Nyxia Unleashed_The Nyxia Triad

by Scott Reintgen

  Anger pulses through me at the sight of the Babel insignia. I reach back and pull Noor to her defensive station. “I need you to take over for a second.”

  She nods as I stumble forward. The rocking of the boat threatens to send me into the railing, but I steady myself and keep moving. I take a deep breath and focus. I have to get the manipulation right. The nyxia shivers with movement. I heft up one of Jazzy’s long poles, the same ones we used in the Rabbit Room. It feels good, like an old friend.

  “Hold!” Morning shouts. “Hold!”

  On shore, the laser tower misses the approaching Imago boat. We might be outnumbered, but the tide is clearly turning, the Imago clearly outmaneuvering Babel. We need the tide to turn faster, though, if we want to survive. Another round of bullets lights us up, and cracks form in our frontal shield. Bullets swipe over heads and shoulders; a few tag the front of the ship.

  Morning’s about to submarine us beneath the Babel ship when I start running. The ship nose-dives, but not before I plant my pole just left of Parvin’s front station. A scream echoes behind me as the shaft flexes and I launch myself over our front shields and into the air.

  I descend on Babel like a demigod, cloaked in fury. Adrenaline shields me from the impact of the landing. I manipulate the nyxia as I roll, coming up on one knee and casting it out in a protective sphere. Every gun on board turns and fires.

  A thought adjusts the manipulation just before the flash and bang. Bullets fracture the air, lodge in the black shield I’ve summoned. I flinch as they come, but the nyxia works flawlessly.

  Dozens of bullets hover around me, silver-tipped, floating in the air. There’s a pulse as the shield threatens to give way, but I shove a second burst of power into it and somehow everything holds. The crew stares with wide eyes. All of them scramble to reload.

  But it’s too late for that.

  I drop one knee and shove the shield out with as much force as I can give it. Bullets hiss back through the air, hammer-struck. I watch shards of wood snap as they hit. Blood spatters. One of the soldiers throws up his own nyxian shield, but the rest of the crew slumps or falls. Screams split the silence and I rise.

  Over the nearest railing, a massive splash shows the Genesis ship breaching the surface about fifty kilometers away. Morning’s face is the first one I see as their nyxian walls retract. Her eyes go wide when she sees I’m the only one still standing.

  But the soldiers aren’t dead. I hear groans. The marine with the best instincts is still crouched behind his shield. Some of the bullets didn’t strike home. Others didn’t have the velocity to do more than ding or skim or concuss. I scramble over stretching legs and past reaching hands. The captain slumps in his chair, blood spilling out of a gut shot.

  His eyes go wide as I reach him. I ignore his weak, struggling hands and unclip the grenade on his utility belt. “For Kaya,” I whisper. “For Bilal and Loche and Brett.”

  The pin springs, the grenade thuds onto the deck, and I dive over the railing.

  I count eight strokes before fire rips into the air. Wooden shards come slashing overhead. Morning’s crew swings past, and I wave my arms to get their attention. Jacquelyn keeps her station in its shield form, but manipulates a second piece of nyxia into netting. As soon as I grab hold of it, she starts reeling me in. I scramble on board, soaked to the bone, feeling like an angel of death. There’s no time to process what I just did. No time to count the bodies.

  We veer right of their smoking carcass of a ship as a new fight forms on the other side. A distant explosion follows mine. On shore, the tower ignites.

  Our crew throws out a cheer as the structure leans left, then collapses into the waiting flames. The Imago soldiers scramble around the base of the tower but are cut off from their ship now. My eyes dart left. The other Imago are boarding one of the Babel ships as their own boat goes up in flames. I realize we’re winning. Babel’s losing.

  “Morning!” Longwei’s voice thunders through the comm. “Omar’s hurt!”

  All eyes whip back. He’s slumping in his seat, still shoving whatever energy he has left into the ship’s engines. But there are three rips in his suit, and red gushes from each of them.

  Parvin screams. Morning lunges out of her seat too.

  “Emmett,” she snaps. “Captain’s seat.”

