Now, the future was uncertain. Everything seemed shaded and in doubt. Would killing Cris in any capacity actually have any real effect on anything? She couldn’t go on like this, killing so many innocents – her heart just couldn’t take it anymore. If there was one thing Kimberley Stefánsson had taught her, it was to see the reality of her actions from an outsider’s perspective. Somebody not caught up in her solitary, obsessive nightmare.
Is it worth it?
Am I not killing more than Damarus ever did during his time…?
Even if I did destroy him now, if I destroy this Eidolon… who could save the countless billions who died as a direct result of my selfish actions across space and time?
Who is the monster now…?
“Pull the trigger?”
“Don’t pull the trigger?”
Chen’s mind has been in pieces for some time, with both ends of her conscience pulling in opposite directions, never agreeing or meeting each other half way. Her mind was on the brink of fracture, racked with the guilt of her actions, the blood on her hands.
Beyond redemption…
“Am I overreacting? I am a mass murderer!”
She pressed the pistol upwards against her chin, swallowing hard, fighting the urge to wretch. This was really happening; Lorelei Chen’s life had now boiled down to a simple binary choice, and she was approaching the point of no return. It was crunch time.
“Ten…”
“Nine…”
The New Year countdown had started on the street below as Chen gripped the pistol tighter, breaking out in a cold sweat as she veered closer towards pulling the trigger. Courage built in her as she weighed up her options, condemning herself over and over for every poor choice, every mistake she had made throughout her life. Memories of being raped by Lenton flashed through her mind, followed by the day she had murdered him with a knife, and she played out the night of Cris’ death repeatedly. Again, she had murdered him. The heartache, the pain. Machiko’s death aboard the Retribution. The deaths of everybody she had ever been close to. Her mother and father. In the end, everyone went away, but still the reason was the same; she was solely to blame for her own misery.
“Eight…”
“Seven…”
She thought again of the billions who had died as a direct result of her actions. Fathers, mothers, and their children.
Billions.
She wanted nothing more than to die, to release herself from these mortal chains and to join those loved ones wherever they may be. Were they now in Heaven? She couldn’t even be sure of that. Her spiritual beliefs had never really recovered from the vacuous pit that had formed in her soul after the collapse of the One Religion. She had spent a lifetime believing that Damarus was a prophet of God, and now…?
Did Heaven really exist? Was there even a God?
She had been deceived by a lie, everybody had. The human race had let their guard down for one moment, in their search for something greater, and it had cost them much. It was an honest mistake; the kind of thing you never dwell on until it happens to you. Damarus’ panentheist teachings in the Third Testament had been so relevant, so meaningful in the modern age. They succeeded in uniting all the world’s archaic religions into one and made it accessible to a world that had moved on so much technologically and socially. It was a spiritual revolution.
But now? Did they revert back to the old religions of the past? Ignore the progress that had been made in the hundreds of years since then?
She felt so empty now; devoid of hope.
“Six…”
“Five…”
And so the path became clear. All roads led to here, this final, terrible conclusion. She could either commit suicide or spend the rest of her life running from these damning feelings.
“Four…”
“Three…”
There would be no more guilt or anguish. She’d never have to see their faces in her nightmares again. Death would be a release.
“Two…”
“One…”
“Happy New Year!”
Across the city, and indeed across the world, revellers shouted out in unison, ushering in the New Year. It would be another year where new mistakes could be made, new promises could be broken and more guilt could be suffered. The cycle never ended, as long as people remained imperfect and flawed.
People like her.
Her finger lingered on the trigger, and she prepared for death.
Now…
But then, at the last moment, a man’s voice boomed suddenly: “Stop! Lorelei, listen to me. Put the gun down. It doesn’t have to be this way.”
The voice came softly but insistently, and she recognised it with a start. She blinked, dropping the gun instantly to the carpet, her eyes washing with hot tears; tears which dropped onto her cheeks like molten lava. Disrupted from her grim line of thought, she wiped the tears away then turned to look at him, straining to focus through the intense, dazzling light that erupted from this man, this apparition from beyond the known laws of physics.
