Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  Just because I’m going into battle doesn’t mean I can’t look good.

  Gravity weakened, then lost all dominance as the Earth became a varicolored beach ball in a star-strewn sea. She reached the League ships. There were a lot less of them than she remembered.

  Prompted by her thoughts, Hardrune provided an explanation: Except for my ship, the battle-worthy vessels have already left in response to numerous distress calls. These vessels are still patching themselves together after the fight with Ashere. When able, they will follow.

  The Light Born reached the Fist-of-Peace, phasing through the hull, onto the bridge. Captain Raio welcomed them aboard with a curt nod, offering his chair to Max. She took it rather than generate a fuss over the issue by refusing. She noticed a new face among the bridge crew, a mechamorph.

  Can we trust him?

  Hardrune picked up on her thought. We have to. We need the inorganics to navigate null space. The League got lazy, then dependent.

  But they supported Ashere.

  She’s dead, and her people know they’re going to be watched carefully for a very long time. Earning trust is going to be a long process, but they have to start sometime.

  I guess so.

  “Course is laid in,” the mechamorph reported. “Secondary drivers engaging.”

  “Excellent,” Captain Raio said. “Once we get far enough away from this system, we can engage the primary drive.”

  “You can’t go all Warp Power this close to the sun?” Max asked.

  Captain Raio paused over her TV reference, but worked out his answer. “No, we’ve never gotten around that one limitation.”

  “But time is important right?” she asked.

  “Very much so,” the captain said, “but we can’t rewrite the laws of multi-dimensional space.”

  You can’t, Max thought, but maybe I can.

  Max, Hardrune’s thought was tinged with alarm, don’t do anything that’s going to get us—

  The warning came too late. Max opened her awareness and formed a bridge to elsewhere while anchoring herself within the weave of normal time and space.

  If I can straddle both points in realities…maybe I can drag the whole ship into the pocket dimension…use it as a shortcut.

  “But if you can’t…?” Hardrune let the quest fade unfinished.

  Her necklace materialized on her. The jewel became lost in a haze of gold fire. Max felt herself expanding to impossible dimensions. A sensation of rushing explosively caught her up. Her light encompassed the ship. Her thoughts thinned across the galaxy, attenuating into a darkness where universes danced in a chaotic whirl. She existed, grasping one universe among many, and yet was on the bridge, blurred, phasing, raw power swelling the channels of her mind.

  The Light Born around her ignited involuntarily. In the fierce incandescence, the bridge, its crew, even the bulkheads and decks of the ship went a translucent gold. There were cries of surprise and dismay as the light wash darkened, sliding down the visible spectrum; gold became a frosty copper green.

  Hardrune spoke: Max, this is dangerous. Light Born…have never been charged…this high before…phasing…in sympathetic resonation. Don’t know…if our bodies…can take this. Ship…probably won’t.

  I’ll hold it together, she promised. Trust me.

  I do, with my life. But how are you doing this?

  Haunting the radiance on the bridge, Twila and the Spirit of the Star appeared. They held hands, offering their free hands to Max. She shifted forward, leaving the captain’s chair. Linked with them, she became the third point of a triangle. Max called on Hardrune’s knowledge. Spatial co-ordinates, she demanded!

  As the destination flooded Max’s mind, the Spirit of the Star drained it away. I’ll handle this part of things.

  Sure, Max agreed. Just make it quick.

  A moment later, the green light winked out. The gold fire around the Light Born dimmed and died. Max’s necklace lost its fierce glow, the crystal facets visible again.

  Swooning bodies littered the bridge as the substance of the vessel became opaque again. Max studied the view screen. She saw metallic debris floating across a new world, surrounded by alien stars, and felt sad as she confronted the loss of her limitations.

  I’ve hurled us across the galaxy and I don’t even feel tired.

  Highly disciplined, the bridge crew returned to stations, seeking to discover for themselves just what had happened. The mechamorph turned and spoke to the captain, though Max noticed his eyes were on her, enlivened with escaping awe.

