Nyxia Uprising, page 15
…drills? It sounds impossible. A pair of drills are boring through the metal. We all stare at their progress. The three marines move like magnets toward the spot, guns raised and ready. I stare from behind the protective glass as the hole widens. The drills retract slowly. Hooks slip through the gaps, attaching to the interior walls and flexing tight. A second passes before the newly made door collapses inward.
I stare in awe as a girl floats forward. Gravity snares her. She lands neatly. Her skin is dark, and her hair is dyed a bright blond color. I’ve never seen her before. I blink as others follow her through the carefully made gap. There are ten of them. All teenagers. All of them wearing the same nyxian masks we did. My mind pieces together another clue. Defoe mentioned Genesis 14. This must be the fourth crew they launched into space. But if Babel brought them here, why are they drilling to get back inside the station?
Uncertain, Defoe’s marines spread out. The new Genesis crew keeps a tight formation, backs pressed to the hangar bay’s exterior wall. The leading girl raises both hands innocently. She heaves the biggest sigh of relief I’ve ever seen. I can’t quite hear her words—everything is muted by the glass—but I watch as she unleashes a choking sob and rushes to hug the nearest marine.
He lowers his weapon. What a mistake.
The knife at the girl’s hip becomes the knife in the girl’s hand becomes the knife in the marine’s neck. The scene unfolds like a dying flower. His partners react, lifting their weapons, but the bullets lodge into spawning nyxian shields. I watch their crew move in flawless harmony. Ducking around one another, lifting summoned weapons, circling their prey.
The two marines realize they’re trapped.
Backpedaling.
Dead.
As blood splashes to the floor, I reach out and pull one of the techies flat to the ground. My whispered command snakes through the air. “Stay down. Out of sight. No one moves.”
Silence reigns. Defoe’s lips continue to move and mutter. Each second weighs an hour. There’s a slight gap between the door and the wall. It’s open just enough to hear the echo of movement. Their group is debating something. For the thousandth time, I wrestle with the correct action. Do I betray Defoe now? This crew is a question mark. Where are their loyalties?
They just killed Babel marines. Does that mean they’re on our side?
I realize I could never convince them to trust me.
So I wait in the room. Eventually, the hangar grows quiet.
“I’m going to look,” I whisper.
Both techies are sweating and panicked. Before they can protest, I push carefully up from the ground. My eyes rise above the bottom rim of the glass window. I spy the three corpses, but the rest of the hangar is empty. My heart hammers in my chest. I’m debating what to do next when Defoe lets out a satisfied laugh. He whispers the last thing I want to hear.
“Hello, Anton.”
I stand at the rear of our makeshift command center. Aguilar picked this place as a containment strategy. The room boasts a less complex system than the main command center. It allows her to monitor her team more closely. Fewer chances of betrayal. I like the place because there’s a hidden back door in one corner that leads to all my favorite places.
It’s hard to stop thinking that way.
Back doors. Tunnels. Hiding.
It takes effort to return my attention to the task at hand. Every console glows with blue light. Hands dance over schematics and layouts. Quick swipes silence the growing number of alarms. Our crew has been on high alert ever since the first alarm announced objects leaving the planet’s atmosphere. Patrols roam the corridors. Vandemeer is sending reports from our detainment area. It didn’t take Aguilar’s team long to determine the incoming ships weren’t from Babel. That news had my heart beating with a new kind of hope.
The Imago are coming. Maybe my friends are with them.
“Twenty-three breaches,” one of the techies announces. “Most of them are along the hull of the Genesis 12. There’s only one outlier in the mix. A breach near the auxiliary hangar.”
My eyes narrow. “That could be the Genesis 14 crew.”
Aguilar shakes her head. “There’s no way to know. We don’t have eyes on any of it after shutting down the main security system. We can bring it back online, but we risk giving anyone loyal to Babel a foothold if it’s up and running.”
“Let’s focus on the main breaches,” I say. “Is anyone aboard the Genesis 12?”
