Trig and Nielsen opened fire along with the Marines. Then Jorrus and Veera surprised them all by stepping forward and—moving as one—slashing with their arms and shouting a shared word.
A burst of searing light obscured the room. Kira blinked, fear jolting through her at being suddenly blind.
Crimson dots mottled her vision as the light faded. In front of their group, she saw a fine net of monofilaments covering the walls, the broken corner of the building, and the vehicle outside—which was curled on its side and convulsing as tendrils of electricity crawled across the plates of its exposed carapace.
In the distance, more Jellies were approaching.
“Run!” the Entropists shouted.
They ran.
“What did you do?” Kira shouted.
“Magic!” Veera answered, which was wholly unsatisfying, but Kira didn’t have the breath to question her further.
They broke through the back of the building, and—across another plaza—Kira spotted the mausoleum-like structure she’d identified from the air. The two other armored Marines were crouched by the closed-off entrance, the blue-white light of cutting torches bright beneath their metal gauntlets.
They switched off the torches and laid down covering fire as Kira and her companions sprinted across the plaza.
One of the Marines next to Koyich stumbled and fell. Blood and bone sprayed from his knee. Trig picked him up with one hand and carried him the rest of the way to the temple.
Kira dropped behind a slab of rubble, using it for cover while she caught her breath. If the Jellies got close enough, she could take them out with the Soft Blade, but so far, they’d kept their distance. They knew what they were dealing with, and they were behaving accordingly, goddammit. Did they have to be so smart?
A Jelly drone popped up over the top of the slab. Nielsen fried it with a single burst of laser fire from her exo. Through her faceplate, she appeared red-faced and sweating. Strands of hair had broken free of her ponytail and fallen across her face.
Behind another slab, Trig laid the Marine with the mangled knee onto the ground. Redding said the tag on the front of his skinsuit. Sanchez ran over to them, and—before Kira could believe what she was seeing—he took his blaster and sliced off the rest of the Marine’s wounded leg.
Redding didn’t even scream, but he screwed his eyes shut during the cut. He must have been using a nerve-block to stop the pain. Sanchez cinched a tourniquet around the stump of the leg, sprayed the bloody end with medifoam, and then slapped the man on the shoulder and joined the rest of the Marines in firing over the tops of the rubble.
Kira looked at the front of the temple. The entrance was sealed with what looked like a plug of solid metal. The two Marines had only managed to cut into it a hand’s breadth or less.
Dirt showered her as Nielsen and Trig grabbed the slab of stone she was crouching behind and, with their exos, heaved it upright so it formed a barrier between them and the Jellies gathering at the edges of the plaza. The Marines did the same with the other slabs, setting them in a semicircle before the temple.
“If you’re going to do something, now’s the time,” said Falconi, reloading Francesca from the pouch on his belt.
“Fuck that,” said Koyich. “Use shaped charges; blow it open.”
“No!” said Kira. “You could destroy the staff.”
Koyich ducked as bullets and shrapnel whined overhead. He pulled the tab on another canister of chalk and threw it into the center of the plaza. “We’ll get destroyed, if we can’t get in there.”
An image flashed through Kira’s mind of the moment when she’d ripped the transmitter out of the wall of the Jelly ship. “Just hold them off,” she said, scrambling to her feet. Keeping her head down, she ran to the blocked entrance of the temple and put her hands against the cold metal.
Sweat dripped into her eyes as she loosened her grip on the Soft Blade—just a fraction—and reached out with the suit, stretching and spreading herself, like a rubber sheet pulled taut. Don’t lose control … don’t lose control.…
A bullet flattened itself against the metal above her head, spraying her with silvery spall. Kira hunched her shoulders and tried to ignore the constant, battering explosions of gunfire and grenades.
Her skin crawled as the Soft Blade tore open her skinsuit and formed a web of knotting tendrils between her fingers. The tendrils extended outward, flowing across the metal surface, seeking and grasping with millions of hairlike feelers.
“Thule!” Trig exclaimed.
