Insectile chittering drifted toward her, growing louder now. Louder.
… Louder.
Kira pressed against the back of the alcove. Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Don’t—
Four nightmares moved into view. Three of them were much like she’d seen before: raw-skinned mutations that crept along the deck upon four and six legs respectively, their fang-laden snouts swinging back and forth as they searched for prey. The fourth nightmare was different. It was humanoid, with only one pair of legs, and arms that began as segmented lengths of carapace and then transitioned into tentacles without suckers. Its elongated head had deep-set eyes as blue as Falconi’s and a mouth with tiny, moving mandibles that looked sharp enough to bite through steel. An armored lump between its legs hinted at some sort of genitalia.
The creature was frighteningly alert; it kept glancing around, checking corners, making sure no one was creeping up on them. There was an intelligence to it that Kira hadn’t sensed among the other nightmares. And something more: the skin on its plated torso shimmered in a way that seemed uncomfortably familiar, although she couldn’t quite figure out why.…
A fast chitter came from the humanoid, and the three other nightmares responded by forming a tight knot around it.
Despite her overriding concern with protecting Trig and herself, Kira was intrigued. They hadn’t seen any evidence of hierarchy among the nightmares so far. If the humanoid was one of their leaders, then … maybe killing it would disrupt the others.
No. Attracting attention would just cause more problems. Don’t see me. Don’t see me.…
It took all her self-control to hold still as the nightmares approached. Every instinct toward self-preservation urged her to leap out and attack before they spotted her, but the more rational part of her counseled patience, and for whatever reason, she listened.
And the nightmares didn’t see her.
As they hurried past, she smelled them: a burnt, cinnamon-like scent laced with a sickening mix of shit and putrefaction. Whatever they were, the creatures weren’t healthy. Two of the beast-like nightmares glanced in her direction as they passed by. Their eyes were tiny and red-rimmed and wept drops of yellowish fluid.
Confusion gripped Kira. Why hadn’t they noticed her? The alcove wasn’t that deep. She looked down at herself and, for a moment, felt dizzy; all she saw was the shadowed shape of the wall. She lifted her hand in front of herself. Nothing. Perhaps a small amount of glass-like distortion around the edges of her fingers, but that was it.
Trig’s encased body was still visible, but nothing about it seemed to attract the attention of the nightmares.
Kira grinned. She couldn’t help it. The Soft Blade was bending the light around her, same as with the invisibility cloak she and her sister had played with as kids. Only this was better. Less distortion.
The nightmares continued down the corridor another few meters. Then the one with six legs paused and swung its skull-like head back in her direction. Its nostrils flared as it tested the air, and its cracked lips retracted from its teeth in an evil snarl.
Shit. Just because the aliens couldn’t see her didn’t mean they couldn’t smell her.…
The six-legged nightmare hissed and started to turn back toward her, digging its claws into the deck for traction.
Kira didn’t wait. She loosed a yell and jumped after the creature. With one hand, she stabbed out toward it, and the Soft Blade complied by impaling the sore-covered nightmare with a triangular blade that then sprouted a pincushion of black needles.
The creature squealed, thrashed, and went limp.
With her other hand, Kira stabbed the next nightmare in line and killed it in the same fashion.
Two down, two to go.
The humanoid nightmare aimed a small device at her. A loud thump hit Kira in both her ears and her hip, knocking her off course. Her hip went numb, and pain radiated up her spine, sending electric shocks shooting through the nerves in her arms.
She gasped and, for a moment, found herself unable to move.
The other beast-like nightmare jumped her then. The impact knocked them both tumbling down the corridor. Kira covered her face with her arms as the creature attempted to savage her with its snapping jaws. Teeth skated across the hardened surface of the Soft Blade while claws scrabbled harmlessly against her belly.
Despite her instinctual fright, the nightmare couldn’t seem to hurt her.
Then it drew back its head and, from its gaping mouth, sprayed a stream of greenish liquid across her head and chest.
An acrid smell hit her nostrils, and wisps of smoke rose from the patches of skin hit by the liquid. But she felt no pain.
The creature had sprayed her with acid. The realization outraged Kira. How dare you?! If not for the Soft Blade, the acid would have burned her beyond recognition.
She jammed her fists into the creature’s mouth. With a heave of her arms, she tore its head apart, spraying blood and flesh across the walls.
Panting, she looked for the humanoid nightmare, intending to kill it as well.
The humanoid was right next to her, mandibles spread to reveal round, pearl-like teeth. Then it spoke, in a hissing, growling voice: “You! Forgotten flesssh! You ssshall join the maw!”
Shock delayed Kira’s reaction. The nightmare took the opportunity to wrap a tentacle around her right arm, and a current of fire seemed to course through her skin and into her brain.
A horrible sense of recognition seized her, and she howled as her vision flared white.
2.
She saw herself from two different angles, standing in the storage room aboard the Extenuating Circumstances. The perspective was confusing: competing viewpoints that overlapped and intermingled to produce a warped re-creation of the moment. As with the images, she felt a jumbled mix of emotions, none of which seemed to relate: surprise, fear, triumph, anger, contempt, regret.
One of her perspectives was trying to hide, pulling itself behind a rack of equipment with speed born of terror. The other seemed confident, unafraid. It remained where it was and attacked, hot beams of light slicing through the air.
She saw herself flee toward the exit, but too slow, far too slow. Black spikes bristled from her skin in random, undisciplined outbursts.
Then she turned, face contorted with fear and anger as she lifted the pistol she’d taken from the dead crew member. The muzzle flashed, and bullets smacked into a wall.
The perspective that was afraid was shouting and waving, desperate for her to stop.
The perspective that wasn’t, evaded, darting across the walls. It felt no concern.
Sparks flashed as lasers vaporized bullets.
Then one of the bullets hit the red-labeled pipe at the back of the room, and her perspectives flew apart amid a thunderclap. A moment of blankness, and when perception returned, it was further fractured. Now there were three sets of memories, and none of them familiar. The newest addition was smaller, less distinct than the others; it did not see with eyes, yet was still aware of its surroundings in a vague and cloudy way. And it was possessed of the same fear and anger she had experienced, only now amplified by confusion and lack of direction.
The explosion had torn open the hull of the Extenuating Circumstances. Wind clawed at the separate parts of her, and then she was spinning through space. Three different minds beheld the same kaleidoscope of stars, and pain racked her trinity of torn flesh. Of the three, the original two seemed weaker: their vision dimmed as consciousness faded. But not the third. Damaged it was, afraid and angry it was, incomplete it was, but not yet deprived of motive force.