Three images played on rectangular screens lining the curved wall on the far side of the dome-shaped room. The video in the center came from the surveillance drone showing Nina’s backside as she passed through the open sheath at the chamber entrance.
The one to the left presented video taken from an aircraft; most likely one of The Order’s Chariots. The scene depicted a mixed eastern forest covered in a blend of turning autumn leaves as well as stalwart evergreens. In a clearing atop one mountain she saw two people.
The man wore shoulder-length hair and pointed toward the shipboard camera. Nina recognized him: Trevor Stone.
Behind Trevor stood Nina Forest, evident immediately by her telltale ponytail and tactical gear. She fumbled for something in a bag as the craft circled the clearing in an obvious attempt to land.
“This is who you are, Captain Forest,” the Bishop’s voice spoke from alongside the monitors. “Rather impressive, actually.”
The Nina on the mountainside pulled a small device just as Trevor turned to address her. After an electrical flash Trevor Stone doubled-over onto the grass and rocks of the mountain top clearing.
The image jumped. The camera now much closer; the Chariot had landed. Two monks moved from the craft toward Nina as she directed them at Trevor, who writhed in pain on the ground, unable to defend himself.
Again the video jumped, starting from the beginning in a continual loop of her sin.
“Such an accomplished soldier. Why you even used his affection for you as a weapon. You used it to isolate him. To deliver him unto Voggoth. I say again, impressive.”
The remaining video screen offered a darker image from a monitoring device mounted in the corner of a dimly lit chamber. She saw Trevor there, naked and bound by tentacle-like manacles. She saw herself approach him. And while no sound played, she could see by the anger in her eyes that she berated Trevor; scolded him. Taunted him, even. Much like the Bishop taunted her now.
“You are the greatest warrior of your people, Nina,” the words hissed from the Bishop’s mouth like a snake offering an apple. “Yet you served in his shadow. You won more victories than any other human, but never recognized. Your efforts go unappreciated.”
The image of Stone naked and weak taunted by Nina Forest looped as well. The screens continued to play over and over again. Her hand gripped the hilt of her short sword nearly to the point of crushing the metal. Her eyes left the fun-house-like screens and focused on the shadow of the fake-man standing along the wall.
“Voggoth has taken note of your abilities. There is no reason for you to perish alongside the rest of your species. It would be a shame for a creature of your talents to be thrown away.”
Nina did not speak. She listened. Certainly the Bishop knew she had come to kill, but it did not seem as if he spoke to save his existence. As slickly as he delivered his lines, the words felt rehearsed. A speech made to more than one group, no doubt.
She wondered how often the Bishop-or Voggoth itself-spoke such words. While the looping images tried to raise doubt and regret in her heart, the monster flattered her in an effort to turn Nina away from her kind.
Divide and conquer; but this time on a micro scale.
“Come, join with Voggoth. I promise the majority of your personality will remain intact but without doubt or regret or fear. With these weaknesses removed, you can be the greatest warrior the universe has known.”
Nina raised her sword.
The Bishop stepped forward. The light washed across him reflecting the crimson, squirming robe.
“I see. You may be under the misguided notion that my destruction will somehow benefit your people on the battlefield. This is not so. The army of Voggoth is replete with redundancy. It relies on no one piece. I offer for the last time a chance for you to survive and become something greater than your species could know; something immortal.”
Nina held steady. Her eyes ignored the looping images and focused entirely on her prey.
“Very well then.”
The Bishop held his arms aloft as if praying to something above. His head shook. Whatever lurked beneath the robe pushed against the cloth.
Nina had no intention of waiting. She lunged forward.
The Bishop’s skull opened like a blooming tulip. A thick appendage shot out from the sprout that had once been a neck. At the end of the four-foot-long tentacle hovered a shiny point of steel.
Nina plunged her sword toward its mid-section, but before her blade struck the robe tore open and a series of limbs unfolded like a fist of crab legs stretching. Behind those tendrils dwelled something hideous. Nina glimpsed it-only a glimpse-before a blast of air in the form of a raucous scream knocked her backwards, rolling away from the monster.
The real face of the Bishop lived there, in what might have once been the chest of a man: a jagged orifice like a broken sore lined with blood-red gums and metal shark’s-teeth; a trio of slits-eyes-around the circumference.
The six smaller tendrils grew foot-long blades of steel. The apparition walked on legs that bulged into stumps where feet should be. It lumbered toward her. The maw huffed and puffed as if catching its breath; each exhale sent a cloud of muck into the air so pungent in smell that it served as a weapon.
Nina gagged and stood, her sword ready; her resolve strong despite the hideous beast she confronted.
The Bishop’s stinger launched as if spring-loaded. Nina side stepped and sliced, eliciting a howl from the round mouth. The other six appendages attacked in a series of lunges, thrusts, and hacks.
She stepped back, left, then right, and countered with a sweep of her blade that cut through the spongy flesh. One of the limbs fell to the ground.
The Bishop staggered a step in retreat. The red eyes narrowed. The stinger darted forward just brushing her shoulder as she leapt away. The three nearest alien blades all stabbed at her; each hitting the floor one after another as she rolled off and collided with the wall of the dome.
Its stinger struck again. She held her sword with the support of both hands and stooped. The blade deflected the attack and the sharp point of the stinger imbedded in the chamber wall. Before the creature could free its primary weapon, Nina hacked it off at the halfway point.
The pain from the blow caused the Bishop to abandon another wave of thrusts by the five remaining smaller limbs. Instead, it made a deranged weeping noise and wobbled backwards.
Nina went on the offensive. The face of the Bishop screamed again. The gust of wind came out like cannon-fire. She stumbled off her feet and back into the chamber wall just below the lost stinger.
With regained the initiative, the beast wobbled forward in a bull-like charge. All five of its remaining weapons came down around her. Instead of retreating-instead of dodging-Nina moved forward, directly at the maw of the thing.
Alien blades crashed into the floor creating a cage of arms. Her face hovered inches away from the massive, smelly orifice; too close to raise the sword with any real force. Strands of slimy saliva dribbled from the gaping mouth. The odor caused a ripple of nausea from her stomach to her throat. The monster opened wide; the jagged jaws poised to bite.
The smell-the noise-the trapped feeling inside the cage of talons… Nina’s internal battle computer forged past the horror and acted on instinct. Before the beast could strike, she stuck the one remaining grenade on her utility belt directly into the mouth.
The Bishop reacted as if choking and hobbled in retreat, pulling free its legs and ignoring her while struggling to dislodge the small object jammed in what mimicked a throat.
Nina jumped up, bound two big steps, and dove to the floor covering her head.