by I G Hulme
The going was harder now, the innards of the ship a forest of twisted wreckage. He found himself having to clamber over fallen gantries that spanned the dizzying heights, or navigate through tangles of metal and cables that hung down like dense foliage. Often he would come to an area made impassable by a collapsed roof or some sheer chasm. Then, he would have to turn back and seek out a more favourable route.
It was during one of these searches through a maze of girders that he came upon another vision.
The air had been growing steadily brighter for some time, the overlay of light upon the wreckage gaining in solidity with each step Ryann took. Curious wisps of light seemed to play out some scene around him — strange ethereal shapes that swirled upon the edge of his vision. If he reached out to touch them they curled about his arms like trails of mist, before fading back to darkness.
Ryann found himself traversing a narrow crawlspace as he hunted for a way into one of the main shafts that appeared to run almost the height of the ship. He had spent hours climbing the walkways that criss-crossed its depths, but as he neared the summit, the structural damage kept forcing him back into the maze of corridors in an attempt to find a route upwards.
He was nearly back to the upper walkways now, but one more fallen section of wall was impeding him. As he crawled between the crushed girders he suddenly spied the source of the illumination. It emanated from a body wedged in the wreckage of a collapsed corridor.
Ryann crouched in the semi-darkness, searching for any sign of movement, but the figure lay still and silent.
As he moved closer, he was shocked to see that it was one of the Luminal drones he had witnessed in his earlier visions of the ship when it was complete.
He had heard many stories of these Luminal soldiers, and had occasionally seen their bodies tumble from the wreckage of a destroyed craft before they faded back to nothingness. But now, alone on an alien derelict warship, this was the first time that he had ever seen one up close.
He approached it cautiously, his rifle held up in readiness.
It was just as Ryann’s father had described when he had recounted his tale of that strange connection he had made to the Lumina. On that occasion, he and Mellarnne had brought the dying creature aboard their ship, and Grayell had reached out to grasp its hand. And with that touch, Grayell had a vision of being transported right back to the Luminal source. There, his father had witnessed the shared experiences of the crew of the Battleship Oak, those souls trapped by the Luminal entity, their consciousnesses somehow manipulated in order to create the Luminal battle fleet.
Ryann stood looking on in fear.
The drone was humanoid in shape, but its body seemed to be composed of pure light that rippled and shimmered like liquid. Its face was ill-formed — a vague, human mask set with two dark eyes that seemed limitless, as though they contained the depths of the universe itself.
But the creature was barely alive.
It lay upon the floor, its body crushed by a fallen girder. Where its torso was trapped, the flesh seemed to meld into the blackened metal, as though it were fused into the ship.
At the sight of Ryann, the creature looked up in alarm and a faint flicker of electricity played over its skin before fading back to a dim glow. With a great effort, the creature lifted its arm, holding out a hand towards Ryann. Its eyes implored him, and without thinking Ryann lowered his rifle and stepped closer.
Gingerly, he reached out his hand towards the creature. He felt his heart racing in anticipation.
This was what he had risked his life for by coming to this ship.
This was the moment. If ever he was to understand the enemy, then he had to know them, to experience them in the same way that his father had. Ryann swore that he would discover all that there ever could be known about the Lumina — even more than his father.
His hand trembled and he paused, only inches from the creature’s imploring grasp. His mind was an avalanche of swirling thoughts and fears; and still he couldn’t bring himself to take the creature’s hand.
A sudden image of his father leapt into his fevered mind — of the time when he had given Ryann a dressing-down after he spoke out. Grayell’s words came back in a haunting clarity:
“You’re acting like a spoiled little brat! Perhaps you should consider that the universe doesn’t revolve around you for a change!”
Ryann felt a surge of anger run through him and he reached out, closing his eyes as he took hold of the creature’s outstretched hand.
He tensed, anticipating a flood of visions — that overwhelming wave of enlightenment his father had spoken of.
But nothing happened.
He opened his eyes in confusion as he felt the substance of the creature’s grip fading away.
He was too late. With a final sigh, the drone’s head fell back to the floor, its eyes wide and staring. The light had already left its body, drained from the creature’s face until Ryann could begin to see through it to the floor beneath.
“No!” he called out in exasperation, desperately trying to hold on to the creature’s hand, even as it melted away to nothing.
In a few short seconds, all trace of the figure had disappeared and Ryann was left kneeling upon the floor staring in anger and disbelief at this precious opportunity lost.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE HIVE QUEEN
At some point in that dreamlike state, Ryann dragged himself back to his feet and carried on along that surreal journey.
After his encounter with the dying drone, he saw no further signs of life. With the fading of that Luminal creature, the ship now felt empty and utterly lifeless.
Eventually, he managed to find a route back to the main shaft and struggled on up the endless ramps. The floor of the walkway was constructed from some semi-transparent material which gave Ryann a dizzying view of the shaft disappearing off hundreds of feet into the depths below.
“Up here!”
