by KT Belt
She nodded and turned to her display, too curious to stop herself from looking around. “I see a door,” she said.
Inertia glanced at her screen and nodded as well. “Let’s disembark.”
“All right,” she muttered as she gripped her sword. This time, there was no question in her mind that she should bring it. Whether it would be needed she couldn’t say.
She followed Inertia out of the relative safety of the ship. It wasn’t a very big vessel, but here and now, it felt like it took hours for them to reach the exit ramp. This place—this rock in the middle of nowhere—seemed so cold, so alien. There was nothing to sense or perceive. Forgotten grains of sand had greater stories to tell than this…construct.
Inertia stopped at the exit ramp but made no move to actually open it. Carmen looked at him expectantly. He returned the look.
“Edge,” he started. He didn’t usually address her by name. He always had her complete attention, now her atoms snapped to the ready. “Follow my lead no matter what happens or what it is,” he said. Carmen nodded thoughtfully. “No hesitation. We’re all alone out here, and I’m sure you know what that means if anything happens,” he added with real worry in his voice.
She looked at him as she considered everything. “What do you think we’ll find?”
“I don’t know,” he said. Then he pressed the button to open the ramp.
The dry, almost dead, air of the landing platform flooded into The Lady. Even the Clairvoyants subconsciously raised their hands to shield themselves from it. All was still afterward. They walked down the platform, accompanied by no sound, no nothing. Carmen couldn’t recall ever experiencing such a scene. It was like she was watching everything through a telescope. The lights never wavered, and the air was dry and unmoving yet thick like a fog. Even her Clairvoyant senses were dulled. She perceived distantly, if at all.
She looked up just in time to see the entrance to the tunnel close. The stars, though steady like the lights all around her, were not of the static artificial edifice she was currently encased within. The stars were much too far away to feel, unlike the power surging in The Lady’s main reactor. Yet Carmen felt a painful lamentation when the tunnel sealed shut and the view was taken away.
Rather than dwelling on their situation, she turned her attention to the door they were walking toward. Inertia stopped just in front of it.
“Do you sense anything on the other side?” he asked.
“I don’t sense anything,” Carmen replied glumly.
He nodded slowly, and that was all she needed to know that he experienced the same. Neither of them moved to open the door. There was no visible means to open it, which prompted Inertia to rip it open telekinetically. This new corridor looked much like the tunnel The Lady had descended through. It was dimly lit, and the air was just as dead as on the landing platform. Carmen wondered how this place could exist without some sort of ventilation system. Nothing moved, nothing happened. Everything just sat…still.
She glanced at Inertia. He gave her a look and then walked inside. She followed slightly behind. The tunnel was a nondescript gray and seemed machine-cast as a solid piece. She looked back at The Lady and was reminded of the stars from earlier. Just then, they rounded a corner, and the starship was gone as well.
They walked on. The path was straight, yet Carmen felt utterly lost. Time and distance were hard to determine. She tried to count the lights they passed to keep track of how far they travelled, but when the count got to the triple digits, she gave up. I hate this place, she thought over and over again. If anything was readily apparent, it was that. This was so numbing yet so eternal that it was worse than the horrors of the facility. It seemed like this place could consume the whole of her life on a triviality. It was then that they came upon some choices, as the corridor branched into three others.
There was no sign, marking, or anything to indicate a direction or place. There was, however, one difference between the paths. Only one was lighted. It would be quite a stretch to call the nondescript, bare corridor inviting, but it seemed the better option than walking in the dark. Carmen glanced at Inertia. She said nothing, though several comments and questions came to mind. He turned to look at her then. It was brief, only a second or so, but she knew she was being evaluated again. Their eyes met without challenge or waver. As his eyebrows rose and his jaw relaxed, she realized it wasn’t an evaluation of her state but of her opinion. She gave a small nod, and he began walking down the lighted corridor.
