Ghosts of Lyarra

by Damian Shishkin

  Aen felt her hands fall from his, but in reality it was that she slowly faded from her physical form as a ghost fades from sight of a loved one. Her time was up, and her smile warmed his heart as she was gone like the morning mist. Aen stood alone on the beach with the tide lapping at his feet. His memories swirled about his mind as for once he was whole; mind and body healed as one. Then it was his turn to fade from the shores of Nammaran and return to his body light years away on Earth. He felt the rush as he was flung back into his body and his lungs gasped for air the instant he arrived. It was more of a reaction than a need, but it was enough to rattle his companion who had been cradling his lifeless body for some time now.

  “I thought I lost you again.” Iana said, pulling him back from the nightmare and back to the present.

  “I am whole again,” he whispered, “but I am now as broken as ever.”

  A quick look around, told him he was lying on his back with his head in her hands. The walls that were white in his memory became grey and peeling once more. The glass he had propped his hand against was shattered and smelled of mold. He felt the air change from busy and sterile to dead and musty. Aen was back in the here and now and felt Iana’s arms around him as she desperately held on to him.

  “It happened here.”

  “I know.” She replied softly.

  “They took everything from me here.” Aen muttered his eyes darting around the room. “This is where we both died.”

  —

  Iana watched in silence as her companion suffered with every new room. It wasn’t her place to interfere, so she remained there for emotional support and glad she could be part of his self-discovery. For too long, Aen had been nothing more than a ghost of what he should be; an emotionless machine of pure power. It made her feel more helpless than she had as of late; even before Aen’s epic ‘death’ he had been a bit of an enigma. For most of her life, she had been able to shape other’s emotions to help them along; manipulate others to not only decide their needs but to keep them from more suffering than possible.

  But here, she was helpless as she could see Aen’s steel resolve dissolving in the mire that was his past. The ghosts that had plagued his forgotten memory were making themselves known now; in his own personal hell, Aen was being assaulted from an unstoppable force. Yet it wasn’t her place to intervene, so she simply followed him about. From the broken entrance way to the building, to the empty and musty office, to the horrid and ghastly medical wing, she watched him suffer inside as his memories toyed with him in flashes before disappearing again.

  Then she got distracted; the sight of the specimen tank froze her in her place. Here before her lay the instrument in which the humans had imprisoned Ameia and it couldn’t be a more appalling sight. It was broken and partially melted with shards of shattered glass floating in the murky liquid inside, but none the less it was still no more than a coffin for the living. Iana was enraged that such horrors had been inflicted on one of her children, but her anger lessened as she remembered that Aen had enacted more than sufficient revenge on all those involved.

  Iana snapped out of her thoughts, and quickly began to search for Aen. As she had been transfixed on this tragic picture, he had wandered off. Frantically she began to search with her eyes, ears and mind for Aen, and it was his scream of agony that alerted her to where he had gone.

  The instant he screamed, her mind connected with his and she was transported to the past where all that had faded and faltered was new and began to witness the horrors she had only read about in reports. She saw what he saw; the men leering down from their room of safety, the doctors scurrying about to make sure the subject was alive and stable. She felt the rush of a foreign substance fill her veins and felt the emotional voice of Ameia begin to calm her progeny. All his pain, all his agony, and all of his emotion rolled in her; Iana was quickly overwhelmed by the events and began to try and separate the link that joined their minds. There was always an exit to be found when inside another’s mind, yet in her panic to escape Iana could not find it. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and a familiar voice calm her down.

  “What comes next is not a journey you can take, my Queen.” The voice whispered. “Take care of his body; I will return his soul when we are done.”

  The link of their minds was severed in an instant, and Iana found herself on the floor of the hallway with her face looking inside the room she had just been in. Lying face down on the floor in a crumpled mess was Aen; his body still and motionless. She felt drained and too weak to stand, so she dragged herself over the tarnished floor - her armor scraping and squealing as she moved - and rolled his body on to her lap. She then dragged herself and his lifeless armored form over to a wall so she could prop herself up and cradled Aen’s head in her arms.

  “Take care of him Ameia.” She whispered and looked up as if to talk to the heavens themselves. “He isn’t as strong as he lets on.”

  Time passed; how long was a mystery and she had no way of telling. They were in the middle of a large underground complex with no sunlight to tell if it was day or night. It could have been hours, or even days, but Iana refused to sleep until he returned to his senses. She passed the time by telling him stories, whispering sweet nothings and urging him back with the promise of being reunited with Lyxia. But time marched on, and sleep began to claw at her resolve. And as she was about to give in, she felt his body shudder in her arms, and then his eyes shot open as he gasped for breath; Aen had returned.

  —

  He began to tell her what he experienced, but yet Iana felt he was leaving much out. He had been stolen away for so long and still felt as if he couldn’t confide in her. She listened, offered her opinion, but did not push the matter with him at all. Aen felt different, and as he rose from her lap she saw that indeed his eyes looked different. Gone was the soulless machine of malice, but so was the broken and insecure being that had departed this plain in the Amarra. Body and mind were one at last, but Aen was definitely not the same.

