Genesis - Two
(Follows on from Genesis - One)
Time had become a memory, like so many other things, because Rian could no longer remember what it was to experience time passing normally. It was all gone—doing mundane things like sleeping for seven or eight hours straight. Waking up to have breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Working between certain hours. Having any kind of routine.
For all he knew, he’d been in this place for a week or a month or a whole damn year. He didn’t have a frecking clue. His existence had become like sands shifting on a desert wind. He had no control. He had no substance. He was just this thing that existed for a purpose he didn’t understand.
There was nothing of himself left that he recognized. They hadn’t broken him. No, that would have meant a fight and these creatures, they didn’t fight. Instead they’d simply hollowed him out bit by bit, and once he’d realized they were invading him body and mind, he’d already been lost. There’d been nothing to grasp onto to pull himself free.
Ever since that first day he and the rest of the crew had been taken off the IPC battleship Lone Glider, he’d become their favorite toy and most hated subject. The fact that their technology didn’t seem to work on him like it did all the others—turning him into a mindless, docile, agreeable lab rat—had fascinated and frustrated them in equal measure. The Reidar. He’d found out at some stage what the alien race was called, though he had no clear memory of how he’d come by that information.
They’d moderated, adjusted, and intensified the “treatments” for him. Occasionally one would stick, and he’d be forced into the depths of himself like a waking sleep. Aware of all that was going on but unaffected, emotionless, detached, unnervingly calm. None of them lasted, and eventually he’d come back, always to the same conflict of rage, relief, and guilt.
Part of him wanted to stay in that detached, impassive shell like all the others until the Reidar were either done with him or killed him as they had so many of his crewmates. But that was like giving up, and the remorse of wishing for the easy way out burned into what was left of his soul. Another part of him was infuriated that bit by bit, the aliens seemed to be winning this contest of wills, and next time they tried their “treatments” on him might be the day he didn’t come back. And lastly, there was always that small, too-brief and soon-forgotten flare of relief that they hadn’t managed to erase him, and maybe the escape and revenge he’d vowed to get could still be his.
Except the fact he could still have the tiny, unsmotherable spark of hope simply told him how stupid he really was.
No one escaped. There was no way out of here.
Sure, day by day, the crew of the Lone Glider got taken out to the labs, and sometimes they didn’t come back. Their number gradually whittled down until one day he’d woken up and found himself all alone in that big, gleaming, sterile room. The sixty people who’d been lined up in perfect rows, with their minds wiped so that they did nothing but sit around calmly waiting for the aliens to experiment on them were long gone.
After that, he hadn’t cared any more. What was the point? There was no one left to rescue, and he was no longer worth rescuing, just an empty figurine that would always be in this place, even when his body was no longer here.
With the determination of a wounded animal, he’d tried to escape his invisible energy cage the day he’d realized he was the last one left, and discovered if he got zapped by the barrier enough times, it put him lights out. That was the only thing he had control over, so he used it like an addict, downing himself into that blissful black nothingness of unconsciousness over and over.
Except the Reidar worked out his game and took that away from him as well. They moved him to the lab, and restrained him, spread on the table, laid bare for who-knew what kind of medical depravities they planned for him this time.
Something about this session was different, because they set him up and then left him alone. He’d never been in the lab for this long before. Was this simply going to be his permanent placement now that they no longer had anyone else to play with? The thought should have horrified him, but his emotions had long ago shut down. It was just a different brand of terror in a long exposure of terrors.
The door to the lab opened, but he didn’t bother looking over. Footsteps echoed softly, then there was a figure in his peripheral. It was the Reidar he’d started calling Hal early on in his captivity when there’d still been something of himself left, and he’d been foolish enough to burn with the determination to escape. Hal, Frankie, Rhonda, and Dick. Not the old-fashioned nickname for Richard. Just Dick, because he’d been one.
