Winter 2045
Allison Fae
Silence carried a mysterious rush of energy as she coiled up underneath the dome shaped metal. It covered her completely –but it also blinded her to what remained of the outside. Uncertainty clouded her next move. At least inside her shield she could remain safe and the knowledge of the outside could be hypothetical—the unreal. Until it was revealed, it could be pretended to be safe.
Everything had happened so fast.
Allison Fae was in the middle of a coliseum that just until a few moments ago was so full of life—the energy of the arena had been eclectic—the noise had been deafening with the number of people that had been cheering on the tournament. The air was ripe with energy so electric that it could have powered the stadium if converted. It was so fast that the screams of jubilation shifted to terror and fear. Then next came the object crash landing from space—it had been noticed just in time. She thought if there was a moment more it would have been too late for all of them.
In that single moment the contained energy dispersed and the people began to frenzy and stampede toward safety. Allison herself had only just enough time to conjure up a shield to withstand the blast—it was only thanks to the metal that now covered her that she still breathed. As she remained in the center of the pitch she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but it had only lasted but a moment.
Her body felt sore due to the force of the energy she had conjured, but she preferred that to the alternative. The resonant heat of the cinders nearby told her that her body would be naught but tinder if she were a microsecond slower.
The spirits that had kept her company had vanished—gone after the sound of the impact. If she were dead, she was sure that their presence would be easily felt—haunting her for failing to keep her wits about her. It would have been a sick twisted version of her own self doubts—much like those that clung to her mind all those years ago had been. She would have been one of them, after all. But no...the spirits of Devon and Alex were gone because she was exhausted—fortifying her shield had cost her an immense amount of power—something that wouldn’t have come easily if she didn’t have the Red Monolith with her.
She had thanked Issachar under her breath for indirectly saving her life, though at the same time came the doubts of if that would truly remain to be a positive. She gritted her teeth—her wits had already failed her. She had entered this glorified bloodfest because of him. Zane Hannes was more monster than man and their unlikely alliance had come crumbling as the delegate of this strange land stood as a point to both of their goals—Zane’s for power—Allison’s for revenge.
She now only held onto the dull pain that rang through her head—the earth had violently shaken and the dirt had spoken in return. Its cries echoed and doubled inside the shield she covered over herself—managed through the use of her spear—a metal forged with more than a single monolith at this point—the limitless power source that lay at the end of her aspirations. The metal shaped to her will and had absorbed the brunt of the damage from the devastation outside.
The rest of them out there—if they did not make it far enough away then they were surely dead, but revealing that fact was the single fear keeping her where she lie. If she never revealed the truth then she could believe that nothing bad had ever happened. Nobody will have died and she could lay there simply with that forced belief of peace. It would not be the truth, but what use was the truth anymore when the sky seemed to fall on their very heads regardless of what was true? She couldn’t bear the thought of exiting her safe space to confront the mutilated corpse of those who were unlucky enough to get away...that would be too much.
Still, she knew eventually she would need to find out. Her body was not invincible and would soon waste away and the fear of that quickly overtook anything else.
Okay, you’re going to go on three. Just need to steel yourself together and take it one step at a time. Rush yourself and you’re definitely going to regret it. She drew in a quick breath and realized how putrid the air had tasted—even under her dome. It reeked of charcoal and it brought heavy coughs to the surface. Her throat felt charred at the heat she sat in—as if she were straight in the center of a giant convection oven. Then came the memories of her two year stint as a prisoner for those wretched men flooding past her eyes as the stench’s familiar gruff came in. It was just as rotten then as it was now.
She reached her limit and kicked the metal dome off—it flipped unceremoniously and landed with a thud beside her. Upon making contact with the ground the metal unwound from its circular shape into the shape of the lance she had been more familiar with. She extended her left arm and the lance leapt into her grasp before snaking up her arm in a helix shape before coiling back into its place in her armlet. As soon as it slid in she wrapped her hand over it—feeling security in confirming its location and then breathing out softly in relief.
