Orson felt the noise of the thought-breaker when the cell door opened. The sound bounced between the tight cell walls and vibrated through his face, always changing pitch.

Aneirin was an older man, his black hair and beard streaked with white. He had long fingers and very blue eyes. He sat against the far wall, the side of his face pressed down against his bed. He turned toward Allbrook and spoke in a lilting tongue, both long vowels and quick sounds in the back of his throat.

Allbrook replied, his speech stilted and slow as he searched for words in what Orson assumed was Manx. Allbrook stepped down into the cell, but did not approach the man. He traced his hands along the interior of the doorway.

“We need to find the source of the sound,” Allbrook said. “Could any of your gear locate it, Gregory?”

“I don’t want to take the time to scan this place,” Orson said. “And slicing the cell apart won’t be the safest thing. Will he let you help him from the room?”

Both had another exchange in Manx. Then Aneirin sat up. Allbrook approached the older man, let him wrap his arm over his shoulders. They stood together. Aneirin winced as they walked. Orson gave them space, moving away from the cell doorway.

Aneirin clung to Allbrook like a shipwreck survivor stranded on debris or driftwood. They exited the cell and Orson shut the door behind them.

The reverberating noise stopped.

Aneirin shuddered again. Then he spoke, longer this time. At first, his voice quavered, but his words sounded stronger, the more he spoke. Allbrook answered, still hesitant.

“They took his tools,” Allbrook said, in English. “They took his coins and his candle and… a scepter, maybe? I’m not certain.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know where they have his things,” Orson said.

Both spoke.

“He knows the way,” Allbrook said.

“He can sense his stuff?” Orson asked.

“Yes.” Allbrook gestured down the hallway. “He says, ‘go east’.”

“I wish I could sense where I leave my stuff,” Orson said. “I wouldn’t lose so much crap. Alright, you tell him to lead the way, and we’ll get back what they stole from him.”

But then Orson’s HUD caught a blurry mass of red, far down the passage, through the next pair of double doors.

“Company again.” Orson raised both sword and lantern. “And a lot of it. We might’ve tripped something getting him out of there. Or I guess it might be some of our people.”

“No.” It was Aneirin who spoke. Orson looked back at the man. He’d removed his arm from Allbrook’s shoulder and stood firm on his own feet. Then he walked ahead and stood beside Orson.

“Looks like he does know a little English,” Orson said. “How do I tell him to be careful? I mean, does he know the armament those troopers carry? He might be safer behind me.”

The red, living blur grew closer in Orson’s HUD.

Allbrook again spoke in Manx. But Aneirin did not reply. He only walked further ahead, both hands raised toward the far doors.

The doors opened. Liberty Corps troopers ran through, firing. Orson’s HUD filled with warnings.

CHEST SHOT – 30% HEAD SHOT – 11%

KNEE SHOT – 5%

All the bolts of blaster fire exploded in midair. They popped like overfilled balloons and exploded with sounds like firecrackers. All of them burst midway down the hall, still many feet away. The passage filled with a burning light.

INSTANT FILTER OVERLOAD WOULD YOU PREFER DEFENSIVE COLOR GRADING?

Orson winced away from the glare. He heard Allbrook yell behind him.

But Aneirin walked ahead. There was the sound of more blaster fire and more firecracker explosions. The old man continued on. He vanished into the blaze.

Orson waited for his HUD to adjust, to darken for the glare. The light was still too bright, not merely an afterimage, but sustained illumination, like a high-lumen spotlight, that hovered in the center of the corridor. With Orson’s HUD darkened, the light was impenetrable, but no longer painful.

“I can’t see,” Allbrook said.

“I can now.” Orson stayed in front of him. Stay where you are, and I’ll cover you. Let’s hope your friend knows what he’s doing.”

There were noises from the standing light, yells and shouts that did not sound like the old man. There were other noises, crashing or falling. And there was the repeating, distinct sound of breaking bone.

Orson watched the light until it began to fade away. It dimmed like a slowly dissipating afterimage, smaller and smaller.

