Transient Echoes

by J. N. Chaney

  Scar didn’t have a helmet, but there were a few sitting against the wall. Terry didn’t know what the dress code was in a place like this. He’d only seen a few guards here and there, but he was willing to take the risk.

  Ludo insisted on walking on his own until they were clear of the building, despite the immense pain from his wounds. He was right. If any of the guards saw Terry carrying him, they might ask what happened or worse. Better not to risk it.

  Together, they descended the stairwell and entered the foyer. There were a few guards in one of the corners, but no one stopped them.

  Outside, Terry saw the prison for the first time in its full complexity. The main building was three stories tall and roughly a hundred and fifty meters wide. Surrounding it were several smaller ones shaped like the domes in the abandoned village. Around all of this was a large wall half as tall as the main facility.

  The gate was directly ahead of them. Two men were standing under it.

  “Let me talk to them,” said Ludo.

  Terry nodded. No argument here, he thought.

  “Where are you going?” asked one of the guards.

  “The lord sends us to retrieve a debt,” said Ludo.

  “A debt from where?” asked the guard.

  “One of the slaves has been sold to the Twelfth Temple in Riverside,” he lied.

  “Which one? Was it the foreigner?”

  “The freak,” said the second guard. “I heard he was hideous.”

  “The very same,” said Ludo. “The lord held a private auction.”

  “I heard about it,” said the first guard.

  No you didn’t, thought Terry.

  “Very well,” said the guard, smacking his chest. “Safe travels to you.”

  Ludo returned the greeting, and he and Terry walked through the archway and into the field outside.

  When they were far enough away, beyond the sight of the camp, Ludo collapsed. Terry caught him, carrying him a fair distance before finally stopping.

  They found a small place in the woods where the trees were thick and no one would see them. They removed the armor, which smelled like a rotting animal, and cast it into the brush.

  They sat for a few hours, resting.

  “What should we do?” asked Terry, after a while. “What comes next?”

  “I must go and find Ysa,” said Ludo.

  “Where is she?”

  “Gast sent her home to Riverside, but she will not be there for long. In truth, I fear she has already been moved.”

  “Why would they take her somewhere else?” asked Terry.

  “The Festival of the Eye will be here soon. It is a month of celebration held near the border of Everlasting. Ysa will be there. But…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The festival is deadly. Many are killed each year.”

  “How can it be so dangerous?”

  Ludo looked at the ground. “The borders of Everlasting are filled with guardians, great demons with unparalleled strength. Not even Ysa’s wings can stand against them.”

  Was Ludo being serious? Demons? There was no way. “We can find her,” said Terry, ignoring the superstition.

  “I would not ask this of you, my friend,” said Ludo.

  Terry beat his chest. “You don’t need to. I won’t abandon this family.”

  Ludo smiled through his swollen cheeks. “I’m glad I met you that day in the field.”

  “Me, too,” said Terry, and it was the truth.

  Terry thought about the prison and the man called Gast Madeen. The words he told him about how life repeats, how every moment comes again, whether we realize it or not. Terry thought about his own life, the path he’d taken from his family’s two-story apartment to standing in the forest of another planet, beaten and bruised.

  He moved through life like a stone across a river, touching occasionally but never stopping. Always leaving someone behind. Was this his fate? Would he ever stop moving?

  Of course he would. Just because events repeated, it didn’t mean they couldn’t change. Purple Eyes was dead, killed by the hand of a farmer. The moment had come again, but the details were different.

  Anything could happen.

  When the light of the two suns had faded into a red glow on the distant horizon, the two men stood and walked, heading to the north along the far-stretched road to Everlasting.

  They went with uncertainty and doubt. They went with broken bodies and fractured hearts.

  But they did so together.

  And somehow it was enough.

  Chapter 18

  Ortego Outpost File Logs

  Play Audio File 669

  Recorded: February 2, 2351

  TREMAINE: Who is this? Put Curie on the line immediately.

  MITCHELL: This is Sophia Mitchell, apprentice grade three. I’m sorry but Doctor Curie is unable to come to the com right now. May I take a message?

  TREMAINE: Now you listen to me, little girl—

  MITCHELL: I am listening.

  TREMAINE: You put Curie on here right this minute! Do you have any idea who this is?

  MITCHELL: Yes, of course I know who you are, Doctor Tremaine.

  TREMAINE: Then you should know full well to do as I say.

  MITCHELL: Yes, ma’am. I completely respect and acknowledge your authority. Unfortunately, Doctor Curie is not here at the moment and is therefore unable to come and speak with you.

  TREMAINE: Don’t give me that! I know exactly what she’s been doing, and I won’t have any of it. Do you understand? She can’t break the law and go behind my back to Ross and Echols. There are consequences.

  MITCHELL: Yes, ma’am. Consequences. I’ll be sure to let her know.

  TREMAINE: Wait until I clear this mess up. I’ll make sure both of you wind up in the slums working in sanitation. Is that what you want, Mitchell?