She followed, and was tempted to ask if he’d ever experienced something like this before. But her surroundings were so dimly perceived, so unreal in their stark reality, that giving voice to it made her worry that the universe, such as it was presently, would shatter all around her. Nonsense, she thought. But Carmen’s lips stayed still nonetheless.
She only subconsciously felt herself lean back as the slope of the corridor changed to lead them deeper. It turned slightly, possibly doubling back on itself. The Clairvoyants dutifully followed. Even they were past the point of questioning this. There were no other options to make such a query worthwhile. The corridor eventually straightened, and the sheer extent of it, for as far as could be seen, made Carmen’s eyes grow wide. She stopped in place.
Carmen looked in both directions. If she closed her eyes, spun in place, and then opened them again, she wouldn’t have any idea the direction in which they had come.
“Inertia, I—” she began, but she stopped when the lights cut out all of a sudden.
The dark was unmerciful in its completeness. There was nothing other than the black. Her Clairvoyant senses flared to life by reflex, and it was then that she finally became aware of one thing. Someone else was here.
A distinct, pained groan in front of her filled the corridor. She was able to recognize the voice as Inertia’s and could even discern him falling to the ground. But there was no time to be concerned. She had barely raised her hands to defend herself before she was reeling back into the wall. The surprise stung more than the pain. She was hit again, and fear began to take her. They were under siege by a Clairvoyant; she had no doubt about that. The precision and speed of their assailant was akin to nothing she had seen before. And the presence—the unmistakable verve, focus, and purposeful violence—could only be from a monster of the Dark.
Her mind raced. She had expected to fight. She had even mentally prepared herself to fight. But now fighting was not her first reflex. Carmen’s arms flailed in front of her in a useless attempt to protect herself. She shuffled back, away from the threat, and into a wall, for the good that did. She was hit once more and, for one brief moment, she thought there were tears in her eyes.
Where was Inertia? Why wasn’t he helping her? She’d heard him get hurt. She’d heard him fall. Was he dead? Her entire body ached, but she hadn’t been hit hard enough to be broken. A painful hit to her midsection, however, put that to the test. Carmen fell to one knee and wrapped her arms around her body, cradling it. A punch to her face dropped her to the ground. A kick sent her sailing across it. She couldn’t think anymore. She couldn’t even feel anymore. Her emotions were a jumbled, irrational mess of fear and worry, but most prominent of all, doubt. Instinct was all that remained and all that was needed.
A long-sleeping beast stirred, called to action by the plight of its master. It had been forgotten, hated even, and made to think it no longer existed. Now it was deemed quite necessary. Carmen didn’t even notice the brief illumination of the corridor from a spark along her arm. She’d come upon this moment before in her life, the pause before she was unleashed. When she was a child, she’d considered the power, the surge, and the focus, completely natural. After Mikayla’s death, that moment became mixed with quiet dread for the consequences. Now, she let go a contented sigh.
Carmen got to her feet. Her power flowed from her core to her extremities in brilliant electrical sparks which attenuated to nothingness at her fingertips. Their light, however, let her plainly if dimly see her enemy.
&nb
sp; It was a Clairvoyant. He was functionally muscled, as was typical, and noticeably taller than her. He looked similar to the Clairvoyant Constructs that had attacked the facility. At least, of all that was happening, that final clue that they were on the right track was comforting.
He stood before her in a guard. There was nothing wrong with it, but there was something wrong with him. He felt different from every other Clairvoyant she had ever sensed. He had the same vibrancy and focus that every Clairvoyant possessed, but it seemed muted somehow. The dynamism just did not compare. It didn’t ebb and flow. It didn’t change, grow, adapt, get weaker, or surge forth. He didn’t seem alive, just a well-made approximation. For some reason, just looking at the abomination disgusted her. Carmen pursed her lips as she remembered her fundamental hatred for all the Constructs she had slayed. A moment later, her bioelectric field rebalanced, ending the sparks, and the two were recloaked in the dark.
