Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Whittaker, Maxx

  “Hit him,” she shouts.” Don’t stop, Sam!”

  I’m happy to oblige. The middle statue is standing, and despite being made of some metal I can’t identify, his movements are fluid.

  I aim at its head this time.

  The shield comes up faster than before and again it takes the impact without breaking. The statue lunges against the impact, slowed but not stopping.

  Time to stop experimenting, fucking around. The statues are halfway to us and I haven’t taken one down.

  Mika’s staff radiates above me, its crystal a glowing ember at the edge of my vision. It’s comforting, somehow. I know she’s got my back. She’ll figure the magic out.

  The statues reach full stride, pounding up dust clouds. I fire as fast as I can pull the trigger, one shot on top of the next. The statue takes them on its battered shield, somehow still pushing on, but with each shattering explosion, its protection is ruined more and more until it finally melts off its arm in a pile of hissing slag.

  My next bullet takes it in the face. Two more follow. The statue staggers on even as its head melts. “Really?” I fire over and over, heat radiating from my barrel. At last the statue falls to its knees, top half gone.

  The other statues slow as I beat the middle one down, halting entirely when it falls. There’s a long moment as it lays hissing, melting sand to glass beneath. Its body dissolves, evaporating away in a black mist like diesel exhaust.

  “Yes!” Mika shouts. “One down, and the others aren’t –” The other six jerk, arrange their formation. Their first step is timed to seventh misting away.

  “They’re free!”

  Mika turns on me. “What?”

  “When the broken one disappears, it doesn’t hold them back!”

  I turn to the next one, firing as fast as I can pull the trigger. My rifle doesn’t seem to need ammo, which I’d be pretty pumped about if six statues with black blades slashing weren’t bearing down on us.

  Mika utters something low and even as another statue goes down, throwing blobs of molten metal into the sand. But it’s too slow, too late; the others are almost on us, and it takes too many rounds to take each of them down.

  “What’s that?” Mika shouts over the crack and whine of my bullets as I fire over and over into the next statue in line. Bullets smash into him, tearing his shield away with a lucky ricochet, and like that, another one of them dies, melting even as its legs keep trying to fight its way to us.

  “What?” I ask, taking aim for the fourth in line. I’m too late, they’re so close, and I shout, stumbling back. I fall into Mika, and we tumble off the dais in a tangle of limbs and weapons.

  Untangling takes a few seconds that feel way too long. They’re coming. Any second…

  But we’re not dead. And we continue not being dead.

  I have to look.

  The statues are frozen, and the dais isn’t lit.

  I struggle up and pull Mika with me. “I think we have to stand up there for them to come after us?”

  Her laugh is a little crazy. “So, let’s just kill them all. Or better yet, sneak past them?”

  “No such luck.” Our exit stands across the arena floor. Handprints glow in the dim tunnel, beckoning.

  From behind pitted steel bars.

  “Dammit,” Mika swears. “Okay. We have to kill them. At least they aren’t coming after us right now .”

  “Yeah.” I take aim at an unprotected head. I want to say something badass, some action movie line or something, but all I can think of is Hasta la Vista, Baby and that’s too cheesy, even if Mika is nerdy as hell.

  So, I just fire.

  I feel the impact of my shot in my teeth.

  It does nothing.

  “Dammit.” I fire twice more but the bullets dissipate as soon as they hit, accomplishing jack shit.

  Mika deflates. “So, no cheating. We have to go back up there.”

  FIVE MINUTE WARNING

  Of course.

  Something tugs at my mind, forgotten in the chaos. “What did you mean when you said, “What’s that?”

  “Oh! On your gun.” She points opposite the safety.

  I rotate the rifle. There’s another switch with two more symbols. “Damn. How did I not notice this before?”

  “Not very observant,” she agrees.

  “I can not believe you’re sassing me right now.”

  “You’ll be okay.”

  “For the moment. Let’s see what this does.” Like the safety, this new switch has two settings. One is a thin line with a diamond crossing it. Ice? The other is pie shaped, a wide arc with a lightning bolt in its center.

