Fall of Icarus bod-2

by Jon Messenger

  If you want me to be there for you, we need to reevaluate our relationship.

  “I don’t want you here,” Keryn said softly, much of her fire burned out.

  Yes, you do, the Voice replied. You forget, I can see everything you think. You’re going after Cardax, which means you’re intentionally going to try to get yourself killed. You’re going to need me.

  There was a pause before Keryn replied as she tried to gather her thoughts. “What makes you think I’m going after Cardax?”

  Because I know you better than you know you. Because you’ve never failed at anything you’ve ever done. You’ve stumbled along the way, but you’ve always overcome every challenge. Because no matter how insulted you felt about the assignment when the High Council gave it to you, it is still your mission to complete. And, even if it kills you, you will get the information out of Cardax.

  “So just like that, we’re friends again?” Keryn chided.

  We’re not friends. We’re more of a… symbiotic relationship. What I need from you, I take. What you need from me, I give.

  Keryn felt the flare of anger again. “You make it sound like you have all the power, dispersing your well wishes whenever it suits you.”

  I told you we would have to reevaluate our relationship.

  Standing quickly from the pilot’s chair, Keryn turned toward the doorway leading into the rest of the ship. Though she couldn’t escape the Voice, she knew the Voice was aware of the metaphorical turning of her back. “You may have to be in my head, but that doesn’t mean I ever have to listen to you.”

  You are correct about that, the Voice calmly replied. You don’t have to listen to me. In fact, I’ll do my best to stay quiet. But I’m never going away again, no matter how much you want me gone. I’m going to become more a part of you than you could have ever fathomed before.

  Angrily, Keryn stormed out of the cockpit and made her way back to the medical bay. As the door slid open, the faces of the surviving team members turned toward her. After their fight against Cardax’s second ship, the entire team had been in the medical bay, checking on McLaughlin. Grimacing, Keryn looked each of the teammates in the face. She expected to see their condescension. And there was a look in their eyes, but it wasn’t accusatory. It was concern, both for McLaughlin and, unless she mistook their intent, for her as well.

  “How is he?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Cerise slid out of the way, her body no longer protecting the Pilgrim on the table. Keryn’s stomach twisted at the sight. A number of smaller shrapnel holes were being patched by the mechanical surgery arms that extended from the medical bed. His right arm had already been amputated, leaving a smoothly sheered stump where the strong arm had once been. She could see the strata of the bones and muscles, exposed to the ship’s recycled air. The burns on his face marred his once handsome looks. Much of his hair was burned away, leaving scarred and twisted flesh beneath. Though sedated, Keryn could still see the pained expression on his torn face.

  “Is he…” she began, before the words caught in her throat. “Is he going to make it?”

  Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. The wounds aren’t too severe. Though he won’t be the same man when the surgeries are done, none of his wounds alone should be enough to kill him.”

  “However?” Keryn asked, sensing there was something Adam wasn’t telling her. Judging from the saddened expression on Cerise’s face, Keryn guessed that everyone else already knew what Adam was going to say.

  “However, there’s more to his injuries than just the damage from the grenade. Look at this.”

  Adam turned the medical console toward Keryn so she could see the screen. The blue tinted screen showed a series of near transparent cells, tightly packed against one another and elongated. Muscle tissue, Keryn realized. She turned toward Adam inquisitively.

  “Just watch,” he said.

  As she turned back toward the screen, Keryn noticed invasive black cells, only a tenth the size of the muscle cells, sliding between the membranes. Almost as one, the black cells turned and punctured the outer membranes of the muscle cells. Keryn watched a fluid transfer occur between the cells as the black viruses deflated and died. The fluid, however, immediately began breaking down the structural integrity of the muscle cells. Within seconds, the majority of the muscle cells had ruptured, genetically degrading into a primordial soup.

  Keryn turned sharply toward Adam, her surprise evident on her face. “Were those…”

  “McLaughlin’s cells,” Adam finished. “They were a sample taken just minutes ago from his damaged arm. The grenade was lace with something; a biological agent that I can’t identify. Once it gets into a person’s system, it breaks down the body on a cellular level.”

