Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  “Only one option remains if you and your world are to be saved. Ashere must die.” She smiled, radiating the full force of her love. Her arms shortened, flattening, turning bright silver. She raised sword shaped limbs in salute, an avatar of war. She felt the aching loss of all her dreams, but didn’t care. That extra pain would fuel her resolve. “Say goodbye to Max and your mom for me. Remember me, my love. Keep it with you always in the box of your human heart.”

  A red swirl of light enclosed her. She began to thin out.

  Tommy lunged, trying to catch her, his face distorted by fear. He passed through her like she was just a mirage. He fell onto Max’s bed, slid, flipped over, and landed standing on the far side.

  “No, Twila, throwing your life away won’t change anything. Don’t…!”

  She was nearly gone. Her voice echoed, strangely distorted. “I must do this, my love. What other choice have you left me?”

  NINETEEN

  Angling past the moon, Commander Hardrune and the Light Born streaked among drifting League ships. Ashere had clipped their wings but the hawks of space would soar again. Hardrune felt pride on behalf of his civilization for such rapacious beauty. By comparison, Ashere’s ship was uninspired in line and form, a simple cylinder swelling into bulbs at both ends.

  The bulb pointing toward the earth had an immense iris-port that yawned open, a hungry maw choked with shadow. Hardrune didn’t like the look of it. His intuition screamed for attention. He told it to shut while he called the Fist-of-Peace. “Captain Raio, be careful. Ashere’s got some new weapon unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve got reports from the other ships she used it on. Their shields were extinguished instantly.”

  “By what?” he asked.

  “A carrier beam of some kind with a semi-phased matter stream core.”

  A cold chill slid down his spine as he realized the weapon was locked onto the Earth. The Terrans had nothing that could stand up to it. Their cities would fall in flaming ruin. The loss of life would be staggering. If he ever expected to look Max in the eyes again, he couldn’t let it happen. Hardrune ended the call, and opened mental channels to the rest of the Light Born, seizing their attention.

  My friends, you heard. We are at the crossroads of destiny where duty calls. I don’t know if we’ll survive, but I have to believe we’ll make a difference. Join limbs, hearts, and minds with me. We must create a circuit to hold the full expression of our power. I just pray it’s enough.

  Floating close together in space, the various manipulating limbs of the Light Born meshed together. They forged a living chain before the prow of Ashere’s ship. In sync, the Light Born delved deep, turning out every last erg. The soft gold glow around them intensified. They strobed, building levels never attempted before.

  Hardrune sighed in his spirit, thinking of Queen Oshira. I guess we just weren’t meant to outlive the Guardian who first called us to service.

  His flesh grow feverish. The animal part of his brain tweaked his system with a flood of hormones that quickened his heart and triggered a simultaneous firing of all inactive muscle strands. He felt radically alive while approaching his extinction. Life and death became a unified concept. He lost track of his individuality in the wild eddies of communal power.

  Suddenly, all their power was needed. The Light Born were rocked. The impact made Hardrune think of being sideswiped by a planet. Ashere’s ship seemed to dwindle, as a blue-violet beam hammered the Light Born backwards. Their link swarmed with gyrating thoughts coming from everyone and no one.

  Hold steady!

  Not…sure we can.

  Beam’s power…climbing…

  We’re not going to be able…

  …to turn it…back.

  Only buying time.

  Stress…growing…

  …intolerable!

  Hardrune felt the minds in the link stunned, drawing apart. He pulled a hymn from memory, and flung it out along the attenuating link: Forsaking shadows, we feed our hearts into the flame. The sword…the sword…

  He faltered. The group’s glow went ragged, but the others took up the hymn. The invocation claimed him again. The sword is our call; the star, its invocation!

  Their golden fire strengthened. Hardrune fed it his own lifeforce, knowing the others were doing the same without being asked. Like some mystic incantation, the hymn held them to their purpose at the very edge of death.

