Spiketail woke in darkness.
"Welcome back, Dr. Kail."
She sprang up, and looked around to see the familiar faces of her victims.
>You again,> she said.
Haines shrugged and grinned. "Where else would we be? Consider us your personal baggage."
>I have nothing more to say to you. My mind knows that. So why do I keep coming here?> she mused.
"Search me," the scientist responded wryly. "As I said, we don't bring you here."
>What is this place?>
One of the soldiers shrugged. "Death? The afterlife? Call it what you like. A little slice of it."
It hit her. The first time… the first time she had been chasing Talon. And she hadn't seen that elusive silhouette since…
>I've been looking for someone,> Spiketail said quietly.
¬Us, perhaps?¬
She spun to see the spectres of Spineback, and all of the Hive.
>I'm not responsible for your deaths,> she said.
Spineback's smiled mirthlessly. ¬Did I say you were? Maybe if you had been a little faster… if you had stopped Talon from going to Vathris… so many ifs. But it's irrelevant.¬
>Is it?> To her shock, Spiketail realised that guilt over the failure to protect the Hive was welling up.
¬Remember our philosophy, little drone. Those that die are always replaced. You are replacing me already. The Transformation has begun. As for the rest of us… what are drones? Pawns in the great scheme of things. When you finish the Transformation, you will understand.¬
>Perhaps,> said Spiketail doubtfully. >I didn't come here to find you, even though it has eased a pain I didn't know I had. I was chasing someone when I first came here. Talon.>
Haines shrugged. "She is not here. She is not among the dead, else I'm sure that she would be here right now."
>But I came after her! She went through the door to come here, and…>
"You haven't seen her since, I think," said Haines.
>How can she be alive? I saw the Asphodel get reduced to ash! Nothing could survive that?> She groaned. >This is a figment of my imagination. Some horrible fragment that wants me to live in forlorn hope. Well I'm not playing that game! I'm going now, I'll destroy Tartarus, become a Queen, and leave you in peace! It's over!>
Spineback bowed her crested head. ¬If that is what you believe, so be it. How do you know that something else brings you here, not these humans you killed, but something subconscious? Think about it, little drone.¬
The dark corridor blended into nothingness, the Queen's words echoing through her mind.
>Spiketail? Wake up, something's coming!>
She regained consciousness instantly. >What?>
"Cythera, probably," whispered Elysa.
They moved towards the corridor, listening to the distant tramping.
At the end of the corridor, they caught a brief glimpse of a column of Cythera moving by, and then the marching faded. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
"Doesn't anyone find it odd that T-T isn't trying to hammer us flat?" asked Tyrion.
"He's right," said Elysa. "From what we've seen of Tartarus, it should be monitoring us right now, and readying a battalion of Cythera to wipe us out for good."
"It didn't get to be one and a half billion years old through stupidity," mused Othar'a. "It must have some trick up its sleeve."
They reached the junction, a spherical room with a slightly transparent panel on one side.
Abruptly it lit up.
YOU CANNOT SUCCEED IN YOUR ATTEMPT TO DESTROY THIS FACILITY
"We can give it a damn good try," snarled Othar'a. "You have taken something from all of us, and we will fight you until our dying breath if we must."
YOUR ACTIONS ARE NOT LOGICAL. SURELY SURVIVAL IS A PRIORITY?
Elysa snorted. "Suvival?" she snarled. "I've seen firsthand what you do to those who don't fit in with your schemes. You don't like 'rogue elements'. You'd wipe us out at the first opportunity."
I HAVE BEEN FORCED INTO HOSTILE ACTIVITY BY YOUR ACTIONS. RETURN TO THE TELEPORTER AREA AND YOU WILL BE RETURNED TO A SAFE LOCATION
>Safe?> snarled Spiketail. >Nowhere is safe on this planet.>
To her surprise, Tartarus picked up the telepathy. THE MORE LETHAL SPECIES ARE UNDER MY CONTROL. SUITABLE COMMANDS WILL RENDER YOUR EXISTENCES MORE COMFORTABLE
"Anyone would think you were scared," commented Elysa.
