He jumped, experience telling him he should go up and come back down but hoping he wouldn’t. For a moment, he felt gravity pulling against him. Then it seemed to vanish, and he was falling headfirst toward the network of bridges above. Or was it below?

  He flipped over, getting his feet under him just as he reached the next platform, landing hard. He looked up to see the Norg giving chase, and he threw himself sideways off the platform just before an energy bolt hit where he had just been standing.

  Hayden wasn’t sure where the maneuver would leave him. He let the shifting gravity take hold, carrying him upward past a few of the platforms until he landed on his back. He holstered one revolver, grabbing a speedloader and quickly reloading the other. The Norg continued to chase him, jumping from one platform to another in a pattern that would bring him even with Hayden, but once more inverted.

  Hayden shoved himself to his feet, looking down at the small island. Vyte had to be inside.

  The Norg squealed again, jumping to the left and rotating, the move carrying it to the platform perpendicular to Hayden’s. It fired from its palms again, and Hayden rolled away, then took three steps and jumped toward another platform. He caught the edge of it with his foot. Pushing off, he twisted in the air, finding the dents on the Norg’s armor and emptying the revolver into the same spot. The bullets struck the metal, increasing the dents and causing the Norg to grunt in pain.

  He landed more smoothly this time, starting to get the hang of the physics. His eyes tracked over the platforms, looking for a way down.

  The Norg jumped up, rotating and coming down on a nearby platform, its body at a right angle to his. It threw a hard punch at his head, which he moved the wrong way to dodge. The blow hit him in the shoulder, knocking him off the platform.

  Hayden didn’t fall far, landing flat on his back on the bridge below it. He rolled over as the Norg jumped down at him. Reaching up with his free hand, he caught hold of its large bare foot.

  Bare?

  He held it just long enough to press the business end of his revolver to the flesh and pull the trigger.

  The creature howled in pain, its foot a pulpy mess. It tumbled sideways and Hayden rolled with it, holding tight to the Norg’s ankle and letting it pull him from the platform.

  He let go as it fell, reaching out and grabbing onto the edge of the island, digging in with the strength of his augment. The Norg continued to fall, turning and howling again as it landed back on the original platform. It dropped to its knee, unable to stand the pain.

  Hayden’s damaged arm didn’t have the range of motion to help pull him up. He dangled there, barely hanging on, his fingers digging deeper into the stone. He growled as he prepared to yank his body up on one arm.

  The cavern suddenly trembled, and a deep wail echoed from far below. Hayden looked down as a rumble rose from the depths, in time to see movement beneath the platforms. The Norg heard it too, and it urged it back up to its feet. It tried to run, but the creature’s thousands of sharp teeth penetrated the platform, snapping around the hybrid like a fish rising out of the water to snare a fly. It hovered there, opening and closing its maw when its teeth didn’t push right through the Norg’s metal armor. The Norg squealed like a pig as it thrashed around, trying to get free.

  The monstrous head of the damnation sank back into the darkness, taking the Norg with it.

  Hayden checked his HUD. Thirty seconds. He set himself and pulled, groaning slightly as he brought his body up on one arm, heaving himself up and over onto the island. He rolled onto his knees, looking into the opening. The entire space was filled with wires and circuits, millions of thin gold or copper lines stretching out in thousands of directions all across flat black interior walls.

  An Intellect stood in the center of it, wires jutting out from the back of its head and tracing their way along the floor.

  Vyte.

  His exterior was organic flesh, grayish and slightly hairy, long and lean and completely naked. Vyte was clearly an Axon. Less clearly a machine save for the hole in his skull and the visible gel beneath. He didn’t look like much to Hayden. The Norg hybrid had been more intimidating.

  He didn’t seem to know Hayden was there. He didn’t move at all, remaining fixed in place, all of his attention currently somewhere inside the Collective. Hayden took the opportunity to reload before walking toward the Axon, guns up and ready to fire as the last seconds before Caleb made his move slipped away.

