by M. R. Forbes
“And you want to know what I think that means?”
“There’s more. Right before the Gift submitted, I saw a flash of blinding white light. Thraven seemed to think there was something to it, but-”
She stopped talking. Charmeine's entire face had changed.
“What?” she said.
“The Shard had the ability to communicate with us directly in our minds. It was always preceded by a flash of blinding light.” A tear ran from her eye. “I haven’t experienced that in so long. I wish I could have it one more time.” She looked away. “I’m not sure what it means for you, Abigail. The Shard is dead. He can’t talk to any of us. But this is the first time I’ve heard of it again in many, many years.”
“I don’t think it’s that,” Abbey said. “If it was, he didn’t say anything.”
“What if he was reaching out?” Jequn asked. “What if some part of him is out there?”
Charmeine shook her head. “And he’s been hiding from his servants all of this time when he could have been trying to speak to us?”
“I’m sorry,” Abbey said. “It was probably just my brain getting zapped by the naniates. Little fraggers.”
Charmeine looked at her again. “Yes, that’s probably what it was.”
Abbey could tell she wasn’t convinced.
A small message on the HUD told Abbey the transfer was complete. She disconnected the wires.
“It looks like the suit is all done. Thank you again. I need to get back out there and help finish up.”
“Of course,” Charmeine said. “I’ll join you. I haven’t done nearly enough to help us move out. Jequn, you should-”
She was interrupted by a loud, piercing siren. It echoed across the complex, momentarily deafening them all.
“What the frag?” Abbey said.
“Red alert,” Charmeine replied. “Sent from the orbiting ships. We’re too late. Thraven is here.”
34
“Shit,” Abbey said.
The alarms were still blaring, hurting her head. Something hit the side of the crater, causing the inside of the complex to vibrate.
“Let’s go,” Charmeine said.
Abbey grabbed her Uin from the old softsuit and shoved it into a pack on the new one. Then she picked up her holsters, slipping them on over the demonsuit, joining the other two women as they raced out of the room and into the main corridors of the complex. There weren’t many soldiers left inside, but the few that remained were joining them in the halls, dressed in lightsuits and weapons in hand.
“We didn’t get any warning from the satellite,” Jequn said. “And how did he find us so quickly? Father said it would take weeks.”
“I don’t know,” Charmeine replied.
“It doesn’t matter,” Abbey said. “He’s here, now, and we need to get the remaining units out.”
She heard gunfire as she neared the entrance to the bunker. Bastion was out there, unarmed. Frag. She moved past Charmeine and Jequn, calling on the Gift to give her speed. She burst out into the open, into a fragging disaster.
A transport was on the ground, enemy soldiers pouring out of it, attacking the friendlies nearby. Their forces were caught by surprise and were slowly getting organized, finding cover and getting their hands on weapons to counter the offensive.
Abbey quickly scanned the field, finding bastion on the ground behind the transport. He wasn’t moving.
She pushed off, leaping away, the Gift carrying her three hundred meters across the distance in one bounce. She landed beside Bastion, leaning over him. “Bastion,” she said. “Bastion?”
He looked up at her, throwing a punch. It hit her on the side of the head, but the suit absorbed most of the blow.
“Damn it, Bastion, it’s me,” Abbey said.
He stared up at her in the suit. “Another upgrade?” he said. “Queenie, you look like one of those superheroes from the vids.”
“Shut up and start shooting,” she said, handing him her guns.
He slid to his knees, taking them. “I take it Thraven is here?”
“You think? We need to get the Faust ready to go. We have to take as many as we can.”
“Roger. I’m on it. Cover me.”
Abbey stood, looking over the battlefield. Both sides had taken what cover they could find and were exchanging fire. She found Jequn in the midst of the field, a Uin in each hand, dancing across the lines. Charmeine was nearby, having gotten a rifle from somewhere and shooting into the enemy with expert precision.
She felt the Gift pulsing beneath her skin, eager to be part of the violence. She would give it what it wanted. She came out from behind the transport, jumping to a group of enemy soldiers fifty meters away. She landed in front of one, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him into the others with enough force to knock them all off-balance. She drove into them, picking up the Uin and slicing her way through the line. She didn’t know if they were Converts or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.
The sky rumbled above them, the clouds keeping the action above invisible from the ground. She found a second group of enemy soldiers and moved toward them, joined by Jequn as she started her attack.
“Imp, status?” she said, thankful she had completed the data transfer before the attack. The demonsuit not only had the Reject’s comm identifiers on it, but it had added Kett’s as well.
“Almost there, Queenie,” Bastion replied. “I think I was spotted, though.”
“Cherub,” Abbey said, hoping Jequn had her link open.
“Queenie?” Jequn replied.
“Imp needs backup at the Faust. Tell Charmeine to head that way. We’re getting out of here. General Kett.”
There was no answer.
“General Kett,” she repeated.
“Abigail,” he replied a moment later.
“Where the hell are you?”
“In the complex. I’m trying to direct the orbital evacuation.”
“What?” Abbey said. “The ships are leaving?”
“Trying to. We don’t have a choice. The Nephilim’s ships are going to tear us apart.”
