The Shattering, Chapter 63

He stood beneath the broad arch of a dented doorway, fragments of twisted metal scattered at his feet. The chamber stretched wide before him, alive with the throbbing pulse of dormant machines. Dim lights lined the high ceiling in crooked rows, each fixture throwing pale illumination on looming silhouettes. A tang of ozone lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of soldered wires and old paper. He let his gaze wander. One side of the room held tiered racks of books, each column rising to the rafters like a crooked tower. The other side was cluttered with instruments made from brass and steel, hammered plates and glass tubes humming with stifled currents.

Bent figures in mechanical harnesses shuffled along the floor, arms shaking as they carried ancient tomes from one side of the chamber to another. Their spines bulged with cables. Loose tubes trailed behind them. One stooped near Thragg, lifted watery eyes, and stared. Its jaw hung slack, a string of saliva glistening on its chin. The cables woven through its scalp twitched. Then it turned away without a word.

He walked on. Footsteps echoed in the narrow aisles between looming stacks of parchment. The overhead lights showed him the dull metal of the floor beneath, each panel scuffed by boot prints and cart tracks. Thin steel beams supported the entire structure, some bent from the starship’s many collisions. Machinery hummed deeper within the vessel, echoing in Thragg’s ears. Up above, the battered ceiling bore patches of incomplete repair, globs of sealant congealed around hairline fractures that once threatened a hull breach.

Behind him, the hole he had torn through the ship’s outer plating was sealed by an automated patch, still dripping a viscous substance that hardened on contact with vacuum. A faint breeze stirred the dusty air, as life support systems compensated for that new rupture.

He moved further in. He heard the click of heavy doors in the distance, the hiss of pressurized locks. A second later, a new light bathed the chamber in harsh red. Shapes converged, their massive outlines casting deep shadows across the walls. He paused at the sound of mechanical servos whining in unison.

They stood taller than any normal human. They wore hulking plates of dark grey armor that caught the overhead lights on scuffed surfaces. Each carried a rifle too large for an ordinary man to wield with ease. Their helmets bore a grim visage, single lenses glowing faintly. They strode in formation, their steps shaking the floor. He watched them spread out, rifles raised. Their posture suggested discipline and an ingrained thirst for battle.

He offered no greeting. The first barrage came in the form of roaring gunfire. The muzzle flashes flickered, and the thunder of the shots rolled through the chamber. Shells hurtled toward him, trailing streaks of orange in the half-light. He did not break stride. He allowed the shells to hit, each impact pinging off his chest and arms with a sparking clash. Tiny explosions lit the air around him. Warmth bloomed along his torso where the projectiles spent themselves. His steps never slowed.

The giants did not relent. Their rifles hissed and kicked, each trigger pull accompanied by a barking muzzle flame. The noise pressed against his ears like a storm’s thunder, but he advanced. Shell fragments clattered on the metal deck. Some embedded in the stacks of books. Pages fluttered loose in the wake of stray rounds and fell in drifting arcs.

A slow exhalation left his lips as he came closer. A few of the giants stepped back, repositioning behind thick pillars. Others swapped out their magazines with abrupt metallic snaps. One pulled a short-barreled device from a holster on his hip, a slender tube with a flaring muzzle. He aimed it at Thragg’s head. A sudden flash, followed by a concussive blast. The projectile’s explosion enveloped Thragg in rolling smoke. He emerged unscathed, smoke trailing off his shoulders and hair.

They paused, perhaps uncertain. He could see the subtle tilt of their helmets, as if they were communicating by unseen means. Then the largest giant stepped forward, brandishing a blade. It crackled with energy, arcs of violet lightning dancing around the edges. A faint keening sound rose from the blade’s surface.

That giant lunged. Thragg raised an arm and allowed the weapon to bite into his forearm. Sparks flew as the cackling blade met Viltrumite skin. The armor-clad figure pressed forward, bracing both hands on the hilt for more leverage. Thragg felt a faint sting, like a static jolt. He locked eyes with the warrior behind the helmet’s dark lenses. Then he gripped the blade near its tip, ignoring the crackling discharge. Metal groaned as he twisted it from the giant’s grip. He turned his wrist, and the weapon tore free with a shriek of sundered cables.

Sparks danced across Thragg’s knuckles. He flicked the blade aside, the handle clattering on the floor. A swift backhand caught the warrior under the helmet’s chin. The blow sent the giant sailing backward, armor plates crunching in protest. He struck a thick column with enough force to leave a deep indentation. The warrior slumped, limbs splayed, chest plate dented inward.

The others opened fire again. Shots rang out. Thragg took one step, then another, ignoring the sparks ricocheting off his shoulders and ribs. He could feel each round’s impact, each attempt to slow him, yet he merely walked. A second giant closed in, dropping his rifle and raising a heavy mace crackling with similar energies. Thragg sidestepped the overhead swing. His palm found the man’s chest plate and slammed him into a metal console. Dust shook loose from overhead beams. The console’s surface buckled. The giant sprawled, armor scraping the floor.

Shots continued from the flanks, some punching into the walls behind him. A servo-limb flinched, a half-man servitor stumbling away in confusion, arms shielding its head. Thragg turned toward another cluster of these armored assailants. Three advanced in a line, each step precise. The strobing lights of the muzzle flashes lit their helmets in flickering arcs of red and gold. Spent casings rattled across the deck. The thunder of gunfire rolled on.

