The Last Cycle Page 13

  RESEARCH AND ARCHIVES ONLY

  As if to confirm the words, the panel only lists ten levels, each of which is higher than the one we’re just leaving. Their labels are vague enough to be interesting - one level reads out Planets and Planetoids while another discusses Robotics and Mechanical Recovery. None of them, though, seem like they’ll take us to Bas and the other fighters.

  “Where do you think we should go?” I ask. There’s a brief silence, and then the quiet patters give truth to my suspicions: T’Oli has an opinion.

  “This is a dedicated lift, and I would assume most levels have lifts like this,” the Ooblot says. “Given that we’re likely to be pursued, and that the Chorus will know where we are the moment we leave this lift, I suggest we choose the level that sounds like the most fun.”

  “The puddle’s got a point,” Viera says. “Let’s go there.” The Lunare points to the sixth one above ours, a level titled Astronavigation and the Vincere. “Figure, if nothing else, we can get a glimpse of what kind of weapons we’ll be up against when the Vincere comes after Earth.”

  “You and I both know they’ll blow us up from orbit.” Nonetheless, I press the button. “If the Chorus doesn’t die here, humans are probably done.”

  “They may not hold the rest of your species responsible for your crimes,” T’Oli says as the lift churns to life, whisking us upward. “Humanity may yet have a chance to enslave themselves to the Chorus’ will.”

  “Is the Ooblot always this way?” Malo asks, and Viera and I give him our exhausted affirmatives at the same time.

  “We are, always, who we are,” T’Oli responds.

  The lift doors, thankfully, put an end to that conversation with a smooth opening. Beyond them is a level that, at first, seems similar to the one we just left. Terminals abound, and blue projections fill in most of the gaps in the dark room. Instead of landscapes, of worlds and recordings, these are floating images of ships and whole fleets. In the very center, surrounded by terminals, and down a slight ramp into the space, swirls what looks like a grid of glowing stars.

  “See anyone?” I say as we step out of the lift.

  My eyes aren’t picking up anything, though some terminals show things in the midst of being run - one has a recording going of some battle, another is showing the continued feed from the assault below. A couple containers of nutrient goop sit half-eaten on a small table made of the same white stuff that ought to have descended back to the floor after its use.

  “Looks like they were interrupted,” Viera says, coming up the center with me.

  “By the evacuation.” Malo breaks right, stepping around a slow-spinning image of a three-pronged ship that looks like it holds a single pilot.

  “Or us,” I say. “If T’Oli’s right, everyone saw what we were doing down there.”

  “And they chose not to stop us?”

  “They may have other priorities,” T’Oli says from my shoulders. “A small group of humans, easily defeated, may not be worth the attention of the guards at this time.”

  I get to the center and notice that grid of stars isn’t just a nameless work of art. Instead, each one of the pulsing spheres of light has a name, and when I reach out with my hand to touch the nearest one, it flashes and rises above the others. Then it floats to the middle of the grid, before, like an egg opening from the top, spreading apart and sending out countless little images. At first I’m not sure what I’m looking at, but then the blue light resolves the blurs into tiny ships, many clustered together. Like a formation.

  “Fleets,” I say when the words makes its way through my awed mind. “This, this must be every Vincere force in the galaxy.”

  I look down at the names again, hunting for one in particular. It’s not far from the one I grabbed at random - Kolas. I touch the sphere for the Oratus’ fleet, and the one I’d opened retracts and slides back to its place in the grid. Kolas’ ships blow into the space, and I note too that the word ‘Aspicis’ sits above the mix of craft. So the Chorus has the size and location of their fleets available in an instant to any of them. Back in Damantum, it would have been so useful to know where my generals were, what my hunters were doing or who was still alive after a far away battle.

  “Wake up, Empress.” Viera’s tone is tight. “Incoming.”

  From the lift behind us, next to the one we came in, a set of six Flaum emerge with their miners holstered and their mouths agape. Which, seeing as I’m a classified species standing in the middle of dozens of floating ships, makes some sort of sense.

