Authors: Adam Christopher
“The Fleet has bargained for its survival,” said Izanami. “The Spider war goes poorly and soon all of Fleetspace will be consumed by the machine gestalt. But now the Fleet has given me my freedom. You shall lead the Funayurei, and together we will all burn in the darkness.”
Carter swore. Ida shook his head. “You really think the Fleet knew what they were dealing with? They thought they could get the genie back in the bottle.” He looked at the two prisoners on the floor in front of DeJohn. “But someone knew that was impossible. The commandant. He knew.”
“He thought he could stop me,” said Izanami. She was amused, patient. Confident. Ida felt ill. “He was sent here to oversee the bargain—the very reason this station was built. But he realized what his Fleet Admiral had not, and he fought. I took him first, but he had anticipated this. He prepared instructions for the one he knew would replace him, one who was not a psi-marine but who could perhaps learn from the messages written in a book. The marshal learned well, learned how to resist, to fight. So I destroyed the book and then I took him.”
“So,” said Zia, “you’re gonna eat your way through the whole universe, top to bottom. And then what?”
“I am looking for my husband,” said Izanami. “He will suffer for his betrayal.” Izanami looked past the group, as though her husband had just walked into the hangar. “He trapped me behind the star, behind the gateway. I shall have revenge on life itself for this!”
In the
Bloom County
’s cabin, yellow lights flashed again, and Serra spoke.
“No,” she said. She stepped forward and DeJohn jerked, but he seemed unable to move. He shuddered on the spot, his eyes unfocused, a quiet moan escaping his throat.
Izanami’s smile vanished, and she appeared on the hangar floor. In one swift movement she drew the sword from her back and swung it forward. The tip of blade spit electric blue in the dim light and stopped a hair from Serra’s throat.
The lights inside the
Bloom County
flickered, brighter this time.
“No farther!”
Izanami had both hands wrapped tight around the sword’s handle. Serra didn’t move, but she smiled. The blue flame in Izanami’s eyes flared brightly.
“You are not free yet,” said Serra. “The gateway can still be closed.”
The commandant pulled himself awkwardly to his feet, King close behind. Izanami swept the sword in an arc toward the two men.
Serra stepped forward. Carter went to follow, but Ida grabbed his arm and pulled him back. In the dark, the
Bloom County
’s windows were filled with flickering yellow light as the machine awoke.
“You’ve miscalculated,” Serra said. “You’ve put two psi-marines and a
Spider
in the same room.”
Serra turned to the commandant, then to the marshal. They all took a step forward.
Izanami swept the sword back and forth, stepping backwards as the trio moved toward her. Her face was a twisted visage of hate, but there was something else. Hesitation.
Fear.
A sound filled the hangar: a roaring, mechanical and deep; pink noise and square waves and saw waves, in a pattern, repeating. The machine code of the Spiders.
The two psi-marines and the marshal stepped forward and Izanami stepped backwards, toward the
Bloom County
. Her sword was still raised but she seemed reluctant, unable, to act. Around the edges of the hangar the shadows seemed to thin, the purple light growing brighter.
Zia grabbed Ida’s arm. “What are they doing?”
Serra answered, keeping her eyes fixed on the enemy. “She’s not here, not fully. Izanami is still in subspace. The three of us can interfere with her projection into our universe, for a short time.”
Ida glanced at the
Bloom County
. The mining legs were moving now, tapping against the hangar floor like an agitated insect, making the whole ship rock gently.
“And then what?”
“And then—”
Izanami screamed and lunged forward. Serra ducked to one side as the sword flashed past her, but Elbridge was not as fast. Izanami thrust her weapon through the commandant’s chest. He staggered back and looked down at her hand pressing the hilt of the sword into his chest, as if surprised that the blade was somehow real enough to be used as a weapon. Then Izanami pulled the sword free and, even as Ida, Zia, and Carter darted forward to help, spun on her heel and sliced diagonally through King from shoulder to waist. The two men toppled over; Serra cried out and dropped to her knees, her hands pressed against the side of her head as the machine roar that filled the hangar increased in volume, the mining legs of the
Bloom County
adding to the metallic cacophony.