When the hallway came back into view, it was filled with the bodies of Rifle Troopers and Blades Troopers. Some lay as if sleeping. Others were clearly dead, their bodies twisted in strange and agonized contortions.

Only one trooper still stood. He held a long electrified pike in both hands, pointed at Aneirin. It sizzled when it struck out against him.

Aneirin let the pike take him across the shoulder. He yelled, but he didn’t fall away from the pain.

Aneirin lashed out. He pressed his hand to the man’s helmet. The plasteel cracked and shattered apart like an egg. Orson saw the shock and sudden fear in the trooper’s eyes.

Then Aneirin struck out again. He drove his fingertips into the man’s now-exposed face.

Orson heard another horrible crack of breaking bone. The Blades Trooper fell.

Aneirin fell too. He sagged sideways against the wall, laughing and shouting. Allbrook shouted back.

“He says with his tools that would have been much simpler,” Allbrook said. “He would’ve asked you for your… I don’t know what he’s saying. He’s complimenting the torch, I think he’s calling it, the red object you’re carrying. He says it’s lovely work, and… Now I have no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe I misunderstood a phrase, but I believe he says she must love you very much. And he says that he would need to know you very well to ask for a touch of warmth from it. You are a lucky man. Does that make sense to you?”

“It does,” Orson said. “I was lucky. Lucky and stupid. Please thank him for his words and his help.” Allbrook said more. Aneirin began to reply, but the words caught in his throat, as if close to tears.

“He says he wants to go home,” Allbrook said.

“Then he can lead us to his stuff.” Orson started down the hall toward the man, but he didn’t go far before he saw another faint trace of red. It was nothing like the mass of the earlier attackers, but it was undeniable motion and life. “Wait. Someone’s coming.”

“Yes,” Aneirin said. And he said more in Manx, but he did not rise from the wall.

“Not Liberty Corps,” Allbrook said.

And when the doors opened, it was a single jumpsuited prisoner. The new arrival was a tall man who approached with both hands raised.

“Captain Gregory!” the newcomer called. “Captain Gregory, I need your help. I have more beings in need of rescue. I don’t want them to be overlooked.”

“Who are you?” Orson called back. “Who’s being forgotten?”

“I am Doctor Maurice Velye,” he said. “The nonhuman biological enigmas are still caged. I am kept here as their caretaker, and I have a plan to free them, but I need help.”

“Are you two okay visiting the lost and found without me?” Orson nodded to Allbrook. “Your friend seems okay to take care of you both. How are your eyes?”

“My sight’s returning.” Allbrook then said more in Manx. “Yes, we’ll find his belongings together. I believe we’ll be fine.” Aneirin stood from the wall.

“Great,” Orson said. “I hope you stay safe and our paths cross again. Alright, Doctor. Lead the way.”

* * *

The second set of elevator doors opened, facing the Pinnacle’s outer wall.

Enoa saw daylight again. She saw the square, outer windows from the inside.

A two-note siren sounded, blasting down from overhead speakers. It repeated endlessly, echoing along the corridor.

“I’ll see if we’re okay.” Enoa stepped out into a long passage, wide enough for multiple lanes of automobile traffic. This corridor ran straight along the building perimeter.

“It looks okay out here.” Jaleel followed behind her.

Enoa sensed no imminent attack. She kept close to the wall and scanned the area. The corridor was empty of the control panels and the monitors that lined many of the interior hallways.

She saw thin, trolley-like tracks that ran down the center of the passage. She saw a series of tall metal canisters that stood along the window-side wall.

She saw a row of crushed bodies in shattered Liberty Corps armor.

Enoa recognized the metal loop, crowned with axe heads, lying feet from the flattened white-armored Shaper who’d wielded it. She recognized the wide iron shield, now dented and broken in two, lying beneath several more bodies. Some troopers were face down, as if struck from behind. Others lay on their backs, breastplates caved in.

This was the very force that had chased them, floors lower. Their pursuers had arrived ahead of them. The troopers were killed before their elevator reached the perimeter.

