Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #63 – Void

Darkness. Silence. The humming of the engines as the only background, a noise echoing through the obsidian walls, through the empty corridors. Small emergency lamps dotted the ceiling, piercing the blackness at least by a little, but not enough for the eyes to see. The ears, though, listened. Listened to the breaths, to every step, to every creak in the empty hallways. Robin’s gas mask hummed too, the sound of the active filter spreading through the air, bouncing back to her. Inside Lagash. Again. Her brothers. Her sisters. They had been there before. She watched their memories. She watched their frantic run through that maze of cramped corridors inside the belly of the whale. Slow. Slow. Fifteen other people relied on her. Plus five billion more, outside of the boundaries of the seedship. Find the weapon control mechanism. Find the control room that feeds maps to the swarm. Two different targets they had to reach, either of them would have sufficed. Yet, in the dark, with only the lights of their lamps, every second felt like an eternity, every meter an impossible distance. For everyone except one person: the blind woman who was clicking her tongue, using the reverb to orient herself and find her bearing, using the vibrations in the floor to guide her steps. That violinist moved with the elegance of a dancer, without hesitation, without fear, almost as if darkness was an old time friend for her, one she cherished as a long lost sibling. Still, even her breath wasn’t quiet, even her rhythm was slightly thrown off. Not even Kryzalid was immune to the awe of those long, labyrinthian, unlit corridors.

The soldiers walked slowly behind her, glancing around nervously, moving the sights of their guns all over the walls, on the ceiling too. The flash lights on their weapons gave them a hint of visibility, a hope not to get lost inside that maze. Kryzalid listened to their heartbeats, to their ragged breaths. In the shadows, she was one with sound. The shadows themselves were one with her.

“Here. This is the door that wasn’t open before the turn. The one Captain Gravess found.”

Robin’s distorted voice, more machine than man, pierced the tense atmosphere like a blade of ice, sending shivers down everyone’s spine. Every eye focused on that black gate, a gate that radiated a foul stench of decay. Kryzalid pinched her nose, pulled her tongue out. That was too much even for her, even for someone who was found in a body bag inside a dump. Stench of rotten corpses. That was a given. Evidently, the swarm had no access to that room, otherwise it would have worked its magic and deleted all evidence. When they landed, they found no traces of the Niteowl Seraphs – so, there was a high chance they were already devoured by the nanos. But there? That smell meant more than it seemed at first, betrayed more information than it should have. An area that nanos couldn’t cross. That had to mean something. Lacrima’s heartbeat accelerated too. That was the smell of death, the one Mimi had to endure so many times. She restrained herself, avoided puking her lymph out, kept the green fluid inside her. She needed it all. She couldn’t give it away so easily.

Robin raised her fist, turned to the group behind her.

“This is where we split. We don’t have enough time to check all the areas and we can’t afford failure. Kryzalid, six soldiers and I will proceed to the second gate. Lacrima and the other seven will… go through this one, as planned.”

Lacrima gulped down her saliva. Going in alone with seven humans she didn’t know anything of, deep in hostile territory. That felt scary in a way, but it was a necessity, because Mimi was needed elsewhere: her implants and jacks were the key to the second part of the operation. Lacrima was part of the decoy team. Mimi was a member of the hacking team. At first, the perspective made her uneasy. Yet, slowly, she managed to accept it. Her hand moved in the dark, till it grabbed another one, clenched its fingers around it, shared its warmth with it. Mimi’s hand. Trembling like hers. Their heartbeats synchronized for a second, a tum tum tum perfectly in tune, without a single bar off. That calmed her a little. Touching her calmed her a little. A house plant in tune with her watering can. That thought made her chuckle softly. The most bizarre way to describe their relationship, one that encapsulated the weirdness of their union but failed to underline a critical fact, one that Lacrima was struggling to come to terms with. A fact that has been clear as day to everyone around except the two actually involved. So, she basked in the calmness of that mutual contact for a couple more seconds, before finally, reluctantly letting go of Mimi.

Robin’s distorted voice echoed through the corridors again, reverberating all through the motionless metal.

“Decoy team, I wish you good luck. In case of danger, let Lacrima handle it first. She’s trained for this… and has plenty of spare lymph.”

The soldiers nodded, albeit unconvincingly so. Pangean. They didn’t like rhizomes, not a single bit, and now they were trusting one with their lives. Robin would have preferred the teams to be arranged so that Lacrima, Kryzalid and she were together, but Papanastasis had been categorical: they had to split. Probably he still didn’t trust them completely and posited that having all the three of them together would be dangerous, if they had a change of heart in the middle of the operation. This led to the unfortunate decision of putting Kryzalid in one team and Lacrima in the other, just because they were singled out as ‘the most dangerous’ of the trio. Robin didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it made sense to separate an alleged headxploding terrorist from a rhizome with no moral compass except getting water and nutrients through unsavory means. On the other hand, it meant that she was ignored again. Her threat level wasn’t such that she was considered worthy of attention. That made her both genuinely relieved and genuinely angry. Being passed over one more time, after the events of the previous ‘fornicating night’, felt painful. Still, she didn’t have a choice or a say in the matter. The decoy team was meant to create a diversion by destroying and damaging the control room that Captain Gravess found, taking care of the ‘creature’, the ‘guardian’ of that place too. In the meanwhile, the hacking team was going to locate one among the weapon control system and the swarm control unit of Lagash and try to shut it down, either effectively removing the only defense the massive seedship had against Nemo and missile barrages or disabling the hungry plague for good. Of the two, the weapon control system seemed the easiest to find and operate. It was a long shot, but one that had some chance of succeeding, based on two simple assumptions:

