Ice war, p.19
Ice War, page 19
Mosam smirked.
“We’ll do our best.”
The rear door of the tumbler opened with a metallic whine as they circled toward the crash site where Ghost Hammer fell beside an artificial core at the edge of the vast control room. Yajain wrapped one arm around Mosam’s waist, activated her lifts with a whisper in her headset, and then stepped out of the tumbler.
They descended in core light toward the enormous bowl of the sphere’s floor. At ports around the middle of the sphere where the bridges held up the central bubble, small tyrant ships began to reenter the chamber.
Cold air rushed around them as they glided among palls of drifting smoke. Mosam flexed his fingers. The core weapon emerged from his arm and he looked this way and that.
“Three…four…five. Five little ships came back. But this place must be crawling with tyrants even without them.”
Yajain scanned the silver-paneled floor of the sphere for movement as they descended. Small structures protruded from the inside of the sphere in places, amid the towering slender holograms of pillars and the billowing semi-transparent images of storm clouds. She landed on the slope near Ghost Hammer’s charred crash trail. She set Mosam down.
He immediately glanced behind them at a nearby cluster of structures. More structures stood along the slope and a few more beyond the bulk of the wrecked banner ship at the end of the trail. Muted sounds of battle echoed from outside and the howling of internal wind filled Yajain’s ears.
One of the core columns on near the crash site diminished its glow, then flared even brighter than before. Yajain glanced at the core and made out the shapes of small scanners like the ones killed at Sifar and Calaim. Clusters of stony serpents circled each core as if it were that of a real pillar and the creatures were miniature solnas. Her eyes narrowed.
“Why do they have scanners in here?”
Mosam glanced at her.
“Those scanners could be bred in here, for all we know. Nobody ever recorded seeing one before Sifar.”
She nodded, then turned toward the wreck of the Ghost Hammer.
“Let’s go, before we get a welcoming party.”
He answered by swimming upward. His silly four-limbed arc movement looked more than ridiculous now. His lack of skill could get him killed. Yajain activated her lifts and then kicked into the air and easily caught up with Mosam. She treaded air to maintain position and looked ahead before checking behind them. Two wisps of steam rose from one group of small structures.
Yajain squinted at them and tried to gauge the distance between her and the edge of their cluster. She kicked with both legs to move sideways, slowing herself so she fell behind Mosam’s awkward movement by a few strokes.
Where is that steam coming from?
In her hunter’s ears, she picked up voices coming from around the wreck thirty meters away and closing. Most were deeper and more masculine, but none matched Lin’s commanding sound.
“The core is cracked. No time to see what we can salvage. Everyone, get your weapons. We’re climbing.”
Gruff voices assented.
Yajain picked out the magistrate, Lask, saying, “this may be a little too much excitement.”
She and Mosam flew low over the smoking remains of the privateer banner ship. A group of surviving mercenary crew, some thirty or forty people, mercenary crew members or Dilinian cablers, all of them, stood by the cage of broken windows and bent frames of destroyed terminals that had been the ship’s bridge.
They glided down, drawing attention from several mercenaries, as well as Lin. Her sister scowled.
“Did we lose your tumbler too?”
“Not least,” said Yajain. “And when we want to get out of here, we’ll need it.”
Lin nodded.
“Tell them to stay close to our crash site. We can help cover them from the floor.”
“They’re headed toward the bubble right now.” Yajain pointed at the center of the sphere. One of the additional arms on her shoulder extended its sword blade to point in the same direction. “We think it’s the control center for this entire sphere.”
“How sure are you about that?” Lin asked.
Mosam folded his arms and nodded.
“Positive,” said Yajain. “This sphere is gatebuilder tech.”
“Alright, we fly for the bridges.” Lin turned to her crew. “My orders stand for each of you. Head for that core.” She pointed at the nearest of the glowing pillars that stood out among the holographic phantoms that filled the room. “From there we take a bridge to the bubble.” She glanced at Yajain and Mosam. “You two. Stay in front of me.”
Lask waved a tattooed arm to direct the mercenaries. He held a coil rifle by its midsection in his other hand.
