Voices of the Lost

by C. S. Harte

  Acrid smoke filled the bridge.

  Dren put on his Tempest suit helmet. The whirl of his rebreather kicked in. “We don’t have much time left, we need to get to the escape pods.” He handed Samara her Obscura visor.

  “Agreed,” Samara said. “What about Alyana Harrows?”

  Dren kneeled next to the unconscious Captain, stepping inside her pool of blood. Using his ocular implant, he zoomed in on her neck. A blue wireframe overlay appeared over her body as he analyzed her health. Text appeared on his HUD:

  Subject Status: Critical.

  Death: Imminent.

  “I’m not sure she’ll make it.” An ache formed in Dren’s chest as he stared at her. Alyana’s face changed to that of a fiery-haired teenage girl. Seeing the stilled, lifeless expression of the younger woman deepened the intensity of his pain, like the twisting of a knife already inside a wound. Being a combat veteran, he had seen all too often the signs of death’s tendrils hooking into its victims. He recognized it in the young girl. He wasn’t sure who this girl was or why he saw her. But he had little time to ask questions with the Valor moments away from exploding. “We will have to leave her. I’m sorry.”

  “I made a covenant, Dren Arvol,” Samara sneered. “I will protect you both as long as I am alive.”

  “Her injuries are too severe. She’ll only slow us down.” The pang in his chest flared as he said those words. He had lost many brothers during the war against the Defiled, but clones could resurrect. Alyana could not.

  The possibility of death was one of the fundamental differences between humans and clones; a reason so many humans hated clones, treating them as inferior. But a clone’s immortality was their greatest strength, the argument humans brought them to life in the first place and their greatest advantage in a potentially prolonged war. Humans… Kill them once, they’re dead for good. Clones, we live forever. It should be us in charge of things…

  Samara lifted her chin and peered into his eyes.

  Dren gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the sensation of a thousand needles raining inside his skull. “Stop! Stop!” He dropped to one knee. “Fine! I’ll carry her.” Carefully, he lifted Alyana and draped her over his shoulder. As far as humans go, Alyana was one of the good ones. He didn’t want her to die, but her injuries were critical.

  Samara nodded.

  Dren activated his strength neuromod to offset her weight. “We have to make it to the hangar and escape in the shuttle.”

  “Proceed.”

  Smoke billowed onto the bridge as the decktram doors opened.

  “This way!” He shouted over the roar of the flames and explosions, leading Samara down a burning corridor. Ceiling panels collapsed as they ran, dripping molten metal as they passed. Dren cradled Alyana in his chest, protecting her as best he could from the blazing assault. He felt the heat through his suit. If Alyana wasn’t dead already, he wasn’t sure how she could survive in the extreme environment until they reached the shuttle. She’s tougher than she looks, I’ll give her that.

  It took Dren and Samara 10 minutes to navigate the burning ship before making it to the hangar.

  Dren boarded first and lowered Alyana gently to the floor. He sealed the shuttle entrance as soon as Samara entered. “She needs medical attention.” He handed her a medi-kit. “Keep her alive while I pilot the shuttle. I hope your species has special healing abilities because, judging by the blood coming out of her ears, she has a brain hemorrhage. Even if she survives, she might not be functional…”

  “Go, Dren Arvol. Get us out of here.”

  He jumped into the pilot seat and started the launch sequence. “We’re about one million kilometers out from Earth. I don’t know how we can make it without the Streydr seeing us…” The navigational console lit up, exposing all the shuttle’s features. He chuckled. Of course, this shuttle has cloaking too. Cloaking would’ve been useful at Gedia Prime… Hopefully, by the time they see us, it’ll be too late to stop us.

  Once the shuttle cleared the hangar, Dren disabled the ion engines and used the momentum of the Valor to provide the push needed to reach Earth. He hoped the combination of cloaking, lack of engine signature, and the fumes from the Valor’s exhaust was enough to hide the shuttle until it reached their destination.

