Deep Hydra

by Michael Formichelli

  A brief wave of dizziness overcame him. When it was gone Cylus’ eyes widened as a great feeling of emptiness drained the strength from him.

  Goddess, he was Zalor’s prisoner. He’d defied him. He’d stolen the treasury from him, Zalor Revenant, the Wolf who devoured baronies whole! What had he done?

  With a cry he fell to his knees, halting their progress.

  “Get up you pathetic human.” Bahu turned to him, a sneer on her face.

  “He’s going to kill me,” Cylus muttered. He was all alone. Meia was gone. Lina was dead—oh goddess—and he was alone now with the Big Bad Wolf.

  “Get up!” Bahu snapped.

  His body shuddered up to its feet, drawn by an unseen force.

  “Now, move it.”

  Bahu resumed her path through the sea of marble death around them. Goddess, how big was this room? It seemed to stretch on in all directions forever around them. It swallowed them, just as Zalor was going to do to him.

  “Is he always like this?” Bahu asked. “Speak.”

  “He was like this before your kind intervened. Why you took it away now is a mystery to me,” Sophi’s cool voice filled his ears.

  They arrived at a door in the far wall a moment later. It was the only interruption in the smooth, gray expanse.

  “We can’t have him acting foolishly now. The time for that has passed.” Bahu waved her hand before the door and it parted for her.

  “In fact,” Zalor said, rising from a three-meter wide desk, “your intervention is what caused this mess.”

  Bahu bowed her head and signaled for them to proceed ahead of her into Revenant’s office. The room was big, even for a baron, and bright white save for the black desk and a pedestal beside it with a crystal dome. Cylus trembled as he entered the room staring Zalor in the eyes. The baron that killed his entire family smiled in return.

  “Welcome Cylus, it’s been so long since you’ve been over. I believe you can call this one promise fulfilled.”

  “What?” His eyes darted around. They weren’t alone. Standing behind the desk on Zalor’s right was Helena. To his left stood a tall man with short, blond hair and blue eyes. His athletic frame filled the red and green suit he wore. On his lapels was the double-helix of the EpiGenome barony.

  To either side of the big man were the man and woman Cylus saw confront Sophi at the barony. They were dressed as the baron was, and bore such a close resemblance Cylus realized they must be his daughter and son. Both of them looked him up and down with amused expressions before nodding at Sophi.

  “When you were last here you promised to return with Praetor Graves. I guess one out of two isn’t bad for you. You know my cousin, Helena. This is Baron LeRoux. I believe you imprisoned his wife.” Zalor sat down and leaned back in his chair.

  Cylus gulped as the big man stared at him with cold eyes. Curiously, his children didn’t seem to care. They looked excited, like it was Latanus Feast Day and they were expecting a big haul.

  “Um, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  The baron’s children looked at each other in surprise.

  “I’m pretty sure that isn’t good enough, Cylus. Her trial is soon. You would have to either order her release or come up with some convincing evidence against her if it were to happen.” Zalor leaned forward over his desk, his palms pressed into those of his reflection. “If.”

  “If?” Cylus trembled.

  “What are you playing at, father?” Sophi cut in.

  Cylus almost sighed with relief.

  Zalor was slow to put his eyes on her. When he did they flared with hate.

  “You said ‘if.’ So, the trial is not going to happen.” She reached up and thrust back her hood. “And you already know that; so what is your game? Why are we here?”

  Zalor cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes, swallowing as if trying to wash a particularly bad taste from his mouth.

  “For that matter,” Sophi continued. “You’ve been consorting with VoQuana, Ms. Bahu and others, and you’ve been playing the Abyssians. I wouldn’t have done that in your position—”

  “I didn’t ask you!” he boomed and slammed his hands on the desk.

  “Never the less, it seems like a fatal error.” Sophi smiled.

  “That’s what you think.” Zalor recovered his composure. “I’ve found a way to neutralize the Abyssians.”

  “What?” Cylus gaped. It didn’t seem possible.

