Nexus

by Sasha Alsberg

  Nor walked to the front of the desk, her body passing through the holographic orb that represented Arcardius. Just past it, at the edge of the galaxy, was the Void.

  A place without any light. Not a single star shining. Not a single planet or satellite to break through the blackness of it all. Soon, it would be torn open, and the people who truly held her heart would come through, to live safely and prosperously under her rule.

  Some nights, Nor feared her plan wouldn’t work. That she’d never see Exonia; that Nexus would fail to break open the doorway that kept Nor from her true home.

  But that wasn’t an option. Nexus would be finished soon, and as long as Valen held on, his exhaustion carefully monitored, his mind occasionally given time to rest from the compulsion...then all would be well.

  “It’s beautiful,” Nor said, trailing her fingers through the dark expanse that was the Void. An entrance to another world. In her mind, she saw the future, the sky opening wide. She saw not one galaxy, but two, bowing to her command.

  It would be the greatest achievement Mirabel had ever witnessed. Nor was sure that the story of her reign—the creation of the Nexus satellite, the complete command of every planet in Mirabel—would be written down in the archives. Songs would be composed about it, paintings created in reverence.

  “I can taste it,” Nor murmured, closing her eyes. “I can taste the glory, not only of Mirabel, but of Exonia.”

  Across the room, Darai cleared his throat. “Majesty. While it is good to see you leaning toward the positive... I implore you. We must make a decision about Arachnid.”

  Despite his words, Nor lingered for a moment longer in her vision of the future. It was her driving force. Her passion, to continue in her mother’s footsteps.

  Then she felt Zahn touch her hand, trying to draw her attention back.

  If anyone else had done that, they would have found themselves without hands for such an impertinence. But not Zahn. He was different in so many ways. He helped smooth her sharp edges, helped her to become the embodiment of strength and softness, easily able to work between the two in harmony.

  Nor took a deep breath.

  “Arachnid wishes to thwart our plans to reach Exonia,” she said, this time allowing herself to lean deeper into Zahn’s touch. His warmth mingled with hers, eliciting a sigh of relief.

  “That’s impossible. No one else knows of the compulsion,” Zahn insisted.

  “But it isn’t,” Darai replied grimly. “I feared this would happen—have feared it since the day your mother ran off to this planet. General Cortas knew. He found some way to resist her power.”

  “He’s dead,” Nor said flatly.

  “But it’s possible he shared the information with someone else,” Darai told her gently. “His body was never found, after all.”

  “His wounds were fatal,” she snapped. “Valen gave me his word.”

  Darai inclined his head. “I have no doubt that his aim was true, Majesty. Nevertheless, if he somehow made it off-planet before he died... Perhaps he managed to send a message.”

  “Then we will send Arachnid a message of our own.”

  “Nor,” Zahn started, his voice pleading. “Not another speech? There have been a great many deaths since your reign began. The Unaffecteds are revolting. Rising up. Just imagine, if there were a band of them on this very planet, following the orders of Arachnid, in hopes that you would respond with a speech the moment his video overtook the feeds... They could be just waiting to attack.”

  “I am surrounded by believers,” Nor said, though Zahn’s words rattled her very core. “Any of them would lay down their lives to see my plan succeed.” She reached out to cup his cheek. “But you need not fear, my love. Arachnid needs a demonstration of our power that’s far grander than any speech I could give.”

  Nor turned back to the map, still illuminating the large office. She could practically feel the heat thrumming through her veins as she studied the projection of Sora and imagined what was soon to come.

  For on Cyprian’s old desk, beside the holoscreen, was a scanner keyed to Arcardius’s leader, kept covered by a sheet of impenetrable varillium so that it was not engaged accidentally. Nor slid the covering open, placing her palm across the scanner to activate it. She typed in the access codes the late general’s team had given her, her body almost buzzing with delight as she entered the coordinates for Sora.

