Rise of Aen

by Damian Shishkin

  Aen watched curiously as she continued, and hung on her every word. He was sure that after this moment he would never hear the sound of her voice again.

  —

  “For eons the Empire has existed, and in that time we have seen the Husk rape and pillage worlds such as yours. And after spending so much time amongst you, watching you grow and learn, I cannot bear to let it happen to you.” The recording of Ameia spoke as the U.N. Council listened silently.

  “Ours is an ancient civilization; from what our scholars are able to determine, we are one of the first to climb out of the primordial ooze. Long gone is our time of reaping war on the cosmos, now replaced by the wanton yearning for knowledge and exploration. Over a thousand different worlds are a part of our Empire, and it was our hope that someday Terra Sol would be amongst those worlds; not to be ruled, but to be an equal part of a truly galactic civilization.”

  “I could no longer stand by and wait for the reason we were sent here, so I rushed forth to make it happen! From the beginning, our prophets have told of a great being to be born out on the rim of the galaxy. The descriptions of that rim world match Terra Sol, so our research team was dispatched to watch and wait for him. When we realized that the Husk had learned of your planet, I knew he wouldn’t come in time.”

  The woman stopped, looked around the room; seemingly at each person within; and continued with a tear in her eye. “I staged a crash landing, knowing that I would be captured and used as a laboratory experiment. I planted the idea in the scientist’s head of a cross-species hybrid to rush the creation of this Harbinger, and they did just that. After long years of pain and torture, my child was born in an epic birth cry that would echo across the cosmos.”

  “Now with him safely hidden away to grow and learn, I find myself slipping away into the long night; my life energies drifting away. And here is where my plan has gone awry—he is all alone now, as I am the last Lyarran here. He is left in the hands of the wise monks upon mountain high, and along with a virtual intelligence to guide him they will shape him into the hero you so desperately need right now.”

  Ameia slumped slightly, her face showing the strain to keep her stately pose. It was clear to all that she was dying in front of them; they were witnessing the end of her life.

  “What is left for you is to find a way to become one; for you to live and fight as a race, not as independent countries. Every one of the worlds in the Empire has faced an extinction level event that when they survived changed them for the better. My fear is that this one comes at a point to soon for you to overcome your differences.”

  Her body spasmed and her legs gave, Ameia crumpling to the floor. The council as a whole stood in reaction, all wanting to render aid for a woman who was already dead. Patterson’s cheeks were stained from tears. Long had he watched and been a part of her torture; it was his doing that this beautiful creature before them had died.

  “There is no peace with the Husk,” she continued with a noticeable strain on her face. “Do not be fools and throw away innocent lives in thinking you can. Best is a strategy you call guerilla warfare. Meet them with resistance as they arrive, but do not throw away all you resources as you do. Help will come from the Empire, and the Harbinger will fight heroically for you. Terra Sol cannot fall; there is too much greatness in humanity to end as mere slaves without a home.” Her eyes began to close and her voice faded away. “He will fight for you, and he will keep them at bay long enough for help to arrive. There is greatness in you, please do not waste it.”

  Then she was silent; the rise and fall of her chest stopped, and soon after so did the recording. The entire room was eerily silent before the older man spoke once more.

  “I was there as this was recorded; I watched this regal creature spend her last breath to warn us! I cried, as you do now. The Harbinger is out there somewhere, trying to contact her people to send help. Let’s do our part and try to save as many innocents as possible; let’s preserve our history and ready ourselves for the fight of our lives.”

  “And what if this is all a hoax?” asked the Canadian ambassador. “All this could be done with computers.”

  “In just under five months,” General Patterson spoke up, “They will be here, and whether or not you think the threat is real will be a moot point. And if you have done nothing to prepare for it, may whatever God you pray to have mercy on your souls!”

  Lyarran Vessel Amarra, Southern Pacific Ocean Floor -

  Five Months and One Day until Arrival

  Aen had fled during the ensuing discussion, more because his presence wasn’t needed to convince the masses then to avoid detection as an unwanted guest. The recording was a surprise unknown to even him, a testament to the level of commitment the order had to the Lyarrans and the forecast of things to come. Inside, he was a bit flustered as he wished some form of warning was given to brace for a shock like that.

  So from the dark corner of the warm chambers of the U.N. he teleported himself to a dark and cold corner of the dimly lit Amarra. He was somewhere near the mid-ship range in the compartment that housed the weapons locker. It was a rather large room, but most was hidden from view by the deep darkness that fought hard against the reserve lighting to keep its long standing hold.

  It was his refuge as of late, and for the moment, a chance to be whole after a hellish battle. He had his vengeance, but inside he felt very little difference in his sorrow. Killing those men wasn’t going to bring his life back—the only thing it truly helped was ridding the world of the true monsters. Closing his eyes, he began to replay the final moments with Taylor repeatedly. Over and over, he watched himself pull the trigger and felt nothing in its wake.

