Idols (15 page)
“Tima,” I say. “Something’s happening.”
“I know.”
I am turning to look for her when she pulls me roughly, and we squeeze under the small table in the room.
The now-familiar blue glow begins to grow around us, sheltering us.
Tima, taking care of me—like she always does.
That’s when the walls cave in.
That’s when the screaming comes from outside me.
That’s when the sirens begin to wail.
GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH: EASTASIA SUBSTATION
MARKED URGENT
MARKED EYES ONLY
Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B
RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies
Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.
HAL2040==> FORTIS
07/06/2046
PERSES Scans/Cargo ctd.
//comlog begin;
HAL:
A brief update on my research and analysis—please read following notes at your leisure:;
As the asteroid PERSES approaches, more detailed analysis has revealed what appears to be additional cargo. Nonmilitary, it would seem. Possibly biological.;
Unfortunately, cargo containers are shielded (similar to NULL), preventing all attempts to discern contents.;
One may infer, however, that shielding may indicate biological materials, or highly sensitive electronics?;
No additional data in my scans of PERSES’s exposed systems sheds light on the cargo. But perhaps what little NULL has revealed about his objectives can point us in the right direction?;
As for NULL, who must know more than he is willing to tell, I assume any direct reference and instructions regarding delicate cargo to be part of his protected core, and therefore inaccessible by any means available at my disposal.;
//comlog end;
“Head down. Keep moving. Stay to the side, by the wall.” Tima barks out orders and I do as she says, automatically. Tima doesn’t fall apart. She’s been preparing for a moment like this—for moments like these—all her life.
Still, she clutches Brutus to her chest like a stuffed animal.
An earthquake? Is that what this is?
We thread our way through the mad crush of Belters filling the halls, heading instinctively toward the barracks, where the boys have been sleeping. By the time we push through the doorway to the room, I see that the long rows of beds are empty. So are the weapons lockers.
That’s the first time we realize it might not be a disaster that is bringing down the walls, but a battle. You don’t need weapons in an earthquake.
The guns are gone because people have taken them.
The soldiers are gone because somebody is attacking.
Sympas
, I think.
Sympas
, I hope. Terrible, but still human. The other possibility is too horrific to think about.
Then I feel Ro’s hand on my arm, heaving, as if he has been running every corridor of the Idylls to find me, which he probably has. “Dol,” he says, panting. “And T. There you are.”
Lucas is just steps behind him. His arm encircles my waist and he pulls me so quickly and so firmly that my feet almost don’t have time to touch the ground.
He is past talking, but I see the grim set of his eyes, and I can feel his pulse where my hand wraps around his neck. I can read every hammering beat of his heart.
Nothing is going to happen to you, Dol. Not ever. I promise.
Then I realize it may be Lucas I’m feeling, but those words are coming from somewhere else.
Someone.
It’s Ro. I hear him reaching out to me, desperately, unconsciously, in what feels like our last moments together. Because that’s what we do.
Did.
Even now, my heart races.
By the time my boots scrape the ground again, I know better than to believe my heart—or anyone else’s around me.
Because just like that, we are pulled into the crush of soldiers who are surging the halls of Belter Mountain, and just like that, we are under attack from an unseen enemy.
In the main hangar, we make our way through soldiers prying open crates of munitions and strapping themselves with ammo. Ro grabs an ammo belt, and I copy him, slinging it over my shoulder. As if I know the first thing about what to do with an ammo belt.
Lucas and Tima do the same, wordlessly. All around us is noise, I think, yet no one seems to be speaking. The sirens are louder than any words.
The Bishop appears in front of us. “Are you all right? All of you?” He looks us over, counting.
Grassgirl, Hothead, Buttons, the Freak.
More or less. I don’t have to see into his mind to know that.
There’s no time, though, and the rest of his words come tumbling out. “The tunnels have been breached. Somehow. The scouts didn’t see anything coming, so I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but we’re not taking any chances. The main passages are caving in. If this keeps up, we’ll be cut off from the outside world in minutes.”
The room rattles around me as chunks fall from the ceiling. I shake off the panic and shout over the noise. “They can do all this? A bunch of Sympas?”
“No. Nothing from this Earth can.” The Bishop bends his face to mine, lowering his voice. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Doloria?”
No. I don’t understand. I don’t want to understand. I want everything to be the way it was back when our only enemies were human.
“The No Face,” says Lucas. “The Icons. They’re growing. We’ve seen it happening—it’s not just here.”
“No. Not here.” Ro holds his shotgun, furious. There is no one to shoot, nothing to shoot at. “I won’t let it.”
“Look at that.” The Bishop points to the cavernous roof over our heads, where I can see something black and sharp jutting out from the rock. Showers of rubble fall every time one of these new, angular roots juts out of the cavern ceiling. Lucas looks sick.
Tima stares up at it. “Definitely the Icons. We thought they were connected underground. Now we know.”
The Bishop nods. “Looks like they’re expanding. Like they’re looking for something.” He doesn’t have to say it, but he does. “Like roots searching for water. Or you. Maybe that thing followed you here.”
“That’s impossible,” Tima says.
