by Chris Fox
"Eh, just doing what you pay me for," Edwards said, giving a robotic shrug that nearly unseated one of his guests. "But I was kind of a badass though, wasn't I? What'd you think, Sarge?"
"I'd give you an eight out of ten," Hannan replied, leaning against the bunker that contained the core. "It needed more flips, and at least one dead eye." She fished an energy bar from her pants, then tossed a second to Izzy. "Plus you screamed like a little girl. But, you know, it wasn't too bad."
They all shared a laugh at that, one that carried their collective relief at shared survival. Still, Nolan knew it wasn't over. They still needed to deal with Reid somehow.
"Where is Delta?" Nolan asked. He hadn't seen the big man since the first few seconds of combat.
"Good question," Hannan said, looking over one shoulder, then the other. "I haven't seen him since we got into the thick of it. Izzy, did you see anything?"
"I was focused on combat. It's possible he used his stealth belt to slip out during the fighting," Izzy said, licking the fur behind her right wrist, then going back to grooming.
"Captain Nolan," Manda interrupted, hopping onto the bunker a few feet away. Her concern was evident, and the surviving Primo picked up on it immediately. Gone were the smiles, replaced by grim determination once more. "Your harvester has just lifted off and is leaving the system." She waved a hand, and a hologram sprang up in the air over the bunker.
Nolan's arms slowly fell to his sides as he watched the vessel pull away. He winced as the Forge fired at his ship--or what had been his ship. Then he remembered Kathryn was safe. The shots went wide, and the harvester easily made it away and beelined for the Helios Gate.
"Atrea," Nolan asked, turning to face the wizened woman. She'd just entered the room, flanked by a trio of tiny Primo in white robes. "Is there any way to order the Helios Gate to lock out that harvester?"
"Not that I am aware of," Atrea said, shaking her head sadly.
"You ordered the Gate to obey that vessel?" Manda said, hands clenched and trembling. She gritted her teeth when she spoke. "If that vessel leaves with the Helios Gate, it will go directly to the Eye, and the Gorthians will subvert it for their own uses. The Eye will invade the Birthplace with a massive fleet, all because you broke the safeguards we put into place."
Nolan couldn't blame her for being angry, and the implications staggered him. He stared at the hologram, powerless to intervene. The harvester entered the Helios Gate's protective field, disappearing from sight, then the Gate began to accelerate away.
Chapter 41- Boom
Reid knew the battle was turning against him. Many of the defenders were down, but the renegade Alpha had effectively broken his rush. He didn't have enough forces for another one.
He could join the fray more fully, and probably overwhelm the defenders--it was unlikely they could kill him--and had he still been human, that was likely the course of action he would have pursued.
But he was more now. So much more. Reid understood time in a way no human ever could. His perceptions were vast, his understanding pulled from billions of consciousnesses, all consumed by the Eye that had spawned him. There was a chance he could die here. Even if it was small, it was to be avoided at any cost. His primary directive was preserving his own life. In fifty thousand years, he'd still be growing, still be propagating the Gorthians throughout galaxy after galaxy--but not if he died here.
So Reid fled. He turned from the battle, ordering the last of his Judicators into a final holding action. His bulbous body shot up a corridor and zipped toward the hangar. He activated his communication organ, ordering the harvester to start its engines. It had to be ready to take off as soon as he reached it.
The cavernous hangar stood empty before him, no sign of any Primo. There had been some possibility that the Primo would have split their forces and left a contingent here to guard the ship and prevent his escape, but he saw no such sign, and as he glided up the ship's ramp he detected no evidence of any tampering. It was possible some had slipped inside to set an ambush, but that too seemed unlikely.
Were he the commander of the enemy forces, he'd have arrayed them all at the core. The Primo had to know what would happen if Reid learned their secrets. The Eye would also know it, thus delivering the means to speed their domination of the universe.