  We empty our souls, casting our dreams into the fire. The ashes shall yield…an abundance of hope…

  * * *

  Leaning forward, Ashere’s eyes greedily devoured the scene on her holographic floor. Her too-wide smile in place, she excitedly beat the armrests of her throne with her fists. This is a moment to be shared. Besides, I can use a festive drink. Without taking her eyes off the screen, Ashere screamed for service. “Computer, send me my personal servitors.”

  There was a brief pause. Then, synthetic tones of the computer reached her. “Your command has been executed, my queen.”

  Ashere didn’t hear the response. Her body went rigid, seized up with shock. Her mind stalled in surprise, as a red half-shell of light appeared, blocking her view. A female shadow solidified at its core.

  Ashere’s mind shifted back into gear as she recognized the new arrival: Mitron’s younger sister. “Twila! Why are you here? Never mind. Get off my view screen, I’m missing my show.”

  “I renounce my allegiance, and have sworn to save this planet from you.”

  “Really?” Ashere rose with a fluid grace. Her voice soft and fuzzy, belying the mountain of rage in her heart. “I applaud your courage, child, but not your common sense. Are you sure you want to anger me?”

  “I must!”

  Ashere took a slow step forward, feigning innocuousness, as her curved fingers lengthened into knives. “Because of Mitron, I am willing to spare you.”

  As if.

  She took a couple of baby steps, gathering a little more speed. “If you run now, very quickly,” She entered striking range, “and hide yourself well…” She pounced, screeching her words, “Oh, my, too late!”

  But she missed. It was inconceivable. The mechamorph girl angled out of harm’s way. Ashere plunged past and landed in a sprawl. An enemy blade entered point-first into her chest, grazing her core. Silver fluids dribbled down the sword, staining the deck.

  She beat my speed by being compressed in her movements. I don’t recognize the fighting style. Something she learned on this planet, I think.

  Ashere willed her upper torso into a pulpous state, so she could safely spin off the blade without damage. She forced herself to her feet. Her left hand became a mace bristling with tiny pyramids. She used it in a blind sweep of the space behind her, fending off any immediate follow-up attack.

  The mace rebounded off a buckler that Twila shaped from her left arm. She fell back, jarred by the impact. Twila spoke without passion, as if simply passing the time of day. “My blow should have killed you. Why are you still alive?”

  Ashere abandoned the momentum she’d built up in the fight. She couldn’t help taking time to explain her cleverness. “Though our cores are customarily carried in the center of our mass for greatest safety, they don’t have to stay there. I was moving mine as you struck. Had you been half a second faster…”

  The stolen moment allowed Twila to morph her right hand, up-grading sword to energy weapon. Twila fired. A thin blue beam hung between her and Ashere. An ion field deflected the charge. Ashere had used the same moment to assemble a shield generator inside her. She flashed her too-wide grin, knowing well its disabling effect on others.

  “Predictability is the only vice I try to avoid,” Ashere said. “If only you had Mitron’s gift for catching me unaware… Well, at least you are entertaining me.”

  Feet clattered on the deck. There was a murmur of whispering voices. They were no longer alone. Servitors were streaming into the room, enclosing them in silent ranks, laden w
ith trays, jeweled goblets, and inorganic canapés.

  Ah, good! Ashere decided. I’m working up a thirst.

  “This isn’t working,” Twila commented. “Time to run away.” She glanced down at the view-screen floor, smiling at a private thought. “I might not be able to stop you, but I know someone who can.” A red half-shell of light enveloped her. She faded to shadow and popped out.

  “And I did so want to kill her.” Ashere gestured for a beverage. Drink in-hand, she strolled over to Twila’s last position. The queen stared down as well. She crushed her cup, splattering its contents everywhere. Servitors scurried forward with pseudo-organic sponges to conquer the spill.