  “You are clever, Dren Arvol,” Samara said. “For many eras, Chordas considered the human intelligence level to be the same as feleis, which we keep as pets. You have thus far surpassed that.”

  Dren ignored her remarks. His focus was split between the steering of the shuttle using hard-to-maneuver thrusters and the passive scanners trying to find the elusive Streydr fighters.

  “They will not follow us to Earth once we break the atmosphere.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Earth has already been claimed by House Kiota and House Tiga. They would not dare risk another war so soon after concluding the War of Thorns.”

  Dren wasn’t going to pretend to know what any of that meant. Passive scanners picked up incoming enemies. “Six Chorda Seekers are heading toward us. Are they on our side?” He zoomed in on the vessels and enhanced the ships to show their colors, royal blue with streaks of scarlet.

  Samara shook her head. “They are not. We would do well to avoid them. They are there to ensure the Streydr do not advance further.”

  The shuttle glided into Earth’s atmosphere over Eurasia, flying past the capital of the Eurasian League, Berlin.

  Dren stayed far away from the enemy Seekers who seemed unaware that a Fleet shuttle was sailing past them. What he could not hide was a trail of heat as the shuttle glided through the atmosphere. Two of the fighters broke formation and started a pursuit course.

  “Do these children vessels have any offensive capabilities?” Samara asked.

  “You mean this shuttle — not much,” Dren answered. “Couldn’t you tell them who you are and how important you are? See if that works again?”

  “House Taumate and House Kiota are sworn enemies.” Samara scoffed. “I will not devalue myself by speaking to them. Should these pilots expire me and return my head to their Archon, he will reward them and their families with a highly coveted station.”

  This is all so tiring. Dren thought his life was horrible before, fighting someone else’s battle, dying over and over, just to repeat the process of fighting someone else’s wars when he resurrected. Am I ever going to escape the life I was born into? Here he was again, in the middle of another war between two sides he had no stakes in.

  “They’re charging weapons!” Dren shouted.

  “I suggest evasive maneuvers if you believe your defenses to be inadequate,” Samara said.

  Dren switched on the shuttle’s engines and disabled the cloak, transferring all available power to the rear shields.

  The two Seekers fired massive laser bursts which hit the rear shield simultaneously.

  The shuttle rattled as the weapons’ fire collided with the shields, but it withstood the volley.

  Rear shield strength dropped to 8%.

  “We won’t survive another hit!” Dren yelled. “And we’re not going to outmaneuver them. They’re much more agile than we are.”

  “Should we make it to the jungles surrounding the Anchor, we can find allies who will shelter us.”

  “Why can’t you contact them now to help us?”

  Samara rubbed her chin before replying. “Open a hail on the following frequency.” She typed into her forearm terminal.

  “Can’t, something is jamming our communications. I’m guessing it’s the guys chasing us.”

  “Then I believe our best chance of survival is you, Dren Arvol. I am confident I have chosen a capable pilot.”

  I’m the only other person with her. Who else would she have chosen? He sighed. “Strap yourself in tight. And strap Alyana too.”

  Just as the Seekers opened fire again, Dren vented exhaust fumes and simulated a nosedive making it appear they had been hit. He plunged the craft straight int
o the Atlantic ocean. The fighters seemed to have fallen for the ruse and broke off their pursuit. Dren continued the rest of the trip to Southern Mexico underwater, at 12,000 meters below sea level.

  “Twice now, you have shown your resourcefulness, Dren Arvol. I am pleased to see human intelligence evolved since we last visited.”

  “I’m glad I’m smarter than your average Chordan pet.” He grinned. What did she mean, last visited? When did Chordans last visit? Dren saved those questions for another time.

  Once they reached the Bay of Campeche, on the eastern side of Mexico, Dren halted the engines. The shuttle floated upward at a steady rate of ascent. When they finally broke the water’s surface, he re-cloaked the vessel and allowed the waves to push the craft toward the shores.

