It's Always Darkest

by Justin Bell

  "Come with me, Brie Northstar. We have much to discuss."

  He turns and walks out, and I follow him, painfully aware of the caravan of resistance members tagging along close behind, walking in a stiff single-file as if escorting me to my own execution.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Moving with the crowd, we leave the small building and navigate the walkway to the temple in the center of the city, the familiar capital building. We walk together through the sliding door and down the narrow, dimly lit corridors at a moderate pace.

  I am fine until I see the red light.

  My last face to face meeting with Command is still fresh in my mind, yet the dimly lit hallways and the cool metal clanging underneath my feet feel like any other normal walk until we hit that final hallway and the warm, throbbing red glow of the heat lights ebbs out into the hall. Two Bragdon guards stand at each side of the door with their ceremonial, bladed staffs pointing straight and tall.

  My breath catches. I slow my pace and then halt in the middle of the corridor. Drewsk glances back at me.

  "Brie?"

  I can't breathe for a moment as my chest tightens. My eyes blink against the red hue of the room as my mind is filled with his image: tall and narrow with an angular face, head crowned with ridges of pale bone, eyes flat and crimson, skin a mottled gray, and spine punched through with knotted cartilage. I don't want to see him again.

  He doesn't scare me. It's not that simple. There's something profoundly disturbing about him, something about his mere presence that shifts the boundaries of my reality just enough to freak me out. Knowing now what I learned from Rorjak, I can already picture him at my puppet strings, controlling my every movement, my every opportunity, and my every emotion. He's been behind it all.

  By reflex I lift my hand to touch the cool metal of the charm connected to my necklace. It calms me a bit.

  But just a bit.

  "It's all right," Drewsk says, reaching a hand out to me. I don't take it.

  "This is far from all right."

  He lowers his hand and grimaces at me with his eyes narrowing into sharp darts. Loren grabs my arm and leads me into the room, Drewsk, Kleethak, Luxen, and Shrag follow close behind. The warmth is like a solid wall. The dry heat bakes the moisture off my skin the moment we cross the threshold.

  Command is standing there as he always does with his back rigid and his spine spurs thrust outward, threatening to tear through his dress uniform. Ornate, bent bones at his shoulder do tear through, emerging out from his flesh like decorative armor. He turns and glances over his shoulder. His red eyes reflect the low light and his bone crown appears to be cast of dried blood.

  "Welcome back," he hisses.

  "I don't feel especially welcomed."

  He turns fully and takes several strides towards me, his long legs covering the distance quickly.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. I've wished nothing but success and good fortune for you."

  "Especially when you were hoping I'd kill for you."

  He lowers his gaze briefly, clenching both fists. I see him draw some deep, even breaths, stiffen his muscles, and look back up at me with his mouth formed into a narrow grimace.

  "Must we dance this dance every time? We are on the same side."

  "You might be surprised."

  As I watch, his body relaxes and softens and he comes closer to me, extending his hand. Even though I don't accept it he moves it closer and places his palm on my shoulder to lead me towards the semi-circular computer consoles near the center of the room.

  "The entire quadrant is on the brink of destruction, child," he whispers as we walk. "Drastic measures must be undertaken."

  "I agree completely."

  Waving his hand, the monitor screens flash on, revealing more of the same chaotic space battle I witnessed when I was up in the battle cruiser so long ago. I never would have thought it was possible, but even more shattered and broken wreckage floats in space, creating a backlog of scrap metal and flotsam, enough to cause havoc to anyone thinking of passing through this sector of space.

  "Within months, maybe less, Athelon's atmosphere will be nearly impassable. I suspect Reblox will suffer the same fate. If that happens, trade and exchange between the two planets will cease to exist and both civilizations will swiftly descend into chaos."

  "And Braxis will be completely screwed."

  "What do you mean by that, child?"

  "If Reblox and Athelon are land-locked, you won't have access to resources from either of them. Your civilization will perish."

  "So you understand the seriousness of the situation."

  "I do."