  MITCHELL: Not particularly, ma’am, no. But as I’ve already explained, there simply isn’t a thing I can do presently. Again, I apolog—

  End Audio File

  Ortego Reconstruction Outpost

  February 2, 2351

  John smiled when he saw his team pull up, their gear in tow. He waved at them only to be met with a crude hand gesture from Private Hessex. John chuckled and returned the unofficial salute. Thanks to Captain Thistle’s suggestion to Colonel Ross, the 1st Strategic Operations Functional Team had finally arrived.

  “Looks like SOFT is here,” said Bart, approaching from the side. He grinned when John glared at him. “I kid.”

  John nodded towards the second cab where Jackson, Armstrong, and Hughes were unloading their packs. “See the kid in the rear there?”

  Bart nodded.

  “That’s Mason Hughes. He’s small, maybe a buck forty on a good day, but check out the stick on his back.”

  “The gun? What about it?”

  “It’s an SRS 445 rifle with an effective firing distance of over thirty-six hundred meters,” said John. “They call it the Golden Ticket.”

  “Why?”

  “One way trip to Hell,” said John. “And Hughes there, he can hit the fang off a baby rab from two klicks away. He’s the best. All my guys are.”

  Bart raised his hands. “Okay, okay, no SOFT jokes, but there goes half my material,” he said, frowning. “Got another name?”

  “Every squad has a nickname. There’s the Guns, the Collectors, the Leatherheads, and so on,” explained John. “We’re the Blacks.”

  “Why the Blacks?” asked Bart.

  “Colonel Ross thought it’d be funny,” he said.

  “How’s that funny?”

  “Jack Black was a famous rat-catcher during the bubonic plague. He became the poster child for exterminators,” said John. “I guess Ross thought since we spent most of our time hunting down the local razorback population, we’d appreciate the humor.”

  “Seems like the name stuck,” said Bart.

  �
�The good ones usually do.”

  Private Jefferson waved to John and tossed him a pack. “Your stuff, LT.”

  John caught the bag and slung it over his shoulder, buckling the straps with a hard click. He watched as his troops assembled before him, their weapons at the ready, filing into formation. It had been a long time since he’d seen any of them. Almost a year, in fact. But standing here now, looking at each of their faces, it felt as though he hadn’t been away at all.

  “Good to see you, boys,” he said with a wide grin. “Been a while.”

  ******

  After talking with the squad, John went to find Mei. She was sitting near the solar field on the other side of camp. As he approached, she smiled at him. He beamed and soon joined her.

  They sat quietly together for a few minutes. Mei hugged his arm and placed her head on his shoulder. The wind stopped soon, and it was quiet. He heard her breathing, licking her lips as though she were about to speak.

  “You did good,” he said, beating her to it.

  She hesitated, then smiled. “So did you.”

  “I do what my girlfriend tells me,” he said.

  She punched him in the thigh. “Don’t try to play the victim with me.”

  “Anything you say, boss!”

  Mei rolled her eyes, but John immediately wrapped his arms around her. They both grew still and quiet, breathing softly together. After a few moments, John pressed his face against her hair, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

  She smelled like lavender shampoo, like earth and hydrazine. It was something he’d grown accustomed to in the months they’d spent together here, this blend of femininity and industry, and he wanted to remember it.

  Just in case.

  ******

  John waited outside the Ortego ruins, fully geared, surrounded by his team.

  Mei and her people were in the basement configuring the rods, getting them ready to open the portal. It wasn’t possible for the Blacks to wear their gear as well as the radiation suits, so compromises had to be made. As such, the portal would have to be opened ahead of time to reduce the local radiation, remaining open until the area was clear, and the danger was gone. Mei said an hour ought to do the trick, and she seemed confident the rods would hold. John wasn’t a scientist like the others, but he believed in Mei. He always had.

  When the time came, John called his people to the basement. The Blacks descended into the ancient catacombs of the Ortego building, quiet and quick. They swept through the lower level and filed into the portal room. The Blacks would now stay in their assigned positions, utterly silent and awaiting orders. Whenever John gave the signal, they would breach the other side of the portal. Until then, they would wait. No complaints. No questions.

  Mei was standing by in her radiation suit. She stared up at John, a look of concern in her eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I should be asking you that,” she said. “You’re the one who’s about to go across the universe to who-knows-where.”

  He nodded. “I’ve already made the trip once. Guess I’m not too worried now.”

  She frowned. “Still…”

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  She stared at him for a moment. “I’d remove this suit if I could, but the top doesn’t come off.”

  “Why would you do that?” he asked.

  She dropped her eyes, the way she did when she was embarrassed. In a better light, she might have even blushed. “Well…” she muttered, trailing off. “I, uh…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She furrowed her brow. “I’d kiss you, you big idiot.”

  He laughed, then took her hand in his. He bent down and kissed her visor, knowing how cheesy it must have looked. “I’ll see you after a while.”