  “We made it!” Dren opened the rear hatch and exited first. Earth’s sun greeted him with full intensity as he looked up into the sky; the warmth of its rays sent shivers down his spine. This was the first time he had stepped foot on Earth, the human home planet — his home planet — and the first time he saw the sun the way ancient humans saw it. Dren was the first among the new batch of cloned marines to experience such a moment. It saddened him that his brothers could not say the same.

  “Not quite,” Samara said, pushing Dren to the side. “If your rudimentary information system is correct, we are several hundred human distance units away from the Anchor.”

  “It’s best we walk from here. Our cloaking technology doesn’t work against Chordan sensors. I can make short flights with the rockets in my Tempest suit, and we can reach our destination in a day or two. You mentioned before you had allies here?”

  “They will find us soon enough,” Samara said.

  Dren knew he had to check on Alyana. He dreaded doing so, expecting her to have passed. He gasped when he realized she was still alive, barely breathing. He quickly applied med-gels, dealing with her more superficial wounds. But nothing in the med-kit could help with her brain hemorrhages.

  He checked his Tempest suit computers. They were 232 klicks away from the Anchor which according to Samara was inside an ancient structure in the jungles south of Mexico City. 232 klicks is a long way to carry an extra person… And a long time to wait for help.

  “We are taking Alyana Harrows with us, Dren Arvol.”

  “I was planning to.” He briefly clenched his hands. “You should measure humans by our actions, not our thoughts.”

  Dren took his helmet off, wanting to breathe in the air of his home planet. A mild breeze caressed his face. He had been to many worlds, traveled on many ships, and lived on many stations. Never once had the feeling of being at home. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but this was the first time he genuinely felt he was human. Then, his body tensed as he remembered Earth no longer belonged to humans; that opportunistic alien invaders had stolen it from them. If I help Samara, will Chordans leave Earth?

  “That is a question for another day, Dren Arvol. For Alyana Harrow’s sake, we must hasten our departure. I am confident my people can aid her recovery.”

  Dren nodded and returned his helmet to his head.

  Ten klicks into their eastward march and they’ve yet to come across a single soul. Samara said she had friends here. They’ve yet to show their faces.

  “They will show when they are needed,” Samara said, replying to Dren’s thoughts again.

  Alyana released a soft moan. Her skin was two shades lighter than her usual pale self.

  Dren lowered her from his shoulder. He poured water from his canteen and massaged her throat, helping her swallow. “I don’t know how much time she has left…” She moved her mouth like she was trying to talk. Dren leaned into her; when he did, her face changed to that of the red-headed teenager. Since the escape from Salvation Station, all the other ghosts had abandoned Dren, all but one — this young woman. Who are you?

  A deafening roar pierced the silence of the jungle.

  Dren noticed a new red dot on his mini-map, moving fast and heading their way. He looked up in the direction of the red dot to see a monstrous serpent-like creature with bright emerald and sapphire color plumes. It looked and moved like a snake when its massive wings were folded into its sides. Dren blinked his eyes rapidly. Am I really seeing this? Is that a dragon… with feathers?

  His zoomed in on the creature with his visor camera. Numbers displayed next to the beast as his onboard suit computer began its analysis.

  98 meters long, 14-meters wide.

  Wingspan of 170-meters.

  The sky seemed to shimmer as the sunlight reflected off its body, tinting the jungle with the colors of its feathers as it flew.

  Dren tossed Alyana over his shoulder and backed away from the creature. “We need to run!”

  21

  The dragon-like creature circled over Dren and his team; its eyes locked onto them like they were prey.

  “What are we waiting for?” he shouted. “We need to leave now!”

  Samara brushed Dren’s arm. “Wait.”

  In an instant, his body relaxed as dread dissipated from his mind; the flying monster no longer elicited a sense of panic. Its feathers somehow changed color, shifting from cool shades of blue and green to warm hues of red and orange. The world seemed brighter for it. Gone was the feeling of fear, replaced with calmness and ease — a certainty that the once-menacing creature was there to help, not hurt them. “What did you do to me?” The words came out as a whisper too soft for Samara to hear.

