by A. R. Knight
It’s a blinding flash, accompanied by a burst that launches Sax, claws clinging to the heat stick’s top, across the wet, muddy yard towards the Flaum. The momentary stun from the flare has the Flaum bringing their hands down from their eyes in time to see Sax leaping from his ride into the middle of their formation.
Mud, fur, torn armor flies into the air and skips across the ground as Sax whips and snaps. His claws tear, his tail trips, and with every bite of his mouth, Sax disarms an enemy. Bas joins in seconds later, crashing into the Flaum ranks from the other side. The enemy is outclassed, outgunned, and it’s only moments before the prison’s guards are nothing more than shredded snacks set upon by the remaining prisoners.
Sax meets up with his pair in the middle, her scales, like his, coated in all the evidence of their victory. After a quick confirmation that neither one of them bears anything more than the lightest of burns, they head through the open gate into the prison’s landing zone.
The sole tower and barracks that makes up the prison’s living space sits on the far side of the clearing. The Amigga’s going to be in there.
“Ready?” Sax hisses to Bas.
“Very.”
They lope across the landing pad, and are almost all the way across when a growing microjet whine has them stop, wheel around, ready for some new threat.
Instead, it’s Plake, sitting at the controls of the cargo skiff. Agra-Red, assault miner re-acquainted with a power source, sits in back on top of a pile of pacified glimmer worms.
“Time to go,” Plake announces.
“There’s still an Amigga here,” Sax protests. “It deserves the same as those Flaum.”
“Oratus, now’s not the time for your bloodlust,” Plake replies. “Think bigger for once in your scale-brained life. We have to get out of here before that Amigga’s reinforcements arrive.”
Plake’s right, of course. They ought to be jumping into that skiff and letting the Vyphen carry Sax and Bas away into the sky.
But.
“This prison ends now,” Sax hisses, and he breaks towards the barracks as Plake fills the air with curses behind him.
The barracks and its tower have a wide double-door blocking the entrance, but it’s not reinforced like the gates. There’s no guards on the outside either, which lets Sax hit the barrier with all the force of his charging, tearing self. The metal rends, the door caves inward, then falls off its supports entirely.
Inside, there’s a wide room, a mess hall and rec area coupled into one. A lift wide enough for the Amigga and its exoskeleton sits at the far end, and Sax makes a line for it. There’s other people inside, more Flaum, but these are either the prison’s support staff or they’ve decided getting mauled isn’t in their interest, because they press back against the room’s walls.
Sax is content to let them live. For now.
Someone’s watching upstairs because the lift jolts before Sax can reach it, the doors shutting as it starts a journey up towards the second level. Sax keeps moving, digs in his talons and leaps, turning his shoulder as he flies so the Oratus crashes through the wall and the lift’s doors, sprawling into rising lift. Sax sweeps his tail in before it gets caught by the lift’s movement, then swings himself around so that he’s ready when the lift hits the next floor.
He’s covered in mortar, dust and broken bits of metal. So far, though, the mask keeps his scales intact, and aside from the constant aches in his bones from the falls, Sax is ready to go.
The feeling lasts until the lift’s doors open and the Amigga, fully suited up, sprays laser through the opening doors. The fire stitches a line in the back of the lift, missing Sax, who’s hugging the ceiling. After a few seconds, the steady fire stops, and the Amigga’s tuned laughter spills down the hallway.
“Are you going to cling up there forever?” the Amigga says. “Reinforcements are coming, Oratus. They’ll put down your little uprising without difficulty.”
An overconfident Amigga? Impossible.
Sax hisses, then uses his foreclaws to tear apart the lift’s roof tiles, sending them cascading to the lift’s floor.
“You won’t even slow us down!” the Amigga continues. “I’ll order up new collections and we’ll have plenty more broken Flaum here collecting glimmer worms before another day is out. You’ll have accomplished nothing, except killing innocent soldiers!”
