The Skiano’s white arms convulsed. For an instant, only one of the four clutched Rety — and she chomped down on the remaining hand with her teeth. Slipping free of his spasmodic grasp, she ducked down to avoid being seized by the paha, then swerved in an unexpected direction, under and between the Tandu’s spiky legs!
Harry waved his arms.
“Over here! Run!”
A terrifying noise escaped the Tandu. Hired under certain conditions, it had come armed only with weapons appropriate for a formally pious sacrifice. Resistance was not part of the bargain. This amounted to breach of contract!
Its bellow resonated down the hallways of Kazzkark, calling for comrades to come avenge this insult. Meanwhile, one blade flicked to remove the paha’s head.
The husky gello warrior reacted impulsively by swinging its metal-edged staff, crushing one of the Tandu’s forelegs, then another, before its own turn came for skewering upon a scalpellike edge. Meanwhile, two more acolytes — a flying glououvis and claw-footed zyu8—also lost sight of the purpose of the gathering. Responding to ancient loathings, they launched themselves at the Tandu, to peck at it from above and below while dodging its flailing knives.
Amid this pandemonium, Dwer kept firing arrows, taking out the giant mantislike creature’s sensory stalks, one at a time.
Harry thought of telling Dwer to save his ammo. That tactic seldom worked against Tandu. But then Rety finally broke free of the melee and bolted toward the edge of the raised platform. Sensing freedom just ahead, she took two long steps, making ready to leap.
Harry’s throat caught as he saw the Tandu reach after her. The razor-sharp sword already dripped with multicolored gore.
A new swarm of chaos waves struck. The floor convulsed, bucking like a wounded animal. Dust clouds poured from shuddering walls and gay banners billowed before a rising wind. In the distance, a siren wailed.
Harry staggered, watching helplessly as Rety teetered at the rim of the heaving platform, then sprawled over the edge amid a flailing of frantic arms and legs.
He tried rushing forward to catch her — knowing he would be too late.
Till the moment her head struck pavement, Rety was defiant. She neither cried out nor moaned, refusing to give the universe any satisfaction — least of all by whimpering about bad luck.
Gillian
LUCIFER MEANS “LIGHT BEARER.”
The thought came unbeckoned, while shimmering luminance poured in through a nearby window, playing across her face.
Angels are bright … though not always good.
The sight before her reminded Gillian how many beautiful and terrifying sights she had witnessed during recent months and years. And how many deep assumptions she’d been forced to revise.
For instance, she recalled that time, deep within a twisty transfer point, when the Earthling crew had confronted the Great Harrower as it sifted among countless starcraft, choosing a fraction to aim toward transcendence. That huge glowing specter had reminded Gillian of some mighty seraph, culling the virtuous from the wicked on Judgment Day. No one was more surprised than she when the blinding ball of energy seemed to identify Streaker amid a crowd of passing vessels, plucking the Earthship and setting it aside for some purpose the Harrower never bothered to explain.
Perhaps now we’ll find out, she thought. Indeed, there appeared to be a definite family resemblance between that earlier “angel” and the giant needle-gateway now holding Streaker in thrall, spinning out radiant tendrils that snaked amorously around several dozen selected spacecraft. The behavior reminded Gillian unpleasantly of a spider, busy wrapping living morsels, preserving them for later.
All the other ensnared ships parked nearby were vast arks filled with merged hydro-and oxy-life-forms — true transcendence candidates — yanked from the maelstrom surrounding the white dwarf. Streaker was minuscule by comparison — a tiny caterpillar next to beach balls. Yet, she now wore her own blanket of shiny, billowing strands.
“The material is unknown,” commented Hannes Suessi. “I cannot even get a decent reading with my instruments.”
The Niss Machine hazarded a guess.
“Someone may have had this in mind for us all along. Even back at the Fractal World. The coating we received there could be meant to serve as a buffer — or perhaps glue — between our fragile metal hull and this new substance … whatever it is.”
Gillian shook her head.
“Perhaps it’s another kind of protective armor.”
Silence stretched for several seconds as they all turned to look at the rearward-facing view screen. Everyone clearly shared the same dour thought.
Something was about to happen soon. Something that called for “protection” on a scale formerly unimaginable.
At least the earlier orgy of destruction appeared to be over, down below where millions of space vessels once cruised in prim columns and well-ordered rows, like polite pilgrims seeking redemption at a shrine. That procession had been smashed, crushed, pureed. Now, only an occasional flash told of some surviving “candidate” finally succumbing to forces that had already pulverized millions of others, leaving a turbid stew of gas, dust, and ions.
A roiling funnel now surrounded the ancient stellar remnant, shrouding its small, white disk beneath black streamers and turbulent haze.
According to Zub’daki, that whirling cloud had special dynamical properties. It would not orbit for long, or even spiral inward gradually, over the course of weeks or years.
“The debris storm has almost no net angular momentum,” the dolphin astronomer announced. “As collisional mixing continues, all the varied tangential velocities will cancel out. When that happens, the whole mass will collapse inward, nearly all at once!”
Asked when this infall might occur, the dolphin scientist had predicted.
“Sssoon. And when it does, we’ll be at ground zero for the greatest show in all the cosmossss.”
Staring at that murky tornado — comprising the pulverized hopes of countless races and individual beings — Gillian’s crew mates knew the show would begin shortly. Akeakemai whistled a dubious sigh, getting back to Gillian’s original question.
“Protective armor … againsssst what’s coming?”
The dolphin switched languages to express his doubts in Trinary.