“How did they get around us?” Enoa asked. “Who did…”

But Jaleel suddenly seized her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back toward the elevator.

Something solid flew past them. It struck the far wall with force enough to shake the floor beneath them. Everyone yelled.

Enoa reeled and looked back toward the bodies and toward the origin of the attack. But Jaleel still had a grip on her arm. He dragged her back over the threshold and into the elevator.

“What was that?” Kol asked. A blue field appeared at the front of the elevator car. “I didn’t feel any Shaping.”

“I didn’t either,” Enoa said. “But maybe it’s too noisy to notice it, like Max said.”

“Maybe it wasn’t magic,” Jaleel said. “The dead guys looked like they were hit like bowling pins. I saw the thing flying at us, but I don’t know what it was. It was like a big chunk of concrete. They have knights here. Maybe they’ve got catapults.”

“Can you sense anything now?” Dr. Stan asked. “Perhaps they’re…”

“Not a Shaper!” Max’s shout sounded muffled from the mostly-closed cart, but he swung open the side door beside him. “There are other enigmas held here! It isn’t a Shaper!”

“Other enigmas?” Kol asked. “What do…”

Another projectile soared down the hall. It was a blur of dark motion, but as big around as Enoa’s whole body.

The projectile came to a sudden perfect stop in midair and fell to the floor directly outside the elevator. It struck the floor with force enough to rattle them inside the elevator and make the lift car wobble ominously in the chute.

It did look like concrete, pale gray and solid, but with smaller, dark stones scattered across its surface. It wasn’t smooth, but it was round, rounder than almost any natural rock Enoa had seen.

When the wobbling ceased, Enoa heard a soft, padding footfall approach them.

“I haven’t seen this before.” A voice called from out of sight. “Third mystery. Defensive. Not genetic. Most of the men I’ve been killing have been so simple.” She spoke in a mocking sing-song voice. “Look at my great strength. Look at what I can make with iron. Fear me!”

A woman walked into view. She wore a prisoner jumpsuit, torn at the arms and the ankles. Rounded flaps of cloth dangled from her calves, like she’d torn the feet away from a pair of onesie pajamas. Strips of shredded cloth also dangled from destroyed sleeves, some tangled beneath her bare forearms. Her white hair was long and matted. The tips of her fingers were raw-red and dripping blood.

“We aren’t Liberty Corps.” Enoa pulled the helmet from her head. “We’re trying to escape too! We’re Orson Gregory’s crew! Let’s all show her who we are.” Jaleel and Dr. Stan removed their helmets. Kol did too, slowly. He pulled it away with just his prosthetic hand, the muscles in his flesh hand still visibly tight with his mental strain.

Enoa continued. “Orson’s the—”

“I know who he is,” the woman said. “Loud. Very, VERY loud. How do I know you’re not lying? Something about you seems extremely familiar. And by the look of you, I’ve been here since you were shitting your diapers. I haven’t seen many little girls here.”

“I’m Enoa Cloud,” she said. “I’m the niece of Sucora Cloud, who defected—”

“Defected and left so many of us behind,” the woman said. “I know her. I met her. And you do look like her, but...” She took a long breath, inhaled through her nose. “I know lots of ways to see without seeing. There’s something familiar, not smell or—”

“Ma’am,” a deep voice called from out of sight. “Ma’am, we’re preparing to proceed, and we’d appreciate your assistance.” A man came into view, also a prisoner. He had a blonde crew cut and a large pack across his back.

“I’m deciding,” the woman answered. “Are they Liberty Corps or are they not?”

“We’re not!” Jaleel said. “And I don’t care how many rock chunks you throw around. You’d still be in your straight jacket onesie if we weren’t here!”

“Jaleel,” Dr. Stan said. “Perhaps not.”

“No.” Enoa remembered herself. The morning had worn on her resolve. Her expanding senses, Sir Rowan, their escape – the Shaping was wearing on her, even after all her recent training. “Jaleel is right. Kol is going to lower his shield in a second. Are you going to work with us, whoever you are? I don’t believe my aunt left you behind, but I will, if you try to fight us after everything we’ve already been through.”

