The Exiled Earthborn

by Paul Tassi

  “Staring death in the face?” Lucas asked. Maston was peering at the unconscious Shadow, secured and asleep behind the glass.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Maston said. “The last time I was this close to one of these, it nearly killed me.”

  “Same here,” Lucas said. “We’re in a very small club.”

  Lucas looked up and down the rows of pods.

  “I wanted to shut off their oxygen until they were brain dead,” Maston said. “That way we wouldn’t have to worry about them at all.”

  “Can’t we?” Lucas asked.

  “Alpha says these pods wouldn’t be enough to keep them alive after that. They need specialized tanks or something,” Maston replied. He pressed his fingers to the glass.

  “What would it be like, to have that much power?” he asked, gazing at the Shadow within.

  “I don’t know,” Lucas answered. “But my guess would be terrifying. I wouldn’t want to be something that was specifically bred to be a killing machine, would you?”

  Maston laughed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, most Guardians are pretty well adjusted.”

  Lucas shook his head.

  “They’re not like this. Not like these things. I think you’d have to trade your soul to wield that much power.”

  “But to fight for your home, to defend those you love, wouldn’t you make such a bargain?” Maston asked.

  Lucas thought about it for a minute.

  “I suppose I might,” he answered truthfully. The Shadow’s eyes were still moving underneath his lids. Lucas suddenly felt a sharp migraine coming on and took a step back.

  “I’ll be down the hall,” Lucas said. “This place is eerie.”

  Maston didn’t say a word, and Lucas left him staring into the pod.

  Their eventual destination had Lucas uneasy already, but soon it became clear there was no solace in sleep either. Bad dreams were nothing new to Lucas; he’d endured more than his fair share since Earth. But these were something … else.

  They went beyond nightmares to pure, unadulterated terrors that had Lucas waking up in a cold sweat screaming some nights. Sometimes many times a night.

  These weren’t flashbulb memories or strange dreams open to interpretation. They were simply terrifying, through and through. There was one that had Lucas strapped to a table being dissected by Alpha wearing bloodstained surgical gear. Looking down, he could see his internal organs convulsing, and each new slice brought a surge of pain that he could truly feel, despite his unconscious state.

  Another night, he was simply made to sit and watch as Paragon troopers stormed into his house on the outskirts of Portland. There, they methodically tore his former wife and son, Sonya and Nathan, limb from limb before setting the entire place ablaze. Lucas was paralyzed as the fire consumed him, and he felt every square inch of his flesh burn.

  This night was different. He was back in the palace on Sora, roaming the empty hallways that were normally bustling with people. With each new turn, he found himself staring at an identical corridor, and he had no idea where he was actually going. But there was no pain, no savage Xalans nearby. What was going on?

  Lucas made one final turn and found himself in a hallway painted with blood. It was the exact scene he’d found before entering Talis Vale’s quarters the night of Tulwar’s escape. There were corpses on the ground, and Lucas’s eyes widened when he bent down to see who they were.

  Corinthia Vale lay sliced open from sternum to hip bone. Silo was next to her, missing his entire lower half. Kiati’s body was nearby, with her head a few feet further away. Tannon was sprawled out with his throat cut, draped over Talis, who was riddled with gunshots. Malorius Auran rested next to her, gored by stab wounds, staring blankly at the ceiling.

  Lucas kept walking, splashing through the blood, which pooled like rain puddles. Again, as it had that night, the door lay mangled and torn off its hinges. When he stepped over it to enter the room, a jolt of shock surged through his spine as he found two more victims. Little Noah lay on the ground clutching Erik. Neither were bloodied, but both had turned a grotesque shade of blue. Lucas dropped to his knees in tears. He couldn’t revive them, and they lay there like marble statues, looks of frozen terror etched on their faces.

  Up ahead, the frame of Talis’s bed was shaking. Lucas crawled forward past the small corpses and slowly got to his feet. There between the four pillars were Asha and Maston, stripped naked and very much alive. Lucas’s mouth fell open as he watched the two writhe around, muscles straining, breathing shallow, not paying him any attention at all. Both were soaked in blood, as were the sheets below them, but Lucas knew it wasn’t their own. Around them were discarded weapons. Swords, pistols, rifles, knives.

