Four years before the awakening of James Island

The laboratory lights changed from blue to red, signalling not only the start of the procedure, but also the beginning of the end. At least that was the dark thought that Dr. Tallas Radagan had. In their previous existence the walls had been an angelic white, though now appeared blood-soaked in the artificial ligh­t. Tallas couldn’t help but think he and his colleagues had begun their descent into hell.

A building apprehension churned within Tallas as he watched his colleagues finish their preparations. Under the corner bank of monitors, the long legs of Dr. Ihugov stretched out awkwardly as he completed his last-minute checks. Tallas noted how uncomfortably the engineer lay in his v-suit—a customised version of the brown metallic coveralls they all wore—with his backpack grinding on the hard floor. The Alhimoan’s wide flat shoes hid his webbed feet, though his scaled moss-green skin could be seen below his trouser hem.

The young Dr. Kessla, whom Tallas had only met the day before, worked behind the partition wall that extended half way across the room, keeping her away from the others. She checked the two balloon-like consoles that were hovering by the main machine, adjusting her glasses as she readied her equipment. Kessla had been referred to as a specialist in field containment. The division heads had assured them that Kessla’s Outer Reach equipment would contain the ensuing energy. Tallas just hoped that was true.

It was no secret that Tallas had been fearful of the procedure since the division heads of the Cyta Corporation first told him of its delicate nature. Although if Tallas had learned one thing from his professional years, it was that the most dangerous theories usually yielded the greatest advances. That, or they caused the biggest catastrophes.

“Doctor Radagan?” a hard voice said. Tallas turned to look upon the sharp features of Dr. Ofslow. The senior attendee’s strong jawline and the metallic sheen to his general sallow complexion often reminded Tallas of a mechanoid. Or perhaps the resemblance was in the doctor’s cold and abrasive manner, which often branded him as emotionless by some of his peers. A curt bedside manner, someone had once called it. “I said we’re ready for you.”

Tallas recovered from his thoughts. “Yes. Yes of course. Thank you, doctor.”

Dr. Ofslow’s dour face was dark and heavy in the red gloom of the room. He held his stern look a moment longer, a thousand computations at work behind his hooded eyes, before returning to his station. No doubt he’d noticed Tallas’s apprehension and uncertainty, and would surely mention it to their superiors afterwards, regardless of the procedure’s success.

A familiar sense of security relaxed Tallas’s shoulder as he approached his light-screens. At least these were something he could control and understand. His fingers moved through the screens as he set his levels and checked the readings. His main responsibility was to keep check of the stability of the crystal, and guide the experiment accordingly – but he just hoped the crystal would be able to be controlled the way they estimated.

He studied the large translucent crystal within the glass unit, positioned under the main machine. The crystal was surprisingly calm, as if it were allowing them to prod and play with it. A younger Tallas would have taken that as a godly sign, but today’s Tallas truly did not know what to make of it. The crystal emanated its usual faint aura that could never quite be seen directly; but when looking to its side, out of focus, the glowing aura was there. The crystal’s energy was so powerful that it couldn’t be touched with bare hands, which was a reminder it wasn’t meant for mortal men. Being so close to the crystal like this ignited a hunger within Tallas; a dark curiosity that fuelled his ambitions. Fuelled everything. Meant everything.

“All readings are stable,” Dr. Kessla said to the room.

“Confirmed,” Dr. Ofslow replied flatly, his eyes darting between his console monitor and the main machine. “Begin the cypher phase.”

It was almost time.

Beside the glass cabinet that contained the crystal was a table with the precious carcass. The ancient remains were mostly charred bone fragments and samples of corroded muscle tissue, hardly representing the man from legends they once were. Tallas morbidly wondered if their own remains would look similar, if they were found after this experiment failed. Stop that! He told himself. Keep being so pessimistic and you’ll risk ruining the procedure.

He could feel hidden eyes on him now, and couldn’t help but look up at the robed figure by the wall. An icy chill ran through Tallas as he acknowledged the presence of the Red Monk. Standing completely still by the wall, shrouded in heavy red robes, the monk’s face was hidden beneath a large cowl. The air around him was thicker, almost heat-hazed, as if he were emanating a kind of aura - like the crystal.

The heavy robes brought a tortured memory back to Tallas, reminding him of someone he’d been trying to forget for years now. You didn’t lose the flowers, you lost me. He turned back to his scre­­­­ens with a rising tension gripping his chest.

Something buzzed by Tallas’s head at that moment. The black sphere circled the unit holding the crystal while a second probe hovered near the far side of the room, showing the Seniors and Heads everything from the safety of a few million miles away.

“Ready on my mark,” someone said. It must have been Dr. Ofslow.

Are we there already? Tallas hadn’t realised the moment had come so soon, somehow hoping to fight off the inevitable with time.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Ofslow announced the initiation and pulled the lever on his wall console. The hanging main machine began to thrum, emitting a whining pitch.

Tallas anxiously read through the rapid streams of data on his screens. Ihugov’s golden eyes watched the main machine intently as he idly thumbed his control pads. Braced between the balloon consoles, Kessla’s right hand hovered over a portable multi-button in her left hand, fingers twitching and ready to begin stabilizing if needed. The monk remained as still as ever.

A hazy blue-white energy began to gather around the hanging machine, charging the air around it. A moment later, the energy erupted downwards into a thick beam, connecting with sensors that funnelled the power into the glass unit.

Wavy tendrils of energy reached out and groped at the crystal, gradually taking hold as it gathered strength, until the crystal became obscured in the light. The shimmering energy expanded out toward the scientists menacingly, searching for a victim. A fear-stricken Kessla pressed back against the half-partition as the energy came within inches of her, before gravitating back to the crystal.