“Look alive, Rian,” Hal said as he came over. Bastard always had been chatty. Most of the Reidar never talked directly to him or his crewmates, treating them like literal lab animals who were too dumb to understand, which he supposed his brainwashed buddies had been. But not Hal. No, Hal liked to run all kinds of commentary and engage in completely one-sided conversations. He’d made the mistake of talking back one day. His response had been something along the lines of “go eat shite, asshole.” But he’d never made that mistake again. What had followed hadn’t been worth the words, and he still shuddered at the thought of what they’d done to him. He’d had a lot of bad days in this place, but that one was right up there.
“We found the key, Rian. Cracked the code inside you. Worked out why you’re so different. Why you’re special. I’ll tell you, it was a surprise. Who would have thought something so amazing was hiding in a random soldier like you? And now that we’ve worked it out, we’ve got big plans for you. Perfect. That’s what you’re going to be. Utterly obedient. Deadly perfection.”
For a split second, something of himself actually roused, a shout from the back of his mind wanting to know what the freck Hal was talking about. Wanting to know exactly what they were going to do with him, terrified his day had finally come and they were going to turn the lights out inside his mind for good.
He turned his head to look directly at Hal.
“There’s that fighting spirit. I knew you were still with us.” Hal leaned in closer, blood red irises all but gleaming with excitement. “Don’t worry, Rian, you won’t end up like the rest. In fact, after today, you’ll get to leave this lab.”
His heart rate spiked a single beat, Hal’s words waking him in a way he hadn’t felt for he-didn’t-know-how-long, telling him this might finally be his chance to escape. But it didn’t last, as they used the same pulse of energy they always did when they needed to knock him out.
Gone. Into the blackness. But this time it wasn’t a relief.
***
Two Years and Eight Months Later
Tearing. It was all he could feel. Inside his mind, inside his body, deep within his soul. The darkness had chained him, but he’d broken free. Except the shadows were trapped inside him now, growling and snapping like a rabid animal trying to claw its way back to control him.
His whole body hurt, stomach clenching, sweat dampening his skin and his clothes, leaving him chilled and shivering.
The darkness was broken up by flashes—pictures, jumbled moments of violence, bloodshed, death. Always efficient. Always detached. Always perfectly unerring. Fast and deadly. Completely detached and emotionless as though he had no soul. He had become that. All those flashes—things that sickened him—he had done them. The Reidar had used his mind and body as the perfect weapon. Used him to kill countless people.
The pictures of flashing brutality wouldn’t stop until he realized he had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and forced them open.
For a long second, the light blinded him. He shielded his face with his hand, but wouldn’t close his eyes again, not if the jumbled memories that felt like they belonged to someone else came back.
When his gaze finally focused, he found himself sitting on the floor in the cubicle of a men’s room. The smooth surface beneath him was cool, and he flattened his palms, forcing his ragged breathing to even out.
After a few moments, he pushed unsteadily to his feet, legs like jelly, leaving his gait awkward and unsure, like someone who’d learned how to walk all of five minutes ago. He stumbled to a basin, relieved no one else was around as he splashed water on his face.
When he looked up into the mirror, he was shocked at the reflection staring back at him. He didn’t look like himself any longer. The person staring back at him had filled out, was more muscled, had short cropped hair and dark, deadly shadows in his eyes. He even looked… older? No, that couldn’t be right. It’d only been a few weeks, maybe a few months since those damned aliens, the Reidar, had taken him off the Lone Glider.
Just what the hell had those bastards done to him?
Thinking about them made his stomach lurch, made the shadowed darkness in his mind claw at him again. And somehow he knew they’d figured out he’d come back to himself, and they were coming for him, trying to work out where he was so they could bring him back in, almost like there was a link in his mind tethering him to the bastards.
No.
Like slicing through a rip cord, he cut off all thoughts of them. It was almost like severing his mind in two. There was the half that contained everything the Reidar had done to him, everything they’d made him do, that weird feeling that he was connect to them. He hacked it away and pushed it down, leaving only the now.
Now he had to run, because they would send others like him—others they’d brainwashed to act as their assassins and dogs who retrieved or attacked on command—they would be coming for him. They would do everything in their power to take him back again.
