Eradicator

by Chris Fox

  Her smile fell away and her visage became terrible. Power radiated from her, raw divinity, that terrified any mortal who gazed upon it, even through a camera. They knew her power, and her terrible gaze. “Bring the heretics to the shores and utter these words. ‘I condemn this soul to the will of Necrotis. I offer it freely for the glory of my mistress, that my own soul remains safe.’ Every faithful must bring at least one heathen to the shores, and condemn them to the sea. Only then will you be spared the wrath of the unliving.”

  Necrotis killed the transmission, and did not wait for a reply. Instead she willed the Wrath to open a tear to the spirit realm, and crossed through immediately, even as worship surged into her from millions of eleph.

  The next leg of the journey, the final before the confrontation, was most expedient through the realm of the dead. It shortened the journey to a single day.

  During that day Necrotis used her time wisely, and explored a new technology with which she was unfamiliar. She completed the registration process for this SEIZURE, a social media network that had grown to dwarf the other human constructs. Citizens streamed their lives, the games they played, the food they ate…and millions watched. Millions worshipped them.

  Necrotis uploaded the images of the worlds she’d slain, of the battles she’d won. Of the wrath she’d inflicted on the Inurans. She populated her account with beautiful photos and holos, and even took the time to tag Kurz, so that the Confederacy would know she still possessed a hostage.

  It was all rather fun really. She whiled away hours creating photo albums, and adding recordings of all sorts of things. By the time she’d completed her profile and added all the material she’d wanted to add, she had over twenty thousand followers. It would only grow from there.

  When the hour came to finally set aside her tablet and focus on her need for souls she almost pouted. “Kurz, please continue to monitor our account, and remove any comments likely to offend me.”

  Giving him that kind of editorial control would force him to make a moral decision. She placed trust in him. Did he betray that trust? She gambled no, but if he did, it would be in a small and manageable way. If he chose to remain loyal it added another stone to the path of indoctrination.

  She focused her attention on making another tear, and guided the Wrath back into the realm of the living. They appeared over a blue-white world, more ocean than land, with hundreds of millions of souls dwelling primarily on rocky islands and in undersea domes.

  “Are you going to do the same thing here?” Kurz asked quietly as the Wrath dominated the skies of the doomed world.

  “Not this time.” She folded her arms and leered at the world. “This time we are restocking the reserves.”

  Hundreds of fighters launched from the Wrath’s many cargo bays, and began fanning out over the world’s high atmosphere. They moved in a pattern, and split up to cover every meter of the atmosphere. Each ship released a cloud of sickly green dust that spread in their wakes and fanned out over the atmosphere.

  Within moments the view from space changed, and the blue darkened to an ugly green. All life died. The fish. The plants. The people. Everything.

  Necrotis eyed Kurz sidelong to gauge his reaction, but he merely watched without comment.

  Once the final life gave up the struggle, Necrotis willed the cannon to suck in an entire planet worth of souls, as it had when it fired at the Shipmother’s pitiful fleet. The beam vacuumed countless spirits from the surface of the world, tens of millions, and then hundreds of millions flooding into the ships coffers. Enough to fire at least a half dozen shots, well more than she should need in all but the most prolonged of engagements.

  “Now,” she purred, “we are ready to confront them.”

  “This world had a rich history and culture.” Kurz move to stand next to her as he gazed down at the scry-screen. “You wiped them out without a second thought, and clearly don’t care at all for whatever made these people unique, or what you just destroyed.”

  “Yes.” Necrotis made no denial. She merely smiled as the last straggling souls were ripped from the doomed world. “Do you care for those you killed when you were a lurker? Did you investigate their history, and learn who they were? Or did you take all they had for yourself, so that you could persist, and your family could persist?”

  Her soulcatcher made no answer, because he knew the truth. They were not so different. He made no rebuke. The boy merely nodded, and returned to his station to await further orders. She finally had him, even if he didn’t yet know it.

