Chapter 17
Welcome, readers! Things are about to get interesting at the Ekkamm facility…
[Since I haven't mentioned it of late, I own nothing of that Marvel owns, including the X-Men and all those characters. I will never make any money from using their property in this story. Borrowing them for my own writing pleasure only.]
###
"It is perplexing when one with your intellect fails to understand a simple order."
Hercjell's back stiffened, but the face remained unmoved. "Explain."
They were on as neutral ground upon which he could corner her. The lounge was surprisingly empty for the time of day. Funny how people will vacate an area on the slightest whim. Den-neer allowed himself a mental smirk.
"Our guests."
The eyes flickered understanding, but to her credit, the Head Researcher didn't flinch. "I understood the orders concerning them quite clearly. They are not to be forced into our research programs."
Den-neer made a show of moving lazily toward a cozy chair and easing down as if this were a casual and amicable interlude. The situation was far from it. "That is one interpretation. Yours. It is wrong. The correct elucidation is they are not to be involved with any research."
Hercjell remained standing, examining him carefully; plotting her next move. Her meager mental shields were far too easy to step through. Almost sad the advantage he had over her. Of course, she hadn't a clue the extent of his abilities.
"When someone comes to me with a request that I am in a unique position to fulfill, who am I to deny the petitioner?"
He smiled for effect. "If only your willingness to assist were benevolent. We both know it is not."
She shifted in place. "What does it harm if both parties benefit?"
Den-neer examined his fingers intently. "Perhaps that is the case in the first bargain, but not in the second. The Alcab is free to make her own decisions. The Eshaaru…" He shook his head slowly and turned a hand over, studying it carefully. It was many heartbeats before he continued. "These hands are the avatars of Prime Director Phai. They are capable of many things, several being extremely unpleasant. She would be quite displeased to learn that you were attempting to coerce someone under her protection."
With a mental peek, he knew she winced internally. Good.
"The offer could benefit everyone. I've heard the risks of the procedure the Prime Director is attempting to teach. If I can establish a mental link between parent and child, then that risk could be mitigated, not to mention how valuable Ettwanae could be to my assignment."
Den-neer was amazed all over again at the arrogance and audacity of the woman. He'd not bother with detailed explanations. She had skirted a direct order and that could not be tolerated.
"That you do not comprehend your ignorance and how unqualified you are to make such judgments is beyond my comprehension." Den-neer rose slowly, with malevolence; ice-blue eyes boring into Hercjell's. "Understand this, Hercjell al'Verta. You have vital work to finish. That is your sole focus. Complete it. If you chose again to disobey orders, I may not kill you until your work is done, but rest assured, I will kill you."
He sensed her internal shiver, but outwardly, she was as stone. He admired that. Likely the only characteristic he ever would.
When he exited the lounge, her silent, scathing expletives following.
###
High-level thinking dropped away. Fear. Alert! In a whirl of sensory bombardment, sound and scent intensified. Hushed, fearful noises. Rustles of movement. Crouch. Prepare. It snapped narrowed eyes onto the territorial intruders scrambling to get away. Chase?
No. His mate remained. Her scent filled him.
The higher brain attempted to regain control. Warren clung to lucidity, but it was sliding through his mental fingers. Instinctual drives clawed for control. The world was stuttering between opposing wills – feral and civilized – flashing back and forth like wildly spinning kaleidoscope.
Feral self took in a deep inhale, drawing her smell into nostrils. She was ready. They were alone. It shuddered from need.
Warren was losing the battle of wills, and it scared him shitless. Smells, sounds, basal motives were joining forces to overwhelm.
"No!" he managed, but even the ability to speak was nearly gone.
"Warren! Please, stay with me! Listen to my voice. I'm right here."
He smelled her fear. It threw him – danger?! Where? Eyes darted back and forth to identify the threat.
'Let go. Kill,' something murmured enticingly.
'Kill?!' Panic. Lucidity tried to hang on…identify the source of the command. 'Different.' A sense of intelligence accompanied the 'let go' command. 'Not feral, but what?'
Suddenly, a painful shock snapped his body taut, and all went black.
###
White and gold filled blurry vision.
"Oh, my poor soulbound."
Warren blinked. Soft caresses traced across his forehead followed by the very distinctive feel of a tender kiss on his brow. He tried to speak, but nothing happened. Warren squeezed eyes shut; then reopened them. It helped and the white and gold became Ettwanae's hair and white wings. His head was lying on her lap, and she was curled over him.
"You're okay, Warren. Volu stopped the episode. You just need a few minutes to recover."
'Episode?'
She answered his unspoken question as she stroked his hair. "You had a feral incident, but we stopped it quickly. Nothing happened. Everyone's okay."
When he closed his eyes again, it wasn't to clear his vision. 'God, not again. What's happening to me?' Fear tightened his chest. What if next time they couldn't stop it? What if he stayed in a feral state?
"You're fine, Warren. Don't be afraid."
Vague recollection of something else during the episode tugged…another voice? He couldn't be sure. Like a fading dream slipping from your grasp, details wouldn't congeal.