“What about the Focus?”
“It’s charging.”
“Charging?”
“It takes time to build the energy and transport it from the Shardship. Time that Thraven isn’t giving us.”
“Damn it,” Abbey said. The rumbling was louder, and a dropship appeared through the clouds at the same time a pair of Shrikes passed in from the waterfall. “We need to get out of here, now.”
The Shrikes turned, angling toward the Faust. They had seen it sitting there. They knew it was their only way out. Thraven wanted Kett. Did he know he wasn’t on any of the ships? How?
Her eyes shifted to Jequn. No, she wouldn’t be a traitor. Neither was Charmeine. Bastion? She felt a lump in her throat. It couldn’t be. She refused to believe that. Was the Gift betraying them? Did he know she was here?
The Shrikes were closing on the Faust. The dropship was opening up. More soldiers jumped from it as it touched down and a ramp began to extend.
A mech appeared to her left, one of the few still on the ground. It started firing at the Shrikes, its shots going wide. Damn it. They started firing on the Faust, the first rounds striking shields.
Abbey watched the exchange. The Ophanim had used the Focus to alter the course of a torpedo. Could she do the same to projectiles?
She held up her hands, pushing the Gift toward the sky, thinking about the mech’s rounds adjusting course and hitting the target. Her skin began to burn beneath the demonsuit, the Gift flaring in response.
The Shrike began to smoke as the mech’s heavy slugs started slamming into the lightly armored rear of it. It spun out of control and exploded against the crater.
“Frag you,” Abbey shouted in victory. “General, let’s go.”
“I’m on my way,” Kett replied.
35
Gloritant Thraven’s eyes swept the area ahead of them as they cleared the di
sterium cloud. He smiled immediately, the presence of the ships in orbit betraying the presence of General Kett’s forces on the ground.
“We’ve found them, Gloritant,” Honorant Piselle said.
“Yes, we have.”
He paused a moment when his eyes landed on one of the ships. It was long and slender, itself almost the shape of a seed, with rows of energized tendrils running from bow to stern and spaced equidistantly along the outer frame.
A Seedship? He noticed another one further in the distance. Two? It was obvious he had caught the enemy in the middle of their evacuation. Cage had warned Kett, as he had guessed she would.
They were too slow to escape.
“Noviant Soto,” he said.
“Yes, Gloritant?” Airi replied.
She was in her quarters, practicing with the Gift. His lesson had been as effective as he had hoped, helping to unchain her from her past wounds.
“Meet me in the hangar. We’re going to the surface.”
“Yes, Gloritant.”
“Honorant Piselle, release the transports. Send two dropships as well. I want Kett and his companion alive. If any harm comes to them, the soldier responsible and their platoon will be destroyed.”
“Yes, Gloritant,” Piselle replied, relaying the orders.
“Gloritant,” Agitant Malt said. “We’ve been spotted.”
“And? Look at those ships, Agitant. They’re nothing. Dust. Target that one and fire.”
He pointed to one of the battlecruisers on the fringe.
“Firing,” Agitant Sol said.
A torpedo streaked away from the Fire, flashing in the black, crossing the distance in seconds. It struck the battlecruiser, shields flaring around it.
“It didn’t penetrate,” Sol said.
Thraven laughed, a sound the crew of the bridge was unaccustomed with. “They’ve improved their shields. Order all ships to open fire. Do not target the Seedships. I want them intact.”
“Your Eminence, they might get away,” Piselle said.
“They might, but those ships are irreplaceable. Warship Four is to launch two boarding transports to Target One. Warship Six will launch two transports to Target Two. Three squadrons of Shrikes each to penetrate their defenses.”
“As you command, Gloritant.”
Ahead of him, the other warships were releasing their torpedoes, sending them into the cruisers. Normal Republic ships couldn’t stand up to this kind of attack, but while the Seraphim’s offensive capabilities were pathetic, their defensive stance was challenging.
He preferred a challenge.
“Honorant Piselle, you have the command,” Thraven said.
“Gloritant?” Piselle questioned, looking back at him. He could see that she was afraid to take the responsibility.
“Your fear will cause you to fail, Honorant. Bury it, or if the Seraphim don’t bury you, I will.”
She nodded. “Yes, Gloritant.” She turned back. “Gloritant, Target Three is destroyed.”
“Excellent,” he said. Then he swept off the bridge. He had no intention of leaving Kett and Charmeine to his Converts. He didn’t trust them not to fail.
Besides, he was hoping he might see Cage again.
“Target Seven is destroyed,” Piselle said, her voice clear through his comm.
“Honorant, incoming starfighters,” Agitant Malt said. “Daedalus.”
“Launch a squadron of Shrikes.”
“Yes, Honorant.”
Thraven reached the hangar as the squadron was launching from it. He looked out into space through the force shield, noting the debris of the destroyed cruisers and the activity of the starfighters around the ships. Did Kett have the Focus with him? If he did, why hadn’t he used it yet?
“Gloritant,” Airi said, bowing to him as he approached.
“Noviant. With me.”
He led her to one of the Shrikes. It was identical to the others.
“Get in.”
