by C. S. Harte
“Always forward.” Dren nodded. A lot of bad things. What an understatement...
The conversation stopped for a few kilometers before Kingston started it again. “I’ve seen people kill one another for food or push another person off a ship because they thought it was full. Think about that.” Kingston tapped his temple with his index finger. “Mimics have pushed humanity to near extinction, and we’re still killing one another for stupid reasons. I get the sense you want something or someone to blame. But I don’t think you should direct your target at religion or a god. Sure, humans use religion as a justification for evil sometimes. It’s used all the time to warp and control the hearts and minds of the many. Study a little about Earth history, and this is self-evident. But it’s not that religion itself is evil. Evil just exists, you know? Evil people just exist. They don’t need a justification. In the end, we’re all responsible for our own actions, regardless of how and why we did them. You get what I mean?”
Dren considered his existence to be proof evil existed. Agony was only the starting point to explain the cruelty of being reborn with the knowledge and experience of each of his deaths.
Fatigue set in Dren’s muscles as his strength neuromod faded. Kingston was breathing just as hard.
Red dots popped up on Dren’s mini-map. Two dozen of them.
The squad halted.
“COVER!” Kara ordered.
Dren immediately dropped the artillery container. Each marine dove behind trees and rocks, and stayed crouched to make themselves smaller targets.
The red dots stood still as if waiting for Phoenix Company to advance.
Daylight had mostly faded. The triple moons of Gedia Prime took on a magenta aura as it reflected the sun, giving a purple tint to the sky.
In the corner of his eye to his right, Dren noticed RAI-17 in her easily distinguishable white flight suit. She’s not here… It’s not possible for her to be here. Not possible… Dren checked his mini-map. No corresponding dot showed a life form where she was standing. Still, RAI-17 gestured at Dren to follow. She had a glow to her, a light usually reserved for his ghosts. None of this made sense.
“Do you see something?” Kingston asked.
“Huh?” Dren gasped.
“Do you see any Voidi?”
“Oh… No, Sarge.” Dren stood slowly. “But I want to check out a hunch…”
“What? No!” Kingston ordered. “Stay down!”
“SQUIDS!” Jann shouted over squad-wide comm.
Instantly, the air lit up with weapons’ fire in all directions.
Kara barked orders that never made it past the wall of explosions and death screams.
Dren ignored the Sergeant’s command. He half-crouched, half-crawled toward RAI-17. When he reached her, the ground gave way. A hole opened and swallowed him, Tempest suit and all, into an abyss.
11
Muffled screams and shouts of panic spurted over suit comm, urging the unconscious Dren to wake.
Slowly, Dren’s eyes dragged themselves open. He lay on his back looking up at a hole 150-meters above. His arms and legs were rigid and saturated with pain. He groaned as he focused on a prominent warning message in the center of his HUD. The joint locks were still active, a Tempest suit safety feature to prevent life-threatening falling deaths from great heights.
An image of his body overlaid on his HUD. Flashing red lights highlighted hairline fractures in both tibias and his left forearm. When Dren was unconscious, his suit automatically initiated healing protocols and injected stem cell stimulants and bio-nanobots into his bloodstream. A countdown showed an estimated 13 minutes before his body finished its self-repair.
The barking of orders mixed with weapons’ fire pushed Dren toward lucidity. It was hard to make out the details through the yelling, but it sounded like Phoenix Company was losing the battle against the Voidi. Were we ambushed?
“Fall back!” shouted a muffled Kingston. “Everyone back to…” The comm cut off. Commander Kara must have fallen for the Sarge to order a retreat.
“Kingston… Jann…” Dren breathed weakly. I need to make it back to my squad… The green dots on Dren’s mini-map disappeared one by one; leaving no friendlies to help him.
“Get up,” RAI-17 said, standing over Dren.
With his only good limb, Dren tried to reach for her. “Are you really here?”
She moved away from him.
“Wait…” Dren tried to push himself up. Pain flooded his senses as he held in a scream.
