Long Ago and Day 00008 Mission Nilex
The memory waited to take Ayla as she floated in the darkness, but she had control now. It could not own her anymore.
She had a choice. She could break free if she chose, but she hesitated. There was more to understand in the memory—she knew that with certainty. Her heart ached with all she had seen. But then, it was called a burden for a reason. She would not shy away from this.
«Canaisis? Are you there?»
«Yes, Ayla. I'm here.»
«There's more to know—I can feel it.»
«Only you can decide that, Ayla.»
Ayla sought her center as she had been taught, calming her fear. «I am ready, Canaisis.»
«I'll be here with you.»
The cold came first, cold hands and feet, then the sound of the never-ending wind. It was barely audible, but it was there outside.
Outside... the wind was outside. Outside of the mausoleum.
Captain Gareth Levant opened his eyes to darkness lit only by a single lamp. It lay where he'd dropped it by the broken far wall, casting long shadows. His wife's urn still stood beside it on the floor.
He forced himself to get up. "Canaisis?"
«Yes, Captain, I'm here.»
"How long was I asleep?"
«Twelve hours and thirty-six minutes.»
Reaching with his right hand, he keyed the wrist plate to check his suit status. Diagnostics scrolled past his eyes as the heads-up display fed him information on his visor. All systems were optimal, but what he focused on was the battery. It read <52%>. He turned his gaze to his sled. Knowing only one battery remained, he counted his odds as slim in making it back to the shuttle.
He turned on the helmet lights, strode across the mausoleum floor, and picked up the lantern. Toggling the off switch, he attached the lamp to his belt as he looked down at the urn. It shone in the light, white porcelain inlaid with blue scrollwork. He stooped down to grasp it with both hands and carried it back to set it down beside the sled.
Removing the tarp took some doing. Then the sorting began—what to keep and what to leave behind. The largest and most heavy item was the kilometers left of rope. No need for that anymore. Discarding the rope made room in the sled, and a short coiled length of rope would cradle the urn. After carefully packing around it, all seemed ready, and he could secure the tarp again.
He sat down against the wall next to the sled and picked up the nutrient pack he'd dropped on the floor. He slapped it into his chest plate socket and waited for his suit to acknowledge its presence. He would need his strength. While he sucked the bland syrup from the suit's straw, he couldn't help but check his belt pouch.
They were there, the precious seeds he'd recovered. At least he hadn't dreamed that. Content to rest for a while, he sealed the pouch tight, then ordered his suit to maintain its temperature.
When he felt ready to set out, he dragged the sled toward the mausoleum door and felt trepidation at the journey ahead. He'd made it this far, and that had been all he'd planned for. Now, new purpose filled him, embodied in seven acorns. He thought of a world covered in forest, a place where he could rest and look across a valley of trees. His wife would have liked that. He'd loved her, even after she'd left him.
It was a pleasant thought. But even one thought, laced with bitterness, was a miracle. First, though, he had to make this journey back to the shuttle. He couldn't afford dreams or hope, or any emotions, right now. Canaisis awaited him, and she didn't deserve what had happened to him. No one did. He would not be the one to teach her the pain he'd been taught.
Firming his resolve to do the right thing, he cracked open the door. The wind grabbed hold of it and pushed him back, blowing in a cloud of swirling ash. He stepped out into the onslaught, pulling the sled behind him.
"Alright, Canaisis. Lead me back by the shortest route."
«Aye, Captain. I'm here.»
The journey back was arduous as Gareth trudged through a landscape of howling, ash-laden wind and broken buildings. His hands and feet returned to the familiar cold numbness, for the ash had worn away much of his suit's outer insulative coating long ago. It was designed for maybe a twenty-hour shift in vacuum, not the days on end he had put it through here.
Occasionally he would come across traces of Humanity untouched by the destruction or the ash. A shoe, a child's toy, a piece of furniture. More often, it was a scorched shell of a vehicle, or the burnt, broken bones of the dead. But he was too numb to be fazed by such sights. Then he stepped into the windbreak a building provided. Here the ash had piled up in a great slanted hill against the wall. Stepping forward to kick some ash out to make a pocket to rest, he stopped cold. The hill of fluffy ash collapsed in a landslide to expose three skeletons hugging each other, two adults and a child.