Something grabbed Ida and nearly lifted him off his feet as his forward momentum was checked. He swung around, one arm held fast by DeJohn. Carter lunged forward and grabbed Serra, the pair falling backwards as he pulled. Zia dodged DeJohn’s other roving hand and reached for Carter, helping him drag Serra away from Izanami.
Ida dipped his head as DeJohn swung awkwardly with his other arm, like a puppet operated by a blind master. DeJohn’s haymaker sailed cleanly over Ida’s head as Ida threw a punch into the marine’s stomach. The attack did nothing, but DeJohn overbalanced, his grip on Ida’s arm loose. Ida pulled free and scrambled out of the way as the marine fell like a tree to the floor and didn’t move again.
Ida spun around, fists clenched for a fight, and found himself face-to-face with Izanami.
She smiled and raised the sword above her head. Ida was lit in the burning blue of her eyes as the blade came down.
Someone screamed his name.
46
There was a flash
of white light, and the roaring static snapped like a gunshot. Ida toppled backwards as something silver and cold appeared directly in front of him, pushing him back.
Ludmila.
She collapsed onto one knee, her arms raised, Izanami’s blade gripped in her gauntlets, the space radio set she had been holding skittering across the hangar floor. Izanami screamed and Ludmila pushed forward against the blade, pushing to her feet.
“Now!” she said, her voice echoing from the space radio a dozen meters away. “It must be now!”
Serra moaned in pain in Carter’s arms, and as Ida ran toward them, the Spider legs of the
Bloom County
thumped once, twice on the floor, the vibration nearly enough to send him tumbling again. Serra struggled to rise but then arched her back, her face distorted in pain.
“It’s too much for her!” Carter yelled into Ida’s ear. “Without the other two, she’s on her own!”
Ida looked over his shoulder. Ludmila and Izanami were locked together. Around the hangar, the shadows spun faster and faster. Time was running out.
“Ida,” said Serra. Her hands grabbed at his legs, and he quickly dropped to one knee.
“The … Spider,” she said, hand flailing toward Zia’s ship. “Spiders consume stellar cores. Fly it … fly it into Shadow, it’ll collapse the gateway. Trap her.”
She pulled again at Ida, but he ignored her. Instead, he looked up at Zia. She shook her head. “You ain’t flying that thing into a star, peaches.”
Serra jerked her head and hissed in pain. “No,” she said. “The Spider will fly it. It just … you just need to release it … release it and it can be guided in.”
Ida and Zia looked at each other. Zia was shaking her head.
Ida frowned. “Release it?”
Zia pointed at the ship. “There’s a quantum dampener around the Spider’s CPU, to stop its psi-fi field interfering with the ship’s systems. Fleet standard unit. That must be what she means.”
Serra moaned again.
Ida turned. The space radio. It lay on the floor just a few meters away. He started toward it when Zia grabbed him. He turned and pointed at the
Magenta
behind them. “Warm up the shuttle,” Ida said. “Get them out of here.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ida ducked forward and grabbed the radio set. The light on the front was bright blue, like the flames that haloed Ludmila and Izanami behind them. He turned and saw Izanami’s blade inch closer to Ludmila’s golden visor.
“Take this,” he said, passing her the radio. “Serra can guide the Spider in from the shuttle.”
Zia clutched the radio to her chest and was about to speak when Ida waved her off.
“Go! I’ll release the dampener.
Go!
”
She nodded finally and ran back to Carter and Serra. Ida watched as Zia and Carter lifted Serra between them and carried her toward the shuttle.
Ida stood and took a breath. He was the best captain in the Fleet. He wasn’t known for taking risks, but he was known for thinking outside the box. He’d saved Tau Retore, earned the Fleet Medal. And then the Fleet had erased him from history, handing him over to an entity from another dimension in exchange for victory over the Spiders.
It was time to set the record straight.
The hangar shook. Ida ran toward the
Bloom County
. As he did, Izanami pushed Ludmila to her knees, but Ludmila twisted her hands sideways and the demon’s sword dropped to the floor. Ludmila fell sideways with it and Izanami turned, floating a meter from the hangar floor, her outline blazing, blue and awful.
Ida’s foot hit the edge of the
Bloom County
’s ramp and he tripped, his robot knee hitting the decking, jarring his whole body. Ida yelled out, seeing his own shadow cast in front of him by the blue light, fierce and terrible behind him. He turned, and Izanami floated toward him quickly.
