11. Tyrxie
Chapter 11
Tyrxie
Breach
T he crew is nestled inside the cramped, lightless container hurtling towards the Nebian Imperial court—an impregnable fortress, or so it will be for a few hours longer. The only sounds are the dim hum of the ship and our own nervous breaths... with Quad’s loud mouth-breathing being the loudest.
My feet shuffle anxiously, itching like znats have crawled into my boots. But there are no znats, only a churning unease that threatens to rob me of my resolve. How the others remain so calm is a mystery—I have the most to fight for, feeling my Xandor through our strange bond, sensing his despair, his life fading like grains of space dust lost in a cosmic wind.
Yet even I struggle to remain strong. Please forgive me, Xandor. My foot shifts with a mind of its own, striking something hard next to me, impossible to identify in the pitch darkness. “Hey!” Quad booms, causing a collection grumble of moans from the others.
Of course, it had to be Quad.
A clang reverberates throughout our enclosure, sending my heart into my throat. “Last time I checked, Elerium generators don’t speak,” Felixus’s muffled voice reprimands. “Quiet now. We’re nearly at the first checkpoint.”
“Sorry,” Quad offers, unusually muted.
“Shh,” comes the collective response. Even those brief sounds carry a nervous edge to them.
“Voiding blockheads,” Felixus mutters, almost inaudibly.
The container shifts, and the sound of the engine’s buzz changes subtly, signaling our descent. I can scarcely breathe as I strain to hear any whisper or sound that might reveal what’s happening. It’s the not knowing which fills me with panic.
The engine falls silent, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake. Soon, the sound of the ship’s door gliding open with a smooth whoosh fills the gap. Footsteps echo from outside our container, and I hold my breath, not daring to make a peep. A new humming sound reaches my senses, and I almost stumble, feeling the floor move and bounce with faint motions.
This is it. There’s no turning back now.
Felixus must be pushing us as the container shifts again, this time moving forward. “Halt, what’s your business here?” A stern but squeaky female voice challenges.
I strain to listen through the thick container, praying Felixus can bluff his way inside. “Didn’t you get my notification? I called ahead. One of the bloody Elerium generators gave out. So, I brought this beauty as a replacement,” Felixus replies, his tone non-perturbed, tapping our container.
“Strange, let me check,” the female guard replies, her voice muffled. “Oh, you’re Felixus Remus the Magister Machinator. I see you on our list now. Everything’s in order.” Each word she says eases my anxious dread. “Let me escort you.” Her offer renews my dread.
“Ah, that won’t be necessary!” Felixus interjects with an urgency that makes me wince. “I’ve been working here for decades. Know the place like the back of my hand,” he finishes, sounding more natural.
“Shame,” the female guard laments before adding, “Please proceed, Magister Machinator.” Our container hums forward, the sudden movement surprising me as I struggle to balance.
“I think that guard fancied me,” Felixus adds with a soft, muffled chuckle. I’d feel happy for him, if not for the fact we’re sneaking into almost heart-thumping certain death. The sensation of movement continues, and I judge we must be outside despite not an inkling of light straining in, given away by the distant roar of armored suits and sleek ships hovering.
“We’re almost inside now. Keep your wits sharp and your eyes open,” Felixus offers. I frown at his poor choice of words, wishing I could see any voiding thing!
The sound of stomping and whirling mechanical gears becomes louder, perking my ears. “Greetings Felixus. Haven’t seen you bring something that big in a long time,” a male voice amplified through one of their mechanical suits echoes out.
Felixus lets out a heavy sigh. “I know, real disaster, this one, bloody Elerium generator. It’s not easy jigging one of these together on such short notice, let me tell you.”
The male guard laughs. “That’s why I prefer to pilot the tech rather than craft it. Not like I know one end of a hypospanner from the other.”
“Well, we desperately need brave soldiers like you,” Felixus offers, his tone familiar.
The guard scoffs, his voice sounding weird through his suit’s amplification. “Not much longer with those NeuroLinks, right? Call me backwards, but I refuse to get one. The thought of them messing with my brain like that... No, thanks!”
I suppress a groan, growing impatient, agonizing close to rescuing my Xandor. This tiresome interaction reminds me of my childhood when Kaanus dragged me to his boring trade negotiations.
“True, lad, I told them to shove the procedure up their backsides. What’s the point of winning the war at the cost of losing who we are?” Felixus laments, his lack of urgency making my skin tingle with nerves.