“We’re leaving, Your Eminence?”
“We’re going to the surface. I’m bringing you instead of my Immolent. Do not make me regret it.”
“Yes, Gloritant.”
They climbed into the Shrike. The canopy closed over them. Thraven tapped the controls, bringing the craft online.
His whole body suddenly turned cold, every inch of him tingling. “The Focus,” he said, closing his eyes to absorb the sudden rush of power.
The Fire went dead. The lights went out. The gravity turned off. The force field keeping the vacuum of space from the hangar vanished.
Thraven opened his eyes, releasing the Shrike’s clamps and allowing the vacuum to pull them out and into the black.
“What just happened?” Airi said, turning her head to look at the Fire. It was completely dark.
“The Focus,” he said again. “They used it to kill the naniates that power the reactor.” And all of the humans they had collected to fuel it.
“It’s more than that,” Airi said. “Look.”
He looked. The Fire was dead, but it wasn’t stationary. It was being pulled toward the planet.
“What are you up to, Kett?” Thraven said.
He engaged the thrusters, pushing the Shrike forward, turning it to get a better view of the battle. All of the enemy battlecruisers were gone. Only one Seedship remained. A frantic battle was occurring around it, Shrikes from both sides locked in a deadly dogfight while the boarding transports waited to make a move on the ship. The telltale signs of disterium gas suggested at least some of the force had gotten away.
“If we were on it when it went dead,” Airi said. “We would be dead, too.”
“You would,” Thraven replied. He could survive without oxygen for a limited amount of time. Long enough to have escaped regardless.
He looked back to the Fire. It was still offline and accelerating toward the planet. Even if the Focus released it, there was no way for it to stop its descent. It was going to crash on the surface.
The Font was with it.
His body tensed. It was a smart move by the General. His Immolent would secure and protect the Font, but it would take time for him to recover it and Kett knew he wouldn’t leave until he did. If Kell was going to come under attack, it would keep him away until it was too late.
Damn him for the inconvenience.
He would find the Font later.
First, he would deal with the Ophanim.
36
Abbey charged toward the enemy mech. She couldn’t believe she was doing it. Running toward a fifty-ton hulk of humanoid metal that was doing its best to tear her to shreds. The ground was exploding around her, its aim off the slightest of hairs, its servos adjusting just a little too slowly. Her foot hit the ground one last time and she jumped, going in toward it, climbing until she got to the head and grabbed on. She activated the magnetic attachments on the pads of the demonsuit, keeping herself anchored while she put her hands to the side of the cockpit. A moment later, the base of it began to spark and smoke, the electrical connections between the pilot and behemoth severed by the Gift.
Within seconds, it was dead.
“Kett, where the frag are you, damn it,” Abbey shouted into the comm.
He had said he was coming three minutes ago. Three minutes during which the enemy had continued to gather, their volume increasing along with their firepower. Three minutes in which it had taken all of the remaining forces and way too much of the Gift to keep them from overrunning the complex and catching up to the General.
Part of her felt like she should have left him there. The only problem? He knew where the Shardship and the Focus could be found, and if Thraven caught him it was going to put them at an even worse disadvantage than they already were. Another part of her wanted to kill him herself. With the Gift flowing so freely, she was almost angry and unstable enough to do it, barely holding onto her last thread of sanity and keeping the naniates under control.
“I’m exiting the compound now,” Kett replied. “I’m sorry, Ab
igail. I was coordinating our defense. We used the Focus to bring down the Fire, and hopefully Gloritant Thraven with it.”
“You killed him?” Abbey said, hopeful.
“I don’t know. Probably not. Delayed him, at least. With any luck, I bought us enough time to finish destroying his base on Kell before he can stop it. Some of our ships are already on their way.”
“Without you?”
“Colonel Brink is with them. I gave him orders.”
Abbey jumped from the mech, landing in front of it. It didn’t move. Without the cockpit controls it was just a big hunk of useless metal and munitions. She sprinted toward the exit to the bunker, where General Kett had just appeared, flanked by Siddrah on his left.
“Queenie,” Bastion said. “We’re hot and ready to go, but we need to go now. It isn’t getting any softer out here.”
“I know,” Abbey replied. “We’re on our way.”
She reached Kett and Siddrah as a fresh round of fire started hitting the side of the crater around them, the bullets intentionally aimed wide to keep from hitting Kett.
“They want me alive,” he said. “Where’s Charmeine?”
Abbey didn’t know. She had lost track of the Seraph during the fighting.
“She’s not responding to the comm?”
“No. She might have lost it. Or it may have been damaged.”
“Imp, is Charmeine with you?”
“Negative, Queenie,” Bastion replied. “I thought she was with you.”
Abbey spun around. The field was a mess. Bodies, broken mechs, crashed Shrikes, a pair of dropships and a number of grounded transports. They had done well to hold the Nephilim back as long as they had, and even now there were soldiers under cover behind some of the wreckage, trading fire with the enemy. How many had she killed? She had lost count. She had a feeling as soon as she gave herself half a second to relax, she would lose the Gift completely, pass out, and wake to find herself hungry enough to eat one of the dead, or at least drink their blood.
