Creator's End Page 8

  The Queen’s huge up close, her shell riddled with cuts and dents from a thousand fights. The egg sack pulses deep red, and Sax’s talons pick up the constant vibration of a thousand unborn bugs quivering beneath him.

  The Oratus has a moment before he’s crushed by the Queen’s protection. One chance.

  Sax jumps. Leaps and grapples the Queen’s body, scrambles around the joint between her head and abdomen until he’s on the Queen’s back. Which is where the swarm catches him.

  The pollen-chasers follow their Queen’s order to the letter; attack and destroy the intruder, tear him to pieces. Only Sax makes himself a difficult target and uses the Queen’s bulk to send the biting bugs into each other, into the Queen herself. Bugs slam into the carapace around Sax, grappling for a bite before the next diving bug knocks them away.

  Sax earns one cut after another as scrabbling mandibles and claws find their marks, but the Oratus stays true to his goal; get the swarm around the Queen, get them attacking her as they attack him.

  The Queen plays her part, shifting around and snapping at pollen-chasers as they bash and climb her to get at Sax. She’s his own defense, driving away her defenders in a panicked frenzy to keep herself on top of the egg pile she’s so committed to growing.

  Sax feels a moment of chaos - when there’s so many bug bodies pressing into him, smashing and biting each other more than the smaller Oratus - and enacts his escape. He’s made steady progress down the Queen’s body, rolling and slashing, kicking and jumping, that the large egg sack bulges out beneath him. Sax takes another three slashes across his back, feeling scales peel away, and presses through the bugs onto the sack itself.

  And Sax goes through it.

  Tooth, claw, and talon play equal roles in the digging, and Sax sates his own hunger in the brutal process. The egg shells form their own barrier as Sax works deeper and deeper, the broken, ruined eggs falling around him, burying him.

  Protecting him.

  The noise outside is terrifying; the Queen’s found some way of working her mandibles into a constant screech, and the thunder of a thousand pollen-chaser wings rattles the mound. Sax only goes deeper, until he reaches the bottom of the egg pile and the hard ground beneath it. There, covered by meters and meters of unhatched pollen-chasers, he finally takes a breath. Listens to the chaos play out.

  Without a target, the pollen-chasers and the Queen turn on each other, parlaying momentary slights and scratches into deadly duels that send the bugs careening into the sides of the mound and, often, into other pollen-chasers, turning two-bug slugfests into quartets of slicing, biting misery.

  Sax sees it all through the smeary red translucence of the eggs, taking what breaths he can spare. Pollen-chasers who don’t survive the fighting start to pile up on the bottom, on top of the eggs. A mortal tent for Sax to hide beneath.

  Bas would be impressed.

  Bas will be impressed when Sax tells her about this.

  After he saves her.

  7 Escape Plan

  The projection is waiting for us when we follow the orange lines up the ramp to its room. Its misshapen face grins as we walk in, though I wish it wouldn’t. There’s something about that eerie smile that suggests all kinds of unpleasant things.

  “You’ve succeeded,” the projection states. “Thank you.”

  Then it looks over my shoulder, to Vee-T’Oli, and here its smile vanishes.

  “And you’ve found our intruder.”

  “He found us, really,” Viera says. “Told us what happened here, too. Unlike you.”

  The projection looks towards her. Doesn’t change from its flat expression. “I have parameters. My first priority is to open the vents, and to do whatever is necessary to accomplish that task. Now that it’s done—”

  “You’ll tell us how to get back home,” I interrupt. There’s been enough long-winded speeches in here, and my ears are picking up a noise from below, one that sounds too much like the screams we left behind. “Now.”

  The projection seems to stutter, the light breaking for a second, before it snaps back to existence in the center of the room, its blue-white shades flickering as it turns towards me. “Apologies,” the ghost says. “This data is somewhat corrupted. I have not accessed it in a very long time.”

  “That’s not what I asked for.” I slide my hand to my waist, a signal for Viera to draw her miner. “Our exit, please.”