  “You said this was from his arm,” Keryn replied hopefully. “Maybe we stopped its spread when we amputated his arm.”

  Cerise sobbed loudly from the other side of the room as Adam shook his head. “We did scans at random points throughout his body. Whatever this is, it’s aggressive. We’ve already found signs of it in his liver and kidneys.” Grabbing Keryn by the arm, Adam pulled her close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Listen, I can give him a regenerative cocktail of chemicals that will greatly slow the break down in his cells, but I am way out of my league with this. This is Terran biological technology. I wouldn’t even know where to start searching for a cure.”

  Keryn closed her eyes and frowned. “We may not know where to find a cure, but I know someone who might.”

  Without an explanation, Keryn left the medical bay and walked back to the cockpit. Closing the door behind her, she typed furiously on the console, entering a code that only she had been given. After only a moment’s hesitation, the screen turned from blue to a dark black with a bright red symbol emblazoned in its center. As the High Council’s emblem faded, it was replaced by a dimly lit council chamber. Around the semicircular table, six high-backed chairs rested, the seats for the six members of the shadowy Council. To her surprise, only a single robed figure was present.

  “Magistrate Riddell,” the Wyndgaart Councilmember stated flatly. “You have failed to capture Cardax. Why is it you call us now?”

  “I may not have captured Cardax yet, but I’m not giving up,” Keryn retorted. “But I need your help right now. One of my men was injured by a Terran biological weapon. It’s destabilizing his organs. There’s nothing I can do for him here, but I hoped that you might be able to provide us with a cure.”

  The Councilmember crossed his hands thoughtfully before him. “Were we in a different situation, I would gladly provide you with a cure for his disease.” Keryn grimaced at his tone and waited for the rest of his statement. “However, Pteraxis is not near any of our medical treatment facilities. It would be a long journey to get him the care he requires.”

  “That’s fine,” Keryn said, her heart pounding in her chest. “We can make a detour and drop him off, then get back on the trail of Cardax.”

  Keryn didn’t have to look at the screen to see the Wyndgaart shake his head. “I’m sorry, but if you made such a detour, you would lose Cardax’s trail forever. Your mission is too important to sacrifice for the well-being of a single soldier. Capture Cardax, then bring us your teammate for treatment. Not before.”

  Slamming her fist angrily on the console, Keryn replied defiantly. “To hell with my mission! We’re talking about the life of one of my men!”

  “Do you defy the will of the Council?” the Councilmember replied, his voice rising in irritation if not anger. “You would do well to remember your place, Magistrate. Bring us the information we seek from Cardax, then we will provide the best care possible for your man. Not before!”

  With a finality in his voice, the Councilmember ended the transmission, leaving Keryn staring at the bright red High Council symbol, which also soon faded from the screen. Clenching and unclenching her jaw, Keryn leaned back in the pilot’s chair. Though she may not agree with the High Council, she had no
options remaining other than to follow their directive. Whether to the Voice or now the High Council, once again she felt like the pawn of a higher power.

  Inputting new directives into the console, a faint vapor trail appeared on the radar. Though Cardax had a sizeable lead on the Cair Ilmun, his plasma exhaust trail was still visible and easy to follow. Setting a new course, Keryn set off in pursuit before putting the system on autopilot and moving back toward the medical bay.

  In the common room, she ran into Adam, who was coming up to see her. “What did your friends say?” he asked.

  Keryn shook her head. “They said that we had better find Cardax, and fast.”

  Adam shrugged. “So, what do we do?”

  Last time Adam had asked her that, she had hesitated. Her indecision had lost good men their lives and had irrevocably changed Keryn forever. This time, however, there was no hesitation in her response.