  “Both died?” she questioned his last words, staring into his black hole eyes. Their ring of blue fire swirled as always, but now had an added presence to it.

  “Ameia.” He replied as his voice seemed crisp and cold. “This place of evil took two lives to make one; the repercussions of which have ravaged the landscape of the entire galaxy. If none of this happened, then none of what is to come would never be. But now the enemy draws near, and the darkness of war looms ever closer. Hers is a legacy of choice, and Aaron’s was one of love; it is my legacy that I feel will be forever marred by what has yet to come.”

  “So we do what you said we would do.” Iana replied as they both rose to their feet in a clatter with their modified Ifierin armor echoing off the ceramic surface. “We take the fight to them; wars can be avoided and I think if we act quickly we can stop the Empire from collapsing.”

  Aen cocked his head slightly and smiled; without words she knew that he did not mean the civil unrest that had risen in recent years. He was speaking of the bigger picture; one she couldn’t see yet. He opened his mouth to respond, but a sound stopped him in his tracks; footsteps in the medical wing ended the conversation as they realized they were no longer alone. Aen donned his helmet and motioned for her to follow. Both suits of armor let out a low hiss as they pressurized and sealed; they now had their own atmosphere in which to breathe sterile and filtered air. The enhanced sensors picked up the clattering of multiple pins as they fell to the floor followed by the metallic bouncing of canisters down the hall and into the room with them. Five tear gas grenades exhaled fumes and gasses to flush them out; it appeared that their pursuers had finally caught up with them!

  —

  It was an odd cryptic message that Lieutenant Wilson received as he was leaving Alexandria, but he knew instantly what it meant and where it told him to go. Truth be told, it was the last place on Earth he ever thought he would visit again, but after losing his new entourage he and his team were heading towards the Rocky Mounta
ins in Utah.

  Project Starchild had been the beginning of the end for him; first it had cost him his soul by agreeing to kidnap and deliver a man to be used in some godless experiment, but soon after he was called back to track down the monster that experiment created. Later it had nearly cost him his life as the creature had left him for dead amongst the heap of other bodies it had stacked up in that hangar in the desert; and as he lay in a coma in the underground facility the Husk attacked and swept away his hometown and his wife in their attack. Avery read the message one more time that he received from General Patterson, just in case he was reading it wrong.

  “Left the light on in my old office; the one with the view. Afraid it has attracted some attention. Be a friend and turn it off for me.”

  Translated it meant that someone had tripped the silent alarm left behind in the building and he should go there and check it out immediately. He wasn’t reading it wrong at all; it seemed he was cursed to keep returning back to this special place in hell until he redeemed himself. Silently, Wilson wondered if he ever might achieve such a thing.

  Three hours after the alarm was tripped, they had arrived at the destination and circled the building to get a fix on the intruders. Using state of the art scanning equipment, they swept through the upper floors before aiming the device at the mountainside to see what lay below. Five years ago, this was a pipe dream, but thanks to joining the Empire certain perks became readily available. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for.

  “Two targets in sub-floor three.” One of his men shouted over the whine of the shuttle engines. “Looks like they’re a couple of Ifierin due to their size and armor reflection on the radar, but whatever they found down there knocked them on their asses; both are down and not moving!”

  “I want two teams of five; first with me and we take the south staircase.” Wilson barked. “Second team, take the east stairs. We’ll meet in the medi-lab and set up an ambush.” He turned to the pilot and set up more orders. “Drop us on the roof; ten second touch and go; then keep circling and give us readouts on where they are and going. If they pick their fucking noses I want to know, got it?”

  “Yes sir!” the pilot responded. “Touch and go in forty-five.”

  “Get your shit ready!” Wilson hollered. “We drop in thirty!”

  As the shuttle dropped its loading ramp, the ten men exited quickly and set out in the two aforementioned teams. Through the broken windows of the roof observation deck they climbed and pried bars, worked on the sealed doors, for more time then he wanted.

  ‘How the hell did they get in?’ Avery wondered as the doors finally gave way and the soldiers rushed in and bounded down the stairs.

  “One, this is Flyby.” His radio chirped. “Target A is mobile, moving slowly across to B.”

  Wilson clicked his mic twice to reply, hesitant to talk as it may echo in the concrete mausoleum. Down they went, until his team hit the security door that blocked any path into the sublevels. It was thick; much too thick to pry open and the risk of using explosives was too high as it would lose the element of surprise; and as they were rushing to face two Ifierin with only ten men they needed every advantage possible. He only hoped that the two stayed down until they got there.

  “Elevator shafts.” He whispered. “Break out the rapid descent gear double time!”

  Backpacks were unslung from shoulders, and ropes and pulleys were pulled out and set up at a break neck pace. Everyone knew the clock was ticking and they were all anxious to take a shot at two ‘Devil Men’ as the Ifierin had become known as, to the common folk. The blood red armor with the black accents, the helmet with both horns and tusks, and the lustful way they enjoyed the carnage of battle, lent them to the equivalent of the devil’s army. His men had trained to be the best of the best for years, and now every one of them was itching to prove it.

