Fifty-four
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 Invaders in the hanger.
 The statement roused Cyclone from hibernation and he turned to the barracks exit. A barred gate lifted up into a crack between black stone, under which he strode forth. As he walked his skin hardened with blood and Maelstrom energies into a tough biological armor of sorts, and spikes grew from his arms. Other combat-armed Stromlings joined him, they all walked in the same direction to form a single unit headed directly to the hangers, where the attackers were.
 The Nexus Force.
 Something stirred in Cyclone as he comprehended the name of their opponent.  Nexus Forcers must be smashed and Imagination must be corrupted, that was the Maelstromâs mission. He had been Nexus Force, he and others with him, and he had no loyalty to themâ¦
 Go.
 Smash.
 The others.
 Smash the others.
 â¦not anymore.
 The state of his mind could not be described as alert. As a drone-type of Stromling, his mind was activated, enough to move, fight, answer questions, and follow orders. But he wasnât like Demonstrait or Spakybob. Not yet, at least. He could also aspire. Every Stromling could aspire to be more powerful, to get closer to the Darkitect.
 To become a Darkitect.
 He was also aware of the abilities he held. As a former Nexus Figure-turned-Stromling, Cyclone had powers no other Stromling did. He retained his indefatigable creative spark that could manipulate so much Imagination. Like the Imagination Templeâs Nexus on Crux, the one found by the Four Explorers, it too could be corrupted. It had been.
 Then something clicked in his brain. Comprehension. In front of Cyclone was a steel-plated door.  He had reached the end of the line. The combat zone. He was no longer a mindless drone.
 Dark forces had appointed him mission commander.
 The door rose and smoke billowed into the hall. It cleared enough to reveal the baseâs hanger in a state of war. Fog from flames of the fiery type filled the hangerâs massive airspace. Fuel containers were ignited and damaged spacecraft were in various states of disrepair all across the hanger. Laser fire from all angles formed a haphazard no-manâs-land between it all, and Cyclone ran into it. The Stromlings from the hallway followed suit.
 Their orders were to find the Nexus Force and smash them.
 The massive reflective face of a spaceship appeared out of the smoke in an arcing descent. With a metallic screech it struck the ground to Cycloneâs left and crushed ten Stromlings while sliding into a pile of fuel canisters. The impact ignited the combustible product and the subsequent explosion sent Stromlings flying all around Cyclone, but he maintained his footing.
 The shockwave pushed the smoke aside and he spotted a Nexus Forcer. The Sentinel soldier stood atop the tilted hull of another spaceship. With a Knightâs sword in his right hand he cut down Stromling after Stromling as they climbed the shipâs curved hull and attacked, one by one, from various directions. Uncoordinated, Cyclone thought, and he directed a telepathic order to the Stromlings in that arbitrarily defined area to standby.
 A rocket, small, single-seat, flew out from the smoke on a descending course like the spaceship. Cyclone put all his attention on the rocket. It was spinning end over end, so quickly that he could barely see its details. He only caught a smidgen of its cockpit section with each tumbling rotation. A little more, a little more, and he kept getting closer to the ground. It crashed and skidded into a wall, taking out a row of Mechs, but by that time Cyclone had already turned his attention back to the Sentinel.
 As he suspected, the rocket was unmanned.
 Someone was throwing rockets.
 He thought back to spaceship that had crushed ten Stromlings and sent flying many others.
 Someone was throwing rockets to smash the Maelstrom forces. Obviously it was a Nexus Forcerâs doing, and it was a good idea, apparently. Cyclone could use it too.
 Coils of Maelstrom energy began to expand from his arms when he raised them, reaching out like the chains of the Blades of Chaos for the first spaceship that had crashed down after his entrance to the hanger. The flaming mass was lifted into the air behind Cyclone, and he pointed it right at the lone Sentinel atop the other ship in front of him.
 Suave Able Cat.
 Cyclone remembered the Sentinelâs name just after the thrust the mass of flaming carbon and steel on an arc through the air that would crush the Sentinel to oblivion.
