by J. N. Chaney
Focus, Awen! She shook her head and looked at Ezo. “Kane’s got a bomb on her line ten, maybe fifteen meters up. I think it’s on a countdown, maybe a remote switch. I can’t be sure.”
“Sir,” TO-96 said, “if the blast itself does not kill her, the fall will.”
“I got it, Ninety-Six.” Ezo placed a dusty hand on the bot’s arm.
“Wait,” Awen added. Something about Kane’s words bothered her. “I think there are more.”
“What do you mean, more?” Ezo asked.
“Kane just said that this is ‘just like the palace.’ There were three explosions in the mwadim’s palace, not one. So if I’m right, yes, the first blast will kill her. But the second and third blasts will kill us. We have to get out of this rotunda if we want to survive—as in, right now.”
Ezo swallowed and looked at her. “Awen, can you do something?”
Awen returned his gaze, unsure what he meant, at least at first. “Do something? No, I can only…” But then she understood what he meant. He means, “Can you kill him?”
“Awen,” Ezo pleaded. “Do something.” He reached for her hands.
But she pulled away. Can I kill Kane right now? In cold blood? But it isn’t cold blood. He’s threatening a woman’s life. Plus, he’s already killed scores of others on Oorajee and who knows where else. Was this her true self suddenly arguing in favor of murder? Awen resisted another lunge from Ezo’s hands. Then she grabbed her head. Can I do it? Can I stop the man’s body cold?
You can, yes.
Where was Magnus when she needed him? This was his domain—doing evil things to evil people. She wasn’t trained to kill other people, to end someone’s life. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t—that she wouldn’t. The visions of slaying Kane seeped into her mind’s eye again.
“Yes, Ezo,” she said, trembling. “I can.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, gripping her hands.
“You must let go of me,” she said.
Ezo jerked away. “I’m sorry, yes. Of course. Whatever you need.”
Awen closed her eyes. In an instant, she was in the central shaft, searching for Kane, but he was gone. She looked up in the Unity and saw the fleeting ripples of his presence as he left the chamber. Then she spotted two more explosive devices farther up Sootriman’s rope, attached at intervals.
“They hoisted him out,” she said. “I can’t, I—”
“Can’t what?” Ezo asked.
“I can’t kill him,” Awen said in defeat. “He’s too far away.” She expected Ezo to yell at her, to hit her body and rip her out of the Unity. But no blows came—no scolding, no dark words.
Instead, Ezo asked, “Kill him? I just want you to save her!”
Ezo had never asked her to kill Kane. That was all you, Awen. Ezo only wants his wife back safe and sound. She shuddered as the emotions washed over her, wave after wave. She’d almost put another life in danger, all because of an obsession with… With what?
“Can you save her?” Ezo shouted, enunciating each word mere centimeters from Awen’s face. The sound rippled out through the Unity like a clarion call on a winter’s morning.
“Yes,” Awen replied with tears streaming down her face.
What had possessed her with this growing obsession to kill, to murder—first Ezo, and then Kane? Kane. Images of his other face flashed in her mind’s eye. That thing had pulled on her soul. Perhaps it had tried to corrupt hers, too. She shuddered. How long had it been afflicting her, preying upon her more base instincts? Had it begun in the mwadim’s palace?
Awen looked up at the bombs and then down at Sootriman’s helpless body. “I can save her, and I will. I will save us all.”
Finding Sootriman’s body, she focused her attention on the air around the woman then the gravity pulling her downward. Awen had never attempted anything like this before, but without it, Sootriman was as good as dead. They all were.
Awen forced the air molecules to condense, bonding together in a bubble that surrounded the woman. At the same time, Awen tried to ease gravity’s pull. Sootriman let out a small scream as she felt herself become weightless; she was levitating inside of a translucent sphere twenty meters above the ground.
“Is anything happening?” Ezo asked.
“Not now,” Awen said between clenched teeth. She knew that any sudden move might shift her focus and inadvertently reverse Sootriman’s molecular structure. Confident that she could hold the woman, Awen forced the air molecules to condense further, an act that severed the rope.