  Zalor turned his eyes on him. “Yes, it’s true, but merely neutralizing them isn’t enough. Soon the capital will come under attack from the Brogh.”

  “Will it?” Sophi’s eyes narrowed.

  “Indeed, that is what the official report will say. Cylus, you are about to be the Premier who presided over the biggest disaster in Confederate history. You will pay for it later, of course, and with the Abyssians neutralized the Confederation will have no choice but to turn to me.”

  “You’re insane,” Cylus said. “There’s no way you can beat Daedalus. None of us can.”

  “This coming from a man whose plans got his own fiancée killed?” Zalor laughed as pain and guilt washed through Cylus’ gut. “You brought this on yourself, make no mistake about that. Whatever you were thinking when you killed Olivaar and usurped the treasury, you have failed as you always must. Your games are at an end, as is my patience.”

  Zalor stood and moved to the center of the room. The walls around them flickered and displayed the full city of Ikuzlu as though they were positioned a kilometer over Xur’Quon Island.

  “Now witness as man outsmarts machine. Doctor Rega?”

  The pedestal beside the desk hummed. The crystal dome over it glowed as it projected the image of Doctor Suman Rega into the center of the room.

  “Yes, Baron?”

  Zalor looked Cylus dead in the eye. “Release the Siren!”

  Part III

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ikuzlu City, Kosfanter

  J2400:3326

  “You ready buddy?” Kae said over the comm. Nero’s new suit wasn’t exactly a full combat shell, but it had overlapping polymer plates and a flexible, air-tight mesh over his joints. It paid to have some protection when one was jumping out of a star ship at over 100 kilometers above the target.

  Nero scanned his UI. Internal pressure was good, heat shielding was at 100%. The carbine strapped to his back was showing full charge and ammo. He shifted his weight and felt the pistol Mitsugawa gave him on Taiumikai against his thigh. Reaching down he confirmed his thermal blade was where he left it, magnetized to the top of his boot.

  “Green to go,” he transmitted back.

  “Nero,” Sorina’s voice came over the comm. “Be careful.”

  “Be deadly,” Athame stated.

  “I will.” He moved to stand over the iris of the Katozi Slynn’s ventral hatch.

  “Countdown to drop,” Kae said. “Ten… nine… Eight…”

  The inner door hissed open. Nero looked up and saw Rune charge in and grab one of the handholds by the bulkhead door.

  “What are you doing here, kid?”

  “I want to see this. Dad’s talked about this stuff forever.” Rune smiled and gave him the thumbs-up. “Kick some ass, Nero. Damn this is cool!”

  He returned the gesture. “Will do, kid.”

  “Two… one… Go!”

  “Hang on to something.”

  The outer door irised open. Air burst forth from the bay, rushing out into the Kosfantari stratosphere and Rune’s coppery hair was whipped around his head.

  With a salute Nero hopped down into the vertical airlock and gravity did the rest.

  The ship shot away from him and with a roar the atmosphere seized him in a violent embrace. Vibrations coursed through his body as he plummeted. Above him the stars faded. Below him the bright blue of Kosfanter’s vast ocean grew brighter and brighter. His speed increased to the point where friction ignited the atmosphere and surround him in a sheaf of super-heated plasma.

  I can’t be
lieve you used to do this for a living, Prospero said.

  The altimeter in his UI raced toward zero in a blur.

  I can’t believe you won’t shut up about it. Didn’t you complain last time we did this?

  If the shoe fits…

  Yeah, keep talking. Maybe I’ll make a mistake or the suit’s aegis will fail and prove you right.

  Prospero fell silent.

  He laughed as the inferno blazed just an atom’s thickness away. Something in him sang that he was doing what he was meant to be doing; the rush of it brought a mad grin to his face.

  Deploying retro-jets, Prospero announced. I would complain that this suit is not up to the standards dictated by the Confederate Space Safety Council, but I wouldn’t want to distract you.

  Fuck off, Nero said.

  Vents in his suit opened and the growl of rockets joined the roar of the plasma sheath. His body felt abruptly heavy as gravity fought to pull him through his boots.

