by M. R. Forbes
Abbey still wasn’t completely sure what King meant, but she didn’t like the way it sounded. Free the Asura to do what? Try to conquer the universe? They would have to get in line.
The platform continued to drop, another twelve hundred meters at least. Finally, it slowed to a stop. Not at the bottom. Somewhere near the center above a metallic sphere where thousands of pulsing tendrils extended out, escaping the chamber and spreading like spokes into the rest of the Shardship. A power supply of some kind. Perhaps the reactor was inside?
King approached them, getting close to Abbey. She tried to move away, finding her feet planted beneath her and unable to back up. The creature leaned down, its eyes examining her. It raised a large, narrow hand to her face, stroking her hair. He drew back when it cut him, turning the hand over and examining it.
“You will make a good Queen,” he said, stepping past. Once he was out of range of her fists, she was able to move once more.
“How is he doing that?” she asked. “It’s like I have no Gift at all.”
“I know. How do we kill him like that?”
“I don’t know yet. For now, we just have to play along.”
King had reached the edge of the platform, and now the soldiers prodded them forward, forcing them to follow. They passed through another hole that had been slashed in the wall and into a long corridor. A larger open archway waited a few hundred meters ahead of them, a golden light flickering inside. Abbey noticed that she could hear a hum from the room, a rhythmic throbbing that she remembered from another place.
But how could that be?
Sexless gray creatures swarmed out of holes in the sides of the corridors, arranging themselves in a line and bowing as King approached. He ignored them, walking ahead of his entourage, carrying himself as the ruler he was. Abbey and Trinity followed, the other soldiers at their backs.
“How do you expect me to free you?” Abbey asked.
“There is only one thing here that I cannot touch. But you can. I can sense it in you.”
Something that required the Gift. Her Gift?
“What about the others that came before?”
“There was only one other. The one who made the Dark sing. She escaped from us.”
“She? What did she look like?”
“So much time has cycled. I do not remember her face. Only her name.”
“Charmeine,” Abbey said.
King stopped, turning around. “You know her?”
“Right now, I want to wring her fragging neck.”
“I do not know what that means.”
“But you can speak Terran Standard in my head?”
“I send the meanings. You create the words.”
Abbey smiled. She knew what this was about. Charmeine had come here to visit the Focus. She had decided to use one of the pools like she had seen on Azure to attempt to reach another Shard. Apparently, she had heeded the Shard’s warning and set up a containment field. These individuals had been drawn to the energy of the pool, and now they were stuck.
It was a dirty secret Charmeine hadn’t bothered to share when she sent them here. For some reason, the Seraphim Archchancellor thought Abbey could do something about the Asura.
Yeah, right. King could hold her in place with zero effort, and she was surrounded by hundreds of the damn things. Which also raised the question: why the frag was the field containing them the size of the damned Shardship?
King started walking again, leading them to the archway and through. Abbey’s breath caught in her throat as she realized where they were.
A large, simple room. A metal block in the center, ringed in flame. A torch rested behind it. A round transparency at the front, a small volume of blood visible through it. A dozen thick cables pulsing with energy rose into the ceiling from the edges. A tube ran out into a small font ahead of the flames. There was an inscription on the floor ahead of it, written in a language she couldn’t read. Seraphim, she was sure.
The Focus.
“Thraven would kill every soul in the galaxy to be here,” Trinity said beside her.
“I just want to get the frag out of here,” Abbey replied. She hoped the Rejects already had.
“This is the key to the prison,” King said. “As long as the fire is lit, we cannot escape. You will snuff out the flame. You will turn off the containment field. Then you will be my Queen, and you will help us seek the Dark wherever in this place and time it may be found.”
That explained why the Focus had been active all of these years, even when none of the Seraphim could get near it. Charmeine had at least been smart enough to make it untouchable to these assholes.
“No,” Abbey said. “I don’t think I will.”
King lifted his hand. Abbey’s head immediately felt as though it would explode. She cried out, falling to the ground and clutching at it.
“You son of a bitch,” Trinity said, trying to approach. Again, his other hand went up, and she was frozen in place.
The pain subsided. Abbey rested on her knees, looking at the Asura leader. His Gift, or whatever it was, dwarfed hers. Perhaps it even dwarfed Thraven’s. How had Charmeine escaped from this?
“You will do what I command,” King said. “Or I will do much worse than kill you.”
Abbey pushed herself to her feet. What choices did she have?Suffer excruciating pain for who knew how long, or turn off the containment field and let the Asura loose on the galaxy? With her as their Queen. Who could forget that part? She had a feeling there would be pain involved in that one, too.
Charmeine had delivered her here. She hadn’t mentioned the Asura. Why? How would knowing about them ahead of time have changed things? How was she different than anyone else? What made her special?
Of course, she knew what made her special. The Light of the Shard had cleansed her. Her Gift was pure.
And now King wanted her to approach the Focus.
He wanted her to turn it off.
He knew she could touch it. Did he know what she could do with it?
Obviously not.
She forced herself to stay calm, to appear reluctant. She considered denying him again, to be sure he wouldn’t suspect. She didn’t want to go through that pain again. Instead, she bowed her head, moving slowly toward the Focus.