  Blind with rage, Lucas picked up a nearby combat knife from the edge of the bed and launched himself at the two of them. He shoved Asha off of Maston and jammed the blade into his throat. Yanking it out, he turned toward Asha, who knocked the knife away. Lucas was too angry to care. Immediately he wrapped his hands around Asha’s throat and threw her down onto the bed. He squeezed as hard as he was able; the blood on her bare skin made her slippery.

  “Why?” he yelled. “Why?”

  Despite being choked, Asha merely smiled as he shook her. Maston had blood spurting out of his neck next to them, but was somehow laughing maniacally.

  “Why?” Lucas cried. Asha’s smile only widened.

  Lucas felt a crack on the side of his head. Pain shot through his temple and ricocheted around his skull.

  He woke up on the ship.

  Asha was glaring at him, breathing heavily. She rubbed her neck and even in the dark, Lucas could see there were angry red marks on her skin in the shape of fingers.

  “Wha—” he began. “I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t what?” Asha yelled. “Try to murder me in my sleep?”

  She hit him hard in the face, which rocketed Lucas’s head back and made him see stars. It was clear he deserved it. He tried to explain as he wiped away the blood trickling from his nose.

  “I had a nightmare. It was—”

  But she had already stormed out of the room, dragging most of the bedding with her.

  When “morning” finally came, as indicated by the clocks, not the light outside, Lucas marched down to Alpha’s quarters. The creature answered the door, looking irritated.

  “Something’s going on here,” Lucas said flatly.

  “What are you referring to?” Alpha said as he rubbed his head. Lucas could see red veins threading through his normally pitch-black eyes.

  “I’ve been having nightmares. Truly messed-up shit. Dreams so visceral I can feel the pain in them. Tonight, I woke up trying to strangle Asha.”

  Alpha’s reddened eyes widened.

  “I have had similar terrors plaguing me. I thought I was alone in my torment. This … This is not a natural occurrence. It cannot be.”

  Alpha turned to walk back inside his quarters. It was a server room full of circuitry and holograms that sprang to life as he walked by. In a corner was a nest of blankets that was clearly his bed. Lucas half expected to find Zeta inside, but Alpha was too much of a gentleman, he supposed.

  “Are you sure it’s not just the stress of this suicide mission?”

  Alpha shook his head. He flipped through a few screens on a nearby control cluster.

  “I do not believe so. The images are so searing they feel purposefully planted.”

  “What have you seen?” Lucas asked.

  “Many things,” Alpha said, and Lucas thought he saw him shiver a bit. “I saw my family slaughtered before my eyes. I watched Zeta butchered by the Desecrator. I—”

  He paused, and turned to look at Lucas.

  “Tonight, I was dragged through the streets of Elyria, bound for execution in the central square. It was … you and Asha who carried out the sentence. I felt the rounds enter my chest as if it were actually taking place.”

  “Why would we both be having screwe
d up dreams like these?” Lucas asked.

  Alpha had pulled up a view of the sleeping pod area on a floating monitor. He zoomed in on the figure.

  “I suspect we are transporting a Chosen Shadow.”

  A few hours later, Alpha had the skeleton crew assembled in the CIC. From the rough-looking faces in the group, it was clear few had been getting much of any sleep as of late. Further investigation revealed all onboard had been plagued with the same sorts of horrifying visions. But as everyone else slept alone, no one had attempted to kill their bunkmate.

  Asha had finally started speaking to Lucas again, but just barely. She still wore a permanent glare when looking in his direction.

  “What have you seen?” Lucas asked her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied coldly. Lucas couldn’t imagine much worse than what he’d been forced to witness, but who knew? He still couldn’t shake the image of her and Maston and the pile of corpses, including their own children. It had sunk into him and seemed like it would be impossible to extricate.

  “So you’re saying this thing is putting these images in our minds?”