  “We’ll see how the spider survives this,” Nor said as she typed in the final code to access the top secret arsenal carefully hidden on Arcardius. Every capital planet had one—a massive array of nuclear weapons that were created toward the end of the Cataclysm, ready to be sent out across the stars should the threat of another war ever resurface.

  Somewhere across Arcardius, one of those enormous missiles would respond, angling toward Sora, ready to blast it from the sky.

  “A test fire of sorts?” Darai asked from across the office.

  Nor nodded. “The moon is small enough that just one missile should be able to handle it.”

  A triumphant smile was just broadening across her rouged lips when a beep sounded from the scanner. Nor blinked down at it as two words suddenly appeared, glowing red.

  ACCESS DENIED

  “That can’t be,” she said. Zahn and Darai joined her on either side, looking down at the screen with twin frowns on their faces.

  Nor typed in the code again.

  But the same message flashed back at her.

  “The code must be wrong,” Zahn said, reaching up to access the com behind his ear. “Perhaps we already have some Unaffecteds beneath our noses.”

  “They’re loyal,” Nor argued, shaking her head, her crown suddenly too heavy. “Everyone on this estate is being compelled. Valen is certain of it.”

  Zahn mumbled something into his com. Moments later, the doors to the office opened as a team of tech droids and their analysts arrived, shuffling inside with portable holoscreens clutched in their arms. Nor stood aside, watching as they tried to override the system, to no avail. The same response came up every time, that hideous message in bold, bloody red.

  “What’s the problem?” Nor demanded. She was pacing now, the long train of her gown tangling beneath her spiked heels. The head analyst stepped forward, a beautiful woman from off-planet, her orange eyes downcast as she studied the curved screen in her hands. “Well?” Nor snarled. “Speak!”

  The analyst looked up, terror written across her face. Her Adhiran accent made her voice sound calmer than the words should have. “I’m so sorry, Majesty. But it seems...it seems there was a fail-safe set in place.”

  “What fail-safe?” Darai asked, stepping up beside Nor.

  The office suddenly felt too stuffy, as if too many warm bodies were packed inside at once. The analyst blinked slowly, seemingly trying to decide what to say. “It seems that when General Cortas died, this fail-safe was activated.”

  “Speak plainly,” Nor growled, her patience growing thinner by the second. “Explain what that means.”

  “It sickens me to say this, Majesty,” the analyst began, “and I beg that you please take no offense at my words, for the fault is not mine.”

  “Go on,” Zahn encouraged gently. The analyst nodded, likely reassured by the calmness of his voice. Zahn was the only one holding it together right now, still steady and true as the day continued to fall apart around them, and Nor felt another wave of gratitude for his support.

  The analyst turned her holoscreen, so that Nor could see numbers running across it, symbols and shapes she didn’t know how to decipher. Beside the analyst, a small red tech droid beeped sadly, its clawed hand drawing away from the screen on Nor’s desk to retract back into its torso. Apparently even the droid had given up.

  Nor took a deep breath and faced the analyst as the woman tried to explain.

  “According to the system...it says
here that you, Majesty, are technically not the General of Arcardius. I’m ashamed to admit that we had no reason to know this before now, but in any case, when you tried to access the nuclear arsenal, the fail-safe responded, revealing itself for the first time. So I’m afraid that, even with the correct codes, you will not be able to activate those weapons.”

  “Cyprian Cortas is dead,” Nor snapped. Her hands were curled into fists now, so tight that her nails nearly broke through the skin. “He was executed when I arrived here, and I took his place. Therefore, I am the rightful General of Arcardius. I am queen of this entire galaxy.”

  The analyst swallowed hard, taking a subtle step backward. “I’m afraid the fail-safe does not see reason. It only understands numbers and coding. And the coding, Majesty, has told the fail-safe that though you are my queen, and everyone else’s in this room, long may you reign...”

  Polished words.

  Words spoken out of fear, even through the compulsion.