Mosam glanced at Yajain with raised eyebrows.
“Alright,” Yajain said. “Lin, thank you.”
“Thank me when we’re done here and Coe is headed to prison.”
Yajain grimaced.
“Focus on the tyrants. They’re the real enemy.”
The tumbler swung in low overhead, gun swiveling on its underside, long barrel moving to trace tyrant ships as they began to circle the crash site. None of the alien vessels fired. Faint rasping sounds like sandpaper being scraped over metal reached Yajain through her hunter’s ears. She turned from Lin, trying to pin down the source of the noises.
Three five or six-meter-long tyrants crept along the sphere’s wall from the cluster of structures where steam still rose. They carried beam weapons in their tendrils. Yajain’s eyes narrowed.
“Lin, we’ve got company.”
Lin walked around Yajain. She followed Yajain’s gaze to the tyrants. Her brows knit together. She turned to a group of nearby mercenaries.
“You four, set up here and protect our flank. We’re flying. Right now.”
Yajain turned to Mosam. He tapped a finger to his communicator and spoke to Tei Officer Sogun.
“Cover us, and we’ll cover you. Over and out.” He motioned to Yajain. “Let’s go.”
“Stay close to me,” she said.
They kicked into the air, leading two dozen mercenaries toward the glowing core before them. Halfway there, a tyrant ship turned in their direction. A thunderous crack echoed through the sphere as a shot from the tumbler’s rail gun smashed the tyrant vessel to pieces. As the wreckage of the ship plummeted toward the floor of the sphere, a score of tyrants flew past it on arc lifts. Each alien wore black and silver armor, with blades at the tip of each tendril.
Mosam slowed his flight. The glowing red core weapon emerged from his arm. The tyrants closed. A searing bolt of energy cut through them. Alien screams of pain filled the air, soon matched by the crackling and spitting of return fire matched by the mercenaries searing streams coil fluid.
Yajain met three tyrants as they descended around her. The swords held in the armor’s additional arms slashed and cleaved through tyrant limbs once aimed at her head and chest. Blows over the rest of her body recoiled from the armor. She kicked forward, angled between two tyrants.
Her vare blade fell into her hand and she cut one tyrant along the gas sac. Forced to maneuver on arc alone, the wounded alien sank past Yajain. She whirled to face the other two, her automated sword arms still cutting apart their sharpened tendrils.
One tyrant’s tendril wrapped around the wrist of a mechanical arm. Before she could strike them off with her vare blade, the tyrant cut all flight power. Yajain kicked hard to maintain aerial position. The falling alien’s bulk wrenched the mechanical arm out of position. A warning readout flashed in Yajain’s helmet, telling her the arm was broken. The sword fell from its grip and sliced the into floor of the sphere many meters below.
Yajain twisted and her other automated blade thrust into the dragging tyrant’s exposed belly. Blood splashed up the length of the sword and the tyrant released its grip. The alien fell away.
Blades from the third tyrant slashed along Yajain’s armored joints but found no weak point. She darted to one side, dragging the awkward bulk of her armor’s broken arm. The tyrant tracked her movements, then gave a roar and charged at her. She raised her vare blade and slashed along the alien’s side while tumbling past. Tyrant blood coated her right arm.
The surviving mercenaries ascended with her, Mosam, and Lin, and they reached the midsection of the core. There, a bridge connected to a ring of control stations around the twenty meters-in-diameter core.
The power each of these outputs must be insane, she thought.
Yajain landed on the bridge, Mosam at her side.
Lin and about fifteen mercenaries landed around them. Lask flexed his fingers on his gun stock.
So few made it. My armor is probably all that saved me.
Yajain turned and started walking toward the bubble.
“I’ll lead the way,” she said. “This armor can handle it.”
The bloodied mercenaries watched her as she passed them. Lin fell into step beside her. Mosam joined at her side.
The mercenaries followed, weapons shifting to aim at the tyrants and four remaining small ships that glided around the interior of the sphere. The tumbler flew under the bridge and then angle upward, flying toward the bubble.
