Sahane’s fur rippled erect. His voice was hushed, barely audible even over the comm. “He… he is here?”
Anderssen met his eyes and nodded assent. “Why else should the Banner Crimson and Black fly here, save he was present?” And perhaps he was, she thought, remembering the Lord Serpent. Perhaps he was. “Will you help me lift him up, into the land of the living?” She tilted her head towards Lojtnant Piet. “Their message is for him, you know. They seek his help, to be guided, as The People are guided.”
Sahane looked at Piet in puzzlement, and then he nodded as understanding slowly took hold. “I… I see. I did not know-that you believed as we believe.”
“All,” Hummingbird interjected very smoothly, before Piet could answer, “seek Guidance.”
“Then what can I do?” Sahane’s nervousness was palpable.
Anderssen took his hand, feeling a cool shock as her fingers passed through the aura of glyphs surrounding the young alien. “We will move these constellations like… so…”
Codes unlocked at the priest’s touch and the great machine trembled awake. The Thread emitted an audible wail. Enormous energies, long held in abeyance, were released. Mechanisms spun to life, twisting the pattern of space, dragging at infinity like Herakles against the Promethean chain.
Gretchen heard someone’s swift, measured breathing rasp on her suit comm and the soft clink of metal on metal.
We’re out of time.
Far far below, at the mouth of the abyss, two structures moved-one up, one down. The consoles flared alight with warnings, flashing glyphs and symbols of all kinds. Sahane goggled at the displays, dark eyes filled with the hot glow of the lights. Simultaneously, his exo bleated a warning just as Anderssen’s fingertips-no more than a millimeter from his body- adjusted the drifting pattern of glyphs which controlled the alien’s body armor. The z-suit helmet suddenly detached with a thonk! as the retaining ring popped loose. The Hjo screamed, clawing at his neckring-atmosphere warmer than the sub-freezing atmosphere in the chamber rushed out, frosting the inside of his helmet solid white.
Her blood surging with adrenaline, Anderssen took the first chance for protection and heaved herself over the console just as Lojtnant Piet, shouting in alarm, lunged forward to catch Sahane. The other two Templars turned hastily towards the near stairway, their guns coming up. Hummingbird hurled himself to one side, but too late as they both squeezed off a burst. Flechettes pocked the nauallis’ chest and shoulder, punching him back. His footing lost, Hummingbird toppled down the steps, directly past the Jaguar Knight crouching at the edge of the platform.
Koris sidestepped the Judge nimbly. One powerful arm pitched a bundle of short-fuse grenades onto the platform. Lojtnant Piet turned awkwardly, Sahane’s armored body clutched to his chest. The Hjo’s z-suit was rippling into spiked bio-armor while his clawlike hands struggled to replace the helmet. The grenade-bundle exploded less than a meter from Piet and Sahane in a stunning blast of flame and armor-piercing shrapnel.
The Hjo bio-armor crumpled. Sahane’s helmet flew backward and the plasma-flare boiled the priest’s flesh from his skull. The blast flung Piet and the corpse into the Thread. Like the bronze tablet, both Templar and Hjo were diced neatly in half before disappearing from sight.
The blast also slapped aside the other armored Templars. One hurled forward down the steps to crash into the Jaguar Knight in a tangle of arms and legs. The other slammed against the edge of a console, but bounced back, shaken but unharmed. The Templar vaulted the nearest control panel and skidded down the side of the pylon, showing fabulous dexterity in remaining upright. Two more marines opened fire on the Order Knight as he alighted, but neither was clad in battle armor.
Gretchen looked away as she heard the two Imperials die over the open circuit on her suit-comm. She clung by her fingernails to the base of the console, her feet dangling over a hundred-foot drop. Anderssen could see that the fight on the stairs was over, the remaining Templar having shattered Koris’ faceplate and flung him aside. Anderssen pulled back from the edge of the platform, wheezing, her damaged z-suit once more hissing air. Lacking the time to fumble out another cylinder of quickseal, Gretchen dragged herself up to the viewing screen. The surface was undamaged, and a quick glance showed pulsating warning symbols surrounding a new control constellation. An override, she guessed, her hand poised over the half-understood symbology.
Is it right for me to make this choice, Gretchen’s conscience ventured. For an entire race? One I’ve observed only in fragmentary dreams and through teaching-illusions? Guided by an untested hypothesis which could be so, so wrong?…
Lord Serpent stared back at her out of memory. A brilliant, golden glare of unfettered, unparalleled power. Brighter even than the plasma-blast incinerating its host. Eat then, of the fruit of knowledge, and you shall know the truth.
Anderssen’s fingers moved on the console and the override blinked out.
The entire great machine groaned once more as the Thread whined to life. Far below, one structure rose, the other fell. Out of the corner of her eye, almost obscured by the helmet, she caught a glimpse of the last Templar turning towards her, assault rifle swinging up. It was Captain Locke. Gretchen swallowed against a dry, dry throat; a prayer to the Virgin of the Roses on her lips.
“Traitor-” Locke jerked as a very small hole appeared in his faceplate. Water vapor, blood, and atmosphere jetted out, condensing into dirty-red frost. The Templar pitched to one side, quite dead. Gretchen saw Hummingbird, one arm shattered, crouched at the edge of the platform, a tiny black gun in his hand.
“You do carry a pistol,” Anderssen said, crawling towards him. She was feeling so very, very cold. Her med-band shone solid red. “I always knew you did.”
“Not mine,” Hummingbird wheezed, his pupils huge from the meds coursing through his system. Shaking, he tossed the pistol aside. The weapon clattered away, fetching up at the foot of one of the consoles. “There is a grav-sled below, Anderssen, we can-”
He stopped, suddenly apprehending the bleak expression on her face, the cold, lifeless light in her eyes as she staggered up on both feet. Her field tool was in one hand as she limped towards him, the trenching spike extended.
“You just saved my life, Crow, but we are not even.”
Alarmed, the nauallis edged away from her advance, barely able to crawl.
“You drew that damned bronze block across my path as a lure, letting the teacher inside infest my mind-you brought the Prince and Sahane here against their will, just so you could cut out their hearts on this hell-bound altar-yes, a nice symmetry, bringing three keys to the doors of the tripartite temple.” Her voice rose, ringing harshly on the suit-comm. “And you’ve your back up-these soldier-priests with their superb armor and unflinching resolve-but-by my eyes-they are all dead now, Crow, and only you and I are left.”
“Anderssen!” Hummingbird’s voice was ragged, but he managed something of his old strength. “Stop this foolishness! You need me to get out of here; we need each other to survive the next ten hours, we-”
“There is no we!” Gretchen lunged, slamming the field tool down at his face with a convulsive, rage-fueled stroke. The nauallis rolled away with a gasp at the last second, his face blanching white, and the pick screeched on the Vay’en metal of the floor. Hummingbird scrambled up, broken arm clutched against his thin chest. For the first time, she saw a glint of real fear in his limpid green eyes. The scarred, impassive face was suddenly showing signs of humanity. He scuttled back, finding himself caught in the wedge-shaped corner of two of the consoles.
“Doctor Anderssen, you know the kinds of things I must do. You know my purpose. I have never misled you about my aims. This place-”