"Ship, get us out of here. Contact the Helios Gate, use the interface to order it back to the star we came from," Reid ordered, drifting through the hangar. The bridge was the most defensive part of the vessel, so he made for that. As he passed the empty corridors, a troubling possibility emerged. The Gate had been ordered to listen to this vessel, but what if that directive had changed or expired? Reid would be trapped in the Birthplace, easy for the Forge to hunt down.
The engines rumbled as the ship lifted from the deck. Reid willed his senses into the ship's sensors, monitoring them as it departed. The harvester passed through the airlock, then sped from the Forge. It grew larger and larger, filling his field of view on that side. Cannons began swiveling in their direction, but they were sluggish.
"Evasive maneuvers," Reid ordered. The ship obeyed instantly, dodging several clumsy blasts. He watched as the Forge began to dwindle, his relief more muted than it would have been as a human. He watched as they moved toward the Gate, tensing as he waited for the Gate's reaction.
He sensed its acquiescence, and was relieved again as the Gate moved to envelop them. Then it accelerated for the golden horizon lining the edge of the Dyson sphere. Reid still thought of it that way, despite the fact that humanity was the seven hundred and forty-second recorded species to have discovered the concept.
"Hello, Reid," a voice said from behind him. A panel clattered to the floor as a figure climbed from an air vent.
Reid whirled, his pupil widening as he identified the speaker. It was subject Delta, the man who'd once been Captain Edison. Delta carried no weapon, and his hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his cargo pants. He seemed unconcerned about Reid, which was puzzling. Reid spun off several dozen thoughtlines, but none provided a satisfying answer. The only conclusion that made sense was that Delta believed he could somehow kill Reid. Without a weapon, that was impossible. What did the man hope to gain?
"Hello, Delta," Reid said, drifting closer. He knew the answer, but asked the question anyway. "Have you come back to the fold then? To serve me?"
"Nah," Delta said, giving a very white smile. His chrome eyes were surrounded by laugh lines. The man could not have looked more different than he had under Reid's employ. Interesting. "I'm happy to see what you became, Reid. Now your outer body really matches the inner. You're a monster. You sold out your race, and now you're going to get your justice."
"How?" Reid asked, mirthfully. He drifted closer to the impertinent human. "There's nothing you can do to harm me. I am impervious to plasma fire, and to all conventional human weaponry."
"Yeah," Delta said. He pulled a hand from a pocket.
Reid's gaze focused on what Delta held--a small black cylinder with a red sigil on the top. It could be a detonator of some sort, if it were human. It wasn't, though. Reid recognized Primo technology when he saw it, so he shifted the spectrum of light he was viewing. His pupil widened again when he recognized the device.
"Yeah, that's right," Delta said softly. "You know what this is now, don't you? Goodbye, Doctor Reid."
Then he pressed the button.
Reid had an eternity to contemplate it, spinning off thousands of thoughtlines as he sought any way to survive. There was none. The device hummed, then burst into a black ball. It crackled with intense energy, sucking Delta away in an eye blink. Then the micro-singularity expanded. Reid felt a moment's weightlessness, then nothing.
He didn't feel the wave of energy that pulled the entire harvester into the same singularity, crushing it instantly.
Chapter 42- Caught Napping
Fizgig turned around on her bed, then turned around again. It took three tries to find a comfortable spot, and she gave a co
ntented purr as she settled into the mound of pillows. The days had been getting longer, and no matter how many fires she doused there were always five more waiting. She longed to set the burdens down, but there was no one else to take them up.
Khar had proven too impetuous, his transformation into an Alpha rippling through the Tigris forces. Dozens of warriors had followed suit, then hundreds. The old and wounded were only a small fraction. Many were warriors in their prime, who simply wanted an advantage in the battle. The fact that they were giving up their ability to sire offspring didn't seem to bother them in the least.
Izzy was coming along nicely, but she was still inexperienced. Time with Nolan would help remedy that, and he could teach her things even Fizgig could not. She expected that Izzy would one day be her successor, and had the potential to be a greater leader than Fizgig ever could.
