Nyxia Unleashed

by Scott Reintgen

  Jazzy nods. We glide over the water, heading directly toward the staggering stones that mark the waiting divide. Genesis 12 keeps the pace. At the last possible second, I make the call.

  “Move us east.”

  Our boat dives that way. Genesis 12 glides the opposite. I look back and throw them my most surprised look. I try to make my voice loud enough so they’ll hear every word.

  “No! Back that way! Come on, Jazzy!”

  The engines roar, and we catch a final glimpse of their crew before a veil of riverside trees swallows everything. “You still have a ways to go in your acting career,” Jaime snarks.

  Katsu laughs. “And the award for Worst Dramatic Role as a Ship Captain goes to…”

  I laugh. “I will throw both of you overboard. Speak is probably honor-bound to save your sorry asses because of the treaty, but that won’t stop me from doing it.”

  They exchange a look and laugh again. I shake my head before eyeing the riverway. The sudden absence of Genesis 12 brings out the wonders of Grimgarden. It was easy to think that this was our river. That’s what living on Earth has taught us. We can treat anything like it belongs to us. It’s clear, though, that we’re nothing more than guests here.

  The normal inhabitants have taken note of our passing.

  We see a pair of fish streak through the water on our right before breaching. Their scaled bodies spiral out, unexpected wings flung wide. Water splashes in an arc as they flap through the air and cut overhead, eager to duck back into the cover of trees.

  Jazzy keeps scanning around every corner, relaying potential dangers or asking for more speed when the scans come back clear. The orbiting power of the nyxia continues to hum in startling harmony. I think about the first time Morning taught me how to do it, how our steps synched up effortlessly. The same thing is happening now.

  I can sense each moment before it comes. It’s like precognition. A feeling that says Longwei’s about to gun the engine or Jaime’s about to shift our rudders. Speaker’s reaction is telling too. We have a knowledge he didn’t expect us to have.

  Halfway to Myriad Station, a golden glow highlights the water in front of our ship. Jazzy points out the glittering lights, and Speaker explains, “Looklocks.”

  Their bright pattern extends out like an arrow. Jazzy watches them long enough to notice the pattern. “They’re taking all the right turns. How do they know which way we’re going?”

  “Intuition,” Speaker answers. “The looklocks will choose correctly for a while. Twenty turns. Fifty turns. Long enough to lure you into trusting them.”

  “And then what happens?” Azima asks, fascinated.

  “The very moment you stop attending your instruments and start trusting their lead, they will take a turn that goes nowhere. They will distract you into a bank or a sandbar. After the crash, they’ll feed on the dead.”

  “Everything out here is so lethal,” Jaime complains. “Next you’ll be telling us to avoid stepping on fallen leaves or something.”

  “That is a sound practice,” Speaker replies, missing Jaime’s sarcasm. “The graya create traps beneath the larger piles. It is always better to avoid them.”

  Jaime looks around at us and just shakes his head.

  The golden school of looklocks highlights our way for a while, but their own hunt is interrupted by another. Azima points to a nest hanging from a tree on the eastern banks. It looks just like a massive beehive, but the entryways are bigger than my head.

  I’d rather not meet an insect that needs a home that big.

  “A vayan nest,” Speaker announces. “They’re one of the—”

  But movement cuts off his sentence. Three creatures—vayans, apparently—come spiraling through the dark doorways of the hanging nest. The creatures’ muscled bodies are the color of steel, and they’re no bigger than basketballs. All three of them land in the water, frantic limbs fighting gravity, and then they’re up.

  My eyes struggle to follow their mad dash over the surface of the water. The school of looklocks either sees or hears their approach, because the golden glow vanishes instantly.

  But that doesn’t stop the hunters. Silver tongues stab down through the water like spears. Each vayan circles as our ship passes, busy jaws crunching down on their catches before making a path back to their nest.

  For the next few kilometers, we forget we’re in the middle of a race. We don’t slow the pace, but all of us watch the river in the hope of witnessing more miracles. Finally we’re getting the hang of being the first human explorers on an alien planet. Speaker explains which distant bellows go with what creatures. He does his best to differentiate animals based on their splashes or by the residue they leave along the riverbank.

  Longwei spots a trio of birds wheeling in the western sky. They’re the first creatures moving slowly enough for my scouter to actually identify. The word dirk dances into view.

  Speaker lets out a relieved sigh when the birds change course, vanishing beneath the cover of clouds. “What’s up, Speak?” I ask. “Are dirks dangerous or something?”

  “In a way,” he answers. “They are an indicator of danger. They know where there will be bloodshed. They feed exclusively on the dead.”

  I nod to him. “Like vultures. They always show up when animals die on the side of the road in our world.”

  “Many animals eat the dead,” Speaker admits. “Dirks are different. They arrive before the death. Their arrival is more of a prophecy. Death will visit that place. It’s an unnatural quality. We believe they gain insight by imbibing on the dead. A sense of who or what will die next. I will always be glad to see them turn away from us.”

