Angela Strange: Legend of the Arc-Walker

by Mick Fraser

  Angela’s eyes snapped open. The room was dimly lit by a strip-bulb above her that steadily oozed milky blue light into the shadows. She sat up immediately, feeling curiously dizzy. She didn’t feel rested, and her feet were numb, aching. She had no idea of the time, but after availing herself of the toilet facilities in her cell, she returned to the bed and sat down.

  Her mind was a fog, but she knew she hadn’t been dreaming, not really. She could clearly recall the conversation with the entity known as Wish, but it was fading fast. There were things she needed to remember, and nowhere to write them down or record them. She half-turned, fishing behind the bed for the discarded lightglass, then reached up to remove one of the clips Gaelan had put in her hair. Carefully she scratched words into the glass: Sinisfarn, Flame, Wish, Weave, Grim.

  There was a noise outside her cell, and the door opened to admit the Silsir servant, framed by soft white light. She bore a tray of food once again. Angela stood and crossed to her. “Who are you?” she hissed. “Can you get me out of here?”

  The servant replied in her native language, a throaty, guttural tongue akin in form and structure to Russian. She looked agitated as she pushed past Angela and left the room. The guards slammed the door.

  Frustrated, Angela swore and turned. She scooped aside a pile of yellow grapes and found what she was looking for. The lightglass lit up, this time revealing a longer sentence. Less inclined towards Nancy Drew-ing after last night, she lay down on the bed facing away from the door and scowled at the message.

  The first word was pluralised. They or we. The second she didn’t recognise right away. The third was “what”, and the fourth was the same as the first. “They... what they...” Or “we... what we...”. The fifth word was a tricky one.

  Orrenian had the same basic language structure as English, a 26-word alphabet and most of the same inflections and phrases. The Iniir, Shimmer had explained, had simply bastardised their own lexicon when teaching primitive humans to speak. English was an amalgamation of dozens of languages that had formed over thousands of years, and Orrenian was the same. The Iniir had been visiting both worlds for a long, long time.

  Angela concentrated, trying to remember her lessons with Gaelan and Shimmer. Slowly the symbols took on meaning: the fifth word was “leave”. As soon as she identified the sixth word, she knew the whole phrase.

  WE ARE WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND.

  For a brief moment she was elated at deciphering the sentence, but it soon passed, replaced by irritation. “What the fuck does that mean?” she whispered.

  Angela spent most of the day trying to find a link between the two messages, but she couldn’t work it out. The first was an obvious notification that the girl, whoever she was, had ties to the Firebrands. Which meant that someone else had given her the message, someone with more authority. But what could the second mean? What had she left behind that could help her now? Something on Earth? Earth itself? Or was it more specific than that? For some reason it made her think of death.

  She remembered something her granddad had said in his eulogy at her parents’ funeral, a million years ago.

  “Think of them fondly, always. For when we die, we cease to be just a person. We become an idea. A dream. A memory, made up of all the things we’ve ever done and said, we become a wish, made up of all the things we felt, and made others feel. We become not what we were, but what we’re remembered as. We become not the things we had, but the things we have left behind.”

  We are what we leave behind. Rathe. It was a message about Rathe.

  By the time the Silsir girl brought in her midday meal, Angela was ready. As she came into the room, Angela took the tray from her and at the same time pressed the second lightglass into the girl’s palm. She had scratched a question on it, in the best Orrenian she could manage. A simple question, but one she needed answering: can you get me out? The girl left hurriedly, and Angela immediately retrieved the third glass from beneath the food. This one, frustratingly, beheld a single word: BASTILLIA.

  Was that a place? Or a person? Was it a ship, or a world? It tied to the other messages, she knew. If – when – she got out, Shimmer and Six-Tails would help her decipher the riddle. Something in Rathe’s past was the answer, she was sure. But Rathe was dead. Why was this relevant now? And why so damn cryptic? People on this side of the galaxy just didn’t know how to be upfront.