For a long while, he stared at the remains. Refusing to allow himself to feel anything, he simply turned to leave, deciding to find another spot.
∞
It was Lina's turn to rest. She'd pulled off her Laaj and leaned her head back in the chair with her eyes closed. From the silence, she knew that Nura hadn't moved from holding Ayla's hand on the other side of the bed. They'd both remained with their sister since Ahmid left to check on the progress in the hangar, and to update the other members of Ayla's condition.
Trying to reach Ayla was taxing. She was still in deep, and no matter how much Lina had called to offer comfort and strength, Ayla wouldn't or couldn't answer back. Usually, this was a choice of the person in question, but not this time. Lina could tell Ayla was being hurt by whatever her Gift was revealing to her, but she hadn't accepted their help. That was why Lina and Nura decided to take turns rather than combine their efforts. Someone would be there at all times in case Ayla reached out.
With little to no knowledge in dealing with those Lost, she felt useless. Lina had never herself been able to be taken by the Gift, so she had no understanding of what Ayla was going through.
But maybe that was because she didn't want the Gift. Being able to feel the twisted emotions of the Citizens was enough for her. If she'd developed the Gift, they would have taken her. It was her duty to serve the People, but the lust, depravity, and amorality she'd experienced the first time a Citizen came for a visit had scared her terribly. It was for this reason the Nilex Corporation family had hidden Ayla with such effort.
Lina opened her eyes at the sound of Nura shifting a little in her chair, sensing something wrong. Nura was holding Ayla's hand up in both of hers, tight, in deep concentration. Then a wave of emotion rushed over Lina, so strong her heart cringed in fear. Instinctively she reached out to grip Ayla's other hand. The emotion grew stronger, almost more than Lina could bear. She made eye contact with Nura, who had tears running down her face.
"Take my hand." Lina reached across the bed. "She needs both our strength."
Nura accepted Lina's hand and together they focused, trying to give Ayla comfort and strength, trying to let her know she wasn't alone. Lina focused inside herself and then extended herself to Ayla. What hit her was nothing she'd ever dealt with before. If she'd been standing, she would have fallen to her knees, desiring it all to end. This was emotion beyond anything Lina knew how to deal with. Ayla would have handled this if a Nilex member were hurting this way.
What can I do? It's Ayla who needs help. Lina lacked the training and knowledge, but instinct told her to hold and comfort Ayla's being, so she extended herself deeper. What she found was only blackness, with nothing to guide her. Only her connection to Nura gave her a sense of direction.
The wave of despair, pain, and anger pouring out of Ayla grew so strong it threatened to break their circle. It crashed over them, wave after wave, but together they held on. Lina felt Nura weakening, and she gave her strength to her. It was becoming all they could do to endure the waves of emotion. They held on for what seemed like an eternity, trying to give back love and hope against the waves pouring out of Ayla.
Lina knew this was a good sign. It meant Ayla could reach out—she wasn't lost and locked away anymore. But the emotions coming from her were too much for Lina and Nura. Lina felt as if the undertow was pulling her feet out from under her. It dominated them, a pure force. Lina focused even harder, trying to reach Ayla, as it was Nura's turn to give strength to Lina's effort.
The anguish and pain mounted to an even higher wave, a tsunami, and Lina felt Nura begin to waver in her strength. Nura was too stubborn to let go until she broke—it made Lina fear for her as well. Lina was the most sensitive of the remaining Nilex family, but without the training, all she had to go by was her intuition.
She needs us, needs us now! Lina cast herself deeper into the wave, looking for the center, even at the risk of losing herself. Nura was her tether, and she dove deep, offering love and hope. But no matter how Lina tried, she could not come close. The blackness was all-engulfing, and her and Nura's strength was weakening. She should pull back, but Nura never lessened her resolve, so Lina plunged even deeper.