  Mei smiled, nodding, and released his hand. She backed away and sighed. “Sophie, what’s the status of the portal?”

  “Holding,” said Sophie.

  She looked at John. “Remember, it’ll be open again in three hours.”

  John nodded. He turned to face the rift, his team positioned. “Alright, boys,” he barked. “Time to take a dive.”

  “Yes, sir!” they said in unison.

  John took a breath. He was about to skip across the universe in an attempt to find his long lost friend and bring him back. The odds were against him. The whole thing barely made a lick of sense, but it sure was exciting.

  “Breach!” he cried, his voice echoing through the basement walls. “Go!”

  The Blacks filed through, their weapons aimed and hot. Two by two, they went, until John was the only one left.

  He reached the edge of the rift, but stopped and lingered. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Mei, standing there against the wall, gripping her pad between her arms, watching him. She had done all of this, made everything possible and brought him to this moment. She had done things no one else could, carried the weight of the world on her back. The portal, Terry, everything.

  It was his turn now.

  John faced the rift. He stared into the void, into both darkness and distance, into the other side of the universe, into the thing that killed the world.

  And he walked through it.

  Epilogue

  Lena Sol watched as the data poured in from the recent excavation project in the South Sea. The digital files appeared as holograms in the air before her. With only a thought, she sorted through the documents, pulling up the summary report and magnifying the page for examination. The archeological dig had gone smoothly, resulting in several new artifacts which would soon be examined and subsequently stored in the archives. However, nothing of any true significance had been unearthed, making the bulk of the investigation somewhat fruitless.

  Lena had little interest in archeology, but she was nonetheless displeased to see the lackluster results. As a citizen of Everlasting, her first priority was to the city and its people. It didn’t matter what field the research was in, so long as it benefited their society. Everything else came second.

  All was for the good of Everlasting.

  A red emergency indicator blinked near the corner of her display. She closed the excavation file and activated the recording program—standard protocol when dealing with an emergency alert—and transferred the file to her personal visor.

  A large energy discharge had occurred in the quarantine zone far to the west. Such an event was not unprecedented. Long ago, Everlasting had used this land as a testing site for early research projects but had since abandoned it. The native tribes in the area often stumbled upon caches of disregarded technology, accidentally activating them in the process. It was unfortunate but ultimately inconsequential to the welfare of the city’s citizenry.

  However, this blast was unusually large and had prompted the monitoring system to take further action by reporting the event to an analyst, who could then commit to more observation and request additional scans. Lena Sol was one such individual.

  Her first thought was to examine the readings for evidence of an explosive, but quickly dismissed the idea. The defense system had likely already looked for such a thing. She would of course return to this idea if nothing else worked, but for now, protocol suggested she move on.

  She initialized a detailed scan of the surrounding area, something which required the use of the Rosenthal satellite, which could only be accessed by a grade five analyst or higher. The satellite would observe and detail the movements of all detectable energy patterns in the affected area, dividing the findings into categories based on the level of relevance and triangulating the source of the event. This would then permit the user to track and monitor the incident in question and to assess the potential threat. The whole process took about three minutes.

  While the system worked, she decided to see what other anomalies were recorded in the quarantine zone over the last three months. Again, standard protocol.

  To her surprise, there had been almost a dozen si
milar events, but they had only lasted for a few minutes each. The system catalogued these and moved on, but with each additional event, the threat assessment rating grew.

  Lena closed the file and called for the results of the scan from the Rosenthal satellite. The report showed a large emission of energy coming from underneath one of the unfinished, half-constructed settlements. These buildings were meant for housing and storage but were abandoned along with everything else in the quarantine zone roughly two centuries ago.

  But Lena had never heard of an underground facility in this particular location. Odd, considering she’d memorized all four hundred and nineteen points of interest. Had she forgotten this one? Given her recall scores, it seemed unlikely, but she supposed anything was possible.

  As a precaution, she called for a full list of her POIs and looked for any falling under the grid in question. 1103-29, 1103-30, 1103-31, and so on.

  No matches for the location in question. How very odd. Had the site been blacklisted? Maybe. She’d never seen the practice herself, but there were stories from other analysts. Perhaps this location was one of them.

  In any case, the next step was to determine whether further investigation was warranted, which she—

  A light flashed on her display, followed quickly by an alert message.

  Report to Master Analyst Foster Gel immediately.

  Lena paused at the message. She’d never been called into Master Gel’s office before. What could he possibly want from her?

  Within seconds, another alert appeared. This time the words were larger.

  She blinked. Alert acknowledged, she thought, and the message disappeared. She got to her feet and calmly left the room and proceeded to the elevator. “Floor sixty-eight,” she said, once the doors were closed. The machine gave a light chime, accepting the command.

  A few moments later, the doors opened, and she entered the entrance lounge—a large room which acted as a hub for all the department heads and their staff members. Despite only coming here a few times, she had no trouble navigating the halls to Gel’s office. After all, she memorized the architecture of the building during her first year as a junior analyst.