Eldritch Night

by J M Hamm

  “Yes, uh, Catayla gave it to me in case we needed to communicate. It hasn’t worked since the sky exploded and that pillar of light appeared. She claimed that communication had been cut off due to some kind of interference. That’s why we were looking for her … I mean your Peacekeepers.”

  The alien captain stared at me in silent appraisal, pausing for an uncomfortably long ten seconds or so before speaking once more. “If you would return the tracking device, Mr. Finn, I would appreciate it. They are generally not loaned to outsiders.”

  “Tracking…?” I said. “Sure, uh … here.” I threw it to him with a gentle underhand. “I’m just here to help, I’m not looking for any trouble.”

  I subconsciously took a step backward, but I collided with a wall of scaled flesh. I hadn’t noticed them get so close. Had I been that distracted?

  “You seem nervous, Mr. Finn. Do not worry, I will be asking you to honor that promise of cooperation, in due time, but for now I am afraid that it is you who is once more in need of my help.”

  “Me?”

  My voice wavered. There was no threat to be found in Sebbit’s mechanical voice, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He’d helped me in the past, and yet something about his manner told me this time was different … yet, his face was the same unreadable mask it had always been.

  “Yes, Mr. Finn,” he said. “It seems you have been infected, a pervasive corruption that threatens to overwhelm you both mentally and physically.”

  He stepped towards me once more, this time coming within arm’s length of me before reaching out a hand and gently plucking something from my shoulder. One of the Peacekeepers behind me grasped my arms, holding me still as Sebbit continued to examine me.

  It was a claustrophobic feeling; my heart rate increased, and my breath came in short, ragged pants. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up straight and sweat poured down my back despite the chill that ran up my spine.

  I gulped and looked away, breaking eye contact with Sebbit for the first time since the conversation had begun.

  “I’m —"

  “Do not worry, Mr. Finn,” Sebbit said.

  He held up his hand and showed me a small particle, the blue stood out in sharp contrast against the redness of his palm. “The Tartarus Grass is deadly, and its spores can induce a fate even worse than death, but we’ve had to deal with its likes before. We will cleanse it, and you — in good time.”

  “Tartarus Grass, I…”

  I realized that he was talking about the creatures I had fought and the massive intelligence that controlled them from its hiding place beneath the earth. I let out my held breath in a sigh of relief. I clenched my hands and squeezed my eyes shut, calming my nerves before looking back towards the alien captain once more.

  “Thank you,” I said. “That thing will be in my nightmares for quite a while.”

  “You are welcome,” Sebbit said. “I am, however, surprised at how well you are taking the news, you seemed almost relieved to find out it was the Tartarus Grass infecting you.”

  He crossed his arms, raising a single, clawed finger to rough skin of his chin. He regarded me, staring silently ahead. I wanted to speak, but each time I held back because it seemed as if the Captain was on the verge of saying something.

  “Well, I mean —” I finally said, before being interrupted.

  “It seemed that perhaps you thought I meant something else, Mr. Finn? How many corrupting influences might you be under? Perhaps, we will have time to talk about your other secrets soon? For now, I am going to have to ask that you join me, as my guest. I apologize that I cannot extend this conversation further.”

  He looked over my shoulder and gave a slight nod before turning on his heel with a sharp and practiced twist that ending with him walking back towards the transport.

  The hands that still rested on my arms tightened, twisting my arms behind my back as something cold and hard snapped around my wrists. I immediately felt weak and would have fallen to my knees if those same hands hadn’t clamped down even harder.

  I yelled out and tried to shrug off my captors, but I found that my arms were useless. My limbs felt numb and tingled with pinpricks as if my circulation had been cut off.

  “What have you done to me?”

  Sebbit stopped, taking the time to turn his head towards me a final time. He glanced at my two captors and gave a nod which prompted them to let me fall to my knees. They continued to watch as I tumbled into the road, bits of shattered pavement grinding into my face like sandpaper.

