The heel-handed punch came reflexively, the palm of her hand seared as she knocked away a living pipeline intent on swinging a gout of inferno into her face. All around her, steel bent and fractured, chunks of razor-edged metal flew, and then she heard the alien screech and solid thunk of steel obliterating bone as a jagged sliver three feet across buried itself into Myyaelae’s leg, pinned him to the floor. In the center of it all, in the center of the ruin and the fire, the hot, debris choked air that lay wavy over a wide swath of broken destruction, she saw it, saw him. Blue skin bound by a writhing exoskeletal mass of liquid steel flickered jellied and sapphire at the end of the shattered corridor.

Strength rushed into Tessa’s body, an anger and a confidence fueled by her hatred of the Coralate, the need that rose within her to use all that she had been given, all that she had fought for to crush this thing that was hunting them, hunting her, this alien abomination that, in her eyes, seemed almost to represent the entire species that had driven humanity so far back toward the core of what had once been the mighty Terran Commonwealth, had killed billions seemingly without reason, without provocation, without mercy. Teeth bared beyond thinning lips, fingers flexing, hands tense, strong, ready. She felt the new implant stirring within her even before her feet left the ground, even before the Cygnan ripped a support from overhead and hurled it at her like a massive, spinning spear. Movement came on reflex; another implant laced within her system came online, flared golden, an aura of hot light that slowed the support’s approach just enough to catch, hands tensing against the distant weight as the steel beam froze improbably in the air less than a foot from her. She swallowed, panted with the effort of holding it, then closed her eyes, willed it out of existence.

Splitting apart into a thousand wet droplets of chrome that washed across and around her, the beam flowed through hot air and solidified into a broken mass, a heap of cool, glassy slag between her and Myyaelae.

“Nice try, asshole.” She panted, eyes narrowed, watching. The Cygnan stirred for a moment, almost as if watching her back, studying her. Breath came labored, tired, laced with the burn of exertion. Tessa licked her lips, swallowed. “Look at you.” She panted. “Not so bad anymore, huh? How’s it feel to face down someone who can bend steel like you?” The Cygnan shivered and clicked, humming and modulating that hum with clacks and movements of its knife-like digits.
And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, darting back off into darkness so quickly she could hardly track the movement. Tessa blinked, her hands tightening, flexing to hard fists. Hatred flared within her, drove her forward.

“M– major!”

Tessa hesitated midstep. Slowly, sluggishly, realization came back, memories, the strings of responsibilities rising up before her like a wall, keeping her from rushing off after the Cygnan. She closed her eyes, breathed a sigh. Myyaelae.

She turned slowly, let her eyes find his. “He’s gone.” Bared teeth and oozing blood yanked her attention to his leg, and within seconds she was at his side, hands hesitating inches from touching the shard that had caught him, left him immobilized. “Jesus, Myyaelae.”

“Your human gods and messianic figures aside, Major,” he gasped, voice half calm, half pleading. “It is incredibly painful.”

“Maybe I can. . .” She swallowed, hesitated again. Beyond the flames, the wreckage, something moved, creaked. Tessa drew a sharp breath, bared her teeth against the dull ache building again in her tissues, intensifying as it spread through her flesh. She looked back at the Gnarian, almost afraid to touch the chunk of steel in his leg. “We’ve got to get this out of you.”

“It will be difficult, but I will try to walk.” He swallowed, looked up, met her hard, calculating eyes. “Once it is removed.” He made a strange gesture. “The hangar is not far.”

“Good.” Her fingers flexed anxiously. “Because I don’t think I can carry a big guy like you very far, at least not this soon out of surgery.”

Myyaelae nodded in understanding. “If I begin to slow you down, then you should abandon me.”
“Shut up a second and let me get this thing out of you.” Tessa said, chastising softly. In the silence, she met his eyes levelly, studied the seriousness there for a moment before she shook her head and turned back to the shard of steel. “This is probably going to hurt.” Myyaelae made another silent, enigmatic gesture, leaned back, closed his eyes.

Swallowing against her reservations, her doubts, her fears, Tessa pulled in a deep breath, forced herself to focus as she closed her eyes. Tracking down the mental triggers for the implant didn’t come easy– the dull ache lingered on in her mind like static, numbing senses, hiding edges of concept that had once been sharp, clear. In the haze, hands found the shard, found the hot, blood-matted flesh of Myyaelae’s leg, found the structure, the flow of the steel, played into latent movement, followed each cohesive atom as they moved together, flexed apart. Willing the steel to move consciously, pursuing it instead of flinging it into action by sheer reflex, was more difficult, required more control. Brows furrowed, lips parting, and then, as her hands flexed across the steel one final time, it all gave way, running out of his leg and across the floor like quicksilver.

“Alright.” She panted, dropping back on her haunches, then offering him a hand as she stumbled upright again. “Lets go. Let’s. . . let’s get you out of here.”

Myyaelae nodded gravely. “It will be close.”

“How long?” She asked, wiping a thin trickle of crimson from the corner of her mouth with the edge of a burnt and blood-darkened sleeve. The ache was getting worse, flaring in her chest and spreading like the throb of torn tissue, broken bone, but it didn’t matter. Ignoring it, she managed a quiet: “Do you know?”

“Vaguely.” The Gnarian winced. “We have less than ten minutes.”

“Should be enough time to get clear.” She glanced absently up the hallway. “How big of an effect radius are we dealing with?”

“Ten kilometers.” Came Myyaelae’s level response.

“Not bad.” Tessa managed the edge of a grin. “Still, we better get the heck out of here before that timer gets any lower. Implosions that suck all matter into N-Space have never really sounded like they’d be that much fun to experience first hand.”

“Agreed.” He turned, extended an arm. “I will, unfortunately, require some modicum of assistance.”

Tessa grinned, slipped under his arm, supported him as they pushed forward through the wreckage.

“Sure, I think I can manage that.”