by J. N. Chaney
I stop, look back, and can’t see the Heptagon or the Prothean statue ships. Axu continues forward, a blade in one hand and a weapon I can’t identify in the other. It might be a gun, but other than the tubelike construction, it doesn’t look like any firearm I have ever used. He holds it in the middle, for one thing. There is no stock, no sights or scope. I can see it’s a tube, or a barrel, but little else.
The blade flashes rhythmically, shooting spiderwebs of electricity across its surface. I recall how Axu attacked the ice spider and drove it backward. I’d seen flashes of light but not exactly what the weapon did. This time, I was going to have a front row seat to the demonstration.
I hold up one hand, palm facing the Prothean. “Stop.”
He keeps coming.
I try again, seeking a word he might understand. “Wait.”
The Prothean closes the gap, placing his feet less than three strides from me. “Axu stops. Axu waits for Overlord Orphan.” He puts away the tube weapon but holds the blade at his side.
I am seriously interested as to how he made that conclusion about me. “We don’t want to fight Protheans.”
“You have no choice.”
I struggle to understand the words. Each syllable has an extra, almost subliminal sound. The cadence is alien, but most of all, the bassoon timber of his speech garbles his declaration.
I thought first contact would be more dignified. This is like debating a child, but a child that might kill me without trying very hard.
“You have weapons. You are polluted by more than one gate passage. Why don’t you try me,” Axu said. “Other… Orphans… have.”
“How did they do?”
“They have become unorganized organic material.”
I cringe. “That’s an interesting description of being dead. I’ll pass. Sounds unhealthy.”
“Death is natural.”
“Sure, but it can wait.”
Axu sidesteps, circling around me but coming no closer. “Perhaps, perhaps not. You are different.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I sidestep, circling the other direction. This feels too much like a fight. We’re sizing each other up.
The Prothean is far larger, clearly stronger, and was able to drive fear into the gigantic ice spider. I need to stall.
“How did you know I’m an Orphan?”
“Untraveled Overlords are easier to catch, easier to kill than your clan,” he says, then shows his teeth.
There are similarities between Dogans and Protheans, but dental work isn’t one of them. Zedas has flat, chisel like teeth. Axu has a mouth full of sabers, some of them sheathed in polished metal, some of them serrated like murderous saws.
Stall, Murph. Keep stalling.
“You said you would feed us to the heart of the planet. What does that mean? You pointed to the monster’s lair.”
“This planet is like many others in the sub sector of Goliath. Almost no biodiversity. The line between the planet and its animals is hard to see.”
Parsing out this explanation takes time. I replay it in my head several times. My head aches. I feel sick. Talking to Axu is dropping from my list of favorite things to do. First contact is definitely not my thing. Studying long dead civilizations is more my speed.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He puts away the blade with a flick of his wrist then makes it disappear into his armor, similar to what a Dogan would do. “To be understood.”
“Hey, me too. Maybe we’re not so different after all.”
Axu doesn’t laugh. I make a mental note; humor isn’t effective with Protheans.
He hisses a new sound, and then turns three hundred and sixty degrees, fixing his gaze on the white wilderness. The ground trembles. I back away while he’s not watching, then start searching for what is causing the tremors.
“You should not have gone into the heart of the planet,” Axu says. “It is angry.”
“It?”
“The creature below,” Axu says, retrieving two of his other weapons. Right when I think he’s finished, he does a little shake that causes the handles of several additional weapons to pop into view but remain sheathed in his armor.
“You fought the spider already,” I say.
“This isn’t the same incarnation. It is different, yet the same. Plaegnour, what you call the spider, is the hive mind of all life on this planet,” Axu says.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
Axu hisses, then snaps at me. “If we die here, I will hunt you in the afterlife. Heed my warning, Orphan.”
“Sounds like a lose-lose scenario on my end, unless you promise to let me and my friends go after this,” I say, resting my gloved hand on the coat covering my charge pistol. Why draw it? The spider is too big to shoot.
Massive slabs of ice thrust into the air. The Plaegnour spider bursting into view is not the one I saw the day before. This one is twenty times larger with hundreds of tentacles instead of legs. It thrashes the scene into a slurry of ice.
The slab beneath my feet rises higher and higher. I slide backward, roll twice, and choke on a mouth full of frozen grit the beast churns up. Axu runs. I follow because there is only one direction to choose.
“Call your people! They can pick us up,” I shout.
Axu rattles and hisses. None of his words make sense. He falls. Instinct compelled me to help him up. I wonder why I bother even as I’m doing it.
The Prothean is lighter than Zedas, a fact I won’t forget. What else can I learn before we’re killed?
“Do not wait for it,” Axu barks. “Move faster!”
I sprint as fast as my bulky survival gear will allow. The Prothean can’t know I’m setting a personal record. Plaegnour roars like a leviathan and that’s all the encouragement I need to push myself.
Axu pulls away at first, but runs out of gas. I pass him, half expecting my antagonist to trip me.
The ice ripples like a rug someone is shaking beneath my feet. I fall again and again but refuse to stay down or stop. Axu hisses and wheezes behind me, trying to catch up.
