“Curse you!” Orin screamed, pulling back a bleeding, charred hand to pummel his opponent. At the same time a pulser went tumbling across the room. Both men abandoned their grappling and went scrambling for it. Kelm grabbed hold of it first, but Orin clamped both hands around his adversary’s wrist, keeping him from aiming it at him. Orin’s mangled hand was slowly losing its grip. If Matthew didn’t do something quickly, Kelm would be able to fire the pulser.
The timer continued on to 0:14.
Matthew’s entire right arm, the one with his pulser, slipped free, as did most of his head and his left leg. Orin shifted, moving in the way of Matthew’s shot.
At 0:11 Orin lost his grip and Matthew heard the buzzing squelch of a pulser discharging. Orin cried out in pain and collapsed on top of the Delegation traitor. The sentinel was dead.
Matthew’s right leg below the knee and his left arm below the elbow were still caught in the shield, but he had his thumb on the pulser’s trigger, waiting to press it the moment he had an open shot.
Can I do this? The thought leapt into his mind. Can I kill this man? Matthew may have been a soldier with the Delegation, but he had no memory of that life. As far as he knew, he had never killed anyone before.
Kelm rolled Orin off him. His back still faced Matthew. Matthew had a clear shot, but he wavered. He was still pushing through the shield and the effort made it hard to steady his wrist. Sweat coated his palms, loosening his grip on his weapon. If he missed, he would give himself away to Kelm. Kelm might fire back before Matthew could get a second shot off. Matthew would be an easy target while trapped by the invisible shield.
In that moment of hesitation Kelm rose to his feet and turned. Their eyes locked.
The timer flashed 0:09 as Matthew broke free of the shield.
He fired, but the shot went well wide of Kelm, burying itself into one of the panels where it dissipated harmlessly into the glassy material.
Kelm whipped his gun up and instinctively Matthew dove to the side and hit the floor just as Kelm’s pulser went off. A streak of heat whizzed over him, the shot just missing. It sailed past Matthew and ricocheted off the shield behind him. The beam launched straight back at Kelm, plunging into his chest.
“You?” The word shot from Kelm’s mouth like a second volley. His eyes bulged in horrified recognition as if he realized who Matthew was just before the end. He clutched his chest, a bright red glow seeping out around his fingers. Then he fell to the floor, killed by his own weapon.
Matthew dashed over to the instrument panel and slammed his hand onto the omniclast override control, a bright red circle in the middle of the panel, just as the timer ticked to 0:06.
A silver smooth voice spoke into the air. “Generational signature not recognized. Override failed,” it said.
A signature? Did it need Kelm to override it? Matthew’s mind scrambled.
The time flipped to 0:04. He grabbed hold of Kelm’s dead hand and dragged it up to hit the button again.
“Invalid input. Override failed,” the voice said.
The screen turned to 0:02.
Panicking, Matthew did the only thing he could think of, he slammed his pulser into the panels. He brought it down over and over again. The panel shattered and cracked where his blows landed, but it would not go dark. Looking up, he saw the screens go to 0:00.
“Omniclast fully charged,” said the toneless voice. “Awaiting command to fire on target.”
The weapon was only charging?
Matthew ran to one of the other panels, searching for the visual controls. A carousel of various views caught his eye and he ran his finger along them and flicked to the ones which showed the omniclast accumulators. As far as he could tell, none of them had fired. With a few more gestures he switched the screens to show the derringer assault ships of the Delegation still floating out in space, unharmed and intact.
“Yes!” he shouted into the empty room. He let his head fall forward against the panels and whispered into the glass the two most appropriate words he could think of. “Thank you.”
Thirty-Eight
And So the World Ends
Matthew’s relief at avoiding the paroxysm distracted him to the point that he never heard the shuffling charge coming.
At the last moment, his attacker’s guttural cry alerted him, but he could not turn in time to avoid the two quick stabs into his lower back. Though his bioseine instantly squelched the raging hot flash of pain, his pulser fell clattering from his hands and he lost all strength in his legs. He slid down the instrument panel, crumpling to the floor.