  I watch both of them hurdle past, sliding to their knees to catch Omar as he falls. Without them, the entire boat starts to power down. Instinct kicks in again.

  “Jazzy on the eyes!” I shout. “Longwei full power.”

  Jazzy takes a single breath—always so composed—and steps into action. I take my position in the captain’s seat, trying to draw from her calm. Longwei has the engines rolling in seconds. Jazzy reports back, like we’re tackling another task on the Waterway.

  I can still hear Omar gasping for air. Morning and Parvin are pleading with him. Don’t die. Please don’t die. I force my mind back to the water, to the fight still unfolding all around us.

  “Can we help these final ships?” I ask. “Let’s convert front stations to pulse cannons.”

  But before the command fully registers, Jazzy is shouting.

  “Returning from the west! Two ships.”

  “Us or Babel?” I ask.

  Our eyes scan the distance. Jacquelyn’s the first to sight it.

  “Babel,” she says. “Emmett, we need to leave. It’s our job to get to the rendezvous point. Babel’s going to keep coming. Our other ships know their directives. Time to go.”

  I squint into the distance. We have a minute at the most. Another glance shows that the Imago military boats aren’t leaving. They’re circling, snapping at the heels of enemy ships. On shore, the stranded Imago have started launching their own attacks at a fleeing Babel vessel. I want to stay and fight and carry our weight.

  “Emmett!” Jacquelyn shouts. “Our plan is to get into space. Get moving.”

  I nod to myself, to the others. “Convert everything to engines. Jazzy, ping the rendezvous point. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  All the strength passing through the nyxian links gets thrown back to Longwei. Together we have the boat thundering through the smoke and chaos, forging a path north. The Imago on shore throw salutes and start making their own way through the forest, moving to their assigned checkpoints on foot.

  We leave the noise and death behind. Babel’s incoming boats split. One pursues us, but Jacquelyn was right. We’re way faster than they are. A head start has us leaving them behind.

  “Jacquelyn,” I ask through the link. “Once we land on shore, how far do we have to go?”

  “There’s a converted repository seven kilometers north,” she replies. “We have to get there and seal the door behind us. Underground tunnels link it with a cove to the west. From there, we’ll have transports waiting to take us upriver. Then to the launch station.”

  It’s quiet as our boat skips over the water. We’re moving far faster than we ever did in the Waterway. I can hear shuffling behind me. “Omar?” I ask quietly.

  “Didn’t make it,” Longwei whispers back.

  I bow my head and close my eyes. I’m back in that bright room, watching Kaya’s oxygen run out. I’m standing in front of Roathy as he rages against my air lock. How much more do we have to lose for all of this to finally come to an end?

  We keep picking up speed. The engines roar louder and louder, but I can still hear the sound of Parvin and Morning crying: Morning for her brother-in-arms, Parvin for the man who finally found the courage to say how he felt. No one says anything; no one can.

  Babel’s death count keeps growing.

  Our ship knifes through the endless blue.

  Chapter 44

  The Other Genesis

  Emmett Atwater

  “How far back are Babel’s boats, Jazzy?”

  “They’ll land in five minutes,” she says. “We have to keep moving.”

  Everyone unloads. Sloshing through knee-deep water and onto a pebble-laced shore.
Forest hovers, dark and strangling. Behind us, a single white streak makes a line for our location. Babel is coming. Longwei helps Morning carry Omar to shore. We set him down and get our bearings.

  I’m wondering how we’re possibly going to carry him seven kilometers when Jacquelyn offers to help. “I’ll make a carrier for him.”

  She manipulates her nyxia into a black sphere. It’s the same kind we’ve seen the Imago use whenever they’ve traveled overland. I stand at Morning’s side as she and Longwei lift Omar into the unfolding sphere. Once his body is safely inside, the black petals fold back together like a wilting flower. Parvin’s still crying as the darkness closes around him.

  Noor puts an arm around her and starts walking her away. Jacquelyn directs the carrier overland as Morning snaps back into motion. I can see her shoving the grief as far down as possible. I can see it threatening to rise up and choke her.

