The Veil Rising

by Brandon Ellis

  All the same, he'd groan, get up and hobble to the room with the pods, open the door and duck inside of one. He'd lie down or sit, and was always bored to tears during the process because there was never anything to do in them except stare at the walls of the pod. But, this time he brought some papers to read—the documents he'd stolen from Zim's office.

  However, this too, proved boring.

  Laying on his side, he yawned and rubbed his eyes as he kept reading through pages of data, flight schedules, and daily ebb quantity charts that were so mundane that he had to fight the urge to fall asleep, but he had to keep going. There was something in them worth the read, at least that's what Devon had told him.

  He pulled his eyes away from the document to look at an old elbow injury, always impressed by how well it had healed. He'd fractured it while playing in one of the Guild Games—a time in his life when he thought he'd be a hotshot pilot. But, another hotshot had slammed him to the ground in a wrestling match and he remembered how severely it had hurt. He'd resisted using the Suficell Pods as long as possible, thinking he could manage his pain through willpower until he couldn't take it anymore and he used the pods. It had taken only one day of sheer, never ending, absolute boredom to heal.

  It was just a day, Chase. Get over it. This time around he'd been in the pods off and on for two days while observing the healing process occurring within his body. Boring, yet another pod miracle in action.

  He felt the comfortable, squishy gel moving around inside of the black pad he was lying on and it was exuding the familiar lavender aroma that was calming. He looked around the circular enclosure of his pod, observing the dozens of wires that originated from a metallic box hanging in the center of the ceiling. From there, the wires traveled down the walls and into the perimeter of the black pad that generated the healing sound frequencies and vibrations.

  The digital display on the metallic box suddenly lit up with three numbers, 438—the designated healing frequency for his body—tissue repair. He saw 5 minutes blink on the box's screen. Good. Almost done.

  He scratched the back of his head, wondering if they could find a frequency to neutralize the poison about to be unleashed onto the population. But, no one seemed familiar with that particular toxin, so there was nothing they could experiment with to formulate the frequency.

  He looked at his leg, happy to see nothing injured about it now, and suddenly thought of Nyx. Then his heart sank.

  She saved my life.

  He had just met her, felt an attraction he'd never experienced before, or even dreamed possible, then lost her. He didn't know if she was dead or hiding somewhere on the starbase and he had to know if she was still alive. And, if so, he'd make it his mission to find her and propose marriage to her, perhaps on the misty Balcony of Enchantment that overlooked a soft flowing waterfall that cascaded down a set of layered rocks.

  Then he shook his head, feeling foolish. Who was he kidding? They'd just met.

  He turned to lie on his side and heard papers crunching. The documents.

  He pushed a swatch of black hair out of his eyes and skimmed the papers until he came to another particularly tedious section—how to place ebb rock into hover carts. Woo hoo! he thought, rolling his eyes and preparing himself for the dullest of reads, wondering why he was punishing himself in this way, but then he saw the words Lumus II. He pursed his lips. He'd never heard of Lumus II, but according to these documents all of the ebb was transferred to that destination before transportation to Star Guild supply.

  Where in Guild's name is Lumus II?

  Skimming down, his eyes widened. “Past the radiation zone?!” he had spoken out loud, shocked that such a place could exist beyond an area so hazardous and fatally unsafe. No one could survive in the radiation zone, so everyone stayed away from it. The stories he'd read in history books and what he was told in biology class about people crossing that zone were horrendous. He remembered the images of some poor Mechies who had accidentally walked their Mechs into the zone, all of which were horribly disfigured and mutated, and had obviously died a grizzly death. He was told that it happened fast, and any chance of getting into a Suficell Pod soon enough to cure them was impossible.

  Unless, he thought, those pictures were faked, just like everything else had been. He released a pissed off shrug. He didn't know what was real and what wasn't...not anymore.