"I- I'm sorry," he got out, but more than that was too difficult. That pushed worry deeper. He wanted to get up, but she gently kept him down.
"Rest a bit longer. I'm here. You're safe. I'll always be here. Everything will be okay."
Her cooings calmed his troubled mind. In her arms, Warren allowed himself to relax and float in her tender reassurances, even as he believed they were self-delusional.
###
Ettwanae stood tall with arms crossed, hoping to look imposing. She had waited patiently until the end of their session to confront the woman.
"Do you have it?" she demanded.
"It will be returned," Phai replied, cutting to the chase. "Her amulet is in a secure location."
"Where?" She was tired and not in the mood for evasiveness.
"Where the Eilu hopefully won't find it."
Ettwanae snorted. "I want it."
"It will be returned to your mother when she wakens."
The Shozen then had the audacity to turn away and move toward a doorway at her distant location. Blood boiled. If Phai hadn't been only an avatar, Ettwanae would have snagged her arm and forced the woman to face her.
"That's not your decision! It's not your property!"
The Shozen stopped just short of the exit, and did not bother turning around as she answered.
"Neither is it yours. However, it is my responsibility to guard it as one of the keys. The amulet will be returned when I feel it safe to do so."
And with that, the woman winked out of holo existence as she passed through the doorway.
"Mudpucker!" Ettwanae swore at the empty room with a snap of wings. Even that exceedingly derogatory term was inadequate.
###
Warren was partaking in one of Ettwanae and Den-neer's mediation sessions. Begrudgingly, he admitted Phai was right – getting back into the habit would do him a world of good, especially after the disturbing feral episode. As bonus, it provided a tangible means of supporting Ettwanae in her Ura'maalei training.
Thus, Warren found himself in the facility garden, sitting crossed-legged on short but soft turf. It was their second session that day as Ettwanae's mood was a runaway rollercoaster. Den-neer's lulling voice coached them down through tensions and busy consciousness to a quieter level more quickly than Warren believed possible given the dark cloud following Ettwanae around.
Undercurrents of inner strain he couldn't identify also seemed to be coming to a head. It had increased the past couple days; at times feeling like an over-expanded balloon that needed to burst.
With the warmth of Ekkamm's sun on his back and wings and gentle whispers of alien nature filling the mid-afternoon air, he quickly slipped into a meditative state. Awareness of surroundings did not lessen. In fact, each call of nature and touch of wind was intensified, but not harshly – they soothed and melted built-up stress. He focused on slow, rhythmic breathing, the penetrating warmth of sunlight, gentle caresses of soft breezes, and the lulling murmurs of wildlife as he descended. Reaching that perfect mental state, he floated upon a calm sea of inner energy. Peace. Contentment.
Then a ripple. It barely caught his attention. A gentle lapping against his consciousness. Nature's whispers echoed. He refocused. The surface of his inner sea smoothed in response.
Another ripple – stronger. A single, distant cry of a wild thing took on urgency. With the third ripple, he bobbed on his private sea of tranquility. Something was troubled.
Perhaps rising up a level and then coming back down would quiet whatever part of his mind was uneasy. But when he tried, he was tethered; unable to ascend. Wild cries of the animal grew louder and more insistent. Ripples were becoming small waves. Warren tried again, but the tether held. Concern crept in.
The psychic sea began to churn, gently at first, then with greater agitation. A high-pitched shriek cut through his mind. The feral message was clear – danger!
He yanked hard against whatever anchored him, but it held fast. Panic began to swell. 'What's happening?!'
Without warning, the waters rose up all around – dark, oily, thick. A wall of black quickly surrounded him, and the opening above was closing. It wanted to swamp him! In a blink of an eye, Human form gave way to feathers, claws, and blind instinct. As darkness closed in, the shrill shriek of panic blended with rage was his own.
###
The sound that sliced through the quiet garden shattered meditative states instantly. Ettwanae tumbled out of her yoga-like pose and glanced around wildly for the source. First to Den-neer, as he sat in front of her. Not him. Their eyes locked simultaneously on Warren who was off to their side.
What Ettwanae saw drove panic to her soul.
###
Volu and Bae were sitting side by side in the large underground hangar. She could not get enough of Bae since mending their relationship days earlier. While her mother was unable fill the gap in Volu's memory, she was a wealth of other information. And the younger Eshaar'ne basked in the simple joy of speaking and being with another of her kind. An emptiness was being filled at long last.
She was happier than she could remember feeling, aside from the day of Ettwanae's summons. Her Other was safe and well. They had found T'Qilla, and although her condition was tenuous, they had been reunited. And Volu had learned Bae was her mother and not the repugnant enemy she had believed. In many ways, she wished they could spend endless time in their unlikely refuge and relish being together.