He knows what he’s doing, appearing natural.
“Ah, I feel better knowing even the Magister Machinator shares my opinion. I mean, isn’t this the same voiding path the Fallen took?” The guard elicits a sardonic laugh. “We’ll end up corrupted just like them!”
“You’re right, we all know it, but the Consuls can’t see further than their noses,” Felixus retorts with a disapproving tut before adding. “But I must really get going. This generator needs to be sorted right quick. We’ll catch up again soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” the guard replies, followed by an immense grinding noise punctuated by a deafening clanging. “Farewell, Felixus.”
“Farewell, Tactiux,” Felixus bids, and the container shifts forward again, prompting me to release a long-held breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
A tense moment passes, and I futilely scan the darkness, desperate to learn anything—only finding the edgy breaths of my companions. My heart races with each step, and my hand instinctively reaches for my locket, rubbing it to stave off hyperventilation.
We must be inside the fortress now.
As if in answer, a loud clang echoes behind us, making my back stiffen. “Tactiux is a good friend, but void, he could talk the ears off a jholock,” Felixus whispers through the container.
They both did their fair share of talking!
“We’re inside now,” Felixus mumbles. The sound of his steadying breath does little to calm my nerves. “Just one more checkpoint.”
The container hovers in a smooth motion as my ears strain to hear any clues about our surroundings. The frequent grinding of heavy doors, the hum of hovering drones, and random greetings from passersby send shudders through me. Each peep, each syllable, a heart pounding threat of being discovered—our lives forfeit, Xandor left to die.
“Please follow the designated path,” a soft robotic voice instructs. The rush of compressed air and the squealing whirl of metal grinding against metal signal our continued journey into the heart of the beast. An eerie silence settles in, broken only by our breathing, the low hum of the hover platform, and my pounding heartbeat.
Suddenly, our container jolts to a stop, forcing me to steady myself. “State your business,” a muffled, gruff male voice demands, devoid of the friendliness of the other guards.
“Greeting, soldiers. I’m here to replace a faulty Elerium generator,” Felixus retorts, slapping the container for emphasis. “I’m a bit late, but I’ll have this place up and running again in no time,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Is that right?” The guard replies, unimpressed. My chest flutters with worry as I hear boots scuffing ground and the thud of someone patting our container. “No one’s allowed past this point without the presence of a Custodiae.”
Felixus scoffs, “Since when?”
“Since the Praetorian Prefect decreed it,” the guard retorts. The sound of his words and boots pacing around our container fills me with unease.
“The Praetorian Prefect?” Felixus tuts. “Last time I checked, this is the Imperator’s palace, and we follow his orders.”
“Hold your tongue, Machinator, if you know what’s good for you,” the guard commands in a dark tone.
“This is ridiculous!” Felixus declares, his voice laced with outrage. “I’ve performed hundreds of repairs and installations beyond those walls. Yet now the Praetorian Prefect deems to prevent me, the Magister Machinator, from performing my rightful duties for the Imperator!”
Void, we’re going to get caught!
“I warned you!” The guard retorts, my body shaking with dread. My plan, the entire universe, teeters on the edge of failure. The sound of boots rapidly advancing and the panicked yelp of Felixus jolts me to my senses.
“Don’t hurt, Tiniest!” Quad booms. In a flash, our container door explodes open with a deafening bang. My eyes strain to adjust to the dazzling blue lights. Yet through blurry eyes, I make out Quad charging towards two tiny Nebian who stand stunned, their mouths motioning without a sound.
“Bash!” Quad roars, followed by the sickening crunch as he carries the two guards slamming into the gleaming white polished walls. I come to my senses, leaping out of the container, drawing my laser pistol, scanning the room, and breathing a sigh of relief, upon finding no others.
“This is a bloody nightmare!” Felixus wails, his eyes shifting between Quad and the unconscious guards. “We’re going to be discovered, and we haven’t even reached the control center,” he adds, shaking his head. “Void, we’ll all be shot for this! What are we going to—”
A resounding slap echoes through the long corridor. “Get a voiding grip!” Hyanxa demands, looming over the stunned Felixus, who holds his cheek in shocked silence. “The plan is still solid. We’re just a little further from the control center, right?”
“Yeah...” Felixus mutters, rubbing his cheek. “Yeah, not far.” His voice grows stronger.
“Good job, Quad,” I congratulate the hulking Barlyxian with a pat on his broad shoulder. “Strip these two and help me lock them inside,” I gesture towards the container, which still holds Mod and Job, who now peer outside, their antennae curling round the edges.