11 minutes to go until his bones mended.
He injected a combat stim, trying to numb the hurt. It also helped lift the fog from his mind. “Why did you lead me here?”
She didn’t answer.
Voids! Why did I follow her? She’s a figment of my imagination… Believing in his delusions was getting him killed over and over. Each time he reshelled, the delusions seemed to gain a bit more life. He wondered if he had already reached the threshold where the lies became more real than the truth.
8 minutes left.
Feeling strength return to his broken arm, Dren flexed his left hand and curled his wrist. No pain. He lifted his upper body into a sitting position. “This is Private Dren Arvol to anyone in Phoenix Company…”
No one responded.
He switched to battalion-wide comms. “This is Private Dren Arvol to anyone still alive…”
Again, nothing.
RAI-17 vanished.
Figures. He looked up at the hole he came through. The walls looked smooth with few handholds. There’s no way I’ll be able to climb out. He considered self-destructing and reshelling back at Salvation Station. “I’d rather stay here forever than reshell.” He scoffed, not wanting to give Walder the satisfaction of seeing him again.
6 minutes.
Impatience got the better of Dren. Using a dead branch for assistance, he willed himself to stand.
The walls of the cave had a sheen to them. He noticed slight, imperceptible movements. “What the…” He zoomed in with his ocular implant.
Flea-sized, sand-colored bugs obscured every centimeter of the cave wall. “Great… I hope they don’t carry alien diseases like Earth fleas…”
4 minutes.
All the green dots disappeared on his mini-map. Oddly, so did the red dots. His mini-map covered a radius of 100 meters. Either everyone was dead, or they all ran away. “This is Private Dren Arvol of Phoenix Company,” he said trying battalion-wide channel again. “Anyone still alive?”
Silence.
Maybe I’m too far underground…
2 minutes.
Slowly, the gravity of the situation sank in for Dren. He was alone on an alien planet with a near infinite amount of Voidi warriors, monsters capable of tearing off human limbs. Worse still, he was trapped underground with no means of getting help in a cave crawling with potentially disease-ridden, lightning fast moving bugs. Dren closed his eyes and took in three measured breaths.
A chime went off in his Tempest suit. The healing protocols finished. Dren gingerly switched weight from cane to feet. He winced as a sharp, stabbing pain pulsed just below his knees. The suit’s bio-healing system was designed for minor injuries like lacerations and blunt-force trauma, not for near-death injuries like multiple broken bones or organ failure. Fortunately, he had no organ failings.
Every part of Dren was sore, but he was alive, and his mobility gradually returned. He picked up his weapon and examined it for damages. “Mattix rifles — they really do stand up to any punishment.”
Movement registered in the corner of his vision. “Who’s there?”
Another one of Dren’s ghosts followed him into the hole.
“Hey!” Dren yelled. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
The specter kept his back turned to Dren.
“I’m talking to them now…” Dren released a deep exhale.
The ghost floated through a stone wall.
Out of frustration, Dren tossed a rock at the wall wh
ere the spirit disappeared. To his amazement, the rock went through the wall. This planet is full of secrets… He approached the facade and stuck his hand through. Another illusion… Dren passed through the wall to see his ghost waiting on the other side. Together they were in a long, dark tunnel that extended farther than his suit light could reach.
“Lead the way…” Dren gestured at his ghost. The spirit seemed to understand him as it floated forward. Dark tunnel on an alien planet, what could go wrong?
Every few seconds the ghost disappeared only to reappear 20 meters ahead like it was skipping through time.
Dren turned on his speed neuromod to keep up. His suit battery dropped to 45% and was draining quickly under heavy usage.
After 20 minutes of chasing at full sprint speeds, Dren finally saw a light at the end. He slowed his pace and proceeded with caution.
The walls transitioned from rock to a bronze-like metal, the same type found on the planet surface at the site of the ancient alien civilizations. The floor gradually sloped downward into a ramp.
