by Dan O'Brien
The amphitheater that served as the meeting place for the council no longer resembled architecture. The roof was caved in and the walls were blackened and burnt. The leading walkway was covered in dark stains; blood, no doubt, that had soaked into the earth staining it for all eternity.
The sculpted greenery that had lined the entrance – grand trees and bushes covered in aromatic buds and voracious flowers – were no more than roots and dying shrubs, their growth having been stifled along with the rest of Garefe.
Xzin’s forces had leveled the city, and eventually the entirety of Verdule. The lush environment had been snuffed out by constant strikes from space, the pulse cannons laying waste to even the jagged images of the mountains on the horizon. The few survivors of the merciless bombings fled to outer rim planets, hiding as far away from Baldor and Xzin as possible.
The double doors that led into the amphitheater were cracked and torn, lying at obtuse angles. She placed her gloved hand against them and pushed with her entire body, her muscles screaming in anger and pain.
The door did not budge.
The woman sighed in frustration, her mouth pursed and her eyes shut in contemplation. The wind had picked up since she first landed on the world, and the howl was like a beast from beyond, feral screeching that assaulted the shadowy mask that covered her face, the exposed coils and compressors ravaged by debris in the gales.
She unbuckled her strap and brandished the repeating blaster, the barrel wavering in the wind and her hands shaking beneath the pressure. The bluish blast splattered against the doors and held for a moment, heating them to a deep red before exploding the crushed steel inward.
She stepped across the threshold and fell in place with the darkness within, shadows dancing in the wind and winding hallways that led deeper into the once-hallowed sanctum. Her footfalls echoed in the solitude, and she could hear distant scratching and growls, scavenger beasts, no doubt the only inhabitants remaining on Verdule.
“Anyone here?” Her words echoed in the halls, and she could hear the distorted version of her voice careening into the deeper places of the tomb. She raised her right hand to her left forearm and depressed a series of controls along the bio-suit. The responding clicks and whirls sounded ridiculous in the fallen pillar of society.
“The oxygen level is sufficient for human respiration. There is a .000009 percentile of remaining toxins. Tech scans reveal a functioning generator attempting to regulate the air supply within the structure. The cracked roof has diminished the efficiency of the device.” The automated voice was poignant at best, and the female voice sounded no more human than the computer whirls and blips that accompanied her diatribe.
“It is safe to disengage filtration units?”
“Affirmative. The probability of an airborne toxin avoiding the scan is less than ten thousandth of a percent. Proceed with detachment of filtration system.”
The hiss of the filtration mask decompression echoed in the dismal halls, sounding like the release of a thousand serpents. The cloud of carbon gas dispersed into the atmosphere quickly and the wearer shook her head, trying as best she could to shake them off.
She had changed her features as soon as she had left this world more than a decade ago, her dark black hair and gray eyes surgical implants. She missed the defining features that had attracted Damon all of those years ago. The thick black curls framed the same sharp features, but lines of scars and burns gave her a dark appearance that she had come to embrace.
The black goggles changed the hall to varying shades of orange, the solid objects taking on a darker, denser appearance. Gaseous and translucent forms were of a much lighter shade. She moved, her right hand gripping the blaster loosely and her left hand raised slightly, a thin crimson web cruising in front of her.
“Warning. Seven unidentified thermal forms approaching from the west.” The automated voice was as sterile as before, not conveying the gravity of the situation.
An identical blaster emerged from a compartment along the left leg of her suit, and she brought the weapon up to shoulder height. She tapped the right side of her goggles and a clear blue rectangle swept across the visor, erupting into lines of statistics in yellow.
“What do we have on them? Everything on Verdule should be catalogued and processed, there are no unknowns here.” A noticeable edge seeped into her voice. Sweat beaded along her hairline, and she could feel a flush of heat pass over her body.
“There are now seventeen unidentified thermal forms. Approximate size seventy kilograms, no more than a meter in length or height. Composition is a gaseous/solid combination.”
The woman shook her head; her dark curls flashing in her range of vision as she did so. She moved quickly now, her pace a light trot.
“Where are they now? Still approaching from the west?”
She could hear scratching now; ragged growls were much closer than before. She could almost feel their presence. The hair on the nape of her neck rose and a flash of goose bumps ran down her arms and lower back. Their growls turned into high-pitched screeching before she saw them.
There were more than two dozen – with solid yellow eyes and razor claws – in the mist. They were blocking her entrance into the amphitheater. Their forms were translucent like a gas, but arms hung limply at their sides and the thin claws scratched at the floor. She ran now, her legs churning with newfound energy. She regulated her breathing, not wanting to cripple what little chance that she had.
The creatures moved along the walls, their legs seemingly nonexistent and their eyes staring coldly after her. Their claws sparked against the curved metal along the walls. Their numbers seemed to grow exponentially as they moved.
She looked over her shoulder for a moment and felt her leg slam into something hard, sending her into a spin against the retaining wall, ending up head over feet into a pile of rubble. Her bio-suit squealed as she slid along the floor. Her visor crackled and the creatures converged on her in an unearthly way.
