Goddess of the Galacticide Episode 32 - Canyon Drop

Episode 32

The half-open platform bolted underneath the shuttle gave Linuka Omga a stunning panorama of the world their enemy had hidden their most precious individual on.

She saw Cha Dzeeny mouthing some last-moment instructions to the raiding team, more a ritual than a proper briefing, as the marines had trained for the violence they were about to unleash countless times. Even Linuka was no longer certain if the steps of the plan creeping into her dreams were her subconsciousness repeating the drills back to her mind or adjacent realities trickling into her focus.

She would not stay on the ship this time, as Cha Dzeeny had insisted. Linuka had to see the last diin for herself, touch it, sense their world-lines connect and witness the ripples across the multiverse, when she broke the seedling in half.

The system’s star was setting on the planet’s surface flying by below her. Tẽlchi was what the Võmémééř called this world, a beautiful planet with sprawling mesas overgrown with a wealth of plant life, courtesy of the fertile deep purple topsoil imbued with an eclectic mix of microorganisms. Tẽlchi had ranked second on Tswa Sni Sni’s most-probable list for diin-growing worlds in the Dark One’s home galaxy. The top choice had been a dud, despite her former tutor’s database describing it as even lusher than Tẽlchi. But the Coalition’s attack left a planetary energy conversion site cleaved open, huffing toxins and acids into the atmosphere until it could melt metals.

Eleven orbits since her father initiated Protocol One. The Võmémééř’s realm was still burning.

Tẽlchi was different. Pristine. No cities-turned-craters on the surface, no debris fields near the system. Maybe the Võmémééř treated it like a sanctuary far from their busy civilization, reserved for their leader caste to grow. The Chéé’s scanner had picked up a singular cluster of buildings. Similarities with Green Wave—the cursed jungle planet—came to mind. Their re-purposed alien shuttle flew higher than needed, trying to balance staying out of range from potential hostile flora and under the scanning cone of the diin facility.

An open platform allowed the marines to snipe individual targets on the final approach, reserving the use of the two installed strip beams for gun emplacements and armored enemies.

The Chéé ripping the buildings out of the planet’s crust and into space would have been easier, less risky, but Linuka had to see the diin up close, feel its life energy sourcing the existence of their nemesis, keeping them alive in a handful of realities. Cha’s marines had supported the assault option. It fit their training, their purpose. The men and women must have felt the significance. Cha Dzeeny was a living legend among them; one of the few who had ventured to this forsaken galaxy before, fighting the Dark Ones. Their daring raid gave them a chance to end the threat, closing a long, violent chapter of galactic history.

“This is it,” said Cha Dzeeny, pointing over Linuka’s shoulder. “The landing pad. Our target is located in the canyon just behind it.”

He inspected her helmet controls.

“Commander,” said Linuka. “I have the lumination adjustments turned on. I know it’s going to be dark in the canyon. And I promise: this time I won’t lose my handgun.”

Cha smiled. “Of course, Shaajis. I just wanted..”

“I know,” said Linuka. “Thank you for coming all the way here with me.”

He nodded. “My privilege.”

“All Specters, Ghost-1.”

The Remnant cores had taken a liking to the human callsigns. Their ‘number one’ was piloting the shuttle and operating the beam weapons.

“Surface contacts in 5 ticks.”

The marines aimed their automatics over the outer rectangle fence of metal plating, providing improvised cover. Linuka’s gut contracted, the Uurmi in her intestines readied itself for battle, no doubt the adrenaline in her bloodstream giving away the rush of anticipation. This was going to be different from Green Wave. Or the Prral Base. Here, they were going to win.

They shot over the landing pad, losing altitude fast. Movement on the ground, individual blobs circling around the structure. Naw, probably. The working caste. Deaf and blind, the only way they could sense their attackers coming was through changes in atmospheric humidity. Cha Dzeeny had picked starset as the time for the attack. Humidity was low after a long warm day, dulling the workers’ perception.

Cracking sounds. Hypersonic projectiles showered the ground. Splashes appeared where the blobs had been. Linuka’s hand reached for her gun. The rain of death was liberating. She drew her gun and fired. No target. No aim. Just adding to the pelting of the purple soil. Every time she pulled the trigger, a load blasted off her body, off her mind. Carrying so much death. Destruction. Mother. Father. Click. Click.

The gun was empty and whirred in her hand, cramping the grip. Tactical gel pressure-printed into fresh rounds, re-filling the magazine.

Before the buzz sound confirmed the gun could be fired again, the floor gave way from under her. The shuttle dove into the canyon, and the cracking sounds paused for the shortest of moments.

Her helmet visor adjusted to the low light. She saw a naw falling from the cliff just next to the landing pad above. Was the alien hit, or jumped to its death? It spread a set of small wings. Fall turned descent, then it vanished in the mayhem below. The valley floor crawled with aliens, stirring up clouds of dust and water vapor. They lived deep in the canyon, where the humidity was still high—and they could see.

“Keep firing!”

The commander’s voice yelled, but his posture betrayed the urgency. Aiming, firing, and hitting naw who Linuka hadn’t even spotted, were one continuous motion for her holy warrior. The shuttle’s descent slowed, making aiming easier, and the firing intensified, marines switching to full auto, the individual cracks giving way to a continuous roar. Linuka couldn’t tell if the dying below shrieked or moaned as the canyon walls echoed the weapon fire.

A bright light. A corner of the metal platform vanished along with two marines, cut off by an unseen force, leaving a diagonal line, glowing red hot.

“Dark One warriors! Mark targets. Ghost-1, Specter-1, ready for fire support.”

Linuka had never seen a naw, but she remembered the colossal horrors that were the iiṇawr: near black, multi-legged living tanks, more massive than a Traaz. She had seen a few dead ones, killed by defenders who accepted a staggering loss of life for the feat.

When the ancients first saw them, they named the entire alien civilization after them: the Dark Ones.

“Get down!”

Linuka’s arm got pulled violently. She lost balance and smashed onto the base plate. Pain stung from her shoulder blade into her neck. Blinding lights whirred above her. Screaming. Cracking. Free fall. Smashing onto the plate once more when it hit the canyon floor.

“Shaajis?”

Cha Dzeeny. Covered in blood. Not his. Half a marine spasmed next to him, his guts pouring out of his abdomen. The canyon got darker. Wavering mist parted. The origin of the beam, which cut marines and firing platform pillars alike, towered over the fallen humans, dazed or dying.

Too many legs to count. Portable beam attached to claw protrusions, swinging a speeder-sized cleaver over its armored hulk.

What a fool Linuka had been.

Click here for next episode

---

Copyright © 2025 Bert Oliver Boehmer. All rights reserved. No part of this serialized novel may be reproduced, reposted, or distributed in any form without the prior written permission of the author. The creation of any derivative works (including translations, adaptations, or other transformations) is likewise prohibited without permission. The use of any portion of this material for training or developing artificial intelligence or other machine learning models is strictly forbidden.