The Last Human IV - 65 - The Turning of the Key

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From this vantage, the twin fleets appeared like a streak of metallic paint smeared across the solar system. No longer could Khadam tell which one belonged to which half of the Sovereign. They occluded the moon, and half the Earth. Missiles carved white lines, and novas of energy exploded across the fleets, creating pockets of the void that only filled in with more machines.

But, it seemed, both halves of the Sovereign had seen the Ark jump from the Earth to the Dam. And now, like twin silver tails, clouds of drones and ships rose from the Earth’s fire-choked atmosphere, and streamed toward the Dam. Small, sub-light corvettes led the pack, each one probably carrying enough warheads to crack the Ark’s damaged hull. But they didn’t fire anything, yet. It wants me alive.

Khadam’s lie had bought the Ark a few more precious minutes. And she would not waste them.

While waiting for the Ark to pull into position over the Dam, Khadam explained her plan. “The Dam’s purpose is twofold. First, it ontains the Scars—keeps them from growing out of control. But it also extracts the Light. Do you see those towers?”

She pointed at the screen, where dozens of massive, black towers were scattered across the Dam’s open petals. The strange, jittering rays of Light from the Scar were pulled toward the towers, and seemed to catch on them, sending rings of alien lightning down their lengths. 

“Where does it go?” the corvani asked. “All that energy?” 

“Normally, its stored on the other side of the Dam. But the Sovereign probably taps it out frequently. So, we’re going to stay on the Scar’s side of the Dam.”

“And tap into the towers manually?”

Khadam was surprised by the feathered xeno’s perception. “You’re a good listener.”

“Well,” he crowed bashfully. 

“The good news is we don’t need to dock.”

“And the bad?” Agraneia asked. She was sitting on the floor, one hand gripping the torn rags of her shirt, like something was broken inside her chest. One glance at her, and Khadam could tell the cyran needed medical attention soon. “What’s the bad news?”

“Someone has to go down there and redirect power from the generators into the Ark.” 

All the xenos in the airlock looked back at the screen, at the complicated majesty of lightning rolling down the black metal steeples of the Dam. Then, they looked at each other, completely at a loss.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Agraneia rumbled. 

“The Key…” Eolh said, more to himself than anyone else.

“Well, unless any of you know anything about short-range Light transmission, CLM filters, or operating non-contact MEAAs?”

The Ark’s speakers crackled as Yarsi started to speak, but Khadam shut her down. “Not you, Yarsi. I need you on the ship. You’ll keep us in position. And when I come back to the ship, I need you to have our jump coordinates already plotted.”

“Are you sure, Khadam?” Yarsi’s amplified voice rolled through the airlock. “We have jumped before, and the Sovereign followed us.”

“Not this time,” Khadam said. “This time, won’t see us leave.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but Khadam couldn’t tell them any more than that. She resisted the urge to look at Agraneia. Instead, she caught the corvani’s pupils boring into her. 

He knew. He could tell that she was holding back. But the plan depended on this. 

Everything depended on this. 

She held her breath. Don’t tell her. Don’t let Agraneia know. 

But Eolh didn’t say anything. Instead, he only gave her a nod.

“Okay,” Khadam said, “Yarsi, move everyone to the shielded decks. Close up everything, full ECEP.”

“Confirmed,” Yarsi said, and Khadam could already feel the shifting of bulkheads and the girding of electronic systems. 

“Move us into position.”

Rays of pure Light snapped and bent around the Ark as it hovered over the Dam. The Scar yawned like a boiling, rainbow lake whose mind-bending depths wanted, furiously, to escape. And the lightning-wreathed towers slid into position below.

“Maker,” Agraneia said, suppressing a cough. “Maker, I would go with you. But I am…” she tried to sit up straight, but started coughing so hard she had to cover her mouth to catch the blood. “I would only fail you. Again.

“Again?” Khadam knelt at the cyran’s side. “Agraneia, I’ve had many friends in this life. Most of them, long gone. But never have I had one that I could lean on like you. Even Rodeiro let me go. But you? You came back. You never failed me.”

The corners of the cyran’s mouth tugged down. There were tears in her eyes, and Khadam didn’t think it was from coughing. So, as gently as Khadam could, she pulled herself toward the cyran and wrapped her arms around the cyrans shoulders. “You,” she looked up at Eolh. “Keep this one safe.”