Sax barely catches the last bit as he scrambles out of the lift and into the tight shaft around it. There’s not much room above him, save the magnets keeping the lift stable. Sax, though, doesn’t need much. The walls in this place are thin, clearly meant for convenience and not for standing up to assaults. He presses himself against the back of the lift’s shaft, then slams forward, crunching through the wall.
As Sax breaks through, he pushes forward with his talons, leaping as the wall collapses before him. The Amigga stands before him, wearing its exosuit, with this one sporting a pair of rudimentary miners attached to gimbals on the sides. Nothing like the fancier assortment sported by the Amigga Sax and Bas encountered outside the mag lev station.
Not that any equipment could make a difference here.
The Amigga tries to adjust its aim, tries to backpedal on those treads, but all it gets is one quick, missing shot off before Sax collides with its exoskeleton. Sax gets his talons into the tiled floor and pushes, shoving the Amigga - now shouting, pleading with Sax to stop - across the floor, through the line of terminals the forest of sparks they create as the Amigga’s armor suit obliterates their fragile screens, and out the windows.
The Amigga plummets down, cracking against the ground in a shower of mud. Prisoners, having broken free of their yard, descend on the creature, beating and breaking apart its protection with the mad intensity of species knowing their lives are forfeit and wanting to spend their last moments in revenge.
“Ready now?” Plake cries as she swoops the cargo skiff in front of the shattered window.
Sax meets his pair, sitting in the back with Agra-Red, and Bas gives him a nod. That’s all he needs. With another leap, Sax lands in the back of the skiff and Plake shoots them away. The Vyphen keeps them low, keeps their running lights off in the darkness.
It’s easy to see, though, the Chorus shuttles descending towards the prison, and the night’s broken when their heavy lasers start to flash into the yard.
At least they’re too far away to hear the screams.
23 The Mission
Ignos set its trap close to the gateway. The one that had closed behind me, the one that Ignos came through, that’s wide open as I drag Malo’s body towards it. Ignos said it was locked, that I was trapped. I shouldn’t be surprised at another Ignos lie, and it just piles onto the rest of me.
Every footfall, even in the soft landing of low gravity, comes with pangs. My body’s slowly going numb, and I stumble, but manage to get a leg out and catch myself. Not sure I could pick myself up again, after the bloody pool the first - and last - attempt produced.
My left hand hangs behind, clamped tight around the stone-frozen wrist of Malo. The warrior’s still breathing, which means the Sevora inside his head is still alive too. Lan showed me how to swap between a miner’s modes, and the blue flash worked as the Oratus said it would. Malo’s alive, even though I might not be for much longer.
The gateway’s a broad doorway when it’s open, at the top of a ramp that’s getting stained as I limp up it. I have my spear in my right hand - the miner’s useless for me unless I’m within a meter of the target - and as I hit the top of the ramp, my right leg decides it’s done and I catch my fall on the butt of the weapon.
“Guess we’re crawling from here,” I say to my friend.
Not that I have a plan. Maybe get back to T’Oli. In truth, I know I’m not going to make it that far. I hope, though, I can get close enough for T’Oli to find Malo. Maybe the Ooblot can find a way to remove the Sevora. Do what I couldn’t and save my friend.
I crawl through the gateway. Across the threshold to the gol
d flickers of the dead entertainment district. The low lights blur and stretch, winking away and whisking back to a beat of their own. The ship itself seems to tilt. Have the Sevora turned the seed ship on its side? Is this what would happen?
No. I’ve fallen over, that’s what. And I’m not alone.
Four Flaum crest the ramp, each one carrying a miner. Two raise their weapons and point them at me, as if I’m somehow going to summon the energy to fight back. Every breath takes a toll, requires weaving through a tangled web of broken nerves and rattling bones. All I can do is stare as they rip Malo away from me. With Ignos safely clear, the two executioners set their sights for a mortal volley.
I tried, Malo. Viera. I tried.
My ears are ringing, my hearing shutting down too, so the flashes play out like a dream. Heavy crimson, the shots wash out the darkness. The two Flaum aiming at me go first. They’re hit from behind and their stringy fur catches fire as the beams cascade into them. The other two, by Malo, barely get themselves turned around before the assault falls on them.
