The Sons of Sora

by Paul Tassi

  “Hey!” one of the other men said, realizing what had happened. Noah lunged for his hammer and grabbed it, then swung it around so the rear spike caught the approaching man in the hip. He howled in agony as his friend raced toward Noah. He couldn’t pull the hammer free, and made a hasty attempt to throw the bloody knife at the other man. It wobbled wide left, and the man’s boot struck Noah’s face, making his world dissolve into stars. A second later, his sight returned, and he saw the vacant eyes of the man next to him, having already bled out from a severed artery. Noah barely had time to react to another kick, and this time grabbed the man’s foot and twisted it sharply with all his strength until he heard a stiff crack. More screaming. Noah was reeling as he sat up, and found the other man swinging his own hammer at him, blood gushing from his side. Noah rocked backward to dodge the darksteel blur, and the momentum of the swing caused the man to stumble. From his seated position, Noah caught the man’s belt in his good hand and pulled, causing him to fall and land on top of his friend with the broken ankle.

  Noah fumbled to catch the dropped warhammer, but it eluded his clumsy grip and clattered to the ground. The man who had just wielded it was trying to get up, but Noah slammed him back down with a punch that hit him square in the forehead instead of the nose. Once again, he landed on top of his friend. Noah shook his hand out. His other one was bleeding profusely from the knife wound, and he discovered most of his fingers wouldn’t bend.

  Noah finally found the warhammer and used it to get to his feet. As soon as he did, he brought it over his head and slammed it into the back of the downed man. Bone cracked, the hammer glowed, and the force threw him a solid five feet backward into the middle of the street. Picking his head up, he saw all three of the men were still. He looked up and found a bright halo hovering around every source of light. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air. He felt pain, though not nearly as much as he should, he knew. His chest rose and fell rapidly as breath escaped him.

  A hot wind blew over him, accompanied by the whine of an aircycle engine. A pair of boots hit the pavement next to him. The figure was out of focus. A woman’s voice.

  “Gods, Noah …”

  He woke up on a beach. Noah lay back in the sand, and crystal clear waves reached the bottoms of his heels before retracting back into the sparkling sea. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the ghosts of two moons could be seen opposite the brightly shining sun.

  Tropical greenery swayed behind him, and there wasn’t another soul in sight. Colorful birds darted in and out of the trees, and to his right and left, the shoreline stretched out to infinity. It reminded him of a place he, Asha, and Erik had once lived when he was very small and their family was still hiding from the public. Even so, that island had never been quite this beautiful.

  Noah looked down and saw that his arm was completely free of his famed burn. His broken leg and stabbed palm no longer hurt. His other scars, from accidental injury and battle alike, had evaporated.

  “Noah.”

  A voice, and then she appeared out of thin air.

  Kyra’s blond hair was longer than he’d ever seen it, and it flowed down over her shoulders with a purple-and-white flower tucked behind her ear. Her eyes sparkled, even bluer than the perfect ocean behind her. She wore a wispy coverall masking a bright swimsuit. She kneeled in the white sand, a look of concern in her eyes.

  “Noah, where are you?” she said.

  “I’m right here, of course,” he said, his voice sounding strange in his head. He moved his arm to touch her cheek, but it seemed to take ages to get there. She put her hand on his fingers and slowly lowered the hand. Every inch of his body felt like it was being bathed in sunlight that was warm, yet refreshing at the same time. He couldn’t stop smiling. This must be what plants feel like, he thought, not comprehending his own strangeness.

  “Where are you?” Kyra repeated.

  “The island,” he said slowly. “Kin-tai? Kin-toi? I can’t remember. It’s beautiful here. You’re beautiful.”

  “No wonder they call it Paradise,” Kyra said under her breath, looking away.

  “What?” Noah said, confused. “What are you … What are you talking about?”

