Iris

by Nick Whitesides

  A spherical chamber with four pillars, two on each side, made of pure marble. Two sets of corridors, one behind the elevator and another in front.

  “Don’t move!” commands a voice.

  Exasperated, I let out a sigh. “Oh, come on.”

  An SIO, garbed in full combat gear and a gun plus pads on his knees and elbows, a face mask, and helmet. I put my arms up. One of the Council’s personal guards. Unless I figure a way out of this, it’s all over.

  “Wait, you’re the dissenter,” he realizes, steadying his aim and cocking the firearm.

  It’s not a pistol like that other first class uses. It has to be held with two hands since the barrel extends out at least a foot. I have my own gun, but I already said I want to avoid killing anyone else. Maybe I could reason with him?

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  His ears perk up, confused that anyone in this situation would try to talk. “I don’t speak to traitors,” he replies.

  What was I thinking? He’s a first class. There’s no way I could ever get through to him. “Don’t do it.” I say, as he brings up his BAND. When he activates the com, he’ll be distracted for just a split second. That’s when I’ll make my move.

  As predicted, he points the barrel away from me to touch the icon on his screen. Now! “The dissenter’s here!”

  I reach behind me and draw the pistol, aiming for his legs. Noticing me move, he fires. Get out of the way of the shot! The bullet grazes my temple, burning with extreme friction, causing a searing pain. I fire out two shots to try and distract him as I charge straight.

  The bullets burrow into the thick armor, the guard letting out a pained bark and staggers backwards. I wrestle for his weapon, grappling his hands and throwing them into the air. Two more shots ring out as I thrust a kick into his chest. The gun stays in my grasp as he’s thrown back.

  I point it carefully and demand, “Rescind your last com.” With a livid growl he rushes me.

  I won’t kill if I don’t have to. He goes for a kick, but I see it coming. Ducking under it, I counter with a jab to his side. However, the armor absorbs any damage inflicted. He throws a roundhouse kick which connects with my cheek, the throbbing boot-mark puffing up.

  The pain from the bullet burns and his slap unfurls my rabid anger. My arm jets forward, lifts him up by the neck, and slams him onto his back. “Enough!” I grunt, and fire three shots into his chest.

  The guard coughs hard and rolls onto his side. Two black orbs hang from his belt. Are those… grenades? While he lays stunned, I remove them and stuff one into each pocket. With a scowl, I say, “I’m done being nice,” and roll him forward. “Tell me how to get to the Control Room or I’ll kill you.”

  I threaten him, not holding back my contempt. His offending silence deteriorates my remaining empathy. So I smash the helmet with the butt of the gun, breaking part of his mask. “Where is it?” Resistant still, I dig the barrel against his forehead, tearing into his skin

  “There’s another elevator. Take a right down this corridor then a left. But it requires the BAND of a first class and a password to get to the top.”

  “What’s the password?” I ask gruffly. He looks away, hearing voices come from behind. “The password!” I strike him in the groin. “What is it?”

  “Fidelity,” he reluctantly admits, curling up into a ball. I shoot him once more in the chest for good measure and throw him over my shoulder. A barrage of gunfire hails at me. I dodge behind one of the large marble pillars; dropping the body just out of sight and shoot back blindly to keep them at bay.

  “Piim!” calls one of the approaching guards, all dressed in the same protective wear, take cover behind two pillars and the elevator opening. Checking mine and Piim’s guns, I count only one bullet left in the pistol and eight in the long barrel.

  Placing the clips back, I cock them both; ready to do whatever it takes to end this long winded odyssey. Their cladded footfalls discombobulate my hearing as they move from one location to the next. I discharge the long barrel twice at the ceiling.

  “Hold your positions,” orders one of them. “He’s got Piim.” The pillar provides just enough cover if I’m flushed against it, though they could easily ambush me from either side. I need a distraction. Something to take their focus off me.

  Apprehension strangles me as I force myself to peek out; inching forward with the most severe anxiety. Multiple rounds ravage the pillar, shaving off a layer of marble. They’re all exceptional marksmen. This is bad.