YOUR REFUSAL HAS BEEN ACKNOWLEDGED. WITHDRAWING ALL CYTHERA
IF YOU INTEND TO CAUSE ME ANY DAMAGE, YOU HAVE AN OBSTACLE TO CROSS FIRST
The screen darkened.
Abruptly the Aliens and Elysa winced as the strange feeling from the 'hive' doubled in strength.
Lights flickered off, and Tyrion swore. "Anyone have a light?"
Elysa switched on the torch on her belt, and tossed another to her brother. "Lucky one of us thought of everything."
>What the hell is sending out that signal?> snarled Spiketail. >I thought it might be Tartarus itself for a while, but now I don't think it is.>
(Blame us for that.)
They spun, searching for the source of telepathy. Mocking laughter echoed through their heads.
(You'll see us soon enough. Come closer, my pretties…)
(We've been waiting to prove ourselves for so long…)
The voices mounted up, building into one universal, sibilant hiss that resonated in their minds.
>What are you?> challenged Spiketail.
They stopped, and then the laughter came again. (As I said, you'll see us soon enough. Consider it a reunion of sorts…)
>What are you talking about?>
Again the apparitions laughed. (You'll see… soon, everything will become clear…)
The voices faded, and they slowly recovered.
"I have a very bad feeling about this," said Othar'a. "Whatever those things were, there were more of them than us. And say what you like, when they spoke it felt like one of you speaking. Alien."
>Reunion,> said Spiketail. >What on earth has Tartarus been playing at?>
"Only one way to find out," said Elysa grimly. "Come on."
They walked through the dark corridors, finding no signs of life anywhere.
And then they entered an amphitheatre.
The room was tall, and filled with narrow ledges along the walls. At the far end was a gently glowing portal, with lit tan corridors just visible.
"That must be where we have to go," said Tyrion, rushing forwards.
He stopped as a silhouette appeared in the doorway. He flicked the torch over it, and gasped.
It was as though someone had blended human features with Xenomorph, Yautja, and something else. The skull was fairly human, but the jaws and nose had combined and jutted forward. Long fangs were visible inside the maw, and short Yautja mandibles lay alongside the mouth.
The creature was lanky, with spindly Alien limbs tipped with long claws. The body itself was viciously ridged, a trait that continued to the long, winding tail that ended in a barbed stinger that was far more dangerous-looking than a standard Xeno one.
Eyes remained in the forehead, but the eye sockets overshadowed them so that only narrow slits could be seen. Very dark green skin all over completed the assembly.
(You see? A reunion!) The crossbreed laughed. (Let me answer the question bubbling through your minds. It's only polite. We are the Asphodel's legacy. The very lab used to create the retrovirus that changed your little friend also spawned the retrovirus that created… us. The Hybrids. The best of both worlds, plus a few… extras. And to answer your second question… don't you recognise me, Othar'a?)
Othar'a stared at the apparition. "It can't be. Ery'lors'e cha? You died during the attack on the ship, surely."
(Not died, just… appropriated by the Sentinel.)
"Then you will help us! You can see what Tartarus has done –"(No.)
The ex-Predator smiled as he repeated the answer. (No. We are part of Tartarus now. We serve the Sentinel in every way. Including your deaths. Enough chatter.)
With that, slithering movement sounded from all around them, resolving itself into a total of six Hybrids. There were variations between them, perhaps based on who (or what) they had been originally; some had mandibles, others had rope-like substance trailing from their heads in a mockery of hair.
(One each,) said Ery'lors'e cha. (Pick whoever you like the look of most…)
Silently, the Hybrids lined up. And without warning, charged.
Elysa was the first to strike, planting three plasma shots into the torso of the Hybrid attacking her. It hissed, and fell backwards. Even as she gave a yell of triumph, it leapt to its feet and renewed the attack.
Again she shot it down, and again it recovered miraculously.
Spiketail was the second to make contact, pouncing on the smallest Hybrid that had chosen to attack her. They grappled, claws slicing, before falling apart, ready for the next round. The Hybrid had taken the worst of it, but to Spiketail's horror, even as she watched the wounds fused together.