  Angela paced her cell for the rest of the day. The kimono-thing she wore was beginning to itch. She wanted a shower. She wanted her hypersuit back. It had gone into a storage locker in the security room where they stripped her, two corridors away. If she was going to get out of here, she’d need it. Her pacing was interrupted when the door opened. The girl shuffled in, avoiding Angela’s gaze. She set down the tray and left. Angela ran to it, moving the chak to one side.

  There was no glass this time. No answer to her question. Or, perhaps, that was a pretty final answer in itself. She swore, returning to the bed. She felt that a flame had gone out inside her. Whoever was sending the messages was doing only that. No rescue party, no rebel plan, just messages. More puzzles, in a galaxy of puzzles.

  She was about to lay down when the cell door opened again and Evayne appeared in the doorway with a pair of red-painted Exethan guards. One of the guards tossed her hypersuit on the floor.

  “Put that on, girl,” Evayne told her. “The Machine is ready.”

  CHAPTER 46

  ~ASSEMBLY~

  THE MACHINE WAS not what Angela expected. It had been constructed in one of the Uncommon Hero’s many hangars, where two dozen Exethan scurried back and forth under the command of a tall Ri'in with a vita-suit similar to Shimmer’s, only red and fitted with an ornate face mask. His movements, while fluid, were less so than Shimmer’s. Angela knew as little about the Ri'in as she knew about anything out here, but she suspected he was much older than Shim and no warrior.

  She turned her eyes to the centre of the room, where stood an assembly of cold black metal rods, almost like a spider's web, twelve feet tall and around the same wide, with a human-sized opening at its base like the back half of an iron maiden. Each gleaming rod was stitched with veins of glowing violet and specks of throbbing white light.

  Varo stood off to the right of it, but crossed the room when he saw Evayne enter with Angela. He was still dressed in his combat regalia, as though he didn’t trust the Machine and was expecting a fight. He eyed the device over his shoulder as he approached. “Construction is almost complete, Highness,” he said, bowing his head.

  Evayne half-turned towards Angela. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”

  Angela didn’t want to admit it, but it was. Even from here, it radiated power; she could feel it throbbing in the air like static. There were wires attached to it, hooked up to several banks of transparent monitors on one side of the room. The red-clad Ri'in drifted around them, and after admonishing the Exethan manning the screens, turned his attention on Angela. He glided over slowly, bowing low to Evayne but refusing to acknowledge Varo.

  “Lord Keeper Remnath,” Evayne greeted, nodding towards the Machine. “How goes it?”

  “It is quite extraordinary, Highness. I have never seen anything like it. Of course, had I time to bring my entire team from Amman Math...”

  Evayne raised a hand. “We discussed that, Keeper, at length. The only personnel here are those I can fully trust, or else can wipe clean at will.”

  The Ri'in harrumphed, looking towards Angela. “Is this it?” he asked.

  It? She crossed her arms. “And who the fuck are you?”

  “This is the Catalyst,” Evayne told Remnath. There was something new in her voice, a thrill of excitement maybe, nerves, anticipation. Whatever it was, Angela didn’t care for it.

  The Ri’in moved his intricate mask closer to Angela’s face. “Are you prepared, Earthborn?”

  Angela stepped away, but the Exethan behind her moved in and blocked her retreat. Angrily she looked at Evayne. “Can we get this over with?”


  Evayne laughed, clapping Varo on the shoulder. “Come! I want to see it in motion.”

  “We have yet to initialise it, Highness,” Remnath told her. “It may take time.”

  He scurried off towards the Machine, and Evayne halted Angela by a waist-high safety rail, which she leaned on. Angela looked around the cavernous hangar: on her left the bay doors were firmly sealed, likely several metres thick and completely airtight. To the right, the monitors and their staff were lined up four rows deep. Of the four visible exits, only three were manned, but the fourth behind her led back into the elevator which would only take her from here to the engineering walkway that led back to her cell in an unused habitat wing. Still, she could arc, run them a merry chase, stall them while she thought of a way to reach another hangar, maybe steal a transport or at least contact the Shadowstar. Drenno would be hurting more than the others, but Angela didn’t believe they would abandon her. She looked sideways at Evayne, who was fixed on the Machine.

