Turn Of The Wheel (continued)Someone at the far end of the hallway, closest to the junction where the skrimm would emerge from the upper levels, yelled something unintelligible and began to fire. Return fire from the skrimm hammered into the hallway, ricocheting off walls, whanging and exploding, showering everyone in rock dust and fragments. Dirt, smoke, and the oily clouds of expended chakan oil began to fill the tunnel. A figure loomed into sight at the far end of the corridor. Greshyn began firing. She did not have to worry that it might be a member of her squad. Anything more than a motra off the floor would be skrimm. Pulse fire accelerated. Balls of energy streaked down the tunnel, all headed for the same point. There was an enormous flash of light, blinding her for an instant, and then there was another huge hulking shadow, larger and closer than the last.
“Fire, fire, fire!” someone yelled. “Increase rate of fire!”
There were energy blasts everywhere, going in all directions. A scream and an explosion. A pulse weapon had been hit and had blown up. Part of the roof caved in. Another flash of light, another skrimm destroyed, bringing the tally to two. Greshyn shifted to the left, trying to align her blasts with the position ahead of her, trying to concentrate the energy. Another scream. The first position at the head of the corridor was overrun. The skrimm advanced. Jek was still beside her, crying in terror but firing steadily despite that. He got up onto his knees, pulling at the trigger of his rifle as fast as his finger could move, even faster than Greshyn. She started to tell him to keep his head down. It was too late. His body slumped to the floor. There was nothing above the shoulders.
The entire tunnel shook. The far end of the corridor disappeared in a cloud of flame, dust, and smoke. A skrimm wallowed into view, much closer than they had been microts before. They had blasted through the wall halfway up the corridor from a parallel passageway. The front positions were now pinned between two masses of skrimm, cut off.
“Hit it!” Greshyn shouted, forgetting that her battle comms would carry her voice to the rest of the squad. There were only five positions between the skrimm and the hatch leading to the labs and the rest of the facility. Everyone concentrated their fire on the lead skrimm. It died in a flash of light and an explosion. Greshyn ducked, covering her eyes. When she looked again, a firing position and the two people behind it was gone, obliterated by the blast.
“Ssezzin!” Olpin yelled. “Ssezzin!”
Greshyn stared at where Ssezzin had been, temporarily unable to process that nothing remained of the defensive position or the two people kneeling behind it, and then numbly continued firing. There was nothing else she could do. Another skrimm appeared and then another. They were jammed four and five across, filling the tunnel from side to side. There were not enough rifles left to kill them.
“Olpin, fall back!” Greshyn called. “Fall back!”
Olpin bolted, headed for Greshyn’s position, and a skrimm charge caught her square in the back. She flew, tumbled, hit the floor, and suddenly there was nothing but a limp uniform and smoking armor lying against the wall. It looked as though someone had casually tossed a heap of rags into the corner.
“Olpin!” Greshyn cried out. The two syllable scream tore at her throat, lungs, and heart. She put every bit of her anguish into the drawn out howl, crying out not just for Olpin, but Ssezzin and everything else they had lost over the last several cycles.
It was over. She was still firing, as were the other survivors around her, but as far as she was concerned, her life was over. Ssezzin and Olpin were gone, lost in the space of a few microts. She gathered her feet under her, preparing to charge the skrimm head on, intending to join her two friends in death. It would be a joy, a mercy, a delight.
She jumped to her feet, took a step forward, and was knocked onto her back by an explosion. The explosions continued. Not explosions, she realized in a dazed fashion after several microts. Energy bursts. Energy releases accompanied by blinding flashes of light. Perhaps reinforcements had arrived. The demented flibisks were back inside her chest. Hope fluttered into life. Scorpius had managed to find reinforcements.
