Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  What a perfect disguise it had been. Peter had known the true Araman upon one of the moons of Bravoral. The boy had indeed been among the brightest minds he had ever met, but Araman had been conquered by his own talent and ultimately taken his own life. It was at that time that Erebus had first been discovered. Peter had originally been upon Bravoral in his investigation of the inexplicable disappearances of several eminent scientists from various fields including astrobiology and xenopetrology. Commander Constantine Lesper had arrived on the moon to visit Araman after Peter made sure his academic project became eminent enough to attract the attention of whoever was gathering the prominent scientists. Without the true Araman to attend Lesper’s invitation, Peter had altered his appearance and taken on the boy’s identity; and in that way found himself summoned to the top-secret station, Erebus.

  The metal hatch before him rose, revealing the darkness and the ominous creature within. The ill-omened sensation of déjà vu flickered across his mind. He looked to either side at the Professor and the Commander, both of whom were sporting avid smirks.

  It had only been upon arrival at Tempest-Beta and the orbiting station that Peter’s gift unexpectedly ceased. At first it was unnoticeable; but over time he began to age normally; he started to feel things he hadn’t felt in so many years: vulnerable, fearful . . . weak. Unable to leave, and without the power to force his way off the station, he was totally and utterly helpless. Though he knew something was interesting about the station, something within which had even stripped him of the power to heal, he could never have guessed the evil they had woken.

  Kramer’s hand rested on his stiff shoulder and the beast’s unmistakable hiss filled the black-walled room as the light flared on and off, forcing Peter to step back.

  ‘Captain Berenguer,’ the Professor said. ‘Dathlan, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes . . . err . . . yes, I am,’ Peter replied tentatively. But it was not him speaking. Somebody was using his voice. Dathlan Berenguer: the previous captain of Erebus station. No!

  ‘Now you have seen for yourself a physical sample of the fifteen specimens,’ Lesper said, ‘we need your go ahead for the trial.’

  ‘What trial?’ Peter asked.

  ‘Subject Sixteen,’ Kramer answered. ‘I was under the impression you’d read the file we delivered you.’

  Peter frowned. ‘I did. But I assumed it was all hypothetical. You can’t really be ready to try that thing on humans!’

  ‘Ready, equipped, and more than willing.’ The Professor paced around the table towards him, angling his head with arms folded.

  Peter, controlled by the body he currently occupied, took a deep breath. ‘No.’

  Kramer unfolded his arms and began tapping his face-covering as though beating out the rapid rhythm in his chest. ‘We cannot do this without your support, Dathlan.’

  Peter thought quickly. He was not in control because this wasn’t really happening; he was suffering a vision; he was witnessing what was contained inside the beast’s mind; the beast created on Erebus. But it was not a vision. It was a memory.

  He spun and moved for the exit, but Kramer blocked his way.

  ‘Get out of the way, Xerin.’

  ‘Only when you start to see things from our point of view!’

  Suddenly filled with panic he opened the hatch, but Kramer slammed it shut. ‘Imagine what we could achieve!’ he said; ‘the progress we could make!’

  Dathlan Berenguer stepped back. ‘But at what cost?’

  Lesper’s voice sounded from behind him. ‘We’re done persuading. Either he’s in or he’s out.’

  Dathlan looked his commander in the eye. ‘I’m out,’ he said. ‘And so are you.’

  SLAM! A fist made contact with his face, throwing him backwards. As he twisted, face numb and vision dazed, he watched Lesper pull a heavy metal bar from behind him. He raised his hands in vain as Lesper brought the bar down swiftly. A dull pain preceded hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  PETER OPENED HIS eyes. He woke to the sound of dark, skeletal creatures, crying and calling and screaming and bounding wildly to and fro as the horned beast split in many directions at once, ripping and shredding and tearing to pieces whatever it could get its claws into. Blood and bone was everywhere.

  He stood. The beast spun and charged straight for him. He held out his arms but nothing happened. The creature continued forwards and Peter threw himself to the ground; the beast flew past him, scraping its claws across his face, and disappeared over the edge of the pit. His gift had no effect. But how?! Peter touched the bloody wound above his eye. It hadn’t healed!

