by Andrew Gates
Shit, this thing is going to kill me, just like it did to everyone else.
“What? What do you want with me?” Damien asked, speaking normally now.
The creature put the ball back down, out of Damien’s line of sight.
“You have given to me that which I require. You have told me your name, where you are from and how many cities there are. You have assured me that there is only one city in what you call the Atlantic.”
“Yes,” Damien confirmed. “Yes, one city.”
“And your people, they owed allegiance to no one, correct?” the creature asked.
Damien closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears.
“Our people belonged to the Atlantic Federation,” he answered. This time he had to use the gibberish technique again.
“The Atlantic Federation,” the creature repeated. “No allegiance to Sorreveous?”
Damien shook his head and replied, “No.” I don’t even know who Sorreveous is.
“Then that is all,” the creature said, walking away. Its footsteps clanged against the metal floor.
Damien remained strapped to the table. He felt alone, cold, helpless. Not even the creature stood by him anymore to keep him company. Damien never wanted to end his own life before, but now he would do anything for a shot in the head.
“I have a question,” a different voice echoed through his mind.
Damien was shocked to hear a different speaker. He tried to turn and face whoever was talking, but his head could still only move up and down.
The room fell as silent as death for a moment. Damien did not know why, but he feared whomever this new speaker was even more.
“Release his restraints,” the new voice ordered.
Everything opened up. Damien quickly pushed himself up so that he was seated. He stared around the room in shock.
Until now, Damien assumed he and the creature were the only ones in the room. But as he looked around, he saw more creatures than he could count. Most were seated against the walls on all sides of the room like an audience to a show.
The chamber itself was massive, large enough to hold a basketball court and decorated with shining black walls unlike anything he had seen in the government district. Large V-shaped arches held up the tall ceiling like something out of a hellish architect’s dream. His own table was positioned in what seemed to be the center of it all. To his right, a few stood at attention as his interrogator joined them. To his left, a large glowing screen covered the wall behind the seated creatures. The screen was full of bright colors mashed together in a ball shape like some sort of abstract art.
“Kho Damien Saljov, I am your releaser,” the voice said.
Damien struggled to find which creature was speaking to him. He frantically searched around to see if any of their mouths were moving. Then one of the standing creatures stepped forward. This one looked different from the rest. It wore a long crimson cape, flowing well past its protruding abdomen and onto the shiny floor. The creature held what looked like a golden scepter in its claw, capped off with a red jewel in the shape of a spearhead.
“Hello,” Damien said to the creature as it walked his way. Whoever this was, it appeared quite regal.
“I am Kho Veznek, Under Chieftain to the Supreme Chieftess, her Majesty, Kal Khtallia, of the Kholvari. My brother, Kho Mohkzani, was killed by your people when we first discovered your city.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Damien said, trying to sound polite.
“Your apologies mean nothing to me, evolved-one,” the Under Chieftain replied. “Your kind got what they deserved. Though Kho Rendevahrk may have finished his questioning, there is one question that I still want answered.”
Damien swallowed nervously. He hoped he could give this creature the answer it desired.
“How do your people plan to counterattack?” the Under Chieftain asked.
Damien shook his head and shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Don’t lie to me! There must be a plan!” the Under Chieftain shot back. The decorated creature continued walking towards the table. By now it was so close that Damien could smell its pungent odor.
Kho Rendevahrk quickly dashed forward and caught up to the regal monster.
“Under Chieftain Kho Veznek, it is possible this specimen knows nothing of a counterattack. He has been under forced hibernation for the entire duration of-”
The decorated creature spun around and stared its counterpart in the eyes. The Under Chieftain raised its free claw in the air and Kho Rendevahrk quieted down. It was instantly clear who held the power in this room.
The Under Chieftain took a deep breath, looked down towards its crablike legs and then back up to Damien’s table.
“Kho Rendevahrk may have a point,” the decorated creature reluctantly said. Damien could tell the creature did not enjoy admitting this. “Be that as it may, I still do not trust you, Kho Damien Saljov. You are the first evolved-one we have awoken, but you shall not be the last. Prisoners are being transported here as we speak. If we find that you have been uncooperative with us, I shall show no mercy.”
Damien did not know what to do so he simply nodded his head. The angered Under Chieftain turned and walked back from where it had come. Kho Rendevahrk followed. All at once, the crowd of creatures slowly stood up from their seats and exited the chamber. I guess the show’s over.
Another creature walked up to his table from behind. Damien turned to face it. This one was leaner than the others and seemed to have smoother, younger skin (though that did not make it any less ugly). It scurried towards him like a crab to food.
Damien instinctively raised his hands in front of his face as it came near, though he lowered them as soon as he realized the creature meant no harm.
“I am Kal Likus. I will take you away from here,” the creature said to him. This one’s voice was softer and higher than the others. Damien assumed that this creature must have been a female and that the others were male.
“Where are you taking me?” Damien asked. He could not even tell if he was speaking real words or gibberish anymore.