The pitch of the coliseum had looked like the remnants of a vicious warzone. It was completely leveled and the grass burning a crimson blaze. She saw the tufts of smoke billowing toward the sky from the patches that still had yet to burn. She had known that a fire like this was hottest in its early blazes—now that the damage had been done its only purpose was to wear away the stubbles of grass that valiantly stood against its imminent destruction. In a way, she felt people were very much like the field of grass here—not much all that different if you look at them from far enough away, but if you get in real close you can start to care about a few blades more individually than others—but at the end of the day it all burns to a fire much in the same way.
Allison stood back up to her full height and looked at the source of all this destruction. About thirty feet from her stood the broken remnants of the front of the castle was the wrecked remains of a giant silver ship. Its wings were smaller than a planes—its design had looked foreign to her than any shape of rocket she had known—it looked to be a carrier ship—more than just people seemed to be on board.
Seemed, it was important to double in on the past tense, it seemed most unlikely anything on board had survived that. Though, then again, it was most unlikely that she had survived...she didn’t know whether that made her more or less hopeful to encounter anything breathing on the inside. And in that fact she knew she would be exploring the ship’s depths—it hadn’t even been a question. Something inside her was drawn to the mystery of the ship, and given the relative peace that now existed in this once bustling city—it almost seemed wrong to ignore such a base impulse as to answer a question.
But it wasn’t just a question—it never really was when you got right down to the heart of it, right? It was a myriad of questions whose answers teased their presence just beyond that hatch door—just further in on the inside—and invariably only a few of the now dozens of questions would have their answer. Was that to be enough? Was that not the journey of life that each person travel on their own—to discover how many questions is enough to have answered?
Allison thought on the topic and figured that she wasn’t satisfied yet. She didn’t have enough answers, and wondered if she ever would. She continued forward walking toward the busted and broken hunk of metal—wondering how much of the breaking apart had happened as it was falling versus how much of it was busted on impact with the castle.
It looked familiar. That was one of the most pressing questions that rose to her foremind—just how and why could a ship like this look familiar? Where had she seen something like this before—and she flashed back to the ejected sector that she and Zane had come across previously—where Issachar had taken their last breath. This must have been one whole ship at one point. She wondered for but a minute on the story that must have been tied to a sector being ejected early, though she couldn’t even begin to place when it would have been.
Maybe that was something you could write yourself. It’s not like you’re writing anything new with the ideas already in your head.
The thought had invaded her head out of nowhere. It was a few weeks since she’d last thought about writing—back in that dingy dump in Galder’s Reach. She shuddered—just thinking of that place shot a chill up her spine. She shook her head—that little voice that was destined to shatter her motivation and will had tried its hardest. It would not continue. When Allison was sure she wasn’t going to die she stood up to her feet and called the metal back to the spear in her hand—spreading enough to replace the armor plating over her chest and torso.
There weren’t any bodies around—although to be totally fair she couldn’t see any that had been crushed by the ship in its entirety. I’m going to try to not think of that.
Allison made her way to the front of the ship—it seemed most of the blaze had started in the back—near the jets and fuel source. That didn’t bode well—and meant this thing was probably going to blow soon—yet she felt magnetized to investigate. A bloodied curiosity lie at the end of the destruction it had caused.
Was it worth the risk of death to know the answers that lay within? The answer to that question would depend on who was answering...and to Allison, it was. The whole thing looked like it had emerged from a science fiction story. Though, what hadn’t in this new world?
Underneath the nose of the ship was an impression that looked like it was holding back a landing pad. She whipped her arm out and extended the lance upward at it—the metal of the weapon melting enough to shoot up like a whip. It hardened just before it made impact and broke the surface of the ship, implanting itself into the side of the nose.
It almost felt wrong calling it the nose. She half wanted to call it the beak—as if it were taking the full form of a bird of prey in the space outside of their planet—finally deciding on a kill right in this very coliseum.
Placing such importance on these facts was a remnant of her writer brain—whenever something she wanted to use in a story came across her she would stop everything to make a mental note to jot it down in the mental desk. Back in the old days—Jace served an excellent purpose in assisting with the organization of these stray tidbits. That was, at least, back when he was still speaking to her.
Jace was...everything. He was for all intents and purposes an imaginary friend she had made up when she was a young child. He was a constant friend when she had so often been friendless moving from foster home to foster home. She was dedicated to giving him his story—to repay his infinite kindness and wisdom...which at the end of the day happened to stem from herself, even if she chose not to believe it.