“I don’t have to outrun the Plaegnour, I just have to outrun you,” I shout back.
“You are correct,” Axu says.
“That was supposed to piss you off but whatever.” I look for the Heptagon on the horizon but don’t see it. We came a long way before angering the bigger, meaner sibling of the ice spider. “I’m not a fan of this planet!”
“Your feelings are of no importance to me, Orphan.”
“Call me Murph.” Who knows why I say it. We’re not friends, though we are going to die together if the leviathan keeps coming.
I look to the sky. “Shaina, if you can read me, I could really use a pickup. You better have the ship fixed.”
No response.
“Mayday, mayday. Is anyone listening?” I repeat the call and get no response. Axu makes no effort to summon help from his people. Neither does he turn and kill the thing or die trying.
I reach solid ground, only visible because of the slight change in elevation. Plaegnour follows us onto the shore, carving trenches in the ice large enough to swallow the Heptagon if it were here.
I don’t stop until a quarter mile after the monster beaches itself and roars with fury. Hands on my knees, I struggle to catch my breath as Axu shifts his attention back to me. My skin crawls from his stare and I know our alliance was never a good one and is definitely over now.
The Prothean recovers more quickly. He balls one fist and punches me in the face while I throw up both forearms in self defense. The blow launches me backward.
I remain conscious but can’t get up. My vision swims in random directions. Dull sounds fill my ears.
Axu strips away my coat and my weapons. “No more running. I will have what I want from you or you will wish you had died on the frozen ocean.”
“I was tired of running anyway,” I say, struggling in vain to break free.
“Are you mocking me?” Axu asks. “This
would be unwise.”
He’s dragging me with one hand, so I use both of mine to counter his hold, then twist my legs into position to kick. Hanging from his long arm, I thrust both feet into his legs, hoping to break free or at least trip him.
He smashes his free hand into my face, and it’s lights out for me, Hank Murphy, the fool who thought he could escape.
9
Axu’s voice burrows into my consciousness, slithering through my nightmare like a questing snake. “Wake up.”
I crack my eyelids and tense my body even though I can’t move. The Prothean leans near. His eyes radiate malevolence. Each gold iris moves independently—like gold bands melting and reforming as his heart beats. The pupils are black diamonds, bottomless and cold.
I don’t want to be here.
His lips curl back to the edge of his organic helmet. Three rows of overlapping teeth look sharp enough to rend flesh from bone. Hell, they look sharp enough to rend bone from bone.
I scoot backward, ready to fight or flee. “Where are we?”
“Far from your primitive vessel. I fled the leviathan and other creatures of the planet for most of the night. Be thankful I did not leave you behind,” Axu says. Nothing about his tone is comforting.
My charge pistol and coat are gone. Huddling against the wall with the giant looming over me, I measure the distance to the exit. It might be close enough to reach before he lashes out, but why risk it? Playing the lottery with my life... no thanks. Besides, without my survival gear, I won’t last half an hour out there.
Axu turns his back on me, stalks away, then paces near the entrance. “Where is the tablet? What have you done with it? I must have it.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying not to think about the device shoved down the back of my pants. With so many layers of clothing, I barely feel it. Why had I concealed the device?
Good question. The answer is simple. Keeping the Orphan Gate tablet a secret has become second nature. Jack’s not getting it from me, and neither is this Prothean scout.
“My ship detected the final tablet on this planet, in this region. In fact, it moves when you move. Do not lie to me. Surrender the device and I will return your coat,” he says.
“Oh, wow. Generous.”
“Truly? Then you will comply with my demand?” he asks, his face disturbingly eager. Wide eyes should make him look childish but the effect is demonic instead.
“No. I’m not giving you anything,” I say. “Until I see my friends.” A shiver rolls through my body.
“This will not happen,” Axu says, flicking the idea away with his long, sharp fingers. “I warn you, Orphan human, do not test me. Soon I will triangulate the coordinates to the missing technology. I know it is near me. You will pay for your insolence.”
My comms are gone, stripped away with my coat. Lost on a world cold enough to kill me on a good day, without weapons, and facing the strangest alien yet—my prospects just stink.
“Surrender the tablet or I will kill you and take it,” he says. “When you are a corpse, it will be easy to find. I know you are hiding it.”
“If you thought I was carrying it, you would’ve already tried that. You’ll never learn where I hid it if I’m dead.” It’s a desperate gamble but I see results immediately. Axu stares like he wants to punch holes through my face with his gaze. His lips tremble around his horrifying teeth. I hold my ground and he loses confidence, shifting sideways and cocking his head.
Or at least that is how I interpret his body language. “I’m willing to make a deal—after you prove I can trust you.”
“Where is it? I must know.”
I try again, pushing the issue. “Let’s negotiate. My friends for information. I can’t hand it to you, but if you do exactly as I say, you can find it.”
He stomps away, leaving the cave in favor of the storm. Two seconds after he steps into the wind, he vanishes.
I’m alone.
Without a coat or basic survival gear.
Not what I had expected from the conversation.
“We’re not done with this, you Prothean son-of-a… whatever! We’re not done by a long shot!” I retreat from the wind at the entrance, squat against the back wall, and hug myself for warmth.