  Speaker guides us through the tighter passes in the river. We make good time, good enough time to feel like we have a chance at winning. I can’t stop my eyes from occasionally flicking up to the west, searching for the carrion birds. A few times I think I’ve spotted them, wheeling through the trees, but by the time our line of sight clears, there’s nothing but clouds.

  Jazzy’s the first one to spot Myriad Station in the distance.

  It looks like an old man sitting on the riverbank, gray-green shoulders hunched, feet dangling in the river. Our approach sharpens all the details. There’s the main building riding along the banks, then two parallel bridges that connect with another building. The second structure sits fifty meters out on the river and looks like a faded pearl.

  We can see water rushing through massive intake valves at the base of the structure. My mind runs back through images from science classes, faded hydraulics charts in textbooks that were usually older than me. Jazzy pings a location near the south face of the main building. I squint through the approaching dark and spy a pair of docks waiting in the distance.

  “No sign of Genesis 12?” I ask.

  Jazzy smiles back. “Nothing on the scans.”

  Azima raises both arms in triumph. It feels good to win.

  “Take us in.”

  There’s a slight shift, like a passing breeze, as Jaime and Katsu direct us that way. Speaker rises from his station as we cross into Babel territory. He looks uncomfortable.

  “Where did you learn to use the substance that way?” he whispers.

  “Morning figured it out.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “That’s a unique method. Not one we thought Babel knew.”

  “They still don’t. Do you know why it works that way? Why’s it so much stronger?”

  Speaker considers the question carefully. “It’s a return to the substance’s natural state.”

  “Natural state?” I ask, confused now. “But it’s buried in the ground.”

  I can tell I’ve pushed Speaker to the edge of his comfort. He shakes his head.

  “This is a topic best left to the experts in Sevenset. We can discuss it there.”

  I nod a concession as the
boat bumps the docks. It’s a fair request from Speaker. Why discuss trade secrets in one of the only places Babel can call a stronghold? My mind skips from the discussion back to the base. Corporal West should be waiting for us. I’m trying to imagine what he’ll be like. Kit had a boundless energy, an almost innocence.

  But no one comes striding down the docks. No lights flick on in the building. Instead the sun continues to set as Azima leaps down and starts tying us up, a grin on her face.

  “We win again,” she says. “Nice call, Emmett.”

  I nod back, but now my mind’s racing in a few different directions. I’m not sure why West hasn’t come out yet, or at least given some sign that we should come in. And there’s the annoying itch of fear for Morning too. It’s not like her to lose, at least not by this much.

  “Let’s make contact with West,” I say. “Then we’ll come back and check on Genesis 12.”

  Our approach, though, is greeted with silence. A sense of dread snakes through my gut, and I decide to go with the feeling. “Weapons out. Just in case.”

  We reach a section of the docks that runs parallel to the river. A single arched doorway has been carved into the side of Myriad about one hundred meters ahead. My eyes don’t stop moving. I’ve got that walking-on-the-wrong-street-at-the-wrong-time feeling deep in my gut.

  There’s only the river, the building, our footsteps. The dock brings us into Myriad’s shadow. No signs of West. No signs of anything.

  “Inside,” I order. “Let’s keep close. Eyes open.”

  But before we can reach for the door, it shoves open. Holly marches out and holds it in place, eyes empty, posture rigid. We all stare at her as groans echo from inside.

  “Damn it!” Alex’s voice sounds from within. “She ruined the surprise.”

  Our group stumbles inside, up a double-wide ramp, and into a common room that’s almost identical to the one in Foundry. Someone flips on the lights, and we spy members of Genesis 12 hidden around the room like they were preparing for a surprise party. Morning grins down at us from the balcony above.

  “I told you that I don’t lose.”

  Speaker stares in confusion. Our whole crew does.

  “But we didn’t see your boat,” Jazzy says.

  Parvin adjusts her glasses. “That was kind of the point.”

  Morning gives her team a few moments to glory in their win before pointing out the obvious elephant in the room. “Now that that’s out of the way, what do you say we go find Corporal West? I’m guessing you didn’t see him on your way in?”

  “No sign of him.”

  “We found signs of him,” Morning says, nodding to the entrance. “Just didn’t want to investigate until we knew you had safely arrived…after we arrived, of course.”

  I shake my head at the dig. “Lead the way, Captain.”

  The whole crew moves toward the doors. The land-side entrance overlooks a stretching plain. With the sun almost fully set, we can just make out another river cutting a path to the east. Morning gestures to a set of tire tracks running downhill, a little south. A standard Babel knapsack sits right where they begin. It’s unzipped, half the contents spilled onto the ground.

  “Corporal West went for a little joyride,” Katsu says.

  “Maybe,” Morning admits. “I think it’s worth sending a group out after him.”

  It takes about two seconds to figure out what she means. “Let me guess. Your prize for winning is kicking your feet up in the base while we investigate?”

  Morning raises one eyebrow. “Do you even know me? Our prize for winning is that we get to go investigate. Enjoy holding down the fort while we have all the fun, second place.”

  It’s not hard to see why Morning was such a good leader. She’s smart enough to make every task seem like fun. There’s no complaint from anyone on Genesis 12. Her intensity is infectious, and in seconds the whole crew looks ready to march across the planet for her. Bally, Beckway, and Speaker have a quick discussion. They decide that Speaker will stay behind with us.