Red dots popped up on his mini-map.
Dren continued his advance until he reached a waterfall marking the end of the tunnel. Standing just behind the curtain of water were multiple pairs of Voidi warriors stationed at regular intervals around a massive underground facility. Dren inadvertently found a backdoor into one of the Voidi bases.
In the facility’s center was a massive blue and white sphere of energy. Its surface ebbed and flowed, rippling like it was made of electricity and water combined.
Two Voidi cut in front of the waterfall. They were escorting a humanoid alien with the height and physique of a teenage girl except she had lilac skin and larger than normal eyes for her to be human. Her hands were bound with chains made of pure light. She had a strange device around her neck that emitted pulses of electricity via spikes.
The alien girl glanced at Dren as she walked past the waterfall.
Did she know I was here? Dren kept his stare on her until they passed through a large set of double doors. Looks like the Voidi have other enemies other than humans… Somehow, he needed to convey this information to Fleet Intel. He scanned for possible pathways of escape.
“Who are you?” asked an unfamiliar feminine voice.
Dren immediately spun around with his finger on the rifle trigger. No one was behind him. He spent the next minute trying to drown out his racing heart as he searched for the source of the question. After a minute, he concluded that his ghosts were playing tricks on him again. His focus switched back to escaping. Going back the way he came wasn’t going to work; no means to climb out of the hole. The only way out was through the Voidi warriors.
Could I take out the guards? The sentries haven’t rotated or moved an inch since he arrived. Will they ever? For the next sol-hour, he watched the Voidi, hoping to find an opening in their defense.
Suit power dropped to 22%.
External temperatures were cooler underground. Atmospheric oxygen was at 26.7%. He could get by without life support and breathe the planet’s air. Not ideal given the unknown microbes in the alien world, but was becoming necessary to conserve power.
Feral growling noises sprung from behind him.
Did I imagine that or is there a wolf behind me? This time he turned around slowly.
Standing in front of Dren was a Voidi warrior. He seemed exceptionally larger than the others, overshadowing the two-meter tall Dren by a good half-meter. His scaly, gray skin stretched taut from the rippling muscle underneath. Dozens of metal rings, thick as heavy chains, hung from his arms, legs, and torso. Weathered, iron armor attached to those rings. On the crown of his head, a glowing ruby light cast a demonic hue against the smooth metal walls. The Voidi growled again. The tentacle-like appendages under his mouth wriggled as he did.
He’s not a ghost… Dren was in imminent danger. Using his weapon would surely attract the other Voidis. Can I kill him with my bare hands?
Dren lowered his rifle to the ground slowly. “Easy there?” He feigned a smile. “I’m not looking for a fight. Just a little lost. Could you point me to…” Dren activated his strength and speed neuromod simultaneously. He had to disable his suit limiters to do that. Migraines flared in his head — one of the many nasty side effects of enabling multiple neuromods at once.
The Voidi lunged at Dren who swiftly sidestepped his attacker.
Dren countered with a devastating blow to the armored torso of the Voidi. He heard metal crinkling mixed with bone crunching.
The Voidi howled in pain but remained standing. The other Voidi guards were stationary, oblivious to the cry for help, according to the mini-map.
Seeing the opening, Dren quickly moved to deliver a crushing blow to the Voidi’s face.
Blood, or a viscous green liquid that appeared to be blood, sprayed from its mouth.
Dren delivered the killing blow with his leg, kicking the downed Voidi in the chest, crushing it in. The Voidi laid motionless on the ground. The red light on its scalp slowly dimmed.
I killed him? Dren’s eyes lit up in both excitement and shock. I killed a Voidi with my bare hands! Easier than I thought… A giant grin appeared on his face.
The ruby dome on the Voidi’s scalp blinked.
What now… Dren slowly picked up his rifle and backed away.
The blinking grew faster and faster until it stayed a solid red for two seconds. Then, the Voidi’s corpse exploded enacting its final revenge on Dren.
