The Negator, page 13
“So we won’t need pressure suits?”
“Correct. The entire diplomatic section uses pressure field technology to maintain habitable conditions. It was the obvious infiltration route.”
“But… you spoke about a trade commissioner.”
“Yes.”
“Is this a trade war?” I asked.
“No.”
“So—”
“Kane, you’re trying to understand the Kitharas with your limited intellect. That is futile at this juncture. We are doing this the only way possible. It might be tricky, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Trust you,” I said. “Yeah, I get it.”
Axion glanced at me.
I touched my blaster, the one that might or might not work when I needed it.
Did Axion grin the slightest bit? He didn’t know about the blaster’s problem, right?
That got me wondering. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“It is my nature to know,” he said.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“If you think about it, it is,” he said.
We approached the city’s docking complex— a series of bays that opened like mouths to receive incoming vessels. Our escort directed us toward one marked with distinct glowing symbols.
“The diplomatic dock,” Axion said. “It is conveniently isolated from the military harbors.”
The docking bay was a marvel of bioengineering. As our submarine entered, the walls secreted some kind of sealant that formed an airtight barrier around our hull. Then the water drained away, leaving us in a dry chamber.
“There is a breathable atmosphere,” Axion said, checking the sensors. “It is at standard pressure. The diplomatic quarter maintains Earth normal conditions.”
The submarine’s hatch opened. I stepped out onto the dock and noticed the difference from what I’d expected. Instead of the organic, flowing architecture I’d seen from outside, this section was more conventional. It was still alien, but with straight corridors.
“Follow me,” Axion said.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“The vault access is deeper in the city, but we can reach it through the trade corridors.”
Nira came with me.
Axion stopped and regarded her. “She should stay and await our return.”
Her eyes got big and worried.
“Why should she do that?” I said.
“Kane, please,” Axion said. “I know you distrust me, but it is nonsense bringing her with us. Besides, I can run rings around you without even trying. I promise to let you and the girl live.”
I looked at my ring. Was that a joke on his part about running rings around me? I hated puns, as they reminded me of my teachers in high school.
“Wait for me here,” I told Nira.
Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded.
Soon, Axion and I left the submarine and moved through passages designed for beings like us.
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We passed a few Kitharas in the corridors—each wearing modified items that covered just their gill slits, allowing them to breathe air while keeping their respiratory systems moist.
That’s what Axion told me anyway.
They barely glanced at us, but something about their movements made me wince.
“There’s a security checkpoint ahead,” Axion said.
Two Kithara guards stood at an intersection, checking identification. Their large eyes tracked our approach with the blank detachment of creatures following incomprehensible protocols.
Axion approached them confidently, speaking in rapid Kithara. He gestured at me, and I caught the word “specimens” in the translation.
The guards made a wet, rattling sound that might have been acknowledgment. One tilted its head to an angle impossible for a human neck, studying me with eyes that likely saw different spectrums than mine. After a long moment, it waved us through with a webbed hand.
“What did you tell them?” I asked once we were past.
“That you were a temple representative here to negotiate for captured surface dwellers from the recent raid. They found it… appropriate.”
We continued deeper into the city, following winding corridors. Through transparent barriers, I could see into the water-filled sections: Kitharas swimming past in formation. The pressure differential must have been enormous, but the barriers held.
Every Kithara we passed watched us with those large, unblinking eyes. They didn’t seem suspicious exactly, but aware. It was like they were cataloging our presence according to criteria I couldn’t understand.
“The deep vaults are below the main spire,” Axion said, his voice lower now. “We’ll need to leave the diplomatic quarter, but there’s a maintenance access kept at surface pressure. It was designed for emergency repairs by visiting technicians.”
Once again, I wondered how he’d learned all that. With his computer mind, I understood he could retrieve anything he’d ever learned.
We reached another checkpoint. This time, the guard was doing something with a control panel. He wasn’t typing, but moving his webbed fingers through holographic displays. It looked up as we approached.
Axion spoke again in Kithara. The guard’s head tilted as if considering. It made a gurgling sound and gestured at me.
“It wants to scan you,” Axion said. “Stand still.”
The guard produced a device that looked like a sea urchin made of glass and metal. It waved it over me, and I felt my skin prickle as unknown energies washed through me. The device chirped—or maybe screamed. It was hard to tell.
The guard studied the results, its massive eyes narrowing slightly. It spoke to Axion in tones that sounded like drowning.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Nothing,” Axion said, but there was tension in his voice. “Your genetic markers are unusual. He’s curious about that.”
The guard spoke again, and this time other Kitharas in the corridor stopped to watch. They weren’t threatening, but they were attentive in that alien way that made my stomach clench.
I was beginning to hate being down here.
Axion responded with a longer explanation, his tone patient, almost bored. Whatever he said, it must have satisfied the guard, who made that wet rattling sound again and waved us through.