“Yes. Step through the inferno. Shut down the field. The Dark is calling to us, and we to it.”
Had Charmeine known this would happen? Had the Seraphim set her up? Had she set King up?
Maybe she wasn’t as much of a bitch as Abbey had been starting to think.
She reached the flames, looking down into them. She could see the red line of blood at the bottom of the fire, blood that had come directly from the Shard. The naniates within produced the flame in an endless fountain of regeneration. The Focus had lost much of its power over the years. At least, that’s what Charmeine had said. Because of this?
“Step through,” King said. “It can’t harm you.”
Not can’t. Won’t. Abbey reached her hand into the fire, watching as it shifted to avoid her. She smiled, her back to King, crossing the threshold of the inferno and reaching the Focus. She stood in front of it and looked down. The body of the Shard was visible beneath a transparent plate. Tubes ran in and out of his corpse, carrying his blood, recycling it within him. His chest rose and fell, shocking her. Was he alive? That couldn’t be. She could see the stab wound in his side, a constant trickle of blood draining out, collected and re-inserted. Something was making the Shard’s body move for him, keeping the blood fresh. Keeping the naniates alive.
“Turn it off,” King said. She could tell he had moved closer, as close as he dared to approach.
She continued looking at the Shard. He was indistinguishable from a human. Handsome, with brown hair and a chiseled jaw. He seemed peaceful. He had been peaceful, refusing violence even after violence had been done to him. His Light still shined across this galaxy he had helped develop, and when it had joined with her and cleansed her, it had expres
sed its disappointment in the Seraphim for trying to change what he had made.
“Do it,” King said. “Now.”
And she could tell they had. The Blood of the Shard was impure. Corrupted, just as the Seraphim had been corrupted. That was another reason it was weak. Had it been required to keep the Asura at bay? Or had the Asura been invited because of Charmeine’s indiscretion?
“Now, my Queen,” King said. “Please. Set your Asura free.”
Please? King had turned from demanding to pleading in a matter of seconds. There was only one obvious reason why.
He couldn’t harm her beyond the flames. He hadn’t known before she had entered.
She examined the Focus, searching for a terminal. When she didn’t see one, she put her hands on top of the tomb. Immediately, the transparency displayed a series of controls, all of them labeled in Seraphim. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. She had no idea how to turn the power off. Not that she would have, anyway.
“Turn it off,” King shouted. “Do it, or I will kill her.”
The pleading had shifted away almost as quickly as it had arrived. Abbey turned around, finding Trinity held in place by the Asura, surrounded by soldiers. A dozen blades pressed against her armor, ready to cut her to pieces.
“Let them kill me, Queenie,” Trinity said through her comm. “Then they have no power over you.”
Abbey didn’t respond. She moved to the small fountain in front of the Focus. The Blood was running through it, ready to be taken into vials, ready to be brought out of the Shardship.
“I will not ask again. Shut it down, or she will die.”
“Then I will die,” Trinity said.
Abbey reached out to the fountain. She could feel the energy of the naniates inside it. She could feel her Gift responding in kind. She let her fingers sink into the thick, red liquid. As she did, her shardsuit began to shift around her, pulling away and entering the Focus, joining with it in its endless cycle.
Within seconds, she was naked, the shardsuit vanishing from her, the rest of her Gift abandoning her as well. She no longer had a comm to hear when Trinity cried out, one of the soldiers stabbing her in the chest. It didn’t matter. Trinity wasn’t going to die. Neither was she.
The King and his minions, on the other hand?
She reached down with her other hand, placing it in the fountain. Then she stiffened, her eyes widening as everything changed.
The Light of the Shard had cleansed her, and now she was cleansing the Blood of the Shard, the perfect naniates drawn into the Focus, merging with the others and altering their structure, fixing the damage the Seraphim had done. The red Blood began to change, shifting to a milky white as it passed through the Shard himself, out into the system and back to her hands. Once it did, it was drawn back into her, trillions and trillions of naniates running along her flesh, circling and then settling over her, crossing through her skin and beneath.
Her eyes began to glow, bright light spreading away from them as the Gift of the Shard filled her, draining from the Focus and settling into their new host. Her entire body tingled, alive in a new way.
She glanced down at the Shard. His body was pale. The wound was no longer bleeding. His chest no longer rose and fell.
The naniates were gone from him. The Focus was empty.
The flames around it vanished, the containment field falling away.
Abbey could hear King’s laughter behind her.
She turned to face him, the glow of her eyes fading while the Gift of the Shard remained. Both he and his soldiers vanished, all except the gray-skinned creatures.
It didn’t matter.
He wouldn’t be laughing for long.
42
“Anything?” Bastion said, glancing back at Gant.
Gant pulled another crystal from the Blaster, throwing it at one of the enemy soldiers. It hit the creature in the chest, not even hard enough to get its attention as it swung its blade at Phlenel. The Hurshin’s form solidified, becoming dense enough to deflect the blow. A second soldier stabbed at her at the same time, his blade sinking into her. She didn’t make a sound, grabbing the blade in her hand and holding her attacker in place while her bot punched it hard enough to break its neck.
