REVENANT

  I plunge forward in quick bursts and jumps, using my magnetic boots to keep my footing as the ship continues to accelerate underneath me. Ahead of me, Parallax twirls her staves. She throws one, then the other. They spin through the air toward me.

  I duck under one and veer sideways to avoid the other. I make a horizontal slash with my claymore. I'm only half surprised when it phases through Parallax's body as two more copies of Parallax split off from the point of my attack.

  A flash of green appears to one side of me—the white-haired Corsair from before, drawing a sword with a green, glowing edge, coming at me with a backhand swipe. I deflect the blade with my own. At the point of contact, a green energy pulse starts to travel along the width of my claymore, looking like sickly green veins pulsing dangerously.

  That can't be good.

  I leap back, putting some distance between me and the Corsair and that deadly blade. I summon my mounted shoulder turrets, still synthesizing Salvo and Blast, making my turrets shoot little yellow shots of piercing plasma. The turrets open fire at the many copies of Parallax that are continuing to multiply, rushing back and forth around me. The blasts phase through one hologram after another with little to no effect.

  The problem is, I can't go all out just yet. If I do, I'm going to tear up this ship and kill everyone on board. That's the last thing I want at this point.

  There's a loud hissing sound coming from my claymore. The green nanotech poison is traveling into the handle of the sword itself. I can't let it touch me. I deactivate the sword and chuck it, sending it spinning over the side of the ship.

  Rather than taking the time to rebuild the sword again, I start Printing throwing knives and chucking them. They pass through Parallax's holograms, one after the other, their blades catching the roof of the ship and planting themselves there with loud thunks, until there are dozens of knives jutting from the roof of the ship all around me, arrayed like metal crosses in a floating cemetery.

  Still, the holograms continue to flit and weave around me, purple plasma staves coming at me from every direction. There’s no way to know which ones are real and which are the fakes. I sidestep all of them, occasionally directing my shoulder turrets to shoot at them. If the bullet phases through it, then I know it’s one of the fakes.

  One of the bullets makes contact with an airborne staff. It explodes in a crackling orb of purple energy. I scan for the source of the thrown staff. It could have come from twenty different moving targets, identical versions of Parallax, all of them leaping and dodging different directions, their long, rippling capes making a kaleidoscope of intense visual stimuli.

  I Print a spear. The shape of it is far from orthodox. The haft is about fifteen feet long. The blade itself is twenty. Slim and razor sharp.

  I jump, letting the momentum of the ship’s flight carry me backward along the length of the roof, toward the large cluster of holograms. I swipe with the spear, the blade passing through dozens of Parallax holograms all at once. Until one of them twitches and falters.

  No, not a hologram. It’s her.

  The holograms blink a couple times, then disappear. All of them.

  Parallax falls, sliding sideways across the roof, gripping her leg. I must have nicked her there.

  I rush toward her, brandishing my spear.

  Parallax tries to get up, but falls back down again. Bright sparks fly up from her injured leg. She’s trying to heal herself, and quickly.

  “It’s not personal,” I say, yelling to be heard over the wind. “It’s just what I have to do. You’ve got something I need.”

  She looks up at me. Only her eyes and forehead are visible, with the mask hiding the rest of her face. But there’s a fire there, in the eyes. Even now she’s defiant. Unyielding.

  As she should be. That’s Parallax, for you. Fierce. Indomitable. To the very end.

  I’ll make it quick. For her.

  As I’m about to strike the killing blow, the white-haired Corsair rushes in from the side.

  I sidestep, putting distance between us, shooting at her with my turrets and swiping with my spear.

  She dodges the initial salvo of bullets, with a surprising burst of speed. She ducks under the spear, slicing the haft with her green sword and chucking the blade of the spear away.

  Not exactly ideal.

  I could swear she wasn’t this fast before.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The turrets are still firing. The Corsair weaving around the arcs of the bullets, like a mirage, trying to get in close to me. Meanwhile, I’m trying to Print a new set of handguns.

  Finally, one of the turret shots hits the Corsair dead in the chest. Not a moment too soon.

  Only, the bullet passes right through her. She flickers, and now there are two more of her on either side of where she used to be. Both of the mirror images hold up one hand, and for a split second, my sensors pick up the minute glint of hardlight threads attached to one of those hands, connected to one of those fingers.

  No way. When did she—

  I hear the whoosh of a plasma staff behind me, just before it hits me in the back and explodes.

  For a second, my feet leave the metal surface. And that’s all it takes. Suddenly the roof of the ship is spinning in a circle around me, parallel to me, getting further and further away.

  I can’t afford to fly away from the ship. I might survive the fall, but I’ll lose the fight for the Super Fortress. The Protectorate will win.

  And that’s not gonna happen.

  I Print something quick and simple, a rod with a bladed prong, shaped like a scythe. I swing, catching the surface of the ship. The prong slices a long line down the length of the hull, the whine of sheared metal piercing my ears.

