by AJ Super
Near the curry pot, now overturned, a soldier threw a woman to the ground, then picked her up by her hair, dragging her to the center of the avenue.
This was Nyx’s fault. If she hadn’t come here, the queen wouldn’t have sent soldiers. She bit her cheek and scanned the ground around her.
Nyx grinned. She may have the upper hand with her powers. But it may also be hard to convince the Queensmen to take her to the queen.
A nicely turned spindle no longer than her forearm but just as thick, probably meant for a corner on a beautiful hand-carved piece of furniture, rested on the ground at her feet. If she could help it, she wouldn’t infect anyone. That way she wouldn’t have to execute anyone. She couldn’t let Queen Phoebe have access to her powers in any way. Not to test, and not to try to replicate. Nyx didn’t want her to have immortal soldiers. Or worse, an immortal government that would oppress the universe using their long lives as leverage.
Nyx stuffed the chip knife in her holster with her gun. It settled into the shadows of the black fabric, wedged. She grabbed the spindle. She needed to get their attention, not kill everyone in sight. Going in guns blazing would just get her and any Underground stragglers shot. But she needed to get through their outer lines and get close enough to a commanding officer to have a talk.
She walked down the center of the tunnel. A helmeted soldier emerged from a lean-to holding a boy like a bag of rice under their arm. Nyx walked off of the wide, center path towards the armored Queensman and lifted the spindle high above her head. She brought it down on the soldier’s shoulders at the base of their neck. They grunted, fell to their knees, and dropped the boy, who hit the ground on all fours. Scrambling up, the boy turned and looked at Nyx, then ran in the direction that Crius and the rest of the people had escaped. Nyx hit the white-armored Queensman across their back, splintering the spindle, and flattening the soldier motionless to the ground.
She picked up a piece of wood, burning on one end, from an overturned barrel and wove through the shadows of the burning tents and lean-tos. She stalked closer to the copper-bearded man in the white and gold uniform clearly in command of the raid. This was a really bad plan. The growling man was red in the face and yelling orders to all the armored Queensmen. He didn’t look like the type who would listen.
A terrible idea came to her. She fingered the chip knife wedged in the holster. If she could take him hostage, if he would listen to her, she wouldn’t have to show them who she was. He was the only person with exposed flesh, the only person she could infect and control. She wouldn’t have to use her powers to take his life into her hands.
A soldier crashed through a canvas tent, rifle raised. “Hands up,” said a male voice, muffled by a helmet.
Nyx turned to face the soldier. She swung her torch lightly. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll shoot,” he threatened.
Nyx sauntered closer to the soldier. She scrunched her face. “I don’t think you will. I think you have orders to clear out, round up, and arrest. But not to kill. In fact, under no circumstances, kill. If you shoot me, it’ll be a non-lethal shot. I’m willing to risk it,” Nyx taunted.
The soldier shook his gun, “Stay back.”
Nyx wandered closer.
“I said—”
Nyx sprang, swinging the torch, smashing it into the rifle, sparks flying. The soldier fired off a shot. The sound rang in Nyx’s ears. A searing pain hit her shoulder, then deadened. She swung the cindery torch again, splitting it into burning halves over the soldier’s helmet. He dropped, a stone in a pond.
Nyx stood panting over the pile of white-armored limbs and torso, blood seeping from the energy-weapon wound in her shoulder. Her white tendrils massed near the wound. The bones, though smashed from the discharge of the weapon, were knitting together, and the oozing burn and places where the bone had pierced her skin were quickly healing. She backed away from the crumpled soldier.
Two down. Plenty more to go.
She needed them to take her to the queen, but she needed them to do it on her terms. The only way to do that was going to be to make them afraid of her, so they would follow her orders.
She walked back to the tunnel’s thoroughfare. The copper-bearded man was the one in charge, and she needed to convince him.
“Hey.” She waved at the white and gold uniformed man spewing orders. “Over here.”
His red head snapped up, and he whirled around to her, capelet spinning out. “Grab her!”