He would never let that happen.
No matter if he had to spend the rest of his life running, hopping from ship, to station, to planet every few weeks or days, he would do it if it meant staying out of their psychotic clutches.
And while he was moving, he would find a way to get revenge for every nano-second of suffering he’d endured. For every one of his crewmates who had died horrible, senseless deaths.
Vengeance feeding his soul, feeling strong, he left the men’s room, coming out in a corridor that had to belong to a station. Checking a few nearby signs, he made his way to the main terminal, where shuttle flights were coming and going.
One of the many flashing information holos showed information about Dionte station. Though he didn’t think he’d ever been here before, somehow he knew that Dionte station was located in one of the inner central systems, a stopping point for travellers and traders between two of the biggest planets in this quadrant.
He had to lose himself before the Reidar and whoever they sent started tracking him.
But where to go?
The obvious answer was to hop several shuttles and ships until he reached the far-flung outer planets currently locked in a war with the Inter-Planetary Coalition, who’d decided to bring all the independent planets under a single government. But getting across the unofficial battle lines wouldn’t be easy. Plus, many of the outer planets were more sparsely populated, and people tended to remember things like strangers.
So maybe he went in. All the way in, to the IPC’s capital planet of Yarina, which was completely encircled by a giant spacestation called the Rim. The Rim was a good place to get lost. Millions of people came and went from there every day. He could lay low until he worked out what the hell he was going to do with himself.
Destination in mind, he went over to one of the crystal display check-in screens. He’d almost reached out and touched the display when he realized he couldn’t purchase a ticket under his own name, couldn’t use his accounts, because the Reidar would find him.
He patted down his pockets and found a comm. A tap of the screen revealed all the usual apps, so he tapped on the currency icon, not sure what he was going to find.
Black credits. A lot of black credits. Untraceable black credits he knew in his soul had bought him all kind of things back and forth across the galaxy as he did the Reidar’s biding without a single thought or emotion of his own.
He allowed himself a grim smile as he purchased a ticket on the next shuttle flying direct to Yarina, first class. Bet the frecking Reidar had never considered he’d eventually use those untraceable black credits to get away from them.
As he transferred the ticket details onto his comm, the date flashed up, making his heart go into freefall.
No. He had to be seeing things. Had to be wrong.
He tapped the calendar to bring the day up and almost went crashing to his knees as a wave of disbelief weakened his entire body. He stumbled to a nearby bench, air sucked from his lungs and leaving him suffocated.
Three years.
It’d been three year since he’d stepped foot on the Lone Glider. Since he’d served an entire week on the battleship before the Reidar had taken them all. Three years of his life that felt like a few blurry weeks.
No wonder he looked older in his reflection; he was twenty-one. Technically had missed four birthdays, since the aliens had snatched him a few days short of celebrating his eighteenth.
His life was really gone. His sister, Zahli, his parents, his best friends, and brothers-in-arms, Zander and Cole, they must all think he was dead. What had happened to them in that time?
His grip tightened on the comm, wanting to call one of them. Anyone. To tell them he was okay, that he was still here.
But that was the stitch, wasn’t it? He wasn’t okay. He never would be again. They’d want to know what had happened to him, and he couldn’t tell them--
He clenched his jaw as his stomach lurched. He could barely let the thought of what the Reidar had done to him cross his mind, let alone put it into words. Besides, who would believe him? He had no evidence, had no proof the aliens existed and were turning people into droids to carry out their psychotic plans.
An announcement sounded, calling for his shuttle to board. Even though his stomach was still roiling, he pushed to his feet and made his way over to the designated gate. He got the feeling that the sick sensation wasn’t ever really going to go away.
As for his friends and family, it’d be easier—and maybe kinder—to let them think he was gone.
Besides, the Reidar were coming for him. He could feel it in the depths of his being. And anyone who got near him would be collateral. The aliens would go full scorched-earth to take him back. The only way he could protect the people he loved from that annihilation was if Rian Sherron was dead.
Because that was all he felt inside.
My darkness will consume you, for I am death.