Smoke surrounds me as this district gets its first real show.
“Still alive?” T’Oli says, though the sound comes from another body.
Viera cleaves through the scattered smoke, lurching forward as the Ooblot moves her limbs, bends her knees and arms, though I notice her eyes blink of their own accords. Her mouth falls into a tight frown too when I offer her a smile, though since my face has gone numb, I don’t really know what I’m doing.
“Unfortunately, I cannot carry three humans,” T’Oli says, and the Ooblot lets Viera down gently next to me. “It does look like you’re very hurt, Kaishi. I’m not an expert in human anatomy, but that is a lot of blood.”
I open my mouth - I can tell I’m doing this because my chest isn’t yet numb, and the whiff of air leaking into my body gives my motion away - but only manage a cough.
“Yes, that’s the situation.” T’Oli forms back into its creamy puddle, both eyestalks dodging around me, getting in for closer looks. “How about we plug the hole right here?”
A sudden, paralyzing cold hits me from my lower back. My eyes pop open, I suck in air, try to scream and only half manage it. Before I’ve come down from the polar sting, though, T’Oli laces itself along my body. I feel the Ooblot knead through my fingers as it spreads itself thin.
“You’re going to have to help me, all right?” T’Oli whispers - a light slapping sound given most of its body is coating me. “I’m not much good at moving humans.”
I want to tell the Ooblot I can’t help myself, but then my hands shift a little; a push from T’Oli’s hardening, contracting body. I go with it, lending my tiny strength to the effort. It’s enough, somehow, to get me to my knees. From there, T’Oli pools itself beneath and behind me, then slowly hardens and shoves itself up, shifting me to a stand.
All the while, Viera blinks at me from the floor. I think I see her legs and arms twitch, but then T’Oli has me lurching around back into the residential district.
“Nobody’s going to have first aid in the party town,” T’Oli whispers. “But where they live? That seems more likely.”
I thought I’d be dead by now, but T’Oli’s support gives me energy, gives me hope, and I cling to it. The dark fuzziness still lingers on the edges, my muscles spasm and ache, my lungs feel like I’m underwater, but we go. Past the orange place where Ignos sought to trap me, to the next building, an ordinary square structure with oval windows and a dark door.
“Going to lean you here for a moment,” T’Oli says, and the Ooblot does just that, pressing me against the side of the building near the door.
The Ooblot slimes over to the door itself, a smaller, squat one I could barely fit through standing up, and presses itself against the metal. After a moment, T’Oli shivers, and the door shakes. There’s a sound of tearing metal, and then something bursts in the far side and the door falls back inside the house with a loud thump.
“Good thing there’s so few Sevora on this ship,” T’Oli says as it returns to me. “Else we’d be overrun by now. Between us, though, I think we’ve knocked out a third of them. Not bad for a squishy species like yourself.”
Unlike the home Ignos led me to, this building looks more ordinary. Straight halls with doorways lining the sides. Unlike the entrance, these are wide open in the lightless hallways. Ignos may have sent power to its chosen structure, but this one isn’t turned on yet. In a way, I’m thankful for the dark.
I’ve made it this far, and now, I try to tell T’Oli, I’m done. My legs can’t seem to rise anymore, even with the Ooblot boosting every step. T’Oli gets the idea, and we swerve into an open room where I collapse, with T’Oli’s gentle assistance, onto what appears to be a large reddish sponge.
“Be back soon!” T’Oli chirps and the Ooblot vanishes.
With it, so goes my consciousness.
I wake with a rush, in the same dark room. The only light comes through the window, flicks of the scattered blue lamps throughout the section. The first thing I do is breathe, and it’s amazing. Incredible.
I’m alive.
Somehow, I’m alive.
“Empress,” Viera’s voice is soft, and she’s leaning against the wall across from me. “Kaishi. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I try to say and it comes out a scratchy, hoarse mess.
“I failed you,” Viera looks down at the miners she has in each hands, as if admonishing the weapons too for their own failures. “I should have stayed on the bridge.”
“It would have ended the same,” I say. “How long was I out?”