The snowy-furred cat was quiet and reserved, but she was intelligent, and acted swiftly. She'd shown signs of cunning, and was an excellent sniper. Her piloting skills were top-notch. The only area she'd not yet mastered was command, and that would come in time.
Fizgig cracked an eye, staring balefully at the door. Her ear twitched, straining to pick up the approaching footsteps. They were unhurried, someone coming to deliver a message perhaps. That irked her, as she'd given instructions not to be disturbed for the next six hours. She needed her rest, now more than ever.
The footsteps grew closer, and Fizgig tensed. The steps were furtive, slowing as they approached. That could mean one of two things. Either it was a subordinate justifiably afraid of waking a superior who'd left orders not to be disturbed, or it was an assassin. The latter possibility was unlikely, but Fizgig was still alive because she planned for the unlikely.
Both eyes opened, and Fizgig rose soundlessly from her pillows. Her plasma rifle was within reach, but she left it atop the pillow. If this were an attack, it would be close quarters work. That meant the plasma blade was the most efficient weapon.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, and three polite scratches sounded. Exactly what she'd expect of a subordinate. Fizgig threw back the bolt, and pulled the door open a crack. She kept it wedged closed with one foot, her body weight resting on her rear leg in case she needed to retreat.
The figure was dark-furred. A Jaguara, but not full-blooded. That impurity was probably what had driven the woman to join Pride Fizgig. Fizgig recognized her on sight, but couldn't recall her name, so she waited until the woman spoke.
But the woman didn't speak. Instead, a pistol came up. It was of human design, and Fizgig knew immediately what it was. A tranquilizer, a silent weapon that could render her unconscious.
Not dead; unconscious. There was only one reason for her enemies to keep her alive, and that was to turn her.
Fizgig ignited her plasma blade, shifting behind the door. Something thunked into the metal on the other side, right where her chest had been a moment before. The door was kicked open, the force launching her into the room. Fizgig tumbled across her bed, pillows scattering as she scrambled to her feet.
Her assailant had already entered the room, already lining up another shot. Fizgig lashed her tail to the left, elated when it drew the Jaguara's gaze. She used that distraction to hook her right foot under the nightstand, flinging it at her opponent. The Jaguara was quick, easily ducking the hastily thrown furniture, but the tactic bought Fizgig time.
She glided forward, slashing low at her opponent's belly. As expected, the Jaguara hopped backward to evade. That move forced her into the corner, with a war chest on one side and a dresser on the other. She now lacked the room to maneuver.
Fizgig leapt into the air, seizing her exercise bar in one hand. She used her momentum to swing her feet up, catching the pistol and knocking it away. Then she released the bar and dropped, bringing her humming plasma blade down in a wicked slash. The Jaguara was good; the instant she lost the pistol she reached for a knife belted at her side, and somehow got that dagger up to block.
Fizgig's plasma blade sliced through the metal, the force of her descent carrying the weapon to its intended target. It caught the Jaguara in the eye, and Fizgig rammed it forward into her skull. Her opponent collapsed, a spray of greenish blood drenching Fizgig's fur.
"Ugg," she said, flicking her foot in agitation. The movement flung most of the greenish blood into the wall, but she'd still need to bathe later.
Fizgig raised her blade defensively, keeping an eye on the body as she moved to the door. She closed it carefully, listening for other assailants. Nothing. They'd only sent one. Fizgig smiled grimly. That had been a mistake.
She knelt next to the corpse, checking the Jaguara's pockets. She found a tiny vial, clear with a black plastic top; within, a pale green-yellow larva wriggled . Fizgig rose to her feet, moving to stand before the view screen on the far side of her quarters. "Computer, execute connection alpha-bravo-two."
A human Quantum logo appeared, pulsing for long moments while Fizgig waited. It was possible that Nolan was unable to speak, but this news couldn't wait. After 10 seconds the logo disappeared, and asked if she'd like to leave a message.