The woman laughed. She clapped her hands together, ignoring both the Aesir crew and the other prisoner waiting for her.

“I’m Doryssa Melanthymos,” she said. “And maybe you are like Sucora. I hope so. You can threaten me all you like, but there are dozens of Liberty Corps fighters flying between us and freedom. Are you up to that fight, Cloud girl?”

* * *

Orson followed Dr. Velye deeper into the Pinnacle’s labyrinthine passages. The corridors widened when they left the detention area behind them. The sounds of explosions and shouts and blaster-fire also passed far away, soon limited to distant rumbles and vibrations, almost beyond hearing.

“Three-quarters of our guard contingent departed after your announcement,” Velye said. “That allowed me to slip away. If the remaining guards can be subdued or… There is a hangar with carrier hovercraft to transport the organisms in our care. Without our guard, we may all be able to escape that way.”

“Do you have pilots?” Orson asked.

“Yes. I ask for your help only in solving our guard problem and in helping me free the shellcraft.”

“That name rings a bell,” Orson said.

“The shellcraft is a living organism,” Velye explained. “Very, very large, slightly bigger than an average blue whale. Through a complex respiratory system and a unique carapace, this entity is capable of surviving and even living in outer space. Picture a tortoise’s shell that can pressurize against vacuum. She has been imprisoned here in this base for decades, since her rider, one of the Evorat – if that name means anything to you – was killed in combat with League of Nations operatives.”

“This is a living spaceship?” Orson asked. “And you want me to set it free? Is that the gist of it?”

“Precisely.” Velye left the main passage, taking a tight, branching route. Two pairs of double-doors sealed behind them.

“Listen, I have major issues with the Hierarchia secretly holding anything prisoner for decades,” Orson said. “But who’s to say this space turtle won’t want to rampage around to avenge its rider. I’ve caused a lot of problems by accident, because I didn’t have a full understanding of what was going on. I don’t need to add ‘giant monster rampage’ to that list.”

“I could not be more certain,” Velye said. “This organism – this animal, I know her.”

“Her?”

“All the vessel shellcraft are female. It is the internal pouches where females of their species carry their young, where their Evorat riders occupied and where the steering took place with modified specimens.”

“So first her rider forced her to fly him around,” Orson said. “Now the Hierarchia held onto her for all these years. Alright. If you say she won’t go on a rampage, unless she wants to fight the Liberty Corps, I’ll take you at your word.”

“I am sure. She knows who her captors are. I cared for her for the League of Nations. Now I am Baron Helmont’s prisoner, and I still care for her. I have spent more waking moments with Earhart than I have with my own children. When she says she only wants to go home, I believe her.”

“When she says?” Orson asked.

“We are coming to it now,” Velye said. “I believe you will understand when you see her.” He gestured to the far end of the corridor and more sealed doors. “Two other lead scientists, six assistants, and now likely only four guards.”

“Are all of you researchers in agreement about this escape?” Orson asked. “Or will any of them be taking potshots at me too?”

“We are agreed.”

“And these other animals, or whatever you want to call them, that you’re caring for, what are you going to do with them?” Orson walked no farther. “Are they getting carted off to some other government for study? Choose one jailer for them over another?”

“We’ll free those we can,” Velye said. “Many of them have genuine ecosystems in this world. Hidden places, and not well documented, but natural. The others we will attempt to care for ethically, those made or bred by the Hierarchia. You surprise me, Captain. I expected I’d need to persuade you, that these living things also deserve freedom. I planned to use diversion as an argument, if you didn’t see their value.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Orson said. “I’m happy for any diversion, but my crew has a pet aeropine, a flying porcupine. It would be awful for him to be here, so I get it. And I’m not a fan of the Hierarchia owning lives. And I’m no fan of new governments making new Hierarchias.”

Velye nodded. “I take it you will be able to defeat the guards?”