However, worry lurked. Saving T'Qilla was a major risk, but unless Ettwanae tried, the young woman would never forgive herself. Volu understood what guilt can do. The flashes of suppressed memories she experienced at Ita had formed a harsh picture of helplessness to save a loved one as they died before you. She would not be party to Ettwanae experiencing that horror and its devastating culpability. And so, although she feared for her Other, she would support the decision while ensuring everything possible would be done to properly prepare the Esha'Aru.
The question she was about to pose about Bae's past was cut off by a terrified mental cry.
/ Volu! /
She jumped into the limit airspace of the hangar, ready to rip the place apart to get to her Other.
/ My Poda, are you in danger?! /
/ Please, it's Warren – goddess! He's…he's turning blue! And he won't wake up! /
###
He felt split in two – wild, instinctual, and intent on killing his attacker; the other half, calm, detached, but prepared to do mental battle. Neither side understood what was happening, but his thinking side believed it to be psychic assault.
On whatever meditative plane he was held, it was like no other he could recall reaching. As the swells of blue-black water poised to crash down around, there was no more time for thinking. But what to do? He was not a mentalist like Jean or Charles.
In a blink of an eye, the animal within usurped control and sprang into action. As dark water enveloped him, wings and talons slashed out, slicing through to momentarily reveal the light beyond. A shrill cry escaped his psychic form as shreds of water became fingers to ensnare. Desperation to escape became feral rage.
The metaphysical liquid did not drench with wetness, but acted as water in other ways, making it a formidable foe. While he could not destroy the liquid monster, it had little substance in which to grab and hold. In a blur of feathers and talons, he ripped and shredded, clawed and tore the watery attacker, but could gain no ground. He wrestled with himself and finally conscious thought reasserted itself as the main player. The enemy did not seem to desire his death. Envelope and trap him? Why?
Now fighting with more than simple blind feral rage, Warren directed his attacks to above his head. Streaks of light followed rakes of metaphysical talons as the water separately. Claws tore at the water-like cocoon ferociously until…
On powerful muscles, he propelled himself through a gash, wings breaking free from the liquid fingers that attempted to bind him down. As he shot up, blue-black tendrils followed, nearly snagging ankles. Everywhere he flew, they followed no matter how hard he pumped wings. His feral side screamed its frustration and threatened to overwhelm once again, but he held it at bay.
For each black tendril he shattered with wing or claw, more took its place. The sky was beginning to darken with their numbers. Why not just expand and encompass everything – blot out the light and drown him?
Then he knew.
###
Ettwanae was wild with panic. Warren was writhing on the ground, unconscious. Another screech split the silence of the garden, but she barely noticed the shooting pain in her eardrums. The high-pitched cries she recognized from his feral episode. A recurrence of that wasn't what scared her most. Volu could deal with it. No, it was something much more horrifying. His ivory skin was slowly turning an intense blue just like in the image Volu had shown them. While Den-neer tried to hold Warren down as gently as he could to ensure he didn't harm himself, Ettwanae prayed the metal wings would not emerge. If that happened…
Volu was suddenly hovering above the small garden.
"Be watchful, Den-neer. If you see any sign of feathers turning to metal, move away quickly. An unintentional swipe of those could kill you instantly."
"Volu, this was our worst fear! Can't you do something? You brought him out of it last time!"
Den-neer's dark eyes darted to Ettwanae. "This has happened before?!"
"Yes – no...not like this," she stammered struggling to keep panic in check for Warren's sake. Another scream/screech startled her. "He had a feral episode, but he didn't turn blue. But he did tell us his hands turned blue a while back, but it went away." She took a step closer – all she wanted was to hold him.
"Ettwanae, stay away!" Volu warned sharply, and Ettwanae jumped backward.
"Goddess! What is happening? It's like he fighting someone. Stun him, Volu! Bring him back!"
"Sensors say he is in a deep meditative state despite the thrashing. This is not like last time at all. If I stun his brain now, he may never return to higher consciousness."
"If this is his version of a deep, meditative state, I would not want to see him hyper-alert!" Den-neer said as a thrashing arm broke free.
Tears of fear came. "But if we do nothing he's going to turn into that monster! Or stay feral. I'm going to lose him, Volu. We have to do something!"
Den-neer dodged as flying fist nearly caught his head. "Volu, can you use a small force shield to hold him down?"
"I can."
As Warren's movements stilled under the pressure of the shield, Den-neer released his hold and eased back. "Use your shield to get me clear if you see the wings turning to metal," the man ordered sharply.
Ettwanae wrung her hands. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going in."
"Den-neer, if Warren transforms and becomes a threat I cannot contain, I will do whatever is necessary to protect Ettwanae and myself without regard to your mental connection to him." The warning's tone left no doubts as to her meaning.
"In that case, I truly hope your force shield holds him."
With a final glance to the paled Esha'Aru, Den-neer steadied himself and dove into Archangel's mind.
###
Toying! It was enjoying the fight; otherwise, it made no sense. Question was who or what was 'It'?
Warren was running out of metaphysical airspace as blue-black tentacles continued growing in numbers. His feral side was adding all it could – darting, dashing, and slashing in a blur of motion and fury. But it was meaningless. He gained nothing on the enemy. And even in the metaphysical realm, one tires.