“Wait,” Eolh cocked his head, “Don’t you need someone on the Dam with you?” 

“This one’s for me.”

The Ark’s control repulsors ignited and shoved the great ship to a hard stop. Khadam slipped into one of the emergency suits from the airlock’s storage (wincing as she shrugged her shoulders into the airtight weave, and put on the helmet). The xenos moved to the staging room, leaving her alone in the airlock. Agraneia was the last to go, supported on Eolh’s shoulder. Before the door slid shut, Agraneia said, “Be swift, Maker. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know you will.”

Then, the airlock opened up. And Khadam jumped. Her suit’s repulsors ignited as she glided down to the Dam. Above her, the silent roaring glow of the Scar flared. And below, around the edge of the Dam’s petals, she could just make out the twin tails of the Sovereign’s fleets, sharp and rising toward her. Still hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, but coming in fast.

Khadam rolled her arms, grimacing as a lance of pain erupted where the Disease was grinding her muscles into dust. She bloomed her repulsors, and soared down to the Dam.

This Dam, unlike so many others, had been maintained to the highest standards. There were no androids here, nor tentacled Historians. Only the Sovereign’s machines, maintenance constructs coated in the same black metal as the rest of the Dam, lurked like overgrown creatures in the shadowed halls and vaulted ceilings. 

Who knew how long they had lived here? Some of them were covered in that strange corrosion that came from dwelling too close to the Light for too long. Their joints scraped and creaked as they huddled in the darkness. The fact that she saw any of them, meant there must’ve been hundreds watching her. Yet, they all stayed at bay once they saw what she was holding. 

Khadam held the negation cube out, like a pilgrim carrying a candle. It glowed, but she kept its destructive power deactivated. If she were to use it inside the Dam, its field would bounce off the Light-reflective walls. The resulting cascade would be lethal—not just to the constructs, but also to her. The only thing keeping her alive, then, was the threat of suicide. 

And so far, it worked. She walked through the machine-infested Dam, unscathed.

Until she got to the elevator. She stepped inside the glass vessel, and as it climbed along one of the lightning-covered towers of the Dam, she gazed out into the Scar’s sparkling depths. It had been a while since she’d seen one this close. A weeping wound to infinity. Beautiful, she thought. The way it moved, ever changing its shape without growing, reminded her of a living thing. And as she stared, and listened, she could almost hear—

Something heavy dislodged from the ceiling and landed with a heavy clank. Five long arms reached for her. She jumped back, and slammed her back against the glass. Her flesh crunched painfully against the diseased calcification. 

“Get back!” she gasped.

The thing lurched, as if it couldn’t make up its mind. It paused, like it was receiving orders from several conflicting sources.

She raised her thumb over the cube, and her voice trembled as she shouted, “Last chance!”

She didn’t know if she meant it. 

The spidery construct retreated into the corner. She held the cube in its direction, and it pressed itself away from her. Then, she noticed the corrosion around its leg joints. Why not? She thought, and grabbed one of its legs, and ripped it free with a satisfying crunch. Wires stuck out of one end, and she grasped them, wielding the leg like a club.

The construct curled up its remaining legs, and eyed her the rest of the journey. Khadam kept the cube outstretched.

The elevator opened on a vast atrium, full of glass-encased turbines brimming with Light. Great, spinning blades sent shining reflections across the atrium. Tendrils of gas formed around the turbines, sparkling as they sank peacefully to the floor. 

A huge window, made of pressure glass, gazed upon the terrifying expanse of the Scar, and the clouds of glittering gas that spewed from its depths, and the bolts of radiant, warped energy. But the Scar’s blazing, transforming brightness was cut in half by a spearhead silhouette, marred by missile craters and missing chunks of hull.

Khadam swept over to the console, still holding the cube in one hand, and activated the transmitters. Three of them answered her call, but only two of them reacted. Great coils beneath the turbines whined as they angled slightly, rolling up toward the ceiling. As the coils hummed, they also darkened, and all the tendrils of gas were suddenly pulled toward them. 

“Khadam,” Agraneia’s voice crackled in her helmet. “Connection confirmed. The Ark is receiving power.” 