Time had become a memory, like so many other things, because Rian could no longer remember what it was to experience time passing normally. It was all gone—doing mundane things like sleeping for seven or eight hours straight. Waking up to have breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Working between certain hours. Having any kind of routine.
For all he knew, he’d been in this place for a week or a month or a whole damn year. He didn’t have a frecking clue. His existence had become like sands shifting on a desert wind. He had no control. He had no substance. He was just this thing that existed for a purpose he didn’t understand.
There was nothing of himself left that he recognized. They hadn’t broken him. No, that would have meant a fight and these creatures, they didn’t fight. Instead they’d simply hollowed him out bit by bit, and once he’d realized they were invading him body and mind, he’d already been lost. There’d been nothing to grasp onto to pull himself free.
Ever since that first day he and the rest of the crew had been taken off the IPC battleship Lone Glider, he’d become their favorite toy and most hated subject. The fact that their technology didn’t seem to work on him like it did all the others—turning him into a mindless, docile, agreeable lab rat—had fascinated and frustrated them in equal measure. The Reidar. He’d found out at some stage what the alien race was called, though he had no clear memory of how he’d come by that information.
They’d moderated, adjusted, and intensified the “treatments” for him. Occasionally one would stick, and he’d be forced into the depths of himself like a waking sleep. Aware of all that was going on but unaffected, emotionless, detached, unnervingly calm. None of them lasted, and eventually he’d come back, always to the same conflict of rage, relief, and guilt.
Part of him wanted to stay in that detached, impassive shell like all the others until the Reidar were either done with him or killed him as they had so many of his crewmates. But that was like giving up, and the remorse of wishing for the easy way out burned into what was left of his soul. Another part of him was infuriated that bit by bit, the aliens seemed to be winning this contest of wills, and next time they tried their “treatments” on him might be the day he didn’t come back. And lastly, there was always that small, too-brief and soon-forgotten flare of relief that they hadn’t managed to erase him, and maybe the escape and revenge he’d vowed to get could still be his.
Except the fact he could still have the tiny, unsmotherable spark of hope simply told him how stupid he really was.
No one escaped. There was no way out of here.
Sure, day by day, the crew of the Lone Glider got taken out to the labs, and sometimes they didn’t come back. Their number gradually whittled down until one day he’d woken up and found himself all alone in that big, gleaming, sterile room. The sixty people who’d been lined up in perfect rows, with their minds wiped so that they did nothing but sit around calmly waiting for the aliens to experiment on them were long gone.
After that, he hadn’t cared any more. What was the point? There was no one left to rescue, and he was no longer worth rescuing, just an empty figurine that would always be in this place, even when his body was no longer here.
With the determination of a wounded animal, he’d tried to escape his invisible energy cage the day he’d realized he was the last one left, and discovered if he got zapped by the barrier enough times, it put him lights out. That was the only thing he had control over, so he used it like an addict, downing himself into that blissful black nothingness of unconsciousness over and over.
Except the Reidar worked out his game and took that away from him as well. They moved him to the lab, and restrained him, spread on the table, laid bare for who-knew what kind of medical depravities they planned for him this time.
Something about this session was different, because they set him up and then left him alone. He’d never been in the lab for this long before. Was this simply going to be his permanent placement now that they no longer had anyone else to play with? The thought should have horrified him, but his emotions had long ago shut down. It was just a different brand of terror in a long exposure of terrors.
The door to the lab opened, but he didn’t bother looking over. Footsteps echoed softly, then there was a figure in his peripheral. It was the Reidar he’d started calling Hal early on in his captivity when there’d still been something of himself left, and he’d been foolish enough to burn with the determination to escape. Hal, Frankie, Rhonda, and Dick. Not the old-fashioned nickname for Richard. Just Dick, because he’d been one.
