her chained wrists and he grabbed the cutter off his belt and freed her. She shook off the binds.
“This way!” Eli called. He led her back to the window. She busted through it and stepped onto the bridge, which rumbled and tilted more under each of her giant steps.
“This rock is pinning him!” Eli yelled above the wind, pointing to the slab crushing Jude’s arm.
The giant lifted it and threw it aside with enough strength to make even the immensely powerful Christy Shawe look pathetically weedy. Eli carefully folded Jude’s damaged arm across his chest. There was no time to set it. The bridge was sinking fast. The Corámorán sensed it too. She lifted Jude without straining and Eli snatched up SevenM. They made a run for the window, but before they made it, the bridge broke away and started to fall. The giant lunged for the ledge and hooked it with one arm. Eli buzzed his wings and grabbed onto her back. She dragged them both through and they landed down inside the chamber, breathing heavily.
Eli’s eyes went to hers and he started to say, “Thank you so —”
A spiked club crashed down on the Corámorán’s head, smashing her sideways. She crouched over Jude as the group of giants closed in on her, roaring and raining club blows down on her head and back. They were going to kill her.
“Stop!” Eli screamed at them, with zero effect.
He grabbed the electrifier off his belt and released a blast into the ceiling.
The giants bellowed at him, but he kept firing, forcing them back. When they finally retreated, Eli turned his attention to the bashed giantess. He didn’t know why they’d returned to hurt her, and there wasn’t time now to find out.
“Are you okay?” He grabbed her arm.
She blinked, dazed and bleeding, but managed to nod.
“We have to go and find a transflyer. Can you walk?” he asked her.
With a grunt she maneuvered her massive bulk upright, lifting Jude with her.
Eli led them up a flight of stairs, back to the top story of Level 1 and through the garden to the landing platforms where all the transflyers had been parked. He’d been hoping there would be something left they could use, but everyone had flown out. He looked back at the giant holding Jude like a ragdoll. He was so still.
A violent gust of wind shoved Eli back, turning him toward the city view. Scorpia, like the shimmering body of a giant beast, stretched out into the desert before him. His mind spun. What should he do? Who was left he could trust? One name came to mind.
“Call Commander Santana,” he ordered his front-core.
The system buzzed and connected with the simpler com system the Fen sniper commander still used.
“Anklebiter?” Santana spoke.
“It’s not me,” Eli said, then cursed. “I mean – it’s me. Are you in Sirenseron?”
“Negative. We’re still on our way. There was trouble with the craft. Are K-Ruz and Commander Kane in the rink yet?”
Eli paused. “Something’s happened – I need your help …”
Santana’s voice darkened. “We’re close. We can see the Palace now. What’s your location?”
“East. Landing Quadrant.”
“Sit tight. Almost on you.”
The connection ended and almost immediately Eli heard the drone of the United Resistance craft, an ancient, blimpish mass-mover. He checked on Nelly as it touched down on the other end of the quadrant. She was busy biting holes in his pocket. Santana and a bunch of soldiers jumped out and ran across the zone in formation, their electrifiers drawn.
“What happened here?” Santana shouted when he was close enough. “Looks like a bomb blast!” He saw Eli’s arm and cursed, then looked behind him to Jude and cursed louder.
“We were attacked. Enemy unknown. Jude needs help fast,” Eli told him.
“We’ll take him to the refuge center.”
“No, I need my equipment. I need to go to our hide in Moris-Isles.”
Santana’s face twitched and Eli felt a sinking in his gut.
“Wha
t is it?”
“I got word from some Spotters. Your boarding house has been burned down …”
The mention of fire stirred Eli’s senses. Why were they being targeted? Was it connected to the witches? His mind jumped to Silho’s note in his pocket.
“I have a hangar. We can go there instead,” Eli said. “I’ve stored copies of mostly everything.”
“Whatever you need,” Santana told him. “Commander Kane?”
Eli flinched and Santana said, “Tell me on the way.”
The Fen beckoned to the giant and the group of them ran to the transporter.
As they lifted away from the Palace, Eli replayed the attack footage for Santana and his team. This time, when the lights flared at the end of the recording, Eli recognized something that panic and fear had made him miss the first time around. That blinding blaze was a very unique type of light, and he’d only seen it once before – in Englan Chrisholm’s cell as his portal had opened. Eli watched the attack a third time in slowed motion, and saw the commander and everyone not falling, but vanishing into the light – into the portal. Eli’s heart lifted – he’d feared they’d been incinerated, but it now looked as though they’d actually jumped realms.
There was still hope.
Chapter 9
Diega
Praterius
Rambeldon Forest (Fairfields)
Diega burst from the light into open air. She plunged, tumbling and crashing out of control. Blurred forms flashed past. Sharp points ripped her face. She plummeted down as the ground rushed up. And then she hit. A patch of long grass softened the blow, but still it knocked her breathless. She lay there with her face in the dirt, stunned, struggling to force air into her lungs. Finally she managed a ragged gasp, followed by another, and after a third, she rolled onto her back. The sky above was an unnatural shade of purple and the daylight stars, always visible to Fen eyes, were gone. It wasn’t possible.
Diega clutched her chest and sat up. The high grasses obscured her sight on all sides. She drew her electrifier and raised herself to the height of the grass tops, checking all around her for the shimmer of Tehron that would tell her somebody was waiting in ambush.
Seeing none, she stood. The field around her stretched out and downward to the edge of a pinewood forest. Diega held her breath and listened. A bird cheeped, insects chirred and whirred, and a whispering breeze swished the grasses, stirring sweet scents of pine needles and vanilla flowers.