  “The drug, Paradise,” Kyra said, staring into his eyes unromantically, like she was looking for something. “It’s in your system, along with four different types of liquor and three classes of narcotics. I just did a blood test.”

  Noah furrowed his brow, which again seemed to take ages. Paradise?

  “I didn’t take any … I was …” He was speaking too slowly to finish the sentence.

  “It was probably mixed into something you drank. Its effects were delayed by the other compounds in your system.”

  “Just relax,” Noah said, waving her off. “Enjoy the sun. It’s so nice here.”

  “It’s not real,” Kyra said softly.

  “But I can feel you,” he said, his fingers grazing the back of her hand.

  “Feel this,” she said, taking his hand and placing it on the sand. She dragged it forward. The sand moved, but it felt like cold, rough metal.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re in the Black Wings compound. They told me you wandered away, so I went to look for you. I found you in the street next to a pile of bodies.”

  “Robbers,” Noah said. “They weren’t nice. This is a planet where only nice people can live.”

  Kyra shook her head.

  “You’re not making any sense. But it’s alright; I mixed up something that should ease you back into reality soon. Just don’t try to move.”

  “No,” Noah said, shaking his head as violently as he could manage. “I want to stay here.”

  The sun was starting to go down now, and the sky was a brilliant painting of pink, red, orange, and yellow. The tide was falling away from his feet, pulling sand with it.

  “You can’t run from what happened today, Noah. No matter how badly you want to. Wherever you think you are, it doesn’t change the fact that people need you here in the real world.”

  Noah pressed his palms into the sand, feeling only cold metal. His head hit something invisible behind him. The island was dimmer now. Darker. Not quite as pretty.

  “Make it stay,” he said frantically. “Make it stay.”

  “It will be gone soon,” Kyra said. “But I’ll still be here with you. Don’t worry. You’ll always have me.”

  Noah felt like bursting into tears as the island continued to fade. Instead, he lunged forward and kissed her. He felt her whole body tense in shock. He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to open them.

  But he did.

  He pulled back, and saw Kyra looking at him with wide eyes, face flushed scarlet. He was in a dark, dingy former prison cell that was so old it still used metal bars. Dirty blankets and cots were spread around on the floor, the central light flickered. The walls were painted with rust and glowing graffiti. His leg was wrapped in a bloodsoaked bandage, as was his stabbed hand. Kyra wore a tightly wrapped leather tunic with a retracted hood, and a look of complete confusion. He could still feel her lips on his. The sensation lingered. That much wasn’t a hallucination then.

  “I’m … sorry,” he said, unsure of what else he could say.

  “Sakai …” she whispered.

  “Hates me.”

  “Erik …”

  “Deserves a better brother,” he said, putting his face in his hands. “And you deserve someone better than me. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

  His head was finally starting to clear, and every part of him hurt, both inside and out.

  “I don’t deserve any of you,” Kyra said, her voice starting to break. “Not Tannon, not Erik, not a Guardian escort to protect me, not a small army to save the family I’ve endangered. I’m not worth it. I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m worth it.”

  “You are,” Noah said quietly. “Everyone knows it but you. You’re what this world needs.”

  “And what I need,”
she said. “What I’ve always needed … is you.”

  This time it was she who leaned forward to meet his lips with her own. It was Noah’s turn to look shocked when she pulled away.

  “That may be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done,” Kyra said. “With any luck, you won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

  Even in a delirious stupor, Noah knew he’d never forget it the rest of his life.

  “I will,” was all he could manage.

  “Get some sleep. Dream of the island. Dream of the planet with only nice people. Just don’t leave this room. I have to go check on Erik.”

  She got up and exited through the open doorway, leaving Noah alone with his reeling head and an unsettling avalanche of emotions.

  I love her, he finally admitted to himself. Gods damn it, I love her.

  30

  When Lucas came to, he didn’t understand where he was. He expected to wake up in some dark torture chamber onboard the Corsair’s ship. Instead, he found himself still on the bridge of the Viceroy’s vessel, nearly in the same spot he’d fallen. Standing above him was none other than … Alpha?