Two tyrant vessels swooped over the bubble, weapons charged to fire on the bridge. Mercenaries dove into the air on either side. Their arc lifts kept them from falling far. Yajain sprinted under the first volley. Both small ships turned toward her as she neared the bubble in the center of the sphere.
Mosam called a warning as tyrant ships opened up a second time. Flashes of coil fluid spattered the bridge, charring the silver surface black. Yajain’s automated arm move with her real right arm to protect her face. Burning fluid burned through the metal of the artificial arm as Yajain rolled to one side.
Pain erupted through her right forearm. Blinded by flares of light, she stumbled and fell to one knee. The rest of the volley streaked over her head. She ducked to avoid the stream as it moved. She gazed at the tyrant ships through a haze of pain. The tumbler’s gun shot one down with the thunderous sound. The other ship circled over Yajain.
Mosam skidded to a halt beside her and raised his arm. The core weapon discharged a bolt of red energy and the tyrant ship above exploded. Yajain and Mosam leapt from beneath it as it crashed onto the bridge. The whole structure shook as the fallen scout ship tore off an upper layer of blackened metal, before rolling from the bridge and plummeted away. Yajain and Mosam huddled together, just ten meters from the central bubble of the storm sphere.
Her armor’s joints did not respond to her movement. She groaned at the pain in her forearm, but couldn’t see how bad the damage there might be.
“Let me out,” she said.
The armor cracked open at the back. She limped out of the paralyzed suit and onto the bridge beside Mosam. She retrieved her vare blade and held it in her unhurt left hand.
He put an arm around her shoulders. They steadied each other. Yajain turned toward him.
“Thanks.”
“I’m out of energy for the moment.” Mosam released a wheezing breath. “Let’s get to that bubble.”
They limped to the center of the sphere together. A dark shape moved within the fluid bubble, the form of a large tyrant, dancing like a music conductor using all six tendrils to direct the storms. Yajain stared into the bubble as the smells of burnt air and charred flesh drifted in the great map room, filling the holographic pillars with a stench.
Lin caught up with them. Mosam turned toward her. Yajain recognized Lin from the iron-hard footfalls.
“We’re so close,” Yajain said softly.
She and Mosam walked toward the bubble until they stood close enough for her to touch the surface with her palm.
“That’s enough, Mosam,” said Lin. “Step back from those controls.”
He squeezed Yajain’s aching shoulder, then turned to face Lin.
“Why? Do you think I’ll help the tyrants win the battle out of spite?”
“I don’t trust you.”
Yajain turned to see Lin holding a plasma pistol, trained on Mosam.
“Lin, we have to act now. The fleet won’t last in the storm.”
“I couldn’t make things worse if I tried,” said Mosam. “You know that, Lin.”
Her hand shook.
“Stay where you are.”
“Lin!” Yajain said. “Please, think about the others.”
Mosam held up a hand between them.
“Yajain, go on.”
“What?” Lin said.
“Someone has to save us.” Yajain took a deep breath and then stepped into the bubble with the massive shadow of the tyrant.
Within the bubble, the tyrant seethed. Tendrils lashed as the alien turned to face Yajain. She inhaled and found her lungs did not fill with liquid. The air inside the bubble, felt heavy, like the smoke of chaos and order fluids Yajain breathed at Haxos Mirror. The same sort of narcotic warmth filled her despite the chill within the bubble.
The tyrant floated in the air before her, completely unarmored and unarmed. She stared at the creature as it stopped directing the storms.
“Are you the leader here?” she asked.
The tyrant did not answer, but alien eyes moved to the vare blade in her left hand.
She took a step toward it, sending ripples through the bubble from base to top.
“Were you the one that wanted to invade this space? Were you the one who was after your version of paradise?”
The tyrant’s beady black eyes focused on her, watching her every move. She tightened her grip on her sword. The tyrant did not speak. Instead, its tail raised, injector poised like a scorpion. Yellow pollen began to drift from the stacks on its back. Yajain glared at the tyrant.
“I’ve killed tyrants before,” she said, “and I’ll kill you if you don’t stop these storms now.”
