by Rachel Caine
Nadim said, “I don’t think so, at least not without inflicting catastrophic damage. It wouldn’t be precise enough to free our friends without harming their ship.”
I paced, watching the struggle unfolding below. “We can’t enter the atmosphere. The Hopper has no guns. Drones? Would the drones survive the burn?”
Bea clapped her hands, eyes bright. “I think so. We can’t trust this mission to the piloting AI, though. Ready to do a remote rescue, Zara?”
“I . . . what?”
“You get to the supply room. Get me these things . . .” She started listing off random stuff. I hastily grabbed my H2 and recorded the items; I knew I wouldn’t remember all of them, and we couldn’t waste time. Even if I didn’t know the plan, I was always ready to listen to Bea.
I raced off and got the parts, aware that time was ticking for Suncross and crew. The damn blobs might even eat the Bruqvisz and then take all their stuff. Not on my watch. I tapped my comm on the move. “Got the goods. Where to now, Bea?”
“Come to the holo room.”
“Okay, on the way.”
I arrived out of breath to find her tinkering with the panel, and suddenly it clicked. “You’re rigging a makeshift pilot program?”
“Yup. Hand me that emitter, please.”
Now that I knew, I could go all in helping her, and soon we had connections in place so that we could physically pilot the drones and fire the onboard weapons with complete precision. Hopefully we could avoid friendly fire too. If the mech ship got damaged, they wouldn’t be able to get back above the atmosphere. We’d have to abandon them and call for help to rescue them.
I attached the motion sensors that Bea had jury-rigged—there were a lot of them; she was very thorough—and she started the program. My movements activated the unit in the docking bay, and Nadim responded without even being asked, opening the hold so our drones could swoop out. Bea was also kitted up with motion sensors, and she was a natural at this given her pilot skills, so I copied her movements while I got comfortable. The room became a starfield, and it was like I was one with the machine, its movements shifting in response to my slightest action.
At first it was unnerving, the sense of motion rushing in my head while I knew damn well that I wasn’t flying anywhere, but urgency drove me on through the faint nausea, and I sped after Bea’s machine. I heard a sizzle and pop as we pushed through the atmosphere. I could only imagine how the outside of the machine must look, red-hot and glowing. But everything seemed to be holding together.
A digital readout scrolled before me, data from the drone, and I locked on to the energy signal of the blob ship, shining like a beacon on my scans. I raised my right arm to go weapons hot, and it was so wild; I felt a vibration in my bones, like an echo of the barrel emerging. On rare occasions when I was flush in the Zone, I’d played VR games, but they had nothing on this setup. Bea could have made a fortune in the entertainment biz.
During the time we’d taken in getting this going, the lizard ship had been drawn nearly down to the surface, still captive to the blobs’ grapples. The engines were able to keep resisting, but it clearly was a losing battle. Those damn gelatinous bastards had no intention of letting Suncross or his crew live. A flurry of projectiles blasted from the blob ship, but I couldn’t tell if they were weapons or meant to help cut into the mech ship. Either way, we couldn’t let them hit. I pulled my fingers back rapidly, firing off a laser burst, and I got three out of six. Ahead, Bea’s drone was shooting like mad, and she got the rest before they could touch Suncross’s ship.
“Target the lines, Bea!”
“On it.”
I zoomed left, and she broke right, loosing a volley of red fire on the tethers. They hissed and steamed, but the lines didn’t break on the first run. The blobs started shooting back, but our drones were small, fast, and light, hard to target. And if they managed to blow these up? Bea and I could connect to two more. We had crates of these things, and with smart as hell humans piloting them? These blobs were doomed; it was only a matter of time. Yeah, that was my cocky side talking. Stay alert.
It would be much damn easier to blow up the blob ship—our drones had the fire power—but the reaction would take out Suncross’s ship too at this proximity. We also had no idea how the composition of the atmosphere might impact the size of the explosion. It could be pure methane down there, and if so, it would be a doom inferno when the blob ship went up. So we had to be careful. Liberty first, destruction second.
