The Last Cycle Page 5

  Weaving their way among these displays are more Amigga, along with scattered other species all in various degrees of finery. A few throw glances our way - it’s hard to tell with the Amigga, though some I see have those eye-like cameras on their floating suits - and freeze for a moment, trying to place us in their galactic lexicon.

  I try to give them a smile. Try to look calm, and not as overwhelmed as I feel.

  “I take it all back,” Viera says. “This is amazing.”

  “I know.” I’m struggling to fit the wondrous ensemble - even the air carries with it whiffs of tantalizing spice - into what I know about the Amigga, and failing. “I don’t understand how the thing that created Cobalt could do this.”

  Ferrolite, hovering in front of us, rotates around until what I consider its front faces me with its onslaught of wrinkling, massed skin. “Surely every human isn’t alike?” Ferrolite quivers for a moment. “You haven’t developed a hive mind, have you?”

  “I don’t know what that is?”

  “They haven’t,” T’Oli answers for me.

  “Then you should understand.” Ferrolite sounds a little relieved at the Ooblot’s response. “Some Amigga prefer the strict simplicity of an austere station. The Chorus, though, wants to let the galaxy’s unique creations display where its leaders can appreciate them.”

  “Like if you had a bunch of Charre tribal art hanging around the Vaos,” Viera says. “Nothing like a little reminder of what you control.”

  But Viera’s remarks can’t sour what we see as we follow Ferrolite, along with our guards, around that circle. From the outside, the Meridia appeared massive, but it’s only when I’m inside one of its levels that I understand just how big the structure has to be. We walk out of sight of the docking bay, following a path littered with glowing rocks, metal sculptures of creatures coated in what look like teeth, and what appears to be a huge, stuffed Fassoth set alongside a stretch of wall.

  Every so often, on our left side, towards the center of the level, the circle breaks into small passages. Each one of these is marked by an overhang bearing a pair of numbers. First it’s three and four, then five and six.

  “Sections,” Ferrolite says when I ask. “Every one of the dozen members of the Chorus has their own piece of the central chamber to call its own. If you wanted to visit with, say, Millinite, you would go along until you reached section ten.”

  “Which one is yours?” Malo asks.

  “I’m not a part of the Chorus. At least, not yet.” Ferrolite’s statement drips with the same ambition I heard in Jakkan’s voice, the same thing I heard when Jel spoke of our contribution to the Sevora, and what I felt from Ignos all those times it dove into its digressions about humanity’s future.

  “That’s what you want us for, right?” Viera says. “Kaishi gives up humanity to the Chorus and Ferrolite gets its big bonus?”

  One of the Flaum guards lets out a squeaking laugh at that, though the furry creature cuts it off quick when Ferrolite whirls around. “Achieving a spot on the Chorus is about more than simple accomplishment. You must also have timing. Right now, there is no vacant seat. Only when one is empty, would I even have a chance.”

  “Guessing that happens when you kill one of them?”

  I close my eyes for a second, shake my head. Viera’s going to get us kicked out before we even join.

  “Death does happen, but it’s rare,” Ferrolite doesn’t seem offended. “More often, we get bored. As would you, I imagine, if you spent cycles doing the same thing. Amigga leave to pursue their interests, and others take their place.”

  Ferrolite resumes the tour and I take the moment to drop back next to Viera, ask her whether she really wants to annoy everyone we meet.

  “Kaishi, just think of how good you’ll look next to me,” Viera offers.

  “She has a point,” Malo says. “There’s a reason everyone on Earth hated the Lunare.”

  “Humans are so strange,” T’Oli patters from my shoulders.

  It’s not until we reach section nine that Ferrolite brings our expedition to a halt. Unlike the other sections, though, this one has a massive creature in front of it, one I don’t clearly see until we’re standing within a couple of meters. It’s as though the light - here, mostly white - bends away from its bulk, rendering it a shimmering distortion in my eyes rather than a solid object.

  “We’ve arrived,” Ferrolite announces to the thing when we come up. “I have the humans with me.”

  “The Chorus has other business now,” the creature replies in a steady stream of hisses. I recognize the speech and glance at Malo, whose own set face says he knows that sound too. An Oratus, but one that looks far different from what we’re used to. “You’ll need to wait.”