Blackness expanded. He was losing. Conscious thought was becoming a liability. Warren gave up control of his mental body to the feral, letting it do what it wanted – fly into a kill rage.
Floating away from the bird-like creature, he glanced down at his second construct body – a glowing version of his normal self. Looking back up, he took in the sight of his split-apart. White hawk? Eagle? Didn't matter. As he watched, feelings of blind savageness radiated from the winged being as it lost itself to blood lust. So very bizarre to witness the battle from his inside-yet-outside perspective. He had to admit, it was an impressive if not a somewhat frightening scene.
With his higher self freed from doing battle, he considered what he knew. This was almost certainly a psychic attack, but nothing like he'd ever experienced. He thought back to Xavier's training. While Warren had no real psychic abilities, their mentor had taught his students much about the sphere of the mind. Charles said that when caught within the psychic realm, there is always an escape hatch. "If there is a way in, there is a way out," the man had said. "Camouflaged perhaps, but it is there."
But where? There had to be clue – something that would reveal the way out. Rising up, he flew around the confines of limited open air. Warren searched more desperately as his feral side screeched and fought. Nothing.
As the blackness continued to solidify around them, his glowing self was quickly becoming the only source of light.
###
What greeted Den-neer when he telepathically entered Archangel's mind was shocking. Blind rage slammed into him. Animal. Bloodlust. Kill! Quickly strengthening mental barriers, the emotional bombardment eased. Was that what was attacking Archangel?
Keeping a low profile to avoid discovery, Den-neer probed carefully. He was surprised. The animalistic ball of fury was a facet of the Human, and it was defending Archangel's mental territory. Split consciousness? Unusual, but not unheard of. Den-neer had entered fragmented minds before, but often that was the result of mental dysfunction. The condition within Archangel felt different – more integrated. Yet as far as Den-neer could tell, the animal persona was acting autonomously.
Two questions needed answers…who was the intruder, and where was Archangel?
Extending himself again, he discovered another presence permeating the mental space. Heavy. Dark. Purposeful. It felt like nothing that he'd ever encountered…not true intelligence, but not mindlessness either. One thing Den-neer had no doubt about – whatever it was, the entity did not belong. Compacting his presence tightly, he set out to find the Human's higher mind while hoping to elude detection.
He dropped deeper, seeking the man's essence. The emotional landscape slowly changed from rage and maliciousness to calm desperation. Was he getting close? Slowly, a construct began to form. That was often the sign. As one nears another's core, whatever visual manifestation the person has created is revealed. Constructs are a visual-based mind's attempt to bring recognizable form to the formless.
At first, everything simply went black. A sudden slice of light broke through high above, only to seal quickly. Then another, and another, but the brief flashes of illumination revealed the cause. A winged creature battled high above – Archangel's other persona had taken shape in the construct as a blur of white motion. Two legs extended from the feathered body and ended with long and deadly talons. It was those claws that slashed viciously at the blue-black mass creating the temporary openings. Watching closely, the hooked beak almost as large as the creature's head was also clearly a weapon. Then a shriek pierced his mind and Den-neer covered his ears in reflex – a meaningless gesture in the psychic realm.
Refocusing to merge more into the construct, blue-black shapes became distinguishable from the deeper black background. They appeared fluid, not solid. As the raging creature above clawed and tore at the forms, pieces separated, some fell away, only to congeal again. Curling and twisting, the tendrils were obviously trying to ensnare the winged defender despite their inability to hold it.
Black shapes, snaking arms – it looked familiar in an abstract way. The telepath jerked. An Eilu psionic attack? But how? They were not known to be telepathic. Hybrid? Would that explain the strangeness of the dark entity? But that meant one was nearby – that their facility had been discovered!
Years of training and discipline held him from jumping to conclusions. Analyze. Confirm. First, though, connect with the Human.
Den-neer fully immersed himself into the metaphysical landscape. Risking detection, he concentrated to give form to his consciousness, tapping into Archangel's own visual impressions, hoping the man would accept the intrusion more readily if he could 'see' him. As his avatar took shape, the telepath found that he was standing on a boiling, blue-black sea. He preferred more solid footing and created a small pool of calm.
Reaching and extending cautiously, he sought what he'd come for. Archangel's presence grew stronger with each passing second. Then a brief brush against something else.
'What is this?'
Probing with extreme prudence, mental senses detected a small psionic pod – heavily shielded. As he touched it gingerly, the object moved away, but he picked up sensations from the brief contact. It had some of the same feelings as when he touched the mind of the unborn.
Before he could contemplate further, a distant bright spot grabbed Den-neer's attention. It was more yellow and enduring than the brief slashes of light created by the winged defender as it sliced the blackness. Archangel. A golden version of himself, circling low in the black distance, deftly avoiding snaking tendrils attempting to snare. Den-neer felt the man's concentration – Archangel was looking for something.
Den-neer cast a mental line. Immediately, an intellect touched back. Archangel.
