Mourning Ember

by Odin Oxthorn

  A ray of light showered her from above, breaking apart the shadows of the watchful capital ship. She looked up to the transport vessel from the Armored Wake gliding down to meet her. With a hiss, it gently touched the surface and opened its doors, revealing Commander Tosk at its helm.

  “Awaiting your entry, Savant.”

  ##10.5##

  The command deck of the Armored Wake was a beautifully crafted machine that projected efficiency with the highest level of modern technology. On the observation platform, Nara watched the movements of the migrating fleet, her arms folded in disdain. The viewscreen displayed the glittering backdrop of space, disrupted by the pack of GaPFed ships encroaching on their territory.

  The foreign fleet drifted with a careful slink, their haunches coiled, their fangs bared. The Alpha of the pack was a sizeable capitol ship, the rigid geometric maw sniffing out the area with its numerous sensory fangs. Frigates and bombers glided within their leader’s reach, their engines blazing against the starlight with a menacing glow.

  “Commander,” the communications officer reported from their station. “We are being hailed.”

  “Put them on screen,” Tosk replied.

  The panels of the observation post warped, colors shifting to reveal a human adorned with armored regalia, a plated uniformed suiting decorated with a vast collection of bars and badges.

  “This is Admiral Rothgar of the GaPFed High Command.” The officer’s eyes scanned over the Wake’s bridge crew, her uncertainty reflecting in augmented neon eyes. “We have come in aid of the refugees seeking asylum from the current government in power. Cease your assault and present the captives immediately.”

  “You are interrupting delicate negotiations between two factions here.” Nara let her scorn slip from her tongue. “Leave our airspace at once.”

  The Admiral was not moved by the order. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “I am Savant Elam’Mutavreh of the Council of the Past, current residing power over the World Council on Homeworld.” She glanced down at her nails. “I believe your federation is familiar with my name.”

  “Indeed.” Rothgar exchanged glances with her assisting commanders. “Your faction is in violation of—”

  “You are disrupting peace talks between both factions.” Nara cut her off. “I am not going to repeat myself again. Your presence is not needed, nor is it welcome.”

  “Distress signals tell me otherwise,” Rothgar snapped, her lip curled into a snarl. “If you do not comply, we will have no choice but to take action.”

  Nara bared her fangs with a grin, shifting her stance and releasing a welcoming gesture out to the admiral. “Try me.”

  Tosk nodded to their technician, who turned to conduct a symphony of lights on the dashboard. The Armored Wake’s hull warmed to a smoldering glow as a scintillating cloud of swirling teals and creams warped over the metal. The material collected at the bow, extruding into a concentrated central beam. The tip swelled into a white-hot magma orb, expanding out of the ship and threatening to consume all in its path. The ship’s status alerts chimed into the command deck.

  SYSTEMS REROUTING. STAND BY FOR DISCHARGE.

  A devastating howl ramped within the bridge, the war cry shuddering the viewscreen as the immense flow of energy coursed through the ship. The orb outside suddenly burst apart, spreading out a net of energy spanning four times the width of the Wake. Swirls of energy warmed space with their protective blanket.

  The neighboring ships followed suit, turning to face the oncoming GaPFed ships and launching their shields to protect their flock within their wings. Ships repositioned themselves around the planet’s artificial gaseous forcefield, the edges of each net joining in glowing seams around orbit.

  From within the gas cloud surrounding the habitable core, the automated systems ignited the air. Scores of glittering satellites formed their own barrier, a secondary line of defense burning just outside the atmosphere.

  “Homeworld to Wake,” a voice announced by the coms. “Planetary shielding initialized from surface stations. Standing by for further instruction.”

  The final layer revealed itself. Colossal beams of glowing pink burst between the corners of each net, the columns as thick as the Wake’s main hull. It fed its energy into the fleet’s shielding, amplifying its intensity and sending the web alight with fire.

  A sly grin etched over Nara’s face, watching the GaPFed representative’s awestruck expression at the display. “Do you have anything else you wish to bring to my attention, Admiral?”

  “Your instigation of violence is unwarranted,” Rothgar protested, snapping her gaze back to Nara. “We will not leave until the refugees are safely within GaPFed custody.”

  “Then you will be waiting. Once we have established our new treaty, we will be willing to discuss matters within.” Nara stepped forward, widening her stance. “A group of representatives will be in contact with a proposal of demands. Please use this time to deescalate tensions and approach us with neutral intent. We are not interested in war. Elam out.”

  Chapter 11

  ##11.0##

  One fire at bay. For now. Nara exited the transport vehicle and headed for her apartment in the lab. The discussion can wait a single fucking day so I can get some sleep.

  She caught Fariem’s eyes as she entered. The researcher averted their gaze, sensing her displeasure and weariness. The last few nights took a toll on everyone’s nerves, and she was grateful for the peace. She did not have the strength to hide her exhaustion from them, anyway.

  “They’re in the third room down the hall,” they called to her.

  She stopped in her steps, the information scrambling her mental process. The human was far away from her immediate thoughts, and she hadn’t even considered him since the attack. He was dropped on Fariem’s doorstep to deal with, but apparently, she was not absolved of responsibility.