  “You have one chance to release Piim to us unharmed. In return, we will surrender you to the Council to be judged. If you refuse, we will have no choice but to take lethal action.”

  “Kill him!” Piim yells underneath me. I bend down and cover his mouth. He resists and bites down on my finger, drawing blood. My skin tears as I pull my hand out and thump him in the face with my stump, leaving him dazed.

  Out of the corner of my eye, approximating shadows stretch across the walls. Just like I thought, they’re going for an ambush. Readying the long barreled gun, I spring left out of my cover as one guard approaches. With precise aim, I pull the trigger and shoot him in the stomach.

  The bullet embeds into the vest, but doesn’t penetrate completely. As he falls to his knees, I bounce back to cover and then to the other side where two more guards wait for me. Two shots launch out as I squeeze the trigger, but I miss; hitting the wall while the second strikes the guard furthest from me in the arm.

  “I’m hit!” he shouts. “Fall back!”

  Their footsteps retract to the elevator shaft. I’ve bought myself a minute at best. I’m running out of options. The grenades I picked up earlier are still in my pockets. No, too dangerous. Maybe as a distraction?

  The stench of putrid sweat coats my shirt. As I wipe my forehead against the sleeve, I get an idea. First, I holster the rifle, then remove Piim’s vest, and finally lift him onto my shoulder. They’ll shoot at anything that moves. With the Kevlar apparel in hand, I lean out to the edge of my cover.

  Shots fire ferociously as I recoil. Perfect. I’m only five long strides away from the turn. If I can make it there, I’ll have a clear shot to the elevator. Facing the corridor, I take in a deep breath and exhale.

  “Okay.” Tossing the vest, I bolt for the opening. Another barrage of bullets fire just before I emerge. One step, no shots fired this way. Two more, they shout something to each other. Fourth step. Just one more. Another hail of bullets sprint past me, one of them blasting through my thigh.

  Last step. I’m out of their range but nearly collapse under the added weight of the young first-class SIO. With reduced speed, I limp to the other elevator. Piim moans, bouncing up and down, my shoulder blade sticking into his gut.

  I turn left and see a long white hall and a glass tube with a thin white elevator at the end, just like he said. With the extra weight and my hurt leg, I won’t outrun them. Searching my pocket again, I pull out one of the grenades, remove the pin with my teeth, and lob it over my head.

  This is going to be loud. My jaw clenches waiting for the explosion with gritted teeth as nearing voices get steadily louder.

  I only get about twenty feet away when it goes off. The shockwave tears through my body as a plume of smoke obscures their vision. Unable to slow my pace, blood squirts out; every step feels like someone’s stabbing my leg with a dull knife.

  The space around the elevator is circular with a dome ceiling. Finding the scanner, I ram Piim’s BAND next to it. It pings and the screen lights up with a green flash. “BAND recognized. Welcome SIO Piim.”

  THUD! His body slides off my back as the doors whip open. Sinister figures loom out of the vapor as I charge into the small chamber.

  “Password,” the voice demands.

  “Fidelity!”

  No sooner do I speak it, the doors slam shut and lock; with dozens of cracks appearing on the glass, almost covering it entirely.

  “Destination?”

  “Control Room!”
I scream, leaning down to apply pressure to the bullet hole. The transport shakes uneasily and then ascends, slower than the previous one. Luckily, the round went clean through.

  The numbers on the slate climb. 97… 98… 99… 100.

  “Top Floor.” The voice rings out and stops at the top floor to another domed room. The doors don’t fly open, but wobble; struggling to separate, then burst into a thousand razor sharp pieces.

  I react too slowly as I’m riddled with shrapnel. Underneath me the elevator bounces. It’s going to return downstairs. I pull the pin out of the second grenade, then leap out before it plunges downward once more; the muffled thump goes off just a few floors below me.

  Flat on my back, I secede to fatigue and lay on the ground; bleeding out. The dense smell of melting steel and smoke floods my nose, leaving me lightheaded. The pale white floor and walls are splattered with striking red crimson.

