by Greg Ramsay
Yanmoushala set James down gently before releasing him from his hypnosis. His shock was palpable. Through his telepathic link with Lia, he essentially downloaded a recap of all she’d been shown. To a point he felt relieved to know the apocalypse wasn’t entirely his fault; he’d only made it easier for the weapon to affect humanity, but it didn’t help. He felt like an ignorant traitor for thinking he could play god, just like the Ramashin, to achieve a better result. By the same token, he found it ironic a species so far ahead of humanity in advancements made the same stupid ignorant choice. At least his intent was good, a sentiment that only hurt him. Rather than end up seconding Lia’s rage at the audacity of the Yanmoushala, he focused on telepathically copying their technological knowledge.
All Giver, Lia thought, spitefully translating Yanmoushala for emphasis. You give suffering to the ignorant for your benefit. Your death is overdue, Lia thought coldly.
All dominants. Impart suffering. Irony, hypocrisy, All Giver replied.
Lia took back her body, prepping her kynari for its most important kill ever.
Humans subjugate. Themselves, “animals”. Now you. Subjugate we, it continued with extremely poor English.
“No, now I end you!” Lia growled menacingly, raising her weapon. With amazing speed, Yanmoushala raised a tendril with a placating look. Shocked, Lia stopped momentarily, despite herself. Yanmoushala seized the opportunity to bellow like she’d never heard before, freezing her body. Enraged at her foolishness more than anything, Lia watched her hand drop the kynari into its waiting tendril. Yanmoushala hit some buttons on its holo-display. An auto-adjusting device with some sort of support cradle rose from the pedestal. It dropped the kynari inside, allowing it to be scanned by some type of multi-spectrum light. Upon reading the results, Yanmoushala almost sighed.
Antiquated, damaged. Science known. Implementation corrupted. It calmly read her mind, watching what she used their energy converters for. Of course. Common, always. Steal, change. Build, destroy with. Find better purpose. Never practical.
Lia seethed. Are you seriously fucking judging me after all your kind has done? she asked rhetorically, buying time for her new alien abilities to break her free. The more she embraced that element, the greater control Yanmoushala had.
You are me, it said awkwardly, trying to explain so she’d calm.
Lia read its mind. She realized all Ramashin were just offshoots of Yanmoushala, so of course having consumed a lesser wouldn’t make her stronger.
Why haven’t you killed me then? Hurry the fuck up, quit playing with me! Lia thought enraged, tired of life as it was.
Instead the device closed, encasing the kynari briefly as something was done to it. A while later it was removed from the machine. Some runes burned on the surface of its perfectly smooth golden midsection between the knurled grips and repaired tips. Yanmoushala gently returned it to her hand, closing her hand around it telepathically. Updated converter. Compatible to Our power. Any known 2. You Immune. Us destructors now. Lia’s anger calmed just slightly.
Yanmoushala fired a freshly replaced weapon pod as it freed her body. The runes faded into the kynari’s body indicating the new code had been triggered. Before she had time to react, her kynari absorbed the power, passing it through to her as naturally as sunlight. Lia formed her katana full force, letting all the powers rage in a mini cyclone around the blade to test its integrity. Everything was beyond perfect. Better still, when she let the kynari join inside her armor, she felt all her strength return. Lia pulled the kynari back out of her body which was still weary. Yanmoushala just watched her silently like a curious child. Lia remained angrily suspicious, despite her slight gratitude. Why disarm yourself like this? What do you want? '
In response, Yanmoushala showed Lia sitting on a throne on a platform identical to its own, in a land with a purple atmosphere – the Ramashin home planet. She sat in commanding intensity surrounded by adoring Ramashin subjects. To be. All Giver. Give my. For they. You... It seemed to peruse her mind for a descriptor. KamaGari... End Ravagok ... shifted? it finally managed to say, showing her consuming it, commanding remaining Ramashin against the remains of the shifted on their planet, and ruling it in its stead.