1. Lagash was, first and foremost, a starship with a crew. The crew had to have a simple way to access the anti-impactor cannons and override the automatic system in case of a dire emergency. That meant that the flight deck or a room close to it had to have a terminal where to access it.

1. There was no reason for the control systems of the seedship not to use a standard second-vault data transmission protocol, not if the seedship was made by humans for humans.

The logic wasn’t bombproof, the premise could be challenged. The apparent contradiction of the two Turns of the Millennium failing for completely opposite reasons made point 2. weaker. Still, for a lack of better plans, that solution was worth their best shot. Finding a way to control the swarm would have been the best outcome, but, without knowing how they were produced and steered, total obliteration of the ship was the preferred Pangean solution – one that Robin couldn’t really argue against.

So, she kept her objection for herself, let out a deep breath, before turning towards the remaining soldiers, towards a suddenly silent Kryzalid.

“We’re going to the flight deck. The other hidden section is there.”

Without speaking further, Robin stepped away from the open corridor, watched as the decoy team advanced through the dark threshold, one person at a time. When Lacrima’s turn came, the rhizome glanced once again at Robin, then at Mimi. In that moment, she felt something strange on her cheek, tapped it with her human hand. Water. She was leaking water from her eye. She cursed under her breath, wiped it away. Then, stepped forward in the darkness, following the soldiers that preceded her. Without a sound, except the clack clack of her platform shoes, pounding on the metal. Hiding her aching heartbeat from Mimi’s ears, trying her best to prevent her from listening to it.

Failing miserably at it.

“Laccy?”

She stopped. Mimi’s voice. Calling her name. She stood still, didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to, since Mimi’s eyes were defective. She didn’t need to face her, to cause even more water to leak out of her eye.

“…yes?”

Mimi flashed a grin, snapped her fingers.

“You’ll better kick some ass and tell me about it later! I don’t expect anything less from my house plant! Spare no lymph, ‘kay? Use it all and smash them like potatoes!”

Lacrima heaved a sigh, smiled.

“And you’ll better keep some water for me, Mimi. Lots of water. I’m… craving it already.”

She felt warmth around her neck, around her chest. Mimi’s arms. Closed around her. Her lips on her cheek. Licking out the leaked water. Gently caressing her skin, her hair, her flower.

“I’ll let you suck me dry as much as you want, till you blossom twice over.”

Lacrima shivered at her touch, hoping that moment would never end, hoping Mimi’s hands could move a little lower, just a little lower, caress her there too, just short of triggering a lymph release. Still, that eternity lasted less than a heartbeat and the embrace stopped before really starting. Lacrima felt Mimi’s hand on her head again, patting her forehead.

“Go, now. And don’t die or I’ll kill you, got it?”

Lacrima nodded vigorously, stepped forward towards the corridor.

“Same for you.”

“Good.”

Yet another smirk on Mimi’s face, a fake one that hid her melancholy. And, slowly, as Lacrima’s silhouette faded in the dark, Mimi faded too, leaving room to her other self, to the image she had built around it, her protective shell, the cage that encased her feelings. Kryzalid was holding the steering wheel again.

It was high time for her concert.

**

The first thing that struck Robin, after crossing the gate, was the sound of water. Splash. Splash. Splash. Every step felt like pure pain, ankles deep into a moist river that flooded the corridor. Steam above. Water below. Broken pipes all around. Whatever took care of keeping the ship in pristine condition didn’t seem to have checked that sector in a long time. The door was exactly where Ray, her oldest brother, saw it with his eyes. Close to the vaults, but not really there, somehow hidden behind an intersection or two. Still, she wasn’t expecting it to be so badly maintained, to the point that she asked herself whether that was the right direction at all. Her boots splashed water all around, her red cape got heavier by the second because of all the soaked fluid. And, behind her, a muttering choir of uncertain steps, steps crawling through the half flooded section. No lights, of course. Just the faint emergency lamps, blinking out of sync in the dark. Robin went through her mental map again. That corridor had to lead to the true flight deck, the true piloting room. The so-called flight deck of Lagash, where the vaults resided, had little to no instrumentation, as if it was an afterthought or a case of deceptive naming. No, the real deck had to be somewhere else, somewhere with more screens, more keyboards, more levers and buttons. Unless, of course, everything was done via jacking into the machines. It was a system prone to failure and not redundant enough, though – something that a seedship sent on a millennia long mission couldn’t deal with that easily. One dead end, another turn. Logic mandated the room to be close to the bow, or at least that was what was written in the design guidelines for Reusable Space Vectors that the seventh vault contained. One turn again, in the direction she expected it to be. Steam and broken pipes again, even more water.