  I think… I think I’m dying. There’s nothing left of my own strength to draw from. Lifting my head is impossible and my limbs tingle with paralysis. Helplessly, I surrender to oblivion though my unblinking eyes remain open. After long, agonizing minutes, my body recovers.

  The SIO pills are at their full potency. With returning energy, I use my arms to drag myself forward. Even with the drugs boosting my maximum healing potential, my leg is too damaged to walk on. A red smear trails behind as I squirm my way out of the domed room, into a pitch black space.

  I’ve lost so much blood. I’ve been shot, stabbed, almost drowned and blown up twice. I take a break and pull out the knife to examine it. Instantly, blinding lights burst on. Giant screens cover the walls displaying surveillance footage.

  Rows of consoles stretch across with thousands of knobs, input keys, and flashing indicators. The control room! I have to get up. I have to end this. But my body protests, refusing to obey my commands to stand.

  “Come on! Move! It’s right there!” I place my stump and palm on the ground, getting to all fours. Both arms tremble under my own weight. Beyond the limits of my will, I push hard but drop to my stomach.

  I can’t. I don’t have anything left. Blood still dribbles out of my wound on my right thigh. I slam my fist against it, setting my nerves on fire, unable to hold back the scream.

  “Use the pain.” With added adrenaline pumping through me, my arms grip the smooth, reflective surface; fighting for each inch, my legs dangling uselessly. “This is the moment you prepared me for, Father,” I say aloud with focus.

  “This was your plan all along. You sacrificed your life to steal the Sphere schematics. You left this key for Jathom to give to me and look at what I’ve done!” I glance up at the ceiling, wishing the Council could hear me. “I survived! I escaped from Pura’s grip and defected.”

  The key emits a pulsating glow, increasing the closer I get to the center. Despite the pain, I demand with sadistic cruelty, that I stand on my own two feet. A humming buzz sounds out as the key guides me; glowing stronger as I near a single pillar in the middle of the room.

  Just a few more feet. I can’t believe it! I’m actually going to do it! I fight my way to it, the pills being the only thing keeping me conscious. Using the pillar for support, the key beams brightly with a high pitch hum. Maybe there’s a slot?

  I tap the key onto the marble which illuminates the pillar. Then, with a hiss, it separates; the taller part disappearing into the ceiling. The lower half stands four feet tall with a slit on the top. Yes! This is it! The key fits perfectly.

  “This is for Kalen!” I yell, turning the handle. The screens, the lights and all the power shut off. I’ve done it. I stopped it. It doesn’t matter if I die now, I finished what I came to do. IRIS is finished.

  The engrossing darkness blankets me with perfect fulfilment. A tear streaks down, wishing Kalen could see this. Without warning, everything comes back on; lighting the room even more brightly. . .

  “What?” I shout in disbelief. The screens all display me in the Control Room. In a pure white uniform, a shadowy figure stands twenty feet away to my left.

  I jerk up straight, the ghostly silhouette shuffling my way; sending chills down my spine. What’s happening? Shouldn’t this have deactivated the BANDs? Gentle footfalls tap onto the tiles. I can feel my body preparing to give out. Exerting my last bit of strength, I grip the still embedded key and break it off.

  Even if they kill me, they won’t be able to fix it. A terrible dread runs through my veins as I look closely at the shapes face. A face that I know all too well. Without looking away, he stares into my eyes and with a calming voice says, “Well done, Krys.”

  The tears flow down, unimpeded. Too overwhelmed to fully understand what I’m seeing, I reply with a soft whimper.

  “Father?”

  Chapter 21 No Strings

  Everything fades away. There is no Cathedral. No Pura, no desert, and no Sphere. The pillar, the screens, the consoles, everything around me disappears. There’s no air for me to breathe and no blood for me to bleed.

  Unable to accept the reality of the ghost before me, haunting me with those calm eyes that so often provided solace when I was a child. Those same eyes refract my image with emotionless severance. Looking at me, but not seeing me; piercing straight to my heart and breaking it.

  “Well done, Krys,” he repeats mechanically. The natural rhythm in his voice has lost all flavor, replaced with a soulless drone. “You have a lot of questions. It’s time to give you the answers.”

