Voices of the Lost

by C. S. Harte

  Alyana stepped into his personal space. She tilted her head up and looked into his eyes.

  “You and I are more alike than you realize.”

  “I find that hard to believe, Captain.” Dren scoffed.

  “I know I give off the impression that I’m a genius and that I know exactly what to do in every situation.”

  “That’s…” He raised his eyebrow. “Not something I…”

  “I grew up as alone in this universe as you did.” She sighed. “I grew up without family and friends. I was an orphan on an Alliance orphanage ship. Except the orphanage part of the ship was a lie. It was a front for human trafficking. They forced me to help abduct kids, smuggle them past Fleet patrols and hand them to the highest bidder for sexual slavery and probably worse things. How did you think I became such a good pilot? And in the evenings after a hard day of selling stolen children…” She averted her gaze. “Those kids weren’t the only ones forced into doing things they didn’t want to do…”

  Alyana was someone completely new to Dren’s life. He couldn’t understand why, but he felt an ache in his throat as she spoke, a lump that sunk as she furthered her story. He couldn’t stop seeing her as the young red-head, even as he consciously tried to visualize Alyana’s true face.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, that’s not why I told you that story.” She clenched her hands. “I may not be a clone, but I was as much a slave like you. We could compare evils, play the ‘who had it worse’ game, but there’s no point in that. My childhood and young adult life sucked. Then the Mimics came. Like you, someone showed me the truth about the corruption of those who are supposed to protect us. And you know what I saw then?”

  Dren shook his head.

  “A path to redemption. Every day, we are presented with the opportunity to do evil by ignoring the plight of others. ‘Not my problem,’ I used to say. ‘At least I wasn’t them.’ In life, you only have a few chances to do something good — only a handful of character-defining moments. When my friend Nume came to me and said I could help her, I fought with her against the Mimics and their allies. And in the end, we won.”

  “Captain, with all due respect, what did we win?” He glanced at Anjali. “We traded one enemy for another. Kill Mimics. Kill Voidi. Then move onto Atua Leaga? When does it end? War never ever ends. Maybe the solution is to stop fighting altogether…”

  Alyana chuckled. “Didn’t expect to have this kind of conversation with a private today. Also, I didn’t expect to die either. Yet, here we are. Now I know what you clones felt as you died.” She snorted. “You once told me you wanted nothing more than to be human, right?”

  “Yes, I did, Captain.”

  “Well, one important human trait is empathy, the ability to care about someone, something other than our own sorry hide. You’re right, Dren. Fighting for good, for the things you believe in, that never ends. Yes, the Defiled replaced Mimics, but I don’t regret my decision to fight. I lost all my friends in the process. If there was a way to ask them whether they would make the same decision, I’m positive they would agree — they would make the same decision. They might try a little harder not to die, but you get my point…” She laughed to herself. “What’s the alternative? Letting darkness rule our lives? Constantly run from fear?”

  “I don’t know, Captain.” Dren exhaled a long breath. “It’s been a long day, and I haven’t had time to process everything.”

  “Do you think I know what I’m doing?” Alyana turned away from him. “There’s no sign-up sheet to be a hero; to be a good guy. You do it because if you don’t, everything just gets worse. Trust me.”

  “Help us achieve our goals,” Samara said, stepping beside Alyana. “We will help you with yours.”

  Dren crossed his arms and turned his back to everyone. The act of fighting and killing didn’t bother him; he was used to that. If I set off on my own, where would I go? Just surviving didn’t seem like much of a life as Alyana said. As he turned around to speak, a loud screeching sound came from outside.

  “Thrib!” Samara shouted. “He is under attack!”

  “We’ve been found!” Anjali yelled.

  23

  Dren picked up his helmet and latched it onto his Tempest suit. While waiting for the HUD to re-initialize, he unhooked his rifle from his back holster and unlocked the safety. “I don’t see any hostiles.”