  It was the woman who spoke, Reyes. The “Whisper.” She had such dark circles under her eyes it almost looked like war paint.

  “A Chosen Shadow has telepathic abilities, the full extent of which is not yet understood. Though, from our collective symptoms, this seems to be the most likely answer.”

  The man, Kovacs, rubbed his eyes.

  “Is there any way to make it stop? We can’t train like this.”

  Lucas wondered what career assassins had nightmares about.

  Zeta chimed in. She looked less fatigued than the lot of them, but that wasn’t saying much. Perhaps what she’d already endured while in captivity was worse than any terror the Shadow could show her.

  “Alpha and I will try to develop a compound to feed into the pod’s ventilation unit to disrupt its brainwaves. Though that poses a few risks. We could wake it, for one.”

  “It’s worth the risk,” Asha said with arms crossed. She’d already been driven insane once by maddening visions caused by Xalan technology; she wasn’t about to have it happen again.

  “Why is he doing this?” asked Kiati, who looked more angry than usual.

  “I believe he is showing us visions based on manifestations of our own deepest fears ingrained in our subconscious. This would explain the … intensely personal nature of the horrors,” Alpha said. “It is the only way he can torment us in his present state, without access to his physical body.”

  “And we really can’t remove his physical body for good?” Lucas asked.

  “Not without immediately alerting Xala something is wrong onboard.”

  Maston had remained silent through all of this.

  “If he shows me her one more time, I’m going to lose it,” he said. “I’ll rip his telepathic brain from his skull and send it out an airlock.”

  “That would be ill-advised,” Alpha said calmly.

  “Then do it,” Maston growled. “Make it stop. Or I will.”

  But Alpha and Zeta couldn’t stop it. Not really. The compound they’d mixed up in their mad scientist lab didn’t wake the creature, but it didn’t stop the dreams either; it merely slowed their production. The nightmares still came, the pain still felt real, but it was only a few nights of the week now. Not a true solution, but at least something of a bandage.

  Lucas had lost his roommate for good when Asha woke one night and almost slit his throat before snapping out of it. They called it even, but more serious steps had to be taken. Each night now, everyone onboard was locked in their rooms, away from weapons that could be used to hurt themselves or others.

  This was torture, plain and simple. A mentally manufactured hell from which they couldn’t escape. Lucas was tempted more than once to smash through the glass and cut the Shadow’s head off, but he refrained, as did Maston, despite his earlier threats.

  The two of them were in the cargo deck watching Asha and Reyes spar with each other. Asha had her faithful black-bladed sword and Reyes used two curved silver blades that were miraculously made out of a material Asha couldn’t slice through. The two whirled around each other like the wind and clangs echoed through the chamber. Kiati and Kovacs were strategizing over virtual central command blueprints in the corner. Training was a way for all of their bodies to release the built-up rage induced by the nightmares, and planning focused their minds elsewhere, giving them problems to solve. But currently Lucas and Maston were doing neither.

  “What does he show you?” Lucas asked. It was a dangerous question as he didn’t want to set Maston off. But he was less angry today, and merely looked fatigued.

  “It’s Cora,” he said quietly. “It’s always Corinthia. Tortured, mutilated, battered, raped, dismembered. It’s too much to take.”

  He put his palms to his forehead.

  “Why her?” Lucas asked.

  “I have no one else,” Maston said. “It was only her. I never cared for anyone as much. I never will.”

  He stared out into the room as Reyes took a swing and missed Asha’s throat by a millimeter.

  “And even worse, it’s always Tulwar. He’s there with that serene smile on his face, committing the atrocities. And I can never reach him. Can never kill him. When I get close, he simply drifts away until the next night, and it starts all over again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lucas said.

  Maston folded his hands together.

  “Not as sorry as the thing’s going to be the second we no longer need him alive.”

  “I meant I’m sorry about Tulwar. I’m sorry we let him win.”

  Maston threw up his hand dismissively.

  “You didn’t let him do shit. He played us, and did it well. All of us underestimated him, even before you showed up.”

