Chapter 5: When nothing's right just close your eyes close your eyes and you're gone
"D'ya remember the first time you saw a 'Spur?"
"Still have nightmares about it."
"... Same."
- Gaelin-4 and Therin Vai, three weeks after the Rupture of Luna
"Control, this is the Bandwagon, we're closing in. Over."
"I read you, Bandwagon." Dunraven-9's hands flew over the Ketch's many controls. Some of the plating on his hands had fallen away, revealing the wires and mechanisms beneath. Only his joint-guards and fingertips remained. Norovoi idly wondered how bad the rest of his body was, hidden away beneath his work clothes. Exo-parts were in short supply. Gaelin was fine, he had Clip, but their pilot... "Do you have a visual? Over."
"Affirmative. We're almost... Oh my god."
"Bandwagon?"
"Uh, Control, there's..." The radio fizzled into brief silence. "The Persephone IX is scuttled. Something hit it, hard. Class-five-two-AX City-built frigate, bearing Dead Orbit colours. No signs of battle. No soulfire signatures. Hive... Hive didn't do this. Over."
"Damage report? Over."
"Uppermost decks are shot. Starboard thrusters are out. Impact, looks like."
"Debris?"
"Maybe," Therin dubiously replied.
"It's a common danger here," Dunraven murmured. His optics were trained on the sensors; there were plenty of ice chunks and small rocks floating around Arrokoth. The Ketch was taking shelter in the weak orbit of the malformed asteroid, just in case something else came to investigate. The Bandwagon and the Persephone were on the other side of the rocky body, a touch further out. "They aren't answering our hails, over. Any luck on your end?"
"Negative. Bridge is intact, and the communications array is obviously still functional, but... yeah, nothing. What procedure are we following? Over."
Grayris shuffled closer to the radio. She'd come back quickly enough, after having grabbed her armour. Geared for war, that one. "Potentially danger-close." She paused. "Are you certain you want to investigate?"
"I'm sure," Therin replied. "Right, the... uh, portside docking-port is operational. No debris nearby. We'll clear the hull out, check for hostiles, then we can bring the Ketch around."
"Think they'll appreciate that?" someone else asked over the comms. Gaelin-4.
"Well, their ride is a wreck," Therin replied, "so we're their best bet."
"'Spose. Right, Control, we're approaching the portside dock. Clip will keep the Bandwagon running, Therin and I will board the Persephone. Keep in touch."
"Report back every two minutes," Grayris ordered.
"Wilco, over and out."
"Control, this is Smudge. We're detecting elevated levels of radiation. Power's out, but auxiliary engines are running. Life-support is bust and artificial gravity is on the lowest setting. Our suits and shells are sealed. Possible reactor leak, over."
Dunraven-9 made a face - which was impressive for an Exo. Norovoi thought he was trying too hard. "Step carefully. Heading? Over. "
"Bridge first, see if we can find anyone. Failing that, we're going to download the blackbox's contents and transmit them your way. Over."
"Understood. Over and out."
"Control, we found something."
Grayris was there, hunched over the radio in an instant. "Found what?"
Smudge hesitated. "A... a body. We found a body."
Norovoi flinched. She swore under her breath, clutched at her sleeves and waited.
"Exo. It's an Exo. Uniform's Dead Orbit, but we were expecting that. Lightless, mortal. Credentials read: Arach Vlun-5. Cause of death: extensive damage to torso, deep incisions and... what's this?"
There was a tense pause.
"Radioactive waste," Smudge grimly declared. "It's... uh, this gunk is all over this guy. All... wait. These... this stuff contains some bio-organic elements. A bioweapon. Maybe."
"All this radioactivity..." Gaelin-4 sounded like he was grimacing. "This isn't natural. Not a leak. Fusion reactor can't exactly create this much dangerous waste, and for this long? Power's out - and has been a while now. Even the back-up fission reactor can't do this. This was intentio-"
"Found another body," Therin cut in. "Another Exo. And... down the hall, think I see another one. More incisions."
"Get out of there," Grayris immediately growled.
"Wait," Gaelin objected. "I'm cutting into the security feed now. There's... yeah, no heat- or bio-signatures nearby. Not here - not in the Persephone."
