D'Arc

by Robert Repino

  Taalik focused on the two glowing orbs until they were all he could see, until they were the only source of light in the entire universe. The rain and the voices faded. Taalik knew then why the cat sought refuge here. This place was the cat’s Cold Trench. He met his companion here—the dog, the one who cut Orak with her blade. But the memories of her were all jumbled, out of order. Taalik saw all of it at once—their first meeting, their time spent hiding in this basement, their life on the farm. The cat’s unbound emotions surged through Taalik, a mixture of warm joy and sharp rage, like a claw sinking into his flesh forever, the wound never healing—but never killing him, either.

  The walls blacked out, leaving Taalik floating in a soundless void. The eyes pulled him along as if he were some celestial body caught in their orbit. They flew into space to join with the stars, forming a galaxy so thick it resembled a cloud. All around him the universe spun, with his body as its axis. The stars zipped past, each constellation representing a person who joined with the Queen. They became gods like her. And here, they obeyed her only true successor.

  He needed to find the right star, the one that would allow him to operate the human device—the weapon that masqueraded as an instrument of peace, as they all did.

  The galaxy came to a halt. One star stood out from the rest, pulsing, humming, growing brighter. Taalik lifted his claws. For a moment, he held the star aloft. The warmth traveled through his limbs into his gut, along his spine. He was not afraid. He controlled this place. The barriers in this maze could not hold him off forever. Taalik would endure. He would survive.

  My Egg, a voice said. First of Us.

  Taalik lay on his side, his mouth hanging open with a trickle of water leaking from it. All the euphoria from the dream world melted away. His gills fanned out to collect more air, but it was not enough to stave off the disorientation. The earth swayed like the floating island. He looked to the stars for some relief. Here, the points of light stayed fixed in place, as they were supposed to.

  Orak knelt beside him. What did you see?

  The link. I saw the link between all the Queen’s children. I could touch it. I was there.

  Nearby, the cat convulsed and vomited, choking for air.

  Their minds can hold many things, many worlds, Taalik said. But they cannot control it.

  Orak lifted him to his hind legs. Holding onto her for support, he shambled over to the keypad. He did not know exactly what to do next. He could only replay the memory of the star approaching from the constellation. Then blinding whiteness. Then he saw a human hand, with hairy knuckles and a white sleeve at the wrist. The index finger typed a sequence of numbers on the keypad.

  Taalik closed his eyes and mimicked the movement. The numbers disappeared from the screen, replaced by a simple phrase: “Welcome, Dr. Mehta.” Two logos appeared underneath, one for the Rama Corporation, the other for the United States Air Force.

  The doors grinded open. Bits of rust fell away from the threshold. A string of overhead lights switched on, extending all the way into a long tunnel that sloped deeper underground.

  You know how it works, Orak said.

  No. Not yet. I have to go back.

  Taalik told her to bring the cat to him. Sensing her approaching, the prisoner growled. Orak lifted him by the scruff of the neck and dropped him at Taalik’s feet.

  Wait here, he said. His companions are on their way. Do not let them in.

  You must rest.

  No. We keep going.

  She lifted a claw to touch him, then hesitated. If you die, I die, she said.

  I do not die.

  He steadied himself. The ground stayed still this time. He grabbed the cat’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “You will fight me,” Taalik said in English.

  The cat spit out the last of his bile. “Yes.”

  With his claw on the cat’s neck, Taalik marched the prisoner into the tunnel. Halfway in, he glanced at the entrance, where Orak stood watching him. After all this time, he would finally show her that this had been worth it. She suffered for a greater good. When the water swept over this place, drowning the wicked and shielding the righteous—perhaps then, at last, she would hear the Queen’s song.

  “Afraid she won’t be there when you come out?” the cat asked.

  Taalik squeezed his claw.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” the cat gasped. “You saw my thoughts. I saw yours.”

