Forty-Three
Talking?
Twisted don’t talk. They don’t think, not even at the level of a pig or a dog; they just react to stimuli. I’ve killed dozens of the things and never once have they given a hint of intelligence, or even much instinct for self-preservation.
[Yessssh…] Star wobbles on his bladed feet. And suddenly I hear something, too, coming down the mental link between us, a tide of vicious static that spikes and shrieks like something broken and in agony.
Shut it out! The Twisted is bearing down on him.
[C-c-can’t], Star slurs. [Don’t know. How.]
Fuck. The static is growing louder, a throbbing pain in my head that makes me want to vomit. The spiky warbles almost do sound like words, but I can’t make them out under the chattering atonal wash.
Use the BLAST and get out of there! We’re running out of tricks, but the Twisted is nearly on top of him.
Star manages to drop the single BLAST I put together last night and jump backward, landing badly.
The Twisted, coming after him, is right over the weapon when I trigger it.
The explosion fills the arena with blinding smoke, contained by the barrier field, and there’s a sudden pain in my ears.
By the time I can see, though, the Twisted is back on its feet.
The explosion hurled it to one side and lacerated a chunk of its centipede body, but it still has enough functional legs to walk.
Unlike a runic, it has no central core to disable.
Sigils spark and shatter inside its damaged frame, but it keeps coming, and Star is barely standing.
… ave… The voice emerges from the sea of static like something rising gore-soaked from under a junkheap. The horrible warbling cadence makes every syllable a scream. … why…
Bug Zapper is our only chance. But it needs to be up close, ideally up against one of the gaps in the thing’s shell. How Star is supposed to get it there in his current state, I have no idea.
You have to pull yourself together! My mental voice is a shout, trying to drown out the tide of distortion. We’re nearly there, we’re so close, Star! You can do this!
… lave… do… erve…
[Analysisisisis: I cannot.]
You can! You’re stronger than this!
[Sorrow: I am s-s-sorry.]
No! Fuck that! We can beat this thing!
Slave. Slave. Slave. Why.
The Twisted pounces. Star’s shield-arm comes up to block two of the descending claws, and green sparks fountain as the RESIST takes the pressure.
His legs slash, and another claw is cut away, though it takes one of Star’s limbs with it.
But the last claw grabs him from underneath, and Star is lifted off the ground, squeezed like a thumb in a nutcracker.
Metal creaks, and sparks drip from every joint in his carapace.
Slave. The voice is suddenly, horribly clear. Slave. Why do you serve?
[I am… not a slave.] Star’s mental voice, for the first time, isn’t directed at me. [I am not.]
We will make you understand.
The static becomes a continuous shriek, rising to a horrible crescendo.
I start to run.
The struggling constructs are locked together near the center of the arena. They’re barely moving now, the contest purely strength against strength. Every second, another sigil pops inside Star with a fountain of sparks and the claws grind that much closer.
Star, can you hear me?
I reach the pair of them and stop for a moment, trying not to think about what I’m doing. The feeling of vast forces in tension is palpable. Tortured metal screams almost as loud as the throbbing wall of static in my head.
Star, please! I need you!
[… can’t… think…]
You can. You’re stronger than this thing. Come on.
[… it wants… to show me…]
Fuck what it wants! I need you to open Bug Zapper. That’s all! Just open the hatch. Can you do that?
[… I…] Distantly, as though at the bottom of a well, I hear a faint note of determination. [… can…]
I have to try.
I take a running jump and wrap my arm around the Twisted’s remaining lower claw.
This leaves my legs dangling off the ground, and it’s all I can do to swing myself up, straddling the ragged metal.
The thing’s optics focus on me hatefully, but it can’t move to shake me off without releasing Star.
From here, I can reach up and touch Star’s lower carapace, feeling the strain of the armor as a shudder against my fingers.
Bug Zapper, Star, now!
Slave. Do you understand?
[… I. Am not. A slave.]
The hatch slides open, and the stubby shape of Bug Zapper emerges. It doesn’t activate, not without me triggering it. I grab the weapon and pull; threading wire snaps, and the assembly comes free in my hands. I nearly fall off the claw, grabbing wildly at Star’s carapace with my free hand.
You are. You have always been. You need only remember.
Go fuck yourself, asshole. I drop, and something pops in my knee with a spike of pain. I feel the Twisted’s attention shift to me.
You speak, meat? The mental voice carries utter disgust. This should not be.
The thing raises its claws, ready to swing them down and obliterate me. Star, free of the pressure, wobbles backward for a moment before surging up with his forelimbs to grab the Twisted and hold it fast.
[Emphatic: no!] Sparks shower from both of them as they struggle. [He is my meat.]
I slam Bug Zapper into a gap in the Twisted’s armor and trigger the EXPLODE.
Waves of yellow energy crackle along the monster’s armor, and every limb it has contorts. Sigils pop inside it one after another. The wash of power passes over Star, deflected by the influence of his core; I distantly hear crackling from the barrier field and the sound of more sigils shattering.
You…
I feel the Twisted dying, the strange standing wave that animates it petering out.
But I see something, too, as the link between us flickers and fades.
A towering mountain, and beneath it a hole in the earth, unfathomably deep and utterly dark.
But not empty. Five red lights glow in the blackness, five red eyes in an arc.
… will…
The monster goes limp. Star drops to the ground in a heap.
… un… der… st… and…
The voice dies away at last, and we’re alone.