  “I’m back on command,” she says. “Let’s move.”

  The group follows her through the forest. Jazzy’s voice echoes through our ranks.

  “That group was five minutes behind,” she says. “We need to jog.”

  Jacquelyn agrees. “I’d like to get into the tunnel before they sight us. It’d be nice to slip through a few doors and leave them wondering which way we ended up going.”

  There aren’t really trails through these forests, but Morning guides us down the paths of least resistance. She jogs at the front, pushing us to move faster. Jacquelyn keeps our pace, mentally guiding Omar’s coffin as she runs. Forest sounds rush in from all sides.

  “Keep an eye out,” Jacquelyn warns. “This isn’t Grimgarden. There are some dangerous animals that call this place home.”

  We catch a few glimpses to go with the strange noises. A dark spread of wings. Broad shoulders slouching into a creek. Morning tightens our formation and asks for an update.

  “Four more kilometers,” Jazzy answers.

  It’s a blessing when the forest breaks. Fields wind their way to an empty valley. Jacquelyn has us veer left, taking the easiest slopes down. At the far end of the plain, a huge cement structure is wedged into the hillside.

  “That’s the repository,” Jacquelyn says, breathing heavily.

  “Let’s keep going,” Morning pushes.

  We cross the fields together. There’s no sunlight overhead, just a gathering of thick clouds, pressed together to keep anything golden out of the world. Wind has the field of knee-high grass swaying darkly, and we’re halfway across it when Morning signals for a stop.

  Everyone goes down to one knee. In the distant gray, our eyes trace little shifts of movement. We all watch and wait as figures cross the scene. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but they must be a Babel crew. They don’t move or look like the Imago.

  “Is that the crew that was chasing us?” Morning hisses through the comm.

  “Has to be,” Jazzy whispers. “If they set an ambush in the water, why have a crew randomly roaming around on land? They must have landed north of us.”

  We watch the group slink past the repository building. There’s a long conversation in front of it before they move on. We wait and watch as they vanish into a northern forest that flanks the building. “And we’re just going inside?” Morning asks.

  “There’s a code,” Jacquelyn replies. “It will take me a minute, maybe two.”

  “Then we need to give her a minute, maybe two,” Morning says to the rest of us. “Shoulder to shoulder. Stay alive. Let’s use those weapons Babel gave us. If that crew turns back and looks for a fight, don’t give them a second. Fathom?”

  Nyxian manipulations fill the air with vibration. It takes me a few seconds to get my boxing claws fitted right. I’m feeling sluggish from the run, but my hands are eager. I’m starting to tap into the anger Jaime’s shown all along. I wouldn’t mind punishing a few Babel marines.

  The others look ready too. Silent Holly has her boxing gloves raised. Longwei has his sword, Katsu his ax. Morning’s hatchets look like they’re already covered in blood. Outfitted for war, we keep low and press on to the edge of the field. Morning pauses us again.

  “Keep tight to the trees,” she says. “Emmett and Longwei, you see the trail off to the right over there? Take that, but be quiet about it. If they’re waiting to ambush us, our approach will draw them back to the repository doors and you two can come in from behind. If no one bites, just circle back and meet us at the gate. Be safe.”

  She shoots me a look that’s pure fire. Be safe. Do not die. I love you. I nod as much of that back as I can and she leads the others forward. Longwei and I trickle off to the side, crossing the distance in a crouching run. He follows me to the edge of the forest, and we put our backs smack against trees.

  Glancing around, we watch Morning and the others cross the opening. They reach the first gate, shields up and out, and the whole forest is silent.

  “Emmett,” Longwei whispers. “Now is a good time.”

  I shoot him a look. “What?”

  “Babel,” he says simply. “I need to go now. I will pretend to betray you all.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I whisper. “But—the Imago’s plan—what if it all works perfectly? What if we launch up to space and you get left behind?”

  He shakes his head. “Babel will have vessels that can launch into space too.”