“KamaGiri... Death Goddess,” Lia muttered to herself shaking her head astonished. Now even the almighty puppet master of the universe had taken Chadwick’s flamboyant idea. “Why should I clean up your mess?” Lia demanded aloud. James looked at her shocked.
“Guilt...” James surmised to himself. Done Wars. Done Weapons. Done Life, it said mournfully.
Lia figured he was right. Yanmoushala had spent countless lifetimes justifying its god complex, desperate to win a war they’d already lost. Now in the end, with it fading away, it was cynical and tired.
Lia huffed offended. “It’s all well and good you arbitrarily wanna retire after all you’ve done... Maybe I should kill you, kill the others, and blow up the whole fucking planet? Why not, it was best for Earth. What do I want with your freaky shithole of a planet?!” Lia ranted, right on the edge of complying with its death wish. She stopped herself only because that would make it happy.
Ravagok Live. No Home. While we. Exist. Take Tamashiri. End war. Live, Anomaly... KamaGiri, It said pleadingly.
“Tamashiri could be exactly what we need,” James argued calmly. “We never gave Earth a chance. Maybe it’ll reform naturally, maybe not, but at least we’ll have a home...” he finished.
“Just as chaotic if not more, waiting for us to finish Ramashin’s war,” Lia remarked cynically.
“Not like we have anything else to do. Besides you’ll get free reign to be the hero via murder again, you soldiers love that bullshit,” he said jokingly.
“Fuck yourself,” Lia said harshly, smiling at his charming smile despite herself. She readied her katana. With one deft swing, the energy she gained from Yanmoushala’s weapons joined with her black sharpening energy, extending the reach of the blade. Lia’s speed was such, Yanmoushala’s massive head was severed before it could agitate her further. “Decision made,” Lia said finally, turning away coldly while her tendrils consumed Yanmoushala, a being more that five times her size. James just watched calmly.
“Economic War, shifted War, Ramashin genocide, and now Ravagok. Now what?” he said, sounding tired with the thought.
“Then you go fuss in the lab while I clean up the Ravagers,” Lia said proudly.
“Ravagers?” James asked.
“Ravagok-shifted. My new name,” Lia said proudly.
“Let’s stick with shifted since all species are apparently affected,” he said.
“Fine, buzzkill. Anyway, Yanmoushala was basically progenitor of every deity humanity ever made, and it named me Goddess... So does that make it official?” Lia asked playfully.
“I suppose so,” James responded analytically. His face contorted into a look of regret for what was coming.
“Suck it, everything! I rule!” Lia exclaimed predictably. James just looked to the floor like he’d inspired another apocalypse. “Oh chill...” I was already your goddess anyway; it shouldn’t go to my head!” Lia said jokingly.
“I sure hope not,” James said before walking away, ignoring his doubtful imaginings.
“I can read your thoughts now, remember?” Lia yelled after him playfully.
“Right...” James muttered, annoyed.
Before he got too far away Lia bellowed with her new All Giver powered voice. Every remaining Ramashin came dutifully, not reacting to her species difference. All in all there were about one hundred left in the whole massive vessel. Her command terminal showed a total of 110 small vessels, most of them damaged. “Not much to work with,” she mumbled to herself before leaving to explore the cryo area Yanmoushala showed her.
Chapter 11 – Heroes, Villains and Monsters
On her way, she investigated automated vegetation growing stations, sleeping quarters with hovering collapsible beds, recreation areas consisting of heavy looking chairs with some t
ype of electrodes poking out, and dimly lit spaces lower down divided by stalls with curious holes in the walls at varying points. James remained behind, content to observe her progress via live camera feeds that covered every inch of the ship. Ramashin certainly have no qualms with being monitored, James thought to himself. Lia finally found the test subject storage area after what felt like hours of walking. A very heavy airlock style bulkhead slowly parted into the gently curving arched walls.