  “If I’d let you kill him in Rhylos—” Lucas said.

  “Cora would still be dead.”

  “And if we hadn’t shown up at all?”

  Maston fell silent for a minute. Then two. The only sound in the room was the clashing of metal in front of them. Asha was certainly being put through her paces from the looks of it.

  “Tulwar and the Xalans would have found a way. As it happens, your presence is more likely to save us than destroy us.”

  He paused again.

  “And you’re the first friends I’ve had in years.”

  Maston gazed outward toward the duel in front of them, which was now drawing to a close. Both women were obviously fatigued, and the floor was wet with sweat and a few drops of blood from rogue swings.

  Reyes dashed toward Asha, swinging her blades like a combine about to devour a line of crops. Asha spun to avoid the onslaught, whipping around her sword, which was immediately caught between the two blades. One sharp flick of the wrist from Reyes and the sword was wrenched from Asha’s hand and thrown across the room, where it stuck into the wall.

  “Yield?” Reyes asked with her one of her blades hovering in front of Asha’s eye, the other pressed to her navel.

  Asha just snorted before leaping backward and thrusting her legs forward into Reyes’s stomach. She landed on her hands and propelled herself back to her feet. Her electromagnetic metal cuff had already been activated and the sword rocked out of the wall and into her hand. Reyes tried to recover, but Asha flipped the sword around so that the flat of the blade rested against her neck. With a sly smile she flicked the pommel and a quick jolt of electricity sent Reyes instantly crumpling to the ground. Not enough to fry her for good, but her hair was smoking as she lay on the deck.

  “Cheating bitch,” said Reyes, rubbing her head. But she was smiling. Asha extended her hand and helped her to feet.

  “No such thing,” Asha replied. She turned to Maston and Lucas.

  “You two up next?”

  As time passed, the voyage toward Xala grew quieter and quieter. Evenings of restless sleep had everyone on edge, and no one bothered to talk about their latest night
mares anymore. The atmosphere onboard grew increasingly tense. With each passing day they were closer to a place they might never leave.

  They now headed into the final day before they’d reach Xala. Alpha was double- and triple-checking their broadcast signatures and lifeform readouts to ensure everything was in order for the interceptor to pass inspection. There had been no incidents with the sleeping soldiers on the lower deck. Though the Shadow plagued them with visions in their sleep, Alpha believed it was not in his power to telepathically contact anyone on Xala from such a distance, especially in his current comatose state.

  Everyone was itching to dive into the mission. They’d been training exceptionally hard to prepare for what was to come. Kiati and Reyes, the two tank-bred superhumans, had been putting them all through hell, and Lucas had never felt so powerful before. Combined with top-of-the-line armor and weaponry, Lucas began to feel like the eight of them could storm the whole of Xala themselves, though that was a lofty ambition. Central command would be enough of a task, as even ghosting their way into the building they’d likely meet a great deal of resistance. And getting out was another level of impossible in itself. The looks on everyone’s faces as they roamed the halls suggested no one expected to make it back to Sora.

  The last few hours had been all business. No room for fear or nervousness anymore. They went over their infiltration plan for the thousandth time and laid out their combat kits so they could be assembled and equipped in seconds. Once they were cleared to enter Xalan airspace, they would exterminate the crew, infiltrate central command, disseminate the message, and then escape while everything was in chaos. When put like that, it didn’t sound all that bad, but the reality was likely to be far more complex.

  23

  There would be no dazzling array of stars or planets to greet Lucas as they came out of the space-time tunnel into the Xalan solar system. He was locked away in a windowless cell. The other six non-Xalans were in their own individual cells. When they entered the system, their ship would be scanned, and Alpha didn’t want to take any chances. Everything had to look normal, and Zeta had spent a week forging the Shadow captain’s biological and vocal prints that would let them pass into Xala. They had been broadcasting occasional updates to Xala during transit, but they’d be under much closer scrutiny here. One wrong word or suspicious readout and they would be boarded or blown out of the sky before they could even see the Xalan homeworld.