The flesh underneath was dark and striated, with visible, shifting muscles that put Gyre in mind of a plaguespawn. But this was no haphazard monster built from scavenged corpses. It looked designed, and it moved with the smooth purpose of a well-made machine.
Standing, it was a head taller than even Harrow, with subtly inhuman proportions. Its articulated stone armor must have weighed half a ton, but it loped forward with strength. Kit was already halfway to the doorway, but Gyre, Ibb, and Yora were on the other side of the room.
Harrow, directly in the creature’s path, drew his axe and stood his ground. He shouted and swung a two-handed blow as it charged, aiming for the base of its neck. The thing threw up one arm to block, blade rebounding from stone with a clang. Its other arm swept forward, slamming into Harrow’s chest, and Gyre heard the crunch of breaking bone as Harrow went tumbling.
“Fuck me,” Ibb swore. His blaster was in hand, and he fired as the creature started to turn. The white-hot bolt of energy crackled across the room, but several inches from the thing’s armored skin it splashed, rippling outward like a droplet of water hitting a window. Gyre saw a blue translucent field shimmer around the creature for a moment, like a second skin, before it faded to leave the stone-armored thing unharmed.
“Running sounds good,” Gyre yelled.
They ran. Gyre vaulted the tables, putting them between himself and the monster, and Yora stayed close behind him. Ibb took a more circuitous route, still firing, but every blaster bolt simply splashed into nonexistence before touching the thing’s armor. The creature came at them, a single blow flattening the metal tables like tissue paper. Gyre tried to slip past, but it cut between him and the door, and he barely jumped back from the sweep of a boulder-like fist. Ibb’s blaster gave the high-pitched whine of a dead sunsplinter, and he swore again.
“Harrow!” Yora shouted.
The big warrior was back on his feet, his lips flecked with blood but axe still in hand. He charged the creature from behind, sweeping the big crescent-shaped blade down at the back of its leg. It was a well-judged blow, slipping between two armor plates and biting into the dark flesh between. The rock-thing twitched but didn’t make a sound. Before it could swing around to deal with Harrow, Yora leveled her spear and jabbed for its shoulder. The unmetal blade left a notch in the stone but failed to penetrate, and she had to dance back out of range.
“Move!” Yora said, pushing Gyre past her. “Harrow, get away!”
With an axe in its leg, the creature was a bit less mobile. Gyre threw himself past it, barely outrunning a hammering blow that sent bits of table flying. At the same time, Ibb circled in the other direction, breaking into a run for the doorway. The rock-thing turned to follow, but as it tried to take a step it found Harrow still holding on to the axe buried in its flesh.
Gyre couldn’t tell if Harrow meant to hold the creature in place, or if he was only too stubborn to abandon his weapon, but either way the result was the same. One huge, rocky hand slammed down onto the warrior’s head, smashing it open like a melon against the monster’s armored flank. The other ripped the axe free and tossed it away.
“Harrow!” Yora leveled her spear, ready to charge the thing. Gyre hastily grabbed her by one arm, and Ibb by the other. Between them they dragged their leader out the door.
“He’s dead!” Gyre shouted. “Get out!”
“Fucking plaguefire!” Yora snarled, but she turned to run.
He’d hoped the stone thing might be restrained by the doorway, but the steel proved to be no more of an obstacle than flesh and blood. It burst through in a shower of rock chips and metal shards, coming to a halt in the flat white corridor. Though no eyes were visible, Gyre was certain it was watching them as they ran. The deep voice boomed again, and then the thing was running, slowly at first but picking up speed with every step, like a boulder rolling downhill.
Yora was just ahead of Gyre, and Ibb farther on. Gyre looked up to try to find Kit, which proved to be a serious mistake. His foot caught on a loose piece of debris, and he went down in a tangle. Yora heard the sound and skidded to a halt, then started back toward him, reaching out a hand. The monster’s thumping stride accelerated as it closed.
“Yora, don’t!” Ibb shouted from up ahead. “Go!”
Some part of Gyre’s mind, calmly judging distances and speeds, told him he was right, that neither of them would make it. Yora grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet, the rock-thing only paces behind. The ground shook as he got his legs under him and started to run, the creature now moving faster than a galloping warbird, no chance—
A blaster cracked, the white-hot bolt ripping past Gyre’s shoulder. Kit stood square in the corridor, weapon held cool and steady in both hands. Gyre waited for the blue field to intercept the shot, as it had with Ibb’s, but the bolt was poorly aimed and slammed into the ceiling. It detonated with a roar, and chunks of rock cascaded downward.
Not poorly aimed at all. The creature staggered under the rain of stone, its momentum checked.
“Fucking run!” Kit shouted. She fired again, her aim tracking along the ceiling, bringing the ancient tunnel down on the thing’s head. Gyre put his head down and ran, Yora pounding along at his side. As they passed Kit, she holstered the blaster and joined them, skidding around the corner at the T-junction.
“Come on, come on!” Ibb shouted, already outside the hidden door. He had one hand on the code-key.
Gyre gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eye, and ran with everything he had. The three of them passed through the doorway as the rock-creature, dust-covered but intact, made it to the corner. As soon as they were clear, Ibb ripped the code-key from the door, which obligingly slid quietly shut and sealed with a final-sounding hiss. A moment later, the thump of footsteps from the other side came to an abrupt halt, and there was silence, aside from their labored breathing and the occasional crash of falling rock.
Kit let out a whoop of triumph, brandishing her prize. Ibb fixed her with a poisonous glare. He’d lost his hat, and without it he seemed smaller. Yora had tossed her spear aside, fighting for breath, face dark with anger. Kit glanced between them, caught Gyre’s eye, and shrugged.
*
Sitting on the table in their meeting room, the black rod that Kit called the destabilizer didn’t seem like it was worth the effort. Sarah examined the thing with a practiced eye, running her hands over the random patterns of silver wire that shimmered beneath its surface. Nevin, the thief, was nervously sketching on a long roll of thin paper. Yora herself sat several paces back from the table, jaw tight.
Ibb, for his part, had replaced his hat and regained some of his aplomb. He sat, most of his face hidden, at the end of the table that was farthest from Kit. The look he threw Gyre when he came in was impossible to read.
Kit swiveled on her own chair, as though the effort of holding still was too much for her. Her eyes were on the thing they’d retrieved with such difficulty.
“Well?” Yora said quietly as Gyre entered. “What do you think?”
“Frankly,” Sarah said, “your guess is as good as mine. I’ve certainly never seen anything like it.”
Yora looked up at Kit, her eyes hard. “You say this thing will destroy a stasis web?”
Kit nodded eagerly. “It takes all of a minute. Maybe less.”