It's Always Darkest

by Justin Bell

  Command sneers, a wide, tooth-filled grin. "I'd say I'm in the driver's seat here, young one. Let's not pretend otherwise."

  I look back out through the canopy to see the two small shapes growing slowly larger. Looming up into the sky behind them is the pyramid shape of the capital building, outlined in lights, sitting there like a ceremonial obelisk surveying its kingdom.

  The ship coasts to cruising altitude as I adjust the throttle to bring it in line with the two approaching fighters. They bank widely around and swing back to match my path and my thrust as we near the large temple ahead.

  "You are making the right decision," says Command quietly, looking into the camera. I can see Luxen struggling in his other hand.

  "Putting the life of one Bragdon before the lives of the entire quadrant?" I ask. "I'm not sure I agree."

  "You can have both, child."

  "Brie, don't do it!" screams Luxen trying to worm his way free. "He'll kill you if you come back!"

  "Don't worry about me, Luxen. You know me. I have a knack for figuring this stuff out."

  I bring the ship down among the flat rooftops of the surrounding buildings right into the open maw of the landing pad near the top of the capital building. I can see weapons turrets along the ridged platform and a small group of flight pods lifting off from the roof, heading slowly towards us to converge on our flight path.

  "Brie!" Luxen shouts again. "Please."

  I reach over and touch the screen with my fingertips. My mind races with alternative options, but the swirling colors in my head don't land on anything specific. Everything is still a violent rumble of mismatched outcomes. I just know I can't be responsible for Luxen's death. I've come close to breaking over the past year, but I've held my tenuous grasp on reality. If anything happens to Luxen, I'm not sure that will continue.

  "I can't let you do this, Brie," Luxen says from behind the screen. His voice is slow and steady, and his eyes are firmly locked on the camera. I see Command's eyes darting towards him, and his hand adjusting on the handle of the knife.

  "Not your call, bud," I reply.

  I see his eyes and my heart falls out of me. They are narrow and firm, locked and solid. I see quiet determination there, frightening, intense, final determination.

  "Luxen!" I scream as my heart slams. "I'm coming for you!"

  "I won't let you!" he screams again, a final, guttural, snarling shout. It's a tone and a tenor I don't think I will ever forget.

  With one desperate twist, he wrenches his shoulder free from Command's iron grip. The Bragdon fleet commander's mouth falls even as he glares at Luxen.

  Luxen lunges towards him, the lunge of the desperate, the lunge of someone realizing there is only one thing left to do.

  Luxen is the first Bragdon I actually met. He's the boy who, after holding his dying mother in his arms, risked his life and went to prison to protect me.

  Luxen thrusts forward and down, burying his own neck on the blade of Command's knife. The blade sinks in deep, to the handle, thrusting up into the Bragdon boy's head, out of sight.

  Command's fingers fly apart as he withdraws in shock, stunned and slack-jawed with his eyes snapping and his pointed teeth protruding.

  The entire world seems to grind to a dreadful halt. The incomprehensible moment is frozen in time, etching every small detail of what just happened in my mind forever. Luxen's vacant eyes looks out at me, but he does not see me. His mouth is moving, but he says nothing. When Command releases the blade, he slumps over backwards, falling out of view of the camera, leaving his killer staring, still unbelieving.

  I don't believe it myself. I don't speak, I can't think, and my fingers remain clenched on the controls. My skin is twisting tightly around my clenched knuckles, my mouth is dry, and the world is swirling dizzily around me.

  That can't be what I just saw. It can't be.

  This is some twisted dream, or one of those crazy hallucinations that's showing me all the possible outcomes of this crazy thing I'm doing.

  "Luxen?" I ask the screen in a narrow, frail voice as I guide the jump ship towards the capital. I can see the two escort ships on each side of me, but everything seems to be floating in some thick, transparent ocean.

  "Luxen?!" I shout it this time, hoping that he'll hear me.

  Command's head whirls towards the camera. "He can't talk right now," he hisses, a crooked smile emerging. "He's a little under the weather."