  The prong catches again, coming to a stop, and I use the leverage to get my feet back on the roof, my boots magnetically attaching again. I smell smoke. I hear fizzes and sparks coming from my back as I redirect some of my Nanobit resources, patching up the burn.

  Ahead of me, Parallax brandishes a purple staff in one hand and a green sword in the other. The white-haired Corsair gets to her feet, standing in the spot where I believed Parallax had been injured and downed only a couple of seconds ago. What a little trickster.

  I hold out my hands, starting the process of printing those handguns all over again. Meanwhile, I can feel the recoil of my shoulder turrets with each blast as I try to hit Parallax where she stands. Parallax spins her purple staff, deflecting the shots away. She leaps into the air, letting the momentum of the ship carry her toward the back where I am. She makes one quick intervening hop with her foot, crossing the rest of the distance, and lashes out with the green blade.

  No time for anything fancy. In the last fraction of a second, I print a long metal spike and plant it in the hull of the ship, then sidestep, dodging the arc of the green blade. The spike hits Parallax in the abdomen, impaling her. A fast print job, almost instantaneous. Crudely done. Very energy inefficient. Only possible thanks to my Overcharge. But definitely worth it.

  She drops both the sword and the staff, and off they go, spinning into the sky. She gasps, beginning to slide down the length of the spike, which widens toward the base. She leaves a slick film of blood with her descent, grabbing onto the spike to slow herself, but it’s no use. She continues to slide down, leaving a film of slick redness behind her on the metal.

  I step around in front to face her, summoning a rapier—like the kind Razor used to use.

  “I didn’t plan this, you know?” I say. “For you to die at the hand of Razor’s protocol. But it does have a bit of ironic flair, doesn’t it?”

  No response. Only the tinny echo of her labored breathing behind the mask. Slowly, she raises her eyes to look at me.

  “Any last words? Come on, say something. Damn it. After all this time, you’re not even going to say anything?”

  I grab onto her mask, pressing the button just under the jaw. There’s a hiss as the mask comes away from her face and clatters on the hull, tumbling away.

  I risk a quick glance in the direction of the white-haired Corsair. She’s frozen, staring at me, no idea what to do.

  I turn back to Parallax. Her eyes are closed, head bowed.

  “Look at me.”

  I grab her chin, turning her face toward mine.

  “You don’t get to revise history,” I say. “You don’t get to pretend that you’re a victim, that this is some tragedy. Not after everything you’ve done.”

  “You mean,” she says softly, meeting my gaze, “everything you’ve done.”

  A silence. Calm. A kind of calm, anyway. In the distance, bright flashes dot the sky—missiles being fired by the Corsairs, aiming at the bright light that is the HERALD, still making its way through the air toward us. Artifice is still trying to hold it off. At least, I think Artifice is probably up there in those ships. She always did prefer the bird’s-eye view.

  I have to end this.

  No more time for goodbyes. No more time to try and make sense of what has been. There is only the future.

  I hold up the rapier. I slash her throat.

  Only…no. Something’s stopping me.

  It’s Silas, standing there in jeans and a flannel jacket, grabbing the blade of the rapier and holding it, acting as a barrier between me and Parallax.

  In a sense, this is a version of Silas I’ve never seen before. Not the wandering, adrift boy I’m familiar with. The one who’s always trying to figure out what his part is in everything. This one is self-assured. Fierce. Grounded.

  But how?

  “Stay out of this, Silas.” Parallax cocks her head at me, confused. I ignore her. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “That’s just it,” Silas says.

  He takes a step forward, pushing me easily. I lean forward, digging my heels into the hull as I slide backward bit by bit.

  “Everybody keeps saying we’re different. But we’re not. Those people in the freezer, they’re not just your friends. They’re mine, too. The things you did? I did them. Even if I can’t remember, right now.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. I’m losing control. I can feel it, like the strings of a kite slipping through my fingers. I have to put him back. Put him in his place. “Look at what you’re doing. We are not the same.”

  “Of course, we are.” He smiles, sadly. “You’re me. Just a little ways down the line, is all. Everything you’ve done, I’m capable of doing, too. I don’t want to push you away, Rev. I want to understand you. Just like I want to understand myself.”

  This is getting out of hand. He’s getting stronger. More…solid.

  That’s not supposed to happen. None of this is supposed to be happening.

  With an immense effort I push forward, causing him to take a step back.

  “You’re going to doom us all,” I say. “You think you can defeat the HERALD!?”

  “Sure,” Silas says. “I’ve got you.”

  “No!” I push again, but he holds firm this time. I’m losing control.

  He pushes in close, reaching out and grabbing my shoulder with his free hand. “It’s not just you. And it’s not just me. It’s both of us. Together, we can do this.”

  “Do what!?”

  His gaze is intense, serious. “Save the world.”