by C. S. Harte
Alyana leaned against him and whispered into his ear, “It’s alright… We have to remove your right eye. Anjali said he has full confidence in himself.”
“Indeed,” Anjali’s voice perked up. “Human anatomy is not very complex compared to Chordan anatomy. I hope you let me keep your eye afterward.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Alyana said. “What use does he have for it once it’s out?”
Dren felt a heat bearing down on him. The sound of a drill followed. “No… Don’t…” His mind was shutting down. Don’t remove my eye…
26
The wurm behind Dren’s ebony eyepatch wriggled. He resisted the urge to touch it as he stared at himself in the mirror. Anjali said it would take a couple days for the puleaina to grow into a replacement organ of its host. He felt it pressing against his eyelids, a pressure that was uncomfortable but not painful. Chordan technology continued to be full of surprises for Dren, incorporating scientific innovations beyond Fleet’s sharpest minds with the wonder of strange animals having even stranger abilities.
“You’re finally awake,” Alyana joined him in the corner of Anjali’s laboratory.
“I can’t believe you took out my eye.” He frowned.
“Technically, we removed the ocular implant, your eye was in the way.” She smirked. “Anjali said it was transmitting a low frequency, sub-space homing signal. Once we return to our universe, Fleet would know exactly where you are, where we’ll be. I’m not an egghead, but I think the implant also allows them to remotely terminate you.” She motioned to touch his face but stopped herself. “How does it feel?”
“The eye or the wurm inside my eye socket?”
“Both,” she shrugged. “I guess.”
He rubbed his patch, not able to resist any longer. Something hard pushed back against his fingers. “You don’t want to know. At least it doesn’t hurt.” Dren sat. “Where are our alien friends?”
“I haven’t seen Samara since she left us to talk with the Archon. Anjali…” Her eyes darted to the door. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to make a clone of you from your eye tissue.” Alyana slid over to the lone window in the room. There was no glass for her to press her hand against as she stared outside. She gripped the side wall; falling out meant plummeting over 500 meters. Below, in the sea surrounding the city, minuscule sailing ships drifted under a cloudless sky.
“What does she hope will happen?” Dren joined her next to the window.
“Samara has a plan.” Alyana shrugged. “You know she does.”
“It would be nice if she shared it with us,” he said turning to face her. The red-headed teenager stared back. Dren rubbed his one good eye and shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” She bit her lip. “Is it your eye? Should I find Anjali?”
“No, no.” He waved her off. “I…” Dren wasn’t ready to talk to Alyana about his delusions, especially the one involving her. “You know our Chordan friends intend to kill the Fleet Marshal, right?”
“I know,” she mumbled.
“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he?”
“My friend died some time ago. Jonas has been something else since then…” Her voice trailed as she dropped her chin to her chest. Alyana moved away from the window and sat in the chair Dren vacated.
As she walked, her figure transformed in Dren’s mind. Her fiery red hair receded, disappearing into a mohawk.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” asked the younger version of Alyana, her voice sounding child-like and playful.
“What?” Dren scoffed. “I wasn’t… Just trying to get used to seeing with one eye.”
The conversation lulled. Both participants seemed content with letting a wall of silence build.
Quiet times usually brought out the ghosts in Dren’s mind. He wondered if his mind was fraying faster than he realized. He hoped Samara would return soon and mend his unraveling mental state.
Alyana stood from her seat. She paced in a circle with her arms crossed. Her mouth opened and closed, unsure how to start her thought. “It’s strange we’re here now…” Her tongue clicked. “… Together.”
“On this alien planet in an alien universe?” Dren tilted his head.
“No…” She sighed. “Well, that is strange, but not what I’m talking about. So many times I’ve thought about killing you…”
Dren stared at her with a dazed look. Her words dispelled the illusion of the mohawk’d teenager. Questions flooded his mind — all variations of when, how, and why. His lips parted, ready to launch hundreds of answer-seeking projectiles.
She cut him off before he could fire them. “I suppose I should apologize for that. But in thinking about it, I would do it again. Somehow you’re here. You’re like Murrmor mold spores, impossible to kill.”
Confusion grid locked Dren’s thoughts. His face froze in a permanent state of shock. He had only been alive for one-sol year, and before Samara entered their lives, Dren had never crossed paths with Alyana. At least not as far as he could recall. What little he knew of her, she didn’t seem the type to kill so casually. Even comprehending the evil that inhabited Jonas Barick’s body, she preferred to capture and save him. Dren directed his analysis inward. Someone just said they tried to kill him, but there was no internal rage he was accustomed to feeling. One word repeated in his mind, “Why?”
Alyana continued her circuitous roaming while she spoke, keeping her gaze unfocused as if she was talking to herself more than Dren. “I hated that we kept producing more clones from your line. You had friends I could never identify within the Admiralty. Wouldn’t be the first time a secret group existed within Fleet’s infinite shadows. It doesn’t change the cruel methods you used. Well, not you, but the other you…” She stopped her pacing to pick up a serrated dagger from Anjali’s antique pile. “I could never forgive the torture of my friends…”
Dren took a step back when she handled the weapon, fighting the urge to engage her.