  The tunnel ended at another set of doors, halfway open. Inside, three long tables stood in horizontal rows. Each had five computers, connected to headsets and telephones. The screens switched on, displaying the Rama logo. Behind the tables stood a command station—a terminal with a computer, a microphone, and a stack of manuals. At the front of the room, a large screen glowed with a greenish-blue image of the earth. Three red dots floated in orbit, one over the American hemisphere, and the other two drifting above the North Pacific. Smaller panels blinked with numbers indicating angles, locations, and weather patterns.

  Tiny fans inside the machines clicked on to keep them cool. The humming felt familiar. Taalik could recall humans working at the stations, pointing to the screens, speaking into their headsets—an image not so much remembered as imprinted. But he would need more.

  Taalik pulled the cat toward the command center. The image of the globe appeared on screen, along with a window where the cat could enter instructions. This control room was engineered so the human commander could bypass the technicians and operate the system manually. Taalik would have to disable the workstations, establish control of the satellites, and then move them into position. This was no mere password, but a set of instructions that he needed to string together and execute.

  “You’re afraid,” the cat said.

  “So are you.”

  These land animals spoke too much. Taalik shoved the cat toward the computer, pressing his face close to the screen.

  “Look,” Taalik said. “Look and remember.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” the cat said. “You’re going to slaughter everyone because the Queen told you to.”

  Taalik spun him around. The cat’s eyelids hung low and listless. He would not give Taalik the honor of seeing him angry, and would rather die with this smug expression on his face, the only dignity his people were designed to have.

  “You can say no,” the cat said. “You can look her right in the eye and tell her, ‘No.’”

  “I cannot.”

  “I did.”

  The cat turned from him and rested one hand on the control panel. On-screen, the globe rotated as the satellites circled above, like flies over a carcass.

  “Take what you need from me, if you can,” the cat said. “But don’t tell me you have to obey. Don’t tell me you can’t say no.”

  Not even Orak could speak to him like this. She could never know how deep this creature had reached into his mind. Taalik would have to kill him quickly and make sure the floodwaters carried him away, washing everything clean.

  Standing behind the cat, Taalik placed his claws on the sides of the creature’s head. Nothing happened at first. Then the globe spun faster until it became a green blur. The shape extended beyond the monitor and engulfed the entire room. Taalik smelled fresh water, reeking with algae. He smelled pine trees. He smelled a storm coming.

  Taalik stood in a forest at dusk. The dying sunlight pierced the trees, creating the illusion of distant fires. He recognized this place—the land-crab lived here, as did the cat and his dog companion. The cat thought that he could hide in the forest. He built a labyrinth in his mind, hoping that the leaves and the dirt would mask his scent.

  “I will find you,” Taalik said. The branches rustled in response. By running away, the cat was only making this worse. His mind could collapse. Taalik needed to find him quickly, before they both became lost here.

  He emerged from
the trees into a clearing, where several moss-stained boulders sat at various positions. On top of one of them, the cat reclined like a fat human in a soft chair, watching the setting sun burn a hole in the horizon. The dog with the floppy ears sat beside him, holding his hand. More animals appeared. A trio of cats occupied a nearby boulder. Four others gathered around a campfire, exchanging jokes and laughing. A bobcat with ears the color of ink stood near the edge of the mountain slope, staring out with a pair of binoculars. Beside him was a smaller black cat with white fur on his feet and hands. All of them wore backpacks and rifles strapped to their shoulders. Some kind of military unit, relaxing after a long march. These were the cat’s comrades when he fought for the Queen. The cat once named Sebastian. Mort(e). Taalik choked it down. He did not want to think of the demon as having a name, but it was too late.

  Still more animals gathered. The mud-colored pit bull—the one from the riverbank—polished the barrel of a rifle. A pig sat with a raccoon and two cats. They played some game in the dirt, using their military pins as baubles that they moved around in a square. The pig won this round, and celebrated by snorting and clicking his hooves together.