  “Your undeveloped sensors cannot penetrate our barrier.” Anjali summoned a floating viewscreen which appeared as a hovering video in the middle of the facility. It showed Thrib clawing at a Voidi warrior with his massive talons tearing through flesh, armor and all. Dozens more dropped from a ship in the sky. “There are too many of them!”

  “Thrib, run…” Samara whispered at the screen. “Fly away…”

  “Why can’t I see any life signs beyond the people in this room?” Dren asked.

  “The barrier we use completely masks all biosignatures on either side,” Anjali answered.

  Voidi warriors used electrically charged whips against the kuetsal to lasso its limbs, subduing the best, preventing Thrib from fighting back.

  “If that’s your friend, aren’t you going to help?” Alyana asked.

  “I see other Chordas with these Voidis,” Dren said. “I take it they aren’t on our side.”

  “No,” Anjali spat on the ground. “They are gatas, traitors to our race, beholden to non-Chordan masters.”

  “They are worse than the slime on a Saiki faloa,” Samara said. “They dishonor the great Archons of their House’s past.”

  Thrib’s screeching echoed through the room, growing more desperate sounding with each slash he took to his body.

  “They’re toying with him.” Dren gritted his teeth. Seeing the gentle creature being tortured did not sit well with him. His connection to Thrib was brief, but he seemed like an intelligent creature and helped preserve Alyana for Anjali to save her. “Are we going to do something or just stand here and watch him die?” Dren turned to Samara. “You said he was your family pet for several generations?”

  “He is not as weak as you think,” Samara said.

  With a powerful kick, Thrib shoved back the warriors holding down its legs. The lines around his torso slackened, allowing enough room to jump into the air with one big flap of its wings.

  “Yes!” Alyana cheered.

  “Good, Thrib,” Samara nodded.

  “No!” Anjali cried. “A net cannon!” He pointed to a Voidi wielding a weapon on its shoulder.

  As he said the words, the Voidi fired a net into the air. The weaving of the mesh looked thin like spider silk, barely perceptible if not for the glint against the sunlight.

  Before Thrib could break the tree line, he found himself tangled within the net. He screeched an ear-piercing wail as the web around his body electrified. Thrib lifelessly fell back to the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air as he landed. A muffled whimper escaped his mouth.

  Samara raised her hand only to quickly drop it. She mouthed something soft and unintelligible.

  Thrib closed his eyes. His body relaxed completely as if falling into a deep sleep.

  “Goodbye old friend,” Samara whispered at the screen. “You will be missed… always.”

  “Is that it?” Alyana asked. “We’re going to let him get captured?”

  “No, Alyana Harrows,” Anjali said. “Thrib will not be captured. Mistress has placed him in the eternal sleep.”

  Alyana threw her hands up. “Are you saying you just killed…”

  “We must go,” Samara interrupted her. “The barrier is not a guarantee of protection from the impending conflict.”

  “Yes, yes,” Anjali agreed. “We recently built a tunnel from this station to the Anchor; thus it is unlikely our enemies know of its existence.” He shoved aside a console station and removed a silver pyramid-shaped object the size of a human fist from his pouch. “Pailate.” He presented the device in his hand before tossing it to the floor. The pailate floated in mid-air and emitte
d beams of blue light. Wherever the rays touched, the ground dematerialized as if it was teleported away.

  “Well…” Alyana gasped, “We could’ve used you on Nergal Prime.”

  “Nergal Prime?” Dren asked.

  “Nevermind… long story where I almost died.”

  For someone who spends most of her time piloting or behind a desk, she gets into many life-threatening situations. Dren peered into the newly created shaft. “I’ll go first.”

  “You must wait, Dren Arvol.” Anjali held him back. He dropped the pailate into the hole. Before it hit the ground, the Chordan gadget hovered in place and illuminated the entire tunnel. “After you.” He gestured to Dren.

