His hand trembled and he paused, only inches from the creature’s imploring grasp. His mind was an avalanche of swirling thoughts and fears; and still he couldn’t bring himself to take the creature’s hand.
A sudden image of his father leapt into his fevered mind — of the time when he had given Ryann a dressing-down after he spoke out. Grayell’s words came back in a haunting clarity:
“You’re acting like a spoiled little brat! Perhaps you should consider that the universe doesn’t revolve around you for a change!”
Ryann felt a surge of anger run through him and he reached out, closing his eyes as he took hold of the creature’s outstretched hand.
He tensed, anticipating a flood of visions — that overwhelming wave of enlightenment his father had spoken of.
But nothing happened.
He opened his eyes in confusion as he felt the substance of the creature’s grip fading away.
He was too late. With a final sigh, the drone’s head fell back to the floor, its eyes wide and staring. The light had already left its body, drained from the creature’s face until Ryann could begin to see through it to the floor beneath.
“No!” he called out in exasperation, desperately trying to hold on to the creature’s hand, even as it melted away to nothing.
In a few short seconds, all trace of the figure had disappeared and Ryann was left kneeling upon the floor staring in anger and disbelief at this precious opportunity lost.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE HIVE QUEEN
At some point in that dreamlike state, Ryann dragged himself back to his feet and carried on along that surreal journey.
After his encounter with the dying drone, he saw no further signs of life. With the fading of that Luminal creature, the ship now felt empty and utterly lifeless.
Eventually, he managed to find a route back to the main shaft and struggled on up the endless ramps. The floor of the walkway was constructed from some semi-transparent material which gave Ryann a dizzying view of the shaft disappearing off hundreds of feet into the depths below.
“Up here!”
Ryann froze as an urgent whisper echoed from above.
He craned his neck upwards, peering through the sights of his rifle, scanning the shadows for the source of the call.
And then he saw her, a pale woman, possibly in her late-thirties, her features partially obscured behind the visor of her helmet. She wore a dust covered flight-suit and waved frantically with one hand. In her other hand she held a flashlight.
Ryann lowered his rifle. The woman was leaning over the parapet of a walkway about ten metres above his head. The slender bridge arced out over the centre of the shaft to be lost in the shadows of the far side.
“Find somewhere to hide!” she hissed urgently.
“Who are you?” called Ryann, his words muffled by his helmet.
The woman didn’t answer, but motioned him to be silent. She appeared agitated and wide-eyed, pointing down towards the far end of Ryann’s walkway.
To his surprise, he made out a faint blue glow forming in the blackness of the vaulted corridor beyond. He fancied that he could make out a slow, rhythmical noise like the beating of distant drums.
He looked back up to the woman, who’s terrified expression seemed on the verge of madness.
“Hide! Quickly! The Hive Queen is coming! She’s almost here!”
With a last fearful glance, she ducked back down behind the parapet and was gone.
Ryann was frozen with indecision.
After such an arduous search, he had finally found the woman responsible for signalling to him. He desperately wanted to chase after her. But he had no time to think. The sound was getting louder now, and he suddenly realised what its source was. It was the slow tread of many feet marching as one.
Ryann cast about urgently for any place to hide as the glow intensified, that phosphorescent blue that had heralded each reality-bending situation he had witnessed thus far.
A great tangle wreckage from a fallen control tower was his nearest chance of a hiding place. He dashed along the walkway, praying that he could cover the distance in time. The sound was rising like a wave behind him — a low moan of wind joining the inexorable booming of marching feet.
He flung himself behind a fallen girder just as the first figures appeared from the corridor. Peering out from his place of concealment, Ryann was captivated by the scene that unfolded.
In a column twelve deep, hundreds of drones marched with an unnatural slowness. They were the same faceless creatures as the one he had encountered earlier, but now they shone fully with that sickly blue illumination.
Each one was a strange featureless mannequin, formed from liquid light whose surface rippled and shimmered. As they marched they carried a great bier upon their shoulders. A dais that held a throne rose from its centre. And upon the throne sat a figure, who was surely the queen which the mysterious woman had spoken so fearfully of. The bizarre scene shone out as though it were spun from pure energy.
The queen wore a long flowing gown, richly embroidered with intertwining symbols that seemed to shift and pulsate. Her hands rested lightly upon the arms of her throne and she stared straight ahead as the procession filed past Ryann’s hiding place. Her hair was bound up in an exotic display, heavy with golden ornaments, and her face was hidden behind a golden mask. Its features were rough-formed and expressionless, with blank holes cut out for the eyes and mouth.
Ryann held up his gloved hand to shield his eyes from the glare, spellbound by the dreamlike scene. He found the queen’s mask extremely unnerving, as though the face behind it were something that should remain hidden.
As the procession drew parallel to his position, Ryann
