Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  “Tsuu? What are you doing here?”

  The mechamorph sighed. He was not quite done with words after all. “I just need a moment with Mahryn. There’s a minor problem with the nav-station I neglected to share earlier at shift change. I’ll just be a moment.” He crossed to his fellow mechamorph.

  “What’s wrong?” Mayryn asked.

  Tsuu leaned over him.

  Mayryn said, “This is not a good time for distractions.”

  Tsuu knew what he meant; Ashere was expected to send the trigger command at any time now. The mechamorph navigators on all League ships would then download the new cyber-virus into the main computers. The whole fleet would be crippled. Tsuu knew what that meant, imminent extinction of all Ashere’s enemies: the planet below, its Guardian, and the League Fleet ships here if necessary. He could see it in his mind—cities falling in blazing ruin, as the world becomes a lifeless monument to boundless ambition.

  “Some things transcend duty,” Tsuu said.

  Mayryn’s gaze reflected a vague flicker of curiosity. “What are you saying?”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Where are you going?” Mayryn asked.

  “Nowhere.” Tsuu’s right hand flattened, becoming a blade with a razor-sharp edge. It sunk into Mayryn’s chest. He gasped in shock, a final heartbeat away from pain. It came, sweeping across Mayryn’s face as Tsuu withdrew his hand, leaving a strangely bloodless crater behind that began to fill in with silver-white ooze.

  Mayryn spat a single word. “Traitor!”

  Tsuu had Mayryn’s core in hand. The core was filled with the new virus. The pattern of sentiency within it became hopelessly scrambled. Tsuu said, “I don’t know what difference this one ship can make, but Ashere must be defied by someone.”

  There was a stunned silence. Then, chaos erupted on the bridge. Screams and curses filled the air as crewmembers found their feet.

  “Restrain than man!” the XO ordered.

  Tsuu looked at the hematite core in his hand. It was glossy black, an empty sphere where a mechamorph soul had once been. The cellular composition fell apart for both core and Mayryn’s body. Both puddled on the deck.

  “I’m sorry,” Tsuu said. His will to vengeance deserted him, returning at last to his box, and Tsuu embraced his emptiness. It was all he had left.

  The bridge team leaped on him and carried him to the deck.

  “That is not really necessary,” he said.

  The XO had one of his arms pinned down, a hand weapon pointed at his face. Tsuu could have morphed free, but didn’t. The XO knew this too. His body relaxed slightly as bellowed into Tsuu’s ear.

  “What in Space-Time do you think you’re doing?”

  “It was necessary,” Tsuu said. “If you will just let me explain a few things…”

  * * *

  Commander Hardrune heard a tiny, metallic ping; his personal comm. He reached up to the post behind his ear and activated the earring device. “What is it?”

  “Condition Mauve, Sir. We have a fleet-wide Emergency. We need the Light Born back here at once! All other ships have been disabled by a cyber-virus. Ashere is asking for our unconditional surrender, or she’ll start blasting the helpless ships. If it comes to a fight, there are too many vulnerable League ships for us to protect.”

  “Engage her with every weapon you’ve got,” Hardrune advised. “You just have to buy us enough time to get there. We will deal with Ashere. Hardrune out.”

  He knew the rest of the Light Born had monitored the call. He felt a common question among them all. He sent a command blazing along the link they shared: No time to wait for the Guardian’s return. We must act now or Ashere will destroy our ships and this world, and there will be nothing left for Max to come back to.

  He thundered the traditional summons to battle. “LIGHT UP!” The Light Born ignited with a common fire. Max’s bedroom was choked with a hard gold radiance. Phasing, locked in formation, they streaked through the ceiling. Hardrune led them in a climb toward orbit, knowing enemy weapons were probably being turned their way that very moment.

  EIGHTEEN

  Ashere’s attendants were off, manning combat station, or attending to other duties. She was alone, tapping a steel boot on the deck of the audience hall, standing well away from her throne. Her voice stabbed the processed air. “Miiiitron!” Her echoes subsided, as she waited for him to appear. He would not surprise her with his appearing this time.

