Nyxia Unleashed

by Scott Reintgen

  Feoria laughs. “Going back to the humans, Jackie?”

  Jacquelyn almost snorts. “It was your plan, not mine.”

  We’re all escorted back through the sanctuaries. Jacquelyn runs us through the unloading process. Our ship will be seventh in the lineup. She walks us through the basics of the tunnel, emphasizing the necessity for stealth. After that she describes our exit point, our route from the northern shoreline, and the coordinates of the launch bay reserved for the Sanctum. Only when we’ve recited the whole plan forward and backward does she release us.

  “Now go eat. Go rest. Be dressed to leave at a moment’s notice.”

  I should feel lighter, more at ease. The threat of Isadora has gone quiet. The current plan is far better than we could have ever hoped. Even the distant possibility of Anton already working behind the curtains in space should have us believing this can actually happen.

  But I’ve always had a hard time with hope. The word has a habit of slipping through my outstretched fingers. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sit back and breathe until we land on Earth.

  We take seats around a circular table. Speaker explains that our meal is fuel for the days to come. Everything we’ve had up to this point was made with taste in mind.

  “These might not taste as good,” he says. “But they were handpicked. There is food here that will steady your hands, focus your minds, increase your awareness. A soldier’s diet.”

  Jazzy asks, “Are y’all expecting a fight?”

  “In the end,” Speaker replies, “what we expect does not matter. What happens will.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a fight,” Jaime says. “Get a few shots in on Babel before we go.”

  Speaker frowns at that. “I would rather a quiet walk to a ready launch station. There are fights in our future. That much I can promise. It is so likely, in fact, that I would rather not wish more into existence.”

  Jaime shrugs before focusing on his plate. The rest of us are quiet. That calm-before-the-storm kind of feeling. Next to me, Morning actually looks a little nervous.

  “It’s a good plan,” I whisper to her.

  She nods. “It’s just the waiting. I hate waiting.”

  “You know, I was thinking, they mentioned the pods have room for two.” I throw her a playacted look of nervousness, biting my fingernails with exaggeration. “I was—I mean, if you’re not busy or whatever—I was wondering if maybe you’d launch into space with me.”

  She smirks. “We gonna go to the movies after?”

  “Of course. No popcorn, though. Too pricey around here.”

  “My parents always snuck stuff in,” she says.

  “Moms does that too.”

  She looks at me for a long second. “You think I’ll get to meet them?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, smiling wide. “Slow down, girl.”

  I laugh again when she smacks my shoulder.

  “This is just like the cold-hands thing,” she says, shaking her head. “Yeah. That’s right. I didn’t forget. First time you ever talked to me. Told me I had cold hands. Who does that?”

  I’m still smiling when Omar leans over.

  “I’m starting to think you two need a chaperone again.”

  Morning throws him an eyebrow. “These are your last days on an alien planet, Omar. Isn’t there someone else you would prefer spending them with than us?”

  I almost laugh when his eyes dart directly over to Parvin. He starts to blush.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Neither does she,” Morning replies. “But she should. Before we risk our lives and launch ourselves back into space. She should know how you feel.”

  Omar somehow turns a deeper shade of red as Morning stands.

  “Come on,” she says to me. “I want to go look at the ocean.”

  It’s easy to follow her outside, kick our feet up in the air, and pretend the world belongs to us. Even in the bright of day, we can make out the faintest traces of both moons in the sky.

  The truth has changed how I see them. Bright and beckoning has become dark and deadly. We’ve talked this whole time about forging alliances. One force being joined to a second. I have this deep, unspoken fear that our alliance might be more like the two moons colliding in the sky. Bright, brief, and the end of everything.

  So we steal what we can from what little time remains.

  Wind at our backs, sun on our faces, we lie there together; I forget the rest.

  We work our way back through the halls of the sanctuary, looking for the rest of the crew. Morning leads us toward the kitchens and we run smack into Isadora.