  The burning atmosphere around him faded away. The plates of his suit were glowing, but he was alive and uncooked.

  He looked down and saw the soap-bubble of the city’s aegis field rushing up at him.

  Tell me that thing’s not active, he thought. Before Prospero could respond he hit it—and passed through with a flash of discharging static electricity.

  Below him the lagoon at the heart of the city grew uncomfortably close. At its center, like the eye of a storm, was Xur’Quon Island and the Palace of the Just. He spread his arms and legs out and flopped forward onto his stomach, slowing his descent and giving him some control over his fall. The island loomed closer still, and he could make out the palace walls and buildings. Moments later he spotted the garden and an air limo flying low and fast away from the island.

  Don’t tell me we missed him, he thought. If Premier Keltan wasn’t home this was all for nothing.

  “I broke into the Palace computer when we got close enough to the planet to make it practical. He is not scheduled for any events today.”

  Nero crossed his mental fingers and checked his altimeter.

  Firing jets.

  The suit’s jets roared to life as he was enveloped by a cloud of exhaust vapor. Nero felt his suit press against him again. When they cut out he grabbed the carbine off his back and braced himself for impact. His boots struck the garden floor and he plunged forward. His artificial muscles absorbed some of the impact and rolled him into a somersault that sent the world spinning about him several times before he was able to pop up onto his feet and assume a firing position in a hedge.

  His eyes scanned the walls and the grounds around him.

  What the hell? Where is everyone? There should be guards. They should be shooting at him.

  Scanning… Nero, I am not detecting any guards or anyone else within range. The Palace walls are blocking my scan, but something is not right here. Be on your guard.

  He gritted his teeth and glanced up. His enhanced vision picked up the moving dot that was the Katozi Slynn on approach to the space port under a false IFF[4]. He hoped they would fare better. The fact that he wasn’t being swarmed with hostile fire put him on edge.

  He headed out of the bushes gun-first and moved to the large doors of the palace.

  Overriding, Prospero announced, and the heavy wooden panels swung aside.

  He gritted his teeth and his finger covered the trigger. He moved forward into the first room and almost slipped on the slick floor.

  Shit! There were three bodies, or what could be described as most of three bodies, in blue and white armor saturating the carpet with their blood.

  Prospero?

  Analyzing. A mixture of bullets and direct physical force killed these troops.

  So, we’re late to the party. Who the hell wants Keltan dead?

  He’s the Premier, who doesn’t want him dead? I’m linking to the Palace computer… Scanning the corridors… Detecting one life form approximately twenty meters from our position.

  On it. He raised his carbine and moved forward. His heart pounded, and the sense that he should be getting out of here instead of moving in deeper hammered at his resolve. Whatever killed those men had to be something powerful, deadly accurate, and tough enough to endure their return fire; something like an Abyssian.

  He stepped over five more bodies before making it to the room Prospero indicated in his UI. Its doors hung open, and he maneuvered around them to get a line of sight inside. With a deep breath he spun around the door and dropped into a crouch.

  A DS-109 combat drone knelt beside the crumpled form of a woman in a black uniform with raven hair. The 109’s sensor dots turned red and its turrets moved to cover him, but it didn’t fire.

  “Nero Graves, former Abyssian Praetor,” it said in a deep voice.

  He froze. “Um, have we met?”

  You’re not projecting our identity, are you? he asked Prospero.

  Do I look like a total idiot? Don’t answer that. I am detecting a variety of penetrating scans. It must be identifying us from bio-field recognition. Why it recognizes us, however, is another question.

  “Nero Graves is designated friendly. I am designated Iapetus, and this is Meia Starblood. My files indicate you are aligned with our objectives. I require assistance.”

  He blinked. “This just became the weirdest fucking day…”

  Focus, idiot. I don’t relish the thought of being torn apart by that thing’s weapons. It’s a tank, and as I said before, this suit isn’t exactly a combat shell.

  “What assistance do you require?”