She faced him. Her knuckles turned white from squeezing the handle. Alyana moved inside Dren’s personal space. “You look just like him, you know. Except for the eyes, those are different. And not because of your surgery. I don’t blame you personally. It explains how you knew so much about the Valor. Samara kept saying you were ‘of two minds’ and I knew you were different people but…”
“Captain Harrows?” Dren could easily disarm her. He could easily kill her, but explanations were more valuable. It seemed like she was talking at him instead of to him. Dren held out his palms in front of his chest while taking another step back. “Are you talking to me or someone else?”
“I thought you might have figured it out on your own. Samara told me you started to remember.”
“Remember what?” Dren furrowed his brow. “I have no idea what you’ve been talking about.”
“The ghosts you think you see, they’re memories of your past hosts.”
Like a switch had been turned on inside Dren’s head, everything made sense. He wasn’t seeing ghosts. He wasn’t going crazy. He was reliving memories. It was just his mind’s way of dealing with the extra consciousness stored within him. Dren now realized she hadn’t been talking to him, but to the previous person who lived in his shell. The question changed from what to who. “Who had this shell before me?”
“Your clone line descended from the Nemean Men Project. Have you heard of them?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“That’s understandable. I tried so hard to bury your line. Somehow, you kept resurfacing… The Nemean Men were one of the prototype clone lines. They were bred specifically to be soldiers without empathy so they could be more ruthless, efficient killers. Few were made. Of the handful, there was a clone who went by the name Lord Raven. Does that name ring a bell?”
“No,” Dren shook his head again.
“I wonder who named you… Someone cruel with a sick, twisted sense of humor.” Alyana chuckled. “Dren Arvol is an anagram of Lord Raven.”
Dren’s eyes resembled full moons, wide open.
“Lord Raven killed most of my friends — Whisper, Quip, and he was responsible for Meomi and Nume’s deaths too…” She folded her free hand into a fist. “He tortured Jonas to a point where he never fully recovered. Maybe he’s one of the reasons Jonas opened himself to the evils of Atua Leaga. I never hated someone so much in my life. And you are the spitting image of him…” She pressed the blade against his throat. A thin ribbon of scarlet formed on his neck.
“Are you going to kill me, then? Get your revenge on a ghost by killing someone whose only crime is wearing the shell as this evil person you speak of?”
“VOIDS!” Alyana gritted her teeth. “Clones are an abomination of life! You should have never existed!”
The furnace of rage finally ignited for Dren. Humans have never accepted clones as equals and never understood the sheer agony of living only to fight and die in wars that were not their own. He held in his anger. Should Alyana kill him without his tether, he would join the Endless Void.
Alyana removed the blade from Dren’s neck and dropped her hands to her sides. “Samara told me Raven had a hidden ulterior motive. He may have been the first human to stumble upon Atua Leaga. Only he didn’t know it at the time. She said it was possible Atua Leaga took over Raven’s body like it did with Jonas.”
“Why haven’t you told me this earlier?”
“We needed to be sure who was in control, you or him. When Samara returns, she plans to perform a mind walk. Hopefully, that’ll answer the million and one questions I have about you. I’m guessing you have just as many about yourself.”
“Is there any way I can remove this Lord Raven from my head? Will that fix the ghosts I keep seeing?”
“I don’t know.” Alyana went back to the window. “For your sake, I hope so. War has a habit of making victims out of innocent people.”
An impulse rose in Dren’s consciousness to push her out of the window. He quickly drowned it out. Knowing the source of his delusions somehow made it easier to fortify against them. If what everything Alyana said was true, then he was never crazy — just incredibly unfortunate that his spark of life became caught in a complicated web of deception. Removing this Lord Raven person meant he had a chance at a normal human life. Hope flickered in his heart.
Samara returned with Anjali in tow, both carrying with them sour faces.
“What’s wrong?” Alyana spun around. “Is the Archon going to help us?”
27
“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Dren raised his voice. “What happened at the meeting with your Archon?”
Anjali’s stare traced the stream of blood dripping from Dren’s neck. “You are hurt, Dren Arvol.” His eyes darted to Alyana who still held the dagger in her hands. “Did we interrupt something?”
“No,” Dren said. “I wanted to see how I fare in combat with one eye.”
“Ah, I see.” Anjali removed a container from his pouch, opened it, and rubbed a silver salve onto Dren’s neck. His wound fizzled for a moment before closing.
“As with previous conflicts, our Archon has decided it better to remain neutral in the conflict against Atua Leaga,” Samara said.
“Neutral?” Alyana blinked her eyes rapidly. “We came all the way here, wherever here is, just so your Archon could tell us he won’t help?”
“I had a feeling this would happen,” Dren said.
“How did you know?” Anjali asked.
“Walking through the city, I saw happy, carefree citizens. Why jeopardize all of that? Why fight a war if you don’t have to when you can let other people fight for you? Life is good here, your Archon would be insane to upset that. But you have a backup plan, right? Tell me you have a backup plan…”
“We have suffered a setback, I admit,” Samara said. “But there are others who believe as I do. We can turn to them for help.”