“One of our techies was performing maintenance there. Her name is Lilja Gudmundsson,” the nearest techie says. “The no-grav areas are patchy at best. We can’t get any contact. But we have an open line with the person that was posted on guard rotation aboard the Genesis 12.”
It takes her a second to scan down the list before she selects the right name. A photo appears on her console, and she transfers it to the main screen for the rest of us to see. A pale face with dark raven eyes. “Dr. Karpinski,” Aguilar announces. “Let’s get him on the comm.”
It takes a few seconds for the link to work. A hesitant voice echoes back to us.
“He-hello?”
“This is Commander Aguilar. Are you at your post aboard the Genesis 12?”
“I’m here.”
Dr. Karpinski’s file is up on the screen. The more I read, the less confident I feel. He was one of the caretakers aboard the Genesis 11. His two wards were Roathy and Isadora. I can’t help noticing the demerit listed in the bottom right corner of his file. It describes the doctor’s actions during their flight as “reckless” and “treasonous.” It goes on to say he “intentionally endangered the life of Emmett Atwater, a valued asset…”
All I can do is shake my head. Not the most promising option.
“Dr. Karpinski, our systems are showing breach points in the Genesis 12. We believe a number of Imago ships have made contact. Based on information provided by Erone and Anton, we believe that the Imago are launching into space and intend to join us in the fight against Babel.”
There’s a long pause. “Did you say breach points? They’re actually up here?”
“Yes. They’ve breached the ship.” Aguilar glances at me. “You are under no obligation to approach, but we could really use some eyes on what’s happening while we organize a more official welcoming committee. We also don’t want the Imago to damage the ship in any way. If you’re willing to help, we can walk you through it.”
There’s too much fear in Karpinski’s voice. No way in hell he actually goes.
Aguilar mutes her headset and glances at me. “Erone?”
I’ve been trying to contact him. There’s a good chance he’s still passed out in the original command center. I shake my head. “No response. I’ll go find him if this doesn’t work.”
Tension fills the room as we wait. Karpinski’s voice finally breaks back through.
“Just tell me what to do.”
Aguilar shoots me a surprised look before walking him through the process. It’s a nice twist of Babel’s tech. She has Karpinski go into the settings of his scouter and invert the screen. She feeds into his individual line, and in less than a few minutes, we’re seeing what Karpinski sees. Aguilar converts it the main screen, and we watch the frightened doctor perform his first act of bravery: he reaches down and swipes his card.
The entrance gasps open. An empty hallway waits. There’s a slight blue glow coming off his headset. It makes the edges of our camera angle look thick with fog. Aguilar guides him down the right hallways. I activate my own headset and brief him on the situation. He still looks like Babel. The Imago will see him as the enemy. Unless he tells them we’re with Erone.
I stare at the POV screen and find myself hoping for a familiar face. I want him to round a corner and run into Morning or Parvin or Alex. Hell, I’d even take Katsu at this point. I just want some proof that they’re still alive. The room takes a collective breath when Karpinski rounds another corner. In the distance, the Imago are waiting.
It’s a far larger group than I expected. Fifty of them? Maybe more? They wait in a proper defensive formation. Each gap in their front lines is accented by a flickering nyxian shield. My eyes are drawn beyond the group too.
About twenty drill tips have punched through the side of the ship. Each one expanded out wide enough to allow a person through. Nyxia blankets the gaping holes neatly.
“Air locks,” I realize. “That’s clever.”
No one replies. Everyone is too busy staring. Karpinski looks frozen too. He stands by the entrance, and I have no doubt that it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever seen in his life. Babel showed them the same videos they showed us. In his mind, the Imago are brutal warriors. Erone hasn’t done much to soften that reputation either. And while the waiting Imago don’t all look like soldiers, all of them are definitely armed.
“Translator active?” Aguilar asks.
Karpinski takes a deep breath. “Active. Engaging now.”