  “It’s the Guardian with my necklace,” Ashere raged. “She’s trying to escape Mitron and save her precious Light Born. And now Twila’s there as well.” Ashere’s reformed fists shook with passion as she wallowed in fury. “Computer! Open a com link to Mitron. Tell him to stop trifling with that organic and finish her off. And I want his sister dead as well. It’s time he proved his loyalty to me, beyond all question.”

  “Command understood,” the computer answered. “Execution proceeds.”

  * * *

  Time was illusive and illusion; it seemed to span cosmic ages as Max trained. She wore clear gold armor and carried a sword—all condensed from her own power. Her attention remained unfocused so it could encompass all vectors. She splintered the fire that fountained from her hands, generating multiple force shields that drifted around her, catching rapid-fire blasts from her spectral trainer.

  About to fire a retaliatory barrage, Max hesitated. Failing thoughts reached her. The Light Born link was active within the pocket dimension. This hadn’t happened before. She found her thoughts repeating words she’d never learned, some kind of chant.

  We meld our honor in true allegiance… The training was abandoned. The specter’s psi-voice in Max’s head joined the chorus as well. Expending our strength, wounding far reaches with the promise of Light…

  A beat of silence followed, crushing them all with its gravity, until the specter shattered the moment with an announcement. Max, you are desperately needed elsewhere. Go!

  Max didn’t need the suggestion. She already knew something was terribly wrong; a firestorm of urgency suffused her. She let it pull her back to her universe.

  She reappeared in her bedroom, and glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was a lot later than it should have been. The imperative summons she felt had drawn her back to a different point in time than when she’d departed.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She turned, seeing Tommy’s back in the doorway. He was leaving without having seen her. She almost called to him.

  No. I don’t know why, but there’s no time to waste. Max closed her eyes, letting her perception of the psi-link open as wide as possible, while holding aloof from the emotions raging within it. Gotta keep a clear head so I can trace my friends. They’ve moved far into the heart of darkness, but I’ll find them. Why’d they have to start the party without me anyway?

  A sudden sense of duality possessed her. She still saw the bedroom, but also overlapping images: ships floating powerless in space, the moon looming impossibly huge, a cylindrical ship spewing raw energy toward the Earth, the Light Born forming an agonized chain, faces etched with strain, locked into silent screams of defiance.

  Pride and fear for her friends polarized her thoughts. Be strong! I’m coming!

  Her glow kicked up several notches. Wings of light beat away all shadows, making her a bug stuck in burning amber. She felt her body shifting out of phase, becoming something less than energy but not quite matter. It felt necessary, but scared her.

  Fortunately, the specter of her pocket dimension still spoke in her mind—Guardian to Guardian.

  This is the only way you can cover the distance in time. Let the universe dwindle to a vanishing point, then return, as you choose a new place for re-emergence. In this altered state, you can use hyperspace as a bridge to your friends.

  “Why can’t I just control the re-emergence point coming back from the pocket dimension, and do the same thing?” Max asked.

  When you come here, you don’t really leave your universe. You occupy two points in two different spaces, experiencing non-time in my dimension while the smallest fraction of a nanosecond passes in your universe. That’s why you’ve always returned to the time and place you left from—-until now. You’ve somehow skipped a little ahead in time. It’s something even I have never done before.

  Max heard the explanation, but tuned it out, concentrating on visualizing a quickly shrinking universe. She imagined it becoming a small wading pond for her feet. Galaxies collapsed into each other, creating a white space of pure energy at its center. Max willed the image into severe spiral compression. Soon, it was the size of a basketball, then a grapefruit; a dazzling sphere where galaxies merged. The universe, seen from the outside.

  Max experienced a lurch, a dislocation. Her glow dimmed, beating erratically, as a sudden weakness coursed through her. Her senses lost their edge. Thoughts turned brittle, fracturing. She realized that her visualization was becoming reality!

  The universe burst outward again, returning to its original size but not quite to its original place. Earth’s gravity was gone. The Earth was gone. Around her, stars burned on black velvet. The moon was monstrous, hanging close at hand. Max felt its drag and compensated while angling through a starfield littered with powerless ships.