  “I have done nothing to you, Mr. Finn. I have not removed anything that was yours to begin with. You will feel weak, but it will pass as your body quickly adapts to your natural strength. You are no weaker now than you were before the system saved this primitive world, and no permanent harm has been done to you.”

  “So, you’ve chained and crippled me … is this how you generally treat allies? I was helping you, God dammit. I risked my life to help Catayla. I almost died trying to help her find you.”

  “Allies are those I trust, Mr. Finn. They are those with whom I share a common cause, those that do not lie to me, and those that I can rely on to have my back — you, Mr. Finn, have none of those qualities. You will be treated fairly, and in accordance with imperial law and Peacekeeper protocol — I recommend you cooperate fully. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  I felt cold metal digging into my wrists as I was dragged to my feet.

  ***

  I awoke in a small cell. The pale grey paint was chipping from the walls and the only furniture was the concrete slab I was currently laying on and a metal toilet in one corner. I felt cold, and I recognized the early pangs of hunger. No one had taken the time to give me so much as a mattress, let alone a blanket or food.

  The cuffs were gone, but I could feel bruising on my arms. Otherwise, I was unhurt but still felt weak as if my muscles had atrophied. Even sitting up was a major undertaking that left me feeling dizzy and short of breath.

  There were no windows or bars and the only door was a solid piece of metal without so much as a sliding panel or a slot to pass things through. I was completely isolated. I wasn’t sure how long I had been here. It felt almost a day, judging from the hunger, but it could have only been hours or minutes.

  At first, I yelled, demanding to be released. My screams soon devolved into sorrowful pleading and promises. I also tried pounding on the door, but my fists quickly became bruised. I was surprised by how fragile I had become. I had grown used to feeling like a demi-god capable of superhuman feats.

  Now… I just felt human. Tired.

  I spent hours trying to open my stats. I used mental commands and visualizations, even spoken commands, but nothing happened. Nothing. Even the Fisher had gone silent.

  I felt a sense of loss almost as great as if I’d lost a limb, a part of me. I’d only had access to the system for a relatively small part of my life, but already I had grown accustomed to it — dependent even.

  After failing to view my stats I tried casting a spell, hoping that perhaps I was only blocked from viewing my abilities and not cut off from them entirely. It was useless. Powerless and bored, a maddening combination. With nothing to do and no hope of escape, I closed my eyes once more.

  I would simply have to wait for them to come to me — hopefully, I wouldn’t die of thirst, or boredom, in the meantime.

  Chapter Thirty-six: Recollect and Recover

  Eat, sleep, shit — I lost track of home many times I repeated this pattern.

  There was no point of reference with which to measure time; the sun rose and fell beyond my sight and no trace of its splendor pierced the walls of my prison. The minutes conspired to evade me, disappearing into a vast sea of uncertainty that filled the time between the mundane moments of my life.

  On one such day, or perhaps night, I awoke to a meal of water held in a metal carafe and a bar of some kind of brown-grey substance, both served on a red, ceramic plate. It was expecte
d, and it didn’t taste nearly as bad as it looked, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

  What was the point?

  Why did they even bother feeding me if they were going to leave me here to rot? Sebbit must have a use for me. He had at least taken some pains to keep me alive, why else feed me? The captain didn’t seem like the type to expend resources without a purpose. Had I been judged already, condemned to rot in forgotten solitude?

  I whispered to myself, but no one answered.

  I had tried finding the place, the Mindscape, that the Fisher had shown me. He had claimed it was a part of my own mind, so I theorized I should be able to enter it again. Despite having no lack of quiet or time with which to practice, my meditations were either useless or faded into a restless sleep. The bird never answered my pleas for help — it was dead or lost. Or perhaps it had forgotten me as well?

  Could they keep me like this forever? Sebbit didn’t seem the type to murder me out of hand, but I had no idea what system of laws and justice he followed. I only knew he would follow them, likely to the letter with machine-like efficiency and lack of empathy.