And the doctor starts bravely forward. He’s smart enough to lift both hands innocently into the air. An Imago soldier slips around their summoned barrier. He wears a simple off-white jumpsuit. There’s a single black sash crossing his chest. He matches Karpinski step for step, his head tilting slightly as he studies our lowly emissary.
Karpinski begins. “I come in peace.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. Aguilar shoots me a God-help-us-all look.
“We’re not with Babel,” he continues. “Our commander is one of your own. Do you know Erone? He’s an Imago like you. We’re following his orders.”
“Erone?” The leader’s voice is smoother than silk. “The Tinker?”
Our POV camera shakes as Karpinski nods. “I think so. Is that what you call him?”
“It’s what we called him,” the leader corrects. “Erone was kidnapped. Every ring saw the footage. We have not forgotten that betrayal. The queens believed he was dead.”
Karpinski shakes his head. “He’s alive. He’s in control of the ship. He sent us to greet—”
But a look from the Imago leader buries the rest of his sentence. Even watching it through the safety of a screen, I can’t help flinching. Hatred breathes through the expression.
“Alive? Perhaps. In control of the ship? I doubt that. But the idea that Erone would send you to greet us? Clearly you know nothing of Imago custom. None of our kind would ever send a stranger in the place of a friend. You have lost my faith.”
Aguilar senses the encounter slipping through our fingers. She hisses a command through the headset. “Tell them Erone is watching the prisoners. Leaving risks our control of the ship.”
And her mistake seals Karpinski’s fate. The bright blue at the edge of his vision flashes as his headset receives the inbound message. Before Karpinski can even process the words, an unmistakable sequence begins. The Imago leader’s eyes widen in suspicion. He plants his back foot. The black sash running across his chest smokes into the air. It forms back into the shape of an ax.
“Wait!” Karpinski shouts. “Erone. He’s with—”
The POV camera offers front-row seats to the murder. Aguilar flips a switch in time to mute Karpinski’s screams, but the screen shows more than enough. Our newly converted techies watch as their fears come true. The Imago prove as brutal as their employers always promised they were. I can feel our footholds vanishing as Karpinski slumps to the floor, camera shaking.
The nearest techie looks back and asks the question on everyone’s mind.
“I thought you said they were on our side?”
I know it’s too late for empty promises.
“Seal Genesis 12. I’ll find Erone and take him down. He’ll set all of this straight.”
“You heard him. Seal the ship,” Aguilar orders. And then she leans toward me and lowers her voice to less than a whisper. “We are about to lose this ship. Find Erone. Take him down there. We’ll activate your POV camera. I need you to show them this was all a misunderstanding. If you don’t do that and do it soon, we’re going to have a mutiny on our hands.”
I nod back to her. “I’ve got this.”
I cross the room, mind racing. Fear runs through every vein. I’m already counting all the ways this could possibly go wrong. I can’t help wondering if leaving Aguilar behind is a mistake. What if she decides none of this is worth the risk? If she decides to load the rest of the survivors onto a ship and leave, there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
I turn a corner and run right into Erone. The blow knocks the wind out of me. Erone stumbles before righting himself against the nearest wall. When he sees it’s me, his eyes light up.
“Hello, Anton.”
That strangeness is back in his voice. His eyes roam around the hallway like he’s seeing the ship for the first time. I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, but right now it doesn’t matter. He’s our best chance at keeping the Imago from slaughtering the rest of the crew.
“Imago have boarded the ship,” I say. “You were right. They launched. But they still think we’re with Babel. They killed the first person we sent down to speak with them. You and I need to go down there together, Erone. We have to show them you’re still alive.”
Erone takes longer than normal to process that. I eye the purpling bruise on his forehead. Our last conversation didn’t make any sense. He fell at the end of it and hit the floor hard. Perhaps he has a concussion? After watching what happened to Karpinski, we’ll have a hard time convincing a doctor to actually treat him.
“Take me to the command center instead.”