Was he a ghost? Or an angel?
Cristian Stefánsson stood there watching her. “Hello, Lora,” Cris said, his voice sounding powerful and crystal-clear in her ears. “It’s been a long time.”
Chen made no sound. Her face was expressionless, not at all contorted; she merely closed her eyes briefly from time to time and let the tears flow down her cheeks without making any effort to contain them. She was astonished into speechlessness; she simply stared, wide-eyed, at the man she had loved – and murdered.
“Been a long time,” she managed after a while, struggling to master her guilt. Of all the emotions that thundered through her system at this moment, this one proved the most difficult to overcome. Guilt over his senseless murder. But perhaps most disturbing was the truth she had to admit to herself.
She still loved him.
She had thought that, with time, such sensations would fade… that her only memories of Cris would be limited to those of his death, and Damarus. And yet the memory of his inept kindness returned unbidden to her, awakening within her that emotional fondness and a deep physical desire for him that crept through her thighs.
“It has indeed,” Cris said gravely. “Though I’m afraid that it will be longer still until the next time. I’ve come to say goodbye, Lora, and to tell you not to give up hope.”
Abruptly, a small part of Chen’s mind thought she might be asleep, and dreaming of him.
“No, I’m not a dream,” Cris assured her, answering her unspoken thought. “But the distances separating us have become too great for me to appear to you in any other way. Like your future self. Now, as a Dweller of the Threshold, even this last path is being closed to me.”
“No,” Chen heard herself say. “You can’t leave me, Cris. I need you.”
Through the incredible brightness, Cris’ eyebrows lifted slightly, and a hint of his old smile touched his lips. “We will be together again, Lora. Trust in that. But you have a destiny to fulfil before then.” The smile faded, and for a moment his eyes seemed to focus on something Chen couldn’t see. “At any rate,” he added quietly, “the decision is not mine to make. I have lingered too long already, and can no longer postpone my journey from this life to what lies Beyond.
“It is the pattern of all life to move on,” he continued. “You, too, will face this same journey one day, to become One with the Light.” Again, his attention drifted away, then returned. “But first, you must confront Damarus at Laputa. It is the only way to separate my essence from that of the Eidolon. It is a fixed point in time and space, Lora, which cannot be avoided. You are strong, Lora, I know… and with perseverance and discipline you will grow stronger still.” His gaze hardened. “But you must never relax your guard. Only when you confront the Eidolon in ascended form, can you destroy it forever. Only then, can things be changed for the better. You will find the redemption you seek. Never forget that.”
“I won’t,” Chen promised.
Cr
is’ face softened, and again he smiled. “You will yet face great dangers, Lora,” he said. “At times and places where you expect them least.”
Great dangers? She thought. “What dangers?”
“My daughter, Kimberley,” he told her. “The Combine has taken her, to use for their own ends. Now, she has become something else entirely.”
Chen swallowed dryly. “Where is she?”
“Erebos, a Combine Hive world,” he said. “You can reach it by using the Xeilig Ark. But you won’t like what you find, Lora.”
“I have to go.”
“I cannot stop you. But do not lose sight of your destiny.” The apparition seemed to waver and become fainter. “And now, farewell,” Cris said. “Know that I love you, Lorelei Chen. I have faith in you. You are the Stone that splits the stream of time in two. You are the Healer. Remember my words. Until we meet again, good luck, my love.”
“Cris!”
But he turned, and the apparition faded… and Chen knew he was gone..
Now I am alone, she told herself.
She seemed to hear Cris’ voice, faint and indistinct, as if from a great distance. “You are never alone.”
The voice trailed off into silence.
