Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  “How can I? You are all I have left.” One of his many tentacles rose with serpentine grace to hang like a question mark before her eyes. The limb’s tip flattened, as it caressed the hard planes of her face.

  “Stop that! You over-reach yourself.”

  Mitron’s neck extended. Their faces nearly touched. “You’ve taught me to take what I want.” His lips parted, brushing hers. “I want you, body and soul.”

  Mitron felt a brief tremor of rage pass through Ashere. It gave way to the perfect stillness only attainable by inorganic life forms. A second later, every particle of her body surged outward, losing rigidity so she could seep out of his grasp.

  Just what I was waiting for.

  Mitron smiled, letting her semi-solid mass sluice from his coils. Holding her was not his true aim. Possessing her was. As she flowed away, he surrendered his cellular integrity, mingling his substance with hers. Molecular rape was the most forbidden and invasive act known to mechamorphs, an irreversible violation that was seldom survived by either party.

  He could tell that Ashere knew what was happening. Her substance churned with exquisite pain and horror too deep for rational expression. Her com signal disintegrated as they fused, but he no longer needed it; her thoughts were as plain to him as his own.

  She asked, Why did you do this? Our core wave-forms will cancel out or become a confused muddle. Our cells…can’t obey conflicting commands. Can’t co-exist this way…for long. You’ve killed us both.

  Possibly, you’re right. But if we both lose sanity before death comes…the wave forms will integrate, rebirth will be achieved. We will become…something new…and wondrous…

  You’re already insane.

  Mitron’s mind spawned a ragged laugh. I think you’re right. The pain I feel…is morphing…into the darkest joy.

  * * *

  Max reached the audience hall. Someone had beaten her there. The door had been forced open. With Jeff, Kim, and Mr. Packard in a tight formation behind her, she darted through. They drifted, scanning the islands of red light scattered through the vault. Their golden glow folded the darkness back on itself, illuminating the lifeless view screen floor beneath them. Aloft in hard vacuum, Max had no way of sensing movement through air currents. There was no betraying sound. With her feet off the deck, it couldn’t pass vibrations on to her.

  The first sign of Ashere was strictly visual. Max happened to be looking the right way when a metallic sludge flopped into view, tinted red by the emergency lights. Enthralled, Max watched the mechamorph flail madly with Pseudo-pods that withered moments after sprouting. The limbs splattering on the deck, then were reabsorbed.

  An enormous face formed. Silently it screamed, twisting into insane angles, becoming two faces. One continued to scream. The other was distorted with hysterical laughter. It made Max think of the twin masks used by the entertainment industry—one smiling, one crying—comedy and drama.

  What the heck is that? Kim asked.

  Max shrugged, opening a channel to her private dimension. She sensed Twila and the specter. They were as intently focused on the scene as Max and her Light Born friends.

  What’s going on? Max asked. Is that thing Ashere?

  Twila’s thought was somber, shocked. This is not a thing we often speak of, especially to those not of our kind.

  Come on. Spill! Don’t you think I need to know what I’m dealing with? Max asked.

  The specter’s replying thought was a quick stab. That is Ashere, what’s left of my daughter, and someone else. If you can show her any mercy, kill her now. It will be a kindness.

  Suits me, Mr. Packard answered. If a thing needs killin’, you kill it.

  I agree. Jeff’s thought was quiet and cold with purpose.

  The two mechamorph faces sloughed away. The writhing mass lifted itself on four stubby legs. One end produced a forked tail covered in jeweled scales. The opposite end budded, growing a long thick neck with a fin-like mane. The neck whipped wildly, branching into nine smaller necks that undulated spastically. Blobs grew at the end of the necks, shaping themselves into dragonheads. Wings unfurled from its back, snapping out, an obsidian fan with bloody highlights.

  The heads achieved a moment of synchronicity, swiveling toward Max, locking hate-filled eyes onto her. The hyper-dragon opened all its mouths, displaying platinum fangs. It chorused a scream that was muted by the vacuum.

  Fear stomped down Max’s spine. The small hairs at the base of her neck prickled. Her mouth went dry and her heart beat faster, as the beast lumbered toward her.