I frown. “We really don’t have time for that, Erone. Your people just killed one of our guys. If the Imago don’t see that you’re alive and working with us, we’re going to have big problems.”
Erone nods. “We can use the communication system. Let me speak to them.”
I’m about to push back when I see the way he’s looking at me. A familiar danger lurks. I haven’t forgotten Katherine Ford or David Requin. How quickly both of them fell when Erone decided their end had come. I take a deep breath and nod. “Back this way. Let’s give it a shot.”
“This way will be more efficient,” he promises.
I scan back into the control room. Aguilar raises an appraising eyebrow before noting Erone trailing me. The whole room flinches a little at his arrival. They all just got a live look at what he’s capable of doing. Most of them avoid eye contact, just in case.
“Can you pipe Erone through to the Genesis 12?” I ask. “He thinks broadcasting his voice will be enough. It’s worth a shot, right?”
Aguilar looks annoyed, but nods anyway. “We can definitely try it. Sierra, will you get those systems back online?”
Erone takes his place on the command deck. I stand beside him, and my eyes are drawn back to the main screen. We’re still watching everything unfold from Karpinski’s perspective. The only difference is that the angle is looking out from the ground. I try to ignore the puddled blood on the right side of the screen. Imago scouts are testing the boundaries of the room. Most of them are still huddled in defensive positions. Erone considers the scene for a few seconds before glancing back at Aguilar.
“So you are in charge?” he asks. “Of all this?”
Aguilar frowns at him. “…I’ve been handling the technical side of things, yeah.”
And something powerful fractures the air around us. I’m shoved to one side. My shoulder bangs into the nearest console, and the techie at that station jumps back in surprise. I whip my head around in time to witness the impossible. A black sword has pierced Aguilar’s stomach. Erone has her shoulder in a vise grip. The last thing she does is look at me.
There’s disbelief and confusion and fear there.
In an elegant motion, Erone slides his sword free. A deadly arc brings it swinging back around at my neck. I gasp when the blade stops just short.
“I am in command now,” he says. “Anton’s game is at an end.”
Disbelief dominates the room. Aguilar is dead. I am a hostage. Erone has rebelled again. I know we represented hope to them. These were the Babel employees who dared to dream we might take them home when their employers would not. That hope just died.
“Where are the Imago?” Erone asks.
The techies aren’t foolish enough to play games.
One answers, “All of them are aboard the Genesis 12.”
Erone watches the screen for a few seconds. Was this his plan the entire time? Overthrow Requin. Play nice until his people arrived. Anger burns to life inside me. There’s nothing I can do about it with a sword at my neck, but the betrayal digs down beneath my skin.
I actually helped him.
“How many are there?” he asks.
“Over fifty of them.”
Erone nods decisively. “Seal the ship.”
A few techies look up in confusion. “We’ve already sealed the ship.”
“Unlatch the Genesis 12. Send them into space.”
Now everyone looks back. The command doesn’t make any sense. These are his own people. Somehow, I manage to find my voice again. “I don’t get it. They’re Imago.”
Erone’s blade slips across my throat. My eyes widen, but it’s not a killing blow, just a warning. He brings the hilt of the sword slamming into the nearest console. Glass shatters, and the seated techie has to leap out of the way.
“I said unlatch them.”
This time the techies don’t hesitate. I hear one of them mumble the name of the other techie that we couldn’t get in contact with—Lilja. She’ll be just as lost as the Imago.
I watch helplessly as a series of codes unlock the mechanisms that moor the Genesis 12 to our station. Erone oversees the strangest betrayal I’ve ever witnessed. None of this makes any sense. When the sequence completes, a blue grid of schematics flashes into midair. We all watch as an outline of the Genesis 12 flashes red. The whole ship floats quietly away from the main structure. All the surviving Imago begin their unwanted journey into space. It’s not hard to imagine what happens next. Without pilots or an understanding of the navigation system, they’re all going to die. Erone nods to himself.