“Who?” Alyana asked, throwing her hands up. “Who is as crazy as we are to go against something as powerful as Atua Leaga?”
Samara looked away. “I have no answers yet.”
“Let me get this straight.” Dren let out an exasperated breath. His posture stiffened. “You’re telling me we came all the way here, to your universe, to help kill some powerful, possibly unkillable being, and you’re telling me you don’t have a backup plan?”
“Speak carefully your next words, Dren Arvol.” Anjali’s eyes protruded.
“I don’t understand,” Alyana said. “If Atua Leaga is as big a threat as you say, then why won’t your Archon help?”
“You lied to us!” Dren said in a voice just below yelling, not allowing Samara to answer. He tightened his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
Anjali’s face deepened into shades of purple as his cheeks puffed. “You may not talk to Mistress in that fashion…” He stood between Dren and Samara.
“It is fine, Anjali.” Samara held out her arm, nudging him to the side. “They deserve the complete truth.”
“Given that both Alyana and I have sacrificed our lives to be here, I would agree.”
“Mistress has sacrificed more than you would comprehend, Dren Arvol!”
“Enough!” Samara’s scream had a weight behind it, knocking everyone off balance.
Dren fought to steady himself as his ears rang and his legs wobbled.
“Time is not our ally,” Samara said in a low voice. “The Archon knows of your presence in Rheno Rhenasa. We must find a new haven for you.”
“What are they going to do if they find us?” Alyana asked.
“The Archon will most likely…” Anjali glanced at Samara as if asking for permission to speak on her behalf. She nodded. “… You will be imprisoned, indefinitely. As we said earlier, non-Chordans are not allowed in this city.”
“This just keeps getting better.” Dren scoffed. “Not only are we on the run from our own people, but now we also have to hide from yours.”
“I promised your safety and that of Alyana Harrows.” Samara held her chin up. “That has not changed. My beliefs on Atua Leaga has not changed. Chordans and humans will never be safe until their threat is dealt with. If need be, I will continue this crusade myself.”
“You will not be alone, Mistress.” Anjali linked his fingers together and held them in the center of his chest while bowing forward. “Not while I breathe.”
She nodded at her loyal follower. “I only need the location of the Aorgarian ship from your mind, Dren Arvol. After that, I will escort you to a destination of your choice. Is that agreeable to everyone?”
“The voices in my head,” Dren said as he recalled Alyana’s revelations about his past. “I need you to take them away — I need you to remove the ghosts.”
Samara nodded. “I will.” She turned to Alyana. “And you?”
“I want to stop the evil inside Jonas,” she said. “If possible, I want to save him. I don’t care about anything else.” She turned to Dren. “That’s one way you are like Raven. You care about yourself first before anyone else.”
Dren ignored Alyana’s words, harsh as they seemed. Throughout his short existence, he had been fighting someone else’s battles. As soon as Raven’s consciousness is removed from his, he would be free for the first time in his life. His mind would finally be his own. He had wondered if that day would ever come.
Samara guided Dren to a chair and gestured for him to sit. “Alyana Harrows has mentioned the concept of a mind walk to you.”
“Yes, but she didn’t really explain what it was.”
“A mind walk is a mental reconstruction of your memories. It will allow everyone in this room, the ability to interact with your past as if we were there with you. In your case, the memories we seek are not yours, but of the other person occupying your subconscious, this Lord Raven human.”
“He’s not human,” Alyana muttered.
“Why couldn’t we have done this before?” Dren asked, ignoring Alyana. “Before we came to this universe?”
“The memories I seek are hidden far below your consciousness. The only way to access them is to escort you to them as I am about to do. But I am vulnerable during such a procedure, and this is the first moment since we assembled where danger does not lurk nearby.”
Dren furrowed his brow. “Will this also help me get rid of him? Remove this extra person from my head once and for all?”
“I expect it to aid in that process.” She nodded.
“OK, go ahead.” Dren released a deep breath.
“You will enter a dream state,” Samara said. “The experience will be like a lucid dream. You will not be harmed. Nothing you see will be live. Are you ready to begin?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
Samara placed both her hands on Dren’s cheeks. “You’ve been on the Aorgarian ship before. Focus on the details that identify its locations.”
With each blink of the eye, parts of Anjali’s laboratory melted away. The colors of the room mixed and swirled, like an oil painting left out in the rain. He followed the growing puddle of liquid until it disappeared into a previously unseen drain, taking with it, all the colors of the world. Darkness reigned. He tried to speak to Samara. The words echoed back into his mouth and clogged in his throat.
“Breathe,” Samara’s disembodied voice came from above.
Dren forced himself to relax. He fought to control his breathing. With each exhale, he noticed a white powder leaving his lungs. The dust stuck to the boundaries of night, slowly transforming a universe of darkness into one of light. After what felt like a lifetime, the scene completed. Dren found himself in the bleach white hangar of the unidentified alien ship with Phoenix Company standing frozen like toy soldiers in a straight line formation.