  Reading further, it said that the purpose of Lumus II was threefold. First, after the ebb was delivered, it was stripped of two minerals known as gold and crystal. Secondly, the gold and crystal was transported off planet, but to where the documents didn't say. And thirdly, Lumus II was the home of Zim's superiors, although the documents didn't state any names, ranks, or purpose for them. Why Zim had any need for superiors he did not know, and just assumed that Zim was a puppet, nothing more.

  A sound beeped in the Suficell Pod. Chase glanced up to see the pod's HDC blinking 1 minute, so he kept reading.

  “Mono-atomic gold,” he read aloud. What the heck is that?

  The documents described a short process of heating the gold to a super temperature that transformed it into ash, creating a mono-atomic element called mono-atomic white gold powder. After that, it was sent on its way to an unmentioned destination.

  Maybe Devon knows what that element is?

  Another beep sounded before it suddenly turned off. He yawned and stretched his arms.

  I feel good.

  With mock regret, he addressed the metallic box by saying, “You're my miracle worker, but this is our last session.” He hoped he was right about that as he hunched over, moved out of the Suficell Pod slowly, and stood up feeling dizzy.

  The room he was standing in looked like a chemistry classroom because of the counters and sinks lining the walls. He paused, appreciating the light of the biosphere filtering through a window, but then felt groggy all of a sudden. Then his stomach began to ache.

  Why am I so tired and why do I suddenly ache?

  It had been a long day of explosions and phaser blasts and all, but he didn't remember walking into the pod feeling so weary and shaky, and this had never happened when he'd used the pods before. Then he looked down at his legs and they were wobbling. What's going on with me?

  He took a couple of shaky steps forward and bent over, cringing from a pain in his gut. A second later his stomach relaxed, but then he experienced a wave of nausea. He moaned and placed his hand on a counter top to inch his way over to a sink. Pushing aside a glass of water that he was supposed to drink after his pod session, he bent over and vomited into the sink.

  “Ack!” he yelped through slobber, wondering why he was so sick and why so suddenly. Then another stabbing pain made his abdomen spasm violently as he instinctively yelled for help.

  There was no one within ear shot, but his stomach spasms slowly subsided. He straightened up, noticing that he had somehow held onto the documents throughout his painful ordeal. Stepping forward, he thought he'd go for help, but his eyes were getting blurry. He rubbed them, thinking his lack of sleep could be causing the blurriness, but when his eyes wouldn't clear up and his legs wouldn't stop shaking, he knew his dilemma wasn't the typical go-to-bed-and-get-some-rest kind of problem.

  Shaking his head, he managed to creep to the door and type a code into the pad. The door opened and he walked out of the room bent over, feeling so nauseous that he wished he could throw up again. He raised his hand until it found a wall, then leaned against it for support. He slid down the wall, clutching his stomach and dropping the papers without a care.

  “Chase?”

  He raised his head to see a blurry version of Devon running toward him. Weakly, he raised his hand to wave for help, then noticed that a woman wearing a hood was with Devon and she was somehow glowing brighter as she approached.

  How is she doing that?

  Then he felt warm hands touch him and he closed his eyes, feeling a warm sensation passing through him, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He clenched his hands in
to a fist as pain traveled from his stomach to his chest, then to his head, causing a piercing headache. An instant later, the headache pain released its grip and disappeared as if it had never existed. Then heat encapsulated his hands and feet, making him perspire.

  His breath slowed, approaching normalcy. His head stopped spinning and his vision began to clear, allowing him to see the hooded woman wearing a worried expression as she crouched next to him. The better he felt, the more the heat dissipated. He raised his head to see that her hands must have been on his shoulders throughout the entire process.

  “You'll be fine, Overseer Byrd.”

  Chase slowly moved to get up but hesitated, expecting the nausea to reoccur, but it didn't.

  “Good,” she said. “That dissipates the negative energy. Just wipe it off until you feel that it's gone.”

  He thought her instructions were strange, but did so, not because he knew what she was talking about, but because he couldn't stop himself. He had to get that gunky feeling off him. When he was finally finished, he stared at Devon for a moment, then at the woman.

  He asked, “What happened?” Then he noticed a small black and white dog with long hair standing next to the woman's feet, observing everything.