“Look alive, Rian,” Hal said as he came over. Bastard always had been chatty. Most of the Reidar never talked directly to him or his crewmates, treating them like literal lab animals who were too dumb to understand, which he supposed his brainwashed buddies had been. But not Hal. No, Hal liked to run all kinds of commentary and engage in completely one-sided conversations. He’d made the mistake of talking back one day. His response had been something along the lines of “go eat shite, asshole.” But he’d never made that mistake again. What had followed hadn’t been worth the words, and he still shuddered at the thought of what they’d done to him. He’d had a lot of bad days in this place, but that one was right up there.
“We found the key, Rian. Cracked the code inside you. Worked out why you’re so different. Why you’re special. I’ll tell you, it was a surprise. Who would have thought something so amazing was hiding in a random soldier like you? And now that we’ve worked it out, we’ve got big plans for you. Perfect. That’s what you’re going to be. Utterly obedient. Deadly perfection.”
For a split second, something of himself actually roused, a shout from the back of his mind wanting to know what the freck Hal was talking about. Wanting to know exactly what they were going to do with him, terrified his day had finally come and they were going to turn the lights out inside his mind for good.
He turned his head to look directly at Hal.
“There’s that fighting spirit. I knew you were still with us.” Hal leaned in closer, blood red irises all but gleaming with excitement. “Don’t worry, Rian, you won’t end up like the rest. In fact, after today, you’ll get to leave this lab.”
His heart rate spiked a single beat, Hal’s words waking him in a way he hadn’t felt for he-didn’t-know-how-long, telling him this might finally be his chance to escape. But it didn’t last, as they used the same pulse of energy they always did when they needed to knock him out.
Gone. Into the blackness. But this time it wasn’t a relief.
***
Two Years and Eight Months Later
Tearing. It was all he could feel. Inside his mind, inside his body, deep within his soul. The darkness had chained him, but he’d broken free. Except the shadows were trapped inside him now, growling and snapping like a rabid animal trying to claw its way back to control him.
His whole body hurt, stomach clenching, sweat dampening his skin and his clothes, leaving him chilled and shivering.
The darkness was broken up by flashes—pictures, jumbled moments of violence, bloodshed, death. Always efficient. Always detached. Always perfectly unerring. Fast and deadly. Completely detached and emotionless as though he had no soul. He had become that. All those flashes—things that sickened him—he had done them. The Reidar had used his mind and body as the perfect weapon. Used him to kill countless people.
The pictures of flashing brutality wouldn’t stop until he realized he had his eyes squeezed tightly shut and forced them open.
For a long second, the light blinded him. He shielded his face with his hand, but wouldn’t close his eyes again, not if the jumbled memories that felt like they belonged to someone else came back.
When his gaze finally focused, he found himself sitting on the floor in the cubicle of a men’s room. The smooth surface beneath him was cool, and he flattened his palms, forcing his ragged breathing to even out.
After a few moments, he pushed unsteadily to his feet, legs like jelly, leaving his gait awkward and unsure, like someone who’d learned how to walk all of five minutes ago. He stumbled to a basin, relieved no one else was around as he splashed water on his face.
When he looked up into the mirror, he was shocked at the reflection staring back at him. He didn’t look like himself any longer. The person staring back at him had filled out, was more muscled, had short cropped hair and dark, deadly shadows in his eyes. He even looked… older? No, that couldn’t be right. It’d only been a few weeks, maybe a few months since those damned aliens, the Reidar, had taken him off the Lone Glider.
Just what the hell had those bastards done to him?
Thinking about them made his stomach lurch, made the shadowed darkness in his mind claw at him again. And somehow he knew they’d figured out he’d come back to himself, and they were coming for him, trying to work out where he was so they could bring him back in, almost like there was a link in his mind tethering him to the bastards.
No.
Like slicing through a rip cord, he cut off all thoughts of them. It was almost like severing his mind in two. There was the half that contained everything the Reidar had done to him, everything they’d made him do, that weird feeling that he was connect to them. He hacked it away and pushed it down, leaving only the now.
Now he had to run, because they would send others like him—others they’d brainwashed to act as their assassins and dogs who retrieved or attacked on command—they would be coming for him. They would do everything in their power to take him back again.
He would never let that happen.
