Beyond Antares Dimensional Gates

by Edited by Brandon Rospond

  A call through the strike squad shard brought him back to attention.

  “Dahrius? What’s wrong?”

  * * * *

  Var’zyle cursed as he listened to his squad leaders report in. “Get back here, both of you. Aelthris, bring back those Interceptors if you can. Even if the shard won’t let you use them, you can push the fallen on them. Dahrius, I’m glad the neutralizer worked, but make sure she stays down until we get off-world.”

  The commander drone approached and the lights blinked several times. “Senior Strike Leader.”

  “What is it, Mandarin?” Var’zyle did his best to control his anger, but the seething red nearly clouded his vision. “You wanted specimens and information, well we damn well have some now.”

  “Yes, Senior Strike Leader Var’zyle, it is clear that the specimen now known as GOR-8671 is responsible for infiltrating the Concord troopers’ suits with some strange hallucinogenic. The makeup of the being’s quills seems to penetrate past the hyperlight shielding and the physical suit, delving into the subject’s mind and creating a vision of fear.”

  “Yes, and it cost us another trooper infected and five dead.” Var’zyle exhaled out through his nose and then shook his head as he faced the drone. “What can we do to save the others? Are there any cures?”

  “Unfortunately, there are not at this time. The best possible solution is still to subdue the Concord troopers and bring them back by force.”

  A vicious force rocked the already unstable structure they were in, raining gravel around Var’zyle. The building itself suffered no damage, but the explosion caused the whole thing to shake terribly. After steadying himself, the shard was flooded with reports from his squadmates. Just what they needed right now – an x-launcher. He checked the shielding; still at seventy-two quantum. They could withstand only a few more of those.

  “Does anyone have eyes on the damn thing?!”

  Another shot rocked the ruined base.

  “Got it!” Kaila responded. Var’zyle moved to the window on the base floor, watching as several plasma shots came from the upper level. Moments passed and there were no more explosive rounds that came their way.

  “Good work, Kaila. Arturis, Xander, with me. Borrock and Kaila, covering fire. Minimal casualties – we want to try and bring these people back with us.”

  Var’zyle gave one last look at the drone commander, who was oddly silent, before the two troopers were on Var’zyle, drones in tow. The group rushed out the entranceway and into the cover of the ruined town once more, the occasional colorful glint of their hyperlight shielding absorbing a stray plasma. Once finally in position, Var’zyle inclined his head so he could be heard over the synthecrete block he was using as cover.

  “Tykus! Are you out there?”

  “Who the hell are you to know my name?!”

  “Tykus, it’s Kyrrto! You have to listen to me, your men have to stand down!”

  There was a pause, but when Odiwing spoke again, there was a rage behind the gritted teeth that Var’zyle had never heard before. “That name is the last you will ever speak. How dare you defile the name of Kyrrto Var’zyle!”

  Var’zyle had to duck further down as the plasma fire came in fiercer and more pinpoint than the last barrage, splintering away his cover faster than the shield drone could protect him. “Tykus, dammit, listen to me! Ral’sitan has already been subdued. You have to listen to me!”

  Odiwing did not respond that time. Var’zyle became aware with how poorly thought-out the situation was. Odiwing must have still had at least one more strike squad with him, probably led by Cyphus Ferosal, the other strike leader who had not returned, while Var’zyle was only here with two other troopers.

  “Dahrius, Aelthris, where the blazes are you two?!”

  Moments later, a chorus of plasma added its fire in from the east.

  “Sorry, Senior. We’re down a man, but we’re here.”

  Var’zyle was relieved to hear Dahrius’s voice as he fired a few blindshots across at the enemy Concord troopers. His shard assured him some of the heavy fire had let up again, so he could at least help as best he could.

  “Kaila, do I have a clear path anywhere?”

  “Dahrius’s forces seemed to have engaged most of the enemy. There is minor resistance to the west of where you are.”