  The woman followed his gaze and said, “That's MiMi. She's harmless.”

  Chase nodded, smiling at the little dog and wanting to hold it, imagining that everyone must feel that way around the cute little dog because it had...charisma. Then he commented, “I felt like I was going to die.”

  Devon shrugged his shoulders, confusion spattering across his face. “I know, man. You looked like you were going to die on me and there's been enough lately to last a lifetime, so don't do that anymore, okay?”

  “You were poisoned,” said the woman. She slid her hood off, exposing hair so blond that it looked almost like yellow light flowing over her shoulders and down her back.

  Chase looked around, feeling strangely good, then asked, “Poisoned? By who?”

  The oddly beautiful woman replied, “By you.”

  Chase pointed to his chest. “Me?”

  “The energy I lifted from you was full of toxic run-off from your own body. You were detoxing, and from what I gathered from the energy around you, you've been detoxing for several days. That would suggest that you've been in the Suficell Pods quite a bit, probably more than you needed to be. I understand your hurry to heal, but how much have you and your doctors been monitoring your water intake?”

  Chase looked away. “Um...my energy? What do you...” He covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed. First the attack, then almost being assassinated, and now people looking at energy coming off his body? He thought for a moment, then dropped his hands, getting back to the woman's question. “I don't like water, so I guess I didn't really drink much.”

  She wagged her finger at him. “You and your doctors should know that when you enter a Suficell Pod, the die-off from the diseased cells and tissue repair is abundant, and needs to be eliminated from the body during the process and when you exit the pod. If it isn't flushed, then that alone can make you ill as your organs absorb it. From now on, drink a glass of water before you enter a pod, and bring a glass into the pod with you. Then drink several glasses once you've exited the pod to flush your organs, okay?”

  Chase gratefully placed his hand on the woman's shoulder and said, “I don't know what you just did to me, but you may have just saved my life and I thank you for that. And, in the future, I will most definitely follow your instructions.”

  The woman laughed and said, “You weren't dying, my friend. Until you've slept in your own urine for at least three days, retched for four, and experienced debilitating pain for five, you won't know what it's like to feel like you're really dying.”

  “Well, then thank you for helping me.” Chase extended his hand for a handshake, but Naveya brushed it aside and pulled him in for a warm hug, wrapping her arms around him as Chase noted that she was much stronger than she looked. She released him from the embrace, took a step back and bowed her head as she formally introduced herself. “My name is Naveya.” Then, with a smile, she turned on her heel and walked away with her little dog trotting alongside of her as she called over her shoulder, “Shall we proceed?”

  Devon gave Chase a blank look, then called back, “To where?”

  Naveya replied, “Chase was about to visit his uncle, were you not?” Chase called back, “Uh, yes, I was,” and hurriedly bent over to gather up his papers to catch up with Naveya, but they were gone and a sense of panic swept through him.

  Without looking back, Naveya echoed from a distance, “Don't worry, I have them.” She waved his papers in the air and shouted, “Let's get going!” Her little dog, MiMi let out a crisp bark as she happily danced her way alongside of Naveya. Chase ran to catch up, wondering, What kind of a woman IS that?!

  When they reached the admiral's make-shift quarters, Admiral Byrd was sitting in a chair, staring through a window at a river flowing toward the agricultural sector. They were in the Political Infirmary and the admiral was stroking a stubble of thick growth on his chin. It looked as though it'd been days since he'd slept, let alone taken a shower.

  “Uncle James?” Chase inquired as he knocked on the frame of the open doorway. He wasn't the greatest at protocol when it came to saluting or addressing a superior officer, especially when it was a relative.

  The admiral dropped his fingers from his chin and stared, as if startled to see someone standing in the doorway and it was easy for Chase to see that recent events had taken their toll on his uncle. He looked terrible.

  “Chase,” said Admiral Byrd, his voice sounding like a hollow echo compared to the resonant tenor of his previous self. Then he paused, observing his nephew's companions. He nodded to Devon, eyed Naveya, and toughened up. “Who might you be?”