Looking up, he saw a man with ragged silver hair drawn into matted tendrils and a shriveled, malevolent face. His robes were as tattered and shredded as the patchwork patterns of missing hair on his head. Two jagged knives made from pieces of scrap metal were strapped to his hands. Both of them dripped with blood. But it wasn’t the makeshift blades that seized Matthew’s heart with dread, it was the wild, primal intelligence in those bloodshot eyes. Matthew wondered if this might be some failed experiment of the Developers, some mishmash of humanity with something older, something much more brutish. Yet for all the man’s savagery and inhuman appearance, a cold, cunning light burned white hot out of the depths of his shadowy glare.
“Leave my ship alone,” the man said, saliva pooling at the edges of his grimy mouth. He kicked Matthew’s pulser into the base of one of the panels. The weapon ricocheted off the metal and landed near the bodies of the three dead Developers.
Matthew’s lower body refused to move, but he grabbed at his attacker’s legs in a feeble attempt to trip him.
The wild man kicked Matthew in the chin. Bursts of light danced over his eyes and several moments passed before the room stopped spinning. When Matthew recovered his senses, he spotted the stranger hovering over one of the undamaged instrument panels, well out of his reach. He sniffed them first and then pawed at them cautiously.
“What are you doing?” Matthew asked.
“Erasing the past,” the man mumbled. “Have to clean up old mistakes.” He gave the panel a long, distrustful look and then spit on it. When the surface lit up, he jumped back in shock. “Ah, I remember now. Pieces of the puzzle are still floating up there somewhere.” He tapped his forehead, entangling one of his blades in his free ranging hair. Rather than take the time to unravel the mess he yanked the strands out with a loud grunt.
“Who are you? Why did you attack me?” Matthew demanded. His legs twitched, signaling the return of some strength, though not enough to stand.
“I am…I am…a doctor. I am here to cure a terrible disease,” the man declared with a great sense of self-importance. “They are the disease.” He waved at the dead bodies around the room. “Them and everyone like them. So much deviation. Humanity is a taint, an infection which I fear has stricken me as well. Yes, even me. We’re all infected. It’s time to purge the sickness. There’s no turning back now.” His head bowed and the shadows on his bony face deepened ominously.
The man’s words confirmed what Matthew already suspected: he was insane. If he could not be reasoned with, Matthew had to keep him distracted long enough to figure out a way to stop him.
He started clawing his way towards the body of Orin. He had his eye on one thing: the commander’s utility pouch.
“What are you doing with that panel? Why did you turn it on?” he asked.
The madman paused to study the panels before him.
“Now, where are those targeting controls?” the man mumbled. He tried pressing on the various shapes and symbols, but his weapons got in the way, clanging and scraping on the glass. “Cursed claws! When will I be rid of you?”
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you planning on doing with that panel?” Matthew had arrived at Orin’s side and was just about to reach for the utility pouch on his belt when the wild-eyed man shot him a murderous scowl.
“Stop barking you useless squawker! Can’t you see I’m trying to think?” he shouted.
<
br /> Matthew paused in his search, but the man swung his head back towards the glowing panels, his eyes eagerly pouring over the various controls.
The panel Matthew had cracked with his pistol caught the madman’s eye. “You bruised my beastie, meddler. All your thrashing and smashing disabled the world breaker!” He jumped to his feet, frothing with white foamed vengeance.
Matthew froze where he was, afraid to say anything. He was certain the man meant to strike again and finish him off for good.
But his whirlwind expressions shifted again, as if another mood had hit him over the head. An air of pride swelled across his gaunt face.
“No matter. I am a doctor! I am a genius. I must have installed a back door somewhere. Clever men always see things from two sides.”
He moved to another panel and began flipping through several new sets of controls, waving his arms about in a frantic, but oddly purposeful fashion.