  “Why am I not restrained?” she asked, wondering when to make her move.

  Evayne half-turned. “Because you don’t need to be. My security field has your DNA in its database. There is nowhere you can hide from me, and nothing you can steal, hack or otherwise tamper with. Your hands are free, milla Strange. You are not.”

  Well. Shit.

  Angela sighed. “Are you going to at least tell me why I’m here?”

  Evayne eyed her for a moment before answering. “Iniir technology is catalysed by DNA, but it is based on two primary conduits: Radiance and Resonance. They derived power from light, using it for long-distance travel within solar systems; but sound, they discovered long ago, had even more uses. Resonance of the right frequency can pierce the fabric of reality, shake it apart. It is resonance that enables Phase-shifting and opens the way to Purespace, to travel further still. This machine is a resonator of such incredible power that it is able to focus the shift to one point and hold it. Simply put, it creates a stable gateway by warping matter, and holds it open. All it needs is the correct DNA to catalyse it.”

  “In the Dashaan on Seth, the murals called it a weapon. Seraph Guin described it as one too.”

  Evayne nodded. “It is both. Its secondary use targets multiple sources, in the tens of millions, with high-frequency resonance using DNA as a marker. It’s a genocide bomb, Earthborn, the most savage weapon ever devised. The Iniir used it to destroy the Hexen, all but one, and him they trapped with it, forcing him into Purespace with no way out.”

  “So I get in, you turn it on, and it lets this... Unavenged back into the galaxy?”

  “Precisely.”

  “I still don’t understand why you think you need him. Seems to me that you’re being played.”

  Evayne’s eyes darkened and she gritted her teeth. “Unity is what he promises. A way to govern, properly. Do you know how taxing it is to control five-hundred and fifty billion entities from one throne? I have fought too long and sacrificed too much to defer my rule to a lesser being. I care too much about the Reach and its people to hold us back from our shared Destiny.”

  Angela raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re in it for the power and money, then?”

  The Sceptress clenched her jaw, and fixed Angela with a cold look. “I am the most powerful woman in the galaxy. I am also the richest, by dint of that. You would be well advised to avoid angering me further.” She looked away. “The Unavenged offers peace and wisdom, and protection from whatever lies beyond the Rim. Since the Founders died, twenty years ago, not a single race has made a significant scientific advancement. Not one. Their death left us floating in the Void. Their technology is everywhere, yet we cannot use it. We have dissected it, tried to reverse engineer it, and we have failed. The Unavenged can harness that technology, reawaken it. Use it.”

  “And me?” Even as she asked the question and stepped away from the rail, Angela felt the Exethan guards moving closer to her, flanking her, as if following an unspoken order from the High Sceptress. Evayne herself turned around, resting the small of her back on the cold steel. The look in her eye was disturbing. Fanatical.

  “My Master has been locked within the Void for two millennia. Little of his physical form now remains. To bring him here fully, he will need a vessel.”

  Vessel.

  The word struck Angela in the stomach like a fist. The pain blossomed savagely in her chest and she almost staggered, but the Exethan seized her arms and held her up. She struggled against them, but their cold, spindly fingers held her tight. “What will happen to me? You’re going to kill me?”

  “You’ll die eventually, I would imagine,” Evayne replied blithely. “But you’ll die with a god within you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because of what you are. With your DNA, he will return to his full power in days. It’s ironic, considering your intended purpose. I told you the Iniir were arrogant, did I not?”

  “So you kill me!? What have I ever done to you?”

  Evayne laughed, the sound throaty and ruthlessly condescending. “Oh, child. I really had hoped you’d be more receptive to this.”

  “Well I’m happy to disappoint, you crazy fucking bitch!” Angela snarled. She prepared to arc, but as she did so she felt something cold touch her neck, followed by a sting of electricity that stiffened her limbs and restricted her breathing.

  “Highness!” Remnath called. “We are ready to begin.”

  Evayne composed herself, straightening her back and smoothing her blouse. She smiled at Angela with something that looked, perversely, like maternal compassion. Angela, genuinely terrified for the first time since her childhood, could only squirm against whatever force now held her rigid.