Viera shakes her head. “There’s no way to tell time here, but I don’t think for long. T’Oli found some powerful creams. They woke me up the rest of the way too. I told the Ooblot not to give any to Malo.”
“He’s still taken.”
“I figured, seeing how panicked his eyes were when I looked at him.”
“Where is he?”
“Locked across the hall.”
“And T’Oli?”
“Keeping watch,” Viera says. “That Ooblot’s vicious. After getting you back here and reviving me, T’Oli skewered each and every one of the Sevora inside those Flaum bodies. Said the only way to be sure is to get the little suckers themselves.”
After what the Ooblot’s been through, a genetic experiment forced to flee into the sewers beneath the Sevora city on their homeworld, T’Oli’s probably got rage to spare.
“Good,” I reply.
Trying out my arms and legs is a cascade of miracles. Each one works, and while there’s plenty of itchy, poking pain, I manage to roll myself out of the bed. Viera catches me as I fall off of the sponge, and she helps me stand. I’m wearing, now, a set of loose-fitting clothes, the vests and pants meant for a Flaum, and one of the legs slips beneath my feet and nearly trips me.
“Have a knife?” I ask Viera, and she produces a strange-looking blade, a serrated edge against a silver-black haft.
“Careful with it,” Viera replies. “I took it off one of the Flaum. When you press this button here, it gets interesting.” She does so, and the edge buzzes, soft and sharp.
I am careful, and I use the blade to cut away the clothes so they’re less like a stifling, messy collection and more a set of functional, if ugly, rags. Nobody is going to confuse me for an Empress, but at least I won’t trip and fall on my face.
Now there’s two priorities. A few meters away from me sits the warrior I’ve been trying to get back since the moment I lost him. Farther afield, somewhere in this ship, are a pair of deadly Oratus being taken, every second, closer to their own capture by the Sevora.
I want to ask Viera what to do, but I already know. There’s only one choice I’ll regret if we don’t make it out of here alive.
“Let’s go see him.”
Ignos, and Malo, are still stiff and stunned. Their body, Malo’s body, is laid flat across another of the sponges, which must be what passes for beds around the galaxy. Malo’s eyes flick
towards me as Viera and I go into the room, though I can only tell they move because Malo’s pupils catch the sliver of blue light from the window. Otherwise the room’s too dark to tell much.
“Go and get T’Oli,” I say after we stare at Malo for a moment. “It’s time we gave Malo his body back.”
Viera puts a hand on my shoulder for a moment. Squeezes. Then disappears away into the building. I adopt her stance, leaning against the wall and looking at Malo.
“Ignos, I could hear people while I was stunned, so I assume you can hear me,” I say. In a way, the darkness makes it easier - it feels like I’m talking to Ignos like we used to, in the caverns of my mind. “You told me I was destined for greater things. That I would be the source of miracles, that I would save my tribe. You were lying, but you were right. You told me that Viera would be a good friend, that Malo had possibilities. You were using me, but you were right.”
I stand, move over to the sponge. Place my hands against its soft surface as I lean over and try not to wince at the lingering pain.
“You stayed with me through the sessions on Cobalt, you told me not to be afraid, and even though you were only saying those things so I wouldn’t leave you behind, you were right.” I stare into those eyes and I don’t know whether it’s Malo or Ignos who looks back at me. “Because of all that, on Vimelia, I chose to spare you. I did the thing you would have warned me not to - I gave my enemy another chance.”
I hear a pattering, slithering noise from the hallway. Times’ almost up.
“You taught that final lesson when you came back for me. Thank you, Ignos. And goodbye.”
T’Oli doesn’t need a command to know what to do, and the Ooblot catches the vibe of the moment and says nothing as its creamy self sluices up the sponge, surrounds Malo’s head, and slivers a piece of itself inside.
I force myself to watch. To see every small bit of the Sevora as T’Oli pulls it, struggling, out of Malo’s ear. As T’Oli sets the squirming nest of pointed tentacles on the floor. The miner’s barrel is almost larger than the Sevora itself.