  “A and B in middle room and not moving.” The report came as they latched up and readied to rappel. “Been that way for about an hour now.”

  An hour; it had taken an hour to descend down into the depths of this hellhole in a race to face off against two impossible foes. It was taking too long to get there; time wasn’t on their side as they wouldn’t stay down forever. Soon, they were traversing the floors downward on the nylon ropes and quickly reached sub-level three. Slowly, the shaft doors were pried open and the men began to climb in. Across the way, Wilson saw the second team open their elevator doors and enter stealthily also. A series of hand motions instructed them where to set up; fire teams to the left and right of the hall and two men behind the table barricade facing the hall entrance directly. They were almost ready, but time was about to run out.

  “Movement!” the pilot called out frantically. “B is up and A is moving.”

  Damn! This place and luck just had a way of never working together. Wilson began to think quickly; if they didn’t strike now there would be no telling how hairy things might get. They still had the element of surprise, but if he waited any longer they would lose that too.

  “Five cans of smoke in the room in three,” he whispered as the men grabbed tear gas grenades and popped the pins. “Two, one, go.”

  It was the pins that hit the ground first as the canisters were lobbed towards the room as he found it hard to believe that something that small could make so much noise. Then the cans began to bounce, and one after another they began to belch smoke as they rolled into the room; each throw had been perfect. The room billowed with gas and all the men aimed carefully at the doorway in anticipation of the two aliens to emerge; flushed out by the fumes of the painful gas.

  “More movement.” The pilot added. “B is heading towards the door and A is….” The transmission cut out. Wilson clicked his mic a few times to get a response and looked over to his men, who signaled no go with the comms as well. They were now blind; perfect.

  “You have entered a restricted facility!” Wilson shouted at the top of his lungs. “Come out with your hands on your head slowly and surrender.”

  A shadow loomed in the doorway and ten laser sights focused in on the central mass as it began to step forward. It walked slowly and did not do as instructed as its hands stayed by its side. Wilson expected a fight, but he expected both to come out together and throw themselves into the fray head on. But this one was defying logic and walking straight into the line of fire.

  “Hands on your head!” he hollered again.

  The figure began to clear the smoke, and Wilson realized that he had made a mistake. They had pegged the intruders as Ifierin, but this figure was clad in chromed armor with a helmet worthy of a medieval Knight. The armor was a bit different, but he instantly recognized the figure as not a member of the Lyarran forces, but as the one that had killed the Empress. This was about to get much worse than he ever imagined. There was no diplomacy anymore, no options to worry about political repercussions; they had come face to face with a mass murderer and possibly the most dangerous creature in the galaxy.

  “Fire at will!” he shouted as all hell began to break loose.

  —

  “Caretaker!” Aen shouted into his comm line. “If they have eyes and ears, I need them shut down now! If there is a ship out there, land its ass on the roof and shut it down.”

  “On it.” The AI quickly replied.

  “Stay in the room and wait for me.” He turned back to Iana as he picked up one of the smoking grenades. “We didn’t come this far for you to get shot by some dumb human soldier.”

  Iana nodded in agreement and shifted back to the far wall to a place where she would be in cover. Once he was convinced she was away from harm, Aen walked to the door and out into the hall. The second he emerged from the lab, he heard a familiar voice shout.

  “You have entered a restricted facility! Come out with your hands on your head slowly and surrender.”

  Aen took a few more steps forward and rolled the smoke bomb around in his palm to get the best grip. His helmet began to identify the attackers and
their positions, along with the person who was in charge. While it wasn’t a complete surprise to hear that voice here in this house of horrors, Aen was curious to make sure he left its owner alive; at least until he knew why he was being killed and by whom.

  “Hands on your head!” it shouted, followed by “Fire at will!”

  The familiar crackle of a battle rifle echoed in the bowels of the concrete tomb, but Aen had surrounded himself by a thin shield of immense heat that even the plasma laced bullets evaporated in before they could reach him. But it didn’t deter his attackers, and they poured on the barrage and added some plasma rifle fire into the mix. These rounds too couldn’t penetrate his defenses, but just defending wasn’t going to keep Iana safe.

  With his right arm, Aen wound up and threw the gas canister as hard as he could through the barricade of tables and striking the chest of the leader; breaking a few ribs and sending him flying back to the far wall. The impact broke his right femur and the already fractured ribs punctured his left lung. With the primary target down and out, he turned his attention to the others and with a bit of concentration made their weapons too heavy to wield any longer by adjusting the force of gravity on the specific guns. With dull thuds, they hit the floor and dented the cement it was made of. Some turned and ran, and Aen assisted them by sending them flying into the wall, head first. Necks snapped with sickening cracks and in a flash seven men were dead.

  The remaining two were brave and drew knives; Aen chuckled and lowered his shield as he turned to face them. He imagined them both glowering angrily behind their gas masks; brave soldiers following orders to the very end. With a wave of his left hand, he awarded their bravery with a quick death as he ignited their cells and turned them to statues of ash in the blink of an eye. Now he was alone with the one he wanted all along and he slowly stalked his injured prey as it struggled to get to his feet. Aen grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up so they could speak face to face.