  For the first time, Chase saw the stress in his uncle's eyes and it seemed strange to him. His uncle had always been strong and robust, never displaying any sign of weakness, yet now his eyes were sunken and he looked exhausted.

  “This is Naveya,” replied Chase.

  “What can I do for you?” asked the admiral.

  “She has the antidote,” responded Devon with a proud smile.

  Admiral Byrd waved them into the room as if he hadn't heard the incredible news. “Come in, come in. Take a—” He noticed there wasn't an extra seat, so he stood up and pulled his chair around his desk and slid it forward for Naveya, who responded by sitting and providing the admiral with a gracious bow of her head. “Thank you, Admiral.”

  “Can I get you all something to drink?” he asked while moving to a faucet in the corner of the room, appearing drunk tired with each step. Not waiting for an answer, he turned on the faucet and started to fill several empty cups.

  “Admiral,” said Naveya, but then she paused because her little dog was struggling its way out of her robe to sit on her lap. Naveya got MiMi situated and scratched her ears, then continued. “I have the antidote. I trust this is good news, Admiral?”

  Admiral Byrd cleared his throat and scooped up three water cups, carrying them across the room in a manner that would suggest he'd been a server in a restaurant. He handed them each a cup of water, and then moved behind his desk to lean against the window. “Don't be too shocked if I'm not overjoyed. It's been a long week, and until I see an actual antidote, let alone witness it working, I won't become too ecstatic.” Then he sighed. “And, suppose you do have the antidote. How do we administer it to 700,000 inhabitants?”

  “Devon will figure that out,” replied Naveya.

  Devon shot Naveya a sharp look. “I will?”

  “Yes, I've been told such,” she replied.

  “By who?” Devon's heart raced as he started to panic. He didn't know how he could get the antidote to anyone outside of the biosphere, especially with guards blocking each exit.

  Naveya calmly placed her hand on Devon's forearm and looked into his eyes. “You will succeed.”

&
nbsp; “Okay. Who are you and how do you know about the poison?” interrupted Admiral Byrd.

  “I'm on your side, Admiral.” Naveya reached into her robe, retrieving the kill-off documents she'd found on Savanna Levens' body, and laid them on the admiral's desk.

  The admiral picked them up, flipped through them, then dropped them to the desk.

  “How did you get this?” he questioned, his tone suspicious.

  Naveya pulled out another set of papers and handed them to Chase. They were titled “Ebb Quarries” and he remembered that Naveya had picked them up after he'd dropped them in the hallway. He gave her a nod, then Naveya pulled out another item—Savanna's ID card.

  “I found this on Savanna Levens' body.” Sadness appeared on her face as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. “I'm afraid she didn't make it, Admiral.”

  Devon gasped and Chase snatched the ID card from Naveya's hand, not completely accepting what the woman had just stated. He eyed Savanna's picture as MiMi barked at him because of his quick movement toward Naveya. Naveya quieted her, then looked at Admiral Byrd with tenderness and sorrow in her eyes.

  Admiral Byrd clenched his teeth and stared at his desk as silence filled the room. Slowly shaking his head back and forth, he leaned forward and placed his hands on the desktop, then hunched over, with hanging head.

  After a few moments, he raised his bloodshot eyes to search Naveya's face as he demanded, “What?”

  “Uncle, she—”

  The admiral slammed a fist down on his desk. “I know what she said, Chase!”

  Then the admiral observed Devon, who had been quietly listening the entire time, slowly backing out of the room, no longer engrossed by the conversation. Admiral Byrd didn't stop him, experiencing compassion for the young man. He knew that Devon's hero, friend, and champion of all that was good in politics was dead and felt the loss much like the admiral—perhaps even more so.

  Devon exited the office and headed down the hallway, looking for a place to hide, to cry. So much had happened and now he thought of his family. His sister, his mother and father—were they safe? Would he ever see them again? Were they even alive? He found a closet door, opened it and walked inside, closing the door behind him. It was dark and quiet. Here, he could weep.