by M. R. Forbes
“It’s about time,” she replied, sweeping in on another Goreshin and cutting off its head. She turned to the next, nearly knocked away as Trin was thrown past, crashing and sliding along the floor.
“Void,” she said, returning her attention to the Immolent.
He was charging her again, a second blade in his other hand. She bounced forward to meet him, claws catching the blades, turning them as she twisted and kicked him in the chest. He fell back, rolling to his feet in silence, throwing one of the blades at her. She tried to move aside. Too slow. It dug past the shardsuit and into her shoulder, burying itself deep in her flesh.
“Queenie,” Pik shouted.
Bullets started hitting the Immolent, seeming to bounce off his armor. He kept coming at Abbey, not giving her time to remove the blade. She fought one-handed, backing up as she blocked strike after strike, throwing out the Gift to help defend herself. While the Shard’s Gift was clean and pure, she could tell it was weaker in some ways than the Nephilim’s version. She didn’t have the same brute force power as before. She had to fight smarter.
She turned into the Immolent’s next attack, allowing the blade to strike her, letting it dig into her side. It hurt, but if she survived the wounds would heal. She twisted, giving her opponent the choice of following the blade or losing it. He chose to follow, stepping in a little closer than he should have.
She lunged forward, slamming her forehead into his mask. It shattered beneath the blow, the pieces digging into the Immolent’s face as he was sent reeling away. Abbey ignored the blades in her flesh, bringing up her claws, ready to send them deep into the Immolent’s throat.
She froze at the sight of him. Or rather, her. She was just a child. No more than sixteen. But her eyes. They were black and empty. She stared back at Abbey with no emotion, no submission. No anything.
She was somebody’s Hayley or had been once.
The thought caused Abbey to hesitate. Almost for too long. The Immolent’s hand lunged forward, a fresh blade springing into it, aimed at the base of her neck.
Trin’s hand caught the Immolent’s wrist, stopping the blade. She broke it smoothly, the effort not eliciting anything from the Immolent. Then she removed the enemy’s head.
Abbey took a step back, glancing at Trinity before tracking the rest of the space. The Goreshin were all dead. Phlenel and Jequn were standing over them, suddenly still as the battle wound down. Further away, Pik and Benhil were kicking soldiers with their feet, making sure they were dead and would stay that way.
Gant was kneeling over their target and looking at her; his expression concerned as his eyes landed on the Immolent’s blades. She let the claws sink back into the shardsuit, reaching down, pulling them out of her flesh, and dropping them on the ground. She could feel the naniates move to heal her body, the pain easing as they did.
“They’re nothing but servants,” Trin said. “Slaves to Thraven. It looks childlike, but there’s nothing childlike about it.”
“How?” Abbey said, still a little off-balance.
“He trains them as Evolents. If they’re strong enough, he may make them Immolents. His personal bodyguards. He takes their identity. Their memories. Everything. That way they have no opportunity to be disloyal. He wanted to make me into one of them after Villanueve was done with me.”
“If it’s a bodyguard, why would it be here without him?”
“If it’s here then Thraven isn’t far behind. He probably sent the Immolent because he couldn’t send me.”
“I can’t fight Thraven yet,” Abbey said. “I’m not strong enough.”
“I know. We have to finish what we came here to do. Locate the factory.”
“How? My target is dead.”
“I found you after Mamma Oissi was dead,” Trin said. “You can do the same.”
“Read a dead man’s mind?”
“Yes. We need to hurry.”
19
“Joker, Okay, Pudding,” Abbey said. “Secure the building. We’re going to be surrounded by Planetary Defense in about twenty seconds, and I don’t want them coming in here.”
“You want to start with PD?” Benhil asked.
“Want has nothing to do with it.”
“Roger,” Pik said. “On it.”
“Imp,” Abbey said.
Bastion didn’t reply.
“Imp,” she repeated.
“Shit. I’m here, Queenie,” Bastion said.
“Where the hell have you been? Void and Pudding are here, and you never said a fragging word to me about it.”
“Yeah, I know. Gant trailed the goons, some scary asshole trailed Gant, and Void and Pudding trailed him. Little did I know they were going to try to get onto the Faust. Their ship is like a fragging clown car.”
“A what?” she asked, not getting the reference.
“Ancient history,” Bastion replied. “I got it from Gant. Anyway, I managed to get the Faust in the air but not before they got inside.”
“Are you okay?” Abbey said, her anger fading, replaced with a level of concern that surprised her.
“I’m fine now. I’m sorry I let you down, Queenie.”
“Forget about it. I need you over Brighton for extraction. Think you can handle it?”
“PD is swarming toward you, but I can make a pass. Is Cherub with you?”
Abbey looked back at Jequn, who was holding up a teleporter.
“She is. Good thinking. Give me two minutes.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to read a dead man’s mind.”
“Are you fragging kidding me?”
“Do I sound like I’m kidding you?”
“Good point. They haven’t figured out who you are yet, so I’ve got clearance at ten-thousand meters. I’ll drop down to you on your mark.”
“Roger. Standby.”