Much of Ramashin architecture seemed to rely on slopes and curves. The room itself was pitch black, heavy with stagnation, like it hadn’t been used in decades. Upon entry, a loud whirring echoed through the space like an alarm. When nothing triggered in response the lights came on abruptly. Pot lights lit up the floor on either side vertically like an airport runway, barely combatting the darkness enveloping the space. Along each side of the aisle-like hall were row upon row of staggered tall purplish pods with thick blue glassy viewports on front of each one, spanning from top to bottom. Slowly Lia lapped up and down the aisle taking in the faces shrouded in dim light and thick glass. She realized the room was essentially a storage facility for time capsules, but instead of knickknacks, each contained a being.
There were probably thousands of pods, all of which were carefully organized, stacked by species like a collection. Lia felt as if she were in a modern court, trying desperately to convince the rows of jurors to forgive her years of killing in the name of freedom. She quickly realized most the beings trapped there were warriors too. Many had weapons she didn’t recognize. Their bodies were so far from human that humanity would’ve killed them out of xenophobia. Taking a quick glance, Lia counted approximately twenty different unique species from all over the cosmos, all bearing labels denoting their bestowed gifts. One alien was like the Ramashin in physical makeup, except it appeared to have whip-like elongated tongues where she surmised ears should be.
After a long walk, even the labels on the pods stopped making sense. Lia felt like she’d walked so far back in time, even the Ramashin language shown on the various plaques was obsolete. She turned around, heading quite literally forward through galactic history. Eventually she finally found ancient Neanderthals in various states of dress. Many of them had amazingly extensive wounds like they’d been savagely murdered for being different. That wouldn’t surprise me... Lia thought to herself. The sign below one emaciated, violently abused looking man read, “Healing Touch v132. Exhausts life energy, rejected by lesser specimens. Walking forward Lia saw visual representations of one historical theme – all who were given abilities were either lauded as saviours or, more commonly, were abused like lepers. Every nationality had their mutated champions, from various women, some with rope marks around their necks, or burn marks, to men wearing the crowns of pharaohs.
The collection ranged vastly including scientists, soldiers, kings, cowboys, samurai, knights, monks, conquerors, warlords, and even children. Ramashin experimented on every gender, every nationality, all age groups from all time periods. Venturing forward, Lia noticed later parts of their collection suggested an obsession with spotlighting those who succeeded in human society. Scientific home-made deities, all pawns, Lia thought to herself sadly while staring into the calming visage of a vaguely familiar man. His plaque simply read “Healing Touch v1337. Life force, cognitive function sustained. Bonding of multi-species traits effective. Subject used abilities granted to save lesser beings, accomplish inhuman feats. Lesser humans responded with worship. Tentative position as successful test decided based on modern prevalence of his influence, noting wars caused in or against his name as typical response of the species. Lia’s eyes turned back to the man’s face, briefly seeing her own in the reflection.
I’m just another success, a stubbornly persistent lab rat, Lia thought to herself, saddened slightly for all those trapped while she walked free. If these are the real historical figures how could various groups claim to know their Earthly burial places? Lia thought to herself confused, settling on conspiracy as the cause. Ramashin held no preference for heroes over villains, or fighters over orators. Anyone who had significant impact, both as an unwitting subject and as force for impact on their respective species was present.
“Hitler,” Lia said amazed, noting his familiar moustache. These fucks enhanced anyone just to see what would come of it. We really were just suggestable toys! Lia thought to herself frustrated, reminded of Yanmoushala’s trip through history via mind-hack. However, she was humoured to read his insane charisma and manipulative capacity were just scientific mutations bestowed in his sleep like so many before him. There were more humans present than any other species. Lia noted on various plaques it was because they kept increasing base human intelligence without repressing their animalistic nature. In many cases, they noted purposefully inspiring many individuals. Guess they got bored of maturing their toys before giving them dangerous potential and righteous purpose – more fun that way, I bet, Lia thought to herself sarcastically. Meanwhile, she inwardly tried to ignore the foreboding sense of irony and guilt she felt with every reviled figure she saw.