  “Right.” She raised a hand to the security system of her apartment, only to feel a warm sensation nagging at the back of her head. The burn emanating from Fariem’s judgmental glare.

  “Fine. I will see if they need anything.” She hurled a sigh and meandered to the infirmary.

  Garrett was lying on his back in the hospital bed, his eyes fixated on the ceiling which was projecting a swirling galaxy. Millions of stars glittered above, the scene taken from reference photos that orbital drones captured.

  Sensor cuffs were wrapped around his arms and legs. Strips of lights murmured the progression of cell regeneration. His chest was coated in silver bands, the cool tones contrasting against the sickly patches of bruises covering his bare skin.

  “Hey.” Nara leaned against the doorway, her legs starting to give her warning twangs of their depleted energy.

  “Mmm,” he managed to mutter, his eyes never leaving the twinkling stars of the digital display.

  “Fariem been tending to you?”

  He blinked and suddenly snapped his gaze to her. “Are you going to war?”

  She stared at him, the words struggling to manifest in her throat. His mental state came into question, unsure of how conscious Fariem permitted him to be. “I… stoked quite a few fires. It is possible.”

  “Why?”

  The point-blank question stabbed her with pointed knives. To have the gall to ask the galaxy to stop turning, to change people within an instant. Her anger got the better of her, voice studded with razors. “Are you that naïve?”

  Silence responded. Not even a wince.

  She clenched her knuckles, forcing her eyes shut. The torrent swirling around her brain teased at her senses, and she focused her mind on calming the storm.

  “Why do you have to make the call?” His voice was vacant, soft, yet weighted. “People can take care of it.”

  “How dare you?” Pulses of her internal rhythm broke off in concussive beats. The storm raged, despite her best efforts, her nerves quaking as the human’s words reverberated across her ears. “You would have had the same power if you didn’
t waste your time prancing around Undercity. How many lives would have been in your hands?”

  “I—”

  “And you fucking ran away from it.” She gave him no quarter in his fragile state, cutting him down to shreds. “You ask me how well I sleep at night, but how can you fathom shirking that responsibility? Coward.”

  “Leave.” The warning hissed out of his lips, but his expression remained distant.

  The violence wreaking havoc in her systems fogged her vision, her nails digging furrows of skin within her quaking fists.

  “Fine.” She swallowed the acid etching her throat and stormed out, slinging a venomous glare at Fariem lurking near the doorway.

  When stillness had returned, Fariem stepped inside, picking at the machinery monitoring Garrett’s condition.

  “You heard every word,” Garrett grumbled. The medic made no acknowledgement. “Well, go on. Please tell me how much of a vile creature I am.”

  “There is no concept of good and evil here.” They ran their fingers over their tablet, checking the dosage of the herbal remedies saturating his veins. “Just people saying and doing objectionable things with varying degrees of intent.”

  “Really, now?”

  They glided to a burner at a workstation. “Tea?”

  “You going to poison it?” He eyed them suspiciously.

  “Don’t tempt me, meat bag,” they scolded as they prepared a healing concoction, souring the atmosphere with the scent of bitter herbs. After pouring the steaming pale broth into a drinking vessel, they opened a collection of jars, spooning in an assortment of syrups and gelatinous blobs. With the elixir complete, they handed the vessel to him.

  What does Elam see in this individual? They watched intently as the human examined the mixture, tilting their head curiously.

  Garrett furrowed his brow at the scrutiny. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Just as stubborn as Elam,” Fariem murmured with a smirk.

  “Pardon?”

  “Do you want something to help you sleep?” they offered, pulling out more jars from the cabinet. “Perhaps something to clarify your thoughts when you wake up?”

  Garret exhaled, feeling the pull of the medical garments against his skin. “Sure. Just fuck me up.”

  “Therapeutic fornication is not my field of study,” Fariem chastised, setting a tray down with a collection of salves and gauzes. “Neither is it recommended in your condition.

  “That’s not—”

  “I am aware.” They let a smirk shine through and rolled a stool next to the bed.

  A tenuous solace began to waft the tension from the room, dotted by the clicks and sloshes of Fariem’s diligent hands picking through their concoctions. They let the human settle and set to work on a pain management regimen, mixing a rainbow of oils inside a small dish.

  Satisfied with the texture, they added a clear balm into the mixture, binding it to a useable paste. They took a dry cloth and dipped the material in, then began to brush the human’s affected areas. No reaction from their work, no jolts or winces from the pain.

  “Fariem?” His voice was gentle yet lacked a spirit at the core.

  “Yes, Garrett?”

  “What does it all mean?”

  They ceased their work, cleaning up the materials and setting them aside. The human was distraught, their world shattered before them. It was cruel to feed into their despair, no matter their opinions of them. “Go to sleep, Ahm’Xant.”

  “Yes, Fariem.”

  The medic dimmed the lights to a soothing warm glow before exiting the room, pausing to regard the human. With a head shake, they left to return to their duties.