  “We’re in orbit over Osarra, Captain. The ship jumped without using the singularity drive.”

  Captain Raio reclaimed his empty chair. “Guardian!”

  Max met his angry glare.

  “The next time you plan on doing something like that, please give notice. We don’t mind risking our lives, but we’d like to know when it’s about to happen.”

  Contrition set in. “You’re right,” Max said. “I’m sorry.”

  He waved her apology away. “Long as we’re here, let’s get busy.” He faced the comm station. “Communications Officer, report!”

  “All channels from the planet are swamped with crisis alerts and damage reports. Most of the voices are barely coherent. I’m also picking up the transmission signatures of League vessels just appearing at the edge of the system. We seem to have gotten here hours before any other ship will be able to.”

  “Use ship sensors, full array,” Captain Raio ordered. “Find the source of all this so we can take it out.”

  One of the bridge crew spoke up. “I’m putting it on-screen now, Sir. This is the source of the planetary devastation.”

  The image on screen went from a long view of the Osarra to a downward view of a sprawling metropolis blurred by the smoke of fires. The cityscape jumped numerous times as magnification increased, revealing a massive being hovering above shattered towers and rubble choked streets.

  To Max, the creature appeared to be the result of some mad artist running amok with the female form, chopping off arms, grafting squids in their place, coating everything with a pewter finish. Only this was no statue; it moved like a living thing.

  “That’s our target!” Commander Hardrune turned toward Captain Raio. “We’ll go after her while you lend assistance to the workers evacuating the city and digging out survivors.”

  “You’re sure you don’t need our help with the invader?” the captain asked.

  “Judging from the wreckage in space, conventional military force is hopelessly out-classed. This is a job for us.” Hardrune’s voice burst across the bridge, calling his command to battle. “Light Born, IGNITE!” They joined him in transformation, sheathed in the energy of the Star.

  Max heard Twila’s voice along the private channel they shared. Go get that thing, Max. Give her a punch and a kick for me.

  Max smiled, as gold fire enveloped her. You know I will. She sent a command to all the Light Born at once. Let’s go! She led the way, pitching herself through a bulkhead, phasing through it and ship shields into the winds above the city. Even half in ruins, the glazed spiral towers below her were wondrous. Reflecting the sun as a diamond glitter, the structures possessed a beauty that made her heart ache at the desecration.

  City-dwellers scurrying over the rubble, dragging the wounded and the dead away. The sight was more than she could bear. She could almost hear the voices of the dead mixed into the wind-scream, demanding justice.

  The pain in her heart bloomed into a rage that shook her with its violence. The strength of the emotion surprised Max until she realized that a lot of it was feedback from the rest of the Light Born. All their hearts burned as one. As one, they formed backswept wings of light, letting her take point. Max pushed for as much speed as she could, punching through the air well ahead of a sonic boom.

  They came at the creature from her back. Somehow, she sensed their approach, beginning a turn, but it was too little, too late. Riding sun-fire, the Light Born hit tru
e, piercing the creature, burning through her without slowing down. Their speed carried them well out of reach.

  First blood, sorta kinda.

  Rather than slowing and having to regenerate their velocity all over again, the Light Born kept moving, angling up, then back the way they came. Hanging inverted, Max spiraled to bring the ground under her once more. She was more comfortable when down was under her. Obsessed with battle, and more experienced, the rest of the Light Born didn’t bother with such minor adjustment.

  En mass, they hit a barrier of pure thought. As if unseen coils were holding them all, the Light Born became stuck mid-air before the creature’s fury-twisted face. Her voice washed over them as did her pain. She shared agony to cripple them as she was crippled. There was a gaping hole in her torso where internal organs had once been. Great exposed arteries whipped about like runaway fire hoses under pressure, spraying smoldering black blood everywhere.

  Focus through the emotion. Hardrune advised. Don’t own the pain. Refuse it place in your mind. Feel the pain of Osarra instead.