  “Oh, hell yes. If this does what I think… Get behind me.”

  “You always say that,” she grumbles, shuffling past in a way guaranteed to make me notice her backside.

  “Because your wizard stick can’t shoot fire.”

  Mika smirks. “Not yet .”

  I aim at the statues for good measure, flicking the new switch. The LEDs along its length pulse bright blue.

  I pray that I’m not wrong about this, and fire.

  The concussion is titanic, a massive explosion of lightning and energy that tears the air ahead of me apart. It’s astounding, terrifying, and I stumble back into Mika’s arms with a shout of surprise.

  She holds me for a moment as my heart stops trying beat its way out of my chest. “Holy… Holy shit.” That was more powerful than I expected. Or was ready for.

  Mika’s voice is low with malice. “Let's get back on that dais.”

  “Yeah, but did you notice? Almost no range on that. Scary as fuck but it only travelled ten feet.”

  “That’s all we need,” she says, circling the statues. Her bare feet whisk through the sand as she points to a spot with two of them in close proximity. “If you stand there and fire here, you’ll kill two scary birds with one giant stone.”

  “What about the other two?”

  “They’re a few feet off. If you brace, you can turn and fire again quickly, and hit them, too.”

  “Wow.”

  “Trigonometry. I was a mathlete.”

  I can’t argue with math I can’t pronounce but I still weigh the logistics. Blades hang in the bright sun, hungry. But based on how fast they charged before, they’re at least ten seconds from the dais.

  Enough time?

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I say with a lot more confidence than I feel.

  I mount the dais first and get into position. Crouched low, I steady myself. “Okay, ready.”

  Mika stares at her staff for a moment before looking up. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I know you will.”

  She steps on the dais and it ignites again.

  The statues rush like they never stopped, boots churning trenches in the sand. Their swords are poised above us ready to descend.

  I fire.

  The first two attackers vaporize, blown to smithereens by the concussion. Fragments rain back in a deadly hailstorm.

  God damn. She was right.

  I don’t have time to celebrate. I pivot and fire again.

  Nothing happens. There’s a low whine from my rifle and the LEDs flicker. That’s it.

  Ah hell. It has to recharge.

  “Back!” I shout, trying to pull Mika from the dais. I’m too late. They’re so close I can see my reflection in a shield.

  Its sword comes down like a guillotine, aimed for Mika’s head.

  I drop my rifle and shove her out of the way.

  The blade slices through my arms at the bicep, cutting through them like hot butter.

  I scream, falling as my blood spurts across the sand and my severed limbs thud next to me. The agony is immediate, consuming, like nothing I’ve ever felt.

  This can’t be happening. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

  The longest twenty seconds of my life pass while brain careens from thought to blind animal panic. I flail out, try to reach my arms over and over. I can’t understand w
hy I’m not grabbing them.

  That they’re gone.

  Mika…

  The thought punches through a haze of pain that’s already fading into something like shock. My vision dims at the edges, blackening, trying to take me away.

  No.

  Have to help… Mika…

  I clench my eyes so tight they strain against my eyeballs. I force them open, sure my last sight will be her lying dead next to me.

  Mika stands above me, protecting me, screaming her defiance at a statue who stands above her, readying for a strike meant to end her. Her staff is a long column of flame, and the gem at its head blazes like a miniature sun.

  Where’s the other statue? The one that took my arms? I crane my head. The effort is too much. My heart races even as my blood seems to cool.

  But I get one glimpse before I collapse. The statue lays at her feet, torn to shreds. She killed it? How?

  Doesn’t matter. The last statue towers above her, almost twice her height. Its blade comes down, a scythe of obsidian, a cut that I’m sure will split her in half.

  Come on, Mika. Come on. I want to shout encouragement, buoy her, let her know that I believe she can save us. I don’t have enough breath.

  When the sword hits her staff, its blade explodes into fragments. Pieces rain down on Mika’s face and chest. She cries out but doesn’t relent. She brings her hands together at the base of her staff and grips it like a baseball bat.

