The Complete New Dominion Trilogy

by Drury, Matthew J.

  Nothing at all…

  She switched off the engine, taking deep breaths, hesitating for a moment before standing up and heading to the vehicle’s external door. After a soft, grinding whirr, the door slid open and she walked down the ramp, off into the bowels of the Thunder, her expression set into one of grim determination.

  On the bridge, she activated the ship’s computer system, immediately setting up a sensor sweep of the alien city’s coordinates which would detect any signs of life in the area, both above and below ground. If Cris was still alive out there, she would find him. A bioship’s lifeform sensors were hugely accurate, able to identify not only complex organisms by blood type, heart rate or metabolic setup, but also plant life of all three known types – carbon, xenon and silicon-based.

  Chen stared blankly at the holographic readout as the computer performed its scan. Fatigue, and a heavy sense of unease plagued at her soul, but she could not rest. She needed to keep moving, to keep going, otherwise she dreaded what might happen to her. After another moment, a chirping sound emitted from the control panel. The scan was finished. She blinked, examining the results, which scrolled through the air in front of her like a glowing neon light. Just as she suspected, the scan had come back negative.

  There was nothing out there.

  Nothing.

  Cris was dead.

  Here was the irrefutable proof; the confirmation she had needed in her mind.

  She sighed heavily, nodding to herself, fighting back tears. She felt like she had been crying her whole life. There was a hole in her heart. It was as though she sat now on the edge of a precipice, looking down into the black depths below, unable to help herself, unsure of what to do. Why did Cris have to die?

  Why?

  Was this supposed to happen? Was she hurtling inexorably down a predestined path, doomed to repeat a paradoxical Möbius Strip of temporal cause-and-effect leading to the creation of Damarus? Or were the choices she was making here having an active effect on things to come, just as her future self had promised? Also, and perhaps most importantly of all, where was her God in all of this?

  Was this another test of her faith?

  Did God even exist…?

  She didn’t know what to think any more. Everything she had come to know from the Lord Damarus Bible had come into question over the past week, and it was taking its toll, reaching a climax. Were the revolutionary Pandeist concepts of the Third Testament just a bunch of lies invented by a monster? Could the synergy between deism and pantheism championed by Damarus be truly mythical, as Ammold Paramo had advocated?

  She put her head in her hands, trying to pull herself together. She sat there for a long time, unmoving. Minutes, maybe hours passed. She hardly noticed the passage of time beyond the ferocity of her own self-damning thoughts. Soon, her anxiety developed into serious alarm, and she opened her eyes. She began to notice, somewhere on the edge of her hearing, a distinct banging sound, like something repeatedly impacting on the ship’s outer hull – bump, bump-bump, bump. She frowned, unsure of what was happening, and absently waved a hand over the computer console. Sure enough, the ship was registering small impacts on the ship’s exterior airlock door. As she focused her hearing, the more she became convinced it was somebody standing outside, knocking on the door.

  A wave of horror passed over her. “It can’t be,” she muttered to herself. She refocused the ship’s lifeform sensors to scan the area immediately outside and around the ship, and waited anxiously for the results. Sure enough, the readout indicated that nothing out there was alive; whatever was making that sound was something artificial, or unnatural. She gritted her teeth, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and alone.

  What in God’s name was it?

  The banging sound wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was increasing in intensity now, as if desperately trying to draw her attention. Certainly, it had been successful in that respect. She stood up and went to the airlock, taking a plasma rifle from the armoury cupboard along the way – just in case. When she reached the control panel for the outer door, she took a deep breath to compose herself, her muscles tensed and ready for action, before punching the control.

  The door slid back, and there, standing tall and confidently in the dry sands outside, was something impossible…

  How…?

  “Cris!” she screamed, unable to believe what her eyes told her was true.

  Cristian Stefánsson stood like a demigod at the base of the landing ramp, his eyes glowing like twin moons.

  But how? The ship’s lifeform sensors hadn’t detected anything…

  She dropped the plasma rifle, and stumbled down the small landing ramp into Cris’ arms. Her eyes were raw and numb, sore from her relentless mind-shredding dread, and her lips were swollen; her whole body shook and she was just so grateful that he was alive…

  “Cris…” She shivered against his chest. “I’ve been so scared…”

  “Shhh. It’s all right.” He stroked her hair until her trembling began to fade, then he cupped her chin and gently raised her face to look into his eyes. “You don’t ever need to worry about me, Lora. Nothing can hurt me now.”

  She blinked, overwhelmed by a feeling of relief. Despite their bulky Rãvier suits they embraced tightly; impossible to say which of them kissed the other first, they were suddenly and urgently devouring each other, overcome with intense emotion. He felt her hands on his head and her mouth moving beneath his, and then his own hands were pushing her back aboard the Thunder, through the airlock and around the twisting corners within. She felt like she was being swept away…

  “Lora,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through.”