  The drop was 18-meters in height, which Tempest suit suspensions could easily handle. Dren caught Alyana in his arms as she jumped next.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Once inside, Anjali held out his palm and wiggled his fingers. The pailate wobbled in the air and then soared back up to hole. Red beams of light radiated from the object, filling back the missing pieces of the floor. He winked at Alyana. “My invention. I am impressive, am I not?”

  “I’m not a good person to ask.” She grinned at him. “I’m easily impressed.”

  The pailate returned to Anjali when it finished sealing the hole.

  “They will not be able to find the entrance to follow us,” Anjali said. “It will guide us through the tunnel network and warn us of upcoming danger.”

  “How big is the tunnel?” Dren asked.

  “It runs underneath the entire continent,” Anjali said.

  Alyana whistled.

  “We must move with urgency,” Samara said. “They know our location. Our only advantage is lost. I am hopeful our allies still hold the Anchor.”

  They walked in silence for a while before Alyana opened her mouth. “I’ve been curious to know why there is so much in-fighting among the Chordan people.”

  “You’re supposed to be a more advanced civilization than humans,” Dren added. “But all you talk about is war. Isn’t peace a hallmark of utopian societies?”

  “I have been wondering that also, Dren Arvol,” Samara said. “Lately, even more so. We Chordas have been fighting among ourselves for so long, I do not know if we can stop.”

  “There must be a reason you fight?” Alyana asked. “Who and what are you fighting for?”

  “I suppose one of the limited commonalities we have with humans is the constant need for power in all forms. Planets, resources, influence, knowledge, technology, station, politics. Sadly, sometimes, for exceedingly petty reasons.”

  “Such as?” Alyana raised an eyebrow.

  “With any sufficiently large societies, there is a diversity of opinions on a variety of topics. Sometimes, these topics can be extremely divisive. These disharmonies rarely by themselves lead to war. But like any open wound, they can fester, allowing other seeds of discord to sow until the rift grows beyond the ability for anyone to mend.”

  “What do Chordans argue about that can tear your people apart?” Dren asked.

  “Not all Chordans believe the tales of Atua Leaga,” Anjali answered for Samara. “Some consider them children stories.”

  “Wait!” Dren halted his stride. “You’re telling me all this stuff about ancient evils and Atua Leaga is all bedtime stories? Myths?”

  “I consider them true,” Anjali said, stopping with Dren. “Even if others do not. The Aorgarians made many references to them. The Aorgarians are at least equals to Chorda in terms of scientific achievements. Perhaps, greatly so.”

  “You have seen the missing Aorgarian ship, the Uluai Vaa.” Samara nudged everyone to continue forward. “I can see it clearly in your mind.”

  “What exactly did you see, Dren?” Alyana asked.

  “I told you everything I remembered.” He shrugged.

  “Your mind holds more than you realize,” Samara said. “It is a curiosity I hope to solve when we return to the Chordan home world.”

  Does she mean the ghosts in my head? Other than the red-headed girl, Dren hadn’t seen his usual spirits since the escape from Salvation Station and the arrival on Earth. The girl didn’t feel like a haunting. She did not have a cold, blue tint to her complexion; she only appeared when he looked upon Alyana. Why is she different?

  “Your reshelling technician…” Alyana rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to mention his name. He said there was something wrong with your repository — that it was much bigger than a typical clone of your age.”

  “He told you that?” Dren sighed.

  “This isn’t the first time Samara has implied something was wrong with your memories.” She scrunched her brow. “You never went to a diagnostic facility and ran a psych eval on yourself.”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t you want to know what was wrong with you?”

  “No.” He scoffed.

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” he emphasized both syllables. “I’d be expunged if there was something wrong with me,” Dren gave her a hard stare. “Thrown away like a datapad with a material defect.”

  “That’s right…” She lowered her head. “It is unfair how we treat our clones… Which is why I promised to help you and your brothers after we deal with the bigger threat in Jonas.”

  The pailate halted and spun in mid-air.

  Enemy proximity warnings appeared on Dren’s HUD. “Stop!” He extended both arms.