An armored soldier snatched her from behind. Nyx calmly lowered her center of gravity and stepped behind one of the soldier’s feet. She twisted her torso towards the soldier with a snap, elbowing them in the gut, and the soldier’s balance teetered. The soldier released Nyx, arms wheeling, and fell back. Nyx turned and kicked into the side of the soldier’s helmet, sending it spinning off the soldier’s head toward the copper-bearded Queensman.
“Don’t. Please,” Nyx begged their leader, as she stepped away from the bare-headed soldier. She wasn’t going to infect the fallen man. “I’m sure you’ve got no-harm, no-kill orders.”
The copper-bearded man strode towards her, holding up a hand to the half-dozen armored soldiers preparing to lunge for her. “You’re just another one of these trucs de merde,” he said, spittle catching in his beard.
Nyx shook her head. “The queen wants me. And you’ll take me to her.”
The man scoffed. “You will be taken and processed just like the rest of this trash.” He nodded at the dozen people cuffed on the ground behind him. “If the queen wants you, she’ll send someone to come get you. But I wouldn’t hold your breath.” He nodded to two of the closest soldiers.
They advanced.
Nyx grabbed the chip carving knife and lunged forward. Grabbing the Queensman, she pressed the sharp edge against his throat. The armored soldiers surrounded them and raised their weapons. She pressed the chip knife tighter to the Queensman’s throat. “Tell them to lower their weapons.”
The Queensman sealed his lips tight.
She jostled him. “Tell them to let the others go. I’m the only one you want. You’re going to take me to the queen.”
“You’re severely mistaken,” the bearded Queensman grumbled.
“Do you know who I am? I’ll kill you.” She dug the chip knife into his skin.
“Kill them all!” the Queensman ordered. The soldiers turned and aimed at the Undergrounders cuffed in the middle of the tunnel.
“No,” Nyx hissed. She spun the copper-bearded man around. “You can’t.”
The electric pops of energy rifles echoed through the massive plasticrete thoroughfare.
Nyx’s knees wobbled as she held onto the edges of the Queensman’s white and gold capelet. She’d killed them. Crius’ family. There’s no way Crius would never forgive her. Fire blazed in her eyes, and she slapped a palm in the drying blood on her healed shoulder. She looked into the Queensman’s globby green eyes and rubbed her bloody hand across his face, leaving a smeared splotch of crimson.
He sputtered and backed away, wiping the blood with his white-gloved hand.
“Do you know who I am?” Nyx said with grit teeth, and when he didn’t answer, she shouted, “Do you know who I am?”
He shimmered like lapis waves in a deep pond. She entwined her white tendrils with the deep watery aura. She tightened them. His energy was soothing, not the hell-fire of Kai or the blue frothing eddies of Malcam.
The Queensman gasped and reached out as he stumbled. Six armored soldiers turned and surrounded Nyx. “I wouldn’t come any closer.” She pulled the waves toward her, washing herself in their light with an upward clench of her bloody hand for emphasis. “I’ll kill him.”
He put his hands to his throat, choking.
The armored soldiers paused, looked at the struggling man, and turned to Nyx. They raised their guns. One spoke, muffled by the helmet, “What are you doing?”
Nyx pulled the energy harder, gathering it towards her, ripping it from the man. Ther
e had to be a faster way to do this. The man’s cheeks sunk. His skin wrinkled. His hair lightened. He aged, like Malcam had the first time she had done this. Soon his organs would start to shut down. She wouldn’t leave any of herself behind this time. She’d kill him no matter what. She wouldn’t leave another immortal behind. Especially not one in the queen’s service.
“I’m showing you who I am.” Nyx tipped her head. “He won’t listen. Maybe you will.”
“Who are you?” the muffled voice resounded through the helmet richly.
She pulled the final lapis wave from the copper-bearded Queensman. He shuddered and collapsed, dead. “I’m the Star of Nyx. And you’ll take me to the queen.”
The armored soldiers stepped back, muttering. The soldier addressing her lowered her weapon and pulled off her helmet, mousy brown hair flying into a scarred eye. “Béni sont Les Étoiles. Ce sont des dieux parmi les hommes.”
The corners of Nyx’s lips pulled slightly, “Blessed are the Stars. They are gods among men. You’re religious?”