  The statue raises its shield to hammer her down, and Mika swings. The gem in her staff impacts the statue’s torso.

  It detonates. Metal rains down, practically liquified.

  Mika screams in fear and triumph as her enemy falls.

  I try to reach for her and groan.

  She falls to her knees beside me. “Sam! Oh shit, Sam!” Tears stream down her face as she takes in stumps, still pumping my lifeblood onto the dais. “Oh God, Sam. Oh no… Please Sam… Help. This is so bad, so bad… What do I do?”

  “Blood,” I croak. “Losing…blood.”

  “Right, shit.” She casts about helplessly. “I can’t… there’s no cloth, no–”

  “Staff.” My vision is so dim. I can barely focus on her.

  “My staff? What?”

  “Cauterize.”

  “That will kill you!”

  Can she see my look? Is my face still capable of sarcasm?

  “Right.” She lifts her staff, breathing so fast she must be close to hyperventilating. “I’m sorry.”

  I want to ask, ‘for what,’ but my mouth won’t move anymore.

  She touches the gem to my wound.

  The pain is white hot, a thousand times worse than when the statue cut me. I want to scream, to beg her to stop, but nothing works.

  My vision goes black, and the last thing I consciously recognize is the stench of burnt flesh.

  I come to what must be moments later. Mika’s arms crush my chest, and she drags me across the sands of the arena toward the exit sobbing and cursing in English and Japanese. My thoughts come from a long way away, distant things I can barely hold onto. When did she get so strong?

  The dais dwindles behind me, barely visible through my slit eyes. My arms still rest back there, along with my rifle.

  Going to need that , I think.

  “Arm,” I croak. “Arm.”

  She stops dragging. “Oh, thank god. I thought you were dead.” Her tears fall between us, wetting my face.

  “Not… Yet…” I wince as she pulls us along. There’s something important. “Arms.”

  “What?”

  “Display,” I manage.

  “Shit! Your hand!” Mika rests me against the wall of the tunnel and dashes off, back to the dais. It’s not far but it feels like miles. She’s gone for so long I could sleep. Just close my eyes and–

  I jerk my head to the side. The bars blocking the door are gone, must have disappeared when Mika killed the laste statue. The timer above the door reads: 00:01:22… 00:01:21…

  Hurry, Mika. Hurry.

  She grabs me on her return pass, dragging me over sand and pebbles, raking a cauterized stump along the marble and sending fresh agony into my brain like a spike. I try to push it away, help her, but can barely stumble along. “Come on!” she yells over her shoulder. “Thirty seconds!”

  When she reaches the door, she wrestles my severed limb onto the scanner. I can only watch helpless and insensate, leaning against the door until she has it right.

  She palms the other plate, and the door evaporates. Slowly evaporates.

  Did time run out? I didn’t hear the chime. Is the Shepherd coming?

  I don’t know, can’t care anymore.

  “Come on, Sam! We’re so close!” Her cry comes from a great distance. Is she helping me? Am I moving?

  There’s a vague sense of resistance and then it gives way. The door must be open.

  I hope she grabs my arms before it closes.

  9

  Convalescence Field 3

  Aspirant #2239

  Room Timer: 00:10:00

  Blissfully, I’m unconscious for most of my healing.

  Images run through my mind rampantly, a mishmash of memory and sensation. Mika, standing above me, Inferno ablaze like a sun as she fights off the statues. My mother, singing ZZ Top as she combs my hair, her voice rough but comforting. Mika, stabbing the orc in the eye, shrieking her fear as she saves my life. Amy, or was it Jen, walking in the door drunk and smelling like someone else’s cigarette smoke. Mika, dangling over a pit of flame as she crawls up my arm, eyes never leaving mine. My father, ruffling my hair as he walked out the door to get cigarettes for the last time. Mika, clothes plastered to her wet body, staring at me in a challenge. Mika’s hand in mine. Mika’s little smile when she named her staff.

  Mika.

  “You’re awake.”

  I groan as consciousness floods me. I try to jerk up, crying out. My arms. Where are they? Mika. Is she safe?”