“Roger.”
Abbey turned to Trinity. “Tell me what to do.”
They walked over to where Gant was standing beside the dead Tridium employee. He looked her over, satisfied that her wounds had healed and the shardsuit had closed back over.
“What’s our move?” he asked.
“The Nephilim have a specially designed glove that uses electrical impulses to stimulate the brain and an onboard chip that turns those signals back into a visual memory.” Trin knelt beside the man, lifting him so that his head was propped on her knee. “It’s the same method of recall he would have used if he were still breathing.”
“I don’t have a glove,” Abbey said.
“You seem to be able to shape them into whatever you need,” Trin replied.
“It can’t be that simple.”
“It might not be. What choice do we have? We were spotted on our way in, and now the only link from Tridium to the Elysium Gate is dead.”
Abbey looked into the man’s dead eyes. She had to try. “What should I do?”
“You need to get to his brain. It’s easier with a Rudin, but not impossible here.” She extended one of her blades, sinking it into the man’s face. “Cutting away the top of the jaw is the easiest.” She wrenched the blade, a wet crack sounding beneath the man’s flesh.
“This is one of the least pleasant things I’ve had to see lately,” Gant said. “And that’s saying a lot.”
Trinity didn’t respond. She cut away the man’s skin before finishing the job with one of her hands, separating part of the skull and leaving access to his brain.
Abbey felt nauseous at the sight, but she leaned in anyway, reaching into the bloody mess until she felt resistance. She kept her hand there and closed her eyes. She sent the instructions to the Gift, hoping they would understand what to do, like they had with the Faust. She needed to see his memories. She needed to know what he knew.
She felt the Gift moving along her skin, a soft warmth growing where she was touching the flesh. Pain in her eye nearly caused her to release him and step away, but she didn’t. They needed the intel. Sharp stabbing pains followed in her left eye, fo
llowed by quickly accelerating flashes. Her hand was growing warmer, the naniates flowing around the dead man’s brain and firing electrical impulses into it.
The man’s mouth opened, and he moaned softly.
“Queenie, I’m in position,” Bastion announced.
“Shh,” she replied. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Geez, first you give me shit about not calling you, and then you give me shit when I do.”
“She’s a woman,” Gant said. “That’s her prerogative.”
Abbey spared a glance at Gant for his comment. He chittered in reply.
“Could both of you shut up?” she said.
She returned her attention to the Gift. The pain was increasing, but so was the flow of color. She recognized it as data. A different form, maybe, but she knew that’s what it was. She pushed a little harder, and the color began to coalesce and form a scene. It was chaotic and confusing and frightening, and it took her a moment to realize it was what he had seen and felt the moment before he died. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Thraven had betrayed him.
What else was new?
She needed to go back. Earlier. She passed the message along to the naniates, and the image dissolved back into color, reshaping a few seconds later. Now she saw the pod tunnels, right before the lights went out completely. It was the moment she had crashed the system. She hadn’t gone back far enough.
Once more, the colors dissolved and reformed. Now she was looking at a terminal with a list of names and times. It vanished all too quickly as her target stood to leave.
“Bring it back,” she said out loud. “I need it.”
“Need what?” Gant said.
She didn’t reply. The terminal returned, frozen in time. She scanned the list. They were starships. All of them had left the planet already.
All of them except for one.
The Termilon.
It was waiting at the spaceport. Launchpad fourteen.
It was leaving in eighteen minutes, headed toward a destination marked only as ‘F.’ She assumed that meant factory.
She pulled her hand away, the blood and detritus pushed away from her by the naniates as she did.
There was one last ship headed out to the Gate, and she intended to be on it.
20
“That’s crazy,” Benhil said after Abbey had quickly filled them all in on her idea. “We should stick together.”
“We need to get to the Gate,” Abbey replied. “This is the easiest and most efficient way. There’s nothing crazy about it.”
“Except for the part where you make yourself invisible.”
“That was Okay’s idea.”
“Glad I could help, Queenie,” Pik said over the comm.
“What about the part where Thraven is on his way here?” Benhil added.
“All the more reason to get there before he does,” Abbey replied. She still didn’t know why the Gloritant wanted to visit the factory now, but anything he wanted, she wanted to take away.
“Queenie, you need to be careful,” Jequn said. “Even if the Gift is pure, it can’t support you indefinitely. It will expend its energy and require more of yours.”
“My stomach’s already grumbling,” Abbey said. “But all I need to do is get on board. Then I can stay hidden on my own. When the Termilon reaches its destination, I’ll hack the comm array and send you the coordinates. You ride in, we sabotage the Gate, and we’re on our way.”
“You know it isn’t going to be that simple,” Benhil said. “It never is.”
“I know. But we always manage.”
“Queenie,” Bastion said. “I’m on my way in. Is everybody ready?”
Pik, Benhil, and Jequn had been firing potshots out at Planetary Defense, keeping them honest. Now that they had what they came for it was time to bug out.
“Standby,” Abbey said. “Cherub, Okay, Joker, time to go.”
“Roger,” Pik said.