Where does all this water come from?, she wondered.

That was highly unusual. It almost looked like that section sustained heavy damage, but when? Somewhere, somehow, something had to break down the cooling lines to achieve such a massive flooding. Why, though, was a question that begged to be answered.

She proceeded slowly, carefully, while still keeping an eye on the clock. Around forty minutes left till the next wave of nanos. Still plenty of time. The soldiers followed her, keeping each a hand on the back of the comrade in front of them, in an example of teamwork, of trying to do things as usual. Only Kryzalid wasn’t following that pattern, jumping around the pools instead like a small kid in a pond, letting the water soak her robe, while dancing close to Robin. Dangerously close. To the point that her grin could be seen even without lights, just by the sheer closeness of her face. Robin, of course, did her best to ignore that childish behavior of hers. It was neither the place nor the time, but a burned-brain lymph addict couldn’t really be expected to be reasonable.

Till, all of a sudden

she stopped in her tracks.

Still.

Completely still.

Kryzalid stopped moving.

Remained still.

For a long instant.

Before pointing her finger forward.

Towards the end of the corridor.

“…Robbie, can you hear it?”

“Hear wh…”

There. It was there. Right above background noise level and yet loud and clear to her ear.

That sound.

The same sound.

Robin’s instinct had the better of her, her hand grabbed Kryzalid’s cape, pulled it down in a rush. Both of them fell in the water, splashing it all around them. The soldiers watched them, stopped for an instant, threw themselves to the ground too.

Then, silence fell.

And a bright white beam pierced the air, slashing through the corridor, burning everything in its wake. The whiteness reflected on the walls, eradicating the darkness, turning night into day. Then, slowly, the shadows took over their rightful domain once more, filling the silent corridor, eating the shining remnants of that ray of destruction.

Robin gasped for air, breathed deeply behind her mask, leapt up. Her fingers closed around the holster of her gun, took the weapon out, removed the safety, aimed it forward, pulled the trigger, kept it pushed down. A noise filled the corridor again.

The same noise.

Only, this time.

Coming from her weapon.

Her arm recoiled back. A shining white beam, a beam of the same white, blazed through the air, burned it one more time in a straight line, before dissipating in a cloud of smoke. Robin’s heartbeat accelerated, her muscles twitched, all while she focused on the background. Only the sound of dripping water. The humming of the machines. No other noise in the distance. Breaths. Splashes. Curse words behind her. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Splashes, again.

In front of her.

At the end of the corridor.

She checked the magazine of her weapon, looked at the residual charge, aimed it forward again. Shooting one more time without a target would have been a waste. So, she waited. Waited. Waited. Still listening. Her heart pounding faster. Faster. Faster.

Still, nothing happened. Absolute silence. Absolute stillness.

“Robbie…? What was that?”

Kryzalid’s voice, right behind her. She spat out water, grabbed her violin from the ground, touched the strings. Her robe was soaked, heavily dangling on her legs, causing her to shiver. Robin didn’t care, though. That was just a distraction.

“Robbie?”

“Silence!”

She shouted, let out all the air stored in her lungs. Her distorted voice echoed in the corridor, bounced on the metal surrounding her. The soldiers squatted down again close to the walls, disabled the safety of their guns, got ready to shoot. Nothing. All waiting. Listening to their own breaths, to their own hearts. Robin kept her arm up, for an interminable minute. Before stepping forward, slowly, her boots splashing water all around her, her cape still damp from dodging that beam.

Only to find herself slammed on the black metal, slammed by the hand of a blind violinist.

“Chris, what the…”

A dark spire slashed the ceiling, pierced the floor where Robin was standing not even two seconds before. The soldiers aimed their guns up, opened fire. The ratatata of their weapons overshadowed everything else, roaring like a symphony of lead blasting through the unlit blackness.

And the ceiling came down, broken into pieces, panels slamming on the flooded surface, water splashed everywhere. The soldiers spread out, fell back. Mouths agape, shaking hands, hearts pounding out of their chests. As their vision became clearer, as the roars faded, they managed to catch a glimpse of it, of the ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ that ambushed them.

There, among them, stood a colossal shape, one large enough to fill the corridor.

That was it, the ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮.

Darker than black.

Six spider-like legs.

Two larger arms at the forefront.

A scorpion tail.

Spikes all over its body.

Twitching. Twisting. Like ever-moving pistons. Cables like slithering technoworms, crawling over each other, up and down the massive frame of that biomechanical abomination.

A white, featureless face towered from one side, one without a mouth, without a nose. But not without eyes.

Robin gasped, she raised her gun again, right as her hand trembled.

Those eyes.

Two red embers that blazed through the void.

The same red embers that Captain Gravess saw, before meeting his end.

The same red embers she saw once, when her world still existed.

The eyes of a ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ that should never have woken up again.

A ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮ that was now standing in front of her, in front of her companions

With no intention of letting them go.