  When Taalik extended his tentacles and opened his pincers, Mort(e) laughed. “You’re welcome here,” the cat said. He gestured to someone behind Taalik. Four humans emerged from the forest, the same family from the darkened room. Only here, they were older. The husband and wife had gray hair, and their children had grown into teenagers. Taalik recognized the boy, the one the humans called the Prophet. Instead of rotting away in a stretcher, here the boy grew strong, living a life denied to him in the real world.

  Taalik noticed more people. Near the dog named D’Arc, three pups playfully fought over her sword until she took it away, scolding them but smiling at their mischief nevertheless. They were her children, Taalik realized. And they did not belong in the world either. All the timelines of Mort(e)’s life intersected on this mountaintop, giving the dead a second chance.

  Taalik approached the boulder where Mort(e) sat with D’Arc. The dog’s children hid behind her, giggling and pointing at him. Mort(e) was serene, his face bathed in the orange light of the sunset.

  One of the pups tapped Mort(e) on his shoulder. “Papa. Who is that?”

  “A friend,” the cat said.

  The pup did not seem convinced. D’Arc, meanwhile, stared at Taalik, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. A strange warmth emanated from the cat, a wave of peace and contentment that Taalik had never known. This cat could conjure it and mold it, constructing entire worlds where he would be safe.

  “You cannot fight me,” Taalik said. In this joyful atmosphere, he felt obligated to whisper it.

  “No one’s fighting,” Mort(e) said. “The fighting’s done.”

  “Here it comes!” the bobcat shouted. Next to him, the black-and-white cat snatched away the binoculars to get a better view.

  At the horizon, a row of snowcapped mountains lifted from the earth, cutting the sun in half. But they were no mountains. A tidal wave approached, the great hand of Hymenoptera Unus sweeping across the land, purifying everything.

  “Papa, I see it!” one of the pups said. No one seemed afraid. Even Sheba let go of the sword and held Mort(e)’s hand.

  The earth rumbled. Patches of clouds darkened the sky. Seasons changed in mere seconds, the leaves turning orange and brown and then bursting from the trees in a gust of wind. A thunderstorm brewed in the south. To the north, a sudden snow flurry painted the trees white. The cat struggled to hold the illusion together. It was the only way he could undo all he had lost, all that had been taken from him. As the wave drowned them all, he would cling to this fake memory, these unlived lives. His hatred gave him the strength to hold on to all this love.

  The aching overwhelmed Taalik. He stumbled and fell, bracing himself with his claws. Like some hatchling, he searched for others like him. He needed Orak to wrap her tentacles around his. These strangers did not even acknowledge his distress. They kept their gaze fixed on the wall of water approaching as if it would bring salvation, the answers to everything.

  It was happening—he was lost in this cat’s polluted mind. Taalik spoke in his own language, begging the Queen to save him. She did not answer. Please, he said. Please.

  With the last of his strength, he sprang to his feet and grabbed the cat by the shoulders. No one, not even the dog beside him, seemed to care. Taalik would fulfill the Queen’s wishes. He would take what he needed from this mammal before the cat slumped over dead. All of the emotions swirled inside them both. Anger, grief, love, joy. Their memories intertwined until they saw through each other’s eyes.

  “Who will join you at this place?” the cat said. And yet his mouth did not move. He no longer needed to speak for Taalik to hear.

  The wave crested the hill in a great explosion, sending a geyser into the sky before crashing down on them, shutting out the last of the dying light.

  CHAPTER 27

  The Destroyer of Worlds

  D’Arc followed the river upstream until her pace slowed to a limp, and her legs felt ready to give out. The rifle strap dug a welt into her chest, and her tongue flapped about as she panted. In the dead of night, she checked the map and pinpointed her location at a bend in the river, south of the bunker. Realizing that she would have to swim across, she regretted not bringing some kind of waterproof case for the firearms. On the bright side, if the wolves were tracking her, they would lose her scent once she entered the water.