  He made it all the way to the Axon, putting the muzzle of one of the revolvers against Vyte’s head and shifting his finger to the trigger.

  “You should pay more attention to your surroundings, you son of a bitch,” he said as the countdown hit zero.

  His finger twitched, but the gun was gone.

  So was Vyte.

  So was everything.

  65

  Caleb

  Tora led Caleb and Stacker down the long corridor. The Skin’s cowl still sat around the back of Caleb’s neck, leaving his network connection offline, along with his ability to track the enemy beyond visual line of sight.

  They had already walked nearly a kilometer along the passage, their boots sloshing through the water dribbling down the walls and pooling in the corridors. Caleb’s hair was drenched in moisture and sweat. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and ran down his face. His lungs burned slightly, unhappy with the levels of oxygen they were able to draw. The other Marines were more comfortable in their combat armor, the automated systems adjusting to the environment and keeping them adequately cooled.

  The bad news was that the prison was much more distant than Caleb had expected. Nyla had made it seem like they had a few hundred meters to cross, not an entire klick of tunnel with multiple junctions crossing the route and causing them to move more slowly. He was determined to remain cautious and alert as they traversed the dim passages.

  The good news was that they had made the journey unmolested, covering the distance without running into any of the Norg soldiers that had confronted them earlier. Caleb chose to take their absence as a good sign. Firstly, Sergeant Gray and the Org Marines had managed to stymie the group that had chased them. Secondly, his decision to power off the Intellect Skin was keeping them from being easily tracked. And thirdly, Vyte didn’t have a separate army of Relyeh headed for Nyarlath’s prison, trying to cut them off.

  The third point was hard to prove before they reached the prison, but they had to be getting close enough to be nearly on top of it, and there was still no sign of the enemy anywhere.

  It was as if they had abandoned the entire area around the prison, intentionally leaving Caleb wide open to make his move against Nyarlath. It only served to bolster his increasing conviction that they were walking into a trap. He couldn’t help but feel that Nyla was going to turn out to be a devil in disguise, despite the faith Hayden had put in her and the faith Caleb had put in Hayden.

  I agree.

  “It’s too damn quiet in here,” Stacker said, verbalizing the same thing he was feeling. “Gives me the creeps.”

  “Time?” Caleb asked.

  “Five minutes,” Tora replied.

  Assuming Nyla wasn’t betraying them and had brought Hayden to Vyte, they had five minutes to reach the prison before the sheriff launched his effort to keep the Axon distracted. He wasn’t sure how far they still had to go. He could see nearly a hundred meters before the darkness swallowed the passage ahead, and there was still no apparent end in sight.

  They continued walking, covering another fifty meters when the tunnel ahead finally began to change. Caleb slowed slightly, noticing the black fibers that sprouted from the walls, crossing over one another and shrinking the size of the passage. He knew this place. He had been here before in Nyarlath’s Construct.

  They were almost there.

  “There have to be thousands of Relyeh on this ship,” he said. “And none of them are here to defend their queen.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t need them to defend her?” Tora suggested. “Maybe she can take care of herself.”

  “I’m sure she can,” Caleb said. “But she’s not in control.”

  That only makes her more dangerous.

  Unless Hayden came through.

  If he was even alive.

  Doubtful. I don’t like this.

  Caleb didn’t like it either. He would have taken too hard over too easy. At least too hard made sense.

  He grabbed his cowl, pulling it over his head and reconnecting it to the Skin. There was no point trying to be subtle any longer. If this were a trap, he would overcome it somehow. Whatever it took.

  “Knuckle-up. Stay sharp,” he said, increasing his pace toward the end of the corridor. The Skin was filtering the light and enhancing his vision, allowing him to see the membrane doorway—dark skin stretched taut across the entrance to Nyarlath’s prison.

  Caleb took a few more steps before starting to slow. He already knew this whole scenario was wrong, but a mote of understanding was slowly gathering shape in the back of his mind.