Those stories never came to be. Life happened, so they say. What any writer says when they’re unable to bring life to the characters living in their heads, but Jace was special...because her powers—latent abilities shown to her in her youth had made Jace real. At least, for portions of a time.
She looked up at the lance that had embedded itself into the ship and felt a sense of longing—as Jace had sacrificed himself to create the very lance she had used since that fateful day. No...that wasn’t right, she had sacrificed him. It was important to realize that no matter how real he felt, at the end of the day he stemmed from her consciousness and willpower, and he would not do anything that she had not previously willed—consciously or subconsciously.
And so, she continued her journey, alone. And she would search this ship as she had, alone. These were her choices, as history has shown Allison that tragedy is quick to follow those that concern themselves with the matter of friendship.
At least, she thought, she could honor Jace’s memory with the story that she had promised him all that time ago. Once she was able to fulfill her goals she could finally sit down and give that final grace to the one who had helped her get to where she is going. Of course, there weren’t going to be any spaceships of the sort in Jace’s world. That much she knew. But still...the possibility was always open and that thought was better than berating herself for not doing the act.
Now that the lance had sunken in nice into the ship she pulled herself up, gripping tightly over the hardened metal. Each grip was a strain on the muscles in her shoulders and biceps, but she made it to the top and swung herself upside-down—the blood beginning to rush to her head as she worked the other end of the lance up, loosening its innards. If she couldn’t bash it open, she’d simply sear the seal and rip it open that way. It was a rusted hulk, its exterior scarred by years of exposure to the harsh conditions of space and the heat of impact.
As the end came up to her she worked it over the impression and felt it seep inside. She didn’t need to go all the way—that would hardly be necessary. She only needed to get a corner—maybe a little bit more and...there!
A sound clicked as the hissing died down and the panel fell open in front of her. She could see it was compressed into four sections on top of itself, so she worked to unlock the first compression, and then finally she got the landing pad fully unfolded into a set of stairs up to the entrance bay. It was damaged like the rest, but finally she could right herself up.
The relief on her head was more than she could ask for—the resounding banging of the earth inside her shield had messed with her sensibilities more than she could have originally thought. She stood upright on the stair before grabbing the handrail and letting go completely of the metal—returning it all to her armor so she could get her balance back.
She gripped the handrail tight and climbed her way aboard the ship. Allison was greeted by the musty smell of decay. The smell of sulfur penetrated her being as she breached the entrance bay. The rancid stench sent a shiver down her spine and she had to step back to collect herself. She knew fires could create such a smell but being in contact with a wreck like this was a whole different experience. As she let out a breath of disgust she re-entered the bay and took in her surroundings.
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The interior was dimly lit by the fires that were consuming the crates cloth out in the corner to her left. There were apparent signs of damage everywhere: ripped wires dangled from the ceiling—sparking live voltage down below. She also noticed broken panels and debris scattered on the floor in front of her and her eyes traced the path from the wires to the debris to the fires. It was easy to assume how they had broken out, but it did not inspire confidence that it was safe and contained. She focused on some metal that looked like it was close to bursting above and she made a mental note to not stand close for any length of time.
She closed her eyes and felt a rushing pressure flowing through the metal—and it came to her that this was a water pipe. Water systems like this were not what she expected from a space ship—it seemed almost too mundane—although it also went to show how much she knew about the kinds of things that go into the design of them. Another reason why they will never show up for Jace.
Allison readied her lance and launched it out, the sharpened tip pierced the side of the pipe and water burst forth onto the fire below. She then recalled the metal back and it flew to her, amorphous until she sent it out again—cutting the cables that hung above. No sense letting more electrical fires continue here. Not if I have any plans of making it out of here alive.
The cables fell to the ground and hit hard—the thud echoed down below. Interesting, there is hollow space below the entrance bay—I’ll have to keep that in mind.i
The walls were shined a sleek silver and if the outside of the ship weren’t halfway embedded into the pitch, she could be reasoned to believe the ship were operational. The lights that were built into the ceiling were off—cut from the power supply most likely. Thankfully—ironically—the fire provided enough light for her to navigate safely. Plastered on the wall in white paint was “SCIENTIA R&D”. Scientia, huh? Haven’t heard of them, I wonder what they were researching?