She brought the blasters up as she slid along the floor and opened fire, the bluish energy leaping from the barrel and slamming into the tumbling forms of the shadowy creatures, their dark bodies heating and then exploding into balls of gas and flame. The wall of rubble jarred her aim and the clear blue of the visor crackled once more and then dissipated, plunging the room back into the orange glow from the goggles.
The point of a claw pierced the outer hull of her armor. She snapped her legs up and her body followed, her guns still gripped tightly. The torn pieces of her suit spit sparks and dangled loosely, banging against her as she moved. Blue energy shot from her blaster in random, concentric patterns, sending the shadowy creatures into screaming piles of gas and flesh against the walls and shattered remains of the hallway.
“Report external damage,” barked the woman to her onboard computer. She rubbed her hands and grimaced; the flesh had been burnt and torn from sliding across the steel floors. The black fabric of the gloves had disintegrated and her bruised and bleeding palms had absorbed the majority of the friction burn.
“External bio-suit at eighty-nine percent capability. Internal networking at one hundred percent. Thermal scans running at thirty-seven percent; a repair is necessary. Weapons systems running at one hundred percent.”
The automated voice crackled a bit as it rattled statistics. The wiring was, no doubt, damaged in some way. A loose flap dangled off of her chest and ripped off easily as she gripped it and tossed the worthless piece into the rubble around her. She turned and viewed the wall of rubble she had crashed into. Immediately to the left was an automated door with a faded label that read: control room. She pushed the glowing red button, and the gray door remained closed.
“Computer, disengage lock immediately.” A thin, cylindrical component leapt from her left arm and inserted itself into the control board of the automated door. It glowed and spun; the whirs and beeps an attempt to open the wayward door.
“Lock disengaged,” responded the automated voice.
“This is the series eleven map finder. How may I be of assistance?” The automated voice was that of an older man. She visualized a thin, ghastly gentleman with thick glasses and a slight limp.
“Individual locator series, location of Fael Damon.” The computer whirred inconsistently, the blue sphere flexing and contracting, blazing a bright blue and then melting into an iridescent green.
“Confidential information. Voice clearance required. Please state name and position to access information.” The gentle elderly voice seemed unfettered by the intrusion, yet the woman raised her clenched fist all the same, shaking it at the machine and lowering her head in defeat.
“Ambassador Erinana of the federated planet of Nemodtia,” replied the woman, her gray eyes cold beneath the black frames.
“Voice verification confirmed. Welcome, Erinana of Nemodtia. The current location of Councilman Fael Damon is unknown, last known location was his residence on Verdule three kilometers west of Garefe.”
The image of the planet blinked and then clicked off, plunging the room into darkness. The woman once known as Erinana felt the darkness in her soul. She had journeyed back to a place that had once shown her great hope, but much like the rest of her life, had eventually brought misery and defeat. This was not the end of the road she had hoped for. One more path needed to be walked and she would do so. Regaining a lost life is the journey of the dead and dying.
* * * * *
The chromium ship rested alone in the clearing, its silver coat reflecting the shine of the moon. It cast an eerie glow upon the two silhouettes standing before it. Night fell as the two of them made their way from the arena as pursuing security forces attempted to impede their escape.
“I can’t thank you enough,” began Vaughn, searching through his pockets to find the payment he had stored for his savior. “I wasn’t sure you would show, but I guess you proved you are true to your word.”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“About the payment, I don’t think I have it; I can’t remember where I placed it.” The man’s face showed internal anguish.
“Don’t worry about payment,” she replied, pressing a clear blue button on her bio-suit. The vessel’s atmospheric hatch burst forth in its usual fashion, and a thin, metallic ramp extended to the ground, digging hard into the vegetation. She turned away from the man and paced toward her ship; not wanting to look back upon another fallen hero of the State, but Vaughn reached out a hand and tried to stop her.
“What do you mean?”
“Commander Vaughn, there was a time, many years ago, when it was my duty to save lives. That time has passed, and when I look upon your broken dreams I realize that to abandon justice is no better than being a soulless killer like Falcone.”
“This just means so much to me.”
“I understand that, and to that end I am glad I could be of service, but I really must go. There will be more pursuers and it would be best if we were safely off-world in opposite directions.”
“That’s fine, but I can’t let you go without saying thank you. My daughter, my wife, that bastard took them away from me. If you ever need someone, for anything at all, I will be at your service.”
Vaughn looked away, tears welling in his aged eyes. He searched for the words that conveyed the wealth of the things that she had done for him.
“You have no debt to repay. This was my duty. I cannot let men like Falcone continue to take innocent lives.”
“I don’t even know your real name.”
“Starhawk is name enough. I, too, lost someone very dear to me. I share your pain. Peace be with you.” With those words, she turned and stalked up the ramp, sealing the atmospheric hatch behind her. Mela disengaged her suit and slumped into the pilot’s seat, closing her eyes as the computer registered the automated liftoff sequence and careened into the blackness of space.