  Recent events had indeed changed him, hardened him emotionally, to better prepare him for the larger than life challenge ahead. To say it was intimidating to live up to the hype of being a savior of an entire planet was an understatement in the least. Aen felt like he was standing alone on the beach looking at a tsunami as it raged towards him. He felt the grip and the inescapable fear that comes with such an anointment; the pressure to hold them off was immense.

  Aen had some serious soul-searching to do before the Husk washed ashore of Earth; he had to reach deep down inside and find his true self and fight to make himself whole. But the more he thought about that aspect, it too seemed like an impossible task. Emotionally and mentally he had suffered too much trauma it was hard to find any semblance of the person he was or what he was supposed to be.

  Once more he reached into his pocket to produce the picture of Krista and Sara; he gazed upon their faces, hoping they had made it to the sanctuary. It was his last gesture of family duty to make sure they were safe during the siege yet to be lain; his one last attempt at being a husband and father to a family that was no longer his. The expression of unfettered joy in both the women’s eyes was moving for him; it was something he was sure was no longer there. Too much had battered them down with all this, they were as broken as he was.

  Sharp blistering pain brought Aen back from his trance and made him keenly aware of the damage done to his body. Pulling open his shirt, he noticed the better half of his chest was torn away leaving his powerful heart exposed to the world. For the first time, he bore witness to the extent of his physical changes within. His ribcage was there, but was almost blackened instead of white. The repetitive RPG blasts had simply bent the ribs out of place instead of breaking or shattering them, and they were beginning to right themselves to their proper position; albeit slowly and very painfully.

  As he shed more of his tattered armour, he was able to inspect many of his open wounds that had yet to close. It wasn’t the damage done to his body that shocked him; although he had never thought that something could be so damaged and still stay upright; it was the absence of blood of any kind. His internal structure was somewhat the same; bones, veins, arteries, and some internal organs but not all were still there. The organs that we
re still there all routed their functions to his heart instead of to other parts or exits from the body. Like the old saying about Rome, all roads here led to the star in his core.

  So now, with the anger and hatred gone, he was left with the question he should have been asking from the beginning: what the hell am I? Reaching over to the terminal beside him, he brought up internal snapshots of Lyarran physiology to help him find an answer. This action however, caught the attention of the ever-annoying Caretaker.

  “Is there something I may do to help you research in this matter?” the voice droned over the crackling PA system.

  Aen thought of telling it to mind its own business, but then a thought occurred to him of the research this thing had done on him from before. Maybe he was starting something that was already further along than he could imagine.

  “You said you had done tests on my body as it is now?” he asked to the bodiless voice.

  “Indeed. In the past few months I have run a multitude of tests to study and analyze what you have become—a fascinating case if I might say. In the vast database of Imperial records, there is not a single reference to anything remotely similar to you.”

  So it had done some serious research after all. Maybe Aen would have his answers, or some idea of what he was, soon.

  “Have you cross referenced human profiles against Lyarrans?” Aen quizzed eager for more input.

  “The term Lyarran is one that is more of a generalization than an actual species on its own, so it is difficult to answer that specific question, Aen.”

  Aen didn’t understand the answer; it was vague and quite confusing. But before he could ask for clarification, the always annoyingly thorough A.I. continued on as if it hadn’t paused.

  “Lyarran is the term used for the entity of the Empire as a whole, but also as the originating race from whence the Empire started. There are one thousand and forty five worlds in the Lyarran Empire; all of which have races of a different name and when in concert are referred to Lyarrans. As well, your mother was not a member of the original Lyarran race, but a Paxyn—so any similarities between you and an actual Lyarran would be quite rare.”

  Now Aen’s head hurt; the thing was hard to follow in its ramblings on the best of days, but this was beyond a normal day. He tried hard to rethink what it had said about Ameia not being a Lyarran.

  “Back up a bit; Ameia was a…”

  “Paxyn.” Caretaker interrupted. “When the Lyarrans had fled their home world in the wake of the old God’s death, they settled at long last on the uninhabited planet Ryas after lengthy negotiations with the systems lone residents from the neighboring planet of Pax. Pax was a warrior caste race which was greatly difficult to deal with during that time; the only saving grace was that they too were matriarchal and the instant the Empress joined the discussions things went smoother. She does have a way with things like that, I should say.”

  “More to the point, your physiology has very little in common with any known species in the database. In fact, you are one of the most unique individuals ever studied by any of the Imperial doctorates. Maybe you are the dawn of a new species, but more than likely you are a one-of-a-kind creature that has never before been seen and never will again.” It continued.

  That wasn’t reassuring in the least, the thought of being a one-off thing made him feel more alone than ever before. Everything he knew was not as it was and adjusting to this new existence was proving to be a task in itself.

  “You said I have been studied. Who has been studying me?” he asked after a bit of a silence.

  “Many of the best minds the Empress has at her disposal have been studying your file. Once we made contact with the Lyarran Grand Council, I began to upload all of my research on you, the planet and all of its inhabitants to them. As the link is still active at this point as I left a ‘shunt’ in the line when you connected, which will continue while the power reserves hold. I have to admit, I have not seen the Guild this excited since being brought online,” Caretaker answered eagerly.