  I remembered something my father had once told me, “true justice is free of mercy.” It was a comforting thought until one ran up against that justice.

  I would have to hope that Peacekeeper law — or Hegemonic law, I wasn’t sure on the exact relationship between the two — would grant me some version of basic ‘human’ rights. I suppose the term would need to be updated.

  In the meantime, I waited.

  In my moments of clarity, I kept my mind active by reviewing the events of the past weeks. I would replay images, and dwell on my mistakes. I had more of them than I care to admit. My memory was still sharp, much sharper than it had been before the system had enhanced it — though not to the superhuman level I had recently grown used to.

  I wasn’t sure if this meant that I still had some bonus from the system, or if there were other explanations. The Fisher seemed an obvious suspect … or at least a source of information. I had never imagined I would desire the unsettling creature’s company. Hell, I’d even overlook its riddles and alliteration … well, to a point anyway.

  Were my abilities truly gone? Perhaps I was only blind to them or they had been countered by some temporary effect. I decided to test my physical capabilities to get some form of baseline. I wasn’t a gym rat before Eldritch Night, but I tried to keep in shape and knew I could pop of forty pushups without much problem. I just had to test to see if I was stronger.

  … 82 … 83.

  I collapsed onto the hard floor with a sheen of sweat flowing over my back. I grabbed the tray, finishing the water before I had made it back to the cold slab I used as a bed and chair.

  I was much stronger than I remembered, but not unreasonably so. I’d been through enough in the past few weeks that I was probably in much better shape. Combine that with the system healing me and keeping me healthy, and it’s possible my natural muscle fibers had grown quite a bit stronger — even without system enhancements.

  The test might have been inconclusive, but exercise at least gave me a purpose. I needed a goal to focus myself towards, something to keep my mind from deteriorating further.

  From then on, my every waking moment was spent alternating between calisthenics and meditations. Only rarely would I fall into fits of talking to myself or calling out for the Fisher. Sometimes I would shout at the walls or bargain with myself in quiet whispers. At other times, I would sit in meditation, despite having no real sense of how to do so.

  During one particularly bad night, I dreamt that Liv visited me. She stood over my bed, smiling as she gazed down at me. As she left, I sat up and caught a glimpse of her turning her head. The right side of her face had been burned horribly, now nothing but scar tissue resembling melted wax.

  “Liv,” I yelled, but found myself staring at an empty grey wall.

  I had other dreams, but none so vivid. I found meditation before sleep helped to calm me and kept the worst of the dreams at bay. I also kept the hope that I could find an escape — even if it was into my own mind. It hadn’t born fruit yet, but I did find the practice surprisingly comforting. It brought me to the realization that what I desired was control, even over myself.

  The promise of the Mindscape was false. It was a plaything, something I could mold to my own desires but that had no power in the real world. Sleep would elude me, I realized. Already, my mind was spinning with conflicting emotions and speculation.

  The Fisher might be gone. I need to …

  I was startled from my thoughts; the hissing of pressurized air being released was accompanied by the clicking of metal gears grinding against each other. The door of my prison cell slid open, disappearing into a recess in the wall. Within the doorframe stood a tall silhouette backed by dull blue light.

  There had been no warning, and at first, my mind didn’t register the event. This couldn’t be real. Had that door ever opened? Could it?

  But then it hit me; sweet, unfiltered air filled my cell. It was slightly cooler outside the room and the breeze this created felt like silk against my face. I breathed in deeply before looking up.

  “You’re not who I was expecting,” I said. “Go away.”

  “And who, exactly, were you expecting?”

  Catayla was wearing a new uniform, this one completely white and without any armored plates. The full body jumpsuit had no adornments except for a single circular patch on the left shoulder — three interlocking gold lines atop a cluster of leaves affixed to a blue-green background.

  She had no weapons, but she was carrying a small tray covered with a white cloth.