“Might want to hurry,” Falconi said in a conversational tone.
Kira pressed inward with the xeno, driving it into every cranny and crevice and microscopic stress fracture. She felt the xeno—felt herself—burrowing through the bonded structure of the metal, like tree roots digging through hard-packed earth.
The metal was incredibly thick. Meters upon meters of it armored the entrance to the temple. What were they trying to keep out? she wondered. Then it occurred to her that perhaps the Soft Blade was the answer to that question.
Heat radiated from the surface of the metal as it began to give. “Get ready!” she shouted. The moment she felt movement between her various extruded tendrils, she yanked, hard.
With an anguished shriek, the metal parted. Glittering dust filled the air as the fibers of the suit pulled heavy, silver-grey chunks away from the building. A dark opening took shape before her.
Overhead, three more Jelly ships screamed across the sky, meteors trailing fire and smoke. From them fell scores of drop-pods: evil seeds planted throughout the city. Too late, Kira thought, triumphant.
She returned the Soft Blade to herself, and again she was whole.
4.
Bullets whined off the sides of the jagged metal, and laser blasts melted finger-sized holes—splattering molten droplets in every direction—as Kira pushed forward into the darkness.
Falconi followed close behind, then Trig, Nielsen, and the rest of the squad. The Marines activated flat, hemispherical glow lights, which they tossed around the perimeter of the space.
The room was huge and deep. Even with the crazed collection of lights, Kira recognized the sweep of the arched ceiling and the pattern of the tessellated floor. This place she had walked long ago, beside the Highmost, near the end of days.… A graveyard chill gave her pause, and she said, quietly, “Everyone be careful. Don’t touch anything.”
Behind her, Hawes snapped orders, and the Marines took aim at the ragged opening they’d entered through.
“Hold this spot,” said Koyich. “Don’t let a single Jelly past.”
“Sir, yessir!”
As Kira ventured deeper into the darkness, Falconi joined her, as did Koyich, Nielsen, Trig, and the Entropists. But they let her take the lead as she headed toward the back of the space.
Now that they were inside the temple, Kira knew exactly where to go. There was no question in her mind; ancient memories assured her that this was the right place and that what she sought was just ahead.…
Gunshots continued to echo through the cavernous chamber, loud and thunderous. How long had the place lain in silence? And now the violence of Jellies and humans fighting had shattered that peace. Kira wondered who the Vanished would fault most if they were still around.
Thirty meters from the entrance, the room ended at an enormously tall, thin pair of outward-curving doors. White and inlayed with fractal lines of blue, they were far more ornate than anything else she’d seen in the city.
Kira raised a hand. Before she touched the doors, a ring of light appeared near the height of her head, overlapping the seam between the two doors. Then they parted without sound, sliding into the walls and disappearing into hidden recesses.
Another room lay before them, smaller than the antechamber. It was heptagonal in shape, with a ceiling that twinkled as if with stars and a floor that possessed a faint, iridescent sheen like that of a soap bubble. At each vertex of the room stood a crystalline obelisk, blue-white
and translucent, save for the one opposite her, which was red and black. It, like the others, had a stern look, as if watching over the chamber with a disapproving gaze.
But it was the center of the room that drew Kira’s attention. Three steps—too high and shallow to be comfortable for human anatomy—led to a dais, also heptagonal. From the dais rose a pedestal, and from the pedestal, a four-sided case that sparkled like cut diamond.
Within the diamond case there hung suspended seven shards: the Staff of Blue, now broken.
Kira stared. She could not bring herself to understand or accept. “No,” she whispered.
Then alerts flashed in her overlays, and despite herself, she looked. A groan escaped her, and it echoed in the mausoleum of the Vanished.
Fourteen more ships had entered the system. Not Jellies. Nightmares.
CHAPTER IV
TERROR
1.
They were surrounded. They would have to stand and fight, and they would likely die.
Kira’s mind whirled as the reality of the situation clamped shut around her, like an iron coffin. There was no escape this time, no trick or turn or hope of reprieve. They were too far from anywhere to expect help, and neither the Jellies nor the nightmares would show them mercy.