“How do you kill a Hurshin anyway?” Benhil said, backing up behind Phlenel.
“Our main cortex is extremely vulnerable,” Phlenel replied. “But also difficult to locate.”
Gant turned the Blaster on again. Again, nothing happened. It was his seventh attempt, and all of them had failed.
He couldn’t do it. He was sure of that. He was going to get everyone killed. Bastion was wounded already. So was Benhil. Erlan had almost lost his hand. Pik, Phlenel, Uriel, and Jequn were holding their own, but even they were struggling to damage their attackers. The creatures slipped in and out of phase, materializing to attack, vanishing before they could get hit. They were also patient, taking a measured approach in their assault.
“It isn’t working,” he barked, failing to swallow his frustration.
When was the last time he had failed at anything? Before the lab. Before Eliza. He didn’t want to try to make this thing work anymore. He wanted to take his knives and start stabbing those fraggers. He could kill them. He would be more useful killing them.
“Pull another one,” Bastion said. “Do your best, Gant. That’s all any of us can ever do.”
Gant was surprised by Bastion’s calm, and his support. In Hell, he had always hated the pilot. Out of Hell, they spent most of their time arguing and bickering and calling one another names. But when the stakes were up, and the pressure was on, Bastion had his back. He appreciated it more than he would ever let anyone know, and it was the only reason he tried removing another crystal from the device.
It was still resonating as he pulled it out. A red one, large and sharp. He tossed it angrily aside, over their heads and into the distance, where a number of enemy soldiers were waiting for their turn. There was no need for them to be phased where they stood.
Gant wasn’t expecting what happened next. None of them were. The crystal hit the ground, sounding an echoing crackle as it did and breaking apart. Instantly, a massive wall of flame rose from it, spreading out and away along the fissure line and swallowing the nearby enemy. They screamed as it engulfed them, burning them away in the few seconds it was active.
“Oh, shit,” Benhil said, turning his face away from the heat.
“Damn,” Uriel said, doing the same.
“Whatever you just did, freak-monkey,” Bastion said. “Do it again.”
Gant looked at the bundle of crystals. That was the only red one they had taken. What would the others do?
He reached for a blue one at the same time the enemy creatures all materialized at once, over one hundred strong. They cried out, not in anger but in a suddenly joyful tone.
What the frag? Why were they so happy?
They chanted as they refreshed their assault, coming toward the Rejects with renewed vigor and energy.
What the hell had just happened.
Uriel grunted, taking a blade across his arm, his seraphsuit allowing the weapon through. Blood splattered from the wound, and his Uin fell from his hand as he stepped back, saved by Jequn, who blocked the follow-up thrust with her Uin and then drove her other weapon through the soldier’s neck.
“I think we’re in trouble,” Pik said, kicking one enemy away before slamming another with his metal hand. He was doing the most damage, his size and strength allowing him to keep their opponents back.
“Deposit that shit,” Benhil said. “We’re going to die.”
Gant growled and dropped what was left of the Blaster on the ground. He drew his knives from his lightsuit and bounced past the other Rejects, using Phlenel’s bot as a springboard to land deeper into the fray.
“Gant?” Jequn said. “What are you doing? Don’t.”
It was too late. He already had. He landed in an open area, quickly packed by phasing soldiers, who appea
red around him ready to attack. He jumped up, dancing along one of their blades, climbing it to the creature’s face and stabbing it in the eye. He flipped backward, rotating in the air, spreading his legs to avoid a second blade and hitting another soldier’s chest. He jabbed his knife into it, hanging from it and pulling himself up, wrenching it free as he arced into the air, coming down toward two more of the enemy. They swiped up at him, but he twisted around the blades, landing between them and removing their hands on the way.
Maybe his mind was failing, but his body was still able, and he had always loved a good fight.
The enemy cried out, their joy suddenly turning to surprise. They all vanished at once, leaving the Rejects apparently alone.
“Okay,” Pik said. “Now I’m really confused.”
Gant turned his head, knives up and ready for them to reappear. He stopped pivoting when he saw that the Shardship’s reactor had come to life, the dim blue exchanged for a heavy, pulsing wave of energy that passed along the neurons, sparking through the central mass. Dim lights grew brighter, distant mechanisms humming and echoing.
A soldier appeared behind him, blade ready to strike. He didn’t see it. He only saw Phlenel, who threw her blade at him.
He ducked his head aside, turning around when he heard the soft hiss of the creature as it nearly toppled onto him.
The fight reset, the enemy washing toward them. Gant rejoined the battle with the other Rejects, desperate to stay alive. The soldiers were different now. They seemed desperate, too. They had lost some of their cohesion and replaced it with pure fury, enough that Erlan cried out as a blade pierced his gut.
“Nerd, no,” Bastion said, seeing him get hit.
It wasn’t enough. The Rejects were too overpowered, and they couldn’t even see what they were fighting until it was almost too late. It was a fragging miracle they had survived this long.
They didn’t give up. They didn’t quit. They doubled-down, working harder to defend themselves and one another. Gant rejoined them, picking up Erlan’s spot in the circle, helping to keep his brothers and sisters alive for as long as he could.