  Kurz thought he would betray her still at some critical moment, but every day the chance of that happening grew less, and the likelihood he’d turn on his former companions grew. She had her army, and she had one of their most loyal soldiers, and soon she would have so much more.

  17

  Holding Cell

  The next morning Miri had predictably vanished to go work out, so I rose, donned my armor, then had the ship teleport me down to engineering. I blinked a few times when I spied the two dozen white-uniformed technicians moving purposely between consoles.

  Vee stood in the back of the room conducting the techs as they swarmed reactors and replaced conduit. She spotted me almost immediately and gave an enthusiastic little wave that eased any nervous tension still lingering.

  I hurried over and willed my helmet off as I surveyed her handiwork. “You guys have done an amazing job in a terrifyingly short time. Bortel tells me we’re ready for war. Do you share that opinion?”

  Vee tapped her lip and frowned as she peered up at the reactor’s humming immensity. The purple-black metal called to me. Sang. We were one, in a way. “Hmm. Yes, I think we’re ready. Not for a prolonged engagement, like six months in the field or anything. I can keep this ship running though. We have lots of trained technicians now, and plenty of mages to power various important systems. We have a proper support crew now.”

  “We’re going to need it,” I muttered as I stared up at the reactor.

  “Jer, what happened to your armor?” She felt the breastplate, which was still badly scored from acid.

  “Training.” I laughed it off. No sense telling her how dangerous flight school would be. “We’ve got a few more days of it, but I’ll be in a cockpit so hopefully my armor doesn’t get too badly messed up.”

  Vee leaned in suddenly and gave me a light hug. She whispered up to my ear. “I appreciate you being okay with…us not being together. I’m sorry I sent Miri to tell you. I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

  Yeah, that definitely fit. Miri hadn’t exactly delivered the message, and I suddenly doubted Vee had any idea Miri and I had been together. Maybe better to keep it that way for the time being.

  “We’ll always be close, and there’s no awkwardness.” I squeezed her once, then let her go forever. “You have a ship to keep running. I have a war to win. We don’t really have time to be people.”

  “Hey!” Vee pushed suddenly past me, and grabbed a spanner from a tech. “This isn’t a hammer. Use the proper tools or you will not be allowed to use any tools. Am I making myself clear?”

  I smiled and willed my helmet to slither back on. It helped knowing that my crew and my ship were in good hands. Seket could handle piloting. Bortel was in command. Vee would keep her flying, and probably keep inventing things to help us win battles. We were the cast of our very own sci-fi holo.

  “Guardian, teleport me to the cargo bay where Briff is.” I closed my eyes to avoid vertigo, and opened them to find myself in the same cargo bay we’d departed from just a few days before.

  Briff stood near the blue membrane separating us from space, but he wasn’t alone. My sister had cozied up to him, and rested her head against his chest. Was he…stroking her hair?

  Smart Jerek would have remained silent, but sometimes I can’t find that version of myself no matter how hard I look. “Do you guys want Inurans? Because this is how you get Inurans.”

  They leapt apart as if burned. Briff’s eyes fell
to the deck, while Rava’s cheeks heated, and then storm clouds gathered in her eyes. Figuratively, if that isn’t clear.

  “So Briff told you we’re going to flight school?” I plunged past the bad one liner, and they let me.

  “Yeah.” Rava straightened her leather jacket, which she wore over a suit of NTM form-fitting body armor. “It sounds pretty cool, and I wish I could go. I bet Seket would wreck that place.”

  “Seket would teach the instructors.” Briff began laughing at his own joke, and we all joined in.

  “I wish you could go too.” I clapped my sister on the shoulder. We didn’t really do hugs. “That place is going to be lethal, and I need more people watching my back.”

  “Just keep Briff safe.” Her glare made it clear there would be depths to pay if I didn’t.

  “I’ll do my best.” I glanced through the membrane, and some tension sliced through our moment of joy. “We should probably get out of here. They’re expecting us at Teodros station.” I could see the looming monstrosity, implacable black surface broken by turrets and endless fighter bays.

