The situation reminded Paygan Xeing of something Rúna had said once, a common Terran quip regarding the vagaries of the universe: “I have good news, and I have bad news.”

The good news was that the Terran fleet was no longer a concern. They had ceased firing at the Grand Alliance, focusing their attentions instead on the now-rogue Yīqún.

The bad news, of course, was the Yīqún themselves. Several drones had switched sides, targeting their former allies, while the rest remained focused on the Alliance. It was an all too familiar plight, one he had believed was safely buried in the past. Unfortunately, the Terran’s carelessness had brought the ancient horror back to life. They were being forced to steadily give ground, getting pushed back by the relentless onslaught of the dreaded machines.

They had, however, a pair of bright spots on their side. The first was the Troika/Oivu coalition, armed with Precursor weapons, who were fighting back with everything they had. They were knocking down an impressive number of enemy drones, but that still left thousands of them to fight.

The other element in their favor was the Terran Avatars, digitally uploaded personalities who had come up with a new method of fighting the drones during the previous war, and had graciously offered their services for this one. They were racing against the clock to bring the fleet’s mothballed Alala transmitters back online, named for an ancient war cry among their race. As an Ixian, he approved of the name, given their well-known call to battle; as a commander facing the cursed machines in battle, he approved of their effectiveness even more.

But even as he ordered the fleet to redouble their efforts, the odds they faced were not encouraging.

“They’re gaining on us!” Taneka shouted, as Saracen tried desperately to escape the drones pursuing them.

“I know,” Remi snapped, before turning to the gunners. “The instant they’re in range, I want them destroyed!”

Slavko, from his own crew, and Yoshiko from Mako, looked dubiously back at him. “This old tub ain’t packing much,” the beefy man said. “We’ll try, but…”

“Do more than try,” the captain fired back, “or we’re dead.” He glanced over at Taneka, expecting a rebuke, but she merely pursed her lips and said nothing. They all knew the score, and the crew would do their absolute best, but in all likelihood, it simply wouldn’t be enough.

The pirate racked his brains for something, anything, that might give them an edge, but came up empty. He knew better than to give Mairead another buzz and demand more from the engines, as she was already straining them past their limits. If there was a spare erg of energy she could wring out of the power plants, she’d have already done it, and no amount of cursing from him would change that.

In desperation, he pulled up a plot of the system, hoping for inspiration, but there was little to be found. They’d already left the platform far behind them, and other than New Terra itself, there was nothing else within range. He briefly considered attempting a gravity assist maneuver but quickly discarded the notion. The drones could easily keep pace with them if they tried, in fact, they had even better performance than Saracen did. Besides, with this bucket, he’d just end up crashing the damn ship…

Remi froze, and then slowly turned to Taneka. “How crazy are you feeling?” he asked her.

She grimaced at the question. “Not very… but since I’m out of ideas, I don’t have room to argue. What’s the plan?”

Tapping the controls, he adjusted course. “Will they keep following us if they think we’re already dead?” Remi wondered aloud, as he pointed Saracen’s nose directly toward the planet below.

The retro rockets shook their fragile contraption while Rúna grappled to keep them on course. The contraption’s helm controls were rudimentary, no surprise given the timeframe, but it made staying on course difficult. Despite her best efforts, they were experiencing a steadily worsening case of precession, with the device wobbling on its axis like a top winding down. The harder she fought to bring it back on course, the more it shimmied, and unless she corrected the problem soon, they would start to tumble. Once they keeled over far enough, the device would tear itself apart within seconds.

The only good news was that the G-forces would kill them before that ever happened.

Genvass just barely understood how difficult the task at hand was, as he’d never piloted a craft himself. He knew that both Samara and Rúna were worried, and considering how insanely competent they were, their nervousness spoke volumes. He wanted to help, to find some way to lighten her burden, but once again that required skills he didn’t possess.

Terra, he hated feeling useless.

“Ambassador,” Rúna said over the radio, interrupting his thoughts, “that wobble is getting worse. If I don’t correct the problem in the next few minutes, we’ll never pull out of it.”

He swallowed apprehensively at the news. “What can we do?” he asked her.