Unfortunately, the action didn't go unnoticed by others.
###
Warren jerked when another mind touched his. 'Who?!'
/ Archangel, it is Den-neer. I'm here to help. /
He swung around toward the presence he sensed was lying behind and below. He flew toward the source. As he drew closer, he spied a form that looked somewhat like Den-neer, yet not, standing upon a calm spot on the churning blackness. Could Den-neer be his way out?
/ What's attacking me? / In the back of his mind, he worried. Was this a trick by the attacker? If so, how could he uncover the deception?
/ I can't determine that – I sense no identity. What I do know is there appears to two separate entities. /
As Warren darted around a reaching strand of blue-black. / That bird up there is me. /
/ That much I understand. Impressive. If you tapped into that part of your subconscious, you would be a warrior difficult to defeat. /
Warren winced at the observation. It was that 'impressive' part of him he had so ferociously held at bay since a teenager. And that part was what Apocalypse had tapped into for his transformation into Death. The creature was a killing machine, sans the weaponry needed to execute fully. Apocalypse had provided those weapons. The result had been horrific.
/ Think I'll keep him tightly leashed, Den-neer – except for right now. He's keeping whatever is attacking me occupied for the most part. / Warren slipstreamed hard to the left to avoid another tendril. / I need to get out of here. Can you lead the way? /
Den-neer felt the black awareness turn his way. The calm area beneath his feet rippled. / Perhaps. I am concerned what will happen if we leave before ousting your visitors. Without you actively defending yourself, it may overcome you. /
Warren came to a hover just above Den-neer, keeping a close eye on the churning inkiness below and the tangling arms the air. / What's happening on the outside? /
/ You are unaware of your surroundings, vocalizing, and your skin is turning blue. /
Warren felt his stomach drop. He began circling, fear manifesting in agitated flight. / Blue? Oh god, of course! It's the nannites! They are activating! / His metaphysical heart raced. Ettwanae, Flint, Gatebi! If the transformation should complete and he became violent… / You need to get out and warn them! I could kill everyone! Den-neer, now! Go! Get Volu and tell her to do whatever is necessary before it's too late! /
Den-neer sent a reassuring mental touch to Archangel. / She is already there will protect the others, Archangel, and give us time to deal with the threat here. /
Warren felt a bit less panicky. / You're certain they understand the danger? /
/ Volu knows. She has you in a force field. /
That Volu would kill him if he became an eminent danger to Ettwanae, Warren had no doubt. In an odd way, it was comforting. Ettwanae and the others would be safe. He'd be dead, but they'd be safe.
/ This is more than a physical transformation, Archangel. I sense purpose here, but no sentiency behind it. That fits with what you say about the nannites. It's possible I'm sensing their awakening. Still, a mental attack doesn't fit with nannite activation. /
Shrieks and screeches echoed through the mental construct as it became pitch dark. Only Warren's golden glow and his feral self's soft white radiance broke the blackness. Yet in the realm of the mind, Den-neer and Warren could still see one another.
/ These nannites are different – somehow they tap into my subconscious and bring out the worst in me. No explanation for how, but fact. /
The Shozen operative cocked an eyebrow. / Extraordinary. But there is something else- /
A long, mournful cry cut Den-neer off and sent shivers down Warren's spine. He scanned the blackness. No more streaks of light. Had the feral worn down? Had they lost the fight?
Warren reached out to his other half and beckoned 'come.'
/ You're going to reintegrate? /
/ Yes. The battle on that front has been lost. /
###
Outside, Ettwanae sank to the ground. Warren's skin was now completely blue and continuing to darken. Golden hair was pulling back into his head to be replaced by a blue-black skullcap. First one feather, then another morphed to shining silver blades. The process was slow – most of the feathers still remained white and soft. Feather against steel was a jarring and sickening contrast.
Her precious soulbound was becoming something she didn't want to imagine. However frightening the advancing transformation was, it was also morbidly mesmerizing. Lying before her, held down tightly by Volu's force shield, the man she loved had become split between beautiful and horrific. A monstrous juxtaposition. His half-and-half state was perhaps worse than if he completely changed.
She thought she'd vomit. Then Ettwanae caught herself. Even if his outward appearance changed, the Warren she loved was still in there. Her brave, tender, determined, playful, loving Warren would still be there. Wouldn't he? Her chest clenched as doubt closed in. Wouldn't he?
###
On a planet far away, an Elder worried.
So many pieces needed to come together quickly. If Phai was honest with herself, she was uncertain they'd be ready. The other Trients seemed further along in their preparations than hers. Had she been too cautious? Too adverse to risk?
Phai emerged from her home after Ettwanae's training session for a needed but brief break to renew her spirit. Having sent Den-neer to calm the Esha'Aru through mediation, she strolled through the garden of her abode well after the planet's red sun had set and reflected on all they'd accomplished over the past two thousand years since she joined the Council. Careful manipulation had helped many of the Trient's dominant species attain that position. As the brightest and most promising flourished, so did their technology. And the Shozen built upon and used those advances to further their own and vice versa.