  “Hi,” I say to them as they shuffle out of the lift. To my right, Viera’s hunkered down behind the terminals, the lowered central area giving her just enough room to hide. Malo’s found a place to hide to my left. T’Oli’s wrapped itself around my chest, but its eyestalks are hidden behind my head. All in all, we’re pretty well set for an ambush. “Can I help you?”

  One Flaum feels brave enough to take the lead and steps in front of its friends, closer to me. This one has a deep brown fur, pocked with patches of white. It would be pretty if not for the blue, over-sized Chorus vest hanging over its shoulders. Apparently it thinks I’m harmless because neither of its claws go for weapons.

  “Who are you?” the Flaum’s voice is scratchy, high.

  “Kaishi,” I say. If they don’t know who I am, then my name has to be meaningless. All I’m angling for now is a trip right to that lift they came in on. If we can get there without getting us killed, well, I’ll take it. “Human ambassador to the Chorus.”

  The Flaum sniffs. Cocks its head. “Human?”

  Our stimulating conversation is cut short before I can reply. Through the ever-present intercoms, a voice I recognize in its bland monotony comes through loud and clear.

  “These are the ones I ordered you to find!” Ferrolite’s command pours out around us. “Take them, and bring them to my shuttle.”

  The Flaum all jerk, like puppets on strings, at Ferrolite’s command. The lead one, with the patched fur, is the only one that doesn’t reach for its miner. Instead, its eyes widen at me as its mouth opens to ask the obvious question, “Will you come with us?”

  If we go with those Flaum and get on Ferrolite’s shuttle, we’re dead. As it is, we’re likely dead anyway, but I’d rather die fighting. I hope Viera and Malo agree with me, cause they’re about to lose their options.

  “Nah,” I say. “I’ve got better things to do.”

  For a second I wonder if the Flaum’s going to ask “what things?” but Viera doesn’t give the creature the time to respond. She pops up from behind the terminal and lets loose with both miners. I’m surprised to see blue bolts lance out from the weapons and wonder if Viera’s grown a conscience.

  I feel T’Oli forming up its usual sword onto my right hand. I shift the hooked bar tool to my left and take a running step through the blue lights of Kolas’ fleet towards the Flaum.

  And don’t make it more than a step. Malo gets there first, as the Flaum yanks a miner from its holster and aims it at me. My warrior slams his metal bar onto the Flaum, cracking its head and sending the creature crumpling to the ground. Behind it, the other furry Chorus forces dive and duck behind terminals, some sending back a shot or two our way. The lift they came in, too, snaps shut.

  “We have to get out of here,” T’Oli patters to me. “They’ll have reinforcements coming.”

  “Way ahead of you.” For once, I actually am. Seeing Malo down the Flaum has me reversing course, turning and heading to the level’s opposite side, where another pair of lifts glow beyond more terminals and floating depictions of ships and stars. “C’mon! To the other side!”

  “I’ll cover you!” Viera shouts. “Go!”

  I’m already moving. In the past, maybe, I’d have panicked at the idea of leaving Viera behind, but now I know what matters is getting to those lifts. Getting them open. Then we’ll find a way to keep the Flaum off the Lunare till she gets over to us. So instead I run and jump, dive and duck my way towards the far sid
e as an increasing number of blue bolts flash around me. The Flaum are getting braver, but they’re losing the accuracy battle as I get further and further away.

  The lift on the left is like the one we took here - pasted over with a dedicated level warning, because the Chorus value their scientists enough for two dedicated lifts. The lift on the right, though, is the same all clear gray like the first one we rode. I slap at the panel to summon the lift, then drop as a pair of shots slam into the wall above me. I’m not on the ground for more than a breath before Malo slides along next to me.

  “Made it,” he says, and I notice he’s added the Flaum’s miner to his mask. “You all right?”

  “Still breathing. Viera?”

  “Still shooting.”

  I nod towards the lift. “It’s coming.”

  Malo jerks around the terminal for a quick look, raises the miner and squeezes off a shot. There’s a sharp squeal back in the dark.

  “Viera!” Malo shouts. “Go now! I have you covered!”

  “Easy to say!” Viera calls back.