“Uh, I’m free of the rope,” Sootriman said.
“Hold on, what’d you say?” Ezo yelled. He looked at TO-96. “What’d she say?”
“I believe she said she is free of the rope, sir.”
Awen began lowering Sootriman as carefully as she might lower a child in a basket from a burning building: swiftly, but not hastily. Inside the Unity, ripples of color emanated from Sootriman’s bubble and reverberated up the shaft. Awen glanced at the bombs and wondered how much time she had left.
“I’m descending,” Sootriman yelled. “I don’t know how, but I’m descending.”
“Just hang on,” Ezo replied. “We’ll get you out of there.” He looked at Awen. “We’re gonna get her out of there, right?”
“Ezo! Not now!” Awen was starting to lose her grip on Sootriman. The pressure was getting to her. She guessed she had another ten meters to go, but gravity was fighting hard to reclaim its hold. Awen exerted more energy, giving of her own soul to keep Sootriman aloft. But the effort required was more than she could bear, and the woman started to pick up speed. Sootriman yelped.
“Sootriman?” Ezo asked, running toward the rubble at the entrance.
Awen let out a gasp and fell to her hands and knees. She’d been forced from the Unity like a wet bar of soap squeezed from a clenched fist.
“Are you okay, Awen?” TO-96 asked.
“I’m fine, Ninety-Six,” she replied, panting. “Thank you.”
“Sootriman? My love?”
“I’m fine, Ezo,” she replied through the rubble. “I’m down.”
Ezo clapped his hands and gave a shout. “Ha! You did it!” He took Awen by the shoulders and hugged her.
“Not yet,” she countered. “Now we have to get her out. Then we make a run for it. Tell Sootriman to stand on the far side of the space and to get behind some cover.”
Ezo turned back to the entrance and shouted through the wall of stones. “I need you to make sure you’re at the back of the room, baby. Find something to hide behind. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that,” Sootriman replied. “There’s a lot of debris, but I can get there.”
“Good. Just be careful.”
“Tell her to do it quickly,” Awen added.
“And move quickly!”
Awen began crawling then, headed away from the entrance. “We need to move away.”
Ezo bent down to help her stand.
“Thanks,” she said. “We don’t have a moment to spare.”
TO-96 moved to Awen’s other side and put an arm under her. They crossed the rotunda’s floor and headed to the far side.
“Lay me down right there behind that pillar,” she instructed. They did so, easing her head to the dusty marble floor. “Okay, leave me. And get yourselves to cover.”
Ezo hesitated, looking like he was about to protest.
“Now!” she ordered.
The bot and Ezo dashed to the next pillar and took cover. Awen closed her eyes and was back in the Unity, moving into the shaft again. She saw Sootriman climbing over the ramp remains and heading to the far side. Then Awen focused on the pile of rubble that blocked the entrance to the rotunda. There was more debris than she’d realized, a fact that reinforced her assumption that she would not have the strength and endurance to move the rubble as a mass or the time to move the components individually. There was only one way—one impossible way—but she had to try.
From deep inside her spirit,
Awen summoned the remains of her energy and willed it forward into the blocks. It flowed from her ethereal body and moved into the stonework like a purple fluid as rich as the Ithelianan sky. It meandered between crevices, filling cracks and soaking into rough edges. Awen sensed the grain of the stones, noting temperature, composition, and consistency. It was as if she existed, in that moment, within the form of every block, stone, and pebble.
Awen sorted through the rubble and found the largest blocks, the ones that seemed most likely to prevent someone from passing through. She focused on these, her purple life force penetrating deep into the stone. Then she checked on Sootriman one more time to make sure she was hidden. Awen had never attempted anything like this before, and she didn’t want to harm the woman if she could help it. She didn’t want to harm any of them.