  He picked himself up and charged past the remaining Zinn, up the circling steps, and away from the hysterical chamber. His old friend had come for him. Lucasta was waiting just beyond the tunnel. He could still make it out alive; but there wasn’t much time. Only minutes until the explosive detonated, burying everything beneath dense, dark, alien rock.

  He tore through the tunnel, his returning enhanced vision lighting the way, making several metres with each leap, running faster than he had run in years. In no more than a minute he arrived at the tunnel’s end. And there he stopped, dazed and entranced, as the old, frail, but resilient form of Lucasta stood before him. She turned and stared back. She no longer looked as he remembered, but the meeting of those two ancient souls was like the light cast as the sun’s rays strike the moon and splendid beauty is all that follows.

  They rushed forwards and embraced. After being apart for half a century, neither could believe it was the other stood before them. He was her guide and her strength; she was his love and protector. Peter couldn’t find the words to say, and simply held her tight, tears streaming down his flushing face. She looked down at him, kissed him on the cheek, and held his face in shaking hands.

  ‘You look just like you did when we parted, Peter.’

  ‘And you Lucasta . . . you . . . you look so . . .’

  ‘Old?’

  He smiled. ‘Lucasta, we need to leave.’

  ‘Not yet, Peter.’

  ‘We have no time—’

  ‘NO! I have waited long enough. Allow me this!’

  She hugged him again. Her body felt frail to hold. Ahead, beside the collapsed craft and the Titanese shuttle carrier, he saw a strange, dark-red ship, ultimatt engines loud and deep. Everybody but Antal and Anna were onboard. They could finally leave.

  Lucasta leaned back and stroked his cheek, beaming broadly.

  ‘How did you know to come here?’ he asked.

  ‘I received your call, at long last. We were given your coordinates and I followed your life sign down here.’

  He couldn’t believe it. ‘Lucasta,’ he said, a shudder sinking down his spine, ‘I didn’t send a call . . .’

  ‘WATCH OUT!’

  * * *

  This was it. Their final chance to leave. But as Anna felt Justus’ hand push her out of the way as he cried aloud and jumped towards Peter and Callista, she looked up and recoiled at the sight he had already spotted. A rumbling shook the ground, rattling broke upon her ears, and down the tunnel there charged countless howling forms. The Zinn were coming. Blood-thirsty and ferocious they stampeded through.

  ‘Outta’ the way!’ declared a voice and from out of the crimson ship the blonde, curly-haired woman stuck her head. Smiling through rose-red lipstick she opened a crate within the craft and out poured a dozen barking beasts.

  ‘Almuits!’ Justus cried, backing away from the ramp and grasping Anna rigidly.

  The frenzied canines charged past Peter and Callista and tore down the tunnel at the advancing Zinn, clashing in a rain of blood, fur, and bone. Growls and rattling howls echoed back, and the alien beings disappeared into the shadows.

  Justus laughed loudly with nerve-filled joy and Anna made ready to move when she spotted something.

  A shadow loomed.

  Her scream went silent.

  The shadow hung over the two Iástrons. Callista caught a glim
pse and stepped back. Peter was thrown aside and into the cave wall. ‘Callista!’ Anna cried, reaching out, but Justus held her back.

  Callista peered up at the powerful demon as it rose above her, horned head moving from side to side. She did not run, but raised her arms to find nothing happened. The beast knocked her back to the ground. The creature, larger and greater than the beasts within Erebus, advanced on the old woman. It hissed piercingly and went to strike—

  The ground collapsed beneath it. Peter Marx stood tall behind the beast and stretched out both his arms, causing the ground to fall through. Another bellowing hiss. Peter clenched his fists and brought down the ceiling from above. Stone and debris rained down, halting the beast. But it could not be stopped. It rose up once more as though the rock around it was nothing but sand. It moved again for Callista.

  A groaning rose above it and the smoking remains of the craft nearby soared through the air. Justus dove in between and pulled Callista back. From nearby the mountain of metal which made up the Stellarstream’s shuttle also lifted; and Peter caused the two to collide, crushing the beast between them.