Ryann froze as an urgent whisper echoed from above.
He craned his neck upwards, peering through the sights of his rifle, scanning the shadows for the source of the call.
And then he saw her, a pale woman, possibly in her late-thirties, her features partially obscured behind the visor of her helmet. She wore a dust covered flight-suit and waved frantically with one hand. In her other hand she held a flashlight.
Ryann lowered his rifle. The woman was leaning over the parapet of a walkway about ten metres above his head. The slender bridge arced out over the centre of the shaft to be lost in the shadows of the far side.
“Find somewhere to hide!” she hissed urgently.
“Who are you?” called Ryann, his words muffled by his helmet.
The woman didn’t answer, but motioned him to be silent. She appeared agitated and wide-eyed, pointing down towards the far end of Ryann’s walkway.
To his surprise, he made out a faint blue glow forming in the blackness of the vaulted corridor beyond. He fancied that he could make out a slow, rhythmical noise like the beating of distant drums.
He looked back up to the woman, who’s terrified expression seemed on the verge of madness.
“Hide! Quickly! The Hive Queen is coming! She’s almost here!”
With a last fearful glance, she ducked back down behind the parapet and was gone.
Ryann was frozen with indecision.
After such an arduous search, he had finally found the woman responsible for signalling to him. He desperately wanted to chase after her. But he had no time to think. The sound was getting louder now, and he suddenly realised what its source was. It was the slow tread of many feet marching as one.
Ryann cast about urgently for any place to hide as the glow intensified, that phosphorescent blue that had heralded each reality-bending situation he had witnessed thus far.
A great tangle wreckage from a fallen control tower was his nearest chance of a hiding place. He dashed along the walkway, praying that he could cover the distance in time. The sound was ri
sing like a wave behind him — a low moan of wind joining the inexorable booming of marching feet.
He flung himself behind a fallen girder just as the first figures appeared from the corridor. Peering out from his place of concealment, Ryann was captivated by the scene that unfolded.
In a column twelve deep, hundreds of drones marched with an unnatural slowness. They were the same faceless creatures as the one he had encountered earlier, but now they shone fully with that sickly blue illumination.
Each one was a strange featureless mannequin, formed from liquid light whose surface rippled and shimmered. As they marched they carried a great bier upon their shoulders. A dais that held a throne rose from its centre. And upon the throne sat a figure, who was surely the queen which the mysterious woman had spoken so fearfully of. The bizarre scene shone out as though it were spun from pure energy.
The queen wore a long flowing gown, richly embroidered with intertwining symbols that seemed to shift and pulsate. Her hands rested lightly upon the arms of her throne and she stared straight ahead as the procession filed past Ryann’s hiding place. Her hair was bound up in an exotic display, heavy with golden ornaments, and her face was hidden behind a golden mask. Its features were rough-formed and expressionless, with blank holes cut out for the eyes and mouth.
Ryann held up his gloved hand to shield his eyes from the glare, spellbound by the dreamlike scene. He found the queen’s mask extremely unnerving, as though the face behind it were something that should remain hidden.
As the procession drew parallel to his position, Ryann found himself strangely drawn towards it. A pang of fear hit him at the thought of missing the opportunity should it pass him by, and without realising he raised himself up to get a better look.
The sudden realisation of what he had done struck him, and he ducked back into cover.
But it was too late. The procession came to a sudden halt. A heavy silence descended over the scene, with each of the drones standing motionless as though all life had suddenly been drawn from them.
He was barely ten metres from the nearest figures, close enough to see the trails of light playing out over their bodies.
Slowly, he raised his rifle up from his side.
As though sensing his movement, the queen turned her blank gaze upon him.
Her stare was utterly empty, as though she somehow inhabited a different reality. And suddenly the thought came to Ryann that she was the mask — that there was no face behind it, and that thought scared him more than anything.
Ryann’s heart was in his mouth as he charged his rifle, ready for any sign of sudden movement.
And then slowly, the queen raised an emaciated hand. She pointed a slender finger directly towards him and a sound like a breath of wind emanated from between the golden lips of her mask. The wind quickly rose in intensity, louder and louder — a screech of a storm upon which a thousand voices seemed to cry out in fear and anguish.
Ryann felt his body buffeted by the force of the blast as it tore through the shaft and he staggered backwards.
And then, beside the queen a darkness seemed to form, like some cloud of ash, swirling violently as it coalesced into the unmistakable silhouette of a man.
“This way! This way quick!”
Ryann spun around in terror, his gun held out in front of him.
He found himself face to face with the pale woman who had signalled him.
“Please! He’s coming! She’s calling for him! We have to go now!”
Ryann thought that his mind would collapse under the weight of events. The masked queen was rising to her feet now, her corpse-like hand outstretched as though she were trying to tear at Ryann’s flesh. He could see the dark air streaming from the mouth of her golden mask, flowing into the swirling darkness, imbuing the figure with solidity.