  The winged-serpent landed 20-meters from them, in a small clearing through the twisted, vine-wrapped jungle branches.

  Samara rushed to the beast with a broad smile on her face and legs hopping in delight.

  Dren stayed rooted in place with Alyana slung over his shoulder. The feeling of security in his mind clashed with his survival instincts in his gut.

  A soft purring came from the creature’s mouth as it lowered its head to the ground like it was bowing before a royal presence.

  Samara wrapped her arms around its neck and squeezed. Her eyes pinched shut as she did; her hands disappeared under the layers of feathers that looked as soft as embroidered fabric.

  Dren was not expecting such displays of warmth and affection from the Chorda Voice, someone who previously seemed so cold and calculated.

  The creature nuzzled Samara’s back as she uncoiled her arms.

  “Come, Dren Arvol.” She waved for him to join the welcomed reunion. “Bring Alyana Harrows.”

  Dren hesitated. The creature was the size of a whale and somehow able to fly. Experience on other alien worlds taught him to stay far away from monsters with mouths capable of swallowing him whole.

  “Fear not this kuetsal. Thrib is an honored member of my family. He has been my loyal pet for several lines.”

  If a 170-meter wide flying creature capable of blocking out the sun were a pet, he never wanted to meet the true monsters in the Chordan world.

  Samara gestured for Dren again.

  He took small, measured steps at first; his legs shook with each stride forward. When Dren approached within 10-meters of the kuetsal, it snapped its head up and partially bared its teeth. Dren halted mid-step, unsure if it was safe to land his foot dangling in the air. A waved of anxiety crashed in his mind. He couldn’t help but visualize images of being eaten alive, chewed apart by the monster’s serrated teeth.

  “Thrib, no!” Samara shouted. Her hands rubbed against the kuetsal’s chest in a smooth, circular motion.

  The images of a torturous death vanished from Dren’s thoughts. He continued to Samara with Alyana still cradled in his arms. “Was he going to actually eat Alyana and me?”

  “Thrib is a kuetsal.” She rubbed the underside of its neck. “One of several telepathic animals we have in our home world. As a means of defense, it will project violent images into your mind. Quite an effective method to deter threats.”

  “Your species has a different idea of what a pet should be.” He shook his head. “We prefer our pets to be smaller th
an us.”

  “That is because humans fear things based on appearance alone. Chordan children are taught: no matter how high you climb, there is always a larger, more dangerous predator.”

  “How did Thrib get here?”

  “There is only one pathway between our universes, through the Anchors. There will be time for more questions later. For now, we must mend Alyana Harrows.” She gestured for Dren to lower her onto the ground. “I need you to remove her primitive armor and place her in Thrib’s mouth.”

  “What?” Dren jerked his head back. “You want me to remove her Obscura suit and place her body into the mouth of your pet monster?”

  “Do humans often repeat instructions given to them?” Samara wrinkled her nose.

  “Only when they seem outrageous.” Dren sighed.

  “You must not delay.” She kneeled down next to Alyana and rested her hand on her visor. “Her mind is weakening. Was it not you who told me human bodies were fragile and needed constant medical attention?”

  “I don’t recall using those words exactly.” He scoffed.

  “All kuetsal have powerful regenerative compounds in their saliva. For this reason, nobles ride them into battle.”

  Dren shook his head while removing Alyana’s Obscura suit. I can’t believe I’m about to put Alyana inside the creature’s mouth… While her suit could heal her cuts and bruises, Alyana lost a lot of blood in addition to suffering head trauma. What she needed was a medi-station. What choice do I have? She’ll die anyway if I do nothing. In some ways, the human body was fragile; a substantial enough bump in the wrong place did this to Alyana. But the human will to survive was stronger.

  Thrib opened his mouth full; his tongue extended past his teeth and curled upward to form a makeshift bedding.

  Dren laid his captain gently into Thrib’s mouth. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said to her as his hands lingered on her shoulder. “Now what?”