  This is real isn't it? Luxen just killed himself in one last, desperate act to save me and to save the galaxy? Is this real?

  This is real.

  Deadly real.

  My flesh crawls with goose bumps, my muscles tighten in my chest, and a piercing stab of pain buries into the base of my skull. The world ahead of me is dark and a glistening red blur coats it all like some bloodied fog.

  Luxen. Luxen?

  "Luxen!" I scream as loud as I can possibly scream. It's a furious, animal roar that would be more natural coming from a Reblon than a Bragdon.

  My eyes lock on the landing pad ahead as the platform mounted cannons swivel and adjust, tracking my trajectory. Flickering lights of flight pods sweep down over the slanted roof and start gliding towards me.

  "Are you going to let him die for nothing?" asks Command. "Are you going to resist now and get blown out of the sky? Is that what you want?"

  My ship continues gliding towards the capital building as it grows larger and larger before me.

  "Six platform auto cannons, two low altitude interceptors, and six flight pods are converging on you right now. You have no options. Resist and you will be destroyed."

  The interceptors fall in on my flank as the capital building fills nearly my entire view screen. I level my flight path, heading towards the landing pad opening.

  "This isn't over, Command," I growl. "Not by a long shot."

  "I should hope not," Command replies. "We shall have a wonderful future together."

  My thumbs twitch on the controls as the landing pad stretches open before me and I see Bragdon personnel scattering around inside preparing a bay for my approach.

  Drawing in a breath, I punch my thumbs down.

  Four rockets blast from underneath the wings of my jump ship, spiraling towards the open landing bay, trailing a corkscrew of light gray smoke. The minute the rockets launch, I haul back on the controls, pitching the ship sharply upwards. Below me, two interceptors break away and angle up just as the rockets detonate within the landing bay. The explosion is sudden and violent. An orange blast of flame and smoke jets from the open bay. Large chunks of polished stone break away from the walls of the capital and blow out in a scattering storm of flaming rock. The auto cannons are drowned in the spray of fire and smoke fragments.

  In my communications screen I see Command jerk and glance up towards the ceiling as the explosion rocks the building.

  "What did you do?" he demands, turning back to the screen.

  "Luxen will not die in vein you monster," I snarl back. "I will live to fight again, and then I am coming for you and this entire Mother-forsaken planet."

  My ship rolls to the left as I bank back around to meet one of the interceptors barreling towards my underside. I dive swiftly forward, sending plasma blasts slamming just to my right. The second ship advances on my left as I continue my dive, hurtling under another plasma volley.

  The surface of Braxis rushes up to me in a frantic, discolored blur. Both fighters fall in behind me, roaring off weapons fire, and I can see spears of yellow light bracketing me as I dive. I wait as long as I can as the ship thrashes with plasma impact towards the tail of the ship, then as the ground charges up towards me I crank back on the controls hard and fast, lifting the nose. The belly of the ship slams into a guard tower, clearing off the top booth, then scrapes along the hard surface of the street with the entire ship roaring in my tight grasp. A few scary moments later the nose finally begins to lift sharply out of the buildings, clipping the edge of one, and shattering the roof of a warehouse b
efore screaming up towards the sky.

  Below me one of my pursuers slams into the building I scraped, exploding in a blasting purple blur just below. The second pursuer skims through purple backlash, dragging smoke along its body as it climbs up towards me, matching me move for move.

  Flight pods hurtle plasma at me from my right. I manage to weave between the gathering of plasma beams, but one of my right wings is clipped. The hole knocked out of the edge, sends me shuddering upward. I compensate by banking back right a bit and adjusting the throttle of my left thruster to straighten the ship. My jump ship leaps forward again as more plasma fire strikes the rear, then rapid-fire metallic whacks riddle my right side as the flight pods move in.

