Nyxia Unleashed_The Nyxia Triad

by Scott Reintgen

  “You have a choice. Go through that door with Jacquelyn Requin, and you become enemy number one. You will be hunted. You will lose. But put your weapons down and join us now, and we’ll take you back. You can be a part of our work here. You can be on the winning side of history. We will only offer this once.”

  One of the black links in the shield breaks. Jaime pushes through the opening, and for a heartbreaking second I think that he’s going to take Defoe’s offer, that he’s actually giving up. But then I remember the hatred that’s burned in him for weeks now.

  A new fear whispers through me. He’s not thinking straight. He’s trading all of his caution and carefully followed rules for rage and fury, and he’s aiming all that he is at Defoe.

  Jaime confirms his intention by hefting a sword up and closing the gap between them. His eyes are set. His hands do not shake. My heart breaks, though, because I know without a doubt that Jaime is about to die.

  “You made me kill him, you bastard!” Jaime shouts. “Do they know what you are? Do they know what you did to us?”

  Without breaking his stride, Jaime swings. It’s a moment frozen in time. I see his green eyes narrow. His high cheekbones sharpen as he shouts in rage. It’s a massive, sweeping blow.

  And Defoe turns it away with a flick of his wrist. Then he slides forward with such savage grace that I fall to my knees in horror. Jaime gasps as the blade slips in and out of his chest, but his hands keep reaching, so desperate to punish for so long. Somehow he gets a hold on Defoe’s collar before he falls.

  He smiles up. “You’re shorter than I remember.”

  And he cracks his forehead into Defoe’s nose.

  All hell breaks loose. Jaime drops. Our Genesis crew comes flying out from behind the nyxian shield. Defoe is stumbling back, blood gushing from his nose, eyes darting from opponent to opponent. Longwei and I don’t even hesitate. I push back to my feet and we both go running forward. Their back line turns just in time to catch claws and swords.

  Blood spills with frightening ease. The nightmare is all around us. I turn away a spear, spinning around Longwei to jab a claw at someone else. Together we press a kid who looks just like me but with a flat-top. A blow catches his wrist and he falls. There’s a quick second where he considers kicking his way out, but a slash from Longwei has him screaming surrender.

  A brief step back offers a highlight of the chaos. Alex is standing protectively over Jaime, blood streaking one cheek, shouting a dare for anyone to challenge him. Azima doesn’t need to shout. She moves through their ranks with frightening ease, spear lashing out, finding a home in the weakest places of their defenses.

  Holly lands a perfect hook before ducking the swing of someone’s ax. Jacquelyn comes flying out of nowhere and lands a brutal blow with a nyxian weapon I’ve never seen before.

  Longwei and I start to turn our fury elsewhere, but then I catch a glimpse of Morning.

  She’s slipped through the lines. Her hatchets are seeking a home in Defoe. The sight of them freezes me on the edge of the battle. Longwei backs away, ready to fend off attackers, but my entire body locks up as Morning’s movement becomes music.

  Defoe blocks a sideswipe, and another, but she ducks inside and lures him in with the most beautiful feint I’ve ever seen. His footing stumbles. She forces him to block downward or get gutted, and the movement leaves his bad hand hanging, completely exposed.

  Morning shows no mercy.

  Her next blow takes his hand at the wrist, clean through.

  He screams, dropping to a knee. She presses to finish, but his nyxian armor lashes out like lightning. She barely shields herself in time. The dark tendrils snake through the air, hitting a few of his own soldiers. We watch them drop as a violent current trembles to life.

  Everything around Defoe gets forced back by a blast of power. Defoe’s nyxia blooms out, and I barely spy him sprinting through a back door in his swirling creation.

  Several Genesis 13 fighters have to dive out of his way. He’s twenty meters clear before he turns, manipulating nyxia, his eyes bright and dangerous. We see him drop something on the ground as he continues sprinting the other way.

  Morning’s pursuit almost gets her blown in two. She dives left as an explosion rips through the air. The concussive blast takes us all off our feet.