  She opened her mouth—prepared to vent another summons—when a quiet voice made her turn.

  “Yes, my queen.”

  “Must you continually approach me from unseen vectors?” She crinkled her brow with disapproval. How are you doing that anyway? She wondered.

  He started to answer, she waved his explanation away. “Never mind. Has the Fist-of-Peace surrendered yet?”

  “No. They are determined to die at our hands.”

  Ashere released a mock-sigh of regret. “Very well. Go accommodate them.”

  “Yes, my queen. But they have found some way of shielding against our sub-space slide. I will need to engage the ship rather than board it.”

  “Mitron…?”

  “Yes, my queen?”

  “We’ve known each other a very long time. You may call me ‘Your Majesty In Glory.’”

  “Thank you. I am…most honored.”

  “Also,” she said, “I do not need to hear of your difficulties. Can you deliver the vessel to me, or not?”

  “It shall be done.” He bowed and teleported away, leaving a pocket of vacuum to stir the air as it filled the hole.

  Ashere returned to her throne and seated herself. She touched a crystal set in her right armrest. Holographic control boards shimmered into place before her. She opened a channel to her main computer. “Give me an external visual.”

  “Working.” A photonic sheet swept across the deck. It appeared to turn translucent, a massive window into space. Ashere saw the dark side of the moon in one corner, rimmed by sunlight. League ships swarmed the rest of the star field. They were drifting, powerless except for life support.

  She smiled.

  Ashere had tailored the computer virus well, wanting to disable but not destroy. That would have been squandering her resources. Once the necklace was hers again, these ships would be hers as well. The League knew better than to oppose the power of the Star. When she had it, her word would become cosmic law. Ashere increased her smiled to the too-wide version. She was close enough to victory to taste it.

  As she studied the display, her eyes narrowed. Her smile faded. How was the Fist-of-Peace still under power, dodging her weapons’ fire? The League ship’s emitters battered her yacht’s defensive screens. Her ship shuddered under the assault. “You will not defy me for long,” she vowed.

  There was a half-shell swirl of light as Mitron teleported to a point just outside of the Fist-of-Peace’s shields. His body erupted with self-assembling armor. A helmet covered his head. A single obsidian horn protruding above the eyes. His feet enlarged, becoming steel claws, as he sprouted a second set of arms from his torso. A barbed tail grew from the base of his spine. It curved up high over his head, ending in an emitter array, the barb itself.

  “Mitron,” Ashere spoke softly to herself, “I love the up-grade. You should dress this way more often.”

  She reopened a channel to the master computer. “Is the particle cannon on-line yet?”

  “Proto-type weapon is charging. Power level is minimal, insufficient still for assigned purpose of splitting the planet.”

  “Is there enough of a charge built up to take out Hardrune’s precious ship?”

  “Probability of success is low.”

  Ashere shrugged. “Let’s give it a try anyway. Shunt power to the main emitter. Engage injectors—feed particle streams into the carrier beam.”

  Ashere’s avid gaze clung to floor display. She watched as a pale blue column of hyperactive photons bored across space, latching onto the target. The light shaft thic
kened. Its core became a vortex, a smudge of violet particles. The beam hammered through the outer defensive screens. Several flared and died. The last went down, and the beam punched into the ship’s plating before flickering out.

  Ashere snarled, slamming both fists into the arms of her throne. “Computer! What happened? I wanted that ship sliced in half.”

  “The weapon has expended all of its power and must be recharged.”

  “Do it, and move us out from behind this accursed moon. When the particle weapon is fully charged, it will be time to kill a few billion people. Mitron can deal with the League ship. I have greater fun in mind.”

  The scene on the floor shifted. The moon held the center of the display, swelling in size as the view magnified. A digital image was super-imposed over the moon, a targeting grid of concentric bands. As minutes dragged on, the moon appeared to drift off-center though it was actually the yacht that was moving so slowly.

  Perhaps I should not have wasted so much power on a useless shot.