  I see Isadora’s jaw tighten before she takes a meaningful step back, holding the door open for us to pass through. But Morning answers by reaching out for the other half of the door and wedging it open with her own strength. “We’re good. Thanks.”

  Isadora just shakes her head. “You’re wasting your time with this.”

  “I don’t trust you,” Morning returns. “It’s that simple.”

  “We’re exactly the same,” Isadora says. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”

  Morning flinches at that accusation. “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Please,” Isadora says with sarcasm. “In every situation, you’ll work to keep this team safe. You’re going to fight like hell to get the group home, right? But if you had to choose between Emmett or us, which one would you choose?”

  Whatever ready comeback was sitting on Morning’s lips goes silent. She glances back at me, then at Isadora. “Well?” Isadora asks. “You’d choose him, wouldn’t you?”

  Morning nods. “Every time.”

  The truth has my heart skipping beats. Isadora just smiles.

  “If Roathy’s actually alive, I’m going to choose him over you every single time. Otherwise? I’ll do what I can to make this plan work. I’m no different than you—”

  A single bell tolls through the Sanctum, cutting off Isadora’s sentence. It rings its way through stone, shakes the halls, and gutters out. It takes two seconds to leave the rivalry in the hallway. Jacquelyn’s trained us to know the rendezvous point. Morning is careful to let Isadora walk ahead of us, but we make our way through the halls together all the same.

  The rest of the Genesis crew is waiting, but instead of leading us down to the escape route, Speaker has us moving up the building’s southern tower. Jacquelyn waits on the building’s roof. It’s not the tallest tower, but it offers a 360-degree view of the surrounding ocean. We stand in nervous formation. Jacquelyn folds her arms, counting off the beats with a tapping foot.

  Our group flinches as the sound of a whip cracks overhead. A static discharge sounds, followed by a thundering boom. The sky clears completely. The protective dome falls away. We all shield our eyes as the extra brightness floods down, reflecting harshly over the surface of the water. “We’re still protected,” Jacquelyn says. “I designed a secondary system to activate above the Sanctum. We felt it was important to witness this. For us and for you. Know your enemy.”

  A long minute passes. Jacquelyn eventually points south.

  “We’ve shown you who we are,” she says. “Now we’ll show you who Babel is.”

  It takes thirty seconds for the bombs to start falling.

  Great booms color the horizon with light. We watch as the First Ring goes up in flames. In every direction, explosions rake into the blue. Babel leaves nothing to chance. Sharper whines sound overhead. We all flinch, but Jacquelyn’s secondary system wards the dangers away. We watch the translucent layers catch a first and then a second and then a third missile. The explosions tongue skyward, ineffective.

  “Genocide. That was their plan in the end.” Jacquelyn’s whisper carries. “Do you see why the Imago kept them at a distance? They always feared this.”

>   Jaime’s muttering darkly, his fists clenched. All that rage that’s boiling inside him is threatening to surface again. I can see him pounding the frozen marine with the nyxian crowbar. Parvin stands beside Omar. He sets a heavy hand on her shoulder as she covers her mouth in horror. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen his size look gentle.

  Isadora grips the edge of the railing, a familiar desperation written across her features. Every fear we’ve had about Babel since day one has built to this moment.

  Hundreds of thousands of deaths. It would have happened that way if not for the Imago’s plans. Babel has nowhere left to hide now. The truth is an ugly thing.

  “Time to go,” Jacquelyn says. “The trap’s been set.”

  They lead us back through the sanctuaries. Our equipment is already packed neatly aboard our ship. We move with purpose through the halls. We’re not afraid as bombs drop on distant buildings, but confident. I can feel Babel’s end hanging in the air like a promise.

  Servants rush through the halls, running twenty ways, hands full of last-minute supplies. By every other measure, practice has resulted in perfection for the Imago.