A singular punch rushed toward her. She knew by means she could not say that another would follow soon thereafter. A casual block deflected the first blow. A step to the side, a tilt of her head, and a masterfully timed counterpunch made her opponent’s follow-up attack a fool’s errand. Clairvoyants recovered differently from physical trauma than the normals. They most assuredly felt pain, but it could be ignored and even used as fuel for more power. She felt his face deform under the pressure of her fist, but all he did was stagger back and then come at her again with renewed fury.
She stepped around his next attack. Each of her movements was graceful and full of poise but direct in its economy. A kick at the optimum moment doubled him over. A hard, precise punch broke his cheek and jaw, knocked four teeth loose, and sent blood invisibly spraying across the darkened walls. He came at her again, but it was obvious that his reserves were gone. The attack lacked any semblance of speed and contained a hint of desperation. It was time to end it. Her final attack’s swiftness belied its simplicity. He lunged at her. She took a step back and punched him as hard as was necessary in the chest. He fell forward and didn’t get up again.
And then it happened. His body failed, and the last breath of his consciousness assaulted hers. She groaned uncomfortably. It had been too long since her last time. She had forgotten that she’d feel everything. Worse, long buried memories and sensations came flooding back in that instant. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth through a scream.
When Carmen opened her eyes, the lights were on, and they were no longer alone. Metal panels exploded out from the bare, nondescript walls of the corridor and in poured dozens of armed sortens from both the front and behind. Their formation and demeanor, for what it was worth, was chillingly professional. Their thoughts didn’t waver, from what Carmen could read. All weapons were trained, and the intent was clear: kill the Clairvoyant by any means necessary.
Carmen regained her composure and then looked at the group arrayed in front her. She turned and looked at the group set against her back. Then she rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips while she tapped an impatient foot. Body language didn’t always translate as well as words to alien mentalities, but a few of her opposition gave the sorten equivalent of a sneer. She guessed her message was well received.
She ignored them and turned her attention to Inertia. His face was bloody. In fact, his face was a gruesome mess, but only superficially so. There was a cut on his forehead and that was it. She looked at him hard when he stood up. She just couldn’t figure out how his injury had been so debilitating. Gungnir said the two of them were roughly equal in power. Till now, there had been nothing to suggest otherwise. She didn’t think she’d be incapacitated by the attack he suffered. He seemed fine now, though. Whatever the truth was, a Clairvoyant couldn’t be affected by their own energy, so she telekinetically lifted the blood and temporarily sealed his cut with heat.
He walked to stand side by side with her. They glanced at each other, wondering how long they needed to wait. The answer came soon enough.
“Clairvoyants… Formidable creatures,” a voice in front of them and out of sight said. “Don’t be fooled by their discipline.”
The voice moved toward them from the front. The soldiers parted in trained unison, and their obvious leader came into view. He didn’t wear the battle armor of his counterparts, just enough to protect the vitals. He was just as well armed though. A projectile rifle mounted on his shoulder tracked them, Carmen in particular.
He stopped in front of the dead Clairvoyant Construct and didn’t speak while he examined the body. He looked up at her and then almost respectfully backed away.
“See how easily they defeated one of our best copies?” he continued. “If they wanted to fight us, I’d give our chances at five percent. Everyone, study the tapes of their battle at half speed at most until every movement can be described in your sleep. We begin new battle readiness drills in the morning.”
No one else spoke. That was, until a soft voice shattered the silence. “Battle readiness drills. That would be prudent, Director Mugal.”
This one emerged from behind the soldiers just as the director had, but this sorten was different. He walked toward them on his hind legs, which wasn’t too unusual. Sortens did walk upright from time to time, even if it wasn’t a matter of course. However, his right arm and leg were robotized prosthetics. Carmen couldn’t help but stare. Lost limbs could be regrown. It had to be an active choice to be hobbled by such clunky alternatives.