“These guards, will there be any that are Shapers or enigmas themselves, any with rare physical training or tricky combat knowledge?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then if my luck holds, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

* * *

“I’m Master Sergeant Geoffrey Hale.” The man with the heavy pack directed them back along the perimeter hallway. “Pacific Alliance Marines. Right now, I’ve got everybody preparing to fight our way over to those skimmers Gregory says you’ve got waiting. We have fifty people, give or take, and with more folks showing up all the time.”

Enoa saw Melanthymos watching her as Kol and the crew filed in behind Sergeant Hale. The woman didn’t stop staring even when noticed.

“Familiar,” Melanthymos said again.

Enoa did not reply, instead taking up the rear of the procession through the perimeter hallway.

“That baron put most of his troops right on the edge,” Hale said. “I think he was sure we’d all run for it and get mowed down. Now we didn’t do that – good call on Gregory’s part – and Helmont’s pulling more and more of them back inside. By our count, they’ve only got double our number at the unloading area.”

“There’s no way down from the dock unless you have a ship,” Jaleel said. “Helmont doesn’t know how we got here! He doesn’t know about the skimmers!”

“Must not,” Hale said. “But that leaves us with the problem of the Saw-wings. We’ve got nothing stronger than these blasters, except Ms… Melanthymos, right?”

“You’re correct,” she answered. “I need uninterrupted time to work. I need the right materials to strike down a fighter like that.”

“Are there more enigma people here that we can recruit?” Jaleel asked. “With projectile powers or ranged attacks?”

“Only Ninth-Level Clearance will have access to all data about prisoners,” Max called from the cart. Hale turned back toward the sound of the voice.

“That’s a good way to say we don’t know,” Melanthymos said. “Yes, Hale, our new friends have a man in a box who shouts information at them.”

“Glad to hear he’s a living man,” Hale said. “Farem and his cellmate promised to take the other guy home or take his body home. Tough promise to keep here, but…” He shrugged.

Ahead, a cluster of armed prisoners gathered at the far end of the perimeter corridor. Three carts of the sort that carried Max waited between them. Two stood open, stacked full with weaponry and rations and unmarked, black packing cases.

There was a door to their right, an outer door, but it was blocked shut, barricaded by chairs and a heavy metal desk.

“Even more Saw-wings, Sarge!” A woman called as they approached. “Forty-eight now.” She pointed to another woman, holding what appeared to be a handheld periscope, that stretched from her hands and face all the way up to one of the narrow windows.

“Damn,” Hale said. “Helmont got wise. We might’ve missed our chance. No way we can take a cable down to the surface with those ships.”

“How many could you fit on the Aesir?” Kol looked back at Enoa.

“Not enough,” she said. Even through the thin windows, she saw the darting shapes of the fighters, circling like buzzards drawn to the battle inside.

“I have an idea,” Jaleel said. “I just spent the last two weeks learning about the unloading system and it’s so dangerous. If you have some heavy stuff, we can have ten unloading arms throwing major projectiles at over one hundred miles an hour.”

“You can control all those arms at the same time?” Hale asked.

“I can from the command room,” Jaleel said. “It’s really close. The access stairwell should only be a little way down the hall.”

“How are we going to go to the command room, with Max and all the floppy disks?” Enoa asked. “We were really lucky not to be in a major fight already.”

“You and Dr. Stan can make sure Max is okay, if he doesn’t mind,” Jaleel said. “Enoa, one of us has to be around to work the guns on the Aesir when it gets here. And who knows how long that will take. Did Orson cloak it? I was so busy laughing at his password I didn’t notice.”

“I have no idea,” Enoa said. “But you can’t go to the command room alone.”

“Of course not,” Jaleel said. “That’s why we need to make sure Max is okay with you two.”

“Help me back to my wheelchair,” Max said. “If my motor works, I’ll fight.”

“I’m following almost none of this,” Hale said.

“My point is,” Jaleel said. “It looks like I’ll have to take Kol with me. What do you say, Unabomber?”

* * *

“You’re pretty good.” Orson watched the final Blades Trooper. The guard held a long, electrified pike in each closed fist.