  Banking sharply to the right, I level my jump ship and guide it straight at the tightly grouped flight pods, which try to pull away as I charge towards them with my weapons blasting away. Two of them disappear in a bright explosion of plasma, but the other four separate. Out of those four, two fall into the path of a pursuing vehicle, and all three of them collide, break apart, and explode to scatter debris and shrapnel across the ground below, leaving fading yellow light in the sky in their wake.

  Checking my short range scanners I see the last two flight pods coming back around behind me, but I flash my secondary thrusters and accelerate the jump ship to escape velocity. The friction of the too steep trajectory slams at my ship like a fighter throwing rapid fire, angry punches. Turning the ship sideways, I carve through lower space and blow the last two power cells to ignite my interstellar engines, break free from the atmosphere, and hurl out into outer space.

  As I regulate my trajectory and adjust guidance controls, I realize for the first time that tears are streaming down my face and my vision is blurring. Engaging the auto-pilot, I bury my face in my hands and release my emotions as grieving women have throughout time.

  #

  The darkness is deep and forever.

  Both outside the ship and inside myself, there's a dark and inky void, a distinct lack of substance, and a dry and complete emptiness.

  My fingers dance mindlessly over the controls, releasing the auto-pilot, and adjusting average thrust, trajectory, course of travel with the destination coordinates. I can think of only one destination right now. My one and only remaining option is Adroxis, the capital city of Athelon.

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  I look out into the darkness of space, somewhat amazed at the quite peace that surrounds me. Whatever war is currently going on, whatever intergalactic combat threatens to tear apart the entire Yarda Quadrant, it's not here. Here, everything is quiet and dark with a sense of calm that permeates the ship itself. It is a sense of calm that my mind does not share.

  My mind is a simmering pot of boiling rage. Swirling purple colors have darkened to a deep, vibrant crimson that fills my entire field of vision, cloaking whatever else there is to see or think.

  Everything in my world is washed through that curtain of red. Even as I rub my fingers against the cool metal of my mother's necklace that still clings tightly around my neck, it doesn't ease the rolling boil of anger, not just for Command, but for the entire Bragdon race.

  The Bragdons. It wasn't long ago I was defending them to my father, telling him that his hatred of the entire planet didn't make sense. There are good Bragdons and bad, just like there are good and bad Athelonians.

  Yet, here I am thinking of Command, Kleethak, and Gregson all working against me, probably from the start, in a coordinated assault against my very essence, against my soul. Soul? What soul? I'm a concoction of genetic materials blended together and wrapped in a bag of malleable flesh. What does that make me?

  What does that make anyone?

  I still see Luxen in my mind with his eyes narrowed in determination, a focused glare of impending sacrifice. He knew what he was doing. He was fully prepared to embrace and accept what he felt he had to do in order to save my life. Not just my life, but the entire quadrant's. He had been around Command enough that he knew what was coming. He could see it coming a mile away. Command would cut me down without hesitation then use my death to fuel the war. He can not rest until two entire civilizations are decimated.

  Luxen stopped all of that.

  History won't remember him, but whatever happens from here on out, whatever I manage to do, it will be because of him and only him.

  Everything will be because of Luxen, for Luxen who just wanted the Quadrant to be at peace.

  Not everyone is going to get along, but in his memory, I will end this foul war even if it kills me to do it.

  The next stop is Athelon. It will be interesting to see what kind of greeting I receive.

  EPILOGUE

  "This isn't what we signed up for."

  Command stands on his platform with his arms crossed behind his back and his yellow eyes glaring out the window of the capital building. Outside the night is dark. The faint twinkling of lights is the only sign of civilization outside his small, red-hued alcove.

  "Tell me, Graver, what did you sign up for?" he asks, glancing back at Drewsk Graver.

  The Athelonian leader of the Yarda Resistance stands facing him with three arms crossed over his chest and a measured look of defiance creasing his harsh features. His fourth arm, the one missing from the upper left shoulder, is a less than gentle reminder of his past choices.

  "We thought you wanted what we wanted, peace for the Quadrant."

  "Don't lie to yourself. You wanted our stealth technology. You wanted our long range sensors. You were all willing to sacrifice a little of your ideology to get them."