  This is so not good.

  She thickened her energy field as a precaution, sensing her Terran Light Born friends doing the same.

  The dragonheads flipped up and back in a wave. As they came forward again, a magnesium compound spewed out. Some incendiary device within the jaws sparked, igniting the liquid jets. Nine dragon-headed flamethrowers converged on Max, covering her in a blind sheet.

  I can’t see a—uhhhh!

  Its massive body ran through its own fire, crashing into Max, slamming her away from the magnesium blaze. Unable to cling to her energy, the fire washed away. Max was able to see again—though just a blur as the deck swung wildly around her. She hurtled, bounced and rolled out of control; a human pinball. She careened off bulkheads and decks, tumbling wildly within her force-shell, getting hella dizzy.

  Gotta pull it…together before…I get violently…sick. I don’t want to be wearing that!

  Separated from her friends, she came to a jarring stop, pinned under a giant, clawed foot. Dragonheads ringed her as the foot lifted, only to come down in a rain of piston-driven blows. Max willed her shield to its fullest strength. It held but the deck was less sturdy. She was stomped through buckled plating, into a lower space.

  Where did all this mass come from? Ashere and a second body shouldn’t be this big.

  The Voice said: All mechamorphs carry highly compressed mass that can be drawn on for fabrication.

  Twila said: It’s not usually released all at once.

  Inertia carried Max’s tumbling body to the lower deck. Her energy sheath soaked up the impact. She rebounded.

  The hyper-dragon followed, its nine heads elongating, losing definition. The necks reformed as writhing cables covered with steel spurs. They whipped around Max, stopping her rise as she sought to battle back. This isn’t going well. Gotta do something to regain the momentum of the fight.

  The spiked stems slung her sideways. Max belled her sheathing for extra protection. Without all the non-time ages of practice, she’d have been hamburger already. The dragon-heads rotated her so that she went headfirst into a bulkhead.

  She went on the offensive, creating a nearly two-dimensional ring of force around her waist. The band expanded dramatically as she channeled energy into it. The ring sliced through tentacles, necks, and such. The ring filled the chamber and vanished, a new ring forming immediately around Max.

  The amputated pieces of hyper-dragon wiggled in the vacuum. Thrashing themselves out of cohesion, the lost parts devolved into a swarm of liquid metal spheres.

  MAX!

  She recognized the psychic channel flooding her with urgency: Commander Hardrune?

  Yeah, listen…the containment field’s gone. The engine’s singularity is starting to grow, absorbing the ship rapidly. We’ve broken off and are heading back to the Fist-of-Peace. You guys better get out, too.

  But Ashere…

  Leave her. The black hole will end her rampage and her suffering. Besides, we have a bigger problem. We have to get Ashere’s ship out of the solar system while we still can. It’s a growing danger to your world. Remember?

  You win. We’re on our way.

  Max dodged to the side as a dragon leg poked into the space and groped blindly for her. I don’t have time for this anymore.

  She phased through a far bulkhead, cutting off immediate pursuit. Turning back, she thinned the energy across her palm, wanting to feel the metal bulkhead. Her effort wa
s rewarded a moment later. She felt a series of violent vibrations. The mechamorph was pitching itself against the wall, venting its insanity.

  The big bad wolf’s knocking on my door.

  Jeff’s thought reached her. Max, need any help?

  Not now. Where have you been?

  We got jumped by a bunch of midget waiting robots. Took a bit to fight free. We’re not used to using Light Born Powers yet.

  Don’t come looking for me. Max focused her power and threw herself down a corridor. I’m on my way out. You guys get clear, too.

  Kim said: We’ll meet you outside the ship.

  Okay. Max angled into one of the tunnels bored out of the vessel by the scattered particle beam energy. She saw the end of the tunnel. It brought her out into the starfield once more. She flew away and turned.

  The bulb-ended ship shank, its closest end wrinkling, dimpling, and twisting ever so slowly.

  Max’s friends joined her, viewing the sight.