  If the projection notices or cares about the weapon now pointing its way, the ghost doesn’t show it. Instead, it motions to the left side of the room, where a sealed door suddenly blinks to life and shunts open.

  “If there is still hope for you, it lies at the end there.” The projection says.

  Vee-T’Oli’s already moving towards the opening, taking their cue from the definitely-growing chorus of noises behind us. I’m not waiting either, and, with Viera following me, all of us dash from the room into the new path.

  “Thank you!” the projection calls after us, echoing with faint malice.

  I don’t have time to think about why the projection wanted all those disasters freed. It’s not like there’s anywhere for them to go, any food for them to eat, unless Vee left some nutrient goop behind.

  Of course, they could eat us.

  The tunnel, though, makes it hard to speed up. Like the other paths, this one is littered with debris, though not the smashed junk piles and bones, but instead patches of caved-in walls. Broken ceiling panels hanging low, forcing us to duck and weave our way around. The damage causes gaps in the orange lighting, making the run a sprint through a gauntlet of shadows.

  “What do you see?” I call ahead to Vee-T’Oli, who, with the Oratus’ legs, are moving faster than Viera and I.

  “Nothing so far, the hallway simply continues,” T’Oli calls back. “It’s a weird way to build, if I’m being honest.”

  “The Ooblot talks too much,” Viera huffs behind me.

  I find T’Oli kind of charming, a welcome respite from the tense straits tightening the rest of us, but I don’t bother saying that. Instead, I jump over a collapsed beam, dance around a broken sidewall and the mound of rock and dirt that’s poured through. Keep on moving, keep on moving.

  Because I can still hear those screams.

  The corridor goes on for a long ways - though it’s hard to tell distances when your only reference point is the flashing half-tail of an Oratus waving in front of you. I’m sweating, breathing in the musty air hard with every breath, but I’m not going to stop.

  “They’re still coming!” Viera says behind me. “Why are they chasing us?”

  All we have to go on is their voices. That endless moaning and shouting. We’re moving fast enough that, to my ears anyway, the things we set free haven’t made up any distance, but it’s clear they’re in the hallway now.

  “They want to say thank you?” I reply.

  “Almost to the end!” T’Oli yells from the front, riding on the Oratus. “I would say another ten seconds or so and you’ll make it.”

  Ten more seconds of side-winding, hurdling jumps, and ducking under collapsed crud has us making T’Oli’s guess come true. The question, though, is where we’ve gone. My first thought, coming out of the hallway, is that we’ve gone back to Vimelia, to the spaceport. The chamber is huge, with a strictly arched ceiling where, in several places, torn holes have let rocks crumble.

  The chamber’s floor is one of packed dirt, and it holds two cross-shaped shuttles. Ships with bulky, circular middles sporting four branches off of the sides. Both are painted a glistening yellow, and both bear, on their fat sides, Ignos’ black design.

  “I think that’s our way out,” T’Oli says, pointing Vee towards the closest shuttle.

  Except I can’t see an exit. There’s one wide tunnel that, I think, was meant to be the way out, only it’s entirely collapsed. Broken beams, rocks and deep brown dirt clog the way.

  “Where would we fly it?” I say as I look around, hoping for an option.

  “Whi
le you figure that out, we’ll see if it still runs,” T’Oli announces, then heads for the ship.

  “Always taking the hard problems,” Viera says, moving next to me. “Don’t suppose you have a shovel in that pack of yours?”

  I shake my head, not that it would matter anyway. “We wouldn’t have time.”

  Viera takes a few steps into the vast space. Looks towards the tunnel, towards the ceiling. “How far up do you think this goes? Close to the surface?”

  I don’t know. “Probably?”

  There’s a hissing noise from the closer shuttle, and I look to see T’Oli-Vee bound up a lowering entrance ramp. If nothing else, maybe we could hide in there until the creatures went away.

  “Come with me,” Viera says. “Let’s see if we can get the other one working.”

  “The shuttle?”

  “Yes, the shuttle.” Viera heads across towards the second one and, not wanting to be left to the encroaching screams alone, I follow.