“There’s still one trick we can try, but it’s risky,” she warned him. “If I fire thrusters and get some spin going across the long axis, it might be enough to stabilize us and control the wobble.”

“And the downside?” he said hoarsely. There had to be a downside, probably a serious one, otherwise she wouldn’t bother informing him of the problem. She’d simply go ahead and risk it.

Rúna took a deep breath. “The downside is that too much spin will have us pulling some serious negative g’s. Our bodies aren't built for that. We’ll experience loss of vision, burst blood vessels, before finally losing consciousness. If that happens…”

She left the rest of the statement unvoiced, not that he needed to hear it, what with Samara hanging limp against her harness an arm’s length away. Losing consciousness under these conditions was a death sentence.

“... do it,” he told her, his words barely above a whisper. “If it’s our only chance, then we have to take it.”

“Copy,” she acknowledged, throwing a switch. “Hold on!”

The thrusters came to life, gradually spinning up the contraption as the rotations grew steadily faster, while Genvass fought to keep from filling his helmet with vomit. Back and forth, she oscillated across the line while she struggled to find the sweet spot that gave them the most stability, without turning their brains to mush. A couple of times he did pass out, only coming to moments later when she slowed their rotation to compensate. All he wanted to do was screw his eyes shut and wait for it to be over, but instead, he forced himself to act as an observer, on the off chance it might do some good.

The platform continued to grow larger beneath their feet while their rate of descent slowed. He’d read about Remi’s first meeting with Athena, as well as subsequent visits by others, and he recalled that something important was coming up, but what it was exactly currently eluded him… right until his external sensors reported a massive and sudden change to their environment.

“We’ve crossed the barrier!” he shouted in realization, in case Rúna was too busy flying to notice. The space surrounding the platform was encased in some kind of force field, as the vacuum of space was abruptly replaced by an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere.

“Thank Mother Terra,” she whispered, tapping another button to deploy a drogue chute. The rushing air popped the drogue chute out the top of the device, catching air and running the length of the cable, only to be torn to shreds almost immediately. The ragged bit of cloth that remained whipped about in the wind as Rúna cursed their luck.

“That was supposed to stabilize us!” she shouted. Forcing himself to look down, Genvass could see the platform rapidly approaching, growing larger by the second, their homemade descent vehicle still wobbling badly as they neared their objective.

“What are we going to do?” he howled back at her.

Rúna gnashed her teeth in frustration before reaching for the controls. “I’ve got one last trick, and if it fails, then we’re fucked,” she told him. Genvass barely had time to react before she stabbed the control panel hard, shooting out an even larger parachute that snapped into place above them, the thin cloth instantly pulled taut by their rapid descent. The ambassador watched and prayed for it to hold, only to watch in horror as gashes began appearing one by one between the stitched seams.

“Hold on!” the Valkyrie screamed as they hurtled towards the platform, the torn chute failing to fully slow their descent.

Genvass sent a brief prayer to Holy Mother Terra, clutching his harness tight as they hit the crystalline deck. Metal and carbon fiber bent and snapped with the impact, sending broken bits flying as they bounced off the surface and tumbled back into the air, only to crash once again, their momentum sending them caroming across the platform as the device was brutally bashed to pieces, before finally coming to rest.

The silence was almost deafening.

“... Fuck me,” Rúna wheezed, as she struggled to free herself. “You still alive there, Ambassador?” she queried.

Genvass slowly opened his eyes. “I think so?” he said at last, reaching for the harness release only to scream with pain.

“What’s wrong?” she said at once, with worry straining her voice.

“My arm,” he whimpered. “I think it’s broken.”

Rúna fell to the ground with a thump as she finally got loose from the webbing. Crawling over to the ambassador, she gave him a quick once over. “Yeah, that’s broken, all right,” she confirmed, as she started work on the straps holding him in place. “Try to protect it while I get you out,” she told him.

Wincing, Genvass cradled the damaged limb with his other arm while she worked to free him. She eased him down gently and pull him from the wreckage, removing her helmet and giving the air a tentative sniff before doing the same for him. Nodding his thanks, he took a deep breath of the platform’s air before slowly letting it out. “Thank you,” he said at last.