The non-human enigma containment atrium was built like all of the other prisoner blocks. It was a separate sealed room, three of its four guards now fallen.

“So I’ll give you another chance to get out of here,” Orson continued. “There’s been way too much lopping apart today already.”

The trooper howled in response. He charged Orson, vaulting the desk in the center of the room, one pike raised diagonally, in a high guard. He held the second weapon, point outward, ready to stab or probe Orson’s defense.

Orson trigged his blaster to fall into his left hand. When the Blades Trooper raised his outstretched pike, Orson struck it sideways. The stabbing pike swung in front of the trooper’s torso, blocking a quick attack with the defending pike. The trooper twisted sideways, sidestepping to clear himself for another attack. Too late.

Orson raised his blaster and fired once, point blank, into the space between breastplate and helmet. The trooper collapsed.

“Alright, Doctor,” Orson said. “If that was really it. We should be good to get started.”

Velye stood at the rear door. His eyes stayed on the fallen Blades Trooper, hands still clutching his pikes.

“Doctor,” Orson said. “I’m sorry about that, but we’ve got to get moving. Let’s free your turtle friend and get you out of here.”

Velye still didn’t speak, but he gave a quick nod. He walked around Orson toward the far door. The was no knob on the door and but it had a touchscreen surface with a message scrolling across it.

Authorized Personnel Only

Unauthorized entrants will be prosecuted.

The writing vanished when the doctor pressed his open palm to the door. Then it swung open.

Orson followed him into a massive white room filled with moving cages, pens, and tanks. All of them were set above heavy treads that brought them together in the center of the room. All of them held animals or stranger living things.

Close at hand, Orson saw cages of rodents with fur that glowed, and a tank of fish with simian arms that dangled beneath their fins.

“You’ve already started?” Velye asked. “That’s a risk.”

The occupant of one of the larger tanks turned toward the sound. It looked amphibious, but stood on two legs, half-submerged in murky water. The frogman eyed Orson, blinking with multiple sets of eyelids. Orson saw its muscles, tightened like springs. It was contained and restrained only by its tank’s transparent walls, but then the tank also moved and the creature looked away.

“More risk to wait,” a woman in a lab coat called back. She rounded the side of another cage, this filled with fluffy baby chicks who sent out smoke rings with each peep. “We began as soon as the final guards left to confront you. We have to get all of them to safety. This is our best chance, and we’re prepared to launch. Once we have them organized, we’ll be taking them to the hangar. The supplies are already loaded.”

Another tank moved past Orson and Velye. The creature inside floated, but without water. It was reptilian, serpentine, with yards of coiling, wrapping tail. Orson saw no wings, but it touched none of the walls of its tank. Its head ended in a long point, with trailing whiskers and cool, gray eyes.

“I’ll be back to help you secure them.” Velye called to his colleague. “Once Captain Gregory helps me free Earhart.”

“I know it’s hard for you,” the woman replied. “But don’t be long. We need to leave, Maurice.”

“I know.” Velye reached out to Orson, guiding him out of the way of an approaching pen. Inside were several tall, furred animals, apelike and upright.

“You’ve got bigfoots in here?” Orson asked. “You’d put all those goofy mystery TV shows out of business in fifteen minutes.”

One of them gave Orson a glance. It was the representative of a world of legends, centuries of stories about the yeti, the almas, and how many other folktales.

“They are something, aren’t they?” Velye asked. “Closer relatives of humans than chimps or bonobos. Almost as close as the Neanderthal. It is a terrible thing to probe their bodies and do nothing to explore their habitats or their lives outside captivity. They are all quite a sight to behold, all together, all our charges. But now, it is time for your real help, Captain. Time is very short.” He waved to four more people at the far side of the round room. Two were dressed in lab coats. Two more wore pilot-style jumpsuits. “Now, let’s make quick work of this.”

Velye led Orson toward the far right of the round room. They wove through another gathering of containment units.

Orson saw a pair of glowing red eyes watching him through dark-tinted glass. But he lost sight of them when he noticed another test subject who looked all-too human.