  “You are awake, excellent,” Alpha said, his translator flickering orange. He glanced toward the viewscreen full of stars. A few odd objects appeared in the distance, but they were too small to be identified. “Your assistance is required.”

  “What?” Lucas said, getting to his feet and rubbing his head. “What the hell happened? Why are you back here? Where’s Maston? Where’s Asha?”

  Alpha let out a snort.

  “After your … influence wore off of the pair of us inside the fighter, I intercepted an incoming transmission. One side was scrambled, but from the sound of it, Commander Maston was being called away by the Archon, presumably. Despite your attempt to force us to flee, we returned to this vessel and were curious, and elated, to find he had left you behind.”

  It didn’t make any sense. “Why go through all that trouble just to leave me here?”

  Alpha shook his head. “I do not know, though I am certainly wary. I have scanned you for any toxins or explosive devices, but you appear to be untouched.”

  “Where’s Asha, then?” Lucas asked, looking around the bloody bridge for her.

  “As I fixed the ship’s engines and we waited for you to wake, I convinced her I could manage your care here while she flew to Solarion Station to find your sons. The late Viceroy indicated they were in imminent danger, after all. She left reluctantly, but with the speed of that fighter, she should be there shortly, and will let us know when she arrives.”

  Lucas winced. He felt hungover, something he hadn’t been in close to two decades. Everything on the bridge had a strange tint to it. Alpha looked nervously at the viewscreen.

  “Alright, so let’s go to Solarion then,” Lucas said, trying to blink away lingering spots in his eyes.

  “Upon fixing the ship’s engines, I made the decision to activate the core and jump to a location outside the star system, should Commander Maston return to collect you. Unfortunately, I seem to have worsened our predicament.”

  “Alpha, what are those?” Lucas said, squinting at the shapes in the viewscreen scattered among the stars.

  “It appears I inadvertently jumped to a Xalan communications relay. Those are a pair of motherships, and a listening post. Our engines are overloaded from the core’s activation. The stealth drive is drawing too much power to keep us hidden for long. We are drifting closer, and will soon be visible to them.”

  Lucas’s head was swimming. It was unlike Alpha to screw up this badly. He jumped them right into a Xalan comm station? It must not have been on the military intelligence maps.

  The two ships were growing closer, and Lucas could clearly make out their jagged Xalan architecture. The listening post was a wide-spoked wheel of metal with long antennae protruding from the top and underside of the center. What system were they in? All the readouts were glitching and scrambled.

  “What’s the plan, Alpha? You always have one,” Lucas said nervously.

  Alpha looked forlorn.

  “In this case, I do not. It is why I must ask something of you with an enormously heavy heart.”

  Lucas looked at him, confused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Our power is failing; we will be visible in minutes, if not seconds when the stealth drive gives out. After which we will be promptly destroyed by the vessels you see before you. It would not be a fitting end for either of us, as I am sure you would agree.”

  Lucas’s chest was starting to constrict. The lights began to flicker in the room. The engines groaned painfully. The ship was starting to shut down completely.

  “What … what am I supposed to do?”

  Alpha looked at him with stern golden eyes.

  “Though I fear your strange new power, I must ask you to call upon it now. Turn those ships against one another, and the station they protect. Only then will I have the time required to fix our own vessel and jump to Solarion.”

  “My power?” Lucas said. “I can’t do that. I can barely control a room full of people I can see for more than a few seconds.”

  “A few seconds is all that is necessary,” Alpha said, voice suddenly cold. “And the minds of the crew on each ship’s bridge.”

  Lucas shook his head.

  “I can’t do it. They’re too far away. There are going to be too many of them. Too many commands to issue.”

  “You overthink your own ability,” Alpha said. “There will be no more than two dozen men on the bridge of each ship. You only need to send them these firing coordinates.”

