by Lee Bond
“Ya’ll’re actin’ lahk you knew hunnerd percent this’d be successful.” The last time he’d burned this much ex-dee juice through his system, he’d been imprisoned, forced to move a truly incomprehensible weight across the Universe. Then, there’d been no joy, only a literally Titanic struggle to keep on doing as he was being commanded, just for a few more seconds, just until the Galaxyship built up enough momentum to coast at light speed for a few days.
He’d felt degraded. Demeaned. The joy that was his fire had been sullied by Antal’s unclean, littered mind.
But here? Now?
Griffin let out a good ol’ fashioned whoop’n’holler, wishing he had a cowboy hat to wave above his head.
This was joy. This was what he hungered for. Nothing but him and the cleanliness of the fire, burning away everything that was impure, leaving behind nothing but the pure. Joy so sweet and powerful it threatened to take his breath away blossomed in his chest, and as the fire flowed forth, a small, secret smile stole across his handsome face.
This was being alive.
No more than fifteen feet away, Chad’s Arcadian gewgaw was doing as the cyborg had claimed it could; it was taking the raw, unfettered, chaotic inferno storm that slammed incessantly into the unbreakable Cordon and was refining it, so while the very center of their intended breach was a swirling madness of volcanic fire, the perimeter was a calm, stable glint that grew brighter and brighter and wider and wider with every passing second. Jagged edged cracks of lava-esque lightning spread beyond the borders of the Arcadian whatsit, swiftly smothered by The Cordon’s repair systems only to be replaced half a heartbeat later.
Black impossibility was being replaced by ultra-bright golden promise.
Chad listened to the report coming from the machine he’d built. According to the device, they were more than sixty-five percent of the way there. Griffin’s effulgence showed no signs of stopping or slowing down or even weakening, but there had to be a limit to the lad’s constitution; there weren’t a being alive as could do their … signature move … for this long wi’out showing some signs o’ …
There.
A thin trickle o’ sweat pourin’ down the lad’s joyously upturned face, promptly followed by another.
“This hain’t good, now is it, boys?” This was asked of the many of him, the all of them, the neverChads and the maybeChads and the probablyChads. They all agreed, even the ones that thought this was a stupid idea that were goin’ to get them all kilt stone cold dead or trapped by that ridiculously uptight arsehat made from crystal and poor attitudes, Antal. “e is strong and ‘e’s young, aye, but fresh off the rack and belabored by all as comes wi’ such poor treatment as ‘e is, we is think ‘e’s not got long left in ‘im. Aye, the mind and heart an’ soul wants to do all it can, doesn’t it just, but as we is all know, ‘tis the flesh as we must keep our eyes peeled for, hey?”
“Ya’ll mahnd?” Griffin grunted under a sudden wave of exertion. The Cordon was fighting back and his cohort’s machine, now synched with the flood, was returning the favor by almost literally pulling more from him. “Ah fahnd it perilously weird when ya’ll talk atcherself when Ah ain’t doin’ nuthin’ atall, so Ah ‘spect y’c’n figure out just how mennal it is when Ah’m engaged in sumthin’ a wee bit important? If you and yores’re gonna chinwag over whutever it is ‘at’s gotcher selves in a uproar, could ya’ll jus’ head on further away? Ah got to con-concentrate.”
Chad thought that was a fine idea, but suspected when Griffin saw where they were goin’ to complete their chitchat, the lad would find more reason to find fault.
“Got to be done, though, hey?” Chad Sikkmund of Taryn jetted towards The Cordon, conscientiously making certain to be well beyond the perimeter of golden lightning crackling outwards from the rim of the machine. They were cert there’d be nowt in the way o’ permanent damage, but as they’d only just started feeling right again after their last Fire Vortex jaunt through purgatory, they were reluctant to get singed.
When they were close enough to The Cordon, they started beaming his thoughts as powerfully as they could manage, counting on the decay occurring not more than ten feet from where they was stood to assist in the matter.
***
“We is ‘ave a problem, squire.”
“Wot’s that?”
“Our lad … ‘e’s not up to it. Not on ‘is own.”
“Griffin is a Kin’kithal. He’s got the gumption.”