The strength between them was failing fast with the cascading waves of black emotions engulfing them. It invaded them, invading their minds and hearts—the madness of despair, the rage of injustice and defeat, the bitterness of hopelessness. Lina found herself fearing for her own life, feeling her self giving up as the wave filled her. She held on for dear life, her grip over her own sanity slipping until—
Sunshine... And granite.
Lina became aware of brilliant sunshine, the strength of rock, and steadfast loyalty surging against the dark wave. Driving it out of her.
The weight of Ahmid's hand pressed upon her shoulder, pouring his strength into them. His offering of compassion and hope and love for them and Ayla was a bastion of strength, a castle. It gave Lina the strength and light she needed to see through the darkness.
But Ayla was not there. Knowing she was risking her own life, and knowing Ayla would do the same for her... Lina pulled strength from Ahmid and dove deeper than she'd ever been before.
It seemed a futile effort in the pervasive darkness. Then she saw what she sought. Deep down, the pale, weak light that was Ayla's soul. Lina plunged until she came before the core that was Ayla and wrapped herself around it. She poured all her strength into the center. All the love of the Nilex family that came flowing from Ahmid and through her flowed into Ayla.
At first it wasn't enough. Lina felt her self shredding at the edges. But she took Nura's resolve and made it her own. Lina stood before the insanity cascading out of Ayla and offered back the only thing she had. Her love.
Slowly, the intensity of the wave ebbed as Lina hung on. Nura's resolve to reach Ayla bolstered Lina, and Ahmid's compassion gave her strength to endure the radiating despair. She fought the bitterness and rage with her own love for Ayla, trying to communicate to Ayla that she was not alone.
The wave receded, and Lina wrapped herself tighter around the center, hugging it close. Suddenly, Nura's presence was there as well, a sense of duty and loyalty to family—she too wrapped herself around the center. Ahmid came next, wrapping himself around all of them, the solidness of granite. The wave of emotion inside Ayla's center shrank within, and the three of them offered to share her burden. Ayla's soul didn't answer.
They remained as long as they could, giving Ayla their presence. For an eternity, they held Ayla's essence in a blanket of family love, and it seemed enough. Lina felt Ayla's sanity returning. It came as an eye of calmness within a whirlpool of emotion, but it was growing, consuming the swirling ocean.
It was time. As reality drew them back to the world, Lina promised to always be there for Ayla if needed. She opened her eyes to look up at Nura. Tears streamed down both their faces. Lina gave her a weak smile and squeezed her hand before breaking the connection. Lina felt completely drained, mentally and physically exhausted, but she forced herself to look over her shoulder at Ahmid. His eyes were glistening with wetness.
"We reached her," she said to him.
"Yes, we did. But we almost lost you, Lina! What were you thinking? And you, Nura," Ahmid looked across the bed at Nura, "you know better. You've had more training than Lina." He looked angry and scared at the same time, but the accusation in his eyes stung Lina for Nura's sake.
Nura wiped the streaks from her cheeks and faced him. "We had no choice, not if we were going to get to Ayla. She went into crisis, couldn't you feel that?"
Ahmid's face whitened. "I was in the hangar. I felt the distress, but nothing more. You know I'm not that sensitive. I'm sorry, I know I should trust your judgement. But all I saw when I got here was that I was going to lose you both. For anyone else, I would have yanked you both out."
"We didn't have time, Ahmid. It was sudden, unexpected, and Lina and I reacted at our chance to help her."
The three of them turned their eyes to Ayla, and Lina was surprised to see tears flowing down the sides of her sleeping face.
"Look," Lina whispered.
Ahmid, who still held her shoulder, gave it a squeeze. "This is a good sign." He sighed. "Never go in that deeply again, Lina. You're not ready, and we could have lost you both."
Nura picked up Ayla's hand again. "I can feel her!" she exclaimed after a moment. "She can feel me. She knows I'm here."
Relieved, Lina broke into a smile, glancing at Ahmid. He was smiling too. She looked back at Ayla, but she didn't reach out to touch her. She didn't have the strength to attempt to feel it for herself. Instead she asked out loud, "What did you see, Ayla?"
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