“What other weapons do we have on board?” I muttered, cycling through the options. Laser didn’t do the trick, so— Oh, proximity charges. Slick.
I buzzed the tow lines and dropped a couple of charges, then sped away. When the blob ship tried to bring Suncross’s craft closer, the mines went up, and damn. Tiny mushroom clouds. The blowback sent me/my drone tumbling and I scrambled to right myself before I went sailing into the side of the lizard ship. Whew, made it. Still, the sensor buzzed on my skin, alerting me to how close I’d come to collision.
“Three to go,” Bea said, sounding elated.
She followed my lead and dropped a couple of mines, and we both scrambled, diving over the top of the blob ship. Its guns went straight up after us, firing a useless spurt of blue light into the air. If drones could laugh, mine would have been cackling as I twirled in the holo room and did a little victory dance. My unit spun in response, and I could hear Suncross shouting over my handheld, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. The motion of the weapon set off Beatriz’s charges too, and the next line snapped.
“Make that two.” No opportunity for dancing this time.
Suncross’s ship was pulling like hell, though, and with only a couple of lines left, the blob ship was struggling visibly. I couldn’t hear the roar of its engines because the drones weren’t equipped with audio. They were designed for use in space, where nobody could hear you scream. A burst of light flared, and then a third cable snapped, slinging wildly. I rolled to avoid the swing, and Bea jumped straight up—at least that was what it seemed like from the way her drone popped vertically.
Almost there.
My muscles were tense and aching from these unaccustomed controls, and Nadim touched my mind lightly, just enough to take some of the strain. I eased, focusing on the final tether. Once we got Suncross free, if they’d managed to reboot their systems, the lizard ship could scramble while Bea and I finished this. The Bruqvisz showed they were back in the game by firing a powerful burst at the blob ship just as I circled for another pass.
The resultant explosion took out the last line . . . along with Bea’s drone. Her machine went up in a ball of flames, and I narrowly dodged the falling shrapnel, diving below the worst of it. Suncross got his ship in the air after a few false starts and I dropped the rest of my proximity mines directly on top of the blob ship.
I didn’t even try to dodge. The drone had served well, but there was no point in trying to get it back up to the ship; I could see from the readouts it wouldn’t survive the return through the atmo. The last thing I saw in the uplink was the fiery mushroom cloud and the lizard ship zooming away. When I cut the connection, I stumbled, hands shaking a little as I removed the sensors. Bea was standing by to support me, and Nadim came in harder to keep me steady.
“Fire and separation both kill blobs, right?” she asked.
I damn sure hoped so.
Once I ascertained that Suncross and his boys were all good, we got underway again, but we couldn’t have a peaceful minute without multiple fires breaking out. “Zara.” Nadim’s worry swept over me, and his voice was sharp. “Sensors. I feel Phage nearby.”
“That might be the ones we saw on the asteroid—”
“No,” he cut me off. “Larger presence. The noise—it’s very loud. Very loud.”
“He’s right,” Bea said, a second before I saw the cloud on our sensors. It was like a storm, moving in with frightening speed. Tens of thousands of Phage cells. Hell, maybe hundreds of thousands;
there was no way to count them, and no point.
“Nadim, dark run! Suncross, get your ass in gear! Our vector is on your screen. Follow us!” I was so glad we’d left Typhon to wait when we went to save the Bruqvisz. He was off the Phage’s trajectory and didn’t have to play a terrifying game of hide and seek.
Nadim plunged forward, and I felt the shift around me, through me, as he entered the stealth mode that would protect us—hopefully—from the Phage’s detection. Suncross ran a bigger risk, but when I checked he was moving at top speed to keep up. I’d spotted a debris field, the remnants of an ancient planetary breakup, and it was a good place to hide. A few of the chunks were big enough that Nadim could hide beneath them; he couldn’t hold stealth mode forever, so a nice hiding place would be needed. Suncross’s ship would blend in if he landed on one of the drifting pieces of rock and shut down his power.