Easy part, done.

“Confirmed,” Khadam said.

“How long?”

“Need a moment to make sure the Sovereign doesn’t break anything while she charges.”

Agraneia grunted her affirmation. 

Soon, came the other part. The part that…

That…

Poire did it, she thought. And if he did, then why can’t I? 

But for now, all she could do was wait. And the waiting took an age. 

“We’re rising fast,” Agraneia said. 

“Not yet.” 

It felt like her stomach was turning to ice. She had prepared for this, for something like this, thousands of years ago. Khadam had been so willing to give her life, back then. Back when she thought it would make an actual difference.

Now, all they could do was run. 

But, damn it, she would make them run. The Sovereign didn’t get to have this last victory so easily. Her hands clenched into fists. Her whole body clenched. Come on.

“Khadam, the Swarm. They’re at 10,000 and closing.”

“What’s our reserve?” Khadam asked.

“Just under 1%. Enough.”

Not yet. They needed every chance they could get. 

“Under five thousand. They’re braking. They’re almost here, Khadam. Get back to the ship.” She growled that last part.

“What now?”

“1.5%.”

Good enough. 

Khadam sent an impulse to the Ark. She felt Yarsi confirm her orders. And the Ark started to pull away from the Dam.

“What?” Agraneia’s voice crackled. “Khadam! What about the plan?” 

“This is the plan,” Khadam said.

“No!” Agraneia’s roar ended with a bloody cough. She sucked down air, desperately trying to get the words out, “You said you were going to come back. You have to come back. Khadam.”

“Yarsi,” Khadam said calmly. “Wait until the Dam breaks. Then, take them as far away as you can.” 

“I carry your will,” Yarsi said, over the sounds of Agraneia choking and coughing and screaming. 

Her hands were shaking. And before the cold in her stomach froze her, she strode to the window. And pressed the cube to the window. “Goodbye, Agra.” 

“Khadam!” 

The human thumbed the cube to its highest and lowest setting, and pulled them back together until, intertwined, they overloaded the cube. In an instant, it grew too hot to hold—but not before it let out a singing, piercing screech—and the layers of glass shattered.

The vacuum seized her by the chest and yanked her off her feet. The air was stolen from her lungs, and the laugh from her lips as the void screamed and began to break everything—

Two black walls shot across her view, and slammed together. The pressure dropped Khadam to the floor.

“No,” she said. “No!”

Behind her, all the turbines remained intact. The Sovereign must’ve reinforced the Dam, long before she got here. Her plan was dead. All of them were dead… Unless…

Khadam picked up the spider-drone’s leg, and flung herself at the nearest turbine. Glittering gas still billowed out from its glass-encased blades. She raised her arms, and growled as she brought her makeshift club against the turbine’s glass. Her growl turned into a scream as the crystallized muscles in her back tore her skin open. Warmth trickled down her back, but she didn’t care. She slammed the club against the glass until it cracked. 

Shivering, she slammed the club down again. And again. The glass shattered, and glittering fog plumed out from the turbine, filling the generator room. She laid back, mewling pitifully as the crystallized flesh tore through her suit and blood flowed in a sheet down her back. 

But her work wasn’t done. The Light was volatile, but she needed to bring out more if she wanted to force an overload. Break enough turbines, and it would happen. But it was so damn cold. Finish it, she told herself. This is what you came for. This is why you left everything behind. She tore off her helmet, swallowing down the pain as she forced herself to lurch to the next turbine. With every gasping breath, she inhaled a little more of the gaseous Light. it sank into her lungs, and spread like ice in her veins. 

She raised the club in both arms. And yowled, as some muscle was severed. She felt it snap loose, and her hand went numb, and the club clattered to the floor. Khadam followed it, soon after, knocking her chin hard on the deck. Stunned, she lay there, watching the curls of mist pool on the floor.

“It wouldn’t have worked, you know.” His voice came from everywhere.

Clenching her jaw, Khadam pressed her hand to the floor, and pushed herself up. There was no one else in here.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” He repeated. “Even with better timing, the opened Scar wouldn’t have hidden the Ark’s jump. The Sovereign has been busy these last ten thousand years. Its net extends further than you hoped.”