  “I’m not sure,” I answered. “Someone I didn’t want to throttle for selling me out and leading me into a trap, perhaps?”

  “That’s not exactly how it happened, Finn. I had a job to do, and you were only a small part of that. Did you think we were friends? Even if we were, did you think I would betray my own people?”

  “I thought we were a team,” I said. “I trusted you. I chose to trust you despite having every reason not to. I risked my life fighting beside you, so yes — I thought we were friends.”

  This seemed to affect her, and she stared at me silently for a few moments before continuing.

  “Finn —”.

  “Look, let’s forget it. We’re not a team, you were only following orders. I get it. You’re a soldier. Just tell me why you’re here.”

  Catayla walked over and took a seat on the cold slab that had failed in every way to resemble a bed or a comfortable place to sit. I kept her gaze as I stood, my legs popping from having been forced into an uncomfortable position for way too long.

  “Do you know why I’m here…” she motioning for me to wait when I tried to interrupt. “Please, just listen for a moment? We suspect that you were involved with a group of cultists, traitors that have infiltrated and sabotaged your world.”

  “Is this because of the Eye?” I asked. “Sebbit knew I lied about it, I get it. Is that really enough of a reason to keep me in solitary confinement for weeks?”

  “Six days, Finn,” she said. “It’s only been six days, and we needed that time to finish our investigation. If you cooperate, I believe Se… Captain Xern, will be lenient on you.”

  “Six? … that can’t. And the others? Tiller, is he okay? Bridgette and Worthy — did everyone make it over the river?”

  “Tiller is here, we’ve built a base out of an abandoned Naval vessel,” Catayla said. “The others all survived and have been returned to the human settlement, New Charleston.”

  “Thank you, I’m glad you helped them. Is Tiller a prisoner too, can I see him?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “He’s not a prisoner, but he doesn’t have free reign of the facility, either. He insists on talking with you, but command, Captain Xern, has decided that all interactions with you are to be limited.”

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re here, then? There isn’t much I can tell
you. I’ve only been part of one ‘cult’ and I doubt you’d be interested in anything that went on at St. Mary’s.”

  “We know. We’ve been tracking and recording you since even before I gave you the disk. We don’t suspect you are in league with the Separatists, but you are connected somehow. You likely had contact with them shortly before the system’s intervention.”

  “Separatists?” I asked. “That sounds an awful lot like an internal matter. Something I, or anyone from Earth, would have nothing to do with.”

  “Eat,” she said. She uncovered the tray, revealing a small loaf of bread, a few red berries, and a glass of a golden-brown liquid. “Afterwards, you can tell me everything you know, and we’ll both have to trust that my superiors will know what to do.”

  “Is that…” I asked while staring at the tray.

  “Sweet tea,” she answered. “Tiller mentioned it was something of a favorite of yours.”

  “Well, you catch more bees with carrots … Or was it the stick?”

  ***

  The door slid closed behind Catayla, leaving me alone once more.

  I thought back over our conversation. We had spoken for several hours, and I’d held almost nothing back. The only secret I’d kept to myself was the existence of the mental space that the Fisher occupied, and its ability to speak with me there.

  I had told Catayla everything that had happened since seeing the burning eye. I told her about waking up unharmed in a puddle of my own blood all the way up to my battle with the Tartarus Grass. She already knew most of it, but she still made me recount every second of it in clear detail.

  She hadn’t answered any of my questions about the cultists or Separatists, but I was somehow certain that they were connected. Had someone I knew played a role in the end of the world? Was it more than random chance?

  The thought scared me more than I can explain. If the event that had destroyed Charleston was not random chance, but instead something engineered, then the implications were terrifying. It could happen anywhere, anytime.

  Could eldritch abominations and planet-devouring Elder Gods simply be summoned like an Uber? Why would such beings even care about what lowly humans did? We were nothing but ants fighting over a pebble in their eyes.