  A soft hum of wind protected Garrett from the thoughts of isolation, the artificial ambience a comfort. Pain from his shattered bones had subsided thanks to Fariem’s treatment, but the events had left a mark over him. Alone in the dark. No doors, no windows. Entombed in the earth for only the Fates knew what purpose.

  He picked up the gaseous froth Fariem set aside for him, taking a delicate sip. It was a sharp, fruity tang, the effervescence scraping against his taste buds. It was easy to swallow despite the conglomeration of textures, the soft herbs dancing in a melody of citrusy delight.

  The experience of his internment was difficult to process. Motivation was an enigma. Human logic did not apply here. Nara was right. He was a sheltered individual. The thought of war terrified him, but he had to admit, he could not comprehend what the word truly meant.

  He was protected from the struggles of Under and Uppercity, the terrorist strikes a thousand miles away. But the news reports always framed them the same way. Bodies and fires smoking in the lowest pits of civilization. Articles proclaimed a hopeless future. The actions and lives taken could not have been avoided.

  The war games played here reflected a similar theme. Bombs exploding, people suffering in grievous conditions. He was terrified at how close he was to this magnitude of destruction. And yet, reality was different here, an almost overbearing sense of empathy that kept them from destroying populations with a single button press.

  He could feel the concoction stir inside him, pulling his brain into a slog. His eyelids began to weigh down on him.

  Does any of it even matter?

  He blinked, the glow of the nightlights saturating his brain. The descent of gravity toyed with his body while the inebriation pulled him down. Shadows played inside his vision, a presence creeping up to his side. Quiet.

  Ice pressed against his wrist, a fluttering of fingers. His slurred mind grasped at the familiar shape of his NetComm, attached to his wrist with a pristine new band. He blinked, trying to mold the light into something comprehensible.

  “You…” His brain refused to connect to his voice.

  The invader hesitated, regarding him with a familiar devious smile. With a blink, they were gone.

  ##11.1##

  Blood boiled under her skin, the day’s events crushing her beneath a boulder of futility. Her knuckles were sheet white as she cinched the carton in her hands, the liquid violently sloshing as she paced back and forth across her office.

  No one gets to choose the die they are cast, she seethed. Why should he?

  She tossed her head back and drained the carton, the liquid quenching the furnace inside her throat. With a snap of an arm, she launched the container at the wall, the degradable material hitting the metal with a dissatisfying thwap.

  Another was awaiting her on the desk, one of many already consumed. She had lost count. Her habitual consumption from Arcadia bled into her subconscious. But she saw no need to stop, tearing off the seal of another with a fervent claw, then downing the contents in one ragged gulp.

  She leaned against the desk, her unsteady hands braced against the surface. Despite the inebriation taunting her senses, her mood had not improved. Hatred began to seep in, destruction, resolution nowhere in sight.

  The chemicals assailed her legs as she staggered toward the window, her ire amplified with each decaying step. She paused after three steps, the sensation in her muscles flickering with needles. Her foot met the ground, her pathetic fingers clawing at the air to catch her. The room swirled around her, lights fading with each slowed breath.

  Her ankle caved beneath her as the floor tilted sharply. She made no attempt to catch herself, letting the lightning flash in her brain where her head landed.

  Thunder pounded in her skull, threatening to drown her in a sea of hopelessness. She watched a glimmer of liquid stream out in front of her view. Red slowly dissolved into grey, the atmosphere pressing down on her.

  What the fuck is the point?

  ##11.2##

  Garrett awoke from a deep, invigorating sleep, the last few hours of tumult outside his mental reach. A calming energy coursed through his muscles, the ache of his capture subsiding. He flexed his arms experimentally, finding the twang of movement had left him.

  Huh. He carefully slid around, rising to a seated position. Still nothing.
>
  Draping his legs over the gurney, he examined his ribs for evidence of the damage. With an awkward scooch, he lowered his leg until a toe scraped over the floor. Filling his lungs with a bracing draught of air, he gently shifted his weight on the damaged foot. He lifted his backside off the bed, releasing his breath as he took to his feet.

  Vitality swelled around his body. An otherworldly sense of confidence filled him with determination. I need to make amends.

  He walked through the complex and headed for the apartment, taking slow, meticulous steps to avoid additional damage to unhealed ligaments. The lab was quiet, no one around to inquire of his well-being or chastise him for moving.

  He approached the apartment door, and an overbearing sense of dread tingled his scalp. There was a stillness inside, not unexpected. Nara thrived in silence. It was almost impossible to discern whether she was even at home.

  But it wasn’t the quiet that bothered him. A sensation. Warning alarms inside his subconscious.

  He opened the door. The stillness magnified.

  “Nara?” he called out. Nothing. Perhaps she isn’t here.

  He warily climbed the stairs, discovering the door to Nara’s office open. Bumps manifested on his skin as he neared. A trail of cartons traced a path deeper into the den. His eyes followed to find Nara’s body, cold and listless, sprawled over the floor. Her eyes were open, staring listlessly ahead of her, a puddle of blood clinging to the cool metal ground.

  “Nara!” He scrambled to her side, clawing at her unresponsive arm. “Hey, can you hear me?”

  He waved a palm above her nostrils. She wasn’t breathing. SHIT! Oh, gods, No!