Matthew took advantage of the man’s preoccupation and grabbed Orin’s pouch and stick his hand inside.
“Ah, there it is,” squealed the madman, his eyes landing on a series of red dots on the panel. He ran his fingers across the dots, punching them wildly. Images flashed by on the screens above, shifting between every possible part of the ship, intermixed with views outside of it. In the end they settled upon the two Delegation interstellars. The sight made Matthew’s heart skip in his chest.
“Why are you looking at those ships?” Matthew asked. Was this deranged person even capable of operating the omniclast? Was he working with Kelm? Kelm had mentioned that there were others on his side, but Matthew doubted Kelm would have chosen someone like this as an ally.
“Ah, my old enemies,” the man cried out. He stood erect, clasping his ragged robe in a grotesque caricature of elegance. “He led them back to me, no doubt to destroy me. But no one takes my life from me. Only I say whether I live or die.” He glanced sideways at Matthew. Though his expression was vindictive and sinister, Matthew did not think it was directed at him this time. Hatred for the his enemies burned above all else in those eyes.
“Doctor—if you really are a doctor—aren’t you supposed to help people? Can’t you see there are people injured all around you?” Matthew kept talking, rifling through Orin’s med pack until he found the packet of solec. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and waited for them to take effect. If they were of typical potency, it would not be long.
“What?” the man screamed at the panel, pulling at what little hair he had left. “The level was set to fifty percent? That won’t do.”
He began pounding the panel with his fists over and over. At first Matthew thought it was out of frustration, but the status screens on the omniclast targeting range increased each time he did. Kelm had set the range to roughly fifty percent, enough to hit the Delegation ships, but not much beyond. By increasing the levels to full, the omniclast’s attack would pass right through the fleet and straight down onto the surface of the planet, triggering a paroxysm there as well.
“You can’t do that,” Matthew yelled at him. “You’ll kill everyone—you’ll destroy this ship, you’ll destroy the entire planet.”
The man flashed his reddened eyes at Matthew. They had never looked more lucid.
“That is the point.”
Whatever dark purpose drove his heart, the tone of his voice made it clear there would be no turning him aside from it. He was bent on the destruction not only of the Delegation and the Nebula, but of the planet Nai as well. This wasn’t Kelm. He was infinitely more dangerous. This ‘doctor’ meant to snuff out the lives of as many of his patients as possible. And if he died in the process, so be it. Or perhaps that was his main objective and the rest was simply an unfortunate, but necessary consequence.
Matthew had to find some way to stop him, but the solec wasn’t working fast enough. He could barely move his feet, much less stand on his own power.
The doctor’s hand shot out over the large white circle which reappeared on the instrument panel beneath the cracked glass.
“If only they had listened to me, it never would have come to this,” railed the doctor. “We were supposed to have a new beginning here, to start humanity over from scratch and remove all of the deviations, but he would not have it. The Everlord suffers no challengers to his throne.” His hand quivered over the circle excitedly.
“Please, don’t do this,” Matthew begged.
“I offered them life. I offered them peace, but they chose rebellion. But there is more than one force in this universe with the power to create and destroy,” he rattled on. “And now they will all pay for their crimes. Now death comes swiftly!”
His palm slammed down onto the white circle.
“Input ignored,” came a silvery smooth voice into the chamber. “Omniclast is already at full power. Awaiting command to fire.”
Matthew had to stop this man before he could issue the command. He pounded his legs, but all he managed to do was bend his knees a little.
“Work, you useless stumps,” he muttered.
“Ah, fully charged already? How fortuitous,” the doctor chirped gleefully.
“You can’t do this,” Matthew said. “Please, please, you can’t possibly have any reason for wanting to kill all of these people.”
“There must be peace, whatever the cost. I promised them peace, and it is peace which I shall give. My peace.” For the first time the edge in his voice faded. An almost human smile etched itself across his face.