16
Two weeks later Lorelei Chen stood on the bridge of the Fire LEO-04 Rynex, the newest and most advanced model in the Fire LEO series developed by the Terran Alliance, a descendent of the prototype Thunder. The Xeilig Ark floated in mid-air in the centre of the room, humming, emitting an unearthly light as the Lambda particles within it moved, reaching the critical configuration needed for the jump. In all the hours since the centre seat had been hers, Chen had not actually found time to sit in it. She stepped down into the helm area, closer to the Ark, aware of the curious glances from some of the bridge crew. Lady Adriana Zou was there, and Hiram Parsa. Mobit Akhragan sat at the Zara’moth flight console, and Chen was delighted that the young Paladin held this important shipboard post. She noted that despite the young lieutenant’s boyish look, he carried himself with self-confidence and authority, a fully grown man. Indeed, these had all been among Ammold Paramo’s most recent trusted protégés, and they had all jumped at the opportunity to serve when Queen Esme Mazzic had summoned them for Lorelei Chen’s ‘special assignment’.
Chen touched the strange biological surface of the centre seat, looked approvingly at the upgraded emergency motion restraints which were fitted there as well as at all other bridge positions. Sensor-controlled, they would hold her firmly in her seat despite any emergency which might override the ship’s inertia dampening system.
Just how the hell do you get into the seat?
The restraints were made to close over her lap, like animal claws. Unfortunately, they were presently in ‘closed’ position, effectively barring her from the seat. Where was the switch? Was anyone watching? The captain can’t figure out how to work her own highchair?!
Zou was turning her way with a questioning look when Chen’s eyes lit on what she hoped was the control, a simple flip-switch. Parsa had turned, too, as Chen touched it. Fortunately, it worked, and the claw-like restraints yawned open. She sat down, relieved, realising it had been ten years since she’d last flown on an interstellar bioship. Was there a hint of amused comprehension on Zou’s fine-boned Bantu face? Parsa also gave her a small smile and nod.
“It’s an honour to be flying with you, Ms. Chen,” Parsa said. The grin made it clear that this very scrutable Einekian woman was pleased to be working with Paramo’s most highly-praised former student.
Chen nodded, focusing her energies and emotions on the Xeilig Ark. This would be the first time she had ever used the ancient artefact to transport an entire ship and crew across dimensions, so concentration was vital. She did not reply, but merely stared along with her stunned crew as, ahead of the Rynex, a tunnel of blazing, writhing energy and light opened.
“I have a wormhole!” called Zou.
Chen swung her seat around toward the woman. “Lady Zou…” she began, but never finished the sentence in the pandemonium of alarm Klaxons, bells, the humming of the Ark and shocked cries that began. On the main viewer, the hyperspace spiralling of stars and rainbow light suddenly narrowed into a vortex as if a plug had been pulled and the universe was being sucked, spiralling down a cosmic sink drain. The ship flew directly into the heart of the brilliant maelstrom, and the deck beneath their feet convulsed.
Klaxons continued blaring loudly while the viewer offered a window on the time-matter distortion which the Xeilig Ark had created. Stars became strange elongated shapes as the Rynex was drawn deeper and deeper into the rainbow-coloured hyperspace vortex. The ship was beginning to rock violently as the helm controls ceased functioning normally.
The worst of it swept over them; and then, gradually, the light and the ship’s trembling subsided. Chen permitted herself a sigh at the realisation that the interdimensional travel had not killed them, but she knew the worst had not yet begun.
On the screen, the energy wake had begun to dissipate, revealing a planet below. The atmosphere was storm-swirled, turbulent, dark. A darkness that was colourless, lifeless, beautyless. Leaden, Chen thought – and then could scarcely draw the next breath. She gazed again at the glowing vortex, still open – and within, the reddish-brown Earth they’d left behind. Then a moment later, the wormhole collapsed, and the Xeilig Ark tumbled to the deck by her feet, silent and still.