“Aye, he might at that, lad, but … he hain’t right. Not yet. We is not know much about a Kin’kithal physiology or where they is draw their power from, but we is know for cert two things. One, he is just finish movin’ a Galaxyship across space. I is not want to do that now nor never.”
“And t’other?”
“’e’s reelin’ from torture, squire. The worst sort. ‘e were dropped ‘ere by, as it turns out, our old friend, Huey. Now, the AI fella-me-lad, ‘e’s been tapped to become God o’ wotever comes from this madcap endeavor, hey, which says to uz that ‘e’s got more awareness o’ wot’s goin’ on, so if Griffin Jones were put ‘ere by ‘im, there were a proper reason. But, unfortunately for Griffin, fings hain’t turn out the way ‘e reckoned they would. ‘e thought Old ThunderCunt the Crystalline would be well pleased to see a grandkidlet. Not so.”
“Torture.”
“Aye. The kind as sprouts from thirty thousand years of madness and hunger for revenge. Griff do say ‘e’s fine, but the lad’s goin’ to turn hisself into speckles o’ ash. We is not want this.”
“Wot do you need from me?”
“We is not ‘ave the right to ask, but we is got a need that overrides all.”
“I is understand, Chad Sikkmund. No homecoming for me.”
“We is sorry, friend, more than you is know. When we is come back Outside, we promised to make all our Da did right again, but here, now, aye. No homecoming for you. Were it any other …”
“Hush now, Chad. I is always know this were the end, didn’t I just? Be sure to ask cranky Gwyleh Ronn about our adventurin’ ‘ere were come to this dismal pit. It were a laugh, I swear. Orl right, me old friend, time to do somethin’ wonderful for a change.”
***
“What?” Gwy, lulled into a minor stupor thanks to the ironically boring efforts at doing something unfathomably impossible, lurched into full consciousness once he realized exactly what he was seeing.
There, out there in the darkness, now silhouetted by the glaring white-hot skin of The Cordon, was Chadsuit. From the Suit’s motions, there were very few things that could be on the self-aware armor’s mind.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Gwy hollered into the comms. “You come back from there right now! I’m reading temperatures … oh. Oh, wow. I’m reading temperatures hotter than … hotter than the goddamn Universe has seen since creation, Chadsuit. That’s impossible! Physical laws have to be breaking down all over there! You’ll … you’ll die.”
“Tell me you hain’t goin’ sweet on me.” Chadsuit’s voice was full of wry humor. “I knew it were possible, of course, as I is one hell of a Suit, but I is fink there’s a bit of a … you know … problem wiv all this? I mean, Trinity Itself hain’t got nowt to say about cross-species love an’ all that, but I is fink It might take exception to an affair ‘tween a tellypaffic space bug and a fully aware iteration of Chad Sikkmund driving one of the most dangerous weapons in existence, hey? Reckon It might ‘ave a word or two, followed by some Glory missiles, to say?”
“You come back here right this instant, Suit, or so help me!” Gwy slapped claws on any control or instrument panel he could reach, but nothing happened. Chadsuit had temporarily locked him out.
“Look, Gwyleh Ronn, it is well simple.” Chadsuit had no worry in his voice, no sorrow, nor regret. Only ironclad determination and … sweetness. It were good to be doin’ summat noble, for the cause of friends as needed a way home once more. “Our boy on t’other side as is doin’ all this heavy liftin’, ‘e hain’t got eno
ugh in ‘im to get it done proper. ‘e’s willin’ t’try, because o’ course ‘e is, but … ‘e’ll burn to a crisp. For all we is know, Chad might get caught in the explosion. An’ that is summat no one wants.”
“But…” Gwy trailed off. On-screen, Chadsuit was now directly in front of the blazing heart of limitless fire. Ship sensors indicated that the temperature blowing in from across The Cordon was in excess now of fifteen trillion degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully it was a tight, narrow beam that returned relatively quickly to the base temperature of the Universe within three feet, but inside the area of effect, it was … hellish.
Beyond hellish. Even without access to Chadsuit’s damage response controls, Gwy’s eyes could easily pick out flakes and flinders of ultra-dense metals cracking and peeling, then drifting off into space.
Chadsuit was going to die.