Behind her, Ludmila was already on her feet. She picked the sword up from where it lay. Ida blinked and she was closer, then closer again—one moment far away, the next close enough to touch, close enough to see one eye, see her face, through her smashed visor.
Close enough to push the sword through Izanami. Ludmila moved forward again, walking this time, until Ida imagined the hilt of the sword was hard again the demon’s back.
Izanami reached for Ida and paused, the blade of the sword protruding cleanly through her torso, the tip stopping just short of Ida’s face. There was no blood, just a faint blue light leaking from her. Izanami smiled and looked Ida in the eye, and for a moment he saw the medic he’d met an eon ago, the only friendly face in a hostile world. Then her expression darkened, and she snarled as cracks appeared across her face, and then across her body. She began to flake away, like ash from a fire. The cracks widened, a burning blue light shining through the channels, the same as the light in her eyes, the same as the light of the space radio.
Ludmila yelled and pulled the sword out, and Izanami shattered and was gone. Ludmila fell to her knees, the sword bouncing across her legs and to the floor before it too broke into a thousand shards, the pieces salting the floor before vanishing in an instant. The roar of subspace was louder than ever, meshed with the hard staccato of the Spider code. Around the edges of the hangar, the Funayurei swarmed in anger at the defeat of their queen, and under Ida’s back, the
Bloom County
’s ramp bounced as the mining legs twitched and twitched again.
Ida dragged himself to where Ludmila knelt. He cradled her cracked helmet in his hands, ignoring the white pain of cold that seared his palms. He watched his reflection in the part of the golden visor that was intact, and met her eye through the part that was broken. He fumbled for the helmet’s catch, his fingers on fire. Finally, the helmet twisted and the catch came free.
“Hello, Ida,” she said.
Her helmet clattered to the floor, and Ludmila—the first woman in space, the cosmonaut lost one thousand years ago, the pioneer who had burned in the atmosphere over Siberia in her capsule, the hero erased from all history and memory—smiled at Ida.
Her smile was the most beautiful thing in the world. He wanted to touch her skin but he was afraid that she would break, that she would tear like tissue paper. Her hair was short and spiky. Her eyes were blue and her teeth were white, and Ida almost passed out.
He felt a touch on his face, slight pinpricks of contact that burned like fire. He opened his eyes and found she had managed to take her gloves off, her long, delicate fingers on his cheeks, their icy touch like a flaming brand. Her face drew close, and he could feel no breath, smell no scent. She smiled and kissed him lightly. It was like kissing the terminal of a battery, and afterwards his lips were dry and numb.
Ludmila. Dead and alive at the same time, a soul lost at sea, like the others.
“Are you really here?” he asked, and he felt foolish for doing so.
Ludmila nodded. The hangar shook as the
Bloom County
thumped the floor, and she stood, pulling Ida up with her, his arm aching where she held him. Over her shoulder, Ida could see the lights of the
Magenta
flick on, piercing the purple haze of the hangar with brilliant sharp white.
“The Spider,” he said. “We need to deactivate the dampener, then get back to the shuttle. We—”
“I cannot come with you,” Ludmila said. “I don’t belong here.”
“What? But you’re real, aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “Someone needs to direct the Spider toward the gateway while Serra blocks Izanami. Her projection may be lost, but that won’t stop her trying to pull herself across the bridge.”
“But the Spider can fly this ship, can’t it? Serra said—”
Ludmila shook her head. “The Spider is not awake, not truly,” she said. “I will try to show it the way.”
“You sure
you
can pilot it?”
Ludmila hesitated.
“I’ll fly it,” said Ida. Ludmila gasped in surprise, but Ida just nodded. “We can’t take the chance. Go on.” He gestured up the ramp just as the hangar shook again. “Go!”
Ludmila ran up into the
Bloom County
. Ida turned. On the other side of the hangar, Zia appeared on the
Magenta
’s ramp, waving furiously at him.
No. There was too much at stake. Izanami had to be stopped.
Ida stepped up onto the rising ramp of the
Bloom County
. He turned in time to see Zia yell something and move away from the shuttle before a thick hand caught her arm and pulled her back inside. She fought, but the effort was token.