  "So you will help us?"

  "I will. Should I deliver your articles of surrender directly to Athelon High Council?"

  His hand flies up and around even more quickly than I can follow, slamming against the side of my face with the impact of a barreling hover bike. My head whips around, spinning my entire body and throwing me off balance. Stumbling, I crash into a nearby console, slumping over it. A radiating, painful heat ebbs from my skull in an even, pulse-accented rhythm.

  "Hey!" comes a scream from not too far away. I think it's Luxen.

  I hold up a hand as I push myself upright, shaking the star bursts from my eyes.

  "I apologize," he says, helping me stand upright. "That was uncalled for."

  I turn towards him with my eyes narrowed. "Try it again and I'll break your arm."

  To his credit, Command doesn't laugh out loud, but he does smirk, a confident, cocky twist of his lipless mouth.

  "Brie, let me tell you a little bit about your place in our little world." He gestures towards an empty seat. I move myself to it and ease down as my eyes settle on the group of my former comrades who stand several yards away. Luxen has taken several steps towards us with his fists clenched, but Drewsk holds him back.

  "Oh, please illuminate me," I respond.

  "You are very loyal to Athelon, a fact that is truly admirable, especially considering the way they treated you."

  "I was raised on Athelon," I reply. "By an Athelonian mother who, by all rights, should have disposed of me shortly after birth. She sacrificed everything for me." I touch the charm around my neck and fight back tears.

  "But you see," Command says, "you were not her child. You never were."

  I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. My face settles into my own confident, quirky smile that begs him to tell me everything I need to know.

  He stops talking, looking at my face, studying me.

  "You know, don't you?" he finally asks. "You know who you really are?"

  "You mean what I really am? Yes, yes, I know."

  "Yet, still you fight against your Bragdon heritage? Still you would side with Athelon over your birthright?"

  I push myself up from my chair. "Hmmm...let me think. Do I side with a race of people who raised me to be their own in spite of my obvious genetic anomalies...or do I side with a race of people who buried a computer chip in my brain and programmed me to kill the people I love? It's a tough call, Command, I have to admit."

  "Insolent brat!" he screams and swings another hand. I slide swiftly out of the way, catch his streaking wrist, and hold it firmly in mid-air.

  "I made you a promise," I say quietly.

  My other hand shoots up to wrap around his upper arm, and I torque my waist and twist, waiting for the sound of snapping bone. It never comes. He sets his feet to counter-balances my swivel with his own, pulls me off my feet over his hip, and slams me down onto the metal stairs leading from the communications platform.

  "You have confidence," he says to me, nodding slightly as he glares down at me, bent over the stairs on the ground. I hurt from the back of my head all the way down to my legs, but I don't show it. I roll over, push myself to my knees, then stand, dusting off my legs and arms.

  "Nice move," I say, managing to keep my voice from trembling even though my entire body is racked with agony.

  "So
you know what you are and how you earned those powers. You know that the Child of the Stars myth is just that. A myth?"

  I shrug my shoulders. "Someone told me once something is only as true as those who believe in it. I've run into plenty of Athelonians, Bragdons, and Reblons who believe in it. Who believe in a child, a girl, who is made up of all three different races and is destined to end the conflict and save the quadrant."

  He sneers angrily at me.

  "I may not be sent from the heavens, but I have the genetic material of all three planets in my body. I have the essence of all three planets coursing through me, and I will end this war. I will end this war over your dead body."

  This time Command does laugh. He throws his head back and howls, a horrible, crackling, gravellly bellow. It goes on for longer than I thought possible, then he lowers his head again and sneers at me.

  "And how will you stop me without your precious little powers, my dear? What then?"

  I think back to my conversation with Rorjak and his claim that my power comes from the secret energy source that courses through Braxis. An energy source honed and controlled by the clerics and elders. I let my eyes slip to Kleethak. Not on purpose, but just by instinct they drift just enough and lock on his robed form, then shoot away as if embarrassed to be caught looking.