  I, without a miner or a good way to see what’s happening, sit with my legs bunched, ready to spring as soon as the lift’s doors open. It’s frustrating that I can’t shoot, that I can’t swing, but I suppose that’s the job of an Empress; depend on those you trust to make your plans succeed.

  The lift dings, the panel turns green. Malo’s still looking back towards Viera, still shooting into the dark when the doors swing open. When I see something that makes my jump, my rapid scramble for our escape die before it ever starts; a mirrored Oratus.

  It’s easier to see in the dim light here than the washed-out white and reds in the Chorus chambers. Here, the Oratus’ scales don’t quite know how to reflect the blues and black, and as a result there’s a hazy teal cast to the creature that lets me see its wicked teeth in all their glory as its head turns towards Malo and I.

  “Kaishi,” T’Oli says. “You can’t beat this creature.”

  The Ooblot’s talking like that because, in spite of the fear twisting and tying me in knots, I’m standing up. I’m stepping around Malo, who’s just noticing what’s come to find us, and I’m staring the beast full on.

  “Don’t tell a human what she can’t do,” I mutter to the Ooblot. The Oratus gets its giant self out of the lift, all three meters and more, and glares down at me. “Give me my sword, T’Oli. I’m gonna need it.”

  The Ooblot, at least, doesn’t ask questions when I give it a command. Its cream self, blotched now because of shots taken and scars earned on our journeys, grants me my razor’s edge, extending out from my hand half a meter. Sharp, deadly, and completely inadequate to the task at hand.

  “Give up, human,” the mirrored Oratus hisses. “You cannot win. Your species is not designed for it.”

  “Getting real tired of people insulting my species.” I step forward with my left, stab in with my right and send T’Oli’s point rocketing in towards the bottom half of the Oratus’ torso.

  If there’s one hope I have in here, it’s that all the terminals create tight quarters for a creature as big as the Oratus. It’s going to have a hard time dodging, jumping, or doing much of anything with its tail. So the Oratus does something stupid and tries to grab my strike. T’Oli does some lightning work and reforms itself as we slash, coating my wrist in its nigh-invincible skin and narrowing its blade to a needle’s point. The mirrored Oratus’ left midclaw closes on my wrist and its claws slide off my new armor, allowing my strike to slip past and deliver a solid stab.

  The only reaction as T’Oli gets a puncture’s view of an Oratus’ insides is a hissing snarl, and then the thing’s left foreclaw backhands me into the wall next to the lifts. It’s a hard hit by an arm as tall as I am, and I bounce off the wall and sprawl to the floor, only to find that T’Oli’s not on my right hand anymore. I push back, trying to force the cobwebs from my shaken head, and stand up. It takes two seconds for me to do that, which is more time than I should have.

  But the Ooblot’s saving my life again.

  T’Oli’s flowing around the mirrored Oratus like the most annoying bug you could imagine. Its Ooblot body slides along the mirrored Oratus’ scales, getting just out of the way of the creature’s claws or teeth. T’Oli’s not just annoying the monster either - I can see bits of its fluid form changing into tiny points and biting, piercing into the Oratus’ scales as they move.

  “We have to go, Kaishi,” Malo’s at my side, and he’s pushing me towards the open lift door. “Now.”

  “Can’t you shoot it?”

  “I tried,” Malo replies as we move. “The shot bounced off.”

  I have a litany of other excuses to try, but close them off as Malo pushes me into the lift. The mirrored Oratus finally manages to snare one of T’Oli’s two eyestalks and tears the Ooblot off its scaly hide, then flings my friend deep into the level. Those yellow-green Oratus eyes turn towards us next, and I slam the panel inside the lift, commanding the doors to shut. And as the Oratus’ foreclaws swipe towards us, the Meridia does what we need, and the lift doors slide shut.

  There’s the brief sound of claws on metal, and then the lift’s whisking away. To what level, I don’t know.

  But my friends won’t be there.

  16 The Small Galaxy

  Stars.

  Thousands. No, millions. More.