  Var’zyle waited another moment until he felt confident enough to move. He threw himself out from the left of the almost destroyed block, pushing his body to sprint as fast as it could. As he darted from cover to cover, he would answer an occasional stray plasma bolt with one of his own, only praying that it was not his own people he was firing back at.

  He bounded over a piece of fallen grating, and there, at the opposite end of the pathway, Tykus Odiwing appeared at the same time. Both men instinctively raised their guns to fire, but Var’zyle hesitated. Instead of being blown apart from the stream of plasma fire, a white-clad trooper leapt into the alley from another pathway, gun raised. Before he could fire a single shot, the stream from behind made sure the Concord soldier would not be returning to the field of combat in that body. Var’zyle threw himself against a wall for cover just before the plasma tore through the enemy trooper and onto where he just stood.

  “I don’t know who or what you are,” Odiwing called out down the path, “but you’ll pay for manipulating Cyphus. He was a damn good man.”

  Var’zyle grit his teeth in anger; the downed man was Odiwing’s last strike leader. “Tykus, are you that far gone that you can’t see you just shot clean through your own man?!”

  “If he was my own man, my shard wouldn’t have let me fire. Just what the hell are you?”

  “Tykus, it’s me!” Var’zyle was ready to punch the wall out of exasperation. “We went through the ranks together, we fought alongside each other for more years than I can remember!”

  Var’zyle had figured that Odiwing would try coming down the path after him, but he was slightly thrown off when he heard the soft shuffling; it sounded as if, disorientated, Odiwing had fallen against a wall.

  “You-… Get out of my head alien bastard!”

  Var’zyle lunged; he had been right, Odiwing was almost upon him; closer than he even thought. The plasma carbines fell, forgotten in the struggle, and both men fought to remain on their feet; but ultimately, Var’zyle had the element of surprise and managed to knock Odiwing down. Once on his back, Odiwing pressed upward and back with his knee, catching Var’zyle unexpectedly, and tossing him onto his back. On top of Var’zyle, Odiwing pulled his plasma pistol out from his hip and fired. Var’zyle managed to sway his upper half over just enough to dodge, and then with the rest of his lower half, flung Odiwing off him and against a wall.

  Both men got to their feet, almost two arm’s length apart, both breathing heavily. Odiwing pulled his helmet off, discarding it to the side. His bulging, almost completely brown, eyes radiated with madness; his hair and beard were much longer than Concord regulation. The deep, almost red, circles under his eyes spoke of too many sleepless nights. Tykus Odiwing was the representation of madness.

  “C’mon you Isorian bastard! If you’re going to kill me, let me at least stare into the face of my murderer!”

  Afraid of what the atmosphere would do to his mind completely helmetless, Var’zyle made his faceplate transparent for his long-time friend to see the face within.

  “Tykus, please, it’s me.” Var’zyle’s voice was soft, quieter than he realized, and it finally hit him that he would have to actually fight the man who he had spent most of his military career fighting alongside; the one man he trusted with his life on more occasions than he could recall. “You have to fight this damn alien toxin. It’s me, Va-…”

  “Don’t you dare!” Odiwing roared as he came in swinging his right fist.

  Var’zyle raised an arm just in time to deflect most of the blow, but that didn’t stop Odiwing from laying into him with fists flying, and knees and feet raining in hard. Var’zyle didn’t feel any pain physicall
y, but he was jolted back and forth, and his mind couldn’t put together the picture he was seeing. It took everything within him to grab the right fist of Odiwing with his left, and then one solid punch to the exposed head with his right.

  The leader spiraled down, winded. He raised his head and spat out blood, staring with strain at his opposition. Var’zyle stepped up to him and held out the micro x-launcher on his wrist. Before anymore curses could be uttered, the neutralizing net leapt out and silenced Var’zyle’s friend.

  * * * *

  Thaniel Aelthris lay on the bed in his sparse quarters above Tenacity’s Virtue. He stared blankly up at the ceiling of the compartment, not really focusing on anything, not really thinking any thoughts. After a mission, he’d usually like to reflect on what happened, what he could improve on, and what he could tell the members of his squad. This was a mission unlike any other.