It took three tries before she could get her stunned body to roll over onto her stomach. She squirmed forward, resuming her position behind her mound of debris, and then wriggled upward until she could peer over the top. The skrimm were dying, just as she had guessed. She watched, still dazed and more than a little confused, as a streak of colored light swooped out of the ceiling of the tunnel and streaked into the middle of the nearest skrimm. She was not sure what happened next. It looked as though the skrimm burst … or exploded … or something. All along the tunnel the same thing was happening. The skrimm were being attacked and were dying, some in an intense flash of light, some in magnificent explosions. Sections of ceiling fell in. She watched with dismay as an entire segment came down, burying Olpin. Craters appeared in the floor. A section of wall crumbled, threatening to bring down everything above it. The corridor shook and bounced in response to the destruction. Greshyn clamped her forearms over her ears, hunkered down behind her protective pile of dirt, and spent the time wondering if the entire level was going to collapse.
After twenty microts of bedlam, the hallway suddenly went quiet. Greshyn lowered her arms and sat up, not sure what to expect.
“Cease fire. Do not fire. I repeat, do not fire,” Scorpius’ voice said over the battle comms. “All units acknowledge my orders. All units, secure your weapons.”
Greshyn keyed her comms. “Acknowledged. Secure weapons. Do not fire.” She engaged the safety on her weapon, just to be sure it could not go off, and then got to her feet, shaking and confused. A pitifully small number of other figures were doing the same. They walked toward her, some stumbling, some stopping to kneel beside fallen comrades. Greshyn went to where Olpin lay. Most of her was buried under chunks of ceiling. Only her head and arm were visible. Greshyn knelt down and took Olpin’s hand in hers. It was still warm. She waited, half expecting her friend to open her eyes, grin up at her, and say, “Would you get this frelling mess off of me? I need to piss,” as she had on one other occasion.
Olpin did not open her eyes. She remained still. There was no pulse in her wrist. Greshyn rubbed the heel of one grimy hand across her eyes, scrubbing hard at the sting of tears. There was a distant boom, the floor shook, and a cloud of dust billowed into the corridor at the far end. She wondered if more skrimm were advancing, and discovered that she did not care.
Greshyn’s battle comms crackled for a moment. “We had to blast our way through a roof fall,” said a voice that was not Scorpius’. “Coming in now. Nobody shoot. We’re the good guys.”
Footsteps echoed in the distance. Rubble clattered and squealed against the tunnel surface. Two figures strode slowly out of the dust and the gloom, sebaceans, one male and one female. A microt later, more people appeared. There were several luxans and a small number of nebari. Greshyn stood up in order to get a better look. The sebacean male led the way with the female to one side and a scant half step behind. They were both tall, well built, wore black leather pants and long overcoats, and carried the old style pulse pistols. They advanced along the corridor cautiously, checking to make sure there were no further threats, but without any overt sign of fear. They moved in perfect partnership, never bumping into each other, anticipating each others movements, aware of what the other was doing without looking.
A thought about them niggled at Greshyn, some piece of information from the past that refused to be captured. It tickled at the back of her mind, suggesting that if she had enough time to sit and think about it, to rummage through her memories, she would know who they were.
They came to a stop three motras from where Greshyn and the other survivors stood. The female turned to the small group trailing behind them. “Clear the entire complex to make sure they got all of the skrimm. If you find any, do not engage. Retreat and let us know. We’ll request another attack to take care of them. Understood?”
One of the luxans nodded. “No casualties,” he said.
“We don’t want to lose anyone,” she said. “We haven’t had any losses yet. Let’s keep it that way.”
“We’ll check for wounded,” one of the nebari said.
The group split up, disappearing into corridors and through the holes that the skrimm had blasted in the walls, spreading out to search for survivors of all types. Several of the nebari began working their way slowly up the hallway, checking for wounded. Everyone in the corridor with the exception of Greshyn had at least minor wounds and was escorted toward the surface of the planet. One hundred microts later, she found herself standing alone except for the two sebaceans.
“No injuries?” the male said to Greshyn.
“No.” She looked at where Olpin and Ssezzin lay and did not attempt to explain that she had been fatally injured this day. She had lost two-thirds of her self. It was impossible to go on living this way. The first tears threatened to break loose. The lump in her throat made it impossible to speak, which was good since if she tried to say something, she was sure she would start screaming.