  “I am unable to wake her. She was attacked by a VoQuana. As a Praetor you have experience with this. Please confirm.”

  He looked the pair of them over again. Something in his gut told him this wasn’t a trap. It was just too strange to not be taken at face value.

  Nero, don’t you dare—

  He put the carbine on his back and rose out of his crouch.

  Moron.

  He moved over and knelt down beside the hulking mass of the 109. It dwarfed him in both height and breadth.

  “She was attacked by a VoQuana? What about Premier Keltan?”

  “The Premier was forced to depart with Baroness Cronus and the VoQuana. Please assist Meia.”

  Meia? Nero, DS-109’s do not refer to their squadmates by first name, and certainly not without a rank.

  “I’m not too familiar with this kind of…” He trailed off. Something in his chest burned. He was about to ask Prospero what was wrong when he remembered the last time he felt this was in the ziggurat on Zov.

  A figure appeared next to the woman on the floor, and he gasped.

  Her long, black hair writhed around her narrow, tattoo-covered body. Large, green eyes pulsed with unearthly power as she reached down and touched the woman with her pale finger-tips. Then she looked up at him, nodded, and vanished.

  He blinked. That was Kiertah Rega, a woman he knew was dead.

  “Ugh,” Meia groaned, rolled onto her back, and opened her eyes. She looked confused at first, then kicked up into a crouch and pulled her gun on him.

  Nero reacted without thinking. His hand shot out and knocked the gun to the side. His other was almost at her throat when he heard the electric hiss of the 109’s turrets focusing on him.

  “Hurt her and die.”

  “Ah, I thought you said I was a friendly.” Carefully, he turned his head to keep both of them in his line of sight. Prospero, prep combat mode.

  Consider it done, and while I’m at it, I told you so.

  “Iapetus?” Meia looked him up and down.

  “Your helmet, please,” the 109—Iapetus—asked.

  He blinked, then understood and sent an impulse through the suit that flipped up the faceplate.

  Meia’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, it’s you. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for Premier Keltan. What’s this about us being on the same side?”

  She got to her feet and gave Iapetus a look before speaking. “I have
files from Cygni Lau Aragón that say you were investigating the murder of Mitsugawa Yoji by the nanoweapon known as Siren. Are you here to bring those responsible to justice?”

  He nodded as a shock of cold went through him. “You know Cygni?”

  “Not really, but we have a mutual acquaintance.” She licked her lips. “I’m going to stop Siren if it kills me. I’m guessing we can work together. First thing is first, though. They took Cylus.”

  “Who? The VoQuana?” His mind was racing. What was going on here?

  “Yes, but she was working for Baron Revenant.”

  “Revenant…” He nodded. “Fits with what Cygni said.”

  “You’re here with Cygni? She’s alive?”

  “No offense, but I don’t know you from atom—”

  Adam. It’s Adam you nimrod.

  “—Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad your drone—”

  “Iapetus,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m glad he’s not killing the fuck out of me right now, but I just got here. To say that things are confusing is an understatement.”

  “I’ll simplify it for you. We have to save Cylus and stop Siren before it kills everyone in the city.” She had a haunted look in her eye that stirred something within him.

  “That sounds like my plan, yeah. All right, I’ll play along for now. I’m here with evidence to bring Zalor Revenant down and connect him to Siren—”

  “—And the VoQuana,” she finished for him. “Only trouble is, Daedalus is in on it, too. I’ll know more once my asset finishes hacking the brain core. I’m guessing you’re not with Daedalus anymore because you’re out of uniform and not killing me, right?”

  “This really is the weirdest day of my life. We have one of those too.”

  I surmise this might be the same core Cygni Aragón spoke about. The odds of more than two Abyssians being defeated in such close temporal proximity are infinitesimal. If we had both… Prospero trailed off. Nero, be careful. This DS-109 is no ordinary model. Its AI appears to be quite advanced, and a military AI caring so much about a human is unusual in the extreme.

  “You have a brain core?” She cocked her head to the side.