  He just felt numb. He supposed he should feel thankful that they recovered many of the poisoned troopers, and those that they couldn’t were freed from their twisted prisons and could be reuploaded to new bodies. Instead he just felt numb.

  There was a light pinging noise that signaled someone was at his door. He sat up and the door opened; it was Var’zyle.

  “Kyrrto?”

  The senior strike leader exhaled deeply and plopped down on the bunk next to Aelthris.

  “What a mess that was.”

  “Yeah, you’re not kidding.” Aelthris let a few moments pass in silence before he spoke again. “What did the mandarin say about Gorymol?”

  “Well, he stayed planetside for quite some time with his drone and discovered that there is a whole nest of those… things down there. They stem from some greater creature that resembles a giant fungus – complete with spider-like limbs, multiple eyes, and rows upon rows of teeth.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Aelthris rolled his eyes. “We’ll have to get a rain check on seeing that thing.”

  “The planet is being abandoned until the IMTel can think of a way to deal with these creatures. And that could take a long time.”

  “Hopefully a very long time.” They both nodded and Aelthris let a few more moments pass. “How’s Odiwing?”

  Var’zyle frowned.

  “Sedated, along with Ral’sitan, Ruzea, and the rest of the infected troopers. The… contamination doesn’t seem to spread once it’s infected someone. It seems like what happened on the Glorious Determination was that some spores found their way back onto the ship when the frantic troopers tried to escape. It seems where they landed initially, they had been in the thick of those creatures’ lair. Absolutely saddening.”

  “I agree. It seems like they were all fighting different, unseen enemies. Ral’sitan was even fighting spiders at one point.”

  “Yes, that is correct. Once they’ve been decontaminated and gone through vigorous psychological reconditioning, they’ll be issued new suits. And of course, after some much needed time off.”

  “Right. And you? Are you… okay? I can’t imagine what it would be like if you and I ever came to blows.”

  Var’zyle stood up with a serious expression, but he clapped a hand on Aelthris’s shoulder and smiled. “I’ll be fine, Thane. Take this time to rest up while you can.”

  “New mission, Senior?”

  Var’zyle started walking out of the room but stopped in the doorway and nodded. “New orders. Effective immediately. Seems there’s no rest for the weary.”

  A Scream in Silence

  By C. L. Werner

  The currents of plasma whipped around the Revenger as the ship plowed through the photosphere of Antares. This near to the Tropics of Obureg the stormy drifts were magnified to a tremendous degree, testing the durability of the vessel's construction. The violent pressures pulled at the protective fields that surrounded the hull, dragged at the powerful engines that propelled the ship through the cyclonic forces. It was a strain that couldn't long be endured without damage. Only the most reckless voyagers would subject themselves to the elemental violence without being certain of their objective.

  From the Revenger's bridge, Viridi Torani vet Alkasta could see the gaping maw of a tunnel protruding up through the plasma. It was the third the ship had drawn toward since plunging into the photosphere. She glanced anxiously at the navigator. Dravein na Froterri fretted over his console, sounding the key upon which the ambitions of Vardos Torani depended. His gaze kept turning back to the screen that would alert him the moment there was resonance. The moment the gate that corresponded to the key reacted to the transmission.

  “The Grey Gods will laugh at my death.” The growled curse hissed out from between the triangular fangs of the huge brute who stood beside Alkasta. She turned her gaze away from Dravein's labors and scowled up at Gravikk. The mercenary stood head and shoulders above her, his features rendered almost inhuman by the gene-splicing he'd undergone. His skin was hard and leathery, almost scaly in its texture. His teeth were double-rows of saw-edged fangs. His eyes were yellow with slitted pupils that reminded her of some ophidian creature. An interlaced vest of metal and polymers encased his barrel-like chest, while a skirt of armor spilled down to his knees. Even on the ship's bridge he had a brace of energy pistols hanging from his belt, and a monstrous knife protruded from a sheath on his right boot. The mercenary considered himself unarmed if he had less than a half-dozen weapons on his person.