A bearded man hung, belted to the side of another tank. He was still dressed in a dark prisoner jumpsuit. His thin, atrophied legs dangled below him. A chrome helmet sat tight on his head.

“Non-human?” Orson asked.

“Poor man.” Velye shook his head before unlocking another door with a quick swipe from his Card Key. “He’s been classified formerly human. ‘Formerly human’ is a manner of non-human to the Liberty Corps.”

Orson did not reply or puzzle at the words. He lost all sense of the other enigmas when he entered the cell for the shellcraft.

Orson heard the rumbling breathing of the creature as soon as they entered the long tunnel away from the antechamber. The passage led them away from the other containment areas and ended in a room the size and shape of a missile silo.

They stood near the top, looking down on a massive living thing. The clinical explanation didn’t capture a hundred feet of living, breathing stone. It looked like an asteroid, a hunk of space rock, held in the center of the tubular room.

Dr. Velye led Orson along a platform that ran around the shellcraft’s cylinder. From there, Orson saw bus-thick metal beams that reached from the walls and burrowed into the apparent stone of the creature’s carapace. More walkways ran both below and above them. Further up, the roof looked like solid concrete.

“Earhart, my dear.” Velye spoke in a loud, clear voice. “It is time now for us to part ways. I told you I would win you freedom…” His voice broke, and he took a great shuddering breath. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes. “But I could not do this alone. You will have to be very patient with my new friend, Orson Gregory.”

Velye gestured to Orson behind his back. “This way, please, Captain.” Orson saw the half-dried tear-streaks shining on Velye’s face as he walked to the edge of the railing. He looked down into the face and eyes of the shellcraft.

The face was a deep dark brown, colored like her carapace. Her eyes were a rich amber with swirls of white and black. Orson saw no pupils, but the swirls moved when he reached the edge.

Earhart moaned. It was a pitiful sound, like the whine from a sad pet. But with the creature’s size, the noise was louder than a revving diesel engine.

“Can your sword cut through that metal?” Velye asked.

“Probably,” Orson drew the blade again. Earhart moaned a second time at the sight of the fire.

“This fire will not hurt you, dear,” Velye said. “He is here only to free you. Right, Captain? Speak to her, please.”

“Uh, hi,” Orson said. “Hi, uh, Earhart. Your friend asked me to come and help you. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He leaned toward Velye. “Does the roof open, or what? Because I’m not seeing any door her size.”

“She’ll have to burn her way free,” Velye said. “Her kind feeds on silicon-based life in the upper atmosphere and in real stellar rocks. She spits a projectile corrosive that can melt stone or concrete.”

“Why can’t she do that right now?” Orson asked. “Melt the ceiling and us.”

“She has a special gag in her first mouth.” Velye pointed along the animal’s face. Orson saw nothing but the rock-colored hide. “I’m going down there. I will clear her mouth. Go to the lower level. Begin freeing her when I am clear.”

“Right.” Orson stepped up to the railing and then dropped over the other side. The shellcraft moaned at the sound of his repulsor, but Orson fired it only once, just enough to angle himself back to the lower balcony. The circular ledge ran even with the anchors that bit into the animal’s carapace.

“I’m ready!” Orson shouted over the shellcraft’s whine. “It’s okay!” Orson called out. “It’s okay, uh, Earhart. I’m gonna let you go. Your friend, the doctor, just wants me to help you.”

But Orson’s words were drowned out by another new sound. A motorized walkway made a grinding noise as it stretched out from the upper balcony, reaching down toward the shellcraft’s face. Only one side of the new platform was railed, and Dr. Velye gripped the metal with both hands as he walked to Earhart.

“You will be on your way home soon,” Velye said. “Soon, soon. I’m so sorry for everything, my dear. I’m so very sorry. So very sorry.” The walkway ran low enough that he could reach out and touch the great animal’s skin. Earhart let out a muffled whimpering sound.

Something fell away from the shellcraft, oblong and shining. It clattered away, out of sight. Earhart’s whole body shook and the room shook with her, as she gagged from the object’s removal.