“Dimensional shift was successful,” Zou muttered with some astonishment, looking down on the planet Erebos. Even before Mobit jockeyed the Rynex into orbit she could see the smoke rising from several spots around the dull grey world, and the flares of orange and gold that often preceded them. Judging from their preliminary scans the entire planet was caught in the throes of constant volcanic activity and in places it looked as if the ground itself might be unstable, still fluid from the repeated superheating beneath it.
This was definitely it, Chen told herself. The world in her dreams. The dreams that still haunted her every night, and sometimes during the day.
Yes, they had gotten worse. She was having them more frequently now. Time and dimensional travel was exhausting - something about the body not being designed for such transitions, and the mind not being able to process the information that changed and fluxed around it. Because of that she had found herself dozing off several times a day, anywhere for a few minutes to an hour. And each time the dreams had returned when she closed her eyes.
Nor had they remained the same. The dream of those horrific golem monstrosities looming over her had continued, increasing with intensity over the past couple of weeks, but with each dream she had less space to run, less room to move, less chance of escape. Less and less hope, as the monsters loomed larger and larger until they blotted out the sky. Her body had been altered as well within the dreams. It had stretched and contorted, shifting out of control, twisting and turning as if given a mind of its own and an urgent need to escape her consciousness.
At first she had thought it was merely bad luck of the kind that filled bad dreams - tripping over a loose rock, twisting an ankle on uneven ground, fingers slipping from the haft of a gun. But slowly Chen had realised that these were not accidents. In the dreams her own body was turning against her. It was siding with the monsters, working toward her capture and destruction. Her cries had become weaker as well. The calls of “Lora!” had faded to whispers, then to gurgles, then to mere gasps, as her throat tightened against her. Even her voice was no longer hers. During the last dream Chen had stood stock-still as the monsters descended, waiting until they had surrounded her. Then she had dropped to her knees and flung her arms wide, head back, waiting to receive them. She had woken from that dream with a laugh bubbling up her throat, a laugh of joy and victory and exaltation. And something else. A phrase that had wafted through her just as the dream ended, something that reverberated through every cell of her body and set her hairs on end.
“Behold the power of that which is yet unborn!”
/>
It chilled her to the bone, those words. Because even though she could not identify the speaker, she knew they were talking about her…
About Kimberley Stefánsson.
What were they doing to her? Hold on, Chen had thought desperately that morning as she’d staggered into the bathroom and ducked her head under the faucet to chase the last vestiges away. Hold on, Kimberley. We’re almost there.
And now she was. Here she stood on the Rynex’s bridge, looking down upon Erebos itself. Knowing that Kim was down there somewhere.
If the dreams were right, the Combine were there too.
Chen didn’t see any sign of them, but she knew from personal experience over the past few years that that meant nothing. The deadly Combine Swarm was capable of hiding all traces of their presence from even the strongest scans. Hell, at one point she’d walked, slept, and rode right above them on a parallel-universe version of medieval Earth maybe for months, without ever realising it.
“Ma’am!” Akhragan’s shout brought Chen back to the present, and she jerked around. As she did so, something caught her attention, and not for the first time; like some kind of sixth sense, a feeling she was being watched by hidden eyes, perceived by some hidden intelligence. A haunting, piping sound accompanied it, a disembodied voice squawking in her mind.
“Lora.”
She closed her eyes at the horror of it, allowing the sensation to pass. Kimberley Stefánsson was here, and she knew it. Kim had sent the dreams, somehow, and she had meant for Chen to come here. This was the place. And, despite everything, she might still be alive.
Then came the chills. Because this was the world from her dreams, a Combine world more monstrous than any she’d seen before. She had to go down there. She knew that. She’d come this far; she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t go. Neither would Kim, for that matter. But what about her crew? Would they survive this mission?
Once again Chen was assailed with doubts. Did she have the right to risk all of them for one woman who might not even still be alive? Could she ask them to risk their own lives for hers? And what kind of leader would ask them to make that choice?
The Complete New Dominion Trilogy Page 68