It was all her fault, and it wasn’t something she could fix.
“Is it supposed to be like that?” Falconi asked, his voice harsh. He indicated the broken staff.
“No,” said Kira.
“Can you fix it?” said Koyich, echoing her thoughts.
“No. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”
“That’s not an acceptable answer, Navárez. We—”
BOOM!
The building shuddered. Pieces of the starry ceiling crashed to the floor, the heavens coming undone. The diamond case swayed and fell, shattered—sending the pieces of the Staff of Blue flying in different directions.
The Entropists bent to pick up one of the shards.
Through the doorway to the inner sanctum, Kira saw the front of the temple had been blown apart. The Jellies’ pillbug-like vehicle was parked outside, no longer incapacitated, main gun trained on their location. The Marines were retreating from the jagged opening even as they peppered the vehicle with bullets and lasers.
Sparks erupted from the side of the pillbug’s gun as the concentrated fire slagged it.
“Falconi! How far out is the Wallfish?” said Koyich, shouldering his gun as he moved to the side of the doorway.
“Fifteen minutes,” said Falconi, taking the other side.
“Shit. Get in here! Get in here! Move! Move! Move!” Koyich shouted at his men even while firing into the clouds of smoke and chaff, as precise as a machine.
“Pinned down!” said Hawes. “Got wounded! Can’t—”
The clumping thuds of Nielsen’s exo startled Kira as the woman charged past her, into the front area of the temple. Falconi swore and fired three grenades in quick succession to buy her some time.
As each grenade detonated, it cleared a spherical area of smoke, chalk, and dust. Then the grey-white haze rushed in, obscuring the view once more.
Feeling ashamed of herself, Kira ran after Nielsen. She saw the first officer pick up a pair of downed Marines and sprint back toward the inner part of the temple. Kira spotted another wounded Marine, only this one still in his exo. She slid to a stop next to him and hit the quick-release latches on the side of the machine.
The front casing popped open, and the man fell out, coughing blood. “Let’s go,” said Kira, slipping his arm over her shoulders.
Half carrying him, she hurried toward the doorway to the sanctum. Nielsen had already dropped off her casualties and was returning to the open.
A numbing impact hit Kira on the right side, causing her to fall to one knee. She glanced down and immediately wished she hadn’t: the black fibers along her ribs were blown out like a spray of needles. Blood, muscle, and bone were visible scattered between.
Even as she looked, the fibers knitted together as they began to close over the wound.
She gasped and pushed against the floor with legs that had lost all feeling, trying to continue moving forward. One step, two steps, and then she was walking again with the man’s weight still heavy on her shoulder.
As she cleared the doorway, Falconi took the man off her.
Kira immediately turned to head back out, but Falconi caught her by the arm. “Don’t be stupid!” he said.
She shook him off and headed deeper into the clouds, looking for the last few Marines. Outside the temple, more explosions, more gunfire. If not for the Soft Blade, Kira doubted she would have been able to think or function amid the noise. Each blast was a concussion strong enough to feel in her bones, and the objects around her blurred from the force of the blows. The noise seemed to be increasing too.
Where are they? She couldn’t see any Jellies through the mess of smoke, only twisted, incomprehensible shapes thrashing in the murk.
“SJAMs incoming,” barked Koyich. “Hit the deck!”
Kira dropped flat, covering her head.
A half second later, four separate explosions struck the streets surrounding the plaza, lighting up the area with a hellish blaze. The ground rippled and smacked Kira in the cheek, causing her teeth to clack together with painful force.
“Status,” said Koyich. “Get me eyes on hostiles.”
“Looks like we took out most of ’em,” said Hawes, “but can’t tell for sure. Waiting for a better view.”
The explosions had only added to the swirling clouds, thickening them to the point where it was nearly pitch-black in the plaza.
Kira listened; she no longer heard gunfire nor the sounds of moving Jellies. As the wind began to clear the air, she risked poking her head up and looking around.