“Yes,” she spat, and pulled herself up to standing. She leaned heavily on a nearby console, smearing blood on its interface. “But the Sovereign is at war with itself. There was a chance.” 

Poire hummed doubtfully. 

Khadam didn’t know why, but she felt the need to argue with this hallucination, or dream, or whatever this was. “With the Scar unbound, it could have swallowed some of the fleet. Tipped the balance, just enough. And in the chaos…” 

“You hoped to give the Ark time to escape?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe, if the Sovereign’s war was still going.”

“It’s over?”

“When the Ark jumped, Innovation took its chance. It corrupted Domination’s last capital ship, and Domination folded.”

“You don’t know this. You don’t know anything. You’re not real.”

“What would it take to change your mind?”

“Where are you?” she shouted to the ceiling. “If you’re here, then show yourself!” 

“Not time yet.”

She snorted. Blood came out, and she almost choked on it. “Better be quick then. The Swarm is probably all over the Ark by now. Or weren’t you planning on saving us, oh, Divine Savior?” 

“I am,” he said. “But I need your help.”

“To do what?”

“Destroy the Dam.”

“And then what? I thought you said it wouldn’t have worked.”

“It wouldn’t have. Not for long. All the Dams—all of them—are guarded. The Sovereign has been busy. With nowhere left to turn, the Ark would have flung itself across the void, and attempted to land on a hospitable planet. But all the known ones, too, are watched.”

Khadam had feared this to be the case. In her deepest thoughts, she had known this. Somehow, she had hoped, the Ark might be able to fall off the Sovereign’s radar, or to run further—but she had known that the Sovereign would be waiting.

“Where, then? Where should they go?”

“Tell Yarsi to prepare her engines. Face the Dam. And tell them to go into the Scar.” 

“Are you insane?”

“I found the Way, Khadam,” He pleaded. “It’s you. You are the key I’ve needed. And the Way will be Opened.”

“Are you,” she repeated, “insane?”

“Such a deceptively simple question has such a dreadfully complicated answer. I have the time, Khadam, but I’m afraid you don’t.” 

“Then what are you?”

Sorrow laced his words. “I am what we always feared I would be. I am what I will be forever, unless you help me. Please, Khadam. Listen to me. The Way will open.”

It sounded like him. Somehow, it felt like him. Had she really lost so much blood that she was hallucinating? No, it must be the Light. The Scar was peeling her mind. Khadam brought one hand to her shoulder, trying to warm her flesh. The other one hung limp at her side.

It was over. There was nothing left she could do, so why not? Why not take comfort in this mad vision at the end of her life? She had always liked Poire, anyway. She would never tell him, but she always found it inspiring, the way he refused to give up. Stubborn. Brave. Selfless, to a fault.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can.”

“No. I can’t. Even if you were right about the dam, I can’t do anything, Poire. I’m—” her voice caught as she stumbled toward the truth no one wants to hear. “I can barely stand. And you’re asking me to break the other turbines?”

“Oh, no,” He said. “That wouldn’t open the Scar nearly fast enough.”

“Then what?” 

“Tell them to go into the Scar.”

“You would have me kill them?”

“I will open the Way.”

“The Scar will break the Ark. The Scar will tear it open. The Scar is death.”

“And what remains for them here?” Poire asked, his voice as strong as stone, as inevitable as a storm.

But it was madness. Was it not better for the xenos to take their chances and flee across the Stars? Perhaps they’d get lucky, and the Sovereign would lose track of them before they ran out of power. Better to waste away the last of their days aboard that ship, running to the dark places of the universe. 

And then … ?

What hope was there? Yarsi had her memories, but she was tied to the Ark. When it died, the last of humanity died with her. 

So, then. Perhaps, mercy was the last, greatest gift. 

Or perhaps… 

“Poire?” she asked. “How do I know if it’s really you?” 

“Do you remember when we first spoke?”

“You were a child.”

“You thought I was the Destroyer.”

“Everyone did,” she said, defensively. “But you weren’t what we thought you were. You challenged everything we believed. You gave up everything. And I’m… I’m sorry. For everything that happened to you.”

“I’m not,” He said. “And I never will be. You trusted me once, Khadam. I’m only asking you to do so, again.”