  Nor’s teeth ground together as the analyst finished her thought. “Therefore, you will not have access to the arsenal until you are the rightful General of Arcardius—until the system deems it so.”

  The room was so silent, Nor swore the others could hear her heartbeat pounding from within her chest. She stared at the screen on her desk, wishing she could compel it to obey her. But her compulsion, and Valen’s, only worked on the living.

  “The other planets,” Zahn suggested suddenly, his voice still level despite the unease spreading like a poison through the office. “We can use their weapons instead. We have the codes for them, as well.”

  The analyst’s words were barely a whisper when she spoke, her little droid sliding closer to her side. “I thought so, too, but the fail-safe’s reach stretches across all of Mirabel, Majesty. I’m so sorry. We didn’t know... We didn’t anticipate...”

  Ice had encased Nor’s body. She had killed all the leaders, killed them with one swift slice of her blade so that they would not stand in her way. And now, a month after taking over, it was as if their ghosts had suddenly come back to haunt her.

  Or perhaps they’d been lurking on the fringes this entire time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “There is a ceremony of sorts,” the woman said tentatively. “When a leader passes on, a new heir is chosen. Not just by words or oath, but by the system, as well.” She looked down at the screen in her hands again, its dim light reflecting in her orange eyes. “But in the event that the other leaders fall without an heir, and only one remains, that single remaining leader gains total control of the weapons network across the entire Unified Systems.”

  “Then we must do that now,” Darai said, nodding his head as he came around to the front of the desk. “We will enter Nor into the system here as the sole leader of Mirabel, so that she can access the arsenals.”

  The analyst’s knees began to shake. “That’s simply not possible, sir.” She looked to Nor. “Unfortunately, according to the system and the fail-safe... Another leader has already been chosen.”

  All eyes fell upon her as Nor gripped the desk for support. It couldn’t be true.

  She’d made sure everyone was dead.

  Nor’s body felt strangely light, while her head felt too heavy on her shoulders. “Who?” she asked softly, menacingly. “Who is it? We will find them and kill them.”

  “That’s the other problem,” the analyst said with a grimace. “The system’s firewalls, its back-door fail-safes...they’re all heavily protecting the identity of this chosen leader. And merely killing this person won’t give you access to the weapons. It would be too easy for leadership to fall into enemy hands if that was the case. The new leader has to pass on the power, to freely hand it over and enter their chosen heir into the system.”

  “THEN BREAK THROUGH THE SYSTEM!” Nor screamed as fury roared within her blood. She hadn’t come all this way just to be stopped by some technological glitch.

  She picked up a glass bauble from the desk and launched it across the room, where it exploded against the wall in a shower of gleaming shards that looked like falling stars.

  At a quick nod from Zahn, the analyst ran from the office, her droid trailing in her wake. The room turned to chaos, Darai commanding orders, the other workers and droids scrambling to obey. But all Nor could hear was the blood roaring in her ears, a heavy thrum as it pulsed hotly through her body.

  She was queen. The only leader left in Mirabel, all others be damned.

  Nor stormed out of the office, Zahn and Darai hot on her heels, and she did not stop until she reached the front doors of the estate and stepped out into the cold night. She stared up at the stars, gazing out across the sky, as if she could see this so-called other leader hiding in the shadows.

  For when she discovered who it was...

  Not even the Godstars would save them from her wrath.

  CHAPTER 8

  ANDI

  Her hands were covered in blood.

  An ancient obsidinite dagger, the color as dark as pitch, lay forgotten on the metal floor of the Marauder. The blade had broken in two during the fight. Unsurprising, for Androma had fought hard in the skirmish. The weapon itself was old and somewhat dull, but the wounds it had inflicted upon her fallen enemies were not.

  It’s over, she told herself. You slayed them all. You won.

  And yet, as Andi stood on trembling legs, surveying the cargo bay of the Marauder, the feeling in her bones was not one of victory.

  Rather, it was one of defeat.