“Sit tight, I gotta check on Samara.” Nodding once more, he sat on the platform and waited while she moved around to the other side of the device to examine the Protean. Removing her helmet as well, Rúna did a quick medical evaluation. “She’s breathing, but still unconscious,” the Valkyrie reported.

“Can you tell what’s wrong with her?” Genvass asked.

She shook her head. “No idea,” she answered, as she began working to free her as well.

The ambassador took a moment to scan their surroundings. The platform itself consisted of either Type 3 or Type 4 material, while above them was nothing but open space. He could see the twinkling of lights and brief flashes, signs of the battle being waged against the Yīqún. At the far end of the platform stood a structure, the same place where Remi had first made contact with Athena, assuming the reports he’d read were accurate. Carefully removing his belt, he fashioned a crude sling, giving his broken arm support as he slowly staggered to his feet.

“Where the hell are you going?” Rúna demanded, still assessing Samara’s injuries.

“I’ve got to get to Athena,” he told her. “The battle is still raging, and we have to stop it.”

“I’m going with you,” she said with determination, only to freeze as she gazed back down at the wounded Protean’s still form.

“There’s nothing you can do to help me,” Genvass pointed out, “and Samara needs you. But I have to do this.”

Rúna started to speak, before bowing her head in mute acquiescence. “Yeah… you do,” she said softly. Their eyes met as she lifted her head, an entire conversation taking place between heartbeats. Something clicked inside her as she reached into her pocket and fished out a vial before handing it over. “You’ll need this,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, taking the proffered ampoule of blood, before slowly rising to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, still unsteady, before taking a moment to center himself. He graced the Valkyrie with a smile, one that held far more confidence than he actually possessed, before turning and making his way toward the structure that housed the AI Athena.

Watching him go, Rúna turned her attention back to Samara. There was nothing obviously wrong with her, and without medical supplies, there was damn little she could do for her. Pressing a finger to her throat, her eyes widened as she realized her pulse was growing weak, and her breathing increasingly shallow. “Damn it, Doc, I wish you were here,” she muttered, as she started ransacking the wreckage for medical supplies. She had packed none herself, but maybe Samara had. It was a slim hope, but what else was she supposed to do?

Her search came up empty, at least for a med kit, but she did find something else. Taking a deep breath, she gingerly removed it from where it had been stowed, almost afraid to touch it.

The Repository.

An errant thought worked its way into her consciousness before she shook it off like a dog. “Oh, hell no,” she snapped, “forget it. I’m not that crazy.”

Samara stopped breathing.

“Damn it!” Rúna dropped the box and immediately began chest compressions, checking for a pulse after thirty seconds.

Nothing.

She began CPR once more, but after another brief inspection, it was clear she wasn’t making a difference. Samara was dying. She had no idea why, and there was nothing she could do about it. End of statement.

Except… there was.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she sighed, before fishing in her pocket once more, giving the unconscious Protean a glaring snarl. “Bitch, you fucking owe me for this,” she snapped, before cracking open the vial and dumping the contents directly onto the Repository, placing her ungloved hand on top of it. At first, there was nothing, but after a moment she felt a strange tingling sensation. It took all her resolve to keep from pulling her hand away… when suddenly her eyes showed white as every muscle snapped taut with a powerful vengeance.

… Connection Established.

Genvass half-jogged/half-hobbled his way toward the structure, all too aware of the time crunch he was facing. His arm throbbed in agony, but he couldn’t stop. The edifice was almost empty, a massive, empty warehouse, with one notable exception, located against the far wall.

A throne, waiting for someone to seat themselves upon it.

That big ugly chair scared him, frightened him on a level so deep it threatened to paralyze him into stasis. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with that thing, despite the glowing reports of Athena’s hospitality and cooperation. It was… wrong, alien and deadly, and maybe even evil, in some hidden way they had yet to discover. Terrans were never meant to merge with machines like this.

But if he didn’t, then billions would die. Course, they might die anyway.

Genvass, trembling, slowly sat down on the throne. He opened the vial and poured it onto the armrest, then dipped his hand into the bloody puddle. Tendrils sprouted from the chair and found their way into his flesh as it rose, quickly cocooning him. He barely had time to scream, before a thought not his own whispered inside his mind.

… Connection Established.