A rivulet of sweat trailed down Tallas’s face, though he dared not remove his hands from his screens to wipe it. His readings were on target.

So fa­r so good.

He risked a glance at Dr. Ofslow and saw the man’s eyes had grown heavier with concern. Something about Ofslow’s scowl told him there was a problem. Tallas shot his eyes between his screens and the doctor’s expression, trying to read both. Perhaps the theories of inanimate cell fusion and transference were wrong? The remains on the table held no answers - yet.

Tallas’s screens didn’t reveal any errors, or any positive readings. Maybe the procedure had—

The tube above Ofslow’s console burst powerfully, throwing him across the room and sending out a shower of sparks. A howling wind expelled from the hole; papers and apparatus swirled and crashed around the furious wind. Their own contained tornado.

Someone called out, though the words were inaudible. A disorientating ringing accompanied the sounds that soon returned to Tallas. He realised the muffled boom that now pounded was an alarm sounding.

A light-screen had disconnected from his hand, but he didn’t need it to see the machine was no longer sustaining the energy. He shielded his eyes as he looked on at his damnation.

Kessla was sprinting across the room. Tallas thought the woman was fleeing, before he saw her shove Ihugov aside and frantically punch in commands on his console. The booming alarm grew louder by the second. Or perhaps Tallas’s hearing was improving.

A probe-cam fought against the wind as it wavered by, drawing Tallas’s eye through the maelstrom to Dr. Ofslow. The dishevelled man had recovered and fought against the wind. Shockingly, he moved toward the main machine. Taking another heavy step, he reached out to open the glass cabinet. Toward the crystal.

What is he doing? Isn’t anyone going to stop him? Would someone—the monk! Where is the monk? Tallas froze in terror when he saw the empty wall where the monk had stood. He scanned the room frantically, but no red robes could be seen. The monk had left them when they needed him the most.

A fierce heat washed over Tallas as Ofslow lifted the cabinet window. The doctor’s silhouette was stained against the torrential waves of blinding light flowing around him, his backpacked suit forming a large and monstrous shadow. Tallas couldn’t comprehend his actions. Without the crystal absorbing the energy, the beam would tear a hole through the room and surely rip through the hull, sucking them all into the infinite blackness of space. Everyone else on the ship would be evacuating right now, not daring to enter the chaotic room.

Fear and adrenaline pushed Tallas across the room, his legs stronger than ever. As Ofslow reached toward the glowing crystal, Tallas threw himself against him and sent them both to the ground in a rolling heap.

Ofslow let out an otherworldly scream; a near match for the howling wind. Tallas looked on incredulously as black smoke drifted through the air. Ofslow must have touched the crystal. His hands had turned charcoal-black and were now flaking in the wild wind like burnt paper.

The crystal, to Tallas’s great relief, was still held in place, sensors undisturbed. Ofslow’s screams were inhuman, his black hands falling away in a charred mess, a bone jutting from one of his stumps.

Tallas pushed himself to his feet, searching frantically through the storm, looking for a way to stop the beam.

Where the hell was their supposed protector?

Kessla pushed buttons on Ihugov’s console; the Alhimoan doctor was nowhere to be seen. Tallas fought against the wind and approached the specialist, hoping to find that Kessla knew how to contain the energy.

“Kessla!” he called out, but his colleague didn’t respond. He dared not touch the doctor while she worked for fear of interrupting an important procedure.

A series of small sparks flew from the edges of the console Kessla worked on. Soon after, the monitor exploded with a powerful burst that knocked both scientists to the floor.

The room was dark and silent for a moment.

Regaining his senses, Tallas saw flames spewing from the monitor’s casing that were spreading along the workstation. The wind was no match for the flames, however, and the heat instantly smothered Tallas.

Kessla lay nearby, splayed out on her backpack. Her arms and legs were spread out, glass shards studding her shocked, bloodied face. The horrifying image struck Tallas with frightening familiarity, like an echo from the past. You didn’t lose the flowers, you lost me. Reeling from the sight, he dropped his head in defeat. He prodded his forehead where there was a stinging sensation and his fingers came back covered in dark blood.

An inactive probe-cam rolled alongside him, leaving a trail of blood it had likely passed through on the ground. Tallas wondered whose blood that was. Pain and exhaustion overwhelmed him, his head throbbing and muscles weakening. The world began to fade.

The thrum of the energy beam suddenly shifted, and the hanging machine began to convulse violently. Tallas scrambled to his feet with renewed adrenaline, almost stumbling back in the process. If he didn’t act now, and make the right choice, he would be killed along with everyone else left on the ship.

With a booming snap, the funnel broke loose and threw rods and cables out to join the maelstrom. Now the beam had disconnected from the magnetising sensors, it inched through the room, incinerating all it touched.

Tallas froze as the beam changed course - towards him! The pulsing energy tore through the station beside the glass unit, devouring the ancient remains, and continued its path of destruction toward him.

His face contorted into the pained grimace of a person who knew he was about to die. In that moment, Tallas saw the futility of his whole life and, he realised, he didn’t want to die. He still had so much he wanted to do; to see the people he wanted to see again. But not wanting to die didn’t matter. Everything meant nothing now. Everything that led him to this point had all meant nothing.

His interest in medicine, which led to his path through ancient godly artefacts, had only been the beginning of his journey into death.

The beam tore through the floor as it searched for him. In the instant Tallas felt its incredible power close in, something large and forceful fell onto him. Red robes covered his view as the world filled with a searing light that burned everything into nothingness, leaving Tallas with one lingering thought: You didn’t lose the flowers, you lost me.