"Outside?" Therin guessed.
"I can't- Hey, Clip, back up and sweep around. See if you catch sight of anything."
"On it," Clip replied.
Another couple of minutes passed before the Ghost reported. "Negative, nothing. Smudge, send me- yeah, that. Right... picking up some traces of your radiation, around the breach in the upper decks and leading inside. Something tore its way in."
"And killed everyone inside," Smudge repeated, voice rising.
"Wait," Therin interrupted. "Everyone? But we've only found a couple of bodies - and they're Exos. No organics. It's City protocol that if there's a bio-hazardous breach - or what these people might have suspected to be a breach - Exominds remain behind to keep everything from going to hell. If they ran for the shelter, then maybe-"
"Therin," Smudge interjected, all of a sudden quiet.
"What?"
"These incisions are claw marks."
Norovoi's blood turned to ice. She should have- I should have voted no.
"Get out of there!" Grayris roared into the radio.
"Hive?!" Dunraven-9 fearfully guessed. "We have to-"
"It's not Hive," Norovoi breathed out, eyes wide. Grayris looked at her - she understood too.
"Star-Eater," the Baroness whispered.
"Oh fuck," Therin mumbled. "An Aphelion? You serious?"
Norovoi numbly closed in on the radio. Grayris shifted to the side to give her room. "This has all the hallmarks of one of their attacks. They... don't leave bodies."
"But the Exos-"
"Inedible, maybe. I... All recorded attacks were on Awoken or Eliknsi vessels."
"Eat crew," Grayris said with a shiver. "Desecrate Servitors. Spare only Shanks. Lightbearers, leave, now!"
A static-y hiss traveled through the comms. Norovoi only realized a moment later it was Therin breathing, heavily. "Yeah, right. 'K, uh... Smudge, give us the quickest path to the nearest airlock. Clip, keep those engines-"
"Wait," Gaelin suddenly cut in.
"Wait?!" Therin echoed deliriously. "Are you out of your mind?!"
"I found it. I'm looking at it."
"It's-"
"On security cams, in the cargo hold."
"Fantastic. We have time, then. Let's get the hell out of here!"
"No need," Gaelin replied, oddly calm. "Guys, it's... it's already dead."
Norovoi blinked.
"It's... 'dead'?" Grayris dubiously asked, deep voice still tinged with horrified panic. "Are you certain it is the beast?"
"Well, it's about as long as three Sparrows, kinda glowing blue and with six... nah, seven, eight, nine- no, eight legs. That's a tail. No that's... four legs, one tail with three endings. And those are dorsal horns."
"How do you know it's dead?" From the noise clicking through the radio, Norovoi was under the impression Therin was walking over to Gaelin.
"Because it's got a giant fucking hole in its head. C'mere, look at this. Dead as a fucking dodo."
"Dead as a... a what?"
"Hell if I know. Just... look!"
Norovoi glanced around. Dunraven glanced right back, confused and nervous in equal parts. Grayris just... was back to her guarded, worried self - all four eyes trained on the frontal viewport, attention on the Dead Orbit wreckage they simply couldn't see.
"Something hit it. High-calibre firearm, maybe. Something strong enough to punch right through. Someone could still be alive. Control, uh… permission to continue?" Gaelin requested.
Grayris hesitated. "Be... careful. Stay away from the hold."
"For now," the Exo nonchalantly responded.
Grayris stepped away and exhaled - heavily. "For now," she begrudgingly agreed. Her inner pair of eyes were half-lidded with an expression Norovoi was fast coming to recognize as unhappily bewildered.
"Found it," Gaelin announced. "Right, plugging in. Clip? Give me a translation?"
"Transmit me the files."
"On it."
Norovoi waited and waited, impatient and afraid. Her heart was racing, her lungs were gasping and her nerves were on fire. The fight-or-flight instinct was battling with her resolve to stay the fuck still and hear Gaelin out. Motion by her leg momentarily caught her off-guard, but it was just Castus - himself whining nervously, all too attuned to the mood that had taken the bridge hostage.
"Here it is," Gaelin said at last. "Date: Seventieth cycle of the first... What the hell is this?"
"Dead Orbit calender," Clip replied. The Ghost sounded distracted. "They don't like to date things the way we do."