The armored door behind her clanged, rattled as the catches were released, and swung open. Scorpius emerged and walked toward them. “This is unexpected.”
“Grasshopper,” said the male. He tilted his head to one side slightly, acknowledging Scorpius’ presence. “It’s been a while.”
Scorpius stepped to one side, to where he could get an unobstructed view of the entire hallway, and surveyed the scenery. It went on long enough that Greshyn had time to figure out that he was searching for something.
“Problem?” the stranger asked.
“There seem to be several people missing.”
“They’re taking care of your wounded.”
“That’s not what he means,” the female said quietly.
She had moved closer to the male. Their bodies were communicating again, sending and receiving small signals, in perfect partnership. Greshyn felt as though the grief would destroy her. It threatened to grind her down into insignificant shards that could no longer support life. She had shared that type of silent communion for so many cycles. It had bored on telepathy. Theirs had been three souls so perfectly in harmony that words were frequently not required. They had simply known what the others were thinking. Greshyn watched the silent conversation, could not read the messages being transmitted, and ached to have Olpin and Ssezzin by her sides.
The male’s gaze flicked to the woman at his side, and then back to Scorpius. Enlightenment struck; it showed in his eyes. “You’re not talking about reinforcements. You mean kids.”
Scorpius said, “I heard that you had several offspring.”
“I’ve been known to do some stupid things in my day,” the male said, “but I draw the line at bringing my children into a war zone. We left them somewhere safe.” He made a show of looking Scorpius over from head to foot. “Some place where you will never get close to them.”
A new entity had joined them in the now-quiet corridor. Hatred, thickly interlaced with anger, flooded outward from the male. For a moment, Greshyn was certain that Scorpius was about to die. In that instant, in the moment that it took for Greshyn to move one step back to get clear of any pulse weapon fire because she was convinced that Scorpius would be dead within the next microt or two, she realized who had come to their rescue.
It was the animosity that gave her the critical clue she required; it was the thick aura of dislike emanating from the male that triggered her memory. It did not matter that everything had happened before she was born. Once she had learned that her mother had been involved, Greshyn had searched for every bit of information available on the events that had taken place twenty cycles ago.
Greshyn’s head spun slightly. It felt like a mild case of oxygen deprivation -- just bad enough so it was difficult to think but not so severe that it would knock her off of her feet. If someone had told her that Djanca Bruz had intervened on her behalf, it would have been easier to believe. Everyone she had ever talked to about them was convinced that they were either dead or had left the Uncharted Territories and Peacekeeper-controlled space forever, disappearing into the vastness of deep space in pursuit of peace and a new beginning. The truth rattled her universe, shook both it and her body to their foundations.
She was standing within an arm’s length of John Crichton and Aeryn Sun.
“Why?” Greshyn blurted out before she had a chance to think. She looked at Scorpius, half expecting him to execute her on the spot for speaking without permission.
John Crichton’s eyes swiveled in her direction. “Why you? Why here?”
Greshyn watched Scorpius for a moment, waiting for some indication whether she should reply or not. When nothing happened, she said, “Yes. Why did you save us?”
“Excellent question,” Scorpius said.
“Coincidence,” Crichton said.
“It was the largest gathering of skrimm ships we could locate,” Aeryn Sun said.
“Demonstration of overwhelming force,” Scorpius said.
Crichton gave him a single nod. “Send the bastards home with their tails between their legs.”
“Why help in the first place?” Scorpius asked. Understanding crept into his expression, and he continued before anyone else could offer an explanation. “You did not do this for us. You did it because they were threatening either your family or your home.”
Crichton stared at Scorpius for several microts, a series of emotions flickering by so fast that Greshyn could not catch them all, let alone decipher what he was thinking. He eventually settled on a single expression that she thought might be a combination of loathing and fear. A moment later, he looked down at the pulse pistol in his hand, staring at it as though it held the answer to a problem.
“You cannot shoot him,” Sun said. “You agreed.”
Crichton turned toward Sun, putting his back to Greshyn. She had to strain to hear what he was saying. “He knows too much. You heard what he just said. He knows we’re somewhere within range of this planet.”