  He reached into his memories, back to the first time he had come down this same corridor in Nyarlarth’s Construct following the avatar she had made in her daughter’s image. He recalled there was no one outside the passage then either. No guards. No Vyte. Nothing to prevent the terrified Norg with him from turning and running.

  But it hadn’t. It had entered the chamber. It had waited for Nyarlath to move before fear got the best of it, and even then it hadn’t been able to escape. The membrane wasn’t especially tough, and Norg had decent claws. Not like trife, but sharp enough to tear through the leather-like flesh.

  So why had it stayed?

  Caleb came to a stop.

  “Colonel?” Stacker said, confused.

  “Hold on,” he replied. He stared at the strands of black fibers that covered the area leading to the prison. It was the only thing about the corridor that was different than the rest of the ship. That had to mean something.

  I think you’re right.

  Caleb charged the hand of the Skin and walked to the first of the black, fibrous strands, stopping when he was a few centimeters away. A closer inspection of the strands revealed unexpected ridges.

  The material wasn’t organic.

  I hate that you’re right.

  Caleb took a nervous step backward. He could feel Ishek’s fear in his mind, joining with his own.

  “Colonel?” Stacker repeated.

  “I’m going in,” Caleb said. “I need you to slow it down for as long as you can.”

  “Slow what down?” Tora asked.

  Caleb saw the strand begin to move. He didn’t answer Tora, instead dashing forward, pulling energy from the Skin to both his hands. The fibers started to move, reaching out for him like tentacles, trying to stop him. He slapped them away, the energy in his hands causing the ends to break apart and crumble to the floor.

  “Start shooting it,” he said. “Now!”

  “Shooting what?” Stacker said as he started firing into the strands.

  Caleb couldn’t see the outcome, but he could guess. The fibers would be stretching and combining, millions of tiny machines pulling themselves together into a single, nearly unstoppable entity.

  “It’s an Axon Intellect called a Guardian,” he said as he reached the membrane, using the Skin to cut right through it. “It’s the reason there are no other guards down here.” He pushed through the doorway as if it were giving birth to him, coming to a stop in front of the dark mound of the Relyeh ancient. “It’s the only defense Vyte needs.”

  66

  Tora

  Tora depressed the HRG’s trigger, the weapon whining sharply as it spat out flechettes—one after another—the dense spikes smashing through the black fibers and punching hard into the bulkhead. Stacker stood beside her, rifle clicking as it reached the end of its magazine. He pulled it out and reached for another, smacking it into place just as Tora’s gun went dry.

  “What the hell is it doing?” Stacker asked.

  They could both see the strands moving, stretching out toward one another and meeting in the center of the passage. The motion was like a sandstorm, the fibers breaking apart into smaller grains which appeared to have their own source of locomotion. They had already shot millions of them, leaving a layer of dark dust on the floor, but it hardly seemed to have made a dent.

  Caleb had called the thing a Guardian Intellect. Tora could guess what that meant. An Axon AI designed to protect things. Valuable things like a Relyeh Ancient. He had told them to try to keep it distracted, not to try to destroy it.

  Probably because they couldn’t.

  Tora didn’t need a degree in obvious to recognize they were screwed. This thing was here to defend Nyarlath, who was already more than capable of defending herself. That meant it wasn’t as much there to keep them out as it was to keep her in, which meant it was a machine capable of matching her in a fight. Tora hadn’t seen Nyarlath. She had no idea what the ancient looked like save through the alabaster girl, Nyla. She imagined they were similar in appearance, and while Tora hadn’t noticed anything about the strange humanoid creation to suggest she was dangerous, she had been around long enough to know that the most dangerous creatures were the ones that didn’t look like they could begin to hurt you.

  She let her eyes travel past the dark storm to the vacant end of the corridor. Caleb had walked into the fleshy membrane door, disappearing as he entered Nyarlath’s prison. How long would it take him to defeat the Relyeh, cut out one of her organs and get back out here? How much time did he need?

  Whatever the amount, she was going to give it to him. She absently dropped the spent magazine from the HRG and replaced it with a new one, resuming her attack.