  He pulled up a long column of ten character numbers that Lucas memorized instantly.

  “I can’t …” Lucas repeated. “They’re too far away and hidden inside their ships.”

  “You do not need to see them,” Alpha said. “You only need to draw on their energy, their presence. Sight is a sense you only think you require. You can feel them, can you not? Concentrate.”

  Lucas did, closing his eyes. There was nothing at first, but a sensation slowly tickled his mind. Like little pricks of warm light. Clusters of them. In the ships. In the station. Some were moving, some were still.

  “Power at 1 percent and dropping,” Alpha said as the lights kicked out and faint emergency fixtures painted the room a ghostly blue. “We will be visible at any moment.”

  Alpha put a claw on his shoulder.

  “You are capable of this,” he said. “I know you have the strength within you. Believe in your gift as I do.”

  Gift?

  An alarm sounded. The words TARGET LOCK shone in bold across the viewscreen. The two ships were turning toward them.

  “We are revealed,” Alpha said, with a sigh.

  Lucas closed his eyes. He focused on the two most dense clusters near where the forefronts of the ships would be. His lips rifled through the list of numbers.

  Suddenly, his brain caught fire. The cold burned so sharply he dropped to his knees, holding his head in agony. His screams echoed around the room. It was like an unrelenting hailstorm of frozen daggers in his head. No other pain had matched it.

  Lucas forced his eyes open, and was stunned by what he saw. The two massive warships had in fact opened fire on the listening post, not them. Missiles spiraled out of their launch bays and collided with the slowly rotating structure, which blew apart silently. The next volley of ordnance was fired at each of the ships themselves. As they exploded, Lucas could feel the little warm lights in his head going out all at once. The area soon became a massive debris field, the vacuum of space extinguishing the flames instantly. Lucas’s head was throbbing so violently it felt like a drum was being beaten in his ears. He tried to get to his feet, but stumbled back, his head still engulfed in freezing pain.

  Tears wormed their way out of his clenched eyes and ran down his face. There was only darkness. No more little lights. He blinked open his bleary eyes and saw Alpha’s claw extended out in front of him.


  “I didn’t know I could do that,” Lucas said, stunned, his voice hollow. He took Alpha’s claw.

  “I did,” a voice said. Lucas’s spine stiffened. The voice wasn’t Alpha’s, and it came from inside his own head. The claw hoisted him up. Lucas blinked.

  The claw wasn’t gray, it was black, and had four-pronged fingers, not three.

  Lucas stumbled backward as he saw the figure in front of him.

  “My creation,” the Archon said. “Returned to me at last.”

  Lucas couldn’t form words; he could only stare at the creature before him.

  Though the Archon had the same general shape of a Xalan, there were distinct and immediately noticeable differences. His skin was black. Not charred like the Shadows, but oiled and glistening. He wore no armor, but was covered in patched plating with the same wet shimmer as his skin. There were stiff, sharp ridges extending up his back and covering his joints.

  And his face. His snout was shorter than that of most Xalans, and devoid of an actual mouth, with only smooth skin in its place. His dark eyes had no rings, and were merely thousands of points of light in a black field. Eyes like galaxies.

  Lucas’s heart was racing. He looked around and suddenly was aware of where he was. On the bridge of a ship, but one that was distinctly Xalan. Gone were silver floors and walls stained with the blood of the Viceroy’s crew. Everything was matte metal with hundreds of holographic displays, all seeming to function autonomously with nary a crew member present.

  It was all a lie.

  Alpha, the ship, the threat. It was the Archon in his head. Or was it? Lucas turned to look out the viewscreen. There was still a wide debris field of metal confetti floating in the distance. His head still pulsed with icy pain.

  “What … What did I do?” Lucas said frantically. He lunged at the Archon, who merely took a step back and he stumbled forward, grabbing only air. His Shadow strength was gone, as was his speed.