  As we enter the gardens, we find the chosen Remnant arranged in columned lines according to rank and station. They wait in their patient formation by the loading docks as the pressurized escape route opens up. The first boat drops, and there’s not even a second of hesitation as the first crew of Imago file on board. Guards take up the defensive stations as the chosen passengers march belowdecks. Captains are barking orders from every direction.

  After the first ship vanishes, there’s a noticeable staggering. One military boat followed by a passenger ship followed by more soldiers. Jacquelyn shouts orders, pulling my attention to the nearest techie. “Make sure you disable every security measure and flush our radiation signatures. I want green lights for all ships all the way out to the coast. Last time we wasted oxygen and time—let’s not repeat that mistake, okay?”

  I watch as he wheels back to the control panel. Our Genesis crew waits impatiently. Only Isadora and Ida aren’t with us. The Daughters invited them, as a matter of custom, into their boat. They framed it as a tradition for more honored guests, but I’m guessing it was their way of defusing whatever situations might come up. We need Morning fully focused.

  A ship splashes into the water tank as another rotates through the hangar, waiting to be dropped. Jacquelyn continues sounding commands.

  “Double-check your pressurized suits,” she shouts. “No radio contact when we reach the ocean floor. Preserve your oxygen at all costs. Keep the ascent slow; follow the models in the readouts. We’ll move to Cadence Point for our surface location, off the northern coast. We have four separate breakaway packs. Remnant and Genesis ships will prioritize reaching the coast. Military boats will patrol the surrounding waters. Understand?”

  We give an answering shout of affirmation.

  “Next ship is Genesis crew,” Jacquelyn calls out. “Let’s load it up.”

  Pressurized suits are passed back through our ranks as the boat splashes into place. We only practiced putting them on once, so it’s still a slight struggle to pull the bulky suits over clothes and boots. The suit hangs loose until I find the button on the shoulder that compresses the lining. A second button pops helmets up from shoulders. There are a few buddy checks before everyone begins the boarding process.

  As the glass visor closes, a robotic voice runs through calibrations inside my helmet.

  “Vitals: normal. Depth: sea level. Pressure: normal. Establishing link to communications network.”

  Jacquelyn’s voice pipes through the comm. A few others sound, affirming they’re linked up. I echo the confirmation as Morning takes her place at the center of the ship.

  Back on the platform, we see Isadora and Ida huddling beside the Daughters. Feoria and Ashling stand as regally as a pair of queens ever have. I remember that—at least for Feoria—this is a death march.

  She will stay behind as her people reach across the universe.

  “Morning.” Jacquelyn’s voice. “Assign stations. Let’s get moving.”

  Morning nods in answer. She sends Omar to the back of the ship, with Longwei in reserve. It takes two seconds to fire up the massive engines. Katsu and Alex are placed on the hips for steering. I can feel the tremble of nyxia as they establish their link.

  “Parvin up front,” Morning commands. “Jazzy, be a second set of eyes, please. I want Jaime, Holly, Jacquelyn, and Noor on the defensive stations. Let’s drop in.”

  Morning takes her captain’s chair, and for a second all I can do is stare. Is she really benching me? The others are snapping into action, obeying her directives.

  A long stride brings me to her side. “What about me? You know I can help.”

  She locks eyes with me. “If I get hurt, who captains the ship?”

  I swallow my anger. “Me.”

  “You,” she says firmly. “So sit back and trust me.”

  I reach down and squeeze her shoulder, lowering my voice. “You’ve got this.”

  I cross to the back of the ship and take a seat between Omar’s and Holly’s stations. Jacquelyn roams the deck, inspecting our arrangement. There’s chatter across the nyxian link as the familiar dome stretches up, knitting overhead, sealing us in. One look is enough to see that these walls are thicker than normal, meant for deep-sea diving.

  Parvin throws a thumbs-up to confirm we’re fully cocooned.

  “Genesis, how do we stand?” Morning shouts.

  The answer bellows out of us, all instinct. “Shoulder to shoulder!”

  Morning releases the supports and we drop in.