  “Don't go feral on me,” Alkasta chided Gravikk. Compared to the hulking mercenary, she presented a slight, almost diminutive figure. The billowy leggings and the voluminous sleeves of her shirt were delicate in contrast to Gravikk's armor. No weapons hung from the belt that circled her waist, no blade bulged from the side of her knee-length boots. Yet of the two, it was Alkasta who was considered the more deadly. Champion of the Doma Undari sept Torani, she'd engaged in hundreds of duels on behalf of her master and fought in dozens of battles to uphold the authority of Vard Torani. The toll of adversaries she'd killed had grown to where even she'd lost track of them.

  Gravikk shook his head and let out a reptilian hiss. “Leave the superstition to Kashar. I know. But since the feral is off in some corner of the hold praying the ship doesn't come apart, I thought there'd be no harm filling in for him.”

  “You shouldn't,” Alkasta told the mercenary.

  “What? Start acting like Kashar?”

  “No,” Alkasta said, turning back to watch Dravein. “Start thinking. After all this time, I've never known you to be very good at it.”

  The navigator abruptly swung around in his seat, snapping hurried instructions to Nagrin, the Revenger's captain. A short, stocky man with fleshy features and a build that was straying toward obesity, Nagrin was even more tense than Dravein. The multi-hued locks of his long hair were plastered to his forehead by sweat, his jaw clenched so tight that Alkasta wondered how his jeweled teeth could take the strain. When he heard the navigator call to him, Nagrin moved instantly, hands slapping to the controls he'd been eagerly waiting to initiate. The ship trembled as the captain arrested its drive across the photosphere and brought it diving toward the swirling maw of the gate.

  “Doma Undari, we're making the approach now,” Nagrin called across the bridge to the noble standing across the command center watching the tempest raging outside the ship's viewports.

  Doma Undari sept Torani glanced over at the captain and favored him with a curt nod of acknowledgment. Even with the ship shuddering from the strain of the tumultuous voyage, the noble maintained his attitude of aloofness bordering upon disinterest. His raiment was opulent; threads of synthetic sapphire woven into a long double-cloak, a lush vest of golden brocade dripping with laser-etched pendants displaying the heraldry of Vardos Torani, slim breeches of finest vat-silk that bloomed out in a broad flare before sinking into the confines of calf-length multi-hide boots.

  Doma Undari had strong features, a face that hearkened more than a little to Vard Torani himself. The stamp of ambition was written in every line of his visage. He desired a great pl
ace for himself among the Torani Freetraders and he would balk at nothing that might further his aims, however daring. It was his failing that he couldn't be bothered with the details necessitated by his plans. That factor combined with his singular boldness had kept Alkasta more than busy meeting the challenges of her master's enemies.

  Alkasta walked over to the Doma. “My lord, it would be wise to resume your seat,” she said, keeping her tone low so that only her master could hear her. Undari wasn't above taking advice, but above all he was concerned about appearances. If Alkasta's words carried to other ears, Undari would reject them out of hand – however practical her caution might be.

  “How long will the approach take?” Undari asked Nagrin. “I understand that we can expect quite a jolt the deeper into the tunnel we descend.”

  Nagrin risked looking away from his control boards to give Undari his full attention. “That is correct, my lord. The deeper down the gate is, the more strain it will put on the ship. We don't...”

  Undari raised his hand, stifling further explanation. “I will leave our safe conduct in your hands, Captain.” He looked over at Alkasta. “It would be best if we took to our seats during the tumult.”

  Alkasta bowed her head. “As you command, my lord.” She withdrew back to the brace of chairs that lined one wall of the command bridge. Crash couches for passengers where they would be kept safe and, more importantly, well out of the way of the ship's crew. She could see a few of the other guards already in position while Gravikk fumbled about with the polarized catches of his safety harness. Even Lydiana ur Heigvari, the expedition's ethnobiologist, had taken to one of the couches. Her distaste for being in such close proximity to the mercenaries was obvious, but her harsh expression was sharp as a knife when Alkasta sat down beside her.