  “This is a new species! They wish to join,” Ferrolite protests. “You can’t delay this.”

  “It’s not my choice to make, nor yours,” the Oratus replies. “The First Chair is well aware of your arrival, and the induction will happen when the Chorus is ready for it. Take them to a waiting room.”

  Ferrolite sputters out a curse in a language I don’t know, then turns towards us. “Come with me. We’ll find a space for you somewhere. It shouldn’t be long.”

  Yet we don’t manage more than three steps away before the Oratus hisses at our backs, “Ferrolite, the Chorus will see your new species now.”

  Viera cracks a laugh, and I suppress my own. I’d seen my father, I’d seen the Charre Emperor make similar snubs. A bit of playing with pride to make sure a player didn’t forget their place. Ferrolite realizes it too, yells at the Flaum guards to leave, then tells us to follow it inside.

  As we walk by the massive Oratus, I feel the hot breath coming from its vents. It’s both gross and alien, a reminder that we’re in a place I don’t understand, about to join with a galactic empire that views humanity as one more jewel in its collection.

  6 The Show

  The lift doors open to a level Sax has never visited, but has seen many times before. In front of Sax, past Kah’s shoulders, a central space with a broad white circle dominates most of the level. Across from these lift doors stand a second set of the same. On either side of the central chamber are tall glass walls adorned with black-painted cameras angling towards that white space in the middle. On the glass walls themselves, which Sax sees as Kah pulls him floating into the room, a broadcast is playing.

  Cavignum, the giant power plant sitting on the edge of Aspicis’ long night, glows orange on the walls. Skiffs and other ships, plenty with various flashing lights, surround the structure. Apparently it’s still under an emergency guard after Sax and Bas tore through it. The sight blooms a bit of warmth in Sax’s ring-restricted stomach; always satisfying to see a good result.

  Kah places his prisoner over the white circle in the center of the room, and orients Sax towards the glass wall with more cameras, all of which sport small red lights aiming towards his face. Sax isn’t one for chills, for nervous tingles, but being here, in this room where so many traitors to the Chorus have died, nonetheless gives him an uneasy twinge. The last type of demise an Oratus wants is one of summary execution. Not much honor in that.

  A shape moves behind the broadcast and one of the panels, showing Aspicis’ vine-covered surface to the right of Cavignum, blinks off as the glass wall’s door opens and another Amigga floats out. Unlike the First Chair, this one has little more than a simple micro-jet platform and a harness with a quartet of small, nimble-looking three-fingered hands. It orients towards Sax and stares at the Oratus without speaking for a long moment.

  “It’s been quite some time since we’ve had one of you,” the Amigga says, and unlike the First Chair’s metallic tone, this one bears a scratchy whine, a voice chosen to annoy, to drive away conversations so its owner could return to wanted silence. “The smaller species fit better in the frame, but we’ll make do. Set him down.”

  Kah hisses and does what the Amigga asks. Sax sinks to the white spot, which, when his talons touch i
t, flows up and around his legs. Around his tail. Latching and sealing Sax. Where, with the rings, Sax could lean from one direction to the other, could swish his tail, here Sax is kept rigid. The sole advantage? With the platform wrapping him, the rings loosen up. Let Sax breathe in full.

  There’s a reason for this. One Sax knows because he’s seen this play out before - they’ll want a confession, a public acknowledgment of how right the Chorus is. Most of the prisoners refuse to give it, seeing as their death is a certainty, but the Chorus always asks. Always gives its victims one more chance to plead for their lives.

  “Looks like you were part of the Vincere,” the Amigga says once Sax is secure. “Not sure why I’d think anything different, except the Vincere usually does a better job of killing its own traitors. Suicide missions and the like. Still, you’re here now, which means you’ve got a choice. The First Chair told me you have one last chance to talk. Say everything you know about the enemy and we’ll leave these cameras off. Have Kah here finish things quick and private. Let nobody know your shame.”

  Sax glares at the Amigga. The orb does nothing in response.