  D’Arc put the rifle on her shoulder and held the handgun in her mouth. She could not bring herself to simply jump in, and thus suffered the agony of stepping into the frigid stream, one foot at a time. She bit so hard on the barrel that her teeth moved slightly in their sockets. D’Arc thought of the Old Man hammering shingles on the roof. She thought of the long walks with the herd. She thought of Falkirk. She thought of days to come, on a ship bound for new worlds. None of it made her any warmer, but it kept her from breaking her teeth on the gun.

  On the other side, D’Arc pulled herself ashore and ran faster, mainly to get her blood flowing again. On three separate occasions, she thought she smelled animals approaching. She took cover behind a tree and scanned the area with her nightscope. Each time, she waited until she could count to ten without hearing anything, only the crickets.

  D’Arc made it to the highway ramp shortly before sunrise. Her legs shook. She dry heaved a few times before sipping some water. According to the map, the concrete road cutting through the forest led to an abandoned human settlement, where the Rama Corporation sat at the edge of a forest.

  D’Arc took the main road into the town. Hiding behind the rusted hulk of a truck, she scoped out the front of the building. Nothing moved in the courtyard, and the interior appeared empty. D’Arc considered charging through the open area, past the fountain and toward the bunker. But this would leave her exposed, so she decided to use the forest for cover.

  As she crept through the woods, the wet leaves and branches chilled her bare toes. She hopped over a tiny trickle of a creek, which formed a divot along the forest floor. For the last few feet before entering the property, D’Arc crawled on her belly, rifle in hand, until she could see the grassy lawn, the office building, and the concrete dome of the bunker.

  A few dead leaves skittered along the cement plaza. Through the sniper scope, she focused on the dome and caught something moving. She blinked, thinking her vision needed to adjust. But then she saw it again, like an imperfection on a photograph. On top of the bunker, she caught the outline of a Sarcops, crouching on its claws, its tentacles slithering. The creature faded out as its skin matched the color of the purple clouds behind it. Another fish-head appeared in front of the bunker before its skin mimicked the gray concrete. Still another slithered in the grass and turned green, leaving a depression on the lawn where it stood.

  They were on the lookout. D’Arc’s heart
pounded against the dirt. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she glanced around to see if any of the camouflaged monsters roamed the forest. Nothing stirred. She peered through the scope again to try to get a headcount. Taking out multiple targets from this distance was difficult enough. But these targets could move fast and change color.

  D’Arc detected a pattern in how the creatures revealed themselves. One appeared in the grass, one on top of the bunker, one beside it, one in front. The fish-head guarding the entrance materialized suddenly, and then, before it vanished, it stood on its hind legs and walked off. D’Arc figured it out—there were only two or three of them. Eventually, she determined that there was only one, changing positions in order to give the illusion of strength. She could tell from the severed tentacle who it was. Orak. The one who admired her sword.

  D’Arc took aim, but could not get a solid lock on the target. Getting closer would leave her out in the open. And if she missed, Orak could charge at her across the grass, invisible until it was too late. D’Arc would have to draw this creature out to get a better shot.

  Luckily, she had experience with this kind of hunt. And though these Sarcops were smarter than a wayward Alpha, D’Arc was willing to bet that they would give chase if the bait were tempting enough.

  Among the long shadows draped across the lawn, D’Arc emerged from the forest, holding her pistol at her hip. Orak remained still, leaving a faint outline against the bunker.

  D’Arc lifted the gun and fired. The report echoed off the glass building. A bullet sparked. Orak screeched. One of the rounds may have hit her, but D’Arc could not say for sure.

  Orak charged across the grass, kicking up clumps of sod. Her camouflage transitioned from gray to bright green. D’Arc spun on her heels and sprinted through the woods. Behind her, the creature plowed through the trees, ripping off chunks of bark. D’Arc dropped into the creek and followed the tiny valley as it curved to the right.