(Yes, little drone,) the Hybrid hissed. (Hurt me as much as you like and I'll always stand back up…)
>Nice trick,> she replied, injecting as much scorn as possible into her voice. >It'll just take me longer to kill you, that's all.>
Lips drew back from fangs in a hideous mockery of a human smile. (You wouldn't hurt your old friend Artemis Gearing, would you?)
Othar'a spun the combistick, trying to hold off Ery'lors'e cha's vicious attacks. He paused for a moment.
(How many times, Othar'a cha?) he asked with a mocking impression of the Elder. (Blocking like that may be effective against another Yautja, but will spell doom against something with more than one weapon!) He smiled. (Remember that, Othar'a? You'll learn the truth of it today.) He lunged, claws slashing and tail snapping forwards. Othar'a leapt sideways, and planted the combistick in the Hybrid's stomach before wrenching it out.
The wound simply fused together, and the Hybrid growled appreciatively. (Good, a challenge…)
Elysa swore silently as the Hybrid continued to advance, mandibles flashing and claws flexing. (That hurt,) it snarled. (Your death will be equally painful.)
"I don't think so," she shot back, firing another shot. A clawed hand snapped up, taking the blast and virtually melting before the regenerative abilities kicked in. It winced, but gave no other reaction.
Elysa did a quick recount of the last few seconds. Seven shots fired in about fifteen seconds. Not good, considering the pistol's ammo capacity and recharge rate.
She snapped off the last three shots, dropped the pistol and snatched for the pulse rifle that had lain dormant at her side for some time. As she looked up, she realised the Hybrid was writhing in pain, clutching its face.
She hesitated. The reaction hadn't been this extreme before.
The claws withdrew, to reveal a horrific mess of tortured and twisted flesh and bone. It slowly crumpled back to its proper appearance, but there was no doubt about it: it had taken longer to regenerate the facial damage than anything else.
Why?
Spiketail stared at the Hybrid facing her. Battle raged all around them, but that was suddenly unimportant. >You can't be,> she said. >Artemis died on the Asphodel.>
(The Sentinel saved me,) it replied. (I do not know why. I lost everything on that wreck, and the Sentinel restored me. I now serve it in every way.)
The repetition of Ery'lors'e's words struck a chord in Spiketail's mind, but she ignored it. >How?>
The Hybrid gave her a sly look. (You want to know if any others survived. I won't give you the pleasure of knowing. It will torment you in your final moments.) On the last word, it pounced.
Spiketail was caught by surprise by the attack, but recovered quickly. Claws slashed and teeth ripped, and again the combatants fell apart. The drone had learned her mistake, though, it attacked again, not giving the Hybrid time to recover.
Artemis yowled, and fought back viciously, giving as good as she took. Acid sprayed from wounds on both Hybrid and Xenomorph, and smoke rose in columns from the floor around them.
Othar'a was only vaguely aware of the battle around her – she had to focus on the hulking silhouette of Ery'lors'e completely to avoid the lethal blows he rained down. She had long given up on attacking properly, reduced to a bewildered defence. She had fought against Yautja that knew how she thought before, and against Kainde Amedha that had the strength and speed to inflict serious damage quickly, but the Hybrid combined the two assets.
The creature paused. (You're losing, Othar'a. Why not give up and let me finish it quickly? Stop this slow, torturous struggle?)
"If you can even suggest that, you have lost every shred of Yautja!" she replied, taking advantage of the lull to make a vicious swipe with the combistick. The Hybrid sidestepped the blow easily.
(You see? You tire. It slows you. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you that that is fatal.)
With unbelievable swiftness, the monster slashed forwards. Claws ripped through the armour and found vulnerable flesh. Othar'a roared, and swung the combistick violently, but the damage was done. Green blood oozed from the wound, and waves of pain and fatigue washed over her.
Fury welled up. She had fought worse than this mixed-up creature, and suffered worse injuries. She had taken down a Queen with this weapon!
All regard for personal safety was lost, and she lunged, slicing and thrusting like a mad thing. For the first time, Ery'lors'e lost some of his/its complete confidence, and was put on the defensive.
Elysa looked at the Hybrid, wondering how she could take advantage of this new-found weakness. The plasma pistol had slowed it down. Maybe something stronger…
She fumbled with her ammo belt. "So what's it like being a Hybrid?" she asked, playing for time.