The mess in front of her was disarray if it could be given physical form. Crates were overturned and metal bits and pieces were strewn about everywhere. She had no inkling as to what any of them did, but it certainly didn’t make for easy walking. There was so little space that wasn’t already occupied by something—it must have all been thrown around as the ship entered the planet’s atmosphere.
Right in front she saw a doorway that looked like its electronics had malfunctioned—the door itself was stuck halfway closed. There was enough room for her to slide on in, but to be safe she pushed on the edge of the door to move it fully open. It was a tough move at first, but it slowly began to shift under her pressure.
As she continued her search, she came across what looked to be the passenger cabin. There were rows and rows of seats that had been stuck in place. They were covered in dust and looked like they have been unused for a very long time. Allison came across the remains of a suitcase, its contents were strewn about on the floor. There looked to be various documents stuffed into folders and stray jumpsuits that were haphazardly folded. She picked apart the clothes and heard something fall to the ground—a small blue bird figurine had fallen out of the suit’s pocket,
Allison picked up the small figurine and stared at it—her eyes adjusting to the low light to see that it looked to be hand-painted. Just what are you…? This seems important for the soul if not for anything else. I’d hate for it to be lost here forever.
She pocketed the bird and then bent down to pick up the folder, stuffing the paperwork back into it to get a good grasp. She knew she wouldn’t be able to read it in here with how dark it was—a lingering thought passed by that wished for another fire to erupt in this very room before she shoved it away. She looked around for anything else of note before ducking back out to the entrance bay.
To her right she saw a doorway that looked like it headed out toward the cockpit. She had a natural curiosity over who could have piloted this heap into a planet, so she made her way first toward the cockpit. Across the Entrance Bay she saw the doors seemed to be powered by the ship’s electricity—a shame if it weren’t all ablaze currently.
While she had the chance she opened the folder she had tucked against her side and started leafing through the papers inside. She thumbed through maintenance records. There was generalized information about the ship’s maintenance schedule, although the records notably dropped off before this last flight.
She skimmed and followed into seeing the ship’s insurance and registration documents—although these had been long faded—they must have originated long before the rest of the paperwork. That bodes well for the purpose of this ship’s final departure. She continued on and found a sheet detailing the ship’s emergency procedures. Lot of good these did for those onboard. Not like they could predict coming back into orbit like they did. I wonder if they even practiced these.
The rest of the documents held denser and denser information, safety checklists, log books, crew manifests. She finally had a list of names, but names without faces or details was useless to her. She thought back to the bodies she saw in the jettisoned sector, but found it difficult to place a connecting thread.
She sighed and tossed the folder aside—figuring it was more important to someone who was in active use of the ship rather than someone combing through its remains. Really sucks, paperwork like that is apt to carry information on what these Scientia people were doing aboard here.
She curled some metal from her armor into the crevice between the two slits of the door and forced them open—leaving a rod of her metal to keep the doors open—as it was clear they wished to remain closed forever.
She opened it enough to slide on through and the cockpit looked almost exactly as she envisioned. There were two seats built into the front overlooking the bubble of the front pane. She saw the nose of the ship drip down like a teardrop from her vantage point.
The one thing that caught her off guard was the old computer plugged into an outlet beside the leftmost chair. It looked dated—and though she hadn’t seen one like this in decades images came to her immediately of the lives that were attached to machines like this. It for a moment made her wish for the life she used to have—a life where a computer could be taken for granted or chucked into the nearest junk bin. Something as simple as its owner upgrading to something new or even obsessing over old tech. Instead, here it sat as an anachronism that only further highlighted how “other” everything seemed to be.
Her skin felt a prickling sensation as if there was a dull hum of energy in this room—as abandoned as it was. If she closed her eyes and focused entirely on the blackness she could almost sense the fear in the soul that kept company in this room. There was one as of late. I don’t know who they are, but its left a remnant I can just barely see.
The display on the computer was black, it seemed to have survived the fall—she couldn’t tell if that was a miracle or not, but it felt like a sign. At least, it would had the power not been cut, so whatever had been on it would have to rest here…unless…
She wondered if it would work—she stood and walked back toward the rear of the ship. Theoretically if she were able to isolate the power source for the ship she might be able to apply the power from the Monoliths to get the ship up and running again. She slid through the crevice back to the entrance bay and collected the remainder of her metal, reforming the lance in her hand. She stopped as something dark ran up and down her like a cold chill. She was suddenly aware she was not alone—and her grip tightened on the lance.