We walked in silence for a while, the weight of alien attention following us through the corridors.
“That was close,” I said.
“They know something is different about you,” Axion said. “But they don’t know what. The Kitharas process information differently than we do. By the time he determines what bothered him, we’ll be gone.”
The maintenance passage entrance was marked with dim symbols. Axion said they were warning signs in multiple languages indicating danger, authorized personnel only, and something about pressure violations resulting in immediate death.
“That’s comforting,” I muttered.
The passage was narrow and clearly not meant for regular traffic. As we descended through the city’s core, past pipes and conduits that hummed with energy, I could feel the weight of water pressing around us. Through small viewports, I could see the water-filled sections of the city. It was beautiful and alien, but instant death if the pressure barriers failed.
We passed another Kithara in the maintenance tunnel, this one doing something to a panel. It looked at us with those huge eyes, and spoke in its drowning voice.
Axion responded curtly. The Kithara’s eyes tracked us as we passed, and I could feel its attention following us down the tunnel.
“It’s wondering why surface dwellers are in the maintenance section,” Axion said. “But it’s not security, just a technician. It will process the irregularity in its own way.”
“Which means what?” I said.
“I have no idea. The Kithara minds don’t work like ours.”
Finally, after what felt like hours—though it was probably only twenty minutes—we emerged into the vault chamber.
The walls were covered in flowing patterns of light, and the ceiling was transparent, giving us a view up through the spire’s entire height. Schools of creatures swam past outside the pressure barrier, their lights creating an ever-shifting display.
But it was what waited in the center of the chamber that made my breath catch.
The vault was a sphere of what looked like black glass, suspended in the chamber’s center by streams of energy that crackled and sparked.
“That’s ancient Polarion work,” Axion said, his voice carrying a note of something like reverence. “The Kitharas acquired this through temple theft, but they’ve never learned how to open it. No one ever had the ring, or was attuned to it like you are.”
Was that what the ring was, attuned to me? That was interesting, and good to know.
Then I focused on the vault.
This was it. After everything—the prison ship, the Burnt Polarion, Axion’s betrayal, the gravity sled, the temple battles—we were finally here.
“This is where I come in,” I said as I held up my right hand. The High Circle ring caught the chamber’s light, its surface showing patterns that matched those on the vault.
I approached the sphere, feeling the energy streams tingle against my skin. I had to be ready for Axion, as I was sure he’d try to kill me the moment I opened the vault. I was very aware of my blaster, and that it might or might not work.
As I got closer to the vault, the symbols on the surface began to glow brighter, probably responding to the ring’s presence. My heart was pounding.
“Place your palm against the central symbol,” Axion said, his voice unusually quiet.
I found the symbol he meant. It was a complex pattern that looked like a star collapsed in on itself. As my ring-bearing hand touched the surface, the entire vault began to hum. The sound resonated through my bones, through the chamber, maybe through the entire city.
The sphere split open like a flower, its sections folding back with agonizing slowness to reveal what lay within.
It wasn’t a weapon, but a box.
My left hand dropped away from the handle of the blaster.
The box sat on a cushion of energy. It was about the size of a shoebox, made of the same black glass as the vault. Polarion script flowed across its surface.
“The Negator must be in there,” Axion said.
Ah. So that was the weapon’s name: the Negator.
“Open it,” Axion said tersely.
I stepped toward it, reaching out for the box.
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I held the box against my chest, its surface cool and smooth, like black glass. It was heavier than it looked, as if it contained a collapsed star.
“Open it,” Axion said, his optical sensors fixed on the box. “We should examine the weapon now, to make sure it is there.”
“Not here,” I said, already knowing I wasn’t going to do that. “Let’s get back to the sub first. Last thing we needed is to be standing around with our pants down when security shows up.”
Axion studied me for a moment. “You pick a curious expression, but I comprehend your meaning. Very well. The diplomatic quarter is this way.”
My thought was simple: I needed Axion to get us past security again. Thus, blasting him now would be a bad idea. He must realize what I was thinking, and maybe didn’t want a confrontation here either. This was getting extremely tricky.
We retraced our route through the maintenance passages, the narrow corridors feeling even more claustrophobic now that we had what we came for. Every sound made me tense: the hum of the pressure barriers, the distant gurgle of water through pipes, and my own breathing, which seemed too loud in the enclosed space.
“The Kitharas will have noticed the vault’s activation,” Axion said, leading the way. “Their response time is typically much slower than ours, especially in this sector.”
“How do you know that?”
“I studied their security protocols extensively before coming here. Preparation is essential for success.”
Right. While I’d been stumbling around on the surface, getting captured by priestesses, Axion had been planning every detail. The android was always three steps ahead. Or at least, he thought he was.