  “I thought you were dead,” she gasped between breaths. Seized by her instincts, she whispered a sharp command to her suit and it collapsed down, reverting to its protoplasmic state. A moment later, the small, circular device fell to the deck and she was naked, and his hands found her waist and the warm sweep of her back. He kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck, her hair, and as she buried her mouth in his shoulder he swiftly whispered away with his own Rãvier, pushing her violently then into the ship’s primary sleeping cabin.

  “This isn’t happening,” she gasped, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her nipples were hard. “God, where have you been? How did you get here?” She had so many questions, but at the same time, she felt an intense desire to be near him, to be with him. Her face was flushed with colour.

  “Shhhh,” he breathed. “Just relax, Lora. I’m here now. I’m going to take care of you.” His voice was almost hypnotic. He clasped her round the thighs, and lifted her up so that his tongue could scour her breasts. “Oh, Cris!” she gasped, bracing her arms on his bare shoulders, surprised at his eagerness, his strength. “I love you.”

  Slowly he returned her to her feet and they kissed again, more slowly this time. Pulling back from her he looked at her closely, examined her in a way that a predator might examine its prey. He licked his lips, his eyes glowing with hunger. She looked quite different from how he remembered her – she looked more vulnerable now, weak and inviting, like a fruit ready to be plucked and eaten. She, in turn, looked back unflinchingly at him, a look of burning, lustful desire in her emerald-green eyes.

  They were both naked now, and taking a couple of steps backwards Cris lowered himself into a sitting position on the simple bunk in the middle of the small room. She sat facing him, her tanned thighs straddling him, her nipples hard against his chest, the moistness of her vagina damp against his stomach.

  “How did you survive that cave-in?” she asked again. “How did you get here?”

  He didn’t answer, slipping his hand palm-upwards between her legs and parting her with his fingers. He felt the Power of the All roaring through his veins, guiding his movements, almost like a force possessing him. She squirmed, and he felt his fingers slip inside her. Steadily, gasping louder now, she began to move against the heel of his hand, buckling. Below them, the sprung mattress beg
an to creak with their motions. A moment later, Cris pulled his hand away, and Lora allowed his burning manhood to penetrate her, biting her lower lip and grunting as it did so.

  “Stop talking,” he said.

  “Fuck me,” she breathed, nodding.

  And so he did, savagely and without hesitation.

  “What happened to you, Cris?”

  Lorelei Chen sat up, brushing back her dark hair. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers as she stretched leisurely across the sheets. A look of fascination came over her features as she looked at him in the glow of the alien sun’s rays which glared down on them through the small porthole window. He looked different than the Cris she knew from before, somehow. Stronger, perhaps. More empowered.

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he got up and walked to the open doorway, then bent down to retrieve his Rãvier unit, which had fallen to the deck across the threshold, its central orb-like feature lying facedown on the metallic surface. He brought it up and placed it to his chest, activating it with an impatient snort. When his body had been fully encased by the suit, he turned to regard her. “Lora, we have to leave,” he said. Then he went through the door without another word.

  She watched him go, exhaling with a heavy surprise, then yelled after him. “Hey, Cris! Come back. What’s going on?” She rolled from the bunk and dashed into the corridor after him, feeling confused. On the way she scooped up her own Rãvier unit and activated it without stopping, submitting to the metamorphosis as she ran. She followed Cris to the bridge, where he sat in the pilot’s seat now, waving his hands over the main control panel. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Cris, answer me, for God’s sake!”

  “I need to find the Asterite,” he said, calling up the holographic map of the universe. The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the twinkling points of light representing clusters of galaxies.

  “Asterite?” she repeated. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  He took a deep breath, and turned his head to look at her. “Lora, this is very important. I need to find the Asterite. I need to kill it.”

  She blinked. Clearly, he wasn’t acting himself. “Cris, you’re scaring me. What’s an Asterite? And how did you learn to operate a Zara’moth computer?”

  He sighed, and avoided her gaze.

  She took a step closer to him. “Don’t shut me out,” she urged him. “Don’t do this. Let me in. I love you.” Then she bent closer to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

  He swallowed dryly. “I… I saw the Light.”

  She frowned. “What Light? What did you see?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I learned so much, Lora. He showed me the way.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Who is he?”

  “The Eidolon. He saved me.”

  She felt a chill pass through her body. Eidolon? “You mean… like a ghost? A shadowy double?”

  “I saw the Light,” he said again, with an almost religious fervour. “And I saw them.”

  “Them?” she frowned.

  “Alexis… and Kim. I saw them. They’re alive, Lora. In the Light. And I can see them again. I have a way to go home.”

  Chen took a single step away from him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable by what he was saying. He was deluded, for sure – and then it occurred to her that she was probably witnessing the beginning of his transformation.

  It had already started.

  He was becoming Damarus.

  “No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “This can’t be happening.”

  “I can see them again,” he barked. “All I need to do is kill the Asterite… and the Power to Ascend into Heaven will be mine!”

  “Stop it,” she said. “Stop talking like that… you’re frightening me!”