  “This isn’t working,” Stacker said, continuing to shoot into the cloud. It was gaining density and shape in the middle of the passage now, the form vaguely humanoid as the motes continued to merge together. Every bullet probably destroyed a thousand of them, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  “We just need to keep it busy,” Tora replied. “Start falling back. How’s your ammo supply?”

  “I’ve got two mags left, and then it’s onto the sidearm. Two hundred rounds total, give or take. You?”

  “I’ve got two mags left for the HRG, a big knife and a microspear.”

  “Mind sharing?”

  Tora grabbed the knife and tossed it to Stacker.

  “Thanks.”

  The storm of micromachines was speeding up, each speck latching onto another and more quickly taking shape. A broad chest appeared in the passage, connected to a decreasingly vaporous head, arms and legs.

  Tora kept the HRG running. She could feel the heat of it burning her hand, the weapon not designed for such constant use. She ignored the pain, still retreating as she emptied the gun into the Guardian, blasting at the cloud to keep it from connecting to the rest.

  The Intellect changed suddenly. A ripple of blue energy flashed from the chest and across the cloud, flaring brighter in the places where their bullets hit it.

  The rounds struck the energy shield and redirected back at them. Tora cursed as she turned away, bullets smacking into her combat armor and threatening to punch through her helmet.

  “Hold your fire!” she snapped.

  Stacker stopped shooting, and like her, pivoted away from the rebounding slugs.

  A high pitched whine emanated from the Intellect, its arms and legs finishing their formation. The resulting being looked as though it were an ebony statue, seamless and perfect.

  It had formed itself into a nearly exact replica of Colonel Card.

  “What now?” Stacker asked.

  Tora glanced at her HUD. They had managed to hold its attention for twenty seconds so far. They could do better than that.

  “We’re Centurion Marines,” Tora replied. “Now we fight.”

  She dropped the HRG and grabbed her microspear, shouting as she rushed the Intellect. It emitted a short, sharp whine and raised its hand. She jabbed the spear at it and was thrown backward suddenly, shoved hard into the wall and pinned there.

  “Damn it,” she cursed, struggling to break free.

  Stacker followed up her attack, coming at the Intellect with the knife. It hit off the black metal shell, not even leaving a mark. The Intellect retaliated, moving faster than Tora could see. It grabbed Stacker’s arm, the bone shattering.

  He screamed in pain, his forearm hanging awkwardly, the bone protruding through and blood beginning to pour out. He dropped the knife, ducked low and scooped it up with his other hand. Spinning gracefully, he slashed at the Intellect’s head.

  The Intellect took a quick step back, evading the strike. It grabbed Stacker’s face in an oversized hand and violently twisted his head, the loud crack causing Tora to wince. It let go of Stacker, his dead body toppling to the deck.

  Tora struggled inside her armor as the Intellect looked at her, chirped and turned toward Nyarlath’s chamber.

  “Nooo!” Tora shouted, looking at the time. The Intellect had disabled her and killed Stacker in five seconds flat. How the hell were they supposed to fight it? And why couldn’t she move?

  The Intellect continued toward the chamber, its pace unhurried. Did it care that Caleb had gone in or was it just trying to ensure he didn’t come back out?

  Tora stopped struggling. It was pointless to waste her energy. She needed to focus on why she was stuck to the bulkhead. She looked down, shifting in her combat armor. The answer was suddenly obvious.

  She dropped the microspear and grabbed the straps to the armor, pulling them open enough for her to lift her legs and swing them out of the suit. She landed on the deck and immediately felt the effects of the high nitrogen atmosphere limiting the air getting to her lungs. She had a minute at best. It needed to be enough.

  She picked up the microspear and then the HRG. Maybe if the Intellect wasn’t looking, it might have shut down its strange shields. She crouched on the floor reduced to her sweaty underwear, aiming at the back of the Intellect’s head. She found the trigger and fired. A single round hit the Axon, its shields activating. The bullet skipped off, the angle carrying it into the wall.