  By the time the smoke starts to clear, Defoe’s a dark and distant shadow. Longwei squeezes my elbow before pursuing. I can hear the others calling after him, shouting, but he doesn’t look back. A few surviving Genesis 13 soldiers surrender in seconds.

  I ignore them as I run to help Morning to her feet. She’s on her back, eyes a little wide. Blood is slipping down the side of one ear. “Are you okay?” I shout. “Morning, are you okay?”

  She gives me a dazed look, takes a ragged breath, and flashes a thumbs-up.

  “Jaime,” she says, too loud. “Help Jaime.”

  Nodding, I stumble back to my feet and cross the bloody field. The survivors are almost all on our side. Three of the Genesis 13 crew have surrendered. Holly’s carefully tying hands behind backs and checking pockets for extra nyxia. She’s got a gash across one cheek. Noor’s sitting up, and Parvin’s there, holding a bandage to her head.

  Jaime’s on his back, staring up at the blue. He looks more pale than ever. I kneel at his side, feeling for a pulse. It’s barely there. He’s lost a lot of blood. His eyes find mine.

  “Emmett—” A bloody cough cuts him off. “I feel so much better now.”

  He smiles at that, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s a final gasp and then his mouth goes slack. My face falls and there’s nothing to do but cry.

  Chapter 45

  The Garden of Eden

  Emmett Atwater

  We bury the dead in beauty.

  The garden we walk through shouldn’t exist, it shouldn’t be allowed. How can something be so beautiful after all that’s happened? Shouldn’t the darkness twist and kill things that look like this? We walk past slick trunks and over dark soil. Above us, the branches form a strangling canopy. Clouds and hills reduce the sun to a few slashes of faded gold.

  In that impossible place, in that endless, inhuman beauty, we bury the ones we loved.

  Parvin manipulates a little spoon and sets it on Omar’s grave. I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but her hand trembles as she pulls away, eyes lost to tears. Holly and Noor wrap their arms around her. Morning says her own goodbye, leaning quietly over the grave of her friend and brother-in-arms.

  I walk forward next. There’s only one song Jaime ever asked me to play for him. It’s one of those songs I forgot was even on my player. The kind of song a white boy like Jaime would love. It wasn’t until I listened to the lyrics that I understood.

  The song’s all about the family he never had. Not until he found us.

  I put the song on repeat and set it next to his grave. I use the cord Vandemeer gave me to plug into the nyxia. I step back and imagine the song playing forever, just for him. Morning stands beside me, a tear running down one cheek, her jaw clenched tight.

  A glance down our ranks shows gaps in the line. Omar usually stood there; Jaime usually stood here. Longwei’s gone too. I fight back the tears and take Morning’s hand in mine. She looks up at me—fierce and heartbroken—before gripping tightly back.

  I clear my throat. “Shoulder to shoulder.”

  It takes a few seconds for the rest of them to figure it out, but the others close the remaining gaps. Azima wraps a lanky arm around Jazzy’s shoulder. Katsu presses in next to Alex, and we make the saddest half-moon I’ve ever seen. We stand there—a dysfunctional family at a funeral—and everyone joins hands up and down the lines. Morning lifts mine and kisses the back of it, a wordless thank-you, as the entire group circles the fresh graves.

  “Shoulder to shoulder,” she calls.

  Our whole group echoes the words.

  I give Morning’s hand another squeeze as we move apart. We move on to other sections of the garden and start
helping to bury the fallen Imago victims. The surviving military boats didn’t leave their dead behind. It takes hours, but we work hard, knowing all of them put their lives on the line to see us safely to shore.

  Grave after grave, we turn a place of beauty into a lost paradise.

  We bury our enemies too. The Imago don’t help us dig the graves of the fallen members of Genesis 13. We killed them. The task belongs to us. And even though the Imago have the survivors in chains, they’re merciful enough to let them stand over each grave and say a quiet word for the departed. I watch until I can’t stand the sight any longer.

  I’m so tired of counting ghosts.

  Jacquelyn returns as the camp starts preparing to march. After the showdown with Defoe, she took scouts through the tunnels to try to confirm his claims about the launch station. We all listen with dread as she delivers her report to the Imago leadership council. It takes a few minutes for her to move on to us, gathering the whole Genesis crew around.