“Okay!” Quad bellows, picking up one of the Nebian guards as if he weighed nothing, jingling him aloft. “Bashings fun. Bashings fun,” he hums repeatedly. I turn my attention to the other guard, noticing the same segmented armor Thalaxia wore. Only these carry a rich purple color—the color of the Praetorian Guard.
I holster my pistol in favor of the guard’s laser rifle, turning it over in my hands, adjusting to its weight, testing its sights. Very nice indeed! “Here,” I state, throwing a rifle towards Hyanxa, who catches it midair in a smooth, graceful motion.
“Oh, laser weapons,” Hyanxa purrs, inspecting her weapon as I search the guards, extracting two more pistols, giving them to Mod and Job.
“Now hold on!” Felixus interrupts, his usual bluster returning in full force. “That’s protected, Nebian tech. It’s not for outsiders to use.”
I frown, knowing I’d use every tool, break every sacred law if it meant getting my Xandor back. But it’s Hyanxa who speaks. “Void sake, you expect us to use harsh language, Nebian?”
I grunt, dragging one guard, now stripped down to his polymer underwear, into the darkened container. A yelp escapes me as the other guard is sent spinning over my head like a bag of Nutripaste, thudding into the space with a loud crash. “Easy,” I caution, staring at the proud visage of the beaming Quad.
“What I expected was a quiet, stealthy entry to the control center, not this blockheaded madness,” Felixus adds with a sigh.
“We’ll return all tech after the mission, I promise,” I offer, slamming shut the bolt to the container. “Speaking of tech, put this on.” I toss over the guard’s armor.
Felixus hobbles over, pulling the breastplate over his head, grumbling about how tight it fits. Void, he complains more than Job; it must be a requirement to be an engineer. I continue searching the clothes, hoping to find a pass, a key, anything, but to my chagrin, there’s nothing.
“How do we open this door?” I inquire, gesturing towards the gleaming white barrier with a slit down the center, lacking any apparent terminal or control.
“Let me see.” Felixus approaches, looking silly with his flesh oozing out of his armor. “Must be controlled by NeuroLink. It’s becoming more commonplace.” He grimaces, stroking his orange beard.
“What does that mean? We can’t open it?” I ask, unable to contain my dismay, desperate to find a way, knowing I’m so close to finding Xandor.
“It means only their brains could open it.” Felixus thumbs behind him to the container. “And it seems in our infinite wisdom we’ve bashed them unconscious,” he adds with a lingering look towards Quad, who only nods, smiling.
Void, what should we do? It can’t end like this!
“Hmm,” Mod intones, approaching to run his arm limbs over the smooth metal, ending with a soft knock. “Thick, simple arcweave composites? No?” he turns to Felixus with a tilted narrow head.
Felixus scratches his head. “Not no. Yes, it’s just arcweave, thicker than a Tuskarians arse though,” he answers, looking between me and Mod.
I lock my eyes onto Mod with my heart in my mouth, hoping he has a solution. “Easy!” Mod declares, opening his long polymer coat, extracting a metallic silver jar from a host of filled pockets. “You all stand back. No?”
“Come on.” I usher the others back as hope blooms within me once again. We all take cover behind the container waiting with bated breath. Impatient, I peek to see Mod dousing the door with the silvery liquid. On contact, a sizzling steam bellows outward, followed by a searing noise. I watch in wonder as large chunks of the door turn to liquid before sloshing off like puddles of water.
The vapor drifts towards us, carrying a sharp, stinging scent of molten metal and some unknown harsh chemicals that threaten to choke. “Void, that’s powerful stuff,” Hyanxa states between wracking coughs. I cover my mouth with my wrist, peeking at Mod through the thick gas, worrying he may end up poisoning us all.
Mod applies more liquid, and his form almost disappears between the haze and thick hole he has created. I hope he’s going to be okay. Hyanxa retreats further down the hall, overcome with choking coughs that have her doubled over. Finally, before I decide to join her, Mod arrives, part of his face obscured by a translucent breathing mask.
“Door now has new door. No?” Mod declares, his voice muffled through his mask, with a nod of his thin head.
“Brillant, thanks, Mod.” I pat him on the shoulder, elated and eager to get a move on. Yet the toxic billowing smoke gives me pause. “You always carry an atmospheric filter mask?” I inquire, wishing I had one.