A shadow moved on the far right wall and she saw a long dark arm extend out toward her. She leapt to the side and tried to pin the arm to the wall, but the lance went straight through—dinging off the wall itself. The arm retracted back to the wall and half a body spilled out of the wall, drooping toward the ground. Cavernous sockets where its eyes should have been glowed faintly yellow.
If she focused on the body she could almost see a woman’s form inside the darkness, but it seemed to fade in and out of existence.
Then it clicked—the force inside that body was the remnant she felt in the cockpit. Somehow—this was the person that last manned this ship. She felt a chill inside straightening her spine stiff as there was more there. She—whoever she was—wasn’t piloting that body.
The form bent and its jaw opened on a broken hinge, letting loose an unnatural groan. Allison took a step back and shot out an end of her lance toward the form—not taking a chance to let it approach further. The metal pierced the black void of its body, but on closer inspection it looked like its body had opened up and wrapped itself around the metal’s edge as it impaled itself into the wall.
“Wh At hAs yoU sO sCarED?” The garbled voice said, its head approaching closer on an elongated neck. The body of the figure fully detaches from the wall and hangs in the air as its lower half tries to find the ground. “NiGhTmareS arREnTT so BaDd.”
The hairs on Allison’s arms stood on end as the room went subzero in a matter of moments. The fire in the corner of the bay was hushed out and the water iced over.
Out of the corner of her eye Allison spotted the spirit she had expected to see earlier—it was Devon and Alex. The spirits that used to inhabit the Children of the Night Sakonna and Issachar. They stood at her side and through the look on their face she understood. They wanted her to move along—they were going to try to hold off this monstrosity. She didn’t understand how they would be able to fare any better, but if they felt confident enough to try, she figured her best bet was to trust them.
“Thank you,” Allison said, nodding to them as she retracted her metal back into the armor fully. She took off in a run as the form’s head turned slowly to follow her, but then return to face the spirits that had remained behind.
Allison used enough metal to open the door at the end of the bay and slid through in a hurry. Behind her, she knew that the screams she felt inside her heart were more than her fears.
She took in a deep breath and continued through the darkness. She could barely see five feet in front of her, although it did imply she could expect that the ship from here on out would be stable enough for her to explore. She continued forward until in the distance she saw a source of light, small as it may be.
Its source was a small blue light flashing from a button that rested on a column. It was a slow flashing that seemed to be on a haunting rhythm...one...two...three. One...two...three.
From the light she saw there was a steep drop off toward a depth she could not see the end of. Over the depth was a straight bridge that pointed straight outward over the gap. She looked over the button and held her hand over it. As her hand hovered another scream rang out in the innards of her heart and she resolved and swallowed, pressing it. A flash of the woman pressing this same button ran across her skin and she shivered in response.
The sound of the bridge beginning to turn was a grinding of metal on metal. The button must have been tied to the ship’s emergency power—what little reserves was tied to internal power outside of the main power source in case the crew needed to navigate this bridge if they needed.
The bridge rotated and Allison saw that the bridge now pointed toward a different endpoint—and saw clearly there were nine doors built into the walls from this central bridge, and operating this button shifted access to each of the different doors.
Once it stopped Allison tested the bridge—cautious of it falling and taking her into its depths. She placed a hesitant foot on the bridge. After confirming it was stable she let loose a breath and continued across. The door at the end was larger than the other doors she had encountered thus far. I don’t think I’ll be able to prop this open like the others.
She approached the wall just beside at the edge of the light given off from the button. She saw a pad jutting out that looked like a scanner of some sort. She closed her eyes and she felt the woman from before, a ghostly whisper of a hand brushing against the pad—and as she exhaled there was a moment of clarity that showed a card grasped in her hand. Card identification. Where am I going to get something like that?
Her eyes widened as she instinctively turned to look over her shoulder. The glowing yellow horror spilled out of the door. First came its head and then an arm reaching skyward before arcing downward. The air around her immediately began to chill. The face inside the darkness phased in faintly and Allison knew where she’d find that card.