The man within the cloud was almost fully-formed now; where the wind had momentarily before whipped through him, now it swirled around, tearing at his dark clothes.
“Come on!” pleaded the pale woman in desperation. The deafening sound of the queen’s cry was almost too much to bear, and without thinking Ryann found himself turning and following the woman, fleeing for his life.
She led him straight back into the wreckage, squeezing deftly between the tangle of metal. Encumbered by his flight-suit, Ryann found it difficult to follow her, but he pushed on, desperate to get away from the nightmarish scene.
With some scrambling he managed to make it through and found himself on the other side of the walkway.
For a moment, there was no sign of the pale woman, and he looked around in confusion. And then, to his relief, he spied three short flashes of her light as she peered around the corner of a narrow corridor some distance off in the shadows.
Ryann set off at a sprint as the sound of the storm grew ever louder at his back.
He made it to the corridor where the woman waited, and turned around for a last glimpse of the queen and her following.
She stood at her throne, staring straight into Ryann. As he looked on, the howl of the storm ceased instantly, leaving behind a terrible void.
The shadowed figure beside her was fully-formed now. He dwarfed the others, and was dressed in some unfamiliar black uniform. His face was pale and gaunt, giving him the appearance of a dead thing, with black, lifeless eyes that conveyed only cruel indifference. A long scar, vivid against his pale flesh, ran down his right cheek.
At the sight of the figure, Ryann found himself utterly overwhelmed by his fear. All he wanted to do was run, but he was paralysed, rooted to the spot.
And then the figure spoke, and it was as though the rasping voice made no audible sound, but instead formed itself within Ryann’s head.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
The words were like a whisper of breath from a grave, but Ryann’s legs almost buckled under their intensity. He struggled to form a thought, as though he were inhabiting some strange nightmare.
“Ryann Wade.”
The words fell from Ryann’s mouth of their own volition, drawn out against his will.
The shock of hearing his own voice gave Ryann an instant in which he was back in the present — the physical world. With all his effort he tried to force himself into action but it was no use, it was as though his body was no longer his own. In desperation, he focussed all his concentration upon the gun in his hand and somehow he willed himself to pull the trigger.
The retort of his rifle shook him out of his paralysis. The shot streaked across the open space and impacted into the wall some way off its target. But it was enough to release him. He turned and fled down the corridor not caring where he went as the entire nightmarish procession howled its fury at his back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A LIGHT LOST IN THE SHADOWS
“Thanks for helping me out back there,” gasped Ryann at last. “I’m Ryann by the way.”
They had been running for ages now, charging recklessly along unlit corridors until the howl of the queen had finally receded into a deathly stillness. The pale woman had eventually come to a halt, and now Ryann was slumped upon the floor with his back against a fallen girder trying hard to catch his breath.
He looked around in silent wonder. They had come out into a high-ceilinged hangar that stretched off far into the distance. The walls gave off a faint blue luminescence, and Ryann could make out endless rows of drone ships docked into the walls. He looked up to see the rows disappearing off into the heights above. There must be thousands upon thousands of still and silent craft, he thought to himself.
The woman had seated herself upon the floor opposite him, her knees pulled up beneath her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. Ryann could see the glimmer of her dark eyes behind her visor.
“What’s your name, how did you get here?” he asked quietly.
The woman jumped, looking up at him as though suddenly aware of his presence.
“Hey, it’s alright. You just saved me remember?”
The wo
man gave a nervous smile. Ryann could see her shoulders fall as she released some of her tension with a deep sigh.
“My name’s Eve,” she said at last, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “Eve Ellissonne. I was first-officer on a ship — it, it seems like a lifetime ago now, I can barely remember.”
She hung her head once more as though reliving painful memories.
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
And then, with a sigh, the woman began to speak, as though it were a confession.
“Our ship was captured, and we were all taken. They, they held us prisoner, and it felt like I was paralysed — they kept me there — I don’t know how long for — it seemed like forever. I could see the rest of my crew — I could hear their voices, crying out for help. But I couldn’t move, there was no way to escape. I thought I’d be trapped there forever. But then the ship started to break apart and somehow I managed to get free.” She fell silent, seemingly exhausted by the effort of recalling her story.
“Do you know if any more of your crew survived?” asked Ryann, leaning forward. Eve merely shrugged and turned her face away.
“They’re not on the ship — I, I don’t know,” she sighed at last.
After a long, uneasy silence Ryann asked, “What the hell did I just see back there? I mean, I’ve seen some crazy stuff since I came aboard this ship, but that, that was…” His voice trailed off as he tried to find the words to describe all that he had witnessed. “I’d thought I might be able to find some answers here — my dad, he saw things through the Lumina. But, I don’t know — I don’t know what I expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t this.”
“It’s like a dream from which you can never wake up.” Eve’s desolate whisper was so faint, Ryann barely caught the words.
“Exactly. It’s all some crazy dream, I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t here.” He shook his head wearily. “I just want to get off this wreck and back to the Defiance.”