A harsh hiss issued from the tyrant’s mouth, followed by a wheeze and a shudder that ran through its entire body. It laughed at her. She walked closer, not feeling any of the confusion that came with breathing in the tyrant’s pollen. She stared at the massive creature.
“Call back the storms or you die.”
The tyrant’s harsh laugh became a leathery speaking, distorted voice.
“I could die in every moment but my order will not lose.”
The tail hovered over the tyrant’s back, poised to strike Yajain. She tensed her left arm, ready to block the creature’s blow, but the tyrant waited. Yajain paced closer, still not smelling pollen.
A heavy tentacle lashed out, striking at Yajain’s side. Yajain’s vare blade cut the end of the tendril clean from the rest. At the same moment, the tyrant’s tail stinger stabbed into her other side. She gasped and stumbled. The creature lifted her, pierced and burning with pain, on the tip of the stinger. The wounded felt shallow beneath her layers. She glared at the tyrant.
“Now you know. You will lose,” said the alien.
“I’m not the only one here.”
“You are the only one to enter this chamber.”
Yajain winced. Her vision swam at the edges as the tyrant’s mind-controlling poisons pumped into her system. The pollen smelled sweet in her nose. Her eyes focused on the tyrant, her friend, who needed to be obeyed.
No, he must be stopped. I have to stop him.
She slashed at the tail with a weak blow. The edge of the vare blade cut a bloody line along the curve of the tail, but it barely drew blood. The vare blade slipped from her fingers. The tyrant’s laughter filled her ears. The alien set Yajain back on the floor of the bubble and drifted into the air overhead.
“My storms are upon your people, human. Now watch, as I destroy them.”
He motioned and Yajain turned toward the outside of the sphere. She watched as clouds gathered at the end of the corridor where the fleet fought for survival near Calaim Hub. Lightning flickered. Tyrant vessels of all sizes emerged from the storm. They tore through gaps among the ships of the combined fleet, firing at will.
Yajain’s eyes welled with tears at the sight of so much death, so many people struggling in vain.
I can’t betray them now.
She turned despite the vice-like pain in her head.
“No. I won’t watch this happen.”
She raised one arm and reached to the edge of the bubble. She shoved at the liquid and it resisted, but clouds shifted around Calaim Hub. They’re at my command, not just his. She smiled despite the pain of her wounds and the splitting agony in her head as she resisted the tyrant’s control.
The tyrant roared and surged toward her. Its jaws flew wide and tendrils lashed to seize Yajain’s arms and legs. Yajain kicked upward, lifts active. The combined movements dragged the lightly constructed alien with her toward the edge of the bubble. Its jaws approached her face, breath hot despite the alien’s love of cold. A bolt of coil fluid cut the tendril holding Yajain’s wounded arm and allowed her to duck the bite. The tyrant shrieked with agony. Its teeth sank into Yajain’s shoulder. She felt every tooth in the alien’s small mouth cut into her flesh. She screamed.
The scent of burning flesh choked Yajain’s nostrils. Her head cleared as the tyrant’s jaws relaxed. Blood ran from the wound in her shoulder, but it all seemed more or less intact. She staggered backward as the tyrant let her go.
Lin lowered the coil pistol, it’s barrel steaming. Mosam stood beside her. He extended his right hand and a blade popped from his forearm, curved like a scythe. He launched himself at the tyrant. The scythe blade buried in the alien’s head. The tyrant thrashed and rolled and screamed, then fell past Yajain out of the bubble. Mosam released the blade from his arm and dropped to the floor beside Yajain.
Clouds roiled in chaos in the battle space around Calaim Hub. Chaotic winds sent ships, both human and tyrant, spiraling out of control. Yajain turned to Mosam, eyes still teary, and shoulder still bloody and throbbing, but mind clear.
“We’re not done,” she said. “We have to set things right.”
“How?” Mosam asked. “How do we control the storms?”
Yajain clamped a hand to her shoulder.
“They respond to movement on the edge of the bubble. Pressure on the bubble moves clouds.”