  “What’s wrong?” Alyana asked.

  “We are near the Anchor,” Anjali said. “200 meters away according to my pailate.”

  “I can hear over 50 distinct thoughts,” Samara said. “Most of which are Voidis. We have no allies here.”

  “Then it means we lost control of the Anchor,” Dren said.

  “Great, our escape path is blocked,” Alyana said. “How can the four of us take on 50?”

  24

  The team advanced to the terminus where the ceiling had collapsed. A wall of compact dirt blocked their progress.

  “Tell me that’s another illusionary entrance,” Dren said as he stuck out his hand to test the cohesion of the wall.

  “It has been some time since we’ve used these tunnels,” Anjali said. “I am surprised we have not encountered more collapses.”

  “What do we do now?” Alyana asked.

  “My pailate can dig us through.” Anjali smiled.

  “Great, one problem solved.” Alyana flashed a grin at him. “What about the small army of enemies above us?”

  “Well... About that…” Dren muttered.

  “What now?” Alyana asked.

  “More hostiles showed up. A lot more, at least 250.”

  “Dren Arvol is correct,” Samara added. “Our challenge increases.”

  In the tunnel, there were only two choices; advance or retreat. Dren glanced at his team. Of the four he was the only experienced soldier. Above them was a company of 250 Voidi warriors; hardened, ruthless killers who seemed to enjoy killing as if it was a sport. Advancing meant entering a grossly outnumbered fight. Retreating wasn’t realistic either, the observation outpost was overrun. The team had nowhere to go. In the past, the strategy would be to charge into the horde of enemies and take out as many as they could before dying. Then they would get reshelled and try again — Fleet’s most oft-used strategy.

  For the first time, Dren came to face his mortality. As a clone, he’s died many times. But he never had to actually confront death. With his tether gone, he better understood what it meant to be human, to only have one life. His pulse raced. With the quiet of the tunnel, he heard his heart thrashing inside his chest. Is this what fear feels like?

  “You OK there, Private?” Alyana asked. “We haven’t been in the tunnel long enough for you to lose that much melanin.”

  Dren recognized Alyana’s voice, but her face was of the red-headed girl. Instead of Alyana’s Obscura suit, she was wearing a white and brown flight suit. “I’m fine, Captain.” He shook his head and glanced at S
amara. “It’s been a while since I slept.”

  “Dren Arvol will be fine,” she said. “He is strong of will.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he nodded at her. “Can you mind control the Voidi to not see us the way you did with the Fleet marines back on Salvation?”

  “I cannot,” Samara said while avoiding his gaze. “The Voidi has resistance to our mind control.”

  “Are they too stupid to be controlled?” Alyana asked.

  “In a way, yes!” Anjali laughed. “It is because of the lomot devices on their heads,”

  “You mean the red glow-in-the-dark skullcaps?” Dren asked. “My squad used to joke those lights were so they could find each other in the dark.”

  “When activated, the lomot disables their higher thinking abilities,” Anjali said. “They revert to their more primal nature, knowing only to hunt and kill.”

  “That would explain some things.” Many times Dren witnessed Voidi warriors running on all fours as they charged into packs of marines. With their size and weight, Voidis could barrel over a dozen soldiers in full Tempest gear. A tightness crept up his chest as he pictured his Phoenix Company squadmates. There was a chance they might never see each other again. He wished they were there with him. At least then, they would have a chance against the waiting Voidi. Dren took inventory of his ammo, explosives, and neuro utilities. Everything was at capacity, including combat stims. “Anyone have a plan to get past the Voidis up there?”

  “This portal device, I’m guessing someone needs to activate it?” Alyana asked. “Is it as simple as pressing a button?”

  “Yes, if you are versed in Aorgarian language,” Anjali said. “One person enters the coordinates which triggers the activation of the Anchor.”

  “How long would that take?” Dren asked.

  “Two minutes in Earth time,” Anjali answered.