  Anna helped Justus drag Callista back towards the dark-red ship. ‘We have to go,’ he said. ‘Kramer set a timer. A minute or two and this whole place is gone!’

  ‘Go!’ Callista. ‘Go inside!’

  But it was not over. Anna watched helplessly as the dark life form tore the crafts apart like paper and emerged once more. Peter was stranded on the other side of the demon, which twisted and stared at him, winding its neck left to right, perverted horns casting a looming shadow across his bleeding face. Scarlet trickled down over his eyes; there was nothing he could do. As the beast stepped towards him Peter cried, ‘I know who you are! I’ve seen it. I know what they did to you, Kramer and Lesper. You didn’t deserve it!’

  The beast stopped.

  ‘You are no demon!’ Peter screamed. ‘You are the Captain! You are Dathlan Berenguer. You are my friend!’

  Anna froze. ‘WHAT?’

  Justus looked to her. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Dathlan Berenguer . . . my . . . that’s my—’

  ‘No!’ cried Callista, taking hold of Anna and dragging her onboard the craft.

  ‘Antal!’ Peter called. ‘You have to go!’

  ‘Not without—’

  ‘There isn’t time! Keep your promise!’

  ‘No!’ Anna screamed. ‘We can’t leave! PETER!’

  The great beast turned and perceived her silently. Callista pulled her back and Justus stepped between them. But from behind it erupted a blinding burst of flame. It gushed forth from Peter, consuming the beast, which turned, unthinkably enraged, and threw itself at the great leader of the Iástrons, who in turn launched himself forward; and their clash rained rock and dust throughout the cave like a storm of meteors.

  Callista drew Anna back and Justus wrenched the hatch closed. But through the clouded porthole Anna watched Peter’s indomitable expression as he tussled with the creature . . . her father . . . and finally threw himself forward, disappearing over the edge of the cave’s precipice, dragging with him the beast. ‘Father!’

  She attempted to cry out, but no sound surfaced. Struggling furiously against Callista’s resilient grip she realised there was nothing she could do. They were going to leave Peter behind. She charged up to the cockpit where Justus and the blonde woman now sat. She fell at his knees.

  ‘Please, stop! We can save him.’ She looked to the woman. ‘We can’t just leave him!’

  But Justus said nothing. Paying no heed to her cries he lifted the ship and pushed them through the vast, winding caverns towards the purple flashes of light in the distance. Tears falling down her face she stood, holding her head in her hands, crying, ‘He knew my father! We need him! Callista needs him! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!’

  Swerving through the cave’s deadly interior Justus said nothing, and held his head down, focused, though he wept silently. And at once a blinding flash of light called out behind. Everything shook. Anna fell the wrong way and landed on her back.

  ‘Hold on!’ Justus shouted.

  Anna looked up. The flashes of lightning ahead called them closer, the flames and heat behind the ship pulling alongside.

  ‘Come on!’ Justus screamed. ‘Come on!’

  Anna rolled to the side. There knelt Callista, who pulled her up and held her close, rocking her from side to side as they were thrown about the ship. Ferranti lay with Gílana nearby. Gordian knelt beside, his head bowed down. A loud and formidable drone filled the ship and the bodies of everyone onboard. From the cockpit up ahead came a blinding light, and Anna, leaning into Callista with her head buried deep, thought and felt no more.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  SILENCE. CALM. SCENES of light and peace passed through her; pale mountain peaks; the gentle singing of water on rock; folding valleys beyond flowing red fog. Relief flushed through her body as Anna breathed slowly and gazed up at a pure white ceiling. She lay still for a long time, unable to recall the events which had led her to be lying there. Before long a cascade of memories stormed her mind, and the full realisation of the past few hours forced her to shut her eyes.

  When she woke again the shock was less harsh than before, though the sorrow could not be matched. She sat up, having been tucked warmly into a pale-sheeted bed; and in the silence of the room, interrupted only by the light beeping of monitoring machinery, she gazed across at her sister, who lay also in a tranquil peace. Just like an angel, she thought. She looked to her other side, where Diego Ferranti slept. His face was pale and covered in scalding scratches of fresh scarlet, while his arm was strung up and pointing to the ceiling.