“But…” Gwyleh Ronn trailed off once more.
“Don’t fret, my friend. We had a wonderful time together, did we not? Aye, not all of it were right an’ proper now we is look at our adventures wi’ clean eyes and fresh mind, but still and all, whilst we were doin’ it, it were well fun. And now I is been given a chance to do summat that might begin to swing that there judgement meter in the proper direction, hey? Chad and friend, they got a need to be here, on this side, wi’ you. The End is comin’, my oldest … my brother and like as not, you three will stand together, shoulder to shoulder, waitin’ for Darkness to Fall and the Light to Rise. But my time is now. Right here. Now, should you find yourself awake in some new body, on some strange world once the dust ‘as settled, keep your eyes peeled for the mush-mouthed foreigner who is got a gleam in ‘is eye. When ‘e asks if you’d like to take a stroll, you is best say yes, brother, because that will be the beginning of something fun.”
Gwy put a clawed hand on the monitor, heart aching. “Fare thee well, my brother.”
“Bye for now, Gwyleh Ronn. Keep your eyes peeled hey? You daren’t miss this.”
***
Chadsuit reached down inside himself, to the place where no artificial intelligence that was housed in a Suit ever dared, reached into himself and pulled forth the last shreds of essence that was who he were. It were like holding on to summat as were gossamer light, speckled and freckled with glowing bits and bobs that flowed along paths of sugar-spun translucence.
“So this is a soul, hey?” Chadsuit tapped it with a finger. It shimmered and chimed. “Not nearly as black as I were expectin’.”
All around him, nowt but seething heat. It were turnin’ the only skin ‘e’d ever known to flakey char, but now ‘e were holdin’ wot ‘e did, it weren’t so bad.
Weren’t so bad at all, hey? Death really did come to everyone, in the end.
“’tis just a matter o’ how you is spend those last moments, hey? Stand tall and proud and do what needs doin’, or turn t’other cheek and slink off inter darkness.” Chadsuit jetted forward, holding the echo of his soul in one hand; the other were held up against what little remained o’ ‘is ‘ead, shielding just enough to allow for forward motion. “We is spend enough time there. We is think it’s time for a little light, hey?”
And so saying, Chadsuit slammed his soul into The Cordon, right there in the sweet spot, the last thing on his mind the sincere hope that aye, when Darkness Fell so the Light could Rise, that he did indeed find his brother, Gwyleh Ronn.
Wouldn’t that just be a treat?
***
The Cordon growled. It sang, across the width and breadth of it’s domain. A racketing, clanking, soul-shivering scream that turned the blood of those who heard it to ice water in veins made of ice.
The whole Universe paused, even on planets too far away to hear anything. Every single man, woman and child, every Offworlder, every sentient sponge, every whispering tree. Paused, looked up to the heavens above their heads or below their feet, and wondered what was happening.
Something was happening. And for the rest of the day and into the night, everyone, everywhere, felt … troubled. Just a bit, but enough to leave them exhausted the next day.
***
Kith Antal looked up, bored of the sitrep he held in his hands.
A carillon sang through his Galaxyship. A broad smile crossed his crystalline face.
“One more after this, you whelp. One more, and I’m home.”
Antal crushed the sitrep into dust. “Home. I just can’t wait.”
***
Chad Sikkmund and Griffin Jones scooted through the temporary aperture burned through the skin of The Cordon, the former hooting like a maniac and the latter hoorawing like a rodeo clown. They fell through the hole into ‘space’ just in time to witness The Cordon heal itself; while they’d been engaging in something strictly impossible, whatever Node was responsible for this section of Cordon had been steadily repairing the damage caused by the initial blast from the MegaTunnel, and so as the two exhausted men floated there, the sight of eternal matte black material collapsing the damage done to it was … interesting. One second, fiery white scorch marks.
The next? Nothing. Nothing at all, as if it’d never been.
Except …
“Erm.” Chad pointed to a tiny patch right in the center of where they’d come through. “We is … we is not entirely certain that should look like that, hey?”
“Whatcha’ll talkin’ ‘bout…” Griffin, flush with excitement at his enormous success, looked to where Chad was pointing. “Aw, hell. That don’t look raght ay-tall.”