  Command follows their gaze. "Well, you are well informed, aren't you?"

  We glare at each other.

  "But did you also know that Kleethak only supplied you with the power you required at my own request? Did you know that Kleethak has been working for me the entire time? Reporting on your every move? Controlling precisely how much power you have and don't have at every waking moment? He's not your friend, Northstar. He never has been."

  And that's when I remember that warm feeling from the Scaleback cleric and how familiar it had been. Nearly every time Kleethak laid his hand on me I felt that exact same sense of warmth and recharge, as if my power cells were refueling. This whole time he was doing it at the whim of this monster.

  It's too much. With every hard lesson I learn, I withstand it, I file it away, and I shut the drawer and move on. But, Mother save me, the drawer is getting full, I'm running out of room to store it, and Kleethak is standing right there, next to Luxen who is turning to look at him as if his betrayal is just as bad as mine.

  Moving without thought, I leap over the console into a graceful vault, hit the ground, and charge forward. Luxen breaks away while Kleethak back-pedals, glancing around to see where he can possibly go to escape.

  Launching my first attack, I leap forward, thrusting out my leg, but Kleethak slips away from it, then dodges my next attack, a second spinning kick, this time to his legs. He moves swiftly. His robe whips as if its a ghost, and his limbs within become intangible phantoms. I swing a fist that hits air, swivel, and swing a punch that he ducks under. I follow that up with three rapid kicks, left, right, left. He moves in counterpoint as if we are dance partners, then leaps over me with a graceful forward dive, hitting the ground behind me in a somersault.

  As he comes up, I'm already leaping again, pressing into his shoulders to pin him down to the metal floor, chest first. His body strikes with a resounding, metal echo. Loren charges from my right, swinging twice. I dodge both, then kick out, hitting her in the chest and sending her stumbling backwards. Shrag tackles me from the front, knocks me off of Kleethak, and slams my back into the metal floor, but I thrust my leg up to toss him off and over, sprawling away. Drewsk is next, crashing both right fists into my left side. I absorb the blows, set my foot and launch back, kicking him with my left, then swinging around with my right foot and barreling it into his chin, sending him cartwheeling.

  "Brie, don't!"

  I swing towards the voice and lash out. My fist slamming and sending him stumbling.

  Luxen glares at me from empty, hurt eyes with his hand to his chin, where a thin trickle of dark blood crawls down over his knuckle.

  "Brie, you must understand," Kleethak says, back upright and moving towards me. "This was all for the good of Braxis. All of it."

  I clutch the loose cloth of Kleethak's robe and lift him up, close to my face, tightening the fabric around his neck.

  "At what cost, Kleethak? How many have died?"

  "Brie—"

  "How many!" I can feel my fingers weaving between the cloak and his neck to pull it dangerously tight. His arm goes rigid, his fingers grasp for me, but grip empty air. My arm muscles ache with the squeezing, but I clench tighter, pulling the fabric into a straight, taught bunch.

  "Enough!" Command is there, right behind me, over me, on top of me, and another slamming crash sends me tumbling to the floor. My fingers spring apart, releasing the hold on Kleethak's robe. He stumbles backwards with his arms pinwheeling as he crashes back onto the floor with a groan.

  Command reaches down and wraps his long fingers around my throat, then lifts me up off the floor with my feet dangling above the metal grate. I can feel his jagged nails digging into the raw flesh of my leathery throat and my air coming in quick, uneven rasps.

  Out of the corner of my eye Kleethak pulls himself upright, glaring at me.

  "What do you think you are going to accomplish?" Command sneers. "Besides dying right here and right now, for nothing...for no one. ...Dying with nothing. ...With no one. ...A broken pile of genetic waste."

  Tears broil at the corners of my eyes and start spilling over, streaming down my cheeks as I struggle for breath.