He walked through their barrage. Each step quiet. Then he seized one by the pauldron and hurled him aside. The giant’s momentum carried him into a waist-high stack of tomes, sending the books and the giant crashing across the floor. Another tried to swing a serrated bayonet up at Thragg’s ribs. Thragg caught the blow with a forearm. Metal edges curled against his unyielding skin. Then he shoved the giant backward. The warrior’s boots left the floor, and he smashed into the far wall. A string of overhead bulbs shattered from the impact.

The third fired point-blank. Muzzle flare danced across Thragg’s chest. Sparks dripped from the contact point. With a swift pivot, Thragg backhanded the rifle aside. The blow carried the giant off his feet, flinging him down the corridor.

Their discipline was evident. Even in retreat, they attempted to coordinate. Some circled to the left while others advanced from the right, cutting off possible exits. Thragg did not intend to flee. He watched them regroup, weapons raised. Then something hissed in the gloom. A tube-like projectile soared. It struck the deck near him, rolling once with a dull clank.

He looked at it: a squat grenade, blinking with a violet glow. He would have dismissed it like the others, but something prickled at the back of his mind. A silent alarm, a nudge from the presence that dwelt within him. Nashara.

He shifted his feet, stepping away with a low blur of speed. The grenade burst. A swirl of swirling blackness tore through the air. Currents of energy spiraled out, twisting reality in a funnel shape. Blue arcs crackled around the jagged edges of this vortex. Air currents whipped at Thragg’s hair and clothes. Papers, torn from the scattered books, flew in a frantic circle. A few of the mechanical thralls shrank back, wide-eyed and trembling. The vortex’s center shuddered like a mirror of living ink.

He saw something move within. At first a flicker, an uncertain silhouette. Then a figure took shape: tall and inhuman, crimson-skinned with horns that swept back over her head. Wings arched from her shoulders, each membrane tinted a dull red, like half-dried blood. A mane of midnight hair cascaded around her face. In one hand she gripped a wicked blade. In the other, a spear dripped with molten runes. She stared through the portal, and for a heartbeat he thought the image meant nothing. Then he caught the lines of her jaw, the tilt of her eyes. Familiar. That face.

She smiled at him, lips parted in an almost playful curve. Then her mouth opened, and he saw elongated canines. Her gaze lingered, bright with an unnatural glow. One horn glinted in the vortex’s shifting light. She raised her free hand and blew him a kiss, the motion slow and deliberate. Her eyes never left his.

The swirling energy pulsed. She winked, and then the vision shimmered. A sudden crack jarred the air, as if reality snapped back into place. The black funnel collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing behind but a jagged distortion of light that vanished with a final flash. All was still. Torn pages drifted to the floor, and the humming machinery in the corners resumed its steady labor. The last swirl of current fizzled out, leaving no sign of the rift.

He stood, gaze fixed on the spot where she had appeared. A piece of charred metal clanked on the deck near his foot. He shifted his attention to it for a moment, then looked back at the ring of giants. They stared as well, perhaps equally surprised at the result of that grenade’s detonation. Some of them exchanged looks. Others turned their weapons back on him, uncertain.

He moved again. Another step forward, shoulders squared. One giant fired, the muzzle flashing in a weak stutter. Bolter shells whined off the deck, spent casing rattling to a corner. Thragg barely noticed. He brushed aside an extended blade, letting the energy crackle across his fingertips. A moment later, he gripped the giant by the arm and spun him into his comrades.

Across the chamber, a new group charged in. A sergeant or captain by the look of his ornamented helm. He led six others, each brandishing short-bladed weapons that gleamed with a hungry light. The battered door they’d come through slid closed behind them, metal grinding.

The officer leveled a gauntlet at Thragg. No words came across, only a silent directive. The others formed a wedge. They advanced with heavy footfalls, each step drumming on the steel deck. Thragg ran a hand over his forearm, where the cackling sword had left a faint scorch mark. He looked at them. Then he was in motion.

He sped forward, the sudden blur of his movement causing them to stagger. The first blow caught the lead warrior’s sword arm, twisting it away. Thragg brought his other arm around in a sweeping strike. Armor buckled. The giant pitched backward, collisions echoing as he rolled across the floor. Another tried to flank him, blade raised overhead. Thragg pivoted. His elbow drove into the warrior’s chest plate. The giant crashed into a cluster of archaic machinery, sparks erupting from severed cables.

A hail of bullets sparked near Thragg’s head. Another marine had circled to line up a shot. Thragg turned, seized the rifle, and crushed its barrel in one hand. The giant jerked back, fumbling for a sidearm. Thragg’s push sent him skidding along the floor, armor screeching. A second shot came from behind, the bullet ricocheting off Thragg’s shoulder. He stepped aside, letting the next round pass him entirely. He closed the distance, knocked the weapon from the warrior’s grip, and slammed a palm into the chest plate. The man soared across the chamber, crashed into a half-toppled shelf, scattering more books.

In the corner, a console started to blare an alarm. Red warning lights swept across the chamber in a repeating pattern. The overhead system hissed, vents cycling out the smoke that drifted through the corridor. Thragg paused a moment to scan for any more immediate threats. Dented bodies in grey armor twitched or lay still. Some tried to stand, leaning on battered rifles.

He thought of the swirling vortex. For the briefest instant, the memory of that face. The horns. The wink. A kiss cast across the breach of dimensions. 

“Nareena…” He whispered to the wind, before moving onward.