  It’s compressing, Jeff said, folding in on itself. That will be the Moon and Earth next if we don’t do something fast.

  Not on my watch. Max sighted a League ship closing in, and knew it had to be the Fist-of-Peace. Here comes our ride. Let’s go see what Hardrune is doing about this.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Max sat in the captain’s chair, perceiving it as an honor and privilege. Hardrune stood next to her. Many of the Light Born were present, though none manned the ship’s control stations. None of this seemed real; too much like a scene from Star Trek. The big view screen showed a high-resolution image of Ashere’s ship. It had gone from being a floating barbell to a tormented lump of wrinkled steel, its heart consumed with cancer.

  Only a few days ago, I thought of nothing, but getting Jeff to notice me. Now, I’m trapped in a nightmare world of alien assassins and black holes, and if I screw up, everyone I love pays the price. Space sucks. Seriously.

  Max needed to look elsewhere. Her brain felt like it was spiraling down a quantum rabbit hole. Her gaze dropped to the nav-station. A dead mechamorph was being wet-vac’d off the deck by a maintenance robot. Max watched the operation absently, her thoughts careening off the inside of her skull.

  Captain Raio approached, drawing her attention. He nodded, but spoke to the commander. “Most of the crew has evacuated the ship. The other fleet vessels have taken them in. The ships are making real progress restoring themselves, but we shouldn’t count on any assistance for a while.”

  “Then have a good life, my friend. May fortune always attend you.” Hardrune said.

  “With all due respect, Sir, I’m staying. The Fist is my command. I think I’ve the right to see her through a mission as vital as this one.”

  Max nodded at the sentiment, holding silent. It was normal for a Captain to want to go down with his ship. Of course, she wouldn’t have described the mission as vital. Suicidal was more like it.

  There’s got to be another way. There’s always another way. I just got to think of it.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Hardrune told the captain, “but the answer is still no. I’m not getting anyone killed that doesn’t have to be. Get off the ship or I’ll throw you in someone else’s brig. The League needs officers like you. Think of your duty to live, not to die.”

  “All right. But if I can get a bit maudlin before I go…” Raio extended his hand. Hardrune did the same. They clasped forearms, a parting gesture of friendship. Raio said, “You will live in my memories forever.”

  “That will have to do,” Hardrune said, grinning.

  Captain Raio broke contact and walked away. Hardrune turned back to Max. She felt him mustering strength for an argument with her. She cut him off with a private thought. Don’t even go there. I’m staying if you are. It’s my party remember.

  I’m expendable, Max. All Light Born are. You’re not. I have to stop the singularity before it gets completely unmanageable. You have to go away, and let me do it.

  Max said: So, you’re just going to ram into what’s left of Ashere’s yacht, locking the two ships together while you jump to—

  Null-space. Yeah, that’s the plan. We’ll take the black hole non-dimensional with us while it’s still managable. Of course, getting back to real space will probably not be possible.

  I know you’re all okay with this glorious-death-in-victory scenario, but I don’t like it. Max said, We need another plan.

  Hardrune told her: Well, you better find it fast, I’m setting in my course.

  Max closed her eyes. Her mind was swamped with memories that formed a thick collage: there was Twila, fighting against her own logic pathways—melting down because she couldn’t live without her heart. Twila facing down Mitron so Max could save her world. There were images of the bus crash, people hurt because of her, hospital patients that she was too weak to help, their eyes pleading. There were Light Born, offering their bodies to shield the Earth, holding on desperately under the onslaught of Ashere’s particle beam.

  Then there was her father, a man with faith in the rightness of the universe. His words sliced though her confusion like a sword. Somehow, things always work out right, he once told her. You just have to believe.

  Max opened her eyes. Her gaze took in the Light Born on the bridge. They stood, resolved to die as they had lived, with honor burning bright.

  A fierce madness swept through her, leaving a strange clarity of thought and purpose in its wake. She felt expanded, like part of her was spilling into an unseen dimension. Her memories melted, fusing as a terrible desperation ignited her soul.