“I will take you to your cell,” Kal Likus answered.
Damien shook his head.
“No,” he responded, “no, no, I don’t want to go to a cell. Just bring me up to the surface to die. Let me suffocate on the poison air. I don’t even care.”
“Up to the surface?” the creature repeated. “Evolved-one, where do you think you are? We are far beyond the depths of any ocean.”
The creature gestured towards the glowing wall. Damien turned to face it as members of the audience slowly continued to file out of the room.
The illuminated image was a circle, a perfect sphere surrounded by nothing but black. Dots of white and green decorated the empty space, slowly shifting like waves in the ocean. That’s when it hit him. This was no screen at all.
No, no, it can’t be, he thought to himself. I can’t be here. It’s impossible.
Damien Saljov, once an explorer of the deep, now looked down at his home planet from the window of an alien vessel.
SARA STUDIED THE TRIANGULAR SHIP above her head, wondering if anyone up there was watching her right now. Surely someone had to be up there, waiting like a sentry. The ship never seemed to move. It never seemed to do anything. Part of her wondered if it even served a function beyond floating there and looking menacing.
The lone woman decided to look away from the ship and think about something else. She had been asking too many questions lately and it was starting to take a toll on her mind.
After seeing corpses float to the surface a few weeks ago, a number of worries raced through her head and had not gone away. She wondered what had killed all those people. Were the submarines behind it like some kind of massacre? She wondered if she would have met the same fate if she'd stayed in the station. She wondered how many were dead, how many survived and how many people she had known personally.
Worst of all, she
wondered if it was all her fault. Maybe triggering the defense system all those months ago had set a series of events in motion, a series of events which had escalated to the point of global conflict.
"No," she said aloud, "no, that can't be it." She shook her head as she tried to reassure herself.
It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.
Apart from the terrible thoughts spinning through her mind, things were actually going pretty well for Sara. Her pneumonia symptoms had disappeared, the weather had been consistently pleasurable and the platform no longer smelled of death ever since she came to her senses and threw the corpse back into the water. For a brief few days, she kept onto the body. She even gave it a name, Kevin, and spoke to it as if it were alive. But the rotting flesh poisoned the air with a horrific scent and the caused the fruits and vegetables nearby to wither away. Sending the corpse back to the water was not an easy thing to do, but she knew it was necessary. Now she had not seen another body in days. They had all drifted west.
West.
Sometimes she wondered what was out there. The farmers would come from the west in their flying vehicles. There must have been land nearby, otherwise where were they coming from? At times she debated the idea of jumping off the raft and swimming west until she found solid land. But no matter how long she thought about such things, she inevitably found that she could not part from her floating sanctuary.
Meanwhile, the farmers continued their usual rounds following whatever massacre had taken place. Sara hid from them as always, though she began to wonder what would happen if she decided to finally reveal herself. Perhaps these farmers could help her, maybe even answer her questions about the people, about the spaceship, about what happened to Damien.
But alas, she remained hidden. It seemed that was all she was ever destined to do.
Sara sighed.
"Stop worrying about things," she told herself as she exhaled. "We don't want to die of stress."
"That would be terrible considering how much we've endured," she added.
Sara laughed. She had to admit, that was funny.
"We can't do anything about the deaths, about the ship, about the station. All we should do, all we can do, is stay here and live our lives," she explained. "We know the platform is safe. Everything else is uncertain."
Sara sighed.
"But what if there's a better life out there?" she asked.
"Should we give up what we have here for that chance?"
"If it's worth it, yes."
"But we don't know if it's worth it, Sara. We don't know anything. Leaving the platform is a risk."
"Nothing is ever gained without taking risks," Sara debated.
"And there are some risks better left untaken."
Sara let out a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. She turned and gazed westward.
"What did we say? We said don't worry about these things." She lowered her head. "Then why can't we seem to stop?"
"We? Who are we?"
That was an odd question. She raised her head again.
"We, you know," Sara explained, "you and me, the voice I talk to when I'm alone."
The lone woman had taken to talking to herself for weeks now. She had been doing it more and more each day. Lately the conversations had gotten longer and longer, but she never gave her other voice an identity. As far as she was concerned, her other voice was nothing more than an extension of herself. It seemed strange to address the voice as if it were another person.
"You? Me? I? Are we not all one and the same?" asked the voice.
"I... uh... I don't know." Sara didn't know quite how to answer that question.
"So now it's I? What happened to we?"
"It's still we, not I. Sorry, I just... uh..."
Sara was tripped up. Why are we talking about this? Am I trying to talk about this? Sometimes it felt like she was not even guiding the conversation at all.
"There it is again, I, we, me, you, us. Who are we, Sara?" she responded. Her voice was getting louder. She was angry.
"Do not confuse me!" she shouted back. She slapped her head. "I... I am Sara. I know who I am. Captain Sara Gessetti, pilot of the Cassidy X20, Atlantic Federation Navy."