  There’s nothing else I can say. In shock, I behold the shadow of a man who used to be full of love. The man who did what he could for others. The man who used to dry my tears with strong hands. Tears that I couldn’t hold back when he died.

  A death that left me broken inside as I am truly broken now. Whoever I thought he was, my Father is certainly dead. The fabric of his white clothing rustles as he stretches out his hand.

  “Come with me.” I take a step towards him in compliance, then am reminded of my wounds with the intense pain in my thigh returning. I bite down on my lip, wincing as gravity takes hold.

  “Oh, yes, you’ve been substantially injured, haven’t you?” Reaching inside of his uniform, he pulls out a syringe filled with a blue liquid. A pit forms in my stomach as the memory of Jaak replays. My instincts begin screaming at me to get away.

  “Stay back!” I yell and withdraw the second grenade, my thumb rattling the pin.

  “Krys, calm down,” Kalen puts up his hands to pacify me.

  “You’re dead. This is a trick. I saw you… him, my Father laying dead in the desert.”

  Suddenly, all my strength is sapped. I try to hold my weight up with the stump but the pain overpowers me as I slump down. Kalen bends down and injects the needle into my leg.

  “This is the same compound we use for the SIO multivitamins. It’s more potent in liquid form, especially if introduced directly into the bloodstream.” As he pushes down on the plunger, a warm sensation of euphoria spreads all throughout my body.

  It starts in my leg then slithers up to my head, relieving my pain in seconds. Then, my vision gets fuzzy.

  “No… no, no!” I rip the pin out just before my eyes are forced to close. The explosion detonates in my ears, then fades out.

  What’s happening to me? My consciousness morphs into a labyrinth of random thought and uncontrolled reflection. The stabbing pain in my thigh draws me out momentarily, then another warm sensation rushes through my veins and I sink back into my intellectual coma.

  Eventually, I come back to awareness; sitting down on a piece of furniture with my head hanging limp. The grogginess lifts gradually as it bobs, then lifts up gently. I squint my eyes and press my back against the stiff chair; straightening up. Where am I?

  Getting a good look at my surroundings, I’m sitting in the middle of a circular chamber. Twenty four men and women, sit perched upon uncomfortable seats; held up by protruding platforms that occupy the room’s circumference. Their white clothing juxtaposes against the dark steel coating of
the floor and walls. Each one gawks at me in silence. Forty-eight eyes ogling me with repressive judgement.

  Am I dreaming? Am I still asleep? That must be it. A woman stands on her platform and speaks. “Welcome, esteemed members of The Council. We gather together as Pura’s collective on this, the sixth day of the fifth month of the year 2,340. With all representatives present, we will begin our evaluation of test subject 4-3-8-7.”

  This is all happening in my mind. When I wake up, I’ll be lying in my bed again. A deep voice says, “I propose we bring to light what the test subject experienced when he extracted himself from the Sphere.”

  “Of course, but we must understand the events that led up to this occurrence,” says another. This voice is softer and more appealing than the former.

  “I concur. Let us examine this from the beginning, but with order,” another female voice states coarsely.

  “Cornelus, take point.”

  “Very well,” answers a younger man, sitting just left of the center.

  The walls light up into one large screen, projecting his face. Deep wrinkles burrow into his forehead and his lips purse sourly when not speaking.

  It’s nothing. Just a bad dream. I nod my head. Yes that’s all this is!

  “Test subject 4-3-8-7. We, the members of this Council, have assembled jointly with regard to your performance in the Variant Risk BAND Assessment heretofore called VRBA. You’ll find that all your wounds have been treated to and your garments replaced.”

  Still not completely understanding, I look down dumbly at the comfortable white shirt and pants I’m now clothed in.

  “Our purpose this day is to review the simulated events consisting of the VRBA program and to assess our findings starting with the primary incident up to your extraction from the Sphere where no further tracking of your activities could be produced.”

  It’s like he’s speaking a different language. The drugs still taking effect on my comprehension. “Wait, you… you said. I don’t understand… what you said.”