“Doctor—whoever you are, you have to stop this,” Matthew pleaded. His legs trembled encouragingly, but they were still coming back to life, he did not yet have the strength to stand. No matter. He could wait no longer. He scraped along the floor in the direction of his cast off pulser, a few strides beyond the bodies of the three dead Developers. He had to risk the doctor seeing what he was trying to do. There was no time left for subtlety.
The doctor leaned forward, grinning contentedly and surveying the panel. “This is where it all began and this is where it will end. The one freedom a man has in life is to choose the time and manner of his own death. I will be free from pain and suffering. We will all be,” he cooed into the glowing instruments.
“Are you sure this world is all there is? Are you sure you’ll find peace on the other side of death?” Matthew clawed his way across the room trying to keep the man babbling. He was halfway to the Developers’ bodies now.
“You think you know the Everlord, do you?” The doctor snarled, but he kept his eyes fixed on the panels and had yet to turn towards Matthew. “Ah, but you do not know him like I do. You haven’t seen his other side. He refuses to allow his creatures one moment of unfettered freedom. He lays claim to everything. But if he has given me the power of death, why should it be a sin to use it? And if it is a sin, when no one is left to remember it, how can it be charged against me? If this is what it takes to blot out my transgressions, so be it.”
Matthew’s strength continued to trickle back. He worked himself up into a crawling position. All it would take was a word from the doctor and everything would be lost—the Delegation fleet, the Nebula, perhaps humanity itself.
The doctor turned and regarded Matthew as he reached the bodies of the three Developers, but then he looked past him to the charred remains of a forth corpse nearby. A look of mild surprise registered upon his face.
“Cyrith? Is that you?” Something approaching pity arose in his voice. “I see that you chose death as well. A wise decision. You could never hope to replace me.”
He doesn’t see the gun, Matthew realized.
The doctor turned back to the panel, losing himself again in silent rapture as he surveyed the fully charged accumulators.
Matthew had to destroy this man. He scrambled on his knees and elbows over the last few paces, grabbing the pulser at last. He slammed his thumb onto the firing trigger, aiming for the doctor’s head.
The gun failed to fire.
It was then that Matthew noticed that the power
chamber of the weapon had cracked. It must have happened when he was slamming it into the panels.
He had no time to panic. In the wake of his failure, he tried to stand and rush the doctor, but though he managed to totter onto his feet his legs locked up like stone.
He got two steps before an oblivious smile quivered onto the doctor’s lips. He let out a long, shuddering sigh.
“Fire the omniclast.”
The screens flipped to show the outside of the ship. An effulgent emerald blast erupted from the intensifiers on top and streaked across the screen. In moments, they reached the Delegation ships, consuming them in a verdant flash. From there they shot on through space, heading straight for the foggy green ball below—the planet of Nai.
Matthew could not watch. He struggled to his feet, sheer terror lending him the last bit of strength his legs needed to begin functioning once again.
A serene expression settled upon the madman’s face. “And so the world ends. This time for good.”
Then the doctor closed his eyes and waited for oblivion to come.
Thirty-Nine
The Paroxysm
The doctor’s head rested against the instrument panel. His eyes remained closed, caught up in whatever twisted bliss he was wandering in. The depraved man’s words echoed in Matthew’s mind.
“And so the world ends…”
And yet, in all of his desperation to stop the omniclast, he had forgotten his encounter with the eidos. Those words came back to him now.
There are people you must save, people whom you alone can save…
Yes, he had to find them. If only he knew who those people were.
But before that he had to get off this ship—if there was even time.
Ignoring the motionless madman, he scanned the screen showing the Delegation ships. They were all gone now, consumed in that terrible, agitated cloud of green brilliance. The intensity reminded him of the burning gaze of the eidos from the corridor. The glowing sphere bubbled and frothed as it grew. All matter it came into contact with would be annihilated in the insatiable paroxysm. It would not take long before that expanding destruction reached the Nebula and devoured it as well.
The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set Page 99