It paused. (Powerful,) it mused. (The ability to regenerate any injury instantly gives such freedom… and we have the strength to do what we like.) The far away look in its eyes vanished, replaced by hatred. (All my kin have tasted blood today, and I have not,) it snarled angrily. (Now I intend to change that.)
"That's nice," Elysa smirked, and fired the grenade launcher.
As though in slow motion, the little cylinder spun end over end towards the Hybrid. It hit…
Compressed…
Time snapped back, and the grenade exploded, taking the Hybrid's head with it. The body crumpled one part at a time, and fell to the floor.
Elysa watched with baited breath. If it regenerated from that…
Flesh flowed out from the cauterised neck, and blood dripped onto the floor. The regeneration slowed, but a rough outline of the head appeared.
It stopped, and the Hybrid fell still.
Elysa gave a yell of triumph, and spun to find her next target. "The HEADS!" she screamed. "They can't regenerate them quick enough!"
Othar'a heard the words, and the switch of attention nearly cost her her life. The Hybrid lunged, trying to take advantage of the gap, and she dived backwards, slashing down. Ery'lors'e recoiled, hissing.
She leapt to her feet, and the Hybrid pounced at the same moment. They collided, and the combistick was knocked from her grasp. They fell to the floor, with the Hybrid on top of her.
(Now, Othar'a cha, you die,) the ex-Yautja said softly. It opened its jaws, and leaned forwards to rip her throat out.
"I don't think so, you traitorous little…" With a monumental effort, she levered an arm free of the creature's grip, and snatched its neck.
It hissed in irritation, and then realisation came. She saw fear in those slitted eyes…
And then the wristblade snapped out, tearing Ery'lors'e cha's head from the neck. Acid splashed, and she rolled to avoid the worst of it.
Elysa spotted Tyrion, who was in trouble. He'd been using his speargun to very effectively nail his attacker to the wall, but it had managed to free itself each time, and his last spear was gone.
She fired a second grenade. The months of surviving the dangers of Hades paid off, and the explosive impacted on the Hybrid's skull. It crumpled, tried unsuccessfully to regenerate the damage, and came to a shuddering halt.
Elysa spun to see Shadow ram his opponent into the wall, and with the brief respite that gave, killed it.
Kal'Arak'e was standing over the corpse of the Hybrid he had faced, bleeding badly but looking intact apart from that.
There was only one Hybrid left, and it was locked in combat with Spiketail.
The loss of its comrades had hit the thing that had once been Artemis badly; it seemed to be slower, and the attacks were half-hearted. The eyes kept darting towards the doorway to the rest of the complex.
Spiketail saw her opening, and slashed at the skull. A top section was sliced clean off, and the Hybrid slammed into a wall out of her reach.
Something suddenly changed.
As Spiketail advanced, the damage regenerated itself, but the creature made no move to get up.
The drone reached forward to make the death blow.
(No!)
She hesitated.
The Hybrid reached towards the grisly, hissing mess that had been part of its skull before, and plucked something from it. Flesh dripped off it, to reveal a shiny, metallic cylinder.
(You freed me,) it said quietly. (This is the chip that the Sentinel used to control me.)
>Artemis?> said Spiketail.
(I think it's really me this time,) the Hybrid said sadly. (You have given me my freedom. A pity I will not live to enjoy it.)
Artemis tried to raise herself up, and abruptly convulsed. (It's begun already,) she said bitterly. (Trust the Sentinel to not leave anything to chance. I have a second implant that injects deadly venom into me if I lose the controlling one.) The half-breed looked up at the six surrounding her. (My thanks for giving me the chance to see the world without all that filth in my mind.) The convulsion came again, more strongly this time. She hissed, and blood welled up from her mouth.
>What about your regenerative abilities?> said Shadow, puzzled.
(This bypasses them. I have seconds to live. Spiketail…)
>Yes?>
Artemis crumpled to the ground. (I never answered your question. There was another saved… from the Asphodel… and I think you know who it is…) The light in the Hybrid's eyes died, and the eyelids flickered shut.
With that, the oppressive influence on the minds of Elysa and the Xenos vanished.
Everyone was silent.
"That's one more black mark on Tartarus' reputation, then," said Elysa.