They had come close to reaching every goal set out so very long ago. Now all those plans were threatened by an overestimation of when the endgame would begin. Another decade…even another five years…would have almost ensured success on all fronts.
She stopped before the vertical reflecting pool – her favorite spot in the garden. Two urgent comms awaited attention. Ayr's was likely something he felt urgent, but would not be as the Elder tended to be overly excitable…a probable side effect of the Cquax form he'd taken. Their species was a temperamental lot. No harm in waiting a few minutes in answering. The one tagged as from Etagllot Director Sident would be the second she opened as he oversaw Hercjell's team. Had the woman succeeded? Or was the comm unrelated to that crucial technology?
The myriad of tasks and goals to be accomplished in far too few weeks was daunting. Still much to evaluate, analyze, prepare…and time was quickly running out. The weight of responsibility she bore seemed especially crushing that evening.
Moonlight from the planet's twin astral partners performed a fluid dance with the inky black depths as a gentle breeze caressed water. Hypnotic. She watched and let tensions and worries drift away on the night wind.
Closing eyes, she floated on the enveloping sounds of nature. Wind. Water. Nocturnal calls of insects and animals. She focused on the soothing energy of her surroundings. Tranquility.
'Ozshi'wanae, am I disappointing you?' she questioned her deity.
A wind gust caught her flowing white hair, carrying a 'no' on its breath. She would take that as answer, whether actually the voice of their goddess or not. Faith and determination had been her steady companions since she joined the Council. Those traits had carried her from a young woman looking for purpose to the pinnacle of power within their small, exclusive society. Phai would not falter in either as the final days closed in.
Eyes still closed, she extended her mind out, hoping to feel the gentle touch of Ozshi'wanae. Typically, the deity came to her through mediation in quiet pictorials, but that evening there was no time for deep mediation. As expected, the goddess did not brush her awareness.
But something else did.
Cerulean blue eyes shot open to scan the courtyard with visual acuity unmatched by any other known species, save Esha'Aru. Two shadows swept from the black corners of the courtyard, closing in on her at breathtaking speed. She lashed out instinctively with a mind-shattering telepathic burst. Any other enemy would have dropped in their tracks, but not the six-legged creatures rushing in.
Several things happened in the next microseconds. Phai ignited Aru to wrap herself in an Eilu-blinding aura just as the attackers reached her. Piercing screams sent sharp pains through her keen ears. With a mental command, the household security system kicked in, flooding the entire courtyard and house with brilliant light. More shrieks of agony. Scanners searched for intruders, but automated weapons could not lock onto the black masses that scuttled for any kind of shadowy cover.
Then Phai felt another presence suddenly shoot up from behind, defying the floodlights and her glowing shield. It was the mind she'd detected moments earlier. 'Half-breed!' was the only thought she could conjure before deep, slicing pain pierced her low back. Instinct took over and an incredibly powerful arm swung backward into her assailant, sending him sailing many feet across the patio. Whirling around, she saw the figure deftly land on its feet, facing her. A long dagger caught a flash of moonlight, illuminating the blue-green blood coating its length. A sickly sneer revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth on a homely face of small eyes, a large nose, and mottled ink-black and grey skin. Then the creature sprang as Phai dodged. She wasn't quite fast enough.
As their bodies collided, pain from her wound robbed breath. Despite it, Phai absorbed the impact to remain upright and grab the knife arm, hoping to keep it from a second plunge. The flow of hot fluid down her thigh told her the first injury was serious, and she may not survive another. A quick end to the attack was needed before blood loss slowed her.
With a sharp twist and backward snap, the attacker's arm broke in her steel grip. The Eilu half-breed sucked in air and growled. Thankfulness of her decision to take Zchezuan form flitted through thought. Her adopted strength may be the only thing to save her.
The creature in her grasp suddenly clamped down with savage teeth on her shoulder, forcing a scream from her throat as flesh and bone gave way under crushing jaws. The world whirled and smelled of blood. Desperation grew as her Aru shield dimmed. With all her strength, she grabbed the being from behind and ripped him from her body, flesh tearing from her shoulder as the teeth refused to give up their hold.
The airborne body of the Eilu operative hit the courtyard wall with a crunching thud, telling her bone had not held up against solid stone. Her attacker slid down the wall and did not move – at first. Then slowly, with a sinister grin, it stood. As it played with the dagger, it became apparent that the broken arm was healed. Her heart sunk. Near instant regeneration of the assassin meant killing it would be nearly impossible without a weapon. Perhaps if she could wrest the dagger away and behead it?
Where were her guards? They should have been at her side within seconds. Dead, she concluded. More puzzling – how did the Eilu find her? Then the floodlights winked out, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the scene. Weaponless, without light to keep the Eilu at bay, and blood loss draining strength quickly, she was doomed. As the grinning half-breed and black masses began circling like predators, she could only have faith that the next Elder of Elders would lead the galaxy to victory over darkness.
"My Goddess," she prayed aloud as the Eilu closed in. "Into your Light, I commend my spirit."