“No. No, no, no,” says Ro. He yanks up his shotgun and takes aim at the black protrusion closest to him and fires, and we all duck. The blast ricochets and dust flies.
He walks toward it, but it isn’t damaged.
Of course not
, I think, remembering the kind of explosive firepower it took to damage the first Icon.
“It’s no use. And it’s everywhere. Coming from the ground,” the Bishop says. “And the walls around us. The earth itself. It’s like the thing is growing, reaching for something, and the mountain is collapsing.”
Lucas turns to me. “Dol, you have to figure this out for us. Why is it—why are they—following us? What are you getting?” Lucas holds out his hand to me. I look at him, then at Ro, who nods, reluctantly.
Ro knows me, better than anyone, even Lucas. Me, and what I can do.
“Buttons is right. You just have to let it in. I know you can feel it, whatever it’s doing. We have to know.”
Ro’s words are quiet, his voice almost reassuring. Unless you consider what he’s asking me to do. Lucas shoots him a look, and even Tima looks frightened.
“I don’t want to, Ro. I’m scared.” My power doesn’t usually frighten me, but this time it does. Whatever that thing is out there, I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to touch it. Not even with my mind.
I look from Ro to Lucas. I see the hurt expression on Lucas’s face. He hates seeing that Ro still has the hold on me that he does, at this moment.
In the way that he does.
I can’t change history. I can’t change the truth. And I can’t keep Ro from mattering to me.
Especially now.
They’re depending on me. Me, against a growing, expanding Icon. Not again. I can’t do this again. But I’m all they have.
So when Ro holds out his hand I take it. Warmth surges into my body, flowing up my arm.
Then I reach for Lucas with my other hand.
He hesitates. I don’t. “Please, Lucas. I need—I need you both. I don’t have enough power on my own. Not with the world collapsing around me.”
I feel him soften and he takes my hand and kisses it. The second his lips touch my fingers, I feel him. He’s there, every bit as much as Ro, with a fire as steady as Ro’s is wild, a fire that warms while Ro’s burns.
I need them both
, I think.
And I will always love them both.
And so I stretch until I can feel my way through the chaos inside the mountain to the chaos beneath it. I leave the human hearts behind, and reach for whatever is left in the darkness. I push farther and farther, deeper and deeper, because I can.
Because I’m not in this alone.
Then it’s clear—perfectly, painfully clear—and as much as I don’t want to say it or believe it, I do.
I can feel you
, the voice says.
Null. That’s the name the voice in my dream gave itself—and that’s the same voice I hear now.
The same word that Fortis was thinking when the Lords took him away.
“What do you want?” I say aloud.
I can see the others looking at me, confused. I don’t have time to explain. Instead, I close my eyes and focus on the voice.
You are, still, a thing of beauty. The way your heart beats—a ball of pulsing gas. The way your blood moves—a river.
“Why are you following us? What is this about? Just tell me. You don’t have to do this.” I’m shouting—I know I am—but I can’t help myself. I don’t want to link my mind up to this thing. I only want to use my voice.
It feels safer that way, even if it isn’t—and I realize now just how afraid I am.
Just tell me
, it says.
Everything about you and on you and in you grows. Grows and changes and dies. You are motion and speed and progress and decay. You are the universe as it expands and unfolds.
I shout as loudly as I can. “I want you to stop. I want this to stop. Leave us alone. Get out of my head.”
You consume everything, and then you consume yourself. You are your own destruction. Your whole life is destruction.
“That’s not true. We create, not destroy.” My voice is even louder, but I can’t make it listen.
Destruction compels. Destruction is your life force.
“No. No—you’re wrong.”
Let me in. I will destroy you, beautifully. Worthily. I will help you destroy your beautiful self.
“Get out—do you hear me? Get out of my head!” I scream again.
Then I open my eyes.
My friends are surrounding me and their faces look foreign to me, like pearls in a necklace. A string of human beads.
They feel so removed from me, it’s hard to remember I’m one of them.
And I’m so drained I can barely speak.
“I can feel it,” I finally manage to say. “It’s reaching out for me. Like it’s sort of shadowing me.”
“Looking for you? Or just our base?” The Bishop leans closer.
I push harder against the shadows in my mind. Against the Null thing. “It can feel me, I think. I’m not crazy. I’m not imagining things. It’s here and it knows I’m here.”
“I wish you were crazy. I wish you were at least wrong.” Ro lays his forehead against my shoulder, and I feel my reach uncurling, my powers growing that much stronger.
“It keeps talking about destruction. About destroying us. Maybe it’s just looking for us.”
Lucas’s grip on my hand tightens, and my heart begins to pound. I know how much he hates using his power, and I hate myself for doing it to him. But we both know—we all know—we don’t have a choice.
“It’s coming closer.” I open my eyes, dropping their hands. I feel the sickening vertigo I felt when we first approached the Icon in the Hole, just a hint, but I’ll never forget that feeling.
It’s not like anything else on Earth.
I look at the others and they feel it too. Panic rises like bile in my throat.
I can’t hold it in.
I vomit, spewing bile across my boots, the ground in front of me.
Then, without warning, the spell is broken, and the temperature in the room plummets until I can see my own ragged breath.