Awen took a long, deep breath and pushed with all of her might. This was not like leaning against a broken-down skiff, trying to get it to move, or even slamming up against a locked door, hoping it would budge. No, this was more like finding herself crouched in the center of a very tight space and attempting to stand—and attempting to expand her entire self-presence into immovable surroundings.
In this tight space, Awen felt as though she was buried in the center of a planet. She fought claustrophobia. She fought fear. She fought the sudden urge to retreat from the endeavor and cocoon herself away from everything—from this place and from Ezo and from TO-96. From Kane and So-Elku. From the Luma and the Republic. From Magnus. From her parents.
Here in the Unity of all things, Awen could go anywhere. She could leave her mortal body and traverse the universe—the multiverse, now that she knew it existed. She could be anywhere she wanted, free of the pain, the fatigue, the frustration. Awen wanted to hide and never be found.
She wanted to. So badly, she wanted to. But she chose against it. She chose to stay and finish what she’d started.
Awen felt as if she was resisting the gravity of a planet that bore down on her soul and threatened to pulverize her. But she wouldn’t allow it. Resisting it would cost her everything, maybe even kill her. But she would not be dust that day. She would be the incinerator. She would turn everything else to dust.
Awen’s body—both ethereal and mortal—shook. A violent sound filled her ears like the roar of a waterfall. She smelled earth and dust and smoke. The purple fluid ebbed and flowed around her, pulsing with light as she expanded within the epicenter of each block and large stone. In their molecular structure, Awen existed as a force, a presence of such power that not even atoms could deny her access to their bonds. There was a sudden silence.
And then Awen exploded. Power let loose from her soul like a clap of lightning. Every lick of purple fluid that was interwoven between molecules and atoms suddenly tore through the material world like incendiary fuel. The violent explosion began at a subatomic level, ripping at bonds, and ended in the rotunda as the blocks blew apart—not as smaller debris but as fine dust.
Awen was free, released from the confines that had threatened to crush her. She felt herself snap back to her corporal body and gasp. The air rushed into her lungs so deeply she thought they might burst. Thunder echoed off the rotunda walls but soon faded like the tinkling of wind chimes.
“Are you all right, Awen?” A firm hand touched her shoulder.
Awen opened her eyes, blinking. Fine purple mist danced all around TO-96’s head, glinting as if caught by sunlight through a morning window. At first, she thought she was still in the Unity, seeing the remains of her work rippling through the ether. But then she realized this dust was real, not a construct within the Unity. From what? Not the rocks I decimated. That dust would have been the fine gray of stone. Instead, this was… purple, like part of her soul.
Awen shuddered as a chill raced down her spine. She tried to get up, but she was spent. “Ninety-Six,” she said softly, “we need to get out of here. But I can’t. I don’t think I can move.”
“I will take care of you, Awen.” The bot leaned over and scooped her up in his arms.
She looked into his face and tried to smile. “Thank you, Ninety-Six,” Awen said, barely able to hear her own voice. She was as tired as she’d ever been. Then she looked back toward the entrance. Covered in a glowing mist of sparkling purple, Ezo and Sootriman emerged from the archway, running toward Awen and TO-96.
“We are ready to leave now,” TO-96 offered.
“Yes,” Awen whispered. “I think we are too.” She felt the bot turn toward an exit on the far side of the rotunda. She felt Ezo and Sootriman appear beside her and run alongside TO-96. And just before the deep darkness pulled her into oblivion, she felt the heat of a thousand suns erupt behind them and the presence of a black-eyed monster chase them into the void.
37
“Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, sir?” a small voice said as Magnus neared consciousness. Someone’s hot breath filled his ear. He wanted to see who’d spoken but couldn’t get his vision to cooperate.
“Piper?” Magnus asked. “Is that you?”
“Yes! Yes, it is, Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, sir!”
Piper, the strange little girl he had rescued from the Bull Wraith, was safe. He couldn’t believe it. There had been a firefight. At the village. The Jujari outnumbered them. And then… what?
Magnus tried to open his eyes, but the effort was painful. He squinted, which caused even more pain. He heard himself swear then remembered that a child was next to him. His voice was hoarse.