  Earth orbit.

  She approached the cylinder that disgorged blue-violet fire. Her friends hung before it, having fought their way through the energy stream almost to the ship. The Light Borns’ fire seemed dim. It flickered erratically. Max tried to reach them, but she was walled out by the fierceness of their focused will. All she read was a communal mesh of pain, weakness, and desperation.

  Max was depleted herself, but knew she couldn’t wait for her full power to return, nor could she borrow from her friends. She drove herself on, heedless of the cost she’d have to pay later.

  Mitron appeared.

  Max’s eyes widened in surprise as she was speared in her midsection, and deflected off course. She screamed silently, spinning out of control, losing sight of her attacker.

  That was stupid. I know better than to let my guard down. I felt that impact even through my protective field.

  Max closed her eyes, anchoring herself in place with a web of force that dug into the very fabric of space. She visualized multiple photonic images of herself, fanning out from her body. Immersed in golden fire, the doppelgangers mirrored her movements.

  I’ll lose myself in this crowd. I need every second I can steal.

  She launched herself toward the Light Born, knowing their survival was more important than fighting the mechamorph. The photonic copies moved with her in a loose formation.

  Off to one side, she saw Mitron in the wake of one of her doubles. He reached out to snag an ankle, but his fingers passed right through it. He morphed an arm into something dangerous. It looked like some kind of weapon, ending in a multi-faceted lens.

  Max didn’t want to find out what it did. She pushed herself to greater speed.

  Mitron aimed the weapon at the image that had tricked him. He fired, but nothing seemed to happen except the lens turned black as the void. However, a moment later, a sphere of black bloomed within Max’s photonic copy. The images lost cohesion, dying in a spray of liberated photons.

  Max heard the Voice in the back of her head: anti-photon emitter. As drained as you are, it can damage your field. If your field goes…

  I know. I know. I’ll be sucking vacuum.

  Mitron swung past several of her images, firing over and over with the same results. One by one, the copies were snuffed out. Then Max saw the weapon lock on her.

  Almost there, but I’m not going to make it.

  She caught a red flicker of out of the corner of an eye.

  TWENTY

  The laser-sight
of his anti-photon emitter locked onto the Guardian, but Mitron kept satisfaction in its box. Murder gave him no pleasure though he was good at it. Though she couldn’t possibly hear him, he addressed her in his thoughts: You made a noble effort to live, child, but the dream you’ve called your life is ending.

  A half-shell swirl of red light ghosted in from nowhere. Mitron hesitated, seeing it from the corner of an eye. His head swiveled slightly. He used peripheral vision to watch both his target and the new arrival. The light play orbited a shadow at its center. The shadow solidified into his little sister.

  “Twi!” He called her on the private com channel they alone shared. “What are you doing here? And why have you been out of touch so long?”

  She didn’t answer, sliding in, blocking his shot. He attempted a warning. “Get away from her! You’re too close. She could…”

  Too late!

  Mitron activated shoulder thrusters, as the Guardian tackled his sister from behind. The gold fire of the Star enfolded both girls. Twila turned, applying a matching hold of her own with desperate strength.

  Mitron sprouted a new set of thrusters from his chest, they fired, stalling out his advance. Something was very wrong. He realized that the girls weren’t fighting. This was some alien method of expressing affection. He could scarcely credit it.

  As he delayed, Twila broke the embrace, shoving Max toward the Light Born.

  Mitron saw his opportunity. He swung his weapon after the retreating figure. Twi—-alight with a soft gold glow—blocked him again, holding one hand directly over the lens of his emitter. He was about to shake her off when his internal com received a message from Ashere’s vessel.

  As a test of loyalty, he was ordered to kill them both, sister and Guardian. The parameters of his logic threatened to buckle. The lid of his box bulged upward as love strained against the restraints of duty.

  “Don’t do this,” Twila urged. “It’s wrong! Let her go. Let her save her world.”