She turned on her heels and pulled the metal from her chest and formed the lance once more. She held her ground and slowed her breathing. She thumbed the edge of the lance and closed her eyes. In the darkness she saw the terrifying form of the creature—its hand made contact with the ground and it continued to sink even deeper within. It stopped at a joint and propped itself up. The figure in the darkness raised its head and a mound of hair fell as if it had just erupted from its dead scalp. Its cavernous eyes hooked into Allison’s gaze and she saw the gray eyes behind those holes—a tormented victim who wanted nothing more than to survive.
She felt a hotness emitting from the metal in her hands—the energy from the metals from the Red and Black Monoliths were resonating with the energy spilling from this foul creature and its captive. It was a hot pressure and it seemed unbearable.
Allison seemed to not breathe at all as she took ten steps forward—the lance extending with each step. She wound up with her stride grunted loudly as she thrusted the lance forward. Her weight was like a boulder beginning to shift down a hill—the momentum carried her movement as the lance shot toward the form. Like before, it could not pierce the shadowy presence of the form, but as it expanded to wrap around the metal like a magnet. She grinned, knowing that her plan had worked.
The metal glowed a bright white and she felt her essence burning and melding into the existence before her. If she couldn’t fight it out here—she’d have to go inside and see if she could somehow dispel it from within.
The world around her started to whirr and she heard the long silenced scream that she latched tightly onto. She opened her eyes and the form ahead of her was gone—she was alone on the bridge, and yet the lights were on and there was an electric hum ringing in the back of her ears.
The door in front of her slid open and in walked the woman she saw embedded in darkness. Allison stood frozen as the woman—near her own age and a short-cut brunette with those storm-gray eyes looked up at her not of fear or recognition, but of a startled confusion and the slightest tinge of hope. These were feelings that rushed Allison immediately as she pulled her name from the aether, the two of them staring at one another.
“Wynrie Herschel...that’s your name, isn’t it?” Allison asked.
Wynrie nodded almost imperceptibly. It was as if she had resumed living from whatever point this darkness had gotten a hold of her without any interruption. She didn’t vocalize her answer back, only the single nod.
“I think I’m here to save you and this ship.”
“Really? What are you, a sign from God or what?” Wynrie looked up to Allison with a now confused look on her face. “How do you know my name? Who are you? What is going on?”
Allison took a step back—holding her hands up in a defensive stance. “I can’t give you my name, unfortunately. I know how that sounds, but this isn’t real,” she motioned with her hands. “Of course, I mean this feeling of confusion right now—this state of being.”
“Real…?” Wynrie cocked her head. “This…” her eyes started darting all around her. “No...that can’t be. That isn’t right. This has to be real. I’m here. I’m feeling...I’m thinking.”
“I know this is tough, but I need your help. I wish I could help you—bring you back, but unfortunately that isn’t possible. There’s a monster here. It’s consumed you in darkness. I’m afraid your body is inside—rotting and changed. You are the remnants of your memory—not yet decayed.”
“Monster,” Wynrie repeated, as if it were the only thing she were capable of understanding. Considering the damage that had been done to her thought threads, Allison thought it was likely. “Yeah...that used to be one of the inhabitants here. His name was Robert Credonin. I think there was something here that took over—I don’t know what happened. The ship started breaking apart.”
Allison nodded, looking down to the ground then back up to her. “I think I need to go deeper.”
“Deeper? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“It’s okay, you will. Just give me a moment.” Allison closed her eyes and felt the energy of the monoliths, and the world around her started to shift. A part of her felt bad for the lie, but she needed Wynrie to feel at ease—or at least as close to the feeling as possible. Stress would further degrade what little chance she had to get this right. Darkness continued as she felt herself diving deeper within.
She opened her eyes and she was standing in front of a large building standing tall in Nevada. She was at the root of something big, but she knew frighteningly little at how big it was. On the side of the building read “SCIENTIA”.She smirked. It’s been a long time since she’s had to do something like this—she was glad that she still remembered how to do it. And...she was also glad that it didn’t seem so disastrous…She shook off the feeling and pushed her own memory down as she looked back up toward the building. Step one...she needed to find out where this ship’s mission went wrong.