Vaughn stared after the fading ship, knowing that the woman who had saved his soul had seen and experienced things that would harden any person. He was thankful he had found her.
He could now join his family in the Void.
A smile spread across his face, the tears of acceptance and joy pooling quickly. He brought the blaster to his mouth and inserted the barrel as far as it would go before pulling the trigger, the resounding blast knocking him to the ground. He was with his family, once again.
* * * * *
The ship floated effortlessly in space and the forward thrusters barely pulsed as if it was a leisurely ride in the park for passengers. Haki, or as she was known years ago, Mela Alvarez, sat in the cockpit dreaming of days when she wasn’t on the run. As she let her mind slip away, she remembered the day she became a vigilante; the day the fates had decided her path.
An indicator light went off on the dash and Mela woke from her dream state. She surveyed the rapidly approaching image of the water planet, Naulad. The Trandolian Mountains wove a clear path across the planet, and the light of the casino drew her like a beacon as it had a decade before. She lowered her approach and flew beneath the guest landing platforms down into the hidden hangar bay beneath the casino.
Once the ship was docked properly, Mela strode toward the repulsors lift and punched floor four on the keypad. The lift shuddered trying to gain momentum.
The casino had grown considerably over the past ten years. Heiko’s office was no longer on the second floor. The lift indicator went off and the doors opened with a whoosh. Two female guards stood on either side of the doors, assault rifles held against their shoulders. Mela strode forward and sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of Heiko’s desk. His back was to her. He gazed out upon the empire he had created. Finally, he spun to meet Mela’s gaze with his characteristic grin spread across his aging features.
“Haki, my dear. How did it go on Fasen Major?” He took a long sip of the same golden liquid he always served.
“You should have told me he was going to be so disgusting. All he did was drink and spoil himself, but killing him did feel good.” Over the past few years, Mela had grown to enjoy her job, eliminating scum from the universe.
“I thought it best not to mention his gluttonous nature. I do recognize that you abhor self-indulgent types much like myself.” The boyish grin seemed to come naturally, his features in perfect alignment with one another.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You may be an egotistical megalomaniac with a lust for beautiful women and wealth, but you aren’t that self-indulgent,” replied Mela, trying to retain a serious look.
She knew all too well that Heiko created a pleasant happiness in her, although it could never fill the void that had been created when Rider died.
“Yet you continue to decline my advances; spurned by the woman who complements my soul so well,” laughed Heiko. He had known Mela, though as Haki, for the better part of a decade and yet so much of her remained a shrouded mystery to him.
So many aspects of her past were locked away.
“Enough. I took care of Falcone and extracted Vaughn from the hostile position he put himself in.”
“I hope it did not upset your delicate nature to have to baby-sit the commander,” chided Heiko, his legs crisscrossed upon his desk and his body reclining in the plush chair.
“There was a bit of miscommunication of sorts.”
“And that would be?”
“He didn’t have the payment upon assassination.”
“What?” replied Heiko, his grin disappearing. He sent his fist smashing into the desk. “We are not a charitable organization. You can’t keep doing this, Haki.”
He knew better than to invoke her anger and forced himself to return to his seat. He knew ho
w powerful and incredibly dangerous the woman could be when angered.
“I had to. Vaughn was an absolute mess. Falcone’s men murdered his family: his wife and his young daughter. I couldn’t be so heartless as to demand payment for killing a man who so deserved to die.”
“I am thankful that you are not my financial advisor. I would be quite broke by now.” He sighed in resignation. “Please do your best to charge our customers from now on.”
“Yeah, no problem.” She spoke without conviction.
“I have another job for you right here in the casino – a political target, Baldorian.”
“That’s pretty risky these days considering the sanctions and cruelty the Baldorian government would inflict for killing one of their own. Where is the dossier?”
Heiko slid a folder across the table, and Mela snatched it up as quickly as possible, knowing this was a job she would not enjoy. Heiko made many enemies in his dealings, and not all of them were terrible people.
She opened the pale folder and memorized the target’s face. The facial structure reminded her of Rider, but facial hair hid the distinct features. “I’ll take care of it.” Mela stood up and left his office, hoping that one day she could live a normal life.
“The fires of the righteous shall be extinguished tonight, and we shall burn their miserable corpses upon the pyres to which they light their faith.”
-The words of Darmon Hutchen after his possession
The storm echoed across the land. A lone man crashed through the woods, something sinister at his heels. He ran full speed through the dense brush as if the devil himself were following close behind. He came to an abrupt stop, frozen in his tracks by some mysterious, intangible force.
He turned slowly and looked at the overgrowth he had just cleared. To continue would be to plunge a great distance down a rocky ledge. To remain would be to meet his executioner. Lightning struck and thunder rolled. The footfalls of his pursuer were coming closer. He felt like an animal when its hunters have crept close, a dull thud within his chest.