  The Earth began to show itself, just a sliver of blue and white at the moon’s edge.

  “Soon,” Ashere promised. “Soon…”

  * * *

  Tsuu studied the mechamorph warrior on the view screen, as the rest of the bridge crew handled damage control, trying to bring shields and emitters on-line. The Fist-of-Peace was helpless.

  He’ll teleport in to finish us off now that our shields are down, Tsuu realized. I must act if there’s to be any hope of vengeance.

  He rose from his chair. His body acquiring a metallic sheen as its surface rippled. He developed a segmented layer of armor for a second skin. Spikes protruded all over him. His fists swelled. His fingers fused. His hands became knobby globes. Inside him, he fabricated the parts for a small but powerful electric generator. It came on line. The maces that hung from his wrists became wreathed in blue fire.

  He heard the XO’s voice behind him. “Tsuu! What in space do you think you’re doing?”

  “At best, avenging my father. At worst, trading my life for time you desperately need to bring the experimental sub-space barrier on line.”

  “Do what you can,” the XO said.

  “Always,” Tsuu wore no expression as he faded in a half-shell swirl of red light.

  From his vantage point, the bridge blurred, replaced by a red void, pricked by pale pink star points. The red swirl around him vanished and the void turned black.

  Mitron was immediately before him.

  Tsuu knew he’d have no chance at all if he hesitated. Vents opened in his back. Thrusters flared, slamming him forward. He swung both fists upward. They were deflected by Mitron’s armored torso, but he was flung backwards and stunned by the high current.

  I’ve got to keep the pressure on. Can’t relent, or he’ll tear me apart.

  Tsuu aimed the mace that was his right hand. The knobs on it lengthened, emerging from hollow sockets as a thick spread of micro-missiles. They curved sharply in flight, homing in on Mitron’s energy signature. The missiles had small distance to cover since Tsuu’s thrusters kept him near Mitron’s tumbling body. Explosions briefly obscured the mechamorph warrior.

  Tsuu pressed in, morphing his left arm into a plasma torch. It belched a white-hot solar wind. His right arm transmuted into a vibrating blade of titanium-steel. He sliced at Mitron, determined to split his hematite core as his enemy dealt with the plasma flare.

  Mitron’s left pair of arms swung up, creating an angle that deflected the sword. In the process, a long strip of armor was peeled away. The wound welled with silvery ooze that hardened, reforming the missing strip.

  Tsuu’s attack carried him into grappling range. He sprouted tentacles from his chest. One of them burst open, becoming a huge talon that reached for Mitron’s head, trying to rip it off. The other tentacles coiled around Mitron’s extra arms, but strangely, the warrior smiled with pleasure.

  He’s enjoying this! Tsuu realized. He’s only playing with me!

  All of their limbs tangled, tying them together in a straining, writhing knot as they tumbled through space. Mitron broke the deadlock with a head butt. The obsidian horn on his helmet pierced Tsuu’s chest. As it grazed his hematite core, the horn’s tip split into pliant sections, becoming a claw. It seized the suspended core, and withdrew, tattering Tsuu’s chest.

  Tsuu shuddered. A numbing wave dissolved his thought. His body turned into metallic gel. The cold of space crystallized his inorganic compounds, hardening him into a smooth blob of silver ice. Mitron’s piston-driven fist drove into him, and Tsuu shattered into a trillion gem-like pieces.

  * * *

  They were gone. Nobody splashed through her primal substance any longer. But Twila had no will to assume form. There was no desire to drive her. Thought hurt, so she avoided it, praying for oblivion. She grew pissed at Death because he would not claim her. Finally, she realized that someone was speaking to her from outside the room’s doorway. The vibrations stirred her inorganic substance like a gentle wind. Fear stirred in what was left of her heart. Part of her knew who it was. That part was flayed by joy and terror. She formed a stalk, lifting it into the air. Its tip swelled. An eye formed, swiveling towards the hallway. A familiar figure filled the doorframe.

  Tommy!

  She started to withdraw the eyestalk.