  Max had a little trouble closing out the empathic projection; to be invulnerable meant a retreat from her humanity, and thought of that hurt. She feared her real self might ultimately get lost with too extreme an ascension. That fear prompted her to deal with this monster with the powers she currently possessed.

  Her body became a haze of light, as she raised her hands. The temperature between them rose millions of degrees. The oxygen in the air was burned into ozone. Max created a micro-star, a sphere of gold-white light that expended itself as a single jag of energy that lashed the creature. The fire-play ended and the beast had a huge new hole, in its torso.

  As Max watched, the metallic sheathing around the creature softened and flowed into the gap, replacing lost fluids and organs with cybernetic constructs.

  Twila’s shocked voice resonated loudly in Max’s mind. Max! That thing’s not entirely organic. It’s part mechamorph.

  The thought spread to the rest of the Light Born. Jeff answered for all of them. It makes little difference. Organic, inorganic, it’s still going down.

  I hope it can die. Mr. Packard said. Look, the wound is gone. The thing’s regenerated. It’s like a hydra. You cut off a head and two more grow back. This is going to take special handling.

  The term was from Greek mythology but the alien Light Born absorbed the concept easily. Assaulting their link, the creature absorbed the mythology lesson as well. Its mental voice clubbed at them.

  Hydra! I like that. You may call me by that name. Use it in your prayers as you beg for your many tiny lives.

  As if. Max answered. You’re no one’s goddess—not even in the running.

  Hydra answered, I am the goddess of death. Look below if you do not believe me. She pointed tentacle tips earthward. The limbs developed bulbs at the ends. These shaped themselves into horned dragon heads with flaming eyes. They opened their jaws, displaying double-rows of triangular teeth and long rippling tongues. The heads’ scream of fury choked off as it disgorged the cylindrical maws of particle beam emitters.

  Carrier beams with vortexed cores slashed cleanly through several towers. The sections fell, crashing against lesser structure, adding to the debris.

  Hydra promised, I shall make the people of this world pay for your defiance.

  Hardrune spoke to the Light Born: We can’t let that stop us, Hydra’s a killer. She’s going to kill as long as she lives. Taking her out hard and fast will keep the death toll down. We must pool our energy and strike relentlessly!

  Golden beams fell in a heavy rain on Hydra. She screamed in fury. And still her particle beams carved deep furrows in streets and buildings as she swung about to return fire.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Hydra possessed borrowed memories of the Light Born, but found their reality far more formidable than expected given Ashere’s disdain and Mitron’s dismissiveness. He said: So they glow. I can glow, if I want to.

  Until now, Hydra had simply accepted their views, not seeing through the veil of bias. She could no longer afford that luxury.

  There is more to these golden warriors than you have believed, she told her mechamorph allies.

  Not much more, Ashere insisted. But don’t distract me. I’ve blocked off your pain centers and I’m making repairs. Patching up an extra-dimensional lifeform is not an easy task, even when you’re part of that lifeform. And there are no schematics at all!

  Hydra wondered what Mitron was doing. She tagged the small spark of his consciousness within herself. Ah, he’s creating something called a quantum dissonance generator. Borrowing on her newly acquired knowledge of physics, she extrapolated the device’s purpose. It phased the continuum, forming a multi-time-space insulation.

  An invulnerable shield. Excellent!

  It’s on, Mitron said.

  Directing her awareness outward once more, Hydra noticed that the power rays of the Light Born were diffused and diverted around her. She was now untouchable. It was interesting; her own particle beams had no trouble spanning the dissonance field to reach her enemy.

  That’s because I’m phasing the weapons energy signature to match that of the quantum field, Mitron explained. What’s the use of a shield that you can’t shoot through?

  You’re being quite helpful for an unbalanced personality, Hydra observed.

  I’ve made a profound discovery, Mitron said. There’s a real problem with wallowing in guilt. After a while, it gets damned boring—even for a mechamorph.

  Whatever the reason, Hydra said, welcome to the battle.