Clang! Across the exposed antechamber of the temple, Nielsen staggered back, a large dent in the front of her power armor. She fired her arm-mounted machine gun several times into the haze, and Kira heard the splatter of bullets hitting flesh.
Down the clogged streets, she saw dozens more heat-spots approaching. More Jellies.
Trig came running out of the temple’s inner sanctum, heading for Nielsen. As he skidded to a stop beside her, Koyich said, “That’s all the help we can expect from the Ilmorra. We’ll be lucky if they don’t go after her for setting off those SJAMs. Get everyone inside. Make it fast!”
There were still four Marines on the ground. Kira started toward the nearest one.
One of the Jellies’ white drones flew into view around the edge of the temple’s broken façade, while at the same time, a large, tentacled squid climbed over the mounded rubble, a pair of blasters held by its twisting limbs.
Kira scrabbled for her weapon but couldn’t find it. Where was it? Had she dropped it? There wasn’t enough time, no time, no time—
Trig jumped in front of Nielsen, firing his blaster and his rifle at the same time. His face was contorted, and he was screaming over the radio: “Yaaaah! Come on, you fucker! Eat it!”
The white, orb-shaped drone spun as bullets slammed into it, and then it sparked and tumbled to the ground. Behind it, the squid flinched, raised a tentacle holding a long, bar-shaped railgun.
The Soft Blade pulsed outward as it struggled to attack. Out of habit, Kira resisted, unwilling to let go, unwilling to trust the xeno—Bang.
The sound from the Jelly’s weapon was short and sharp. It cut through the commotion like auditory punctuation. Startling silence followed. Trig’s guns ceased firing as his armor locked up, and then he slowly toppled backward, a statue falling.
Centered on the front of his visor was a finger-sized hole, and frozen on his face, a look of terrible surprise.
“No!” Falconi shouted.
Shock paralyzed Kira for a moment, and then horrified understanding spurred her back into action. Too slow. She relaxed her hold on the Soft Blade and reached out with it, intending to loose the xeno and tear the Jelly to shreds.
Bef
ore she could, a woman in a skinsuit ran in front of the squid, waving a piece of white cloth. “Wait! Stop! Stop! We come in peace!”
Kira froze, unable to process what she was seeing.
As the stranger clambered into the temple, the gold sheen of her visor cleared to reveal a hard, lined face.
For a moment, Kira saw only a collection of unfamiliar features. Then her perspective shifted, and the planet seemed to tilt underneath her. “You!” she said.
“Navárez,” said Major Tschetter.
2.
More Jellies gathered around the broken front of the temple, but for some reason they didn’t shoot, so Kira ignored them as she rushed to Trig’s side.
Falconi and the squad’s medic were only a step behind. The medic removed Trig’s helmet with practiced speed, and pooled blood poured out across the tessellated floor in bright crimson streaks.
The kid was still conscious, his white-rimmed eyes darting around with a panicked look. A bullet had hit him near the base of his neck, ripping apart the arteries. Blood pumped out at a frightening rate, each spurt weaker than the last. His mouth worked, but no words came forth, only a horrible bubbling sound—the desperate gasps of a drowning swimmer.
My fault, Kira berated herself. She should have acted faster. She should have trusted the xeno. If only she hadn’t been so focused on control, she would have been able to protect the kid.
From a pocket, the medic produced an oxygen mask that he fixed over Trig’s mouth. Then he took a canister of medifoam, pressed the nozzle into the center of the wound, and sprayed.
Trig’s eyes rolled back, and his breathing stuttered. His arms began to quiver.
The medic stood. “He needs cryo. Unless you can get the Ilmorra here in the next few minutes, he’s dead.” As he spoke, Nielsen got back to her feet, holding a hand against the dent in her chestplate. He pointed a finger at her. “Need help?”
“I’ll survive,” she said.
With that, the medic hurried past to the Marines waiting for his attention.
To Sleep in a Sea of Stars Page 47