  Loss was a crippling thing, a beast that did its very best to conquer even the strongest of souls. With each life she took, a voice in the back of Andi’s mind whispered the same question.

  How can one truly be an enemy, if they’re being controlled?

  Andi staggered forward, a pinch in her side alerting her to the presence of a wound. There was too much blood on her to discover the source, too much exhaustion for her to care.

  They’d come for her, knowing she’d survived the attack on Arcardius weeks before. The fight had lasted mere minutes, and the bodies were now scattered all around the cargo bay, still fresh, still bleeding out. All of them wore the sleek, dark uniforms of Xen Ptera. The queen’s sigil, shining gold on their armored chests, glared at her from all around.

  She’d won this time, but more would come.

  More always came.

  Andi growled a curse as she saw movement in the corner, behind the rubble of a smashed crate. A gloved hand, stretching out from the shadows. One of the soldiers, mask still in place, was struggling to hold on to life.

  She thought she’d finished them all off.

  Andi stumbled forward, and the room wobbled, going in and out of focus. She blinked, suddenly realizing that much of the blood must be from her own wound, and pressed onward, stepping over fallen soldiers until she reached the only other living soul on this ship.

  “Please,” the voice begged, the exterior com of the soldier’s helmet crackling. Half of it was bashed in, likely from one of Andi’s hits. “Please.”

  The sound of that voice...

  Something tugged at Andi from within.

  The soldier’s hand lifted, reaching for the helmet, trembling as it moved upward.

  Andi leaned forward and removed the helmet herself, wondering why she was doing it, even as the soldier’s face was revealed.

  “Help me,” the soldier gasped, this time not through a com, but through bloodied lips.

  A young woman with eyes the color of a clear sky. Her skin was an ashen gray instead of its usual ocean blue, and pain filled her eyes as she stared up at Andi, breathing her last few breaths.

  “Lira,” Andi whispered. “What are you doing here?” The shock faded, giving way to horror as she stared at Lira’s rapidly paling face. Andi gathered her friend’s fallen body into her arms, choking on a sob. “I’m so sor
ry, Lira. I can stop this. I can fix you.”

  But the blood was pooling out of Lira’s lips now.

  “Come closer,” Lira whispered. Her chest rattled, heaved, as she sucked in a breath.

  Andi bent down, agony shredding her heart. How had she done this? How had she not known her best friend was inside that uniform?

  She felt Lira’s wet lips touch her cheek as she spoke again. “You killed me. You killed us all.”

  Then Lira began to laugh. A sickening, howling laugh that struck Andi deep, rattling her bones. She skittered backward, away from her friend’s dying body. Her head spun as she turned, realizing Lira’s laughter had multiplied.

  The fallen Xen Pterran soldiers were gone.

  In their place, it was her crew who lay dying.

  Gilly, with braids the color of fire.

  Breck, her beautiful dark skin now coated with blood.

  Lira, those sky-blue eyes growing empty and cold.

  All of them, barely alive and bleeding out.

  “No,” Andi said, nearly choking on the word. “No, this can’t be happening.”

  She lifted her hand, realizing she was gripping the dagger again. It was wet with their blood, and yet she didn’t remember any of the hideous act. Andi’s body felt a million miles away, her mind screaming at her to make sense of the scene. To change it.

  “Very good, Androma,” a woman’s voice said from behind her. “Now bow to me, before you become like the rest of them.”

  Andi turned slowly, her heart filling with dread. For she knew that voice, and the monster who possessed it.

  Queen Nor Solis, the leader of the Olen System, stood in the cargo bay of the Marauder. Valen hovered beside her, both of them smiling like demons released from the mouth of hell.

  “I will never bow to you,” Andi seethed.

  Then her crew members stood, dead no more. They moved to flank the queen, expressions of adoration on each of their faces. And seeing her girls at Nor’s command, like a pack of smiling wolves...

  The sight brought Andi to her knees.