He stopped next to Mugal and looked at the Clairvoyants for a moment. His stare didn’t carry the hearty respect of the director’s, nor was it afraid or even worried. He seemed…amused.
“Yes, I do rather enjoy your drills,” he said. “To watch is to see ants running in circles to turn back the sun.”
Mugal glanced at him but made no response. It was then that Carmen noticed this sorten’s face had patches without fur. The skin there was badly burned, leathery blisters. He walked toward them and stopped halfway. Not a single step hesitated. He even turned his back to them to look directly at the director.
“Do the Clairvoyant beasts look wary entering here, Mugal?” he asked. Then he turned and looked at Carmen, at Inertia, and finally at the dead Clairvoyant Construct. “We stand at the edge of their realm, scared to even look at it. While they play, understanding, knowing, and laughing.” He paused before he spoke again. “The Dark cannot be controlled, only survived,” he said under his breath as he patted his prosthetic arm. Then he sauntered off. The sorten ranks broke to allow him to pass, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
Well, that was strange, Carmen thought as she glanced at Inertia. He returned her look, and it was obvious that he didn’t know what to make of it either. The assembled soldiers broke ranks on some unheard command and retreated back into the walls. Another sorten bounded toward them, stopping next to Mugal who had remained. The new sorten wasn’t armed or especially unusual.
“Please forgive our project leader, Caelus. He is one of the most gifted among us, but it appears genius has its cost,” he said. “Since I’m sure no one made any formal introductions, the fearsome individual next to me is Security Director Mugal,” he continued. “My name is Rauon; I’m the head technician. We were told that you were interested in being employed by us?”
Carmen looked at Inertia. It was tempting to answer the rather simple question herself, but he had said she should follow his lead.
“Yes, that is correct,” he answered.
“Excellent,” Rauon replied enthusiastically. “Speak to me for anything you need. And since not all of us wish to refer to you as Clairvoyant beasts,” he said with a hint of annoyance, “what are your names?”
Carmen was ready for this. “I was named Psyche,” she said.
Inertia glanced at her and slowly shook his head. “Inertia,” he said simply.
Carmen flashed him a look. “Why are you using your real name? Won’t they be able to track you down with it?” she asked telepathically.
“Trust me, it won’t mat
ter,” he replied.
“We’re pleased to have you. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show each of you—”
“Excuse me,” Inertia interrupted. “We’re married. We will be roomed together,” he added with emphasis.
Rauon looked at Mugal, who nodded after a time. “Yes, of course,” Rauon replied.
Carmen spun in place to look at Inertia as her mouth fell open. “Wait, what?”
15
Pinpoints of Light
Carmen studied every move Inertia made as they walked. His movements, while direct and flowing like all Clairvoyants, also held a certain weight and power that was subtle but obvious to those who were looking. Inertia moved just like the way he spoke: slow, methodical, and seemingly carefree…yet also not. He had her complete attention now. She didn’t care where they were going. She didn’t care what was happening. They could have just walked past the fiery gates of hell, for all she’d notice.
“Married,” she said telepathically for about the millionth time. “What do you mean we’re married?”
He still gave no words in response. She glared at him, though she wasn’t actually angry. Well, she was, but the emotion couldn’t be described so simply. She could think of no one in her life who had ever treated her as he did. Most everyone existed as a prisoner of her mood, placating her and trying their best to please her, even to the point of her exasperation. They feared that one day, someway, somehow, she’d snap and go on a killing spree. Carmen did her best to give no proof that such a day would ever come, but she guessed she had just gotten used to the terrified deference of everyone around her. Even Michael, before he’d gotten sick, was quietly wary of her. Inertia was no such thing. He prodded her. He challenged her. And she didn’t like any of it. Though she also had to admit she’d do anything he said without a second thought. She couldn’t make much sense of the dynamic.
“Well?” she asked again.