He doesn’t return.
“Good job, Murph. That was strong work.” I stare at my feet, ignoring how my frozen breath falls to the cave floor. Glowing ice illuminates one corner. The bones of small animals litter the ground. A drift of snow accumulates near the entrance. Once, the blizzard parts like a veil and I spot the Prothean statue ship flying search patterns in the distance shining a grid of green light toward the surface of the planet. The scan moves farther and farther away.
Weather traps me in the meager shelter. Time passes slowly. I can’t sit still. Cold air works through the gaps in my clothing each time I move. Striding back and forth across my latest prison warms me, but not enough. Raising my core temperature does little to stop the wind burn from my face and the ice forming around my nose and mouth.
Bracing myself against the savage atmosphere of this planet, I rush into a fresh flurry of snow and ice that pelts me through my shirt. Every inch of exposed skin is stung. I cover my eyes and mouth with my hands. Before long, I’m stumbling blindly, rarely looking up from my feet.
It’s no good. Rushing into the storm without a plan is a great way to die of exposure. Scrambling back to the cave entrance takes longer than expected. I can’t find it. My pants and shirtsleeves are damp with sweat and melted snow, but not for long.
I watch moisture freeze on the backs of my hands and melt with each new exertion. My skin burns and my joints ache until by some miracle I fall back into the cave entrance and crawl into the dim glow of the algae in one corner.
I need to think, because that is the best tool I have left. Forethought would have prevented my current misery.
No more mistakes. This is serious business. The planet will kill me without a second thought.
And I have other problems to unravel.
Why did Axu bring me here?
Answer one, he’s telling the truth and had no choice. The larger, more freaky sibling of the ice spider chased us into this delightful corner of the planet. Answer two, Axu left me here for safe keeping while he completes his search and then goes after my friends.
I really don’t like the second explanation.
What are my options? I can freeze to death, or for variety, I can freeze to death. Laughing at my dark joke, I again edge toward the entrance and the raging storm. My heart races faster at the thought of the painful cold. This tempest is worse than the night before. Flecks of ice pelt my face before I am even close. Outside it must be ten times worse.
Stomping my feet, hugging myself and rubbing my torso for warmth, I gaze outside, doubting I’ll see much. But I have to try because I need information to formulate a plan. Sooner or later, this is the direction I must travel.
At first, there is nothing but a whiteout blizzard that stings my face and forces me to hunch low and squint. But then, just for a second, the clouds part and I see daylight.
The panoramic view of the frozen coastal region brings tears to my eyes that immediately freeze. Golden sunlight streaks across cyclones of white dancing over a white tabletop stretching all the way to the horizon. There is no sign of Axu or the Prothean ships. I don’t see the Heptagon, but I didn’t expect to.
And suddenly I’m blind again with wind roaring in my ears. I retreat into my isolation.
Think, Murph. What did you see?
The terrain is markedly different than before, so Axu brought me a considerable distance. This cave exists at elevation, which means I’m nearer the mountains, possibly in the foothills.
I think back to my first sight of them. They’d seemed a hundred miles away—an impossible distance to run, especially with the leviathan crashing through the ice to kill both of us.
Squatting down, I try to forget how cold and hungry I am. Focusing on the
small amount of information I have helps.
Axu couldn’t have brought me this far on foot. He must have used his ship. The same one I witnessed scanning the terrain. The most obvious possibility is that he took me to his ship, then flew away from the leviathan, the Heptagon, and his own people.
He must not want to share the final gate tablet when he finds it. That suggests the Protheans are just as troubled by politics and greed as humans, Hadrians, or Dogans.
They have weaknesses just like us. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
There is one tool I have been afraid Axu would take from me: the Orphan Gate tablet. Outside of gazing at star maps and wishing I was someplace warm I don’t know what good it will do. If this cave had a gate, I’d be gone even if it meant leaving my friends in this system. Dying here won’t help them.
The screen glows, illuminating my face with a soft blue glow. Symbols scroll toward the center creating an optical illusion. Entranced, I lose track of time. The script tantalizes my imagination. I feel like I should understand its meaning.
A three dimensional map solidifies. I’ve seen it before, hundreds of times. My life in the Goliath sector hasn’t been all running and gunning. Traveling between star systems takes time, and I’ve made the most of it—always studying, theorizing, and seeking answers.
The controls are wonky. Sometimes I can change the screen view easily. Other times it’s like the device has its own mind and is messing with me. Eventually, I find the screen I am looking for—one labeled Dark Eye. So far as I can tell, that represents where Jack logged into his Orphan Gate key. Our devices are connected. Until now I only saw that as dangerous. Now I’m thinking of ways to send an SOS.
A list of coordinates runs down one side, some of them blue, some red, and a few red with lines through them. I think this is a record of where my friend has been, but what do the colors mean and is having a line drawn through the numbers a good thing or a bad thing.
Is that a dangerous place, or a checked-off to-do list? Did he find what he wanted there? Loot ancient ruins? Or had he nearly been killed and marked it as a place not to return to? One star, would not recommend.