  “No.” The word fell from her lips like a stone into a pond. Even to her, her voice sounded impossibly distant. It was as if some remote stranger had spoken without heat, or passion, but with a dreadful certainty. “It isn’t fair. There’s been too much pain, too much sacrifice. It ends now.”

  She stood with tears gathering in her eyes, unsure why they were there. The gold glow clinging to her flesh became a raging pyre. Clear gold armor solidified over her clothing. An unbearable brightness, dense enough to breath, filled the bridge. Max let it consume her, burning inward in a way she’d never experienced. Pain and pleasure mingled in her mind, distancing the confused voices of the Light Born within her.

  The only voice strong enough to stay with her was that of the specter in the jewel.

  Max. I know what you intend to do, but you can’t. You’ll never survive.

  Maybe not, but I can’t let others die for me. I just can’t.

  Twila’s voice came over the Star’s channel. Max, listen to me!

  I’m sorry. Max reached into the Star for all the power she could grasp. I’ve made up my mind. It looks like you’ll have to pick out a replacement for me sooner than you thought.

  Max…Max…

  She gave her last order: Hardrune, all of you stay back.

  She refused to listen any more. Phasing, the golden energy swept her off the bridge, into space once more. Ashere’s ship was gone, replaced by a thick patch of utter black. Max became a shooting star, streaking down the micro-singularity’s gullet.

  * * *

  “Fool kid!” Hardrune raged, blinking his light-stunned eyes. “What does she think she’s doing? I can’t even get her on our channel. It’s still there, just…empty, like she’s gone someplace in her head no one else can follow.”

  “Commander?”

  His vision clearing, Hardrune faced the squat heavy-worlder. “What is it, Jhoori?”

  “Sensors show that the singularity is growing faster than anticipated, and I’ve plotted the Guardian’s energy signature.

  She’s just passed the event horizon.”

  Hardrune dropped into the captain’s chair and smacked its arm. The material buckled. The controls there were smashed. “Then there’s nothing we can do. Once past that line, even light can’t escape. What does she hope to do?”

  Jhoori shrugged. “I hope it’s something good. At this point in the game, no one else can make the play.”

 
“I’m not leaving it at that,” Jeff said. “You say she’s inside that black hole? Fine, I’m going after her.”

  “No,” Hardrune said. “You’d die trying to follow her and accomplish nothing. Max wouldn’t like that.”

  “I have to try,” Jeff said.

  “Ditto,” Kim said.

  “Terrans stick together,” Mr. Packard added. “I’m in too.”

  Hardrune stomped over to the three humans. “I said—”

  The vessel rocked. Hardrune fought for balance, and lost it, slamming heavily to the deck. He rolled and pushed back to his feet. “What’s going on?”

  “Shields are burning out, layer by layer,” Jhoori said. “We’re experiencing turbulence…waves of spatial distortion…”

  “Is the singularity getting closer?” Hardrune latched onto his chair.

  “No. This is a new phenomenon, but its epicenter does lie close to the heart of the micro-black hole. A galactic storm is forming.”

  Joy edged Kim’s voice. “It’s Max! She must still be alive and kickin’ in there.”

  “She’s in the galactic storm?” Jeff asked.

  “No,” Hardrune answered, his voice a dry whisper. “She is the storm.”

  * * *

  Photon streams curled around her, serpentine ribbons that writhed within the bubble of force enclosing her. It held back the crushing darkness. Max had no name for the energies surging through her, shunting off the black hole’s gravitational riptides. She achieved a temporary safety from the singularity, but had no protection from her own crystal. Its power coursed dangerously through her, burning like nothing she’d ever known. Her golden armor began to melt, sagging, as a door was opened in her soul to the unfathomable nothing at the center of the universe. I hope I last…longer than the black hole… I must. I must.

  Agony twisted her in a knot, washing away all thought. Tears in her eyes steamed away. Max screamed silently. Her Light Born armor hazed, as her glow shifted from gold to a dazzling white. She knew she was dying. Her roasted flesh started to cloud. Failure nearly stilled her heart, as shock dimmed the pain, viciously wringing across her synaptic relays.