Khadam licked her cracked lips, and tasted metal. It wasn’t just from her implants.

“You’ve seen everything?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you know how this ends.”

Here, he laughed. And for a moment, he sounded just like the young boy she had met, so long ago. “No, Khadam. I don’t know at all.” 

Khadam took a shivering breath. Then, she crawled over to her helmet, and opened the connection to the Ark. 

Agraneia’s voice crackled through, “Khadam? Are you there?”

“Agra,” Khadam said. “Tell Yarsi—into the Scar. Take the Ark into the Scar.”

Taxed to her limits, Khadam fell back against one of the glass-encased turbines. The helmet fell from her fingers, with Agraneia’s protests still issuing out in tiny crackling fits.

“Don’t think they’re going to listen,” Khadam said.

“Soon, you’ll give them a reason. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Fine,” she mumbled to the voice that wasn’t really there. It was getting hard to keep her eyes open. 

“Stay alert, Khadam. I need you to direct it.”

“Direct what—?” Before she finished the question, she felt it. 

Tendrils of mist snaked along the floor, and twined around her arms. “What is this?” she asked, and when her mouth opened, the tendrils reached up and poured down her throat. So cold and sharp she couldn’t even scream. 

The crystalline patch between her shoulders shifted at first. And then, rippling bursts punctured the skin on her back, and she did scream. 

“I know,” Poire said. “It has to hurt. And you have to guide it.”

The Light was eating her from the inside. Her veins darkened, like ink running in spider webs down her wrists. On the backs of her hands. And all she could think was why? Why is he doing this to me? Her throat was raw. Her back was on fire. As she bent forward, she felt something behind her scrape painfully against the turbine’s glass. 

“It wants to live, Khadam. Tell it how. Use it.”

Spines grew out of her back. The veins in her arms thickened. But Poire was right. It was alive, and as it invaded her body, so too did a kind of strength. 

An ancient strength, one that had waited through endless eons to meet its end (its beginning) here, in her death. 

Like an impulse to her machines, she sent out the thought. Telling it to how to grow. Obsidian vines burst from her skin, intertwined with her muscle and bone. Empowering her to rise to her feet once more. And as she stood, a wet, ripping sound marked two new growths, black ridges rising from either side of her upper spine. Sail-like wings grew from the ridges, stretching until they were longer than her body—and longer still. Each one clattered with dozens of long thorns, illuminated with alien, geometric patterns that glowed with Light.

The wings weighed nothing to her. In fact, she weighed nothing. As she floated to the center of the atrium, all the unstable mist drew toward her. And she sent another impulse, and the thorns on her wings speared out. They pierced through the walls and the floors. They shattered the glass around the turbines, and carved through the spinning blades. And as they drank from the stores of Light, they grew longer. 

The pain was unbearable. And yet, she bore it. 

The truth was unbelievable. And yet…

Her thorns grew beyond the atrium. With a flick of her mind, they carved great gashes in the black, shield doors, opening the room to the void. And the Light from the Scar crept in. 

Her eyes wept a glittering, rising mist. And she could see Him, watching her from the Scar. Oh, how she could see Him. When she spoke, her breath came out as mist. “Is that you?” she asked. “Is that really you?” 

“Khadam,” He spoke. The Herald. The Destroyer. The Savior Divine. “I am here.”

Once, it had been her nightmare. But now, his face was as sweet and familiar as an old, favorite dream. Khadam extended her good arm to the floor, and one of her spines shot out, spearing the helmet. She caught it, and spoke to the xenos on the Ark.

“Did you think I was divine?” Khadam shouted, her throat full of blood. “I am no god! But listen to me, children of humanity—take the Ark into the Scar, and you will find your Savior!”

The spearhead silhouette soared overhead, headed towards the irridescent wound in the void. Thousands of machines trailed in the Ark's wake, closing in. 

Khadam let out a shriek—not of pain, but of pure, absolute joy. All the spines on her wings shot out, growing into columns of glittering, black stone. They twisted and flailed and flowed like the arms of some primordial, alien being. They grew across the miles, cutting easily through the black metal of the Dam. Towers broke off the superstructure, and the petals of the disc cracked free.

Imprisoned no more, the Scar blazed to life.

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