“It does not matter,” Sun said. “After today, he will no longer be a threat. You were the one who convinced me of that. Do not shoot him now. Not after we have gained so much.”
Crichton stood with his head hanging for several microts, then nodded twice and jammed his pulse pistol into its holster with a vigorous thrust. He spun back so he was facing both Scorpius and Greshyn. “You’ve heard of collateral damage? Call this collateral benefit. Saving your ass in the process was entirely unintentional.” He flicked a quick look toward Greshyn. “Not yours. We’re glad to help anyone except Nosferatu over there.”
Scorpius let out a long, hissing exhalation. “You have developed a weapon.”
From the first moment she figured out who they were, Greshyn’s attention had been focused entirely on Crichton and Sun, to the exclusion of proper combat readiness. An entire battalion of skrimm could have marched into the base and she would not have noticed. She knew that she was captivated by their presence and did not attempt to fight free of her fixation. She noted every small shift of their bodies, the way they moved, how their coats shifted and fluttered each time they moved, and how they seemed to function as a single entity. For a short time, she was in the presence of legends come to life, and she wanted to imprint every single microt of the experience permanently on her memory.
Scorpius’ short comment jolted her out of what felt like a hypnotic spell. His voice had changed. It had shifted from his usual casual disinterest to a tone that overflowed with avarice. The accent was the same, as were his choice of words and relaxed, almost languid delivery. What had changed, and had jerked Greshyn’s attention back to her commanding officer, was the underlying motivation in his voice. Scorpius either had not bothered or was unable to conceal that he wanted Crichton’s weapon, badly enough that she had no doubt he would stop at nothing to get it. If he had spoken to her in that tone of voice, she would have been tempted to draw her weapon and shoot him on the spot.
She began to understand Crichton’s loathing. Crichton, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the statement or the tone of voice. If anything, it had given him strength … or resolve. Greshyn went back to watching Crichton and Sun, intrigued by their reactions to Scorpius.
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “I got tired of watching you flail around, throwing other species into the path of the grimms --”
“Skrimm,” Sun said quietly, correcting him.
Crichton continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “-- in an attempt to stop them. I had just about had enough of your Machiavellian bulldren when you deliberately wheeled the grimm advance so it ran over the illonic colonies. Forty billion people, Scorpius. Their military couldn’t stand up to the grimms and you knew it ahead of time. They didn’t have a prayer. Forty billion illonics wiped out in a matter of solar days, all because of your quest for power.”
“My quest for peace, John.”
“Peace, my ass. It’s been twenty cycles and you still haven’t figured it out,” Crichton said. “You still don’t understand that entire civilizations are not chess pieces to be sacrificed like pawns. Two decades of rubbing shoulders with the eidelons hasn’t been enough to convince you that throwing forty billion living, breathing, innocent people to the wolves won’t buy you peace.”
“I was not attempting to buy peace with that maneuver, John. I was after time. All we need is --”
“All you need is a bigger, badder weapon in order to win the war,” Crichton said, raising his voice to a shout. “All you need is something worse than wormholes, something that can devour every single living grimm in a single gulp and leave the rest of the universe unscathed.” He took several steps to one side in order to kick a piece of rubble down the corridor. “You never learn, do you? This is who you are and it’s never going to change. I thought you had finally figured it out when you realized that wormhole weapons weren’t the answer, but you’re back to the same old crap as the first day I had the bad luck to cross paths with you.”
“The Peacekeepers are no longer the force they once were, John. We cannot win this war by weight of numbers. The skrimm do not conquer; they annihilate. We must have superior weapons.”
“No, you don’t need a superior weapon, you demented bastard. What you need are superior allies. What you needed was to make friends with the species that consider the grimms --”
“Skrimm,” Scorpius said, correcting him.
“-- a light tasty snack, to be snapped up like party mix.”