  “Defoe was telling the truth,” she says. “The launch station was destroyed.”

  The truth hits our group hard. We all know the station was our way off-planet.

  “Was it Longwei?” Jacquelyn asks. “Did he clue them in to where we were heading? I saw him run off after Defoe when the fight finished.”

  I take a quick step forward. “It wasn’t him. Longwei and I talked in Sevenset. He was kind of an asshole in space. Always took things too seriously. Never hung out with any of us. He’s been coming around lately, though. He suggested going to Babel and working from the inside out. Figured they would expect him to take their side.”

  Jacquelyn frowns. “And you really believe that?”

  I nod. “He made the decision before he knew any of this would happen. He was willing to risk his chance to escape to make sure we got into space. I believe him.”

  “Right,” Jacquelyn says. “Well, someone or something gave us away to Babel. We’re monitoring all communications from here on out. If we catch even a whisper of an unauthorized signal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

  Our entire group nods.

  “You’re smart enough to understand that this changes everything.” Jacquelyn eyes the group, like she’s trying to figure out how much fight we have left. “Our launch station is gone. We will divert the survivors toward other stations. We have to figure out how extensive the damage is first. How many stations has Babel destroyed? Have the other rings successfully reached their launch centers? Babel hit us where it counted. We’re a long way from home now.”

  “So what happens now?” Parvin asks.

  “We still don’t know what Babel knows,” Jacquelyn says. “We have no idea if they figured out what the launch station was or why it was built. Our plan is to move on to a secondary base, assess readouts of the other launch stations, and form a plan from there. Half of the Remnant survived. They are our priority. You are our priority. I speak for the rest of our group when I say that we will do everything in our power—we will bleed and sweat and fight—to get you home. Are you with us?”

  Morning looks around our group before looking back at Jacquelyn.

  “Babel has no idea what’s coming.”

  The Imago lead us out of the garden, away from a paradise we never knew. We walk for hours, and I feel bound to this place, chained and six feet deep already. I’m an angel without wings. I’m a demon without fire. It’s such a horrible feeling that I mistake it for emptiness.

  But as we make camp for the night, I know I’m not empty. Morning curls up beside me. I hold her close enough that I can hear her heartbeat. It’s a rhythm that I want to listen to forever. It says we are still alive, still here. But as night comes, I can feel a darker rhythm beating in my own chest. It’s a song I thought I’d buried a long time ago, beneath prettier chords.

  We’ve lost too much. We’ve been pushed too far.

  The darker song stretches and grows and fills the gaping holes in my chest. It is broken bones and black eyes, dropped bombs and endless lies. A lifetime of injustices burn their way to an inferno. Anger rises from it all like smoke. There’s only one truth left in my world:

  Babel will burn.

  Chapter 46

  The First Reckoning

  Anton Stepanov

  I’m marched, hands tied, to the command center of the Tower Space Station.

  Out the bone-thick windows, stars. Count them, Father always commanded. His favorite drinking game. He liked seeing how the constellations changed after a drink, or five.

  But I have more important things to count, Father. Better games to play too. A pair of guards flank me, my unsuspecting captors. As they switched shifts, one of them saw me slipping inside a maintenance closet. The ghost haunting their halls manifested in plain sight. It was their chance to play the hero. It still took them five minutes to crack the door open and bravely toss a stun grenade inside. Spineless, but effective.

  This is the classic movie scene. The captive led before the king. I learned all this long ago. The kind of men who wear imaginary crowns always enjoy a stage. My capture will be made into a spectacle. Requin will make the conversation into a show. Erone and I are counting on it. Getting captured was just the first part of the plan. As we walk, I do my best to shake off the effects of the smoke. I’d like to be sharp, remember my lines, when the time comes to face him.

  I play Morning’s games to wake myself up. Case the rooms. Weigh the situation. Measure the odds. I’m flanked by two guards. The one at my left shoulder walks with a gentle limp. Something in his right knee, some issue nyxian surgery couldn’t fix. The guard on my right is probably the oldest person on the ship. He looks healthy enough, but I can hear the gaps in his labored breathing. These are a far cry from the physical elites Babel usually boasts.