12
Captain Alyana Harrows, Special Assistant to the Fleet Marshal, stood perched atop the observation level of the spaceport on Salvation Station. She was waiting for the delivery of a prisoner captured by the 8th Marine Battalion from the Gedia battlefront. According to initial reports, this prisoner identified herself as Samara, Voice of House Taumate, and was the first Chordan ever captured alive by Fleet forces. The Whisper who caught Samara noted she was a prisoner in Voidi custody. They found her in what appeared to be the Voidi equivalent of a detention center.
For once, Fleet was the beneficiary of a fantastic stroke of luck in finding the underground, secret Voidi base on Gedia Prime. A lone marine wandered off in the middle of an engagement, fell into a hole, and got himself killed while fighting a Voidi warrior. When his squad followed his suit beacon, they discovered the base and successfully organized an assault and capture of the facility. Unfortunately, most of the Voidi warriors escaped through the Anchor. In their haste to flee, they left the Chordan prisoner behind.
The only previous encounter with a Chordan Voice was recounted in the after action report of a presumed deceased Fleet officer, Captain Meomi Hana. In her detailed logs, she equated Voices to Entrents, serving the same role as inter-species interpreters. Captain Hana also believed them to be dangerous due to well-developed telepathic and telekinetic abilities. There was no mention within Meomi’s reports about the yet-to-be-identified restraints around the prisoner’s neck and hands that emitted a constant, soft white glow. Fleet scientists theorized the devices to be specialized restraints developed by the Voidi to contain the natural abilities of Voices.
Alyana observed the large company of Whispers and marines lining the perimeter of the space dock. Her right arm clutched at her left as she wondered if she requested enough soldiers for security or if it was altogether a mistake to seek the transport of such a potentially dangerous prisoner to a Fleet stronghold. If Samara were as formidable as Meomi said a Voice could be, she would be an advantageous ally.
Every day there would be something that reminded Alyana of her old friend, Captain Meomi Hana. They only had a few months together, the time leading up to the Battle of Final Hope on board the Valor. When they weren’t trying to stay one step ahead of the Mimic invasion or fighting to stay alive, they bared their souls to each other, bonding over the hardship and strife. They dared to hope and dream about life after Mimics, a simpler life far from the atrocities of war.
It wasn’t easy for Alyana to see her friend suffer, slowly l
osing pieces of herself to some unexplained, predatory alien technology. During the Battle of Final Hope, right before the Blessing of the Guardians event, Meomi disappeared without a trace, leaving no opportunity to say goodbye. Alyana lost many friends that day, including Nume, Lael, and Quip. In the end, they were all heroes who helped save humanity.
To this day, Jonas had yet to clarify the details of what happened on Raven’s ship. Alyana continued holding onto hope Meomi would somehow find a way back to her. If nothing else since the war with Mimics started, she learned stranger things could and would happen.
A door slid open behind Alyana.
“Sir,” said a ginger, pimply faced, male Fleet officer. He stood to her right and saluted.
“At ease.” She nodded at him. “What is it, Ensign Sanghvi?”
“There has been a slight delay in the transport of the Chordan prisoner.”
“Is something wrong?” Alyana narrowed her eyes.
“No, no!” His voice cracked. “Sir. The prisoner should be here within the hour. Interrogation room one is ready for you. We’ve made the modifications you requested.”
“I understand, thank you.”
“And Sir?”
“Yes?”
“You also asked about the marine that found the subterranean base…” Sanghvi checked his datapad. “A private named, Dren Arvol. Phoenix Company. Commanding officer is a Whisper named Kara.”
“Yes, that one.” Her nose wrinkled. “Where is he now?”
He tapped at his datapad. “At the Watson and Crick reshelling facility. I have coordinated with the section manager for you to talk to Private Arvol. A Corpsman named, Walder. He’s the technician in charge of reshelling all of Phoenix Company, and he’ll be meeting you there.”