  From underneath, the shuttle’s four wings reveal a series of four... holes on each. Metal slats cover each of them in a lighter gray that stands out against the flower-yellow paint. I’m trying to figure out what the marks do while Viera takes stabs at a clear panel on the front of three landing struts.

  “Any ideas?” I ask her, throwing a look back towards the way we came.

  No creatures yet.

  “We should’ve asked T’Oli,” Viera grumbles. “I thought it would be easier.”

  T’Oli and its captive Oratus are still in their shuttle, and the only thing I’ve seen them do is turn on a number of exterior lights, popping glowing white bulbs all across the craft. Not that I’m unhappy with the extra illumination - the orange lines coating every ceiling in this place are high above here and things get dim on the floor.

  “Let me take a look,” I say, heading over.

  Viera touches the panel as I approach - it’s a little wider than her spread hand, bolted against the metal strut - and the screen flashes red at her pressure. No ideas come to me, but then, I have something on my wrist that can help with that.

  “Don’t let anything jump me for a minute.” I raise the Cache, look at its dull green-brown surface, and focus.

  There’s a green flash, and then I’m inside.

  I think of terms: shuttle, controls, boarding ramp and images flood the mental space around me. All kinds of different craft, terminals, and things I don’t recognize flash and float. At first I’m lost in a sea of gray shapes, then I remember the paint. Take away the yellow, the black design, and look for the cross.

  The Cache reads my idea and most of the ships disappear in a poof of nothingness, leaving only a few, one of which is the right shape and size. I focus on it and then it’s just me and the shuttle in a vast emptiness. I bring back the idea of control panels and different sets appear, some on all three struts, some standing alone.

  There’s only a pair that apply to the front strut alone. I go for them, and narrow the choices to the one we’re working with. From there, I think a single word.

  Open.

  Around me, through me, walks a generic gray Flaum. I step to the side and watch as it places its hand flat against the screen. There’s a green flash and the ramp descends. Only, we tried that and it didn’t work.

  So the Cache starts again. Another Flaum, this one black, comes up to the control panel. This time, instead of placing its palm, the Flaum pulls out a miner from beneath its fur, sticks it against the panel. With its left hand, the Flaum turns the miner’s settings to a low burn, then holds the trigger. Blue light splashes the front of the panel until the screen crackles, there’s a pop and an acrid sting in my nose, but the shuttle’s ramp descends.

  Got it.

  I shake my head, withdraw from the Cache, and blink my way into consciousness.

  To see Viera, miner raised, aiming towards a growing group of monsters making their way into the docking bay, their mouths open in constant screams.

  These things were frightening enough in the tubes, held back by restraints and glass barriers. Now, lurching in the open, one even crawling on three long arms, the ‘humans’ hit me with a combo of revulsion and fear that has me taking a step back, then another, until I run into the strut and remember what I’m supposed to be doing.

  “I need your miner, Viera!” I call.

  The Lunare hasn’t fired a shot yet, and I think it’s because the humans aren’t coming towards us so much as T’Oli’s shuttle. Which still has its ramp down.

  “What?” Viera says without turning to me. “Why?”

  “Because we need a way in!”

  Now Viera gives me a questioning look, wondering, I bet, if I’m going to just shoot a hole in the bottom of the shuttle, but apparently my outstretched hand and pleading look work enough magic to get her to toss me the weapon. By some miracle of coordination, I catch the miner in both hands, turn and, twisting the power dial, jam its nose against the panel.

  “T’Oli, you need to raise that ramp!” Viera’s yelling as I pull the miner’s trigger.

  The weapon judders in my grip as its gasses ionize to their lowest temperature, as they spit electrical fire against the panel.

  “Raise it, T’Oli!” Viera calls again.

  Come on, come on. We don’t have time for this. I risk a look to the left, see a half-dozen humans nearing T’Oli’s ramp. See another three heading our way, one, leading the bunch, sporting a head with at least five ears. It would be funny if not for the mindless panic on their faces, the rattling, hoarse screeches coming from their throats.