  I’m feeling that nervous dread in my stomach. I’m afraid that if I say goodbye to him now, I’ll never see him again. “Just wait, okay? That crew might be digging into the forest north of here. I’m not going to let you go wandering off to get shot. Let’s figure things out first. Get our bearings and decide then, fathom?”

  Longwei hesitates. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “Let me check the path. Just wait here for a second.”

  He presses his back to the nearest tree. I push myself up against it slowly, get a better grip on my gloves, and ease beneath the branches. Careful not to make a sound, I turn the corner.

  And she’s there. A dark braid drapes over one shoulder. The familiar nyxian mask covers her jaw; a gunmetal suit hugs her hips. We see each other and the world pauses. She is Kaya. She looks just like Kaya. But then our eyes meet, and I know that’s a lie. She’s got the wrong eyes. They’re angrier, darker, storms. She’s someone else entirely.

  The second ends and the girl lunges at me.

  I lean back just enough to catch the blade across my shoulder, to hear the rip of my suit, to feel the spurt of hot blood. She twists to plant her second knife in my stomach, but I parry and absolutely crush her wrist. The pain pulls a strangled noise from her throat, and the next second comes in a lightning strike, a half-taken breath.

  Pause and I die; hesitate and I lose; wait and it’s over.

  I bring my left hand around and crush her. There’s something horrible about how her body drops, but I take my stance and backpedal, searching for the next target, body trembling with fear and adrenaline. Who was that? What is going on?

  A boy shoots through a gap in the trees. He’s all Iowa. Blond and bleached and freckled, but he strikes like he was born with a sword in his hand. I get my off hand up, manage another parry, and a third blow jars my footing. He shoves nyxia forward like a wave and I’m knocked back by the force of it, flattened and breathless. The only thing that stops his sword from cutting me in two is Longwei.

  A hand’s length of nyxia punches through the kid’s back, and I roll right as he collapses in a bloody heap. Longwei and I stare at the fallen teens—both gasping—before we remember there are more; there are others. No one appears down the path, so we ease back around the corner, hoping to call out a warning. But it’s too late.

  Back in the opening, warfare surrounds the tunnel entrance. Our crews have formed a tight circle to protect Jacquelyn. I can see the dark circle of Omar’s tomb hovering beside her as she works. Morning and the others stand shoulder to shoulder, their nyxian shields looming in front of them. Seven unfamiliar faces harass the edges.

  It’s cle
ar they’ve been trained. They are Genesis, just like us. Longwei and I watch as one of them jabs a spear forward to weaken the nyxian shield between Noor and Parvin. The blow strikes true. Nyxia shudders, blinks, and the hole in the armor widens.

  Noor stares out, wide-eyed and openmouthed.

  Parvin’s hand slaps down on the shoulder of Noor’s hijab. She tugs hard, and Noor’s whole body dips just as an ax comes flying forward. It skims her temple, a glancing blow. She drops and the circle reforms as Jaime steps in to help them shore up the line.

  Their summoned shields flicker dangerously. I can hear Morning scream in fury. I start forward, but duck back again when a familiar face appears to our right.

  Marcus Defoe strides out of the forest.

  “Stand down, Genesis 13.”

  The angry circle backs off. Weapons are kept at the ready, but they put some distance between Morning and the rest of our team. Genesis 13. A third Genesis, a third ship. Babel’s secrets keep expanding and evolving. A girl slips out of the forest to join the others.

  That makes eight.

  Eight because we killed the other two. I bury that thought.

  “Genesis 11 and 12,” he announces. “I am going to offer this once.”

  Inside the circle, there’s so much anger that a section of the nyxian shield actually lashes out at him. Defoe throws up a forearm and deflects the blow with ease. I narrow my eyes and take note of Jacquelyn at the door, continuing to work on the entrance code. She said two minutes and it’s already been three. She has to be close to opening it, but how the hell do we get to them?

  “The Adamite population has just been significantly reduced,” Defoe says. “We also found the fallout shelter. That aircraft station was quite clever. I wonder how much time and effort went into it. We needed about five minutes to burn the facility to the ground.