  She shifted target rapidly, playing her beam from one Light Born to the next. Though frustrated to see that their golden auras protected them, she derived a small amount of satisfaction from hammering them back across the sky. Alone and defiant, the hated Guardian remained. The beams hitting her were shunted aside as if they were nothing.

  I hate her, Ashere said.

  So do I, Hydra said.

  We should form a club, Mitron said.

  Hydra considered employing her ultimate attack, the dark-fire transmutation. It was the tool that laid waste to the coral worlds of her home dimension. No, she decided, not until I’m ready to write off this entire system. I do need new toys. She sent a razor thought to Mitron. These emitters aren’t doing enough damage. Give me something else.

  I’m on it. Just keep her busy while I put something together. Hydra hurled herself at the tiny guardian. If I can’t yet match her energy level, maybe I can crush her on a purely physical level.

  Don’t do it!

  Mitron’s warning caused her to veer away. Why not?

  If you reach through your defenses, the part of you outside becomes vulnerable. And if you make contact, your quantum signature can be read by direct induction; she’ll be able to phase her energy attacks. It would be as if our shields weren’t even there.

  Hydra dropped onto the highest tower left. Her dragonheads wrapped around the top floor ripping loose a great hunk of debris. Pulling herself back into the air, she noticed that the Guardian was closing in like a sulfur comet. Hydra flung the borrowed structure. The Guardian exploded through it and wasn’t even slowed down. Chunks of glazed stone rained on the city, rattling off of buildings, shattering parked hovers on the street.

  Hydra was forced to her utmost speed to keep her great mass out of the Guardian’s way. Impotent backwashes of gold told Hydra that her shields were holding, but the Guardian wasn’t relenting from constant fire. Then, the world was blotted out with incandescence as returning Light Born added to the barrage.

  Mitron, do something! Hydra demanded. They’re not getting through but I can’t see anything. I’m using their minds as navigational markers, but that doesn’t mean I won’t impale myself on a building!

  I’m activating mirage technology—now!

  The attack on her shield ended. Hydra was there, surrounded, but none of the Light Born were looking her way. They were turning to track and fire on multiple Hydra images.
There was a dozen of her moving in a complex dance.

  They can’t see you anymore, Mitron explained. You are invisible while your photons are being cloned and redirected. I hope you appreciate that I am creating and discarding entirely new branches sciences for you as we go along.

  You have my gratitude, but I still need a weapon that will damage this so-called Guardian. Keep working!

  Bitch!

  What?

  A title of respect on many worlds.

  Oh.

  Ashere’s mind joined the discussion. Let’s try this.

  What are you thinking? Hydra’s curiosity was answered as the ghost images changed. The other Hydras acted as three-dimensional mirrors. Hydra’s torso and legs acquired form-fitting armor plating. Her steel-wound tentacles sprouted spikes, taking on cyber-vines aspects while her head grew a mask and hood that replicated her organic face faithfully.

  Take us to the wreckage below, Ashere demanded. We need to forage for metals, and complex synthetics for further renovation.

  Hydra felt a little resentment at Ashere’s imperious tone of mind, but this was not the time to make an issue of it. There were changes still needing to be made and Light Born to squash. Hydra dropped to the rubble-filled street below, as her enemies continued to amuse themselves with her images.

  Dusty slabs of rock shifted and toppled around her feet.

  That was a ridiculous thing to do, Mitron commented casually. They’ll see you in the displacement of the dust cloud.

  Hydra snarled a thought: Now you tell me!

  Max was confused at first; it seemed like she and her guys were kicking the crap outta Hydra when suddenly there was a whole legion of her all around. Max rapid-fired her share of energy bolts at the multiple targets, but they did no good. The creatures either dodged with incomprehensible speed, or the bolts passed harmlessly through them. All of Max’s psychic channels carried amazement that fed her own.

  Like an iron bar bludgeoning its way through margarine, Commander Hardrune’s projected thoughts dominated the mix: We’re just grinding gears here. I don’t think any of these are the real Hydra. This is some new adaptation of imager technology.