  "The Child of the Stars," he hisses. "You will die broken and alone and accomplish nothing. Prepare to embrace the darkness."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Somehow I'm still breathing, but just barely. Command's long, bony fingers tighten around my throat, closing my windpipe. My arms thrash as my hands scramble for some kind of purchase. The fingers on my right hand lock onto the bony protrusion of his left shoulder, pulling out of sheer desperation as lights dance in my eyes and the entire room dims.

  "Command, don't do anything rash," Kleethak says, advancing on us. He's a robed, dark blur, throbbing in and out. My head screams for lack of air.

  Command glares over at him. "She just attacked you," he hisses. "She would be happy to see you dead!"

  Kleethak almost looks momentarily humbled by the comments, his head lowering for a brief moment, but then bolting back upright.

  "We have to consider what's right for Braxis. She can facilitate discussions with Athelon. We still need her!"

  "Seems to me she might rather die than help us. I think I should make that decision far easier for her."

  "Command, don't!"

  I can feel his grip tighten as his arm lifts higher and my legs dangle above the ground. I move my hand from his shoulder to his forearm, clutching it tightly, hoping to break his grasp, but it's not budging. My breathing has officially stopped. The pressure is building in my head and against my eyes as I struggle to stay conscious. The world swims to a mix of red-hued blackness as the heat lamp color spins into a blurred tornado of color.

  Kleethak comes from nowhere. The impact strikes me on my left side, crashing into my shoulder and Command's forearm all at once. The long fingers blessedly spring apart, releasing my throat. Air gasps back into my lungs as I fly free of his hold, toppling through the air, finally slamming shoulder-first onto the metal floor. Pain laces my entire body as I strike. The metal clang echoes throughout the command center, and Kleethak is on top of me with his arms wrapped around me, trying to break my fall. He is rolling with me across the floor with his legs splaying up and about as he does.

  As we come to a swift stop, both of us smack hard against the raised console. His tightly wrapped arms are radiating heat, so much heat.

  I pry my eyes open to look at the cloaked figure draped over me. I see a vague purple energy floating from his skin underneath the loose fabric of his cloak. It is rising like colored steam and dissipating into the dim, red air. My entire body feels like a slab of roasting meat, except that my fully baked corpse, feels
calm and warm as if tucked into a thick blanket.

  "Stay down!" he shouts to me, looking down from on top of me with his arms still wrapped tightly.

  "What did you do?" screams Command with his eyes large and his teeth bared at the Bragdon Elder who knocked me away.

  "You're letting your personal feelings get in the way!" Kleethak shouts back at him. "She is a critical piece of our plan!"

  Command lunges forward, reaches out, and grasps Kleethak by the throat, yanking him up off me in a vicious sweep of motion that swirls the elder's cloak out around him.

  "It's not 'our plan'. Not any more!" Command hisses. He reaches up with his other hand. My eyes go wide as he torques his shoulders, twisting violently. There's a loud, swift snap as Kleethak's head jerks brutally to one side. The purple light radiating from him blinks off as if at the flip of a switch, and his limbs go slack. Command flicks his arm to the right, tossing the slack, motionless form of Kleethak end over end to slam against the platform in the center of the room where he hits the ground and lies still.

  My mouth is dry and I can't speak. A cough causes my raw, painful throat to burn. All I can do is look at the slump of cloth and bone that used to be Kleethak, the Bragdon Elder who had saved my life on that moon so long ago.

  He also betrayed me. His secretly working for Command the whole time should write him off to me, but it doesn't. I can't just write him off. He saved my life for the second time today, though as Command whips his head back towards me and takes a long stride in my direction, I wonder for how long.

  "Your neck is next!" he shouts at me. My eyes dart over towards the rest of the resistance members to see Luxen struggling to free himself from Drewsk and Shrag's grasp. It looks as if tears are streaming down his face as he struggles against the clutches of his would-be friends. Kleethak may have been my friend, but he was like a father to Luxen and the pained look in his eyes is almost more hurtful to me than Kleethak's actual death.

  Command takes another long stride towards me, reaching around his back,to retrieve a curved ceremonial knife with a long, twisted handle and a razor sharp crescent blade.