“Emilia Barton, corrupted subject with unintended powers. Destroyer of worlds and devourer of the true god - Yanmoushala. Elevated to Goddess... of Death...” Lia said to herself like she was reading a wanted poster. She stood in front of an empty pod staring down at the plaque daring her words to appear on-screen. Internally she was wracked between a sense of overcoming and profound guilt. She couldn’t tell if James was right to think it was their responsibility to clean up Earth, or if Yanmoushala had been waiting for her for eons.
“Am I a Goddess, or just a defective toy that wasn’t put away properly?” Lia asked quietly to no one in particular, wishing one of the preserved prisoners could respond. The faces of every celebrated hero or villain swam in her mind. Distractedly, Lia continued forward. When she finally came back from her inner debate, the face she saw sickened her. “General July Ramadon,” she growled. A sharp-faced, expressionless, older, raven-haired woman with slim physique stood before her like a curse. Lia found herself forced into a wash of memory.
She was fourteen years old, a proudly rebellious teen with the makings of an artist. Her best friend was a cold, calculating but outwardly polite and shy girl named Ginene Ramadon. For months they practically lived together, even though they were distant neighbours. They, like so many other kids were left to wander their derelict suburbs like discarded dolls. All because their parents weren’t patriotic enough to let them be drafted as child scouts for the long-since annexed Canadian Military. In reality, the suburbs were more like ghettos. Lia and Ginine were two of only thirty girls left in their originally 300 person strong town. The rest had either run away to find other employment or had succumbed to societal conditioning and enlisted for early training.
The world had become desperate. Canada had recently been decimated by United States invaders. Various political alliances being broken and unreasonable treaties caused mass economic destabilization. Regardless of country, everyone was struggling to survive the second Great Depression. Resources were beyond scarce; tensions mounted between Western and foreign powers. Laws were changed or ignored just so anyone able bodied could try to make a living. Many joined up simply for the promise of easy food and wages. Impressionable patriots and idealistic conscientious objectors alike were trained for what would soon be called the Economic Wars. Ginene was practically forced to enlist by her mother, the General, a notorious commanding figure. She’d had Lia’s mother discharged via political means simply because she disproved of her growing disillusion with the military. One was either driven and loyal or left to slowly starve to death. The new puppet government had no time for washed up mental cases, objectors, or other weak links.
Lia was left essentially alone with her parents for the better part of a year, just trying to survive. Meanwhile they faced constant bullying from returning soldiers on leave, most of them very young, not to mention the endless propaganda broadcasts. Lia was already ins
pired by her mother’s strength and had a knack for fighting herself, but her mother insisted she stay home to help support them. So she did, driven by a need to help people that her mother exploited for her sake. She remembered being overjoyed when Genine briefly came home with a new group of friends. She quickly realized her best friend wasn’t the same anymore.
For a couple days, things seemed relatively normal, save for their insistence on remaining in uniform. Soon Genine started to turn on her, judge her, bully her, even going so far as to mock her parents’ weakness. Lia bickered back, ever patient, trying to reach out to her real friend underneath. After a while things began to escalate. Lia heard rumours the military was giving its soldiers pick-me-up drugs so she assumed Genine and her group were just detoxing or had seen too much violence.
One night, Lia was called to the park by the group who had a campfire going in the woods. In the old days Lia would start them a fire to relax after a long day of being a teenage miscreant, so she wasn’t alarmed. Upon joining the group, things started casually then the bullying escalated into brutal violence. Lia remembered her mom had taught her some fighting tricks, but it wasn’t enough to take on five soldiers at once. “You know what they do to objectivist pussies over there?!” Genine demanded while her team brutally restrained Lia against the rough forest floor. “They take something like this dildo here...” she said threateningly calm, holding a dirty long-necked bottle up for Lia’s benefit, “and beat the pussy out of them!” Genine said in a singsong voice breaking into tearful laughter. Lia was terrified.