  “We’re going to find Cardax and I’m going to personally carve every bit of information we need out of his body.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Yen was completely consumed by the power. Lifting the stone monument from the ground had pushed him way beyond what even he had thought possible. The result had been like opening the Pandora’s Box of psychic energy and unleashing a hellish beast that opened its maw and swallowed him whole. Taking on a life of its own, Yen’s power roared through his veins and set his brain alight. The pain was nearly unbearable and brought tears to his eyes. Yet he didn’t fear his newfound power. Instead, he reveled in the freedom he felt, especially the freedom of knowing that he had evolved beyond that of his previous mortal limitations. The psychic power whispered to him, enticing Yen’s mind with thoughts of domination over all that would oppose him. Smiling malevolently, Yen knew that the whispers were less of a new sentient voice and more an outlet to his own subconscious. Despite the physical pain, he had never felt more alive… or more powerful.

  The power saturated his essence. Yen could feel it cascading like a waterfall through his body, igniting his nerves. His psychic energy filled him like a clay vessel until he was overflowing, yet still the power didn’t abate. Blue tendrils of power rolled over his body like bolts of lightning, emerging from his back before submerging into the skin of his shoulder. His eyes had taken on a dark, stormy color until nothing remained but the deep, flawless blue, like perfect orbs stolen from the heart of a storm cloud.

  Though the power was invigorating, it was also taxing. Yen’s breaths came in labored gasps and exhaustion spread through his limbs. Despite the weariness, he was driven forward by his own rage and anger, emotions from which the psychic power seemed to feed. And all his anger had a single target: the Terran doctor.

  Standing before the columned exterior of the Terran scientific headquarters, Yen tilted his head back so that he could see the broad, metal letters printed above the large doors. The words were a jumbled mess to Yen; the universal translator implanted behind his ear did little to translate the written Terran language. Still, he didn’t need to read the words to know what they meant. He had found what he was looking for. Behind those doors, Doctor Solomon hid in his laboratory. Yen could feel the Terran’s mind and taste his palpable fear in the air as though the doctor were standing directly before him.

  Alone, Yen strode to the doors. Pressing his palm against the cool wood, Yen could sense not only that the doors were firmly locked, but could also feel the presence of Terran soldiers hiding beyond. They thought themselves well protected behind their barricades and locked doors, but Yen knew better. There wasn’t a place on the entire planet where they would be able to hide from Yen, should he choose to chase them.

  Streams of blue energy flowed from his hand in all directions, some seeping through the narrow crack between the doors while others stretched outward, coating the edges of the wooden portal. Inside the building, the lock began to rattle as Yen’s power wrapped its tendrils around the metal bar they had thrown over both doors as a locking mechanism. Despite the metal bar’s incredible weight, Yen easily lifted it from its crook and dropped it onto the stone floor with a clatter. The measly deadbolt lock was also thrown aside, completely unlocking the door before the possessed psychic warrior.

  Instead of simply opening the door, Yen’s blue streams of power blew apart the metal hinges holding the massive doors in place. With a psychic thrust, the doors were lifted from the ground and launched into the room beyond. Their weight slammed into the defensive bunkers the Terran soldiers had erected, crushing many of the soldiers beneath their bulk. Stepping confidently into the room, Yen scanned the broken defenses of the Terran forces. A few members of the guard still survived, having dove to safety only seconds before the doors came crashing down on their positions.

  Still climbing to their feet, the Terrans were helpless as Yen strode forward, piercing blue tendrils of energy whipping around his body. Lashing out, the tendrils elongated into razor fine points. Bypassing the body armor as though it didn’t exist, the tendrils passed into the Terrans’ bodies before becoming corporeal. Trapped within their bodies, the tendrils slashed back and forth like caged animals, eviscerating the Terrans from within. Gurgling on their own blood, the soldiers were helpless as the psychic energy shredded lungs, perforated stomach lining, and pierced hearts. Within mere moments, the remaining Terran defenses were strewn dead on the floor.