  And the halls, they echo. The little antibodies usually running through the winding, technological stomach are mostly gone. They’re left vulnerable. A week ago, I’d never have dared these halls. Too much foot traffic. Random checkpoints and roaming guards.

  Where are they now?

  Vandemeer was right. Something big was in motion. It’s already happened.

  My elder captor swipes open a doorway. Beneath the automated hiss, I hear a faint echo. The guards don’t notice it because they’re not listening for it. The sound is ethereal, like the groan of an automated ghost. It’s the second step in Erone’s plan.

  I swallow a smile as we move through the ringed defenses that guard the central command deck. We pass only three workers. All mechanics. We also pass two bays of escape pods, both emptied. Finally we reach the seventh and final door. The elder guard punches a button and announces our arrival. Both men straighten shoulders, trying to stand tall.

  This is their moment of glory.

  The doors open. The command room is a series of sleek, circling desks. Holographic readouts color the air, and headsets glow like rave lights. It takes me two seconds to pick out Melissa Aguilar in the crowd. She’s off to my right. Our informant aboard Genesis 12. She’s buried in the light of her screen. She doesn’t notice my entrance.

  Unintelligible murmurs fill the air with data. Requin broods over it all, and I steal a glimpse of him before he sees it’s me. The weight of an imaginary crown has bent and grayed him. Something rotten in the state of Denmark. I smirk.

  Seeing me, the wear vanishes. He lets out a laugh.

  “Anton? It was you all this time? Good God, how did you even get up here?”

  The random activity ceases. Every eye turns to watch the king’s play.

  I know all my lines. “A cargo shipment.”

  Requin laughs again. “Morning’s idea?”

  “She’s the brain and I’m the body.”

  “And in a fitting poetic end, the body has failed the mind. Your reign of terror is over.” Requin stands, gesturing to the nearest techie. At his command, our sprawling view of space is replaced by video footage. “You’re just in time for an update on our progress in Eden.”

&nb
sp; We get a bird’s-eye view of shattered cities. The ocean has swallowed fallen buildings. Boats move through the wreckage, manned by Babel marines. Requin signals again, and we see another ring, another atrocity. Requin turns back to me, no longer smiling.

  “We’ve won,” he says. “The war is over.”

  War. We’ve brought our taste for destruction across the galaxy. I eye the wreckage, thinking about how familiar it all looks. I’ve seen buildings like these before, billions of kilometers away. I’m thankful when Requin turns off the screens. Images of a destroyed Sevenset could ruin our plans. If Erone sees them …

  “They call it Magnia.”

  Requin shrugs. “What they call it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I survey the damage again. “Morning? The Genesis teams?”

  Alex? Is Alex alive? Please let him be alive.

  Requin says, “Alive for now.”

  “Send us home.”

  I feel guilty trying to make it work this way. It’s a selfish route, one that ignores the Imago. “Send us back to Earth, and I’ll let you live, Requin.”

  “You will let me live?” He laughs. “It’s over. We’re waiting for the count, but I’d guess there will be ten thousand Adamites left. Their armies will be scattered and broken. You and your friends will remain here, as was agreed upon.”

  “We never agreed to that.”

  “It’s in the contracts,” Requin answers. “Tricky clauses, but it’s all in there. You signed them, remember? You’ve agreed to stay here for the long haul.”

  “That’s a lie,” I say, nodding at the nearest techie. “And he’s going to die for it. It was just going to be you, but now he dies too. Every time you lie, I pick another one.”

  The techie looks shocked, but Requin only laughs. “Enough with the games, Anton.”

  “I’ll give you one more chance. Arrange my flight home, or die.”

  Requin shakes his head. “No, Anton. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

  “Two chances. I gave you two chances. Now I’ll extend the opportunity to your friends here. Anyone who wants to live, give up your weapons right now. Set them on the floor and you’ll be spared. Fight back, and you will die. I’m telling you this up front so you know the rules.”