“High Command has approached every species with adequate forces to --”
Crichton waved him into silence. “Give it up. You don’t have the right circuits in your head to ever understand this. The language you speak” -- Crichton stepped close and hammered two rigid fingers into the center of Scorpius’ forehead, indicating that he was referring to the half-breed and no one else -- “doesn’t cover what I’m talking about. It’s not about adequate forces. It is about finding the right allies.”
“John, you must give us --”
“I must give you absolutely nothing. The war is already over. The skrimm are finished. The fleet above this planet has been destroyed. In one or two solar days, they will be falling back to their own territory all along the front. Any units that do not will be wiped out to the last skrimm. Listen carefully, Scorpius. The war is over. We are going to evacuate this research facility and then we are going to destroy it. No more big shiny weapons built just for you. No more fighting. No more killing billions.”
Greshyn risked another question. “How?”
Aeryn Sun turned to look at her. “How are we killing the skrimm?” she asked, verifying the question.
“Yes.”
“The skrimm are primarily energy.” Crichton continued to stare at Scorpius, speaking to him instead of Greshyn. She remained silent.
“Encased in an organic matrix that can be modified or repaired within microts,” Scorpius said.
“Which is why they’re impervious to most weapons and so difficult to kill,” Sun said.
“And the eidelons were no help because no one lives long enough to communicate with a skrimm. If you see a skrimm, a few microts later, you’re dead,” Crichton said.
“Yes, yes.” Scorpius grimaced, as if to say that the two were wasting his time. “We are well aware of these factors. The research being conducted at this facility was focused on developing a weapon that could destroy the organic elements and dissipate the energy all at once, otherwise the skrimm can re-coalesce its energy and build a new external matrix out of whatever matter is at hand. You state the obvious, John.”
Crichton gazed at him for several microts before turning to look at Sun. “He’s not as bright as everyone thinks.”
“Or else he does not know about the energy riders,” she said. “I had never heard of them until you mentioned them as a possibility.”
“You would think that a guy who gets around the universe as much as he does, sticking his nose into everyone’s business, would have come across them by now.”
She nodded, a faint hint of a smile appearing in the muscles around her eyes. “You would think so,” she said, agreeing. “Perhaps he needs to get out more.”
Crichton gave Sun a quick, glancing kiss, and then addressed Scorpius. “Grasshopper, brace yourself. You are about to meet a new species.” Crichton clapped Scorpius on the shoulder, and then moved past him, headed deeper into the complex. “Before you do, I have a confession to make.”
Scorpius turned, watching Crichton’s progress down the corridor, and waited.
Crichton paused beside Greshyn. “Go,” he said quietly, gesturing toward where the research labs were located. “You won’t want to stay for what comes next.”
She hesitated, looking toward Scorpius, her commander. Sun stepped around Crichton and took Greshyn by the elbow. “Come with me. You have no reason to trust us, but just this once you need to ignore your training and simply do what we say.”
Greshyn looked into the other woman’s eyes and found something there that she had difficulty identifying. It took several microts to recognize that it was compassion. She would have identified it more quickly if it had been Olpin or Ssezzin standing next to her, urging her to simply accept their direction without an explanation. They had loved her. Coming from a complete stranger, it was impossible to comprehend. She did not understand why Aeryn Sun cared about her.
Greshyn stalled for time. She knew she could solve the puzzle if she were given enough time. Clearly there was a piece that she had overlooked. “My friends,” she said, gesturing toward where the bodies were half-hidden under a mound of rubble. The delaying tactic did not work out as she had planned. Grief returned in a rush. She was swamped under a surge of memories, of loving moments that she would never experience again, of two lives wiped out prematurely, of fate turning their lives inside out just when they thought they had the future safely in their grasps. She could not leave them. Not yet. She began to cry.
“What is about to happen here will not damage them,” Sun said. She did not seem to notice Greshyn’s tears. “They are at peace. Come with me now. We will help you retrieve them later. There will be plenty of time for that.” She took Greshyn’s pulse rifle away from her, and gave her another gentle nudge, encouraging her to turn away.