“Why do we keep getting split up?” Gant asked, looking at her with big, sad eyes.
She smiled. “It’ll only be for a few hours at most. Then you owe me the rest of our dance.”
He laughed in response. “Roger that.”
Abbey felt a hand on her shoulder. She glanced over, finding Phlenel standing beside her. The Hurshin hadn’t brought her bot along, leaving her unable to vocalize easily. She used hand gestures instead, pointing to herself and then to Abbey. A moment later, her gelatinous form shifted, leaving only a faint outline of her form. Apparently, Abbey wasn’t the only one who could make themselves disappear.
“Fine. Pudding, you’re with me. Imp, we’re ready to go.”
“Roger,’ Bastion replied. “Initiating drop now. Count to ten and then step through the teleporter.”
“You heard him,” Abbey said to the others.
“Be careful out there, Queenie,” Pik said.
“You too, Okay,” Abbey replied.
She watched as Jequn dropped the teleporter on the ground in front of her and activated it. The light on it was still red, the other end out of range. Benhil and Pik appeared from opposite ends of the room.
“PD is moving in,” Benhil said. “Don’t let them catch you here.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Abbey said.
She could feel the warmth of the Gift on her skin, and she held up her hand, smiling as the naniates began bending the light, wrapping it around so that it started to blend with the background.
“Cool, it works,” Pik said.
“Yes, it is cool,” Abbey agreed. “And yes, it does work.”
She felt a tickle on her face as the machines moved up and over it, some of them slipping into her nose and ears and mouth, covering every inch of her. She heard boots moving toward them from outside and pointed as the light on the teleporter changed.
“I’m in position,” Bastion said.
“They’re on their way,” Abbey replied. “Get back to orbit, make yourself scarce, and standby.”
“Roger. Stay safe out there.”
The other Rejects vanished through the teleporter one by one, with Gant taking up the rear. He glanced back as he stepped into the device, a worried look on his face.
Abbey reached down and scooped up the teleporter, sticking it in a tightpack. “We need to move,” she said to Phlenel, barely able to see the slight alteration of light as it passed through her nearly transparent form.
A Planetary Defense squad swept into the room before they could move, weapons raised and ready. They scanned the area quickly, moving in and checking first on the headless monsters littering the floor, and then on the Immolent.
“What the frag?” one of them said.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” another added.
“Sarge, we’ve got a seriously fragged situation in here,” the first said into his comm. He noticed the dead Tridium employee a moment later. “Seriously fragged,” he repeated.
Abbey waited for him to look away before moving carefully in the other direction. She could sense Phlenel nearby, surprised when she saw the Hurshin had changed shape, flattening herself and crawling along the floor.
Now that was impressive.
They didn’t have time to be too cautious, and Abbey picked up the pace as they reached the side of the room, rushing forward and toward the exit. She could see the street ahead of them, where dozens of bystanders had gathered to see what all the fuss was about, and PD vehicles were ringing the area, bright lights running along the buildings in search of anything suspicious. She could still hear the slight rumble of the Faust’s thrusters carrying her back into space, and see the fiery trails of the starfighters in pursuit.
She slowed again when she reached the exit, a little nervous about stepping into the open. There were dozens of eyes on her position. Was her cloak sufficient to hide her? She stepped over the threshold, feeling as though she were back on Taggers’ stage, except this time she was completely naked.
She looked out at the individuals, tryin
g to meet their eyes with hers. The world was fuzzy in front of her, the thin line of naniates covering her head blurring her vision. She could see well enough to know that they couldn’t see her. The cloak was perfect.
It was also draining. She could feel her energy being sapped, her energy fading with the effort. Cloaking a starship used massive amounts of reactor power. Why would cloaking herself be any different? She would be able to keep it up until they boarded the Termilon, but she knew already she would be desperately hungry afterward. Maybe Phlenel could raid their fridge.
She moved away from the crowd, pausing to look back for the Hurshin. She had disappeared, blending in so well Abbey couldn’t find her either. She decided not to worry, certain that Phlenel would be able to keep up. She focused on getting herself away, passing within inches of an armored PD vehicle with a squad of soldiers behind it, using it as cover. They didn’t turn their heads as she walked by. They didn’t know she was there.
She dropped the cloak once she was outside the main defensive perimeter, choosing to take her chances instead of wasting too much energy. She stepped back out into the street dressed in light once more, though she chose a more subtle pattern that wouldn’t draw so much attention. The pod terminal was a short distance away, and she headed for it at a brisk walk. The Termilon was leaving in ten minutes.
She was joined by a stranger at the halfway point, a man who didn’t speak as he sidled up next to her, winking at her with a single translucent eye. Abbey reached out and took his hand, holding it as though they were a couple as they covered the rest of the distance together, descending into the terminal and waiting only a few seconds for a pod to share.
“Spaceport,” Abbey said as they boarded. “Launchpad fourteen.”
The pod started to accelerate, zipping into the tunnels.
“There are going to be guards at the launchpad terminal,” Abbey said.
Phlenel nodded.
“Do you have a gun hiding in there somewhere?”
She shook her head.