“Mama, he’s awake! Come quickly!”
Magnus reached a hand to his face. He felt gauze over his eyes and traced it around his head with his fingertips. He wasn’t wearing his helmet or his armor. Where is my MAR30? He panicked. Suddenly, he remembered the flash of light and the end of the world. An orbital strike. He’d survived a danger-close orbital strike!
Magnus tried to sit up, but his body constricted in pain. His lungs and throat were tight. He let out a loud moan.
“Don’t try to move by yourself, Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, sir. Mother will help.”
Footsteps padded across the floor as someone neared. “Lieutenant Magnus?”
Magnus instinctively turned his head toward the new voice even though he couldn’t see. Only a dim light flittered through the gauze and his closed eyelids. “Yes,” he replied then cleared his throat. He tried to sit up again.
“Easy, Lieutenant.” It was a woman’s voice, one he knew. “This is Valerie. I’m going to help you sit up. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” Magnus said, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Needing help just to sit up was… demeaning. But somehow, her asking him allowed him to retain some level of dignity. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Now, let’s see here,” she said, moving closer. Magnus could feel her warmth and smell her hair. The scent was like sinnowilt blossoms on a warm spring morning. “The good news is that doctor says everything is healing well.” She reached behind his head. Her fingers were thin but confident as if this wasn’t her first time attending to the sick.
“What’s the bad news?” Magnus asked.
“That you have me as a nurse.”
He could hear her smile.
“Oh, I’m not so sure that’s such a bad thing,” Magnus said. The words had no sooner left his mouth than a shooting pain charged up his spine and seared the base of his skull. He winced but managed to keep from letting out a childish yelp.
“Easy, easy,” she said, helping him sit up.
“Thank you,” he replied as she stuffed some pillows around his tender body.
“The doctor says we can remove the bandage over your eyes, but it will still be a few more days before the nanobots have finished their magic. You want to try to remove it?”
Magnus nodded. “Thanks.” He felt Valerie begin to unfasten something and then gently unspool the gauze. He tried to help by moving his head opposite her tugs. With every pass, he noticed more light behind his eyelids.
“It’s really a miracle you’re even alive, you know.”
“The orbital strike?” Magnus asked.
She nodded. “It struck just in front of your position.”
Magnus replayed the last moments in his mind. He’d been fighting the Jujari four to one—maybe five to one. He couldn’t remember exactly. All he knew was that they were moving in on his fire team’s positions, and he was running out of options. His mind stretched to remember their names. Corporal Dutch had taken the rearmost position with Valerie and Piper. Private First Class Gilder and Haney took the left flank while Chief Warrant Officer Nolan, the navy pilot, took the right. Magnus was on point. He’d been leaning out to fire when everything went white.
“You weren’t hurt?” Magnus asked as the final gauze strip peeled away from his scabby eyes, yanking against his eyelids.
“No. I had a little angel with me.”
Magnus guessed she meant Piper, but he had no clue about what to infer tactically from the remark.
“You can try opening your eyes, Lieutenant, but if it hurts too bad, don’t force them.”
Magnus’s eyelids fluttered as he attempted to open them. They felt glued shut, like he’d slept all night with a bad cold and had them crust over.
“Hold on.” She sounded like she was rummaging through a drawer. She moved back to him, and he felt the heel of her hand press against his cheekbone. It was warm. “A few eye drops. This won’t hurt.”
Fluid filled the inside corner of his eyes and spread along the lashes and against his corneas. It was cool but didn’t hurt, just as she’d said.
“Try that.”
Magnus’s eyes flickered open. He saw only hazy light and generic shapes, but he could make out Valerie’s head and long flowing golden hair. He didn’t need to remind himself how stunning she was. He wished he could focus on her more clearly.
“Mr. Lieutenant Magnus, sir? Anything?” Piper asked.
“Piper,” Valerie said with a chiding tone. “No questions.”
“But, Mama!”
“Just shapes,” Magnus answered. “Everything’s pretty blurry, though.”