  Morning takes a second to walk over and stand next to me, all smiles.

  “You know, you look pretty damn cute when you’re mad.”

  “Who said I was mad?”

  “There’s this thing you do with your eyebrow….”

  I stare blankly at her. “What thing?”

  “Oh,” she says, laughing to herself. “You don’t even know you do it, do you?”

  She gives my hip a little bump before marching off, barking orders, becoming the commander again. I stare after her. “What thing?”

  It takes about two minutes for the ranks of Genesis 12 to form up. Morning hands the lead to Bally, who knows the area better than any of them. We watch as they descend into the darkening valley. One by one, their figures merge with the landscape until they’re all gone.

  Our group returns to Myriad. Katsu heads straight for the kitchens, while Jazzy and Azima start up a conversation with Speaker about sports in Sevenset. I’m thinking a bed sounds like a good idea when the realization strikes like lightning: Corporal West isn’t in the base.

  Jaime looks ready to join the others before he notices the look I’m throwing his way. I nod over to one side and shoulder my knapsack. He walks smoothly past the conversation and heads in my direction.

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  “West isn’t here. Seems like a good time to visit the med bay and patch you up.”

  Understanding clicks into place. “You think there are more of them?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Jaime adjusts his scouter. I watch as he blinks through a few settings and then gives the voiced command. “I need to go to the medical bay.”

  The visor panel of his scouter flashes with light. Jaime blinks once, and my own scouter lights up with an access request. I nod at the accept button, and an actual blue line holograms into my vision, leading us on through the base. “The hell…How do you know how to do that?”

  “I read the instructions,” Jaime says. “Didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “I’ve kind of just been winging it. How much time do we have?”

  “Depends how fast your girlfriend finds West.”

  I raise an eyebrow at that.

  “What?” he asks.

  “My girlfriend?”

  “Aren’t you—I thought—Morning…”

  “Next subject,” I suggest.

  Jaime shakes his head as we turn down the first hallway and run right into Longwei. All my red flags go up for some reason. I start to throw out an excuse, give him some reason we’re wandering off through the base, when Jaime says, “Want to see the frozen soldiers?”

  Longwei’s eyes narrow. “How many?”

  He asks it like there’s a certain amount that’s really worth his time.

  “Seventy?” Jaime guesses. “Trust me, you want to see this.”

  Longwei takes a second before nodding. “Let’s go.”

  And just like that the three of us are moving through the halls. I don’t know why my first instinct was to exclude Longwei. I’m glad Jaime invited him, though, because maybe that was all it really took. He might have said no aboard Genesis 11, but now? A lot has changed.

  We might not ever be close friends, but at least we’re not staring at scoreboards every night before we go to bed. We’re together down here. We need each other to survive. I need to start remembering that, even about my oldest rival.

  The route takes us back to the waterside half of the building. Outside, I can hear the river churning past. It’s just loud enough that I almost miss the footsteps. Jaime and Longwei do miss them. In less than a breath, I’ve got them both by the collars of their suits and I’m dragging them into a maintenance room. The footsteps echo louder and louder.

  From the shadow of the room, we all w
atch Holly walk past. She marches toward whatever task is waiting down the hall, looking lost as hell. The second she turns the corner, we’re back on the move. Jaime gives me a nod. “Nice one.”

  Longwei says, “You could have just told us to watch out.”

  I try to ignore that as the route takes us outside, across the first of the two bridges that connect Myriad with its floating counterpart. Jaime looks for signs of movement along the docks before signaling us across. We keep low, moving patiently. One left turn, up a flight of stairs, and we’re standing in front of a familiar door. Jaime pushes it open and lights flick on.

  It’s the exact same layout as Foundry’s med room. Three gurneys arranged in a half circle. A sink built into one corner. Stacks of medical supplies in a makeshift shelving system.

  I cross the room and shove aside the center gurney. There are no scuff marks along the edge, but that doesn’t mean the trapdoor isn’t there. It just means Corporal West had less reason to visit his batch of frozen marines. Or he was more careful about it. My finger snags on an edge and I trace it up to the latch. One solid tug has the whole thing folding upward.

  “We’re getting good at this,” Jaime says.

  Longwei eyes the hidden passage. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Only if you wake them up,” I reply with a smile.

  The stairwell leads to a familiar hatch-wheeled door. Two spins are all it takes to bring us face to face with Babel’s finest. Body after body, lining the walls like toy soldiers waiting to be activated. Jaime strides forward. I can see his fists are clenched.

  “More soldiers,” he says. “They’ve got an army down here.”

  Longwei reaches up to touch the glass front. “It’s like the terra-cotta army. I saw them when I was a child. I didn’t want to go too far into the room. I was afraid they might come to life.”

  “I don’t know about those,” I reply. “But these ones require a code for activation. Come on, let’s get back to the others. We needed to come down here and confirm this. We’ll take it back to Morning now. This is pretty good ammunition for our negotiations with the Imago.”