###
The bird shot down to Archangel as if it had been eagerly waiting its master's command. Den-neer watched in fascination as the creature approached and wrapped pure white wings around Archangel's golden form. In a blinding flash, the two merged.
The construct shuddered. 'Interesting,' he observed. Then another kind of response grabbed his attention. A blue-black tendril was rising out of the inky sea beneath his feet and reaching for his legs. It knew he was there.
###
Warren sensed a tremor in the psychic realm as he and his feral half remerged with brilliant affect.
Light seemed to have caused the reaction. Could it be? Den-neer warned they needed to destroy the enemy before leaving. His golden glow, while enhanced with the addition of his feral's white light, wasn't enough. But he knew a source of light that did burn with intensity.
It would be dangerous – he'd be defenseless against the blue-black enemy while making the attempt. Perhaps with Den-neer's help. Worth a try. Maybe it would drive the nannites back into dormancy. That was a leap of logic without foundation, but instinct told him to pursue. He looked down to Den-neer ready to land next to the man, but the Shozen operative was in trouble. Liquid black fingers were stretching out to ensnare him.
"Den-neer!" Warren dropped telepathic communication in favor of shouting.
"To me now!" the man yelled back.
Warren did not hesitate, and nearly knocked the man over as he dropped along side onto the small, calm spot of the roiling black sea. A shimmering bubble formed around them as inky tendrils closed in. They could not breach the barrier as they scrapped and pounded against it.
"I can hold them off for awhile, but I'm not at my strongest within your mind," the man said solemnly. "I've gained myself time here, but not sure how much longer I can remain. The nannites or whatever is behind them will either kill me or drive me out."
"Then we need to act fast." Warren ruffled wings to resettle feathers.
The Shozen smiled. "You have a plan."
"I do. Not sure if it will work or blow up in our faces, but if this coup d'état needs to be put down before we leave…"
Den-neer nodded. "I believe it does or you may fully transform and perhaps lose yourself to the darker side of your consciousness the nannites tap into."
Warren glanced around at a swell of blue-black heading in their direction. "I'm going to tap into Source…or at least try. If I can generate enough light-"
"-it could break the hold of whatever is attempting to overtake you physically and mentally," the other man finished as he eyed the gathering blackness.
Warren gave a single nod of agreement. "Looks like I better hurry."
For a moment, Warren thought the other man actually shuddered.
"I concur."
Warren sat and closed his eyes. Willing himself calm, he sought what he and Ztar had so often tapped into unwittingly; what he and Ettwanae conjured together purposefully with brilliant results – the Source. Could he generate enough lumens solo? Would he be able to tap it in his current predicament? Only one way to find out.
His higher mind slid easily into the tranquil place deep within himself. It was far easier to reach than he would have believed under the circumstances. A benefit of already being in a meditative plane perhaps.
He sensed heaviness pressing against Den-neer's psychic shield. The telepath groaned in effort to hold up the only thing between them and being overwhelmed by whatever force or forces the darkness represented. No more time for contemplation.
Reliving memories of sensualities with Ztar and the times he and Ettwanae shared Source, he hoped to open the gates. His mind was not cooperating – he just couldn't find the door. Renewing his effort seemed to make it only more difficult. 'Damn!'
Then he felt the other man kneel next to him with another moan. "Archangel, you must hurry. I am…weakening."
###
The transformation was nearly complete and Ettwanae screamed at Volu and Den-neer's unmoving form.
"Please – do something!" she said around the sobs of icy fear and dread. The shrieks and animal-like cries and thrashing had ceased. At first Ettwanae thought it meant progress, but then the metamorphosis quicken.
"Den-neer's brainwave pattern says he is still working telepathically. If I do anything, it could damage both of them."
"But he's nearly completely that other creature!"
"I know, Ettwanae. I see. Please, be calm. Give Den-neer and Warren a chance."
The force shield around her beloved prevented her from getting close. She desperately wanted to touch him – to connect physically and give him an anchor. That was not to be. And so she sat on the ground several yards away watching as the last of the golden hair disappeared. Only a few soft feathers remained. Pointed claws had replaced nails and his skin had turned a deep blue with black areas. She hardly recognized the face.
And then the last feathers melted into silver. Her heart sunk.
Ettwanae jumped in fright as without warning, the metal wings suddenly snapped out, defying Volu's powerful shield. Turf and two small garden statuettes were sliced through as if they weren't there. If she'd been within their range…
The only thing that saved Den-neer was his position at Warren's head. She exhaled in deep relief that the telepath appeared untouched.
She was scared – so very, very scared.
###
Den-neer was holding on by a thread. Even in the psychic realm, sweat ran down his body and his head felt ready to explode. He'd have to exit soon or risk his own mind. While he grew weaker, the blackness was gaining strength. Despite concentrating solely on maintaining the shield, awareness of a second presence grew. The telepathic feel was akin to someone regaining consciousness after very deep sleep or coma. First impression – powerful and…evil.