Mod nods. “Indeed, never be certain, might accidentally create nerve agent or viral toxin. No?” He opens his coat, retrieving a handful of translucent atmospheric filter masks. I frown at him, my annoyance bubbling to the surface, conveyed through disbelieving blinks.
“You never thought they might have been useful five minutes ago?” I ask incredulously, reaching to take the breathing masks.
Mod only shrugs, “You never ask. No?”
I waste no time reaching Hyanxa and giving her a mask, hoping she’ll recover before distributing the rest to the others. They all don their masks with ease, except for Quad, who frowns before attempting to place it atop his head, forcing me to adjust it over his mouth. Finally, I equip my mask, relishing the cleaner air devoid of the stinging, choking smoke that once clung to the back of the throat.
Feeling safer, I pass through the hazy fumes, marveling at the cramped tunnel-like hole Mod has created. The sheer thickness of the door astonishes me; it must be at least my height. Pools of melted arcweave have solidified around the entrance, making it slippery to transverse. I beckon the others over before stooping through the tunnel, eager to see what lies beyond.
With my rifle poised, I emerge into another long corridor similar to the previous one, but with rooms leading off at either end further down. Though my breathing is haggard through the mask and my nerves are heightened, I remain alert for any guards, prepared to do whatever’s necessary to save Xandor.
“All clear,” I announce, hearing Felixus coming to join me. The long corridor beckons, and my impatience compels me to move forward.
“Stop!” Felixus cries out, grasping me by my shirt and pulling me to the ground. I yell in shock, the jarring fall stinging my backside and shaking my senses. “This room’s equipped with laser matrices.”
“Lovely,” I declare, raising to rub the ache from my backside. What the void do we do now? The rest of the crew joins us, gazing with suspicion at the walls. I too scrutinize the surroundings, wondering if Felixus is mistaken, seeing no hint of any turrets or devices that could pose a danger—just solid gleaming metal walls.
“Watch this,” Felixus requests, throwing a small bolt down the corridor. I recoil as dozens of red lenses dotted throughout the walls, ceiling, and floor are revealed, each blasting the object with pinpoint accurate laser beams, snuffing it out of existence. Then, in a blink of an eye, they’re gone like they never existed. “Motion sensitive,” he adds during the stunned silence.
“Is there any way to turn it off?” I plead, turning to Felixus.
The Nebian lets out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, the control center on the other side,” he gestures down the corridor.
“Void, we’re so close!” I lament, rubbing my mouth and racking my brain for an answer. “How about we snipe the lenses when they open?”
Felixus shakes his head. “No, too risky. It might set off the alarms. The only reason it hasn’t already is we turned it off because the bloody znats tripped it constantly.” He lets out a soft chuckle.
“I toss Tiniest?” Quad offers, scratching his head and pointing towards Felixus.
“You’ll do no such thing, you overgrown blockhead!” Felixus retorts, glaring down the corridor. “I’ll be shot to pieces unless you can throw me faster than the speed of light.”
Quad rubs his chin in thought before announcing the obvious. “Nope, sorry.”
Do we just risk my idea, the alarms be damned?
“I can run this.” Hyanxa declares, stepping forward, tying her long red hair into a tight knot.
“Run this?” I repeat, disbelief heavy in my tone, hoping she’s not implying what I think she is.
“Yeah, I’ve run gauntlet defenses before,” Hyanxa replies, her gaze shifting to a frown. “Never a laser one, though.” She turns to Job, “You got any junk on you?”
Job nods, pulling out a heaped handful of nuts and bolts.
“Good, that’s more than enough. Right, every time I shout, throw . I want you to toss a bolt down the corridor. Got it?”
Job blinks, his antennae drooping. “But you will expire. Yes?” His tone is surprisingly concerned.
“Not if you don’t screw up. Now throw!” she yells.
Job hesitates for a moment, then nods resolutely before tossing a bolt. The laser grid flares to life, beams blasting the object in a flash. Hyanxa’s eyes dart around the room, her gaze as focused as the lasers themselves. “Faster next time, Job. Any delay and I’ll be looking like a cratered moon.”
“I adjust. Yes?” Job states, straightening his posture, and pre-selecting from his heap of various nuts and bolts.
“Throw!” Hyanxa roars, and this time Job doesn’t hesitate, chucking an object down the corridor of crimson death. As the lenses reveal themselves, obliterating the tiny object, I watch Hyanxa as she mumbles numbers, her gaze shifting between the murderous devices.
This is voiding crazy. She’s going to die!