"You're telling me. Okay, date notwithstanding... how long ago was this?"
"Two, three weeks."
"Two, three weeks ago, 'k. That's the date, then." Gaelin sighed. "Index, index, index... There we are. Right... no, not that, not that. That's useless. Ah. There. I've got five recent entries in that timeframe - uploaded manually, anyways. Beginning with... an astro-chart, right. The Persephone docked at Pluto to resupply, took to the Kuiper Belt proper and... noted some abnormal movements of stellar bodies. They... ah. Well. Sighted Hive traffic, mostly Tombships and Tombcarriers, coming in and out - likely to replenish the broods further in-system. Coming from... suspected orbital stations, likely warmoons. Oh shit... there are warmoons ahead."
"How many?" Grayris quickly asked. "What are their locations?"
"I don't know, and all this is giving me is a general direction. A big general direction. Doesn't look like it was just one either. Must be dotted around the entire system... actually caging us in... trapping us like rats... I'm sending the files your way, Control. Add them to the maps, may-... -ey can hel-... zzzzsssst-"
"Gaelin," Grayris said urgently. "Lightbearer, can you read? We are losing you. Can you read? What is-"
"Somethig's interfering. We're receiving a second signal," Dunraven cut in, voice grace. "Three decks just below, near... near the armoury, if these City-age schematics are reliable. Weak. Unorthodox transmission tech; I don't... ah. Right. Exo. Some kind of Black Armoury modification."
"Black Armoury?" Norovoi heard herself ask. "That's..."
"Forge-work?" Grayris straightened up momentarily - then hunched back over the communications terminal. "Lightbearers, do you read?"
Nothing answered them. Well, apart from hissing static.
"We are detecting a Black Forge signal near the armoury. We..." Grayris paused. "Investigate if willing, but be cautious. If not, retreat to the Bandwagon and return to us. Do not risk yourselves."
"Could be wounded," Dunraven pointed out. "Or worse."
Grayris gestured to Norovoi without looking. "Fetch Klyfiks and prepare to meet your kin in the hangar."
"On it," Norovoi quietly replied, ducking her head and retreating to the elevator at the rear of the bridge.
"I do not know how to fix Exo-humans," Klyfiks said, twitching. He startled as Norovoi thrust a toolbox into his arms and grasped it on instinct.
"I know a little," Vynriis assured him. "I will help you."
"Why will you not do it yourself?"
"Your hands do not shake, clever one."
Klyfiks complained some more, but Norovoi had tuned out by then. Their bickering did not interest her in slightest; only the outside, the stars and emptiness and the shadow of Arrokoth did, visible through the open - though still shielded - hangar bay. She watched and waited and wondered - what was taking them so long? Was this a trap? Were they going to bring supplies back with them? Information?
Were there really warmoons ahead? Were the Hive truly besieging the system?
Could they find a path out of Sol's howling madness?
Where was Azirim?
Norovoi frowned; actually, the last query had some merit - where the hell was he? She brought her radio online and asked, "Anyone got a ping on Azirim's location?"
There was a looong pause, and then... "Who?"
"The dragon," she told Dunraven, only managing to bleed the worst of her exasperation out of her voice. "Where's the dragon?"
"He's... uh. Who's got the tracker?"
"Gael-" Norovoi swore. "Gaelin does."
"He didn't leave it behind?"
"I don't know!"
"Just... shit, still can't raise them. I'll send the Senator a message; maybe she can find it."
Here's hoping, Norovoi thought, pinching shut the two-way transmission without any ceremony. She didn't need him rattling in her ear. If Otzot responded, she'd find a way to pass the response on - like using Grayris. Grayris she never ignored. Message-wise, in any case.
But with how things had been going, lately...
No. Best not to think on that.
"Here they come," Vynriis said suddenly, tearing Norovoi out of her grim reverie. She glanced towards the opening in the Ketch's belly and - yes, some stars were blinking out, something was moving out there, something with dimmed lights arrayed across its short wings, across its nose and under its belly. A ship. The Bandwagon.
With a sigh Norovoi reconnected to the bridge. "Control, the Bandwagon is approaching. What should we expect?"