Diega slipped her com from her belt and whispered into it, “Connect tracker team.” The signal didn’t connect. She checked the device and found it had shorted out. Most likely the fall had been too much for it.
Ahead, the grasses rustled. Diega ducked low again, and heard a heavy groan. She aimed her electrifier toward the sound as the colossal meathead Christy Shawe hauled his muscle-suffocated carcass into sight.
He muttered a curse and reached a hand behind him, then started lumbering in circles as though he thought that would help extend his grasp. He turned Diega’s way and spotted her. Aggression tightened his face, then he recognized her, and the tense lines relaxed, even though she still held the electrifier pointed straight at his head.
“Don’t just stand there, sunshine,” he growled. “Tell me what’s on my back.”
“I told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t call me sunshine, you trutting podsucking gadfly.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, princess,” he mocked her, looking even more asinine than he usually did. “Is buttercup better? How about sugar-pie?”
Diega grimaced with the immensity of her loathing for Shawe. She tested her finger on the trigger. This was where Copernicus usually stepped in, told them both to shut it, but he wasn’t here – and neither were Jude, Silho or Eli …
Scenes of the fight at the palace returned to her in blurred flashes. Everything had gone down so quickly. They were struggling to free Silho and then they were falling. She’d thought they’d toppled off the side of the Walk, but clearly not. She hesitated, then lowered her weapon.
“Where the hell are we?” she asked Shawe.
“Do I look like the trutting encyclopedia of the universe?” he said, still clutching at his back.
“No, you look like a shaved ape wearing pants,” she muttered, shoving her electrifier into its holster. She trudged through the grasses to where the gangster struggled.
“Stop moving!” she ordered, then lifted the back of his shirt.
The sight that met her eyes sent a shot of weakness through her knees. She’d seen several lifetimes worth of distressing and gruesome wounds, but she’d never seen this level of injury on a person who was still alive. Shawe’s lower back was a complete mess – the skin was gone, as well as several layers of muscle, leaving only bloodied meat. She thought she might even be seeing some exposed spine. Diega couldn’t understand why he hadn’t already bled out.
“What?” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her.
Diega stared at him incredulously. Did he really not feel how bad this was?
She took the compact mirror off her belt and held it up so he could see the reflection of his wounds. He spat out a long mouthful of curses.
“What happened? What did this?” Diega asked.
“What do you think? Trutting fire-breather stabbed me – he got Kane too.”
A sick feeling lurched in her stomach. Shawe had phenomenally tough skin and he had still sustained this level of damage – what would it have done to Copernicus if he’d been hit? They had to find him, fast.
Diega checked her com again – still dead. She dragged out her body scanner, heat sensor and navigator, but found everything was similarly fried. All her tracking equipment was now useless. Even her electrifier, she discovered, had malfunctioned. They’d have to conduct a search the primitive way, line by line through the grass.
Shawe saw her looking around and said, “He’s not here.”
“How do you know?” she demanded.
The gangster looked her up and down with an arrogance in his sewerage-green eyes that said he wouldn’t be explaining himself to the likes of her. “Because I know.”
“Good for you,” she spat back. She left him and walked higher up the slope. From that height she could see where she and Shawe had hit, but there were no other signs of disturbances to the grass. No one else had fallen here.
Diega moved back down to see Shawe ripping up his jacket and trying to use it to bind the gaping and horrific wound in his back. He grunted as material touched raw flesh. Just witnessing it sent shocks of pain through Diega’s own skin.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m belly-dancing – what does it look like, woman?” he said.
Diega was so sorely tempted to let him go, but at this moment he was her only ally in a strange place – a place where Copernicus was potentially lost and critically injured.
“If you put that straight onto the wound, it’ll fuse with the scabbing and rip open again as soon as you take it off,” she explained. “You have to have a layer of anti-adhesive underneath it.”
“And where am I going to get anti-adhesive?” Shawe said. “Do you see any shops around here?”
“Just – stop talking,” Diega muttered. She grabbed a pack of synthetic skins off her belt. She sprayed Shawe’s wound with antiseptic and coagulators then applied the skins over the top. Somehow Shawe managed to keep his enormous mouth shut while she worked.
“We have to find the others,” she told him, tying the strips of his jacket over the skins. “If Copernicus was stabbed, like you said he was, he’ll be in a bad way.”
She heard a gulp and looked up to see Shawe swigging Araki from his silver flask. She was telling him Copernicus could be seriously injured, even dead, and he was busy getting pissed.
“You don’t care about anyone except yourself, do you?” she said. “You’re just a trutting pisshead thug.”
He looked back at her, his eyes hardening. “Sweetheart – hon
estly – I’m cutting you a break because obviously your early experiences of being bedded by every gangster in the city must have messed with your brain, but you’re testing me.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she growled.
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, then grabbed her collar and tugged it to one side, exposing the bruising on her neck. “Like it rough, do you, sunshine?”
Diega felt the vicious burn of humiliation. “Shut it!”
Shawe snorted. “Why would you go and do something as stupid as paying for that, when you could go down to the Isles and get someone to smash in your face for free?”
“I’ll smash in your face for free if you don’t shut it!” she shouted.
Shawe just laughed at her. A film of red closed over Diega’s eyes. She felt her colors flare as she snatched the blade off her belt and launched herself at him – stabbing him right in the chest. The blade snapped in half and dropped to the ground between them. It was her favorite blade, the one Copernicus had given to her when he recruited her into the trackers. That had been the best day of her life.
Diega kneeled and picked up the broken blade. She whispered to morph it back onto the hilt. It didn’t shift. It was then that she really noticed that her eyesight was different – the edges of the blade were solid. She stared around with growing disbelief. Everything was solid. Her skills were not working here – wherever here was – because they were definitely not in Scorpia.