 He knew he was a high ranking officer in the Nexus Force, and that smashing him would demoralize the Nexus Force invaders. Time was running out for Suave in his dangerous position, vulnerable to falling spaceships. If he did not jump out of the way soon, he would surely be crushed, Cyclone predicted. Crucial seconds passed before the Sentinel noticed the shadow growing around him, and the flaming spaceship. Lethal seconds. Cyclone knew it was too late for him.
 The spaceship suddenly stopped in midair and its velocity shifted from a forward arc to a straight-down descent. It fell with a crash well clear of Suave Able Catâs perch, to crush one the group of Stromlings Cyclone had ordered to standby.
 Apparently Cyclone hadnât been the only one to notice Suaveâs otherwise imminent demise.
 Another Sentinel had her hands extended forwards at the aflame spaceship now shattered on the ground. Her arms dropped and came back up with a glowing katana and a drawn bow held in hand. The latter was pointed at Cyclone, but only for a second.
 He watched as she tilted the weapon downward, no longer at his heart. Not that it mattered, he could have deflected it in an instant. Not that that mattered, since Kate would never kill Cyclone.
 Or would she?
 A stray piece of information entered Cycloneâs consciousness from the Maelstrom hive mind. Important information directly concerning him, or rather his survival, based on the fate of... another Cyclone. A version of Cyclone from another dimension had successfully been turned. He had battled this same group of Nexus Forcers on a third dimensionâs Avant Gardens, and they had killed him.
 The data was more specific.
 Kate had killed him.
 She could kill him.
 And Cyclone was gripped with fear. He recalled all his energies, the coils of Maelstrom, around his body. A shield. They could be enough to protect him from-
 Kateâs voice rang out. âI wonât kill you, Cyclone!â
 Cyclone blinked and looked out from his shield.
 Kateâs bow was set on her back. Her sword was still held protectively before her, but above her left hand, upturned, glowed a surging quasar of volatile Imagination energy. The same energy that had killed the other Cyclone, he noted through narrowed eyes.
 âYou can be disinfected.â Kate said. âThink about who you are!â
 Cyclone did think. His infection had been complete. During the process, an Imagination clone of his had almost been created, but it had been smashed immediately. The link that had sustained his connection to Imagination in the time when he had first been infected, three years prior, did not exist now.
 So when he thought about himself, he saw himself as a Stromling
  A minion of the Maelstrom.
 A commissioner of chaos.
 A Servant of Darkness.
 âDo you think that lowly of me?!â Cyclone heard a Stromlingâs voice shout out. He experienced a moment of disassociation, as the voice was low in pitch but clear unlike other the voice of other Stromlings. Heâd never heard it before and it resonated with power. He realized it was his voice. It was the voice of a Darkitect.
 He was like a Darkitect.
 He was a Darkitect.
 âI am a Darkitect.â
 âNo,â Kate shook her head. âYouâre Gallant Strong Cyclone. Youâre my friend and I owe you everything to save you!â
 âYou donât owe me anything!â Cyclone roared in anger. âOnly⦠your death!â And he directed all his stored Maelstrom energy toward Kate. It engulfed the air around her.
 Then he felt a searing pain in his back and Cyclone screamed. The spikes in his shoulders extended two feet and he wanted to whirl around and kill his attacker, but his legs were suddenly disconnected at his knees, first his right then his left, and he fell to the ground.
 His arms were dislocated next. It wasnât like Cyclone needed them to direct his Maelstrom energies, since he controlled them telepathically. But then the back of his neck was pricked and all feeling below his jaw was lost, including his connection to his infected creative spark. Even a bag was thrown over his head for good measure. He knew it must have had even more stunning properties.
 He was completely immobilized, as good as dead as a fish out of water, but he wasnât dead. Whoever had done this to him had acted with the specific purpose of keeping Cyclone alive. They wanted to âdisinfectâ him, they wanted to âsaveâ him. It was insulting!  He could not let that happen.
 He urged his body to work. His spinal cord hadnât been severed⦠only his nerves were temporarily numbed.  He found his vocal cords and began to scream. A little farther down his torso, pulsing with the beat of his heart, he felt his corrupted creative spark⦠he called on his Maelstrom energy-
 A boot smashed into his head and Cyclone was knocked unconscious.
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<ac_metadata title="Song of the Swans Chapter 54"> </ac_metadata>