“Silent running,” I told Nadim, and felt a pulse of agreement. Any Leviathan song that escaped him would draw the Phage right to us, and hell if we could fight that many. We needed to just get out of the way. It looked like the Phage were headed somewhere, not just randomly hunting. If we stayed quiet and hidden, we’d survive this storm.
We only just made it to the debris field, and Nadim positioned himself under one of the largest arcing pieces, pressing so close to the rock that I got sensor warnings from the weapons; I shut it all down after making sure Suncross was set, and we went quiet. Waiting.
The Phage blotted out the stars. Nadim had left a wall transparent for me, and I stood there, rapt, watching as the plague of the Phage hurtled by us like a swarm of angry hornets, all chitin and claws, stingers and jaws. Horrifying. I felt Nadim’s unease and dropped into the bond to hold him steady. Told him without words that we would survive this; the Phage were not hunting us, that if we stayed still and quiet, we would be all right.
Xyll’s transmission made me jump when it said, “I would have warned you of this. I have information. You want?”
Nadim was angry. I will lock that creature away, he said, and a tide of sharp red colored his walls in a flush. Or dispense with it altogether.
Calm, I told him. We’re okay. Out loud, I said, “Fine. What’s your report?”
“This group was far when Lifekiller made his presence known. It was drawn to him, but it has not yet reached him. The swarm will lead you to his location if you follow.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I was trying my best to be fair and open-minded about the Phage cell, but with Nadim growling silently in my head, it was hard for me to listen to Xyll. “I’ll check in with you later, okay? You’re probably tired of being cooped up, but try to be patient. It will take time for us to get used to each other.”
If it was even possible at all.
“Understood,” said Xyll.
We had to do better. Phage cells weren’t used to being alone, and shit could go bad with a quickness, but I could only track so many problems at once.
We’d been following the swarm for close to two days, running through the universe at a speed that made even the stars shift positions; the Phage were capable of huge bursts of energy when they needed it, though it broke individual cells, who were left discarded and dead in its wake. I wondered if there were new Phage being birthed in the middle of that swarm. Probably. Xyll had said it was born in the black.
“The cousins are changing course to meet us!” Nadim was so happy that the floor beneath my feet flashed pink, then purple in rapid succession. And his emotion drenched me in joy too.
Too bad I couldn’t fully believe in it. These cousins had come out of nowhere to aid us in our time of need. Things that seemed too good to be true? Usually were. So there I sat, silently waiting for the situation to break bad.
ANCIENT FELLKIN RECORDS FROM THE BROKEN WORLD, INCOMPLETE RECORDING
Nothing prepares for this. The swarm darkens skies above. The god-king comes in rage and fury for this world we have so carefully preserved in his name, and we will surrender it in all reverence to him. The richness contained within will sustain him for the Change, and we will look in awe on his new form as we cease.
The swarm descends, and we die, eaten and torn. Soon, this pale planet will crack, and Lifekiller will have what he desires more than our worship.
We die knowing
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lost in Space
STARCURRENT FINALLY CAME out of the media room, where ze had been camped for days, just in time to catch the light show. “Something good is happening?”
“The jury is out. We’ve got cousins inbound.” To my knowledge ze hadn’t eaten in all that time, so I tried to steer zim toward the kitchenette.
“Cousins?” ze repeated. “You have family coming to us?”
“Nadim’s cousins. Leviathan survivors.”
“The singers in the deep remain!” Starcurrent brightened, a golden hue flushing zis extremities that I took for pleasure or happiness.
“I don’t know if it’s rude to ask, but could you provide me a color wheel? It would help me read your moods.”
Silence, as ze processed my request. “Is not rude. Just . . . unusual. Humans cannot smell moods or lies or tell much with their senses.”
“Yeah, we’re special like that,” I mumbled.