  Yen closed his eyes and drank in the power that filled the room. The pungent scent of blood and death filled his nostrils and he took a deep breath. A sadistic smile passed across his lips as he stretched his arms outward, calling back his psychic pets. One by one, they withdrew from the Terran bodies and, snaking around, drove into Yen’s. Each tendril that passed back into him filled him with a greater sense of calm. But Yen could feel an uneasiness on the edge of his consciousness. The power reveled in its own might, but Yen wondered just how much control he truly had. Much of what it had done thus far was a result of his own broken psyche. Eventually, Yen feared that the power might deviate from his desires and begin pursuing its own course.

  Pushing such thoughts aside, Yen climbed the broad stairs that led to the building’s second floor. His booted feet clicked on the hard marble floors and behind him bloody footprints marked his path through the science hall. Ahead, drawing him forward like a moth to a fire, brain waves of Doctor Solomon called out to Yen from down the darkened corridors.

  “I’m coming,” Yen whispered into the darkness.

  Cresting the stairs, Yen found himself in a long hall. Closed doors confronted him on both sides of the hall, but Yen ignored them. They were little more than distractions, set there to lure Yen away from his true purpose. Fearlessly walking down the hall, Yen stepped between the narrow pools of light that were cast by the emergency lights set along his path. Casting only small circles of light, the rest of the hall remained enveloped in a cool and comforting darkness.

  Ahead, Yen could sense his prey hiding within a room at the end of the hall. Undaunted by the gloomy darkness around him, Yen walked purposefully forward. So intent was he on the room at the end of the hall that he noticed little else. Yen was caught completely off guard when he heard the safety being switched off on the machine gun to his left.

  “Move and I’ll kill you where you stand,” the Terran soldier said.

  From his periphery, Yen could see the green glow of the soldier’s night vision goggles. Focused as he was on Doctor Solomon, Yen hadn’t given a second thought to further Terran defenses around the doctor. Freezing in place, Yen sensed another Terran emerging from a doorway behind him.

  “Get down on your knees,” the first Terran ordered.

  The power bristled beneath the surface. The Terrans were making a huge mistake by ordering Yen around. No one had that power anymore.

  “Get down now!” the Terran reiterated, pushing the barrel of his machine gun against Yen’s shoulder. A round fired from that range would kill Yen instantly. Yen had no intention of allowing the Terran to take that shot.

&
nbsp; “I don’t think so,” Yen replied coldly. The energy welled inside of him and slithered from his skin like oil. Both Terrans were struck by the tendrils before they knew what had happened. The tendrils passed through the soldiers’ legs and wound up their spines before taking root within their brains. “In fact, I don’t like either of your tones. When speaking to a God, it would do well to remember your manners. So why don’t the two of you bow before me?”

  From the corner of his eyes, Yen could see the closest Terran’s body tense as he tried to fight the command. But with Yen’s tendril rooted within the soldier’s mind, he could do little other than obey. Turning around finally, Yen looked at both the Terrans, kneeling in protested reverence. Feeling their overwhelming hatred, Yen frowned. Before he realized what he was saying, Yen felt his lips moving of their own volition.

  “Neither of you are worthy to worship me. You’d both be a much better sacrifice in my honor. Go ahead and kill yourselves.”

  Their hands shaking, both Terrans turned their weapons upward before cramming them under their chins, the barrels pointing toward their brains. Yen watched as their fingers hesitated on the triggers.

  “I don’t have all day,” he said coolly.

  The echoing gunshots followed Yen as he turned and walked down the hall. A few feet beyond the two Terran bodies, the reality of his actions slammed into Yen. Doubling over, he felt hot bile spill from his throat as he vomited onto the floor. The pain behind his eyes grew unbearable as it felt like he was burning from within. Hot, salty tears spilled down his face as he dry heaved onto the ground.

  Fear finally gripped Yen’s heart. Lifting the monument had been too much for his body to withstand. Now, having pushed his power beyond its limit, he no longer had control. Unwittingly, he had ordered a pair of Terrans to take their own life and, more importantly, they had so willingly obeyed. The thought sickened Yen as it frightened him. If he could so dispassionately order the deaths of the Terran soldiers, what else was he capable of?