  “See you soon, Rava.” Briff started to break away, but my sister darted in and kissed him on his scaly cheek.

  He said nothing and drifted through the membrane after releasing her. I followed and switched to comms as I acclimated to zero gravity. It really was a lot of fun when you had void magic.

  “You know this place could kill us, right?” The comm crackled as it transmitted my initial message.

  “Yeah, but that’s true everywhere we go.” Briff winged out ahead of me, and we zipped toward the station, racing. I had the feeling he could dust me if he wanted to. “I’m excited to learn to fight as a team. You’re going to need a good wingman.”

  “That’s for damned sure.” I plastered my arms to my sides for that much more thrust, but Briff was always just ahead of me. “I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone. Thanks for coming, man.”

  “Just like we always dreamed.” He slowed a bit so I could catch up with him. “I think we’ll enjoy this place. It’s what comes after I’m more worried about.”

  “I’m trying not to think about it.” I wasn’t ready for a war. Not even close. But I was more ready than I’d been three days ago, and hopefully I’d be more ready tomorrow.

  We zipped closer to the station, and I noted that dozens of turrets shifted in our direction as we approached. None fired, but the threat remained. “Not exactly the warmest welcome. Do you know what to expect from Frit’s people? I haven’t met many.”

  “Nah. They keep to themselves, and like orbit more than being on the planet.” Briff flapped and pulled ahead as we completed the last few kilometers to the docking bay where we’d been told to land. “I think they dislike pretty much everyone but their own faction. This world is much more messed up than I thought, but I still really like the Earthmother’s people.”

  They’d been my favorites as well. We cruised under the last watchful guns, and entered the cargo bay. The Krox had a blue membrane, just like we did, and we drifted through and into atmosphere.

  A dozen Ifrit waited, each in spellarmor, and all holding spellrifles aimed in our direction. The leader stepped forward, and a male voice issued from the armor. “Please come this way. We’ll take you to a holding cell until the situation is properly prepared. No questions. No talking. No dawdling.”

  He waved with the barrel of his rifle, so I started up the corridor after him. Briff followed and we dutifully remained silent as they led us through a rabbit’s nest of corridors.

  Eventually we arrived at an ominous black door, which opened with a thunk and a hiss to reveal a small cell, as promised. A bench lined one wall, and a toilet the other, and that was it.

  I stepped inside, and Briff followed a moment later. There was room for both of us, but it was a tight fit. The door slid shut, and we were left in sudden darkness. They hadn’t even left us lights.

  Yup, flight school was going to be amazing.

  18

  Flight School

  We sat in the pitch black conference room for a few moments and then I manifested a flame in the palm of my hands so we could see. There was a lighting fixture set into the ceiling, something that ran off magic, but it had been disabled and refused my attempts to feed it either life or fire.

  “Why are they doing this?” Briff’s tone bore the hurt I knew he felt. “I thought we were here for training.”

  “There could be a lot of reasons.” I kept my tone calm, and tried to reassure him. “It could be hazing. Or it could be they don’t much like humans. I’m sure we’ll figure out which pretty quickly. I don’t expect they’ll have much problem with you.”

  Briff nodded but didn’t reply, so I fished out my tablet and replayed some of the footage I’d taken on arrival when the fighters had done their strafing pass. The Krox vessels were a little stubbier, and a little slower, but packed easily fifty percent more armor. You could get hit once, maybe, and live, whereas the more maneuverable Shayan fighters blew up pretty much on impact.

  For a skilled pilot the advantage in the Shayan fighters was clear. They could push the craft to their edge, and come out on top. For an average pilot, though, you’d much rather have a sturdier ship. I couldn’t do all that fancy Seket stuff anyway, so a more maneuverable fighter was lost on me.

  The door slid open abruptly, and a pair of Ifrit armed with spellrifles stepped into the room. They cleared the way for a third Ifrit, and I blinked when I saw how different this one appeared from the others.

  Every Ifrit thus far had been stamped from the same identical mold as Frit. They could change their hair, or maybe add a piercing or three, but beyond that their entire race were effectively twins.