  Drewsk glanced over towards the door where two Bragdons were gently removing a body wrapped in dark cloth.

  "Not all of us," he replied quietly.

  "Kleethak and Luxen brought this upon themselves. Don't blame me for what they did."

  Drewsk glared up at him. "I blame you for putting us all in our current position."

  "I didn't force you to join us!" Command screams, whirling around to take one long, lumbering step from the platform. "You came to us, Athelonian! And I should have followed my instincts and slaughtered you where you stood."

  "Drewsk, maybe now's not the time," Loren came up behind him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Emotions are still raw."

  "Maybe that's why this is the time," Drewsk said without looking back. "Maybe we all need to look at this through the sharp edge of emotion instead of trying to fool ourselves into thinking this is for 'the good of the quadrant'."

  "Choose your words carefully," Command hisses.

  "I came to your side because I thought the Bragdons were the victims here. I thought you were a gentle people caught in the middle of conflict. Here I find out you've been the subversives for decades, sewing discord simply to pit one side against another, turning Athelon and Reblon against each other so you can move in and pick up the pieces."

  "And bring peace to Yarda. Don't forget that."

  "At what cost, the corpses of two-thirds of the quadrant?"

  "Two thirds are better than all three lost."

  Drewsk uncrossed his arms and drew a deep breath, turning away from the tall, imposing Bragdon fleet commander. Suddenly he wasn't sure he could bare to look him in the eyes.

  "What would you have me do?" Command asked. "Abandon our plans? ...Turn around and make nice so we can be crushed between two larger forces and eliminated?"

  "I don't know, Command," Drewsk replied. "But make no mistake...the situation you are in now, you brought upon yourself. You can't blame Athelon for this."

  Command's smile is wide and tooth-filled. "Braxis clings to my every word, Mr. Graver. Blame will rest wherever I point. Our plans will continue, whether or not Brie Northstar is here to help."

  "Don't underestimate her."

  Command stifled a chuckle. "Of course not. I wouldn't dream of underestimating a nineteen year-old, disabled Athelonian who only lives because I wish it. She must be respected!"

  Drewsk
smirked. "Have it your own way." He started to walk away with Loren falling in behind him.

  "Graver!" Command shouted as he walked away. "As I said, choose your words carefully. When all is said and done, I will be standing atop the bodies. You can either be by my side or under my feet."

  Drewsk nodded without looking back, then continued his forward march towards the exit.

  #

  The dark ocean of nothingness stretches out forever in all directions, swallowing the massive Reblon Battle Cruiser. Flanking the mammoth vehicle is a swarm of smaller space craft, a phalanx of warships and interceptors cruising in formation on a purposeful course through the outer reaches of space.

  "Is this the right move, Commandant Loresk?" Admiral Flurogh asks as he reads the space map and plots their course. "The war is at a critical juncture, we should not be giving Athelon an ounce of breathing room."

  "I agree," Loresk responds while looking at the same map with his large, fur-covered arms draped over his chest as he peers down over them.

  Extending one arm he points to a cluster of colored dots in the upper regions of Athelon's atmosphere.

  "This is the brunt of our offensive here. Athelon has set up their perimeter defenses and is trading us blow-for-blow. Within a few days this area may very well be impassable for larger craft."

  "So the current plan is to circle around here?" Flurogh asked, coming around the three dimensional image and pointing towards an area of apparently vacant space.

  "That is our initial target, but keep in mind that our intelligence has told us that Athelon is developing long range reconnaissance technology that may very well give up our position before our ships are in place."

  "What is our fall back?"

  "We have no fall back. On the belly of our Battle Cruiser we carry the tactical device. The sixteen gigaton cell cannon. The sheer power of this weapon from close distance could flatten a four thousand square meter piece of Athelon. From a closer distance we could pinpoint target a smaller region, like a city."

  "Adroxis?" Flurogh asked.

  "Perhaps."

  "What of the revelations about Braxis?"