The box grew warmer in my hands, maybe responding to my ring. Through the black glass surface, I could feel something inside—not physically, but like a presence: the Negator, the weapon that could kill a proto-god insane with mathematics.
We emerged from the maintenance tunnel into the diplomatic quarter proper. The change was immediate, from cramped service passages to the wide, climate-controlled corridors designed for air-breathing visitors. A few Kitharas moved past, barely glancing at us.
“Maintain a steady pace,” Axion said. “Not too fast, not too slow. We’re traders completing a transaction.”
I nodded, shifting the box to look more casual. My blaster hung at my side. If it didn’t work, I’d have the knife and nothing else. Well, the knife and an android who could apparently rip people apart with his bare hands.
“Turn here,” Axion said.
We entered a narrower corridor that led toward the docking section. The walls thrummed with power systems, probably what kept this pocket of air intact beneath thousands of tons of water.
There were two Kithara guards at an intersection ahead, checking identification. One of them looked up, his large fish eyes focusing on us.
“Steady,” Axion murmured.
I could see the guard’s posture change. Something about us must have triggered suspicion. Maybe it was the box. Maybe it was the fact we were heading toward the docks without proper escort, or maybe just instinct or an alarm.
The guard held up a webbed hand, which clearly meant stop. He spoke in Kithara.
“Of course,” Axion said.
The guard relaxed. His partner was already looking past us.
Axion moved faster than my eyes could track. There was a wet crunch as his fingers went through the guard’s skull. Black alien blood sprayed across the corridor wall.
The second guard started to raise a weapon. Axion grabbed the barrel and crushed it like brittle metal, then drove his other hand into the guard’s chest. I heard bones snapping like dry twigs.
Axion lifted the guard off the floor with the hand buried in his chest, then twisted. The sound was indescribable. The guard went limp, and Axion dropped him to the floor in a spreading pool of black blood.
The whole thing took barely three seconds.
“We should move,” Axion said, his voice calm, as if he’d just completed a routine task. Black blood dripped from his silver hands. “Others will have heard that.”
I stared at the bodies. The sheer mechanical brutality reminded me what Axion really was.
“Kane,” he said. “We need to go.”
I stepped over the spreading pool of fluid, trying not to look at the guard’s face frozen in an expression of surprise. We moved faster now, no longer pretending to be casual traders. An alarm started wailing somewhere behind us.
“Thirty meters to the docking bay,” Axion said.
We ran.
My boots splashed through puddles of condensation, the box bouncing against my chest. The alarm grew louder, joined by others. The entire diplomatic quarter was probably going into lockdown.
The docking bay entrance was ahead. The massive pressure door was starting to close—a safety protocol to contain breaches, no doubt. We weren’t going to make it.
Axion accelerated, moving faster than any human could. He caught the closing door with both hands, servos whining as he fought against the massive hydraulics. The door slowed, stopped, then started opening again.
“Go!” he shouted.
I ducked under his arms and through the gap. The submarine was right where we’d left it, sitting in its berth with the water drained around it. I could see Nira’s face through one of the viewports, her eyes wide with fear.
Axion released the door and followed me through. It slammed shut behind us with a boom that echoed through the chamber.
We ran to the submarine. I jumped inside, Axion right behind me.
“Kane!” Nira cried out with relief, throwing her arms around me. “I heard alarms. What happened?”
“We got it,” I said, holding up the box. “But we need to leave. Now.”
Axion was already at the controls, his fingers flying over the alien interfaces. The submarine’s engines hummed to life as the front section closed with a boom. Through the viewport, I could see the bay beginning to flood as the system prepared to open the outer doors.
Then the radio crackled to life. A harsh Kithara voice filled the submarine, the translation software rendering it in flat English: “Vessel Depth Hunter, you are not cleared for departure. A security breach has been reported. Power down your engines and prepare for inspection.”
Axion’s hands kept moving over the controls.
The voice came again, harder: “Vessel Depth Hunter, this is your final warning. A security detail is already en route. Any attempt to leave will be considered an act of war. You have ten seconds to comply.”
Through the viewport, I could see dark shapes moving in the water outside the bay. Lots of shapes. The security detail wasn’t just en route. They were already here.
“Axion?” I said.
“I heard them,” he replied, not looking up from the controls. “This should prove interesting.”
The submarine shuddered as the docking clamps released. We were committed. Whatever happened next, we were going to have to fight our way out.
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The security vessels converged on us like sharks smelling blood. Through the viewport, I counted six patrol subs, sleek and predatory.
“Hold on,” Axion said, his hands dancing over the controls with inhuman speed.
The first giant harpoon came at us from the left. Axion rolled our submarine in a corkscrew maneuver that made my stomach lurch. The harpoon passed beneath us by inches, detonating against the docking bay wall in a burst of blue-white energy.
“They’re trying to disable, not destroy,” Axion said, as if he were discussing the weather. “It would appear that they want us alive.”