  Carefully moving from her bed, her leg throbbing twinges of tender agony and the fair hem of her white robe sweeping along the floor as she walked, her sister’s bed took the weight of her light form. She brushed the blonde hair from the sleeping girl’s eyes. Oh, Gílana, I’m so sorry. How did I get us into that? I promise you: I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby.

  As she sat watching her, Gílana’s eyes opened, and for one long, blissful moment they merely stared at one another. ‘Anna.’ She smiled.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  Gílana glanced up groggily and nodded. ‘I’m okay.’

  Anna smiled. ‘Good.’

  ‘Gílana has a clean bill of health,’ said a kindly-looking man, standing with his arms folded in the open doorway. ‘Whatever happened to her back there has had no permanent impact on her or the baby, as far as we can tell. I’m Noah,’ he said, moving towards them. ‘A friend of Antal.’

  ‘Is he—’

  ‘He’s just fine. A little too fine if you ask me, but no one ever does, so . . .’ He stopped and grinned.

  ‘How’s Ferranti?’

  ‘Your captain’s doing well. He’s asleep, though it’s exhaustion for the most part keeping him down now.’

  ‘And Callista?’

  ‘Better than ever,’ he said. ‘Everyone is.’

  Not everyone, she thought.

  A quiet moment followed before Gílana asked the question Anna had been holding back. ‘Do we know the baby’s sex?’

  ‘Well, I do,’ Noah teased.

  The two sisters leaned forwards expectantly.

  ‘Err, well, Miss Berenguer, you’re going to have a little boy.’

  Anna squeezed her sister’s hand; they both looked at each other and beamed.

  ‘Anyhow,’ he said awkwardly, ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’ And he shuffled from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  Without hesitation Gílana threw herself forward, and Anna embraced her firmly. She held her for a few minutes in a calm and peaceful silence. They were safe. For the first time in so long she could relax knowing everything was going to be okay.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ her little sister wept. ‘Jon and I—’

  ‘So he is the father?’

  Gílana nodded, head down.

  ‘Say nothing mor
e of it,’ Anna said. ‘You and the baby are out of harm’s way, and we’re going home. That’s all that matters to me anymore.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gílana said. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  * * *

  Noah Nuveen walked across the Stellarstream’s open dock and made for the crimson ship. Sat upon the rear ramp was the craft’s crew; and Noah gave his captain a low nod. Justus smiled back. Anna and Gílana were fine. Good, Justus thought, before clearing his throat and gazing down at his friends.

  ‘Ahem, everyone hear me? Noah, you listening?’

  ‘Always,’ Noah answered, sitting down on a metal crate and grinning nervously as a towering Shree stretched her arms around him and placed her purple, fluffy hat on his head.

  ‘Good.’ He looked at each member of the group before him. Beside Noah and Shree, Dimal stood next to Raj, who had been explaining the theory of space travel to an excited Aíron Veryan. Sat upon another loading crate, she laughed and shook her head constantly in disbelief. ‘Before you start drinking,’ he said, ‘where you’ll no doubt forget this conversation anyway, I just want to start by saying what a complete and utter buffoon I am.’

  No one answered, though Dimal nodded tactlessly.

  ‘I should never have left you,’ he said. ‘And if it’s any kind of solace I’ve been through hell these past weeks. Every moment of it I wanted to be back with you. I pushed you away when all I wanted to do was pull you closer.’

  ‘I get it,’ Raj said. ‘Me and Shree forgive you.’

  ‘It’s just that easy?’ Dimal said, nudging Noah out of the way and sitting upon the box instead. ‘Nice suck-up routine. Practise it much?’

  ‘All night.’

  ‘Well I for one would be honoured to have you back,’ Noah said, fighting off purple feathers. ‘In the last week alone I’ve been shot, stunned, slapped, and thrown from a sixty-storey tower!’

  ‘You’d make a good captain,’ Dimal mumbled with a smirk, and the others laughed.

  Noah shrugged off the taunts. ‘Aside from your new haircut,’ he said, ‘which I think suits you more than the dirty old mop, while you were gone I was forced into more than my fair share of reckless exploits!’