  Not so this one. The bipedal flaming person before me had no identifying features. No curves or bumps or even anything that looked like muscle. Each limb was smooth and uniform, like fire had been poured into the spellarmor he/she/it wore.

  “My name is Commander Sa’ray.” The voice was deeper than Frit’s, but bore the same Shayan accent, so I guessed this Ifrit had begun as a slave, like so many had. “You will refer to me as Commander. You will not use my name. I only utter it in your presence so you will know it if you hear someone worthy speak it aloud. You are not worthy. You are the scum that grows between the toes of Wyrms. You represent a culture built upon the enslavement of others. You—”

  “Yeah, let me stop you right there.” I rose to my feet and stared Sa’ray in the eye. “Yeah, that’s right. I have a spine. I’m not going to listen to your tirade. I’m not going to take your shit. You want to shut me up?” I snarled at her, the rage infusing every pore, though I couldn’t say what had brought it on in me. Perhaps the amazing hospitality. “You come and shut me up. You and me. Otherwise it’s your turn to listen. I don’t come from Shaya. I have no tie to those bastards, or to slavery. My entire world was blown up by one of the most powerful forces in the Confederacy. We didn’t take part in your war, but we lost our world anyway. Now you want to take out your anger on me because you don’t like humans? Briff and I will take the best you can dish out, and spit in your face when we’re done. If you think Briff and I will be your punching bag, then we’ll just be on our way and I think we’ll be just fine without your ‘training’.”

  Maybe it was payback for everything I’d been through in the last few days. Maybe it was payback for everything dating back to the first time I’d boarded the Word of Xal. I was done lying down and taking grief from ministers and necromancers, and pushy drill sergeants.

  “Well,” came from the Ifrit on the right. “This isn’t going to be nearly as much fun as we were led to believe.”

  “Yeah, Sa, I don’t feel right about this.” The other Ifrit shifted, and her expression darkened. “It sounds like they’re being used too, and theoretically we’re part of the Confederacy just like they are. If we blame everyone…we’d get a share too.”

  Sa merely stared at me, then at Briff, then at me again. Finally s
he stepped from the cell. “Come with me.”

  Sa and her companions plunged up the corridor, and we followed them deeper into the station. As before, I had the sense they were navigating around critical areas we weren’t allowed to see, and we wound around the heart of the station until we emerged into a busy hangar bay filled with dozens of fighters, and twice as many technicians swarming between them.

  Most of the techs were Ifrit, but here and there a hatchling deftly tightened a bolt with a tail, while steadying a strut with their massive hands.

  Sa’ray guided our little group over to a conference room where I guessed pilots received mission briefings, and my hunch was confirmed when we entered a room with four rows of stadium seating facing a lectern. The seats had been forged from feathersteel, and I noted that the occupied chairs, all by Ifrit, had heated to a dull orange from their internal temperature.

  I moved to the front row, and took an unoccupied seat near the middle. Briff hesitated, as we’d always sat in the back of every class we’d taken together, but moved supportively to sit with me.

  “Hi, I’m Briff,” he muttered to an Ifrit on his right as he sank into one of the chairs. She did not return the greeting.

  Sa’ray moved to the front of the class, and waved a hand at the scry-screen dominating the wall. It flickered into a view of the system, with tags marking a number of combat groups.

  “Today begins the last leg of the tourney.” Sa’s flaming eyes met mine, and narrowed. “As all my real pilots know, we are not favored, because we are outmatched by every other squadron. All have more experienced pilots. All have superior coordination. To compensate, since we’re down a wing after that last loss, command has graciously sent us new recruits.”

  I’d never heard recruits used as a dirty word before.

  The Ifrit folded its arms, then turned to the scry-screen. “Today our mission is to fly the Rift.” A green nebula suddenly dominated the screen, rich with the magnetic eddies that had defied Confederate scanners for so long. “The mission will be about raw skill. Our best pilots will live to reach these coordinates, where you will find your prey.”