No resistance as I put my hand on a tentacle. I’m touching him without a glove. Once, a long time ago, I got to pet a dolphin at an aquarium, and Starcurrent’s skin felt a little like that, only smoother and thicker. It hadn’t been so long ago, chronologically speaking, where zis species scared me so much that I shot one in the face instinctively. Now I was letting Starcurrent curl a couple of tendrils around my arm as we headed to get some food.
I got zim to slurp down some broth to make up for days of no nutrition, though Starcurrent assured me, “Can go weeks between meals. Have protein pouches here . . . and here.” Ze patted left and right with a tentacle on each side. “Humans lack such backup systems. No redundant organs either?”
I didn’t want to argue about how poorly humans were designed, especially when I didn’t have any protein pouches to digest in case of famine. Breasts were fat pouches, so maybe—damn it, no. I’m not talking about my boobs with a tentacle alien. Still, it was good that ze could talk about something besides being exiled.
“I don’t know what the spleen does exactly, not sure if it’s redundant. And the appendix is kind of pointless. I think it used to filter rough fiber when we lived in caves.” I became aware I was rambling. Mostly to avoid talking about boobs.
“Zara, you lived in a cave?”
“This isn’t important. Anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Cannot live in despair. My people sing . . . and rise. Will do the same. We will vanquish Lifekiller and I will be forgiven.”
“Hell yeah.” I patted one of the tentacles. “Now you’re talking. You’ll get a hero’s welcome and a damn medal before we’re through.”
Okay, considering I was a wanted felon on my home planet, about to be upgraded to “dangerous fugitive” status, I might be promising too much, but it never hurt to look on the bright side. Besides, I liked Starcurrent better when ze was upbeat.
“Dreams,” said Starcurrent. The translation matrix made zim sound wistful.
“So about that color wheel . . .”
We spent a good twenty minutes with zim breaking down the visible colors for me, explaining nuances, but the Abyin Dommas had striations that didn’t translate; their colors outnumbered the emotions I could identify, so I’d probably never grasp when Starcurrent was hungry-tired-sad, based on how dark a blue ze was or whatever. Plus, some of it signaled in ultraviolet and infrared, well beyond my ability to even perceive.
“Will listen to music more and wait to meet the cousins,” Starcurrent said, then hesitated. “Unless you need me?”
“No, not right now. Go on. Have fun.”
I headed to Ops to check in with Bea and to see if we could spot the incoming Leviathan yet. We were sti
ll moving, but we had dropped speed to let them catch up. Bea was standing by the console and she flashed a bright smile, tossing her curls when she saw me come in. I admired her for a minute before focusing on my original question.
“Nadim, are they getting close?”
“I believe they are—”
I sensed it a second before it happened: a flash of alarm and surprise. Nadim suddenly rolled. It was a fluid, muscular motion, and as Bea and I grabbed for handholds, he said, “We are under attack!”
Shit. I hate when I’m right.
I registered that he’d received an energy weapon blow to his armor; I could feel the impact like it had hit me personally. Felt like it had gotten almost through his plating too. Dammit. I clung to the console and opened our bond; I felt Bea dropping in at the same time. We had a special glow together now, something true and instinctive.
We became one. We rolled, flipped, came around speeding for the cousin who was hitting us, and targeted the Leviathan just emerging out of a dark run—a huge behemoth, scarred and just as big as Typhon. At that size, it was hard to judge. We felt unease, and then anger as we recognized the bristling array of energy weapons located on the arrival’s armor.
The new Leviathan was loaded with Earth-manufactured weapons. We processed that information faster than even a computer, coming up with a set of logical deductions: this Leviathan was allied with Earth, even now. It had received significant weapons upgrades.
We went dark, and in that mode all our senses focused differently. We could sense motion ahead, but that must mean the bigger ship could also pinpoint our own location; this was a dangerous move, and we all knew it.
Typhon was near, catching up from a fuel detour, and we sang to him quietly. Answering song reached us, the promise of protection that the Elder had made becoming reality. He burst onto the scene to surprise our attackers in a barrage of rail shots. Grief spiraled through us. We are using weapons on our cousins. They may be the last.
Fight to win, Typhon sang.