"They've made their move. I've foiled the attack, and recovered a larva," Fizgig said, staring at the blank screen. "If they have a way to reach you, they'll act soon. Either way, Dryker and Celendra are both in danger. After a moment's consideration, she spoke again. "This is why you must be diligent in your training, Nolan. I know humanity doesn't value hand-to-hand combat, but when they strike, only you will be able to prevent the unthinkable. Continue your training, Nolan. Be ready when your foes come in the night."
Chapter 43- Didn't See That Coming
"Admiral?" a voice cut through sleep, and Dryker jerked erect in his bunk. Something pounded on the door. "Can you hear me?"
It was Juliard, and she sounded panicked. Dryker tossed off his blanket and swung his legs from the bed. Out of habit, he picked up his sidearm from the nightstand--one of the new plasma pistols the Primo were manufacturing from Void Wraith tech. He held it at his side, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he approached the door. He was groggy, and having trouble shaking it off--more than usual. It felt like he'd been drinking, though he hadn't given in to that particular vice in months.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Dryker slurred, tugging the door open. He blinked blearily at her, trying to understand what was happening.
Juliard raised her sidearm, and shot him in the chest. Dryker staggered back, pain flaring where the round had struck. He toppled to the floor, struggling to pull himself to his feet. His arms felt weak, his weight impossible to sustain. He collapsed against the bed, his traitorous body refusing to rise. Paralyzed, he realized with horror that the gun hadn't fired a conventional round.
"I'm sorry about this, sir. I really am," Juliard offered, kneeling next to him. She fished in her pocket, withdrawing a tiny cylinder. "I don't have a choice though. You'll understand in a moment."
She raised the cylinder to his face, opening the top just under his nose. Something cold and slimy inched across his upper lip, and he gave a muffled scream as it crawled into his nose. His limbs refused to respond. He was powerless to stop the parasite--that had to be what it was. They hadn't done extensive research, but he'd reviewed the scans from Kathryn Mendez. The same thing that had happened to her, and her father before her, was happening to him.
The parasite made its way into his nasal cavity, slithering toward his brain. There was a moment's pressure, and then all pain faded. A blissful calm came over Dryker, and he relaxed. He could feel something indescribable spreading slowly through his head and down his spine. It was warm, and rather pleasant.
"It will be over in a moment. The unpleasant part is past," Juliard said. She paused, biting her lip. "I know you're probably wondering how this happened. The day before we left the Primo ship, Celendra came on me while I was sleeping. She's stronger than she looks, probably because of the parasite. She held me down and, well...you can guess what happened. She gave me a parasite
and told me to wait for the signal to give it to you. Our masters just gave me that signal."
Dryker's mind began to wander, a malaise settling over him. He was dimly aware of the consequences, of what this would do to humanity. Having both Celendra and himself implanted would doom the defense efforts for both species. If they were able to implant Fizgig as well, their resistance would effectively be over.
"There we go," Juliard said, helping Dryker into a sitting position. "Motor control should start to return now. You'll be able to stand in a moment. How do you feel?"
Dryker sobbed. The enormity of what had just been done to him was too much, especially after the weight of recent months. Humanity couldn't survive too many more blows, and he knew he was in a unique position to deal just such a blow.
"Indeed." A powerful voice spoke inside his head. "And that is exactly what you shall do. You will pass the following order to the human government, then repeat it to every convoy you've created: they are all to return to Earth for a final defense. Every vessel is needed. We are pulling together. We have found a path to victory."
The trap was ingenious. It would doom humanity, allow them all to be picked off at once. Dryker rose to his feet, turning to Juliard. He was a prisoner, watching as the larva moved him like a puppet. "I'm going to need you to send several messages."
Chapter 44- Hunger
The Eye's hunger had grown, eclipsing all other needs. Its cycle was close, and if it could harvest enough genetic material it could begin the next evolution. The morsels it had consumed until now had been enough to forestall the hunger, but only briefly.
While the Eye's hunger was paramount, it was still monitoring hundreds of thousands of thoughtlines. Those had a hierarchy, and it lent more attention to one group in particular.