"Still not reading them..." Dunraven murmured. "Uh... prep for injured Exo, I suppose. And maybe securing extra cargo, if they thought to grab something useful. More parts, maybe. Could use some myse-"
"Let's keep this line clear," Norovoi firmly said.
"Ah... understood. Shutting up."
Norovoi grimaced; yes, but for how long? She stepped forward with Vynriis and Klyfiks to convene with the Hunters as the jumpship rose up into the hanger. Her eyes roved over the ship's form - no apparent damage, paint scratched up but that was old news. Few marks here and there, probably from stray scrap drifting from the wrecked Persephone. The windshield de-polarized; Gaelin and Therin were just beyond, looking no worse for wear physically speaking and otherwise grimly focused, but-
There was a bump under one of the Bandwagon's stumpy thruster-winglets. Flat, scarcely noticeable, Norovoi wouldn't have known if it was even there if not for a faint shred of starlight reflecting off the uneven metallic surface - like some sort of spindly contraption folded up.
Her eyes widened.
No.
"No, no!" Norovoi shouted, both into her radio and in vain towards the jumpship's occupants, waving towards them, gesturing for them to go away, get away, get out of the Skiff. Therin, she saw, glanced at her through the cleared windshield and stalled - ship hovering in place. "Dunraven, close the blast doors, close the-"
No, wait, too late, they were mostly inside and the little bump was starting to unfold. It blossomed out like some sort of gunmetal flower, petals shaped like thin, skeletal fingers - fingers which became limbs, all save for the fan-like frill cresting its horrifying, horrifying head.
"'Spur!" Norovoi yelled, stumbling back - oh no, oh no, oh no.
The three red optics found her, singled her out, and just like that the entire thing unwound itself from the jumpship's hull and leapt away - claws sinking in the thruster behind it, tearing the engine clean off the jumpship's side. The Bandwagon twirled about, momentum entirely shot, and it slammed down on its back onto the hanger floor to the side with a mighty crunch. It slid some distance, its still-operational thruster spitting fiery sparks.
Klyfiks cried out and Vynriis fell back - and the combination of noise and motion stole away the thing's attention. It had landed ably enough, apparently finished with the Bandwagon and all within, and stood up to its full height - eight, nine, ten feet maybe, near as tall as Grayris. Nowhere near as finely built, however; the thing had no musculature to speak of. Only pistons and levers and other mechanical parts, founded as Vex brass and redesigned with true brutality. Its Goblin-head had the three red optics classic to all its kind, with steel harpoon-tusks running just beneath. Below its spindly, though reinforced, neck was its thin, blade-ribbed torso - including a well-guarded radiolaria pack wherein three green eyes weakly leered out, like dying candles. Shards of pure black eviscerated the motionless husk within, holding it in some kind of forever-crucifix of torturous design.
The beast, the Darkspur, splayed out its limbs - long, double-jointed legs extending beneath it, the torso hunching over and bringing out its arms like skeletal wings, meat-cleaver claws twitching.
It was about to strike.
"Gods," Norovoi breathed.
The Darkspur shot towards them, fast, too fast, brutally fast. The Eliksni cried out and fled - but it was faster, it was going to-
Norovoi tugged her cannon out of its holster and unloaded the entire drum. Stasis fragments tore through the air and pummeled against the Darkspur's metal hide, embedding into the Vex-ium with mean relish - but the 'Spur didn't care. Just switched targets, just like that, and settled for killing her first.
"Ah fuc-"
Norovoi twisted around - but a hand tipped with flesh-rending claws looped around her, tore through her sleeve and bicep both like hot knives through butter and embedded in the bone. She would have screamed - if the nightmare-beast hadn't bodily lifted her up and tossed her aside, hard, almost ripping her entire arm right from its socket. Norovoi slammed against the floor, rolled some and staggered up to run some more. Adrenaline kept the worst of the pain at bay, kept her moving, kept her thinking, and she ran. Right for the nearest spot of cover - her own scrapped Crypt Hammer.
Pleasepleaseplease, she mentally begged, running toward it, and yes, the rear ramp was open, left open, left for others to make use of in the event she wasn't around anymore - and she ran, ran, ran, and finally dove through it. The entire ship shook as the 'Spur crashed against it. Norovoi slammed a fist - the only one she could use, what with the other limply hanging by her side - against the airlock controls. The doors snapped shut.