The other voice had not asked questions like these before. Sara wondered how this was even possible. It was as if the voice was developing its own identity.
"If you are Sara," she replied in an ominous tone, "then who am I?"
Sara paused and lowered her hands. Her palms were red from slapping herself.
"I... I don't know," she answered. She tried to act calm, but she felt her body tremble. "Aren't you just a voice I speak to?"
"Then why do we fight? Why do we argue?"
She felt her heart beat a little faster. This conversation was starting to scare her.
"To give me someone to talk to, right?
"Stow the trogshit, Sara, you must know by now that I am not just a voice in your head."
Cursing, but I don't curse. Did I really just say that?
"Please don't curse. I don't like cursing."
"Sara doesn't like cursing," she snapped back, "but I can say whatever I fucking please."
The woman started to panic now. It felt like she could not even control the words coming out of her own mouth. It was as if the voice inside of her had manifested its own consciousness.
"If you aren't me, then who are you?" Sara finally shouted. She knew this was the question she wanted her to ask.
She grinned, as if she had finally gotten what she desired.
"I am not Sara," the voice replied. She stood straight and spoke with confidence. "Sara is weak. She questions herself, but tells herself not to question. She wants to leave the platform, but knows it is the safest place. She is conflicted, full of guilt and worry."
It's my voice. It sounds like me. But why can't I control this?
"And you are not?" Sara nervously asked. Part of her was afraid to learn the answer.
"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I am strong."
Strong. How strong?
"Stronger than Sara?"
She nodded.
"Sara is not needed anymore. Sara will have us worry ourselves to death. She will have us wallowing in guilt. She may even lead us away from the platform and to our doom!"
"And what would you have us do?" she asked.
"I would have us put aside such petty thoughts. I would have us stay on the platform until the end of days, where we will live long and happy lives. I would have us be strong."
Sara could not believe what she was hearing. She sounded mad. Her isolation had finally driven her to the point of insanity and delusion.
"I am crazy!" she said. She paced around the platform. "Come on, come on, come back to your senses. I am one person, not two! I am Captain Sara Gessetti, pilot of the Cassidy X20, Atlantic Federation Navy. I am Captain Sara Gessetti, pilot of the-"
"Saying it again won't help," she interrupted. She stopped pacing and stood still. "Repeating a name... it's as pointless as trying to swim to shore. Nothing will come of such efforts."
"Go away!" Sara screamed. She threw her hands in the air. She just wanted to be alone now.
"Look at you, panicked, worried, afraid."
"I am afraid," Sara admitted, "afraid that I have gone mad."
"You have," she agreed, "but what is done cannot be undone. I exist now. There is no going back."
Sara crouched down into a ball. She rocked back and forth like an infant. She breathed heavily.
Part of her suspected that something was wrong for several days, but now she could see it clearly. There was no doubt. Two people now occupied her mind. If there was room for two, there could be room for more.
"Will... will there be more of you?" she asked through gasps of breath.
"Maybe. We cannot know for certain."
She felt tears stream down her face. Sara could not believe this was happening.
"Then... what do I do now?" she asked.
> "You give yourself to me. I can keep us safe."
Sara shook her head.
"No, no, I can't do that."
She sighed.
"I understand. It's a hard thing to do. But know this: if you do not give yourself over to me, I will take control myself."
"No!" Sara shouted as loud as she could. She stood up again and banged at her head with her closed fists. "No!" She repeated. "No! No! No!"
The strikes were hard and forceful. Her knuckles ached. Blood began to drip from her head. She would not stop until the voice was killed.
"Stop this!" she replied. She crossed her arms over her chest and wrestled to hold them still.
She made me cross my arms, Sara realized. She's fighting for control.
"No, you stop this!" Sara shot back.
"Stop what? Stop keeping us alive? You're trying to kill us!"
"I'm trying to kill you."
"If you kill me, you kill yourself."
Sara grimaced.
"Then maybe that's what needs to happen!" she shouted.
"If you believe that, then you truly are insane. Don't you see? You need me now more than ever!" She threw her hands in the air but quickly pulled them back to her chest again.
"I was doing fine before you came along," Sara debated.
"You weren't insane before I came along. Now you are."
"Get out of my head!"
She tried to strike herself again, but the other voice was too powerful. Her arms remained crossed.
"We don't need you anymore, Sara," she calmly replied. She stood straight and lowered her hands to her side.
"Get out! Get out!"
"You cannot give me orders. I have control."
"Get out now!"
"Ssh," she said, placing her finger over her mouth. "It's time to go, Sara."
Sara was quiet. She did not respond. She tried to shout, but nothing came out.
Someone else had control now, like a parasite infecting a host. She nodded her head and turned to face the tower of steam. She smiled.
"Goodbye, Sara. My name is Allora."
EVERYONE I KNOW IS DEAD.
The thought was almost impossible to accept. Tracey, Sara, all his friends and family, were erased from the station by an army of alien beasts. They never stood a chance.