  The High Sceptress spun away. “Bring her,” she ordered, and as she descended the ramp into the hangar, she may as well have been fucking skipping. The Exethan carried Angela down the ramp. The Resonance Engine loomed above, black and gleaming, and from beneath it Angela would swear it pierced the hangar roof and tore a hole through the universe itself.

  “Put her inside,” Remnath bustled, gliding by her captors. “Quickly now. And carefully!”

  Angela felt herself pushed gently into the recess at the base of the Machine, and then the guards stood back. Varo, his eyes narrowed, kept his distance too. Only Evayne approached, arms outstretched. If she started chanting in tongues right now, Angela wouldn’t have been surprised. She watched Remnath as he ceremoniously glided to the bank of monitors and the huge cylinder that powered them. He gripped a narrow lever in the cylinder and looked to Evayne for approval.

  In that instant, Angela wanted nothing more than to return home, to wake in her bed and find that this was all a dream. She would drift downstairs, compelled by the smell of hot coffee, warm toast and sizzling bacon. She had already lost track of how long she had been away from Earth, but somehow she knew that today was Sunday. There would be cider on a Sunday, cider from sweet red apples, and Yorkshire Pudding, thick and crispy. Andrew had a nack for making it rise, and the beef would be so soft and delicate that it would try to crumble off the fork, held together by rich gravy and creamy mash. She had never appreciated Sunday dinners, and oddly all she could think about now was that she would never eat one again. She would never go home. She would die, out here, millions of miles from beef and gravy. The thought gave her a spark, a jolt, and for the briefest of moments she could move inside the force-field, she could wriggle her fingers, and she knew, she knew, she could break out if she tried. If she just tried.

  Remnath pulled the lever.

  CHAPTER 47

  ~A ROYAL PARDON~

  POWER THROBBED INSIDE the Resonance Engine, pulsing through the connected wires with an audible whum-whum-whum. Violet static sparked and writhed around the huge assembly, dragging Angela’s arms out wide like the G-Force in a flight chamber. Her arms buzzed with heat and pain, her back arched, her hairs stood out so rigidly she thought they might be torn from their follicles.

  Before her, Tess Evayne felt the pow
er coursing through her. She outstretched her arms to mirror Angela’s, and her mane of crimson hair rose from her head like a crest. Heat bloomed around the Machine, and there came a piercing whine on the very edge of hearing that dug needles of fire and ice into Angela’s flesh.

  “This is it, my girl!” Evayne yelled at her, her eyes wide, manic. “This is our destiny! I can feel him.”

  A sudden commotion on the edge of her senses caught Angela’s attention, and she struggled to even move her eyes to the left. When she did, she saw the Exethan scuttling around the bank of monitors as the red-clad Ri'in and Varo barked unheard orders. There was a sudden explosion of silence, and a strange kind of stillness enveloped the room. From within the incongruous bubble of serenity, Angela watched the world moving in slow motion, then all at once, the bubble burst. Angela sagged against the Machine.

  Was that it? She didn’t feel changed...

  Evayne, also half-prone, got to her feet. “What happened?” she demanded, close to rage. “What happened, Keeper?”

  Remnath appeared through a cloud of acrid smoke. “Something is not right, Highness. We are feeding power from this side, and we were detecting power from the Catalyst, but those two energy sources are supposed to unite—” he banged his hands together to emphasize his point, “—and ignite. Something is preventing that. Or, more specifically, the component that is intended to facilitate such synergy is missing.”

  Evayne gritted her teeth. “How did you manage to make such an oversight? We cannot afford to fail, Remnath!”

  “We have no manual, Majesty. No instructions to follow. We had components, lots of them, and our own good sense. We could not have foreseen a missing component. By all accounts it appeared complete, until we activated it. There is a converter of some kind missing. A core, perhaps. I need to run more diagnostics.”

  Evayne glared, swinging towards Angela. She looked about to speak, then suddenly threw her head back in a manic, growling, bitter parody of a laugh. Varo moved to her side. “What is it, Highness?”