“I wasn’t before this,” the armored woman whispered. “Never saw a god kill a man with a touch.” She nodded to one of the soldiers behind Nyx, and suddenly her arms were being yanked behind her and magnetic cuffs clanged onto her wrists.
“N-no!” Nyx stammered. “What is going on?”
The scarred soldier walked up to Nyx and leaned in to face her.
Nyx pulled at the hands holding her back. “I’m the Star of Nyx! Take me to the queen!”
“Whoever or whatever you are, you’re not going near la reine. There are plenty of other Queen’s Officers for you to meet first,” the soldier-woman growled. She nodded to the soldier restraining Nyx. “Take her to the transport.”
“You’ll regret not taking me to Phoebe,” Nyx muttered.
“I’d regret it more if you hurt la reine. There are others who will make that call. Not me.” The scarred woman shrugged.
At the top of the stairs, Nyx glanced out the door and to the dark transport waiting for her. A scrolling green pulse dotted with gold dust wound its way through the tech on the black vehicle. The soldier escorting Nyx pushed her forward, arms behind her back, making her stumble, breaking her concentration. Nyx looked up. The sky was beginning to darken to a deep aubergine gilded with copper-lined clouds. The air smelled clean and wet. The late-afternoon rains washed away the scent of trash in whatever alley the soldier had dragged her into.
She ducked her head, away from the brilliant white of the headlights. The pulse of scrolling green and gold throbbed as she stepped into the transport. She sank into the oscillations. There was something familiar about the color of green, a deep emerald. Like the peace lily in her white code room. Like Erebus’ code.
Then she remembered—Erebus had infected Elysion. Nyx didn’t know to what extent, but she was obviously in the Queensmen’s transport tech. Erebus had expanded before she was captured and was given a virus by the queen.
She narrowed her eyes. The gold specks on the emerald whorls must be the virus. It had no place in the pattern of the pulsing emerald light.
The armor-clad soldier slammed the door behind her.
The yellow light above her glowed dim. The bars on the other side of the door slid into place. Her plan had failed, and since the soldiers were all covered in armor, she couldn’t infect and control them. Now, she didn’t know where these soldiers were going to take her or what they would do with her.
Nyx pounded on the door and yelled, “Take me to putain de reine! Take me to my sister!” She kicked against the black metal, clanging, until her toes ached.
Then she flopped on the bench. She should have known better than to trust the soldiers. Now she had killed someone for no reason. Her shoulder had healed, and the crimson blood on her jumpsuit was dried around the hole in the material at the shoulder.
She glanced at the hole in the suit at her gut and then the hole in her thigh and opposite shoulder. At this rate, she’d be wearing nothing but rags covered in red Elysion dust. She laid back on the bench and slipped her hips through her shackled arms, bringing them to the front. She rested her manacled hands on her stomach, one knee up. She didn’t know how she was supposed to get out of this, how she was supposed to save Erebus, save the Thanatos, save her crew.
The transport lurched, jostling Nyx.
She closed her eyes, eyelashes fluttering softly. She could still see the pulsing green scrolls of code in her mind’s eye. She took a deep breath and followed a thread, sinking deep, wriggling her white tendrils around the emerald scroll of code, braiding it together. She stretched her legs out and relaxed. The code brightened and coalesced.
She opened her eyes.
The white room glowed around the edges. She lay on the white divan, the white table with the emerald green peace lily and pristine white flowers stood next to her. A circle of gold bees buzzed around the potted lily. She waved at the buzzing bugs. They scattered, then continued their circuit around the plant.
Nyx swung her feet off the divan. “Erebus? Are you here?”
The buzzing of the bees grew louder.
Nyx stared at the gold ring of bugs. “What are you doing in my space?” It looked so much like the gold dust spotting the emerald pulse around the transport. She creased her forehead, swatted one out of the ring, and grabbed it off the table. As she grabbed the sparkling bee, it duplicated, and another flew up to the circle replacing the bee she had just slapped out of the ring.
Shaped like a bee, it was solid gold. “There’s something wrong with you. You’re not a real bee.” She crushed it, and a dusting of gold powder coated her palm. “What are you?”
“Virus.” Erebus appeared. She wore a crimson cowl-necked tunic and wide-draped pants, complimenting her brown skin and fawn-colored eyes, gold rings glowing.