Whatever or whoever was awakening was clearly within the psionic pod. How was it that Archangel housed a second consciousness? An apparent malevolent one, at that. But it was a consciousness without a lifeforce signature, as Shozen scientists had found only two lifeforce patterns in their scans of Human – the man's own and the Turzent's. What kind of entity exists without one?
Suddenly, energy rushed through the blackness. He instantly knew the source – the pod. The menace inside was awake. Den-neer trembled. If that intelligent consciousness joined the mindless intent of the nannites, all was lost.
Energized and directed, the blue-black mass surged. The rush drove Den-neer into a curled position and his hand onto Archangel's knee. He squeezed tightly, hoping the unspoken message was understood. His shields were crumbling. Sadly, he sensed only tension in the man next to him. Archangel was failing. Tapping into the last of his mental strength, Den-neer projected one last bit of advice.
/ Float, Archangel. You are trying too hard. Simply imagine where you wish to be…then just…float. /
###
Den-neer's thought drifted in, sounding so very frail. The telepath was near the end of endurance. If Warren was going to succeed, it had to be then and there.
Gathering himself for a third time, Warren inhaled deeply, held, it then exhaled slowly and completely through his construct lips. He pictured the gateway and wished himself there. Repeat process – breathe; visualize. A wave of calm swept over him, and he let it wash him back out with it as it flowed away.
Then, more movement and something swirled within him. Suddenly, a sensation of untapped power radiated, sending vibrations strumming from head to toe. The gate! He pictured it opening, slowly. A crack appeared and brilliance peeked out.
###
Den-neer had to leave. His shield was a mere hairbreadth from their construct selves as the blackness pushed and pressed. The barrier was failing – he was failing. The vaunted Shozen weapon wasn't invincible.
Phai had poured all the genetic knowledge her people had rediscovered over the thousands of years into his creation. Physical prowess, intellect, telekinesis so precise he could manipulate on the cellular level, and telepathic ability nearly unmatched in nature. Rarely was he pushed to his limits, but he'd reached that point…and had gone beyond.
If anything happened to Archangel, the galaxy may not survive the loss. The knowing fueled him. The dual-enemy he held back with the last of his formidable mental might was more powerful than any he'd encountered.
A crack formed in the shield near his arm. He fought to seal it quickly, but the blackness was too nimble and began oozing through.
/ Archangel – we are out of time! /
###
Warren was awake. Lying on the ground, held in place by Volu's force shield, he turned his head toward her. The eyes that locked to Ettwanae's were blood red and glittering with unmistakable anger.
Fear engulfed her, and she scrambled crab-like backward, hitting the wall that surrounded the garden. She knew. Ettwanae knew what she wished she did not.
/ Goddess! Volu! He's gone! Warren is gone! /
Some how, some way, the blue and black creature with metallic wings pushed against Volu's force shield to partially sit up, before being knocked back to the ground. It snarled and growled its frustration. Her blood turned to ice. The shield would hold. It must hold until Den-neer saved Warren. The man who had been her mortal enemy for two years was now her soulbound's only hope.
'Please, Ozshi'wanae! Please, help Warren – I beg you. My goddess, please!'
What had been Warren raged against the invisible hand that held it to the ground. As steel wings slashed and snapped, soil and turf flew. In an unbelievable display of strength, he began to sit up, muscles budging and the strain clear on the twisted face. In surreal slow motion, the monster defied Volu's powerful shield. How?
/ Volu! /
/ I know, my Poda. Something is nullifying my shields. I think it is the nannites. You must get away! /
/ But Warren …! /
/ That is not Warren. Come to me quickly, before I can no longer hold him! /
Ettwanae looked up to the open bay door above her. She glanced back. "Warren, please – it's me…Ettwanae. I love you!"
/ Ettwanae – now! / Volu's voice screamed in her head.
Then everything happened in a blur. The creature launched itself into the air. An energy beam shot from Volu, slamming it down with ground shaking force. Bae was suddenly at Volu's side. Ettwanae jumped to her feet, screaming in fear that Volu killed her intended mate. Alarms sounding inside the facility interlaced with the Esha'Aru's cries as a doorway slid aside to reveal Flint and Gatebi.
Ettwanae tried to reach her fallen love, but a force field blocked her way. She screamed and fought against it.
"Flint! Gatebi! Inside!" Bae roared at the pair who hesitated, looking very confused. "Do it!" The pair backpedaled quickly, and the doorway closed.
Ettwanae stilled as she watched in disbelief as the terrifying, blue-skinned creature got to its feet, seething through clenched teeth. Those teeth were the one thing she still recognized as Warren – shining white and perfect against the dark blue and black face with red eyes.
She vomited.
What had been Warren laughed. It was the sound of evil. She could hear nothing of Warren's wonderful voice.
/ I am sorry, my Poda. / The words were tender, sad, full of pain…and full of the unsaid.
She and Bae were going to kill the man Ettwanae loved.
###
I do love a good cliffhanger! ;-) But hopefully the wait for what comes next will only be a few days. Until then, my friends.