She tries to talk. Choking instead. Glowing eyes on mine.
“I’m s-sorry,” I whisper. “I’m s-so sorry, Cat.”
And I crawl.
Across the soaking deck. A sluice of red behind. Dragging myself with broken fingernails, holding my pieces together with bloody hands.
Ignoring the pain, the hurt, I crawl.
Like the life of every sentient being in the galaxy depends on it.
I crawl.
I reach the terminal. Scrabbling with red, sticky hands. Black flowers bloom in front of my eye, every breath bubbles in my lungs. But finally, I manage to stab the controls, release the blast doors. I collapse onto my back, gasping, coughing blood, as tech teams and comp crews and security goons all bust into the core room, through the swirling steam, the rising red.
But not too late.
Not too late.
… You can fix this, Tyler …
The laser sights of a dozen disruptor rifles light up my chest.
I slump back against the terminal, light fading in my eye.
“Checkmate,” I whisper.
31
AURIKAL
Aurora
I’m standing in the Echo, the place I lived for half a year, the place I trained to become the Trigger I am.
But it’s nothing like I remember.
To my right, rolling fields of flowers once led to a crystal city on the horizon. To my left, a valley used to dip toward the woods. Before me, a lively river once splashed and chattered its way beneath a sky of perfect blue.
But it’s all broken now. Fractured just like the Neridaa. Cracks run across the gray heavens like the fissures in the Weapon’s skin. The flowers are smashed like glass, the river splintered like ice, the crystal spires on the horizon lopsided and tumbled. Even the air tastes … wrong. And as my heart sinks and I look around the desolation, a familiar figure is floating through the shattered fields of flowers toward me.
Esh is human-shaped but far from human, a creature of light and crystal, rainbows refracting within it, right eye white and glowing, just as mine must be. It looks different now too; thin cracks run through its surface, light leaking from within. But relief rushes through me at the sight of my old teacher, and in an instant I’m running through the broken flowers to meet it.
“Esh! Holy cake, I’m so glad to see you, we—”
G-g-greetings. It cuts me off, tone as musical as ever, gently courteous. Welcome to t-the Echo. I am t-the Eshvaren.
“Yeah, I know,” I tell it. “Esh, what happened here, w—”
You do not meet the p-parameters for training. State your business.
“I know, I don’t need to train, I …”
I trail off as realization hits me, and my heart drops. I remember this isn’t really a person I’m talking to—this is only a projection. An amalgam of the memories and wisdom of the entire Eshvaren race. And just like they told me it would, after I left last time, the amalgam reset. Esh doesn’t remember me, any more than it remembered Caersan the first time I showed up.
Mothercustard.
State your b-business, Esh repeats simply.
“Okay, I’m a Trigger. You trained me. I’m here with another Trigger, who’s an utter sociopath; and why you decided to give all godlike power to a complete …” I shake my head, pushing on. “Anyway, it’s a long story. Point is, the Weapon is damaged and we need to repair it—fast.”
We … Esh’s image flickers, like a faulty viewscreen. We f-feel it. We . . . It looks up to the gray, cracked sky, down to the cracks running through its hands. What … h-have you done?
A flash of pain cuts through my head, and in my mind’s eye, I see a fragment of the battle raging outside. Time moves slow outside the Echo, like ice cream melting on a hot day. But I see more Ra’haam vessels spilling into the cavern, the few remaining ships we have burning in slow motion.
Inside the Neridaa, I feel Tyler—a spark of him, a faint but beautiful molten-gold flame that I never noticed before now. Beside him I feel Lae, a reflection of those same colors. And between them I feel Kal, gold and violet in that smothering cold.
I feel his rage.
I feel his fear.
I know I don’t have long.
“We got thrown through time,” I tell Esh. “Two Triggers together … I don’t know. But the Ra’haam is here! The whole Milky Way is ending! We need to fix the Weapon now—can you help?”
Esh studies me for a long moment.
The galaxy holds its breath.
N-no, it says.
Kal
The blades are lead in my hands, my body slick with sweat inside my armor. I stumble in the blood, thick and sticky upon the crystalline floor.
“… Kaliis …”
I do not listen to its voice, the pistol in my hand flaring.
“… We know you love her, Kaliis. We love her, too… .”
Around me, the Vindicator’s crew fights with all the fury of those with nothing to lose. I feel the Enemy Within awakening—the part of me shaped by the man in that throne room, who delights in war and carnage. I have fought against it for as long as I can remember, this thing he tried to twist me into. But as much as I hate him, I am glad he is within me now.
… There is only one way you may save her. One way she might live, eternal, your love evergreen in the light of a warmth all-consuming …
Do not listen to its voice. Listen to his.
Mercy is for the weak.
Peace is for the coward.
Tears are for the conquered.
More are coming. Dozens. Hundreds. I look to Tyler, and his face is grim. Lae meets my eyes, and I can see the death that stalks us.
But we cannot allow them to get to Aurora.
“Hurry, be’shmai,” I whisper.
Aurora
“No?” I ask, my voice rising. “What do you mean, no? You built the thing! You should know how to fix it!”
The image flickers again, like a transmission losing power. I can feel the ground shake beneath my feet. Outside, the Ra’haam drips closer, like molasses, thick and sickly sweet. Toward Kal, Tyler, the others …
“Esh!” I shout.
The Echo. The Weapon itself. This p-personification of us … all are linked. As it is damaged, so t-too are we. We cannot h-help you.
Another tremor passes through the ground. Lightning cracks the shattered sky above. I can feel them out there, bleeding in slow motion, one by one falling under those impossible numbers. I’m not sure what Esh even means, but every second we spend speaking, my defenders are dying.
I look around the Echo, to Esh itself. Mind racing.
“If this place and the Weapon are linked …”
I reach toward the closest object, lying in a hundred rose-colored pieces on the grass. I can feel the remnants of the energies in this place. See the way it used to be in my mind’s eye, all those months I spent in here with Kal, clear as glass. And as my eye begins to glow, I pull the pieces together, reforming it in the palm of my hand.
A single, perfect flower.
In answer, outside beyond the Echo, I feel a tiny crack in the Weapon’s hull stitch itself closed.
Yes, Esh nods. You s-see.
I close my eyes, slow my breathing, slow my mind, taking in my surroundings—real and virtual—and attuning myself to both. I can still sense the others beyond—quick brushes of Kal’s familiar mind, of Tyler’s, even, and of Lae’s. I can taste their fear and courage, their grief as their friends fall, their fury at the thing taking them away. And above and around it all, I can feel the creeping unnaturalness of the Ra’haam.