  “All right,” Jacquelyn says through the comm. “Quarter power. Let us drift. I’ll direct you to the tunnels we take for our evac route. Nice and steady for now.”

  Morning echoes her command. Everyone’s quiet as the windows go dark and the natural overhead light is replaced by occasional ticks of red or green. The emergency lights mark our descent until the tunnel ends and we’re left in the black.

  “Take this right tunnel for another five hundred meters,” Jacquelyn orders.

  I watch our progress patiently, feeling helpless. Morning’s the right person for the commander’s chair, but I still wish I could do something. Parvin relays the radar reading as Katsu and Alex guide us down a maintenance shaft. It’s tight, so the going is slow and steady. When the tunnel finally widens out, Jacquelyn orders us to dive.

  “Parvin, check your third screen. You can double down with an exo layer on our outer shell. It will keep us from feeling like we’re being stomped by ironhides.”

  Metal groans as we dive deeper and deeper.

  “Everyone,” Jacquelyn calls. “If you haven’t popped helmets, do it now.”

  The boat plunges into deeper dark. Our helmet readouts tick from one atmosphere to two. Morning notices the indicator. “What’s that mean?” she asks.

  “It means we’re really deep and we’re in trouble if anything goes wrong,” Jacquelyn answers.

  Our course straightens out, though, and the numbers hover in equilibrium. When we’ve found the final evacuation tunnel, Jacquelyn has us lock onto the ships ahead and behind us.

  “No radio communication between ships,” she explains. “We don’t want signatures being logged as we head to the surface. I’m going to walk you back through this, okay? There are four queens and four guards. We’re one of the queens. It’s our job to get to shore. Understand? No matter what happens, the rendezvous point is where we’re going.

  “This ship is my invention. Dual-engine, with sound-speed capability when she peaks. She’s the fastest thing on this planet, and nothing even comes close. So as long as we can get up to full speed, we’re going to be where we want to be before Babel’s radar even picks up our signal.”

  Parvin pipes in. “B
ut we’re not expecting contact, are we?”

  “No,” Jacquelyn says simply. “Right now there are thousands of people going through hundreds of underground tunnels. Babel’s about to come down and start sifting through the wreckage. As soon as they figure out there aren’t any bodies, they’ll run their scans again and see that we’ve already moved all over the map. Good luck targeting us before we launch.”

  There’s another groan followed by another pop. Our crew’s attention flickers to the radar, but nothing is flashing red. Darkness dominates the windows. The readouts look clean. A ship ahead, a ship behind. “How do you know the lotteries will work?” Morning asks.

  Jacquelyn is quiet for a second. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Sixty people survive,” Morning says. “Out of what? Fifty thousand on each ring?”

  “We know the odds,” Jacquelyn replies stiffly.

  “I just mean…the slings. They chose their own way. What if others do the same?”

  Jacquelyn’s voice is quiet but steady. “Feoria chose to believe the best about their people. Every generation that’s ever existed has understood: the fate of the society comes before personal interests. Ultimately, that’s why I chose to become one of them. When Feoria decided this was the best way forward, it became the best way forward for all of us. That’s how things in our world work. Those we leave behind? They’ll make the sacrifice for the good of all. It helps to have a queen willing to do the same.”

  I glance over. Her suit mask frames the determined look on her face. I haven’t given the other stations much thought. If it was humanity, there’s no way their plan would work. People would be eating each other alive outside the stations the second they didn’t win a ticket out.

  “We should conserve oxygen and resources,” Jacquelyn announces. “Let’s keep things quiet until we’re through the tunnel, at least.”

  Her words leave us in the quiet, in the dark, to our thoughts. Hours of silence stretch out. Morning glances back a few times, winking once or twice. I have to remind myself to breathe.

  I try to imagine the surface. The rings that the Imago have called home for generations, all destroyed. Babel ships sweeping out of the sky. The marines from the bases activating. I can picture Kit thinking it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen. I have to swallow back the guilt that tries to edge up my throat then. Kit and his dad and his mom.