  So once again, Aen was a lab rat—perfect. He silently wondered if that would be his destiny once all this was over; to be taken back to the heart of the Empire and dissected for all eternity. He felt a deep pang of rage build from within; an anger that had been briefly extinguished after pulling the trigger on Taylor. He would not be an experiment again; this he swore to himself!

  “I must admit that it is noteworthy the Empress herself is coming all this way. It is a rare occurrence that she ventures forth from the throne world and rarer yet that she would travel to a non-Empire system. From what I can gather, she is keenly interested in you but not in the same reasons as the Guild.” Caretaker went on.

  “Explain what this Guild is you keep referring to?”

  “Ah, of course—here on Earth your religion and science communities are two separate entities, always at war with one another in a frantic effort to disprove each other. In the Empire they are one and the same—the Guild. Religion and science go hand in hand towards the pursuit of the ultimate knowledge. This is where the prophets come in, for they are the core of the Guild itself. Very few in the Empire have seen the prophets and little is known about their past, all but the fact that it was they who found and raised the Empress. It was them who prepared her for the dawn of the Empire and the last days of the warlord kings. Only she and the priestesses of the Guild have access to the prophets. The Guild is an alternative to those who cannot make the cut for the Ifierin Legion, and sometimes for those special enough to bypass the Academy completely. It is there that I was born and it is in the heart of the Guild that I will be shut down if I am not destroyed here.”

  Aen was interested—religion and science together was like cats and dogs marrying, the two just didn’t go together. But beyond that thought and the other facts being pounded upon him was the previous comment about the Empress being interested in him. He had felt her reaching out for him in his mind when he was watching the Council proceedings, he had felt her powers of persuasion in his dreams when she was present there. Such a subtle but powerful creature fascinated him and it made him wonder why she held the same feeling towards him.

  As Caretaker continued to drone on about the Guild, he pretended to be interested while he pondered this. A being—tens of thousands of years old with the knowledge and wisdom of a galactic superpower at her disposal—had set out on the rarest of trips to seek him. She wasn’t coming for Earth or its people; she was coming for him. A chill ran down his spine as this thought resonated in him. Soon he would be face to face with the living Goddess of the Lyarran Empire—that is, if he survived the attack of the Husk.

  Himalayan Mountains, Mount Kailash, Tibet -

  Four Months and Twenty Seven Days until Arrival

  Something was wrong—Krista could feel it deep down but couldn’t quite figure it out. Sara had been acting more and more nervous every day, and now as they reached the top of the mountain she had become increasingly unpredictable. They now stood at the entrance to an ageless monastery and her daughter bickered with her guides as none knew what language was spoken by those inside.

  “Call them in your dialect.” Sara scowled at the Sherpa as she pointed at the overly large wooden doors. “Someone will come because they are expecting us.” There was a definite fear in her voice, her attempts to hide it were long past exhausted from the three day hike up the mountain.

  “No one comes to the gates when we call; they do not talk to us. I tried to tell you before we set out but you would not listen,” the guide replied in his broken English. “You throw much money at me, so I bring you for nothing anyway.”

  Sara let out a growl of frustration—it was obvious to everyone that she was desperate to get in this place that had been closed for years. The real question Krista had was why. Why this place would be so special that they had to get in and what was in there that called for such urgency? She was about to ask her da
ughter when a small voice behind her took them all off guard.

  “Welcome to the Temple of Lyarra’s Light.” The middle-aged Asian monk spoke softly and in perfect English. “You have come a long way my children, how can we assist you?”

  Krista was speechless. From what she had learned in the small villages below was that these monks rarely associated with the outside world and traded or bartered for necessities when needed. The fact that this man knew English so well was dumbfounding. As the elder of the travellers, she felt the responsibility of breaking the short silence and answering the man’s question but it was Sara who spoke first.

  “We have been sent here by a mutual friend for safe haven from the coming storm.” She said with conviction.

  “A mutual friend, you say?” He smiled sincerely, but his voice held a hint of doubt. “We have many friends amongst the world, but none of them go about offering entrance to our humble home. Of whom do you speak?”

  Sara hesitated, not because the name had been forgotten, but because of their present company, the Sherpa. She was unsure if he would spread the word and send droves of people once the world knew of the impending danger to overcrowd and smother this place in an attempt for safety.

  “You hesitate, child. What is it you fear?”

  “I fear that if I say his name aloud now, then once the storm washes ashore, it will be shouted endlessly to grant asylum to those who aren’t worthy. I fear the spoilage of your ways and lifestyle if people should find out why we have come so far to live with so little, but I fear more of not being able to fulfill a dead man’s last wish.”

  The monk understood, or so Krista thought. All this was unknown to her before this minute. She wondered what this coming storm was, and why it had led her daughter here; the prospect of something that bad deeply frightened her. He nodded and turned to the guide and spoke in his native tongue for a moment as Sara fumbled through her translation dictionary in attempt to try and follow the conversation. After a brief chat, the Sherpa bowed to the monk and began making his way down the mountain without them.