  Something bands my chest, keeps me from rising. “Shhh. Shhh. You’ve had a shitty couple of hours. Just relax.”

  Mika. Her mouth is close to my ear, her words a warm whisper. I’m on the floor, laying on my back, and she rests against me, face snuggled over my shoulder, one arm and leg thrown across me. Her body is warm against mine, delicious comfort.

  I turn my head, take her in from inches away.

  Her mouth is so close I can feel her smile. “I thought I lost you.”

  “Not yet,” I say, wincing at lingering pain. “Won’t get rid of me that easy.”

  She comes closer, if that’s possible, nuzzling me. Her touch is electric, pulls me fully awake. “Good. I want so much more of this.”

  “Mika!” I laugh, and then immediately regret it. “What happened to the shy girl I met a few hours ago? The one that could barely look me in the eye when we talked?”

  She shrugs almost imperceptibly. “It’s this place. Sam, until today, I’ve never been this close to a boy. Never kissed one, or even really spoke to one at length. I went to al all girl’s school, have never been to a party. I… Now…” She silent a long time. I don’t move, don’t dare break this spell, want to feel her breathing against my body forever. “Now, I’ve fought. Killed. Saved your life, had my life saved by you. Fought with you. Trusted you, even though I barely know you. I don’t know.” Her breath is fast, hot, delicious. “I don’t know who that girl is anymore. She’s still inside me, somewhere. But this…”

  “I know.” One of my arms rests under her, my bicep her pillow. I run my hand down her back, a long, slow movement that pulls the cloth of her shirt taut. “I feel like I’ve spent the last day running and almost dying and fighting and flopping between being terrified and incredible. But I love it. It feels…” I trail off. It’s too cheesy to say.

  She saves me. “Like you’ve never felt more alive?”

  I laugh weakly. “Yeah. Like that.”

  “I know. But it’s more than that.”

  “Yeah, Mika. It’s you. You’re
right, I don’t know you. Not really. But at the same time, I feel like I do. More than anyone I’ve never known. And what I’ve learned, I really, really love. I wouldn’t go back. To my old life.” I swallow. Hard. “Because of you.”

  Her lips are warm at my ear. The tiniest kiss, a promise. “I know.” Then she laughs. “There’s something about going through multiple fucking traumatic experiences with someone that kinda makes little details like ‘what’s your favorite food’ trivial.”

  “Hot dogs with peanut butter.”

  She pulls back. “What? Gross!”

  “Just kidding. Pizza. Boring, I know.”

  Her voice is wistful. “My mother’s miso soup. Equally boring, culturally.”

  Orange pulses above us, and with each long thrum, my body strengthens. It feels like getting an incredible night’s sleep after doing the iron man, and it happens in moments while I’m still awake.

  I raise my hand, blissfully attached to an arm that’s attached to my shoulder. I stretch my fingers, snap a few times. It feels… Normal. Not weird or ghostly at all. But the memory… Dark metal, flashing down. The wet bite and crunch as it cut through my muscle and bone.

  And pain. So much pain.

  I push the memories aside, though not fully. I’m not sure I ever can. I’ll have a lot to sort through when my mind stops reeling.

  I stretch my arm, flexing sore muscles. “Incredible.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I turn, bump noses with her. “What?”

  “I pulled your arms through when the door opened, and the whole time I’m like, How the fuck does this work? Do I hold them to the stumps? I was pretty freaked.”

  “And?”

  “And after a few moments, they disappeared. Gone.” She shakes her head. “And then your arms started regrowing. ”

  “Uh. Regrowing?” Are they my arms? Did I get arms from some spare parts bin? “What if they’re not mine, like when the Robot Devil gets Fry’s hands and they want to jerk off all the time?”

  Mika laughs until she snorts. “I don’t know, or how to explain it. It was like watching one of those old claymation movies, or something. Your bones extended from the stumps, like tree roots in fast forward. Forearms, then hands and fingers. Then tissue and muscle stretched across them, forming in time with the glow from the lights. Then skin and fingernails. It was gross.”