  “Or, if you keep quiet, as that look says you’re going to, then these cameras are coming on in a few minutes. They’ll tap into the Priority Beam, sitting atop this tower, which will shoot out your pathetic death to every corner of the galaxy. All of the people you served with, every planet you went to, each of the species you threatened with those shiny claws of yours will know you’re getting a traitor’s fate.”

  The Amigga’s words cut deeper than anything Kah, anything the First Chair said. It’s how the Amigga presents Sax’s situation; as a fact. A cold, hard reckoning that Sax will be remembered as nothing other than a failure, a waste of a soldier who couldn’t even serve his own creators effectively. With those words comes a certain future, where Evva’s force is squashed and all of the accomplishments Sax and Bas achieved with the Vincere are erased by their reckless choice to aim for something higher than their orders.

  A traitor’s fate.

  Is Sax ready for that?

  There’s a flash on the glass that catches Sax’s eye, a quick spray of words as the focus shifts on Cavignum. Tilts in closer to say repair crews are on site, that engineers are working through the software and other mechanisms to make sure operations are unaffected. The words shift again to warn that brief power outages may be necessary as Cavignum resets itself to proper working order.

  “What’re you thinking Oratus? Don’t watch that. It doesn’t matter to you.” After the Amigga says the words, the broadcast dies away. “Tell me what you want. It’ll be your last choice in this life, so make it carefully.”

  Yet Sax is distracted by the now-gone image of Cavignum. Those flashing lights and the panicked broadcast a sign that his struggles haven’t been an utter waste. They have accomplished something, though the sum-total of the result is still being determined.

  Nobaa and Engee, a pair of Teven engineers, ought to be inside Cavignum by now. Their reedy bodies would be making a beeline for the power station’s command center, where they can, where they could, control access to the Meridia’s outer locks. Kill the power, and Evva’s team has a chance to enter. Black out security alerts, and reinforcements will be slow in coming. A chance that’s only possible because Sax gave himself up.

  That’s why he’s here. That’s why Sax can accept his fate: he’s not a traitor, he’s a fighter. A believer in something better than the universe he was born into.

  So Sax flashes his teeth at the Amigga and gives a long, low hiss. One that says exactly what’s coming to the Amigga if, when, Sax breaks free from this white mold.

  “Right. That’s all I can expect from your type,” the Amigga says, then laughs. One of its metal hands raises up, and from behind Sax another one of the doors opens and a pair of ever-present Flaum come out. Unlike the First Chair’s guards, these have no weapons, no armor; a simple green-blue vest with the Chorus patch gives away their position. “Set the frame and let’s get ready to show this Oratus out of his life.”

  The Amigga vanishes back through its door, and the Cavignum broadcast returns, while the two Flaum burst into chittering motion. Using small, handheld terminals, the Flaum circle around Sax and align the cameras, which chirp to acknowledge the commands as they shift their shots. The action is both boring and infinite, as Sax stews in the thoughts of his own demise while publicity needs stall it further and further.

  Until, at last, the two Flaum form up again to Sax’s right, between the glass wall doors, and announce their work complete.

  “Then get back to your stations,” the Amigga announces from its hideaway behind the glass wall. “Swap the Priority Beam from Cavignum to this room and let’s go.”

  The Flaum disappear and, seven seconds later, the image on the glass in front of Sax changes. He sees himself now. Locked into the white platform, staring at the glass projection. The screen shifts, showing Sax from a variety of angles, and Sax is so immersed in his own dirty gray scales, in the scars and the metal plates, that he doesn’t realize the Amigga’s talking. Going on and on about how Sax is a traitor to this and that, an enemy of the Chorus and deserving of a slow and painful death.

  Sax has heard it all before and tunes it out. Instead he focuses on the image, tries to look strong. Confident. There’s every chance that Bas is seeing this. Every chance that this is going to be the last time she sees her pair.

  He wants her to be proud. He wants her to remember him.

  So when the Amigga pauses for a long second, Sax widens into a toothy grin. Brings in a deep breath.

  “Stop. Cut the feed,” the Amigga snaps. “Switch to the ground channel. The Meridia. It’s the new priority.”