“You may begin cutting her free, Captain,” Velye called down. “I will stay here to comfort her.”

“Are you sure?” Orson yelled back. “She won’t melt you?”

“No.” Velye placed his hand on the shellcraft’s face. The creature let out a long, lyrical sound. Orson expected high-pitched tones like whale-song, but Earhart was a bass, deeper than a bass.

“I have known Earhart for decades,” Velye called. “Please.” His voice broke again. He wept openly then, and his shoulders shook in silent sobs. “Free her.”

“Right.” Orson drew his blade’s field disruptor from his coat. He extended the sword’s blade and, in one swing, sliced through the first restraint.

Earhart howled, a heavy, reverberating sound that Orson felt in his face like the thought-breaker. Orson fell away from the noise, and he heard Velye shout above him. But Orson did not hear the words.

He returned to the edge of the balcony and saw that most of the restraint had fallen away from the carapace, torn away from the stone-like surface. Only a round metal base remained, still embedded, stuck in place.

“Do we have to get these things out of her?” Orson asked. “The anchors or whatever they are?”

“There isn’t time,” Velye called. “I believe she’ll force them out, but we can’t waste her chance!”

Orson ran to the second restraint. He held the extended sword carefully. It was doubled, long enough to nick the walls as he rounded the curved platform, but he would not risk changing and re-changing the sword’s containment field. He arrived at the second restraint and sliced it apart.

Earhart howled again, but Orson rounded the side to the next one. He endured the bass rumble until it faded away and all he heard were the muttered reassurances from the doctor.

Orson sliced through the third restraint. And that time the noise was enough for Orson to reach for his kazoo and its earplugs. But by the time he rounded the final support, the shellcraft’s cries had died away. Still, Dr. Velye stood with her, hand against her.

“No, no,” he said. “No, no, I cannot go with you. I have my life here. It has been a joy knowing you. You made my captivity bearable, and I hope I have done the same for you, dear. But you are going places I might not survive. I am not as versatile as you are.” And he made indecipherable sounds, moans, like he was imitating the great creature.

“What’s happening, Doctor?” Orson called. “Do you want to get clear before I do the last one?”

“She wants me to go with her,” Velye said. “She… She has a way of sending images. I see the stars, Captain. I see everything out there, flying through the darkness, but it’s freedom.” He gasped. It was another strange sound, awe and unrestrained sorrow. “I see the light at the center of the galaxy. I see other worlds and… She’s only shown this to me a few times before.” He moaned again.

“Do you want to get out of the way?” Orson called.

But then Orson heard a new sound, like an explosion.

“I see…” Velye began again.

Orson’s HUD caught the blast of green energy flying down from above, from the uppermost balcony, but there was no time to save the doctor, no chance to intervene, not even a moment to speak.

The light took Velye square in the back. He fell, instantly motionless. Even from the next ledge, Orson saw a plume of smoke burning from the man’s back.

Orson looked up again. He saw distant hints of red, far above, also on the uppermost walkway – many separate shapes.

The shellcraft howled then too, a noise even greater than her pain. She strained against the last support, fighting to reach up to the platform, to the doctor’s body. Velye did not move.

“CAPTAIN GREGORY!” One of the figures along the top railing had smoking gauntlets. “Show yourself, Gregory! I have thirty-guns and a full squad of Shapers. I am Sir Lezander. You killed my students, so I bring you justice. I am joined by Sir Valdemar, knight of the seen and the unseen. Step out and face your death. If you do, your own fate will be quick like this man’s.”

Orson stepped to the balcony’s edge and sliced through the shellcraft’s final support.

The shellcraft did not fall with the last restraint. She stayed, suspended in the air.

Orson fell away from her. A force like a great wind hit him and threw him backward. He gripped the extended sword, barely held it upright. He pulled the disruptor away when he found his footing.

He looked up again and still saw faint heat from the Liberty Corps, but they didn’t fire, and he could not hear them. The room had begun to shake and rumble all around them, everything under the otherworldly, biological force that held the massive creature in the open air.

Earhart was free.