“Wot d’you reckon we is do?” Chad pointed again. “About that, I is mean.”
“Mm.” Griffin didn’t want to shrug, but he did anyways. “Ah’m all tapped out on the bold idear front, Chad. Sorta blew m’wad with the whole ‘burn a hole in The Cordon’ thang, y’unnerstand?”
“Oh aye, lad, I do indeed.” Chad felt a ship approaching directly behind them. That would be Gwyleh, the dour telepathic space bug. No doubt he’d get up to all kinds of fuss and bother over the damage to The Cordon before engaging in the more customary greetings and excited recapping of amazingly executed plans, but that were Gwyleh.
“Aw, hell, how bad can it really be? ‘s only, whut, ‘bout the size o’ mah hand?” Griffin jetted over, rapped knuckles on the … spot. Nothing passed through, though faint illumination flickered through the patch, as if seeing sunlight from a very deep spot in the ocean. “Antal cain’t do nuthin’ wi’ this teeny tiny little thang. Ah’m sure of it. Why, if’n he had the power t’do this sort o’ thang, ‘e’d’ve done it before now.”
“Mmm.” Chad shook their head. “We is think the opposite. Let’s wait and see wot Gwy has to say.”
***
“A hole.” Gwy shouted. “In the fucking Cordon.” He took a deep breath. “We burned a hole. In the Cordon. A piece of it. Is transparent.”
“Ya’ll’re gettin’ all riled up f’r no reason.” Griffin eyeballed the space bug just as readily as the space bug was eyeballin’ him.
“Really, Gwy, we is all fink it hain’t that bad.” Chad hoped he sounded convincing, because they sure as hell didn’t feel convincing. The more they thought on it, the more they became convinced they’d quite possibly fucked things up.
“’It isn’t all that bad’?” Gwyleh smacked the sides of his head, perhaps a little harder than intended. “We’re not going anywhere until we figure this out.” The Empator-Tyrene pointed at each man lounging scruffily on deck chairs in turn. “You. You aren’t teleporting out of here no matter what. If you do, I’ll hunt you down. And you, Griffin, the same goes for you. We need to make absolutely certain that the Node is going to repair this. However long it takes.”
“Now wait just a minute, squire …”
“Hold yer goldang horses, pal…”
“Chadsuit gave his life so you two asshats could escape Antal’s Galaxyship. You can spare a few days.”
Chad and Griffin exchanged glances.
“A few days.” They both said together, with Chad adding something at the end. �
��Then we is see we is not wrong, then we is get on with the more important business o’ huntin’ down Huey.”
“And Garth, while we’re at it. Owe that man an apology.” Griffin was firm on that. He didn’t know if reparations could be made, but goddamn, did he need to make th’ effort.
“Agreed.” Gwyleh nodded, then settled down to watch the monitors. “This won’t take long, and then we can get out of here.”
Old Man in The Sea
Aleksander Politoyov. Once the highest-ranking official at the top of the lumbering entity once known as Trinity’s Military Engine. Privy to things that’d make Historical Adjutants shy away and AIs wander off into the quantum substrate in search of safer ground. Kicked out. Disgraced. Stripped of his title, his command, his honor and some would argue, his very soul. Brought up on charges of criminal misconduct and disobedience, he’d gone to trial to argue his innocence, regardless of the mountain of evidence pointing to not just a single instance of negligence, of greed, but of a lifetime of using his authority to grow rich.
But he’d been innocent. Irrespective of the proof.
Well, he had been. Had the court not been of the kangaroo variety, had the people sitting there in judgment of him not been intent on ruthlessly scuttling the efforts of an Offworlder who’d been better at their jobs than they could’ve ever been, he would’ve been set free with a pat on the wrist, a thousand page apology letter and quite possibly a lucrative career going on the talk show circuit, making money discussing precisely what was wrong with the ‘Old Boy’s Network’ that suffused nearly every branch of TME.
Only … it didn’t matter. It’d never mattered.
At least not to Aleks.
The trial of the century, in which a noble man’s very nearly flawless career had not only been skewered but completely annihilated, destroying not just his life and his career, but the lives and careers of many soldiers who’d followed his lead down through the years … had been faked.