  The panel crackles, my nose gets the smell, and there’s a ping from inside the shuttle. Bright and clean, followed by a hiss as the ramp comes down.

  Ignos, the Sevora that took up residence inside my head, did a lot of evil things, but I still owe the creature my life several times over for the Cache alone.

  “Let’s go!” I flip the miner back to Viera and we both head to where the ramp’s landing, when we hear a roar that cuts through all the other noise.

  It’s impossible not to look at what follows, at the terrible destruction of an Oratus unleashed. Vee, with T’Oli nowhere in sight, tears out of their shuttle and into the pack of grasping humans. His four claws rip and tear, his mouth bites and shreds, and the humans fall away before him. Vee, for his part, seems to delight in the melee, moving from one target to the next in a whirling, slashing tornado.

  “Wow,” Viera says, and I can only agree. “Sax and Bas always looked deadly, but I never saw them fight. Not really.”

  I’d seen Sax duel with an Amigga, but that was only one target, and the Oratus had been badly injured by then. Vee is old, Vee has scars, but Vee has had a long time to wait for this chance.

  Still, no matter how many the Oratus cuts down, more of the humans pour out of the hallway. After Vee slices through the initial wave, more press on him, grabbing at his claws, falling against his scales or picking up pieces of junk to wield as clubs.

  “He’s going to get overwhelmed,” Viera says, starting forward to help him.

  She doesn’t make it two steps before T’Oli’s shuttle spools to life, a pyrotechnic whine filling the cavern.

  I clamber up out boarding ramp as soon as it hits the ground. T’Oli’s lifting its shuttle, gliding it over towards Vee, though I don’t know what the Ooblot plans to do with it. At least until T’Oli rotates the craft, bringing the right cross-wing over some of the humans, where the jets bursting from those holes in the wing commence some instant cooking.

  I don’t bother watching that. Viera doesn’t either. She’s coming up the ramp with me into what is, thankfully, a familiar setting. A fat area with netting and handholds for flight, with the cockpit visible to the right.

  “I’ll figure out the door, you learn how to fly,” Viera says to me.

  “On it.” I head to the forest of levers, terminals, and buttons that is the cockpit.

  I’m about to look at the Cache again when something burbles, crackles and
bursts through the speakers next to me.

  “See you’ve chosen your own ride!” T’Oli’s voice comes through after a moment. “How’s it look over there? Our’s is a bit beat up. Nothing like the Beast.”

  There’s a big green bar beneath the speaker grille in the center of the cockpit’s set of terminals, so I try a hunch, press it, and speak, “T’Oli! How do you fly one of these things?”

  “You’ll want to cycle the power supply first - hold on a second.” the speaker goes dead and I stare around, looking for something that looks like a power supply, not that I know what that is. “Sorry, had to roast a couple aggressive-looking types. These are great ships for that, you know. Most—”

  “T’Oli!”

  “Ah, sorry. You’re wanting to pull the big lever on the right. That’ll release the emergency tank. Do you know that’s the only hard fuel on these things?”

  I don’t know what T’Oli means by ‘hard fuel’, but I see the lever. There’s no chairs, no objects to dodge in these cockpits other than the flying net hanging up above, so when the lever doesn’t move, I’m able to stand in front of it, brace my legs, and press down on the bright red stick.

  There’s a shunting noise somewhere beneath me, and a brief whoosh of rushing liquid.

  “What’d you just do?” Viera shouts from back near the ramp.

  “No idea!” I reply. “You get the ramp up yet?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it!”

  One of the terminals blinks to life as the bright red lever slowly rises back up to its set position. Thanking Ignos that the galaxy uses the same language we do, I read what it says. Which isn’t much:

  BATTERY PRIMER READY

  START?

  So I hit the big green triangle beneath the word, and the shuttle gets to work. I reach towards the communication panel, hit the button.

  “T’Oli, I think I’ve got the primer going. What’re you doing?”

  “Seems like these things won’t stop coming, so I’m picking up Vee. Then we’re going to have to figure out a way to get above ground. These shuttles aren’t meant, you know—”