  The lift opens onto a light-less level brighter than any Sax has been to within the Meridia. Despite the inky walls, the padded black floor and the empty dark ceiling, the galaxy swirling inside this space makes it simple to see. The twinkling stars, the miniature nebulae, and the pulsing core at the center, though, make understanding much harder.

  The lift’s panel - the only concession to practicality Sax can see on the level - glows red, telling him his current hijacked ride won’t be going any further. So Sax walks into the starry swirl. At three meters tall, Sax is used to looking down at things, but here he’s in the middle of the lights. Unknown balls of blue and white fire dance by his eyes while clouds of purple and blue slide into and through his scales, appearing on his other side as though Sax means nothing in this level-sized galaxy.

  What is this? The question frays Sax’s drive, shunting aside the focus on the Priority Beam with a taste of the same wonder Sax felt on Nova, watching a star burst with Bas by his side. On that station, the point had been to relax, to marvel at what nature could create. This hits him in the same way, and Sax almost falls into its spinning spell before a voice speaks out:

  “Solis.”

  At the words, toned in an Amigga’s unnatural voice, the galaxy freezes its rotation. Then, with the slightest shiver, the stars and gas clouds blow out around Sax, vanishing into the room’s black walls. The push isn’t even - the galaxy’s center coasts to one side and a different star, at first just the slightest glow, takes center stage. Zooming in.

  The Oratus catches what’s going on and snaps his eyes from the spectacle. Keeps the two far lifts in view, with a quick snap glance behind him to make sure surprises aren’t using the distraction as an opportunity to claim Sax as a victim. But there’s no beeps, no whooshing doors. Nothing but Sax alone here with a voice and, now, his home.

  “We’re evacuating,” the voice speaks again and Sax catches it now. The First Chair. “I’m the only one of the Chorus still here.”

  Solis, a rocky wasteland of a world, spins in front of Sax, and the room itself flushes with yellow light from his homeworld’s star, lingering at the very edge of the projection. As Solis spins, the fertile green scar placed there by a species bent on growing another, comes and goes from view. Of the ships orbiting the planet, there is no sign. Not a military tool, then.

  “Why are you staying?” Sax hisses to the air. With the lifts locked, his choices are few, and if the First Chair is willing to speak with him, then the least Sax can do is hold the Amigga’s attention and keep it away from Bas, Evva, and the rest. “Shouldn’t you have been the first one away?”

  “The Choru
s changes over only in times of crisis,” the First Chair says. “I’ve allowed this pathetic resistance to arise. Responsibility demands I be the one to see to its destruction. If I fail, the Chorus will elect a new First Chair, one who will guide the Vincere in doing what I could not.”

  “So you’re the only one that’s not a coward.” Sax stalks closer to the planet, leering down towards it. Trying, and succeeding, to pick out those rock arches where he dropped from so long ago.

  The First Chair manages a laugh, a jarring series of blips that reminds Sax of a broken alarm. “If I fled, I would be executed for abdicating my duties. I stay because it is my only chance at life. Just like you, fighting when you should be dead.”

  “If you want to kill me, you’ll have to try harder.”

  “I don’t want to kill anyone. At least, I didn’t,” the First Chair says. Sax finds that hard to believe, but the First Chair drags the end of the phrase into a sigh, suggesting a truth made impossible by reality. “Part of running a civilization is coming to terms with the less savory parts of it. Learning that everyone will not understand or agree with you, and that they will hate you for your choices.”

  “Because your choices hurt them.”

  “Yes. Creating the Oratus did hurt many of us. Creating you may wind up being the end of our species, if we can’t shut down that insurrection going on below.” Solis spins away and the galaxy, or at least part of it, reappears.

  Sax stands in the middle of a collection of stars. Solis’s system hovers to his right, while a clustered band that includes Aspicis dominates the center of the level. The planets are too small to see, but as Sax focuses on any of the stars, the names of the systems appear like mist over the red, blue, white and yellow orbs.

  “This is our home,” the First Chair continues. “This small part of the galaxy holds most of our intelligent life. Without the Chorus, it would not exist. Even if space-faring technology had fallen into the grasp of every species, they would have torn themselves apart in war without us.”