Greshyn allowed herself to be guided and fell in beside Sun, unsettled by her illogical reaction to the reassurances but somehow certain that this was the right thing to do. Aeryn Sun was a former Peacekeeper soldier, she reasoned. She had been born on a command carrier, had received the same upbringing and training that Greshyn had received, had become a pilot, had been in combat. She understood what it meant to lose comrades in battle. It was that common experience that she was responding to, not compassion. That made more sense.
She looked back as Crichton began to speak to Scorpius again.
“I had to make some sacrifices in order to form the allegiances we needed to stop the grimms,” he said.
“Skrimm,” Scorpius said automatically, then added, “Officer Sun’s comments. You had to guarantee not to take my life.”
“Correct.”
Scorpius gave Crichton a leering, cadaverous smile. “You must have been disappointed.”
“I’ll get over it.”
“There were other concessions,” Scorpius said, theorizing.
“Correct again. One person had to be sacrificed in order to defeat the skrimm. One,” Crichton said, holding up a single index finger. “I sacrificed one person, not forty billion.”
“That is math, not morals, John.”
“That is an acceptable loss,” Crichton said. “Maybe even a benefit to the universe.”
“You are, of course, referring to me,” Scorpius said.
Crichton stepped close to Scorpius. He tugged at the hardened leather covering the half-breed’s shoulders, settling the wing-like layers into place, then flicked several bits of dust and dirt off of the gleaming cooling suit. “Yes,” he said once he had finished.
“I am still alive, John. And you have already said that you agreed not to take my life.”
Crichton shrugged. It was a relaxed, uncaring shrug, one that said he was not bothered by whatever was about to take place. “I agreed that I would not take your life,” he said, emphasizing the second ‘I’. “But you are right. You won’t die, although you may wish that you had.”
“If I am not dead, then I will eventually prevail,” Scorpius snarled.
“Not this time, Scorp.” Crichton clapped him on the shoulder one more time, and then headed for where Greshyn stood at the end of the corridor, walking more quickly and with more purpose than she had seen him move so far. “The price I had to pay to get the energy riders to enter into an alliance with us was the opportunity to taste a creature they have never encountered before. They did not know there was such a thing as a half-sebacean-half-scarran until I mentioned you. My bad.”
“What do you mean by taste, John?” Scorpius called after him.
Crichton motioned Greshyn and Sun through the hatch leading to the labs. He paused, one foot still in the corridor, and yelled loudly in the direction of the ceiling, “Boys! It’s feeding time. Come and get it while he’s hot!”
An instant later, the corridor was filled with flickering light, appearing out of the floor, the walls, the ceiling, out of every surface. Blues, greens, reds, and yellows sailed toward a single point, swooping and diving, racing toward where Scorpius stood abandoned and alone. Greshyn looked back one last time, toward her commander, toward the spot where Olpin and Ssezzin lay, where they had given up their lives in a futile battle, defending a project that had been a waste of twenty cycles worth of effort. The patterns of flickering light began to solidify as they approached Scorpius, sorting themselves out into wings and bodies, into dozens of individuals. The patterns continued to appear, pouring into the tunnel from every imaginable direction, until there were hundreds, possibly thousands crowding together, battling to be the first to reach the black-clad figure, overlapping, merging, racing, eager … hungry.
“Come,” Sun said, tugging at Greshyn’s arm. “Come away.”
She turned away then, finally understanding some portion of what was about to happen, but not before the first of the energy riders reached Scorpius. He lurched, staggered for a moment, and then recovered as one passed through him front to back. Another struck and he staggered again, this time with a small shuddering vibration added in. A third flicker of light and energy hit him, and the impact generated a longer, more violent tremor. He had more trouble staying on his feet. His eyes widened, he gaped at the thickening cloud closing in around him, and then he looked toward where Crichton continued to stand in the hatchway. “John,” he said in a croak. “Please.”
“Goodbye, Scorpius. Nice knowing you,” Crichton said, and swung the door closed.
Greshyn stepped around Sun and motioned for the two to follow her, taking the lead for the first time since Crichton’s force had entered the underground base. Behind her, despite the motras-thick reinforced walls and the heavily armored door, she could hear Scorpius start to scream.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Thank you for reading!
Crash