  “You’re not the one who needs to be afraid.” He turned his attention to the universe map and closed his eyes then, taking a long, deep breath. He waved his hands over the controls, zooming into the projection, enlarging the display of a star in the Kalium Galaxy, and the four planets orbiting it. “Here. The Asterite is here…” He opened his eyes. Using his connection to the All, he could feel the Entity. He knew, with unshakable conviction, exactly where it was across the gulf of the universe. “It needs to die.”

  New tears started, but they didn’t matter; she knew that she would never have enough tears for this. “Cris… no. Please. Let’s just leave. Together. Now. We’ll take the ship back through the wormhole, like you suggested before…”

  Red tears began to fall from Cris’ eyes then; with a stark horror, Lorelei Chen realised he was crying tears of blood. His face was no longer human. And in that moment, she realised it was probably too late for him.

  “No,” he said simply, wiping his tears, unfazed by their deep crimson colour. “This ship is capable of travelling through hyperspace.” He looked at her, then up at the third planet in the holographic display hanging above them. “We can reach this planet within hours…”

  “What will you do?” she asked, her tone hushed with dread.

  For an instant – no more – Cris gazed at the image of the bluish planet above them and tried to understand what she was so worried about. But he couldn’t think on that level anymore; all he cared about was how it felt to be there, in that place of Light. He faced her with a grim expression. “I will do what I must to achieve my goal, Lora, and nothing will stop me. If that means I have to destroy every planet in that system, then so be it.” He turned back away from her, returning to the console, and flicked a few manual switches. The Thunder’s engines roared to life.

  “Cris!”

  “Don’t worry, Lora,” he said again. “Everything will be okay. I’m going to kill the Asterite. If you intend to continue protecting me, you’ll have to come along.”

  Chen stared at him for a few moments, and he held her gaze. Was there still a chance that she could prevent this heinous transformation? Certainly, he still had some way to go. Despite his apparent lack of vital signs, the bloody tears, and his insane ramblings, he was still the man she knew, deep down. There was still that warmth, a goodness inside him she couldn’t describe, that meant he wasn’t lost to her completely. Her head tilted, hair loose and cascading across half her face, but hardly dimming the brightness of her determination. She would go with him, she decided. Maybe, just maybe, there would still be a way to create a new future for the both of them.

  “I have nothing to lose,” she said.

  Matching her determination, he waved a hand over the controls, and a few moments later, the Thunder roared up into the brown, cloudless sky.

  22

  Lorelei Chen lay awake in the cabin, with Cris soundly asleep at her side. Her left hand rested on his chest, still but for the rise-and-fall of his steady breathing. She found it curious, and disturbing, how it could be that this man breathed, yet had no pulse, no heartbeat. For no matter how hard she tried, she could detect no tactile arterial palpation of his heart, not from his carotid or radial arteries, or through his chest. It was as though he were a living corpse, being kept alive by some unnatural means… Like a magic she did not understand.

  What is happening to you Cris?

  She could think of no answer to that question.

  The image displayed on the far wall screen – which was intelligent and made of OLED plastic – showed the hyperspace tunnel ahead of the Thunder. The vessel was making good speed. She stared ahead into the swirled mix of tiny, multi-coloured light points racing past the ship; an explosion of vibrant colours, swathes of neon and luminous splendour, a kaleidoscope of chaotic, extradimensional magnificence. She just watched the drift of onward falling galaxies for a while, captivated by the fractal, tumbling beauty of it all, her mind filled with questions and doubts, before gradually falling into a dreamless sleep.

  Cristian Stefánsson looked at his freshly shaven face in the steel mirror in his cabin aboard the Thunder, examining his handiwork. Certainly, the shavin
g equipment here wasn’t anything like he was used to in the twenty-first century, a combination of chemical gels and laser depilation, but it was probably the closest shave he ever remembered having. Immaculate. He looked at his reflection, at his long face, the dark circles around his eyes, large cheekbones, prominent brow, and recessed forehead. He had a cold, chilling appearance, and for a strange moment he found himself difficult to behold.

  He shook the thought aside, straightened his clothing for the umpteenth time and left the cabin. It felt good to be dressed in normal clothes, after a long week inside his Rãvier unit. Whilst it was only a utilitarian one-piece garment, standard issue for humans travelling on bioships, it was a welcome change from the symbiotic alien body armour he’d grown accustomed to wearing over the past week. Refreshed, he walked towards the main bridge, his mind once again turning to his mission.

  The Asterite.

  The Asterite must be destroyed. Then, I will see my family again.

  He felt haunted by what he had experienced back on the dead world; seeing Alexis and Kimberley, in the Light, for as tiny and fleeting a moment as it was, had filled him with a sense of hope, joy and understanding. They were real, and they were there, right there, so close, so tantalisingly close, and yet, so far. He now knew that there was no such thing as death – his wife and daughter had only transformed, and now waited for him in the Light: the illusion that was his self, his sense of separation from the Light, was all that kept him from them now. He just needed to learn how to bridge that illusory gulf permanently. And the Eidolon had promised to teach him how, in exchange for this simple favour…