Nyx jumped up. “Why is it here, then?”
Erebus pointed to her head. “Because it’s here.” She paused, straining. “I eradicate. It duplicates. I’m not fast enough. It predicts where I’m going to go.”
Nyx looked at the bees. If Erebus wasn’t fast enough to eradicate the bug in her system, there wasn’t much she could do to help. “You need to find the source code.”
Erebus nodded.
Nyx stared at the gold bees. It couldn’t be. An algorithm that predicted Erebus’ movements to counter any part that’s been erased meant only one thing. “It’s the queen. The source code is the queen. She derived the virus from her own algorithm. It predicts where you’re going and moves. It’s duplicating before, not after, you attack it.” Nyx felt it in her bones, watching the golden bees.
She walked over to the bugs. They wouldn’t be able to get rid of the virus, not without getting rid of the queen.
She swept through the circle with her palms, gathering all the bees together and crushed them. Her hands full of gold powder, she blew, scattering the dust across the white room in a plume.
Then she touched a leaf on the peace lily. This was the bit of Erebus that was left inside of her when she had her EVA accident, and Erebus had reprogrammed the nano-medics. Whether Erebus had meant to leave a bit of her code with Nyx, or whether it was an accident, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.
In her mind, Nyx saw the lily turn to a deep mauve. This was her space. Matthews said she had power over it. She should be able to make it how she wanted it. The peace lily shimmered purple. She rewrote the code.
“I’m kicking you out.” Nyx turned to Erebus as the bit of her sister-Star left in her space became nothing more than a pretty decoration. “You can’t be inside me if you’re infected. Phoebe will use that virus against me, too. And you, you can be used against me, or you can do bad things to me. I can’t have you expand your consciousness to me.”
Erebus flickered as the code adjusted. “I understand.” She bowed her head, eyes sad. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“You say that now. But I know why I was created. And that’s a threat to you.”
/> “No. Not ever. We’re family,” Erebus said, fading.
Nyx nodded. “Family. I’ll find you. I’ll find a way. I promise.”
An armored hand slapped her across the face. “Wake up. We’re here.”
Nyx bolted upright. The transport had stopped. A white-armored soldier bent over in the back of the transport next to her. He tugged her shackles to get her to jump from the vehicle.
Nyx shook her head clear. Waking from the white room abruptly disoriented her. “Where are we going?”
He pulled on her cuffs, escorting her to a shuttle.
“You are going to the Battle Station Kokou,” the soldier mumbled.
Nyx looked at the armored Queensman, confused. “I thought…”
“It was destroyed? The Five Seven Eight was. Yes. This is the Kokou Five Seven Nine. The Kokou II. Newly crewed and new in the fleet. It has a rendezvous with La Terre.”
Nyx stutter-stepped towards the shuttle, repressing a smile. Maybe she’d get to see the queen, after all.
34
The ebony room morphed to shining white as Nyx stumbled in. It was barely two meters squared with benches built out from the walls and a silver drain with a shower overhead in the back-center just beyond a set of partitions.
A soldier in white armor pushed Nyx into the room. “Hands,” she ordered, muffled. The soldier used a magnetic key to unlock Nyx’s wrists. Then she backed out of the door, leaving Nyx behind.
Nyx spun and slapped the door pad. It glowed red. “Fine,” she grumbled and slid her boots off. She could take a hint. They had put her in a shower cube so she could clean up. She peeled off her torn up black jumpsuit and slipped out of her white tank and pink polka-dot underwear. She shivered in the tepid air as she piled her ruined clothing on the bench near the door.
She sidled into the partitioned shower room and under the showerhead. Warm water spewed down to the floor, filling the room with hot steam reeking of disinfectant.
Nyx frowned. Did they know they were inhibiting her abilities by destroying her blood cells with disinfectant? Or was it just standard procedure for prisoner intake to clean them up thoroughly? So far, they had seemed to be protecting themselves by escorting her in full armor. But she had never been arrested by the Queen’s Navy. She didn’t know what exactly to expect from the Queensmen, though she was sure she’d become a lab rat sooner or later if this kept up.