No matter if he had to spend the rest of his life running, hopping from ship, to station, to planet every few weeks or days, he would do it if it meant staying out of their psychotic clutches.
And while he was moving, he would find a way to get revenge for every nano-second of suffering he’d endured. For every one of his crewmates who had died horrible, senseless deaths.
Vengeance feeding his soul, feeling strong, he left the men’s room, coming out in a corridor that had to belong to a station. Checking a few nearby signs, he made his way to the main terminal, where shuttle flights were coming and going.
One of the many flashing information holos showed information about Dionte station. Though he didn’t think he’d ever been here before, somehow he knew that Dionte station was located in one of the inner central systems, a stopping point for travellers and traders between two of the biggest planets in this quadrant.
He had to lose himself before the Reidar and whoever they sent started tracking him.
But where to go?
The obvious answer was to hop several shuttles and ships until he reached the far-flung outer planets currently locked in a war with the Inter-Planetary Coalition, who’d decided to bring all the independent planets under a single government. But getting across the unofficial battle lines wouldn’t be easy. Plus, many of the outer planets were more sparsely populated, and people tended to remember things like strangers.
So maybe he went in. All the way in, to the IPC’s capital planet of Yarina, which was completely encircled by a giant spacestation called the Rim. The Rim was a good place to get lost. Millions of people came and went from there every day. He could lay low until he worked out what the hell he was going to do with himself.
Destination in mind, he went over to one of the crystal display check-in screens. He’d almost reached out and touched the display when he realized he couldn’t purchase a ticket under his own name, couldn’t use his accounts, because the Reidar would find him.
He patted down his pockets and found a comm. A tap of the screen revealed all the usual apps, so he tapped on the currency icon, not sure what he was going to find.
Black credits. A lot of black credits. Untraceable black credits he knew in his soul had bought him all kind of things back and forth across the galaxy as he did the Reidar’s biding without a single thought or emotion of his own.
He allowed himself a grim smile as he purchased a ticket on the next shuttle flying direct to Yarina, first class. Bet the frecking Reidar had never considered he’d eventually use those untraceable black credits to get away from them.
As he transferred the ticket details onto his comm, the date flashed up, making his heart go into freefall.
No. He had to be seeing things. Had to be wrong.
He tapped the calendar to bring the day up and almost went crashing to his knees as a wave of disbelief weakened his entire body. He stumbled to a nearby bench, air sucked from his lungs and leaving him suffocated.
Three years.
It’d been three year since he’d stepped foot on the Lone Glider. Since he’d served an entire week on the battleship before the Reidar had taken them all. Three years of his life that felt like a few blurry weeks.
No wonder he looked older in his reflection; he was twenty-one. Technically had missed four birthdays, since the aliens had snatched him a few days short of celebrating his eighteenth.
His life was really gone. His sister, Zahli, his parents, his best friends, and brothers-in-arms, Zander and Cole, they must all think he was dead. What had happened to them in that time?
His grip tightened on the comm, wanting to call one of them. Anyone. To tell them he was okay, that he was still here.
But that was the stitch, wasn’t it? He wasn’t okay. He never would be again. They’d want to know what had happened to him, and he couldn’t tell them--
He clenched his jaw as his stomach lurched. He could barely let the thought of what the Reidar had done to him cross his mind, let alone put it into words. Besides, who would believe him? He had no evidence, had no proof the aliens existed and were turning people into droids to carry out their psychotic plans.
An announcement sounded, calling for his shuttle to board. Even though his stomach was still roiling, he pushed to his feet and made his way over to the designated gate. He got the feeling that the sick sensation wasn’t ever really going to go away.
As for his friends and family, it’d be easier—and maybe kinder—to let them think he was gone.
Besides, the Reidar were coming for him. He could feel it in the depths of his being. And anyone who got near him would be collateral. The aliens would go full scorched-earth to take him back. The only way he could protect the people he loved from that annihilation was if Rian Sherron was dead.
Because that was all he felt inside.
My darkness will consume you, for I am death.