  “Wait!” he called. “Please, talk to me.”

  She hesitated. Warring within her against despair and self-loathing, hope was sharp-edged, worse than any other pain. The eyestalk sank into the metallic mire. Her human face re-formed, a mask adrift on a silver sea. She opened her eyes as her face rose a few feet in the air atop a small glistening mound. Twila tilted her face, devouring his image.

  “You must hate me.” Twila said. “I tried to kill your sister.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve come close to that a few times myself. Max can be a real pain sometimes. By the way, where’d she go?”

  “I…don’t know.” She collapsed the mound that supported her features.

  “Oh, well, she’ll turn up eventually. Hey, where are you going?” Tommy entered the room, stopping a few feet from the edge of the sludgy mass.

  Her drifting face began to lose definition. “This is my real form. Don’t you find it…ugly?”

  He kneeled, extending a hand. He touched the quivering mass before him. It was warm and slick, thick globs slipping through his fingers. “Ugly? Why no, Jell-O has always been one of my favorite…uh…things. This doesn’t bother me—too much.” He grinned weakly. “I mean I’m sure I’ll get used to it—one day.”

  “Really?” A tidal effect seemed in operation. The edges of Twila’s gelatinous mass retreated toward its center. A sludge-spout spiraled upward into a column. It compressed into human dimensions with female curves. The base split into two separate legs. Arms swung out from the upper half. Her outer skin paled to an alabaster white, except for the part that simulated the folds of normal human clothing. Her feet were bare. Her head sprouted filaments that turned a shade of violet nearly black. She created violet pigment in her eyes, a much lighter shade than her hair.

  Hesitantly, Twila forced herself to take a few small steps toward Tommy. She scanned his face, searching for suppressed loathing.

  He met her glance. She saw he was uncomfortable with her now, though he fought to show her openness and acceptance. She came closer to him. He managed a warming smile.

  “Do you think…?” She fell abruptly silent.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think you can ever love something such as me?”

  He leaned in. His eyes were inches away. She felt his breath against her face. He closed his eyes. His jaw knotted. Twila sensed he fought some terrible battle within himself. Whatever the issue, he seemed to resolve it.

  His hand came up. He traced the soft curve of her face with his thumb. His hand slid to the back of her head. His fingers lost themselves in her hair as he pulled her face to his. His lips were warm on her own; a soft promise inviting a response.

/>   Twila closed her eyes, pressing her body against Tommy’s. After an all-too-short span the kiss ended. Twila opened her eyes to find Tommy’s usual grin fixed firmly on his face.

  “You can be my girlfriend, but just don’t ever beat me up in public, okay?”

  “I promise.” She made it a solemn vow.

  Tommy’s face creased with worry. “So, what’s going on, Twila? What’s happening?”

  “There’s a good chance your planet will soon be destroyed. Ashere’s making her move.”

  “My God!” Tommy’s face paled. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I can save you,” Twila said. “I can get you off-world before it happens. We can lose ourselves in the stars and never look back.”

  “But my world, my family…”

  “There’s not much I can do about them.”

  “I—I can’t do it, Twila. I can’t just run off and save myself while the whole planet…” He fell silent. His jaw knotted, as his gaze hardened. He pushed her away. “Go. Save yourself. Whatever my planet’s fate, I will share it.”

  “No!” Twila’s arms turned rubbery, elongating. She trapped Tommy in their coils. I will save you, even if I must do so by force.”

  Twila watched a brief anger redden his face. Just as quickly, the emotion drained away. The stare he turned on her was piercing. “You might as well let me go. You can save this body, but not the heart and soul driving it. Later, I may still look alive to you, but if my world dies, I will die as well.”

  Twila could scarcely credit what she heard, but looking into Tommy’s face, she knew he spoke the truth.

  Damn organics.

  Slowly, she released him, a strange madness settling into her thoughts. An appalling strength possessed her, charging every inorganic cell of her being. “Even if I die, you will have the life you deserve. I will see to it.”

  “What are you talking about?”