  And Sax is gone from the glass, replaced by a wide view of the Meridia’s front entrance. A wide stone courtyard with pools of purple nutrient goop funneling up towards a set of steps, bordered by escalating ramps to accommodate other species, leading towards a large, sectioned blue gate. A giant, pressed in C is smashed into the center of the barrier, and it’s right into the middle of it that the first shot strikes. A red bolt, too small and weak to do real damage, the shot burns a black mark into the Meridia’s flagship doorway.

  A signal.

  The attack is starting.

  Sax realizes the true significance of that first shot. It’s not about making a mark; it’s proving the Meridia’s defenses are down. An energy assault should have been blocked by the Chorus’ protections, should have been swallowed up by the barriers meant to keep what’s about to happen from, well, happening.

  If there’s one advantage to getting a broadcast execution, it’s that Sax has a perfect view as the assault begins. The Meridia’s cameras pan wide to show a barrage of skiffs, large and small, converging. A number of Chorus guards, two dozen or so, turn and run at the sight of the force, retreating back towards the gateway. There’s no weapons down here. No exterior defenses beyond the shields.

  Why would there be? With the Vincere protecting the planet from orbit and the Chorus restricting the numbers of people allowed on Aspicis, assembling any force large enough to assault the Meridia should be impossible. Yet, here it is. Dozens and dozens of Flaum, scatterings of other species, and a trio of Oratus led by Evva’s black and red form come streaking into the picture.

  Blue flashes lance from the buzzing skiffs down at the fleeing Chorus forces, slamming into the Flaum and stunning them, leaving bodies lying on the white stones. Even as Sax himself feels the urge to lash out, to strike down the enemies, he understands why Evva isn’t shooting to kill; those who serve the Chorus today might serve its replacement tomorrow. The only true enemies here are the Amigga.

  Sax feels a claw touch the back of his neck.

  The Amigga and the mirrored Oratus.

  “A delay,” Kah hisses. “Don’t get any hope from your friends. We have plenty of defenses here to deal with them, and the Vincere will scramble air support. Their end will be like yours; swift, and
seen by all.”

  “Maybe, but you’re looking like a bunch of cowards now,” Sax hisses back.

  Kah seems to agree with his captive, because the Oratus lifts a claw and hisses out a question to the Amigga as the Chorus defenders continue to crumble in front of the onslaught. Now the skiffs are landing, and Evva’s forces are running towards that big gateway. They’ll be there in a moment, and if Nobaa and Engee succeed, that’s when they’ll take control of Meridia’s power and yank that door open.

  “Switch back to the execution?” the Amigga intones from behind its glass. “You’re right. This isn’t doing our image any favors.”

  The broadcast flips again, back to Sax. Kah’s in the picture now, the Oratus looming over its captive, ready to deliver the blow.

  “Ready?” Kah hisses, but not to Sax.

  “I’ve been waiting,” Sax replies anyway.

  “It lacks the ceremony,” the Amigga calls. “But go ahead.”

  “Goodbye, traitor,” Kah says, and Sax watches the image as Kah squats to Sax’s level, the reflective scales blurring Kah’s body in the light. The mirrored Oratus’ jaws open, head towards Sax.

  The lights don’t flicker; they die. Even those pinprick points on the camera. The white mold keeping Sax in place dies too - melting to the floor in an instant as the electric current keeping its form vanishes. Sax isn’t ready, but his talons are already on the ground, so they catch his fall. Instinct works next - with a snap of his jaws and a rolling, slashing move, Sax parts the loose rings from his scales before Kah manages to take control. The mirrored Oratus instead closes his teeth on air, the whoosh of the move brushing over Sax’s tail.

  Sax has no mask, and he can’t see in the dark, so he follows the smells. The sounds of the glass doors opening and the Flaum rushing into the room. They’re yelling out to catch Sax, which is about as much as they get from their mouths before the Oratus, leaping through the air like silent death, hits them and drives the furry creatures to the floor with his mid-claws. Taking a guess as to Kah’s approach, Sax whips his tail as he lands and gets a satisfying whack out of the move. Kah takes the hit and stumbles into the glass wall, which, in a testament to the materials the Chorus used in their flagship tower, doesn’t break.