Something pounded against it, hard. A corner dented, almost crumpled - and the creature, the thing beyond, it shrieked, it roared.
It was going to break through.
She only had seconds to spare.
Norovoi stumbled through the jumpship, right to the cockpit and - yes, he'd done it, he hadn't lied, Azirim had actually opened it! Norovoi grabbed the first thing she could-
And something audibly tore through the airlock door behind her, metal shredding apart. She scarcely managed to crane her neck around when the offending limb shot through the sudden gap spewing hangar-light and snatched at her leg. Claws, razor-sharp, closed around the area above her left ankle and pulled. Norovoi fell, slammed her nose and forehead against the floor, painfully twisted around in the thing's grip and closed her finger on her rifle's trigger.
The entire door blew away with a single fiery blast - tugging the monster's arm away with it, splashing blood, her blood, in its wake. She didn't want to even think about how bad her leg was, or her arm. Norovoi just waited for the Darkspur to toss the glowing metal scrap out of its way before firing again - point blank, hitting it dead centre. It staggered back, fire and smoke billowing over its frame, and fell over as the second fusion round smacked into it. It tried to get up, tried to get back at her, but Norovoi hammered it with two more Solar torpedoes. The final round actually managed to crack open its milk-pack, snap the Dark thorns picketed within and dislodge the dessicated Worm corpse they'd been stringing up.
The Darkspur fell to its knees, grasped at its core and died glaring at her - all three optics fading to black, promising even unto death nothing short of bloody murder.
Norovoi sighed shakily. She stared. It...
It was dead.
It was actually dead...
The Crypt Hammer rocked around her. Norovoi scarcely had a moment to move as the glass of the cockpit's viewport shattered behind her and another pair of rending talons tore through the flooring where she'd only just been lying prone. She half-hobbled, half-crawled towards the gaping exit, her wounded leg utterly incapable of taking any weight, and stumbled and fell out on the hangar floor. She turned around, aimed her fusion rifle up-
But a javelin pierced through her shoulder and impaled her against the ground. Norovoi cried out; near hysterical with terror and pain, no, no more, not them.
The shooter, the other 'Spur, was perched up on the tail-end of her jumpship, sat like some sort of gangly wolf. One of its harpoon-tusks was still there, but the other holster was empty - and slowly, slowly, regenerating the metal implement.
No.
Not them.
Please not them.
Norovoi angled her fusion rifle - a blocky, short-barreled thing with some measure of inbuilt tracking - in the Darkspur's direction and held down the trigger.
Nothing fired.
Oh right, five rounds already fired.
...
Shit.
The Darkspur must have noted the same, because it rose up onto its hind legs and lifted up its head to let loose a digital howl. The sound began as hissing static, steadily winding up to a shrill banshee-scream.
No. Nonono, no, they can't, can't bring others here, NO!
Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Mayhaps because of the slivers of bluish-transparent crystals tearing across its thin carapace, forcing it to lift its gangly arms to guard its optics. The crystals burst and shattered against its hide, spreading their malign effect-
And the bearer of the Stasis leap at the monster just rendered too slow to stop her. Grayris crashed against the Darkspur, catching it against her armoured shoulder and tackling it off the jumpship onto the hangar floor to Norovoi's right. She didn't let up even then; her fists rained down, spreading more rime, catching the unnatural thing in a slowly spreading covering of jagged Stasis. The 'Spur tried to counter attack, tried to thrust its remaining tusk into her head - but Grayris caught the implement, froze it solid and shattered it in her tightening grasp.
She clutched the Darkspur's head and did the exact same thing all over again. Just to make sure, Grayris stood up, leveled her Imperial shotgun with its chest and unloaded an entire batteries' worth into where its core assumedly was, hidden beneath the veneer of cold, cold Stasis.
Huh. Funny.
Norovoi was beginning to feel a little cold, cold herself.
Grayris twisted around, the many orange optics of her great-helm pointing in her direction - and the Baroness gave a horrified shout. One Norovoi couldn't really make out.
But why? Why would-
Oh. Yeah.
Now, that was funny.
She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to die.
AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!
