You refuse to panic. Panic is for those who have exhausted all possible solutions. You are still in the middle of discovering all possible solutions; therefore, you have no right to panic. You reach out with your sensing abilities once more, confirming that you are, in fact, still in the dead of space. The inability to breathe, however, is what is truly driving you mad. You want so badly to breathe, to hear your heart beat, or simply to open your eyes. Attempts to enhance your glow state are still useless.
You have just returned from a memory you know to be the last time Shilo saw your parents. You know the designation number on the side of the shuttle in which they just flew away all too well. Shuttle 86492VI87S2M932O was the shuttle in which your parents suffered an all but fatal crash. The very thought that, even with the aide of Shilo’s memories, you will never see your parents in a new setting again causes you unfathomable distress. The fact that you’ve now reached a point where you’re sorting through memories of a person older than you is troubling in itself, as well.
You begin to work your way into a new memory, but something stops you. You haven’t been prevented by any outside force from entering the memory, but you are immensely troubled by something you cannot quite grasp. Then, it occurs to you. You return to the previous memory.
Zhilo’di Khuda’Cronell, Age 6, Qzcivden West Interplanetary, Qzcivden, Thor
“Alright, Shilo, do you have everything you need?” Shilo’s mother moves her hands through Shilo’s satchel, ensuring that Shilo does not encounter a lack of necessary supplies. Her long and nearly entirely blue hair, a rarity even among her peers, hangs softly on either side of her gentle face in tightly curled, glossy locks, her lips pursed as she sorts through Shilo’s belongings. After a few moments, she stops and starts fumbling through her own belongings. “You’ve forgotten your picture album at home, Shilo. Here,” she hands Shilo a picture of the two of them when Shilo had just been a baby, “this one is my favorite.”
Shilo takes the picture and slides it into her book so she won’t forget her spot as she closes it to hug her mother. “Thanks, mommy.” Her small arms wrap around her mother’s legs tightly before she’s picked up and held in a reciprocated hug, her mother’s eyes leaking a few tears.
“Now, remember, sweety,” Shilo’s mother begins again, “you’re going to be in stasis for the entire trip to Osgord. If you wake up, there’s a technician that checks in on you every three centidays. Just be patient and start counting in your head. Don’t worry, though,” she adds as a slightly panicked look crosses Shilo’s face, “you’re probably not going to wake up. That’s very rare.” Shilo’s face relaxes considerably, but not all distress has been cast off of her face. Shilo’s mother pushes the young girl’s long hair behind her ear, and a tear comes forth. “Oh, this is probably going to be the last time I see you with long hair, isn’t it? My little Shilo is going to be a pilot. I just know it.”
Shilo hugs her mother more tightly and asks, “Do I have to go now? Why can’t I wait for my schooling to start here, with you?” Her eyes say all that isn’t spoken: And why aren’t you coming with me?
At last, her father speaks up, ruffling her hair. “Come on, then, Zhilo’di. You know Blue girls have to wait for their admission on Osgord. That’s where legends say the Matriarch lives. I don’t think anyone’s even met the woman in a few hundred cycles. Some stories say she just lies awake in stasis and somehow sends the signal either accepting or denying admission from inside her pod.” His face drifts off into the morbid thought for a while. How lonely and maddening such an existence must be. “Of course, other legends say she’s one of the Valkyri’din and just spends most of her time invisible. And if you were an immortal among the ranks of the Valkyri’din themselves, would you let yourself be carted off to other planets just to watch over the newest students of the Blue and see if they’re worthy?” His smile returns in full force at the silliness of the remark. “Besides, I’ve heard that if she’s really pleased with a candidate, she’ll even come down from wherever she lives and introduce herself.”
Shilo grins widely, her eyes on fire a bit with excitement. Every Blue girl’s dream is to meet the Matriarch, after all. Even her mother can be heard on occasion musing how wonderful it would be. Obviously, Shilo imagines herself being one of those rare girls who meet the Matriarch. “Do you think I can do it, Daddy?” Shilo steps lightly onto the floor as her mother sets her down.
“Do I think you can do it?!” Shilo’s father exclaims as if the very idea that he would think otherwise were absolute foolishness. “Of course you can do it, Zhilo’Biornn.” He stoops low to hug her. Shilo steps into her father’s arms and receives his warm embrace, her eyes closing as they both take a moment to enjoy some of their last time together before she leaves. Shilo has always been a fan of biornns, and in addition to getting her an entire room full of stuffed varieties of th
e animal, her father long ago took to addressing her by the pet name of which she’s now so fond. “You can do absolutely anything you want. You’re a very talented young lady.”
Shilo opens her eyes as her father releases her at the sound of a low chime and looks to his wife. It’s time for their shuttle to leave. Unfortunately, Shilo’s flight doesn’t board for another few millidays because it’s running late, but the shuttles have been running early all day. They have to leave before she can take off. “You’re going to do great, Shilo,” Shilo’s mother says, giving her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead before making her way to the shuttle. Shilo looks at the shuttle preparing to take her parents home, leaving her here before she flies off to another planet by herself for the first time.
“We love you, Zhilo’Biornn. We’ll be praying for you. I promise we will, every day until we see you again. Drigan’di will be so sick of our prayers that she’ll answer them just to get us to shut up.” At this comment by her father, Shilo laughs, her white teeth showing as she grins widely, wiping away the tears that have worked their way forward, a few of the green hairs she received from her father working their way through the blue and across her face. He smiles back, his left hand running through his green hair as he puts his right around Shilo’s mother, the two of them stepping back into the shuttle. They wave as the door closes, the designator ‘86492VI87S2M932O’ easily visible in white against the fading red hull of the shuttle.
The bell indicating that Shilo’s ship is boarding sounds, and Shilo continues to wave as she turns away, listening to the hum of the shuttle’s drives starting back up. She turns back and sees, across the terminal, the shuttle start to take off as she makes her way into the entryway of the ship that’s to take her to Osgord. An attendant helps her along, pressing her hand lightly against Shilo’s shoulder, just as the unthinkable happens.
As the shuttle begins to take off, one of its drives explodes, sending shockwaves through the terminal and across the entire dock as bodies fly like rag dolls through the air and across the room. Shilo watches, almost as if in slow motion, as the shuttle spins and rolls out of control away from the terminal in reaction to the explosion, one entire side of the shuttle simply gone, replaced by a horrifying scene of bloody carnage. Then, the shuttle slams into another shuttle trying to fly out of its way, folding tightly upon itself as the two shuttles are driven down into the water surrounding the docks. Just as it seems nothing could get worse, another drive can be seen exploding in the water.
“No!” Shilo screams, but her own is muffled by the roar of thousands of others screaming with her. Robot crews can be seen running toward the scene just as others run away, the scene of the terminal turning quickly from a terrifying moment of shock to a fully terrified cacophony of panic, wreckage, and bodies. The attendant beside Shilo puts her hand up to her ear to better hear an order from the ship’s pilot and quickly drops it, moving instead to push Shilo into the ship.
Shilo hears the roar of interplanetary drives fully warmed up as she’s pushed through the entryway and into the main compartment of the ship. She barely has time to take in the strange appearance of the ship, which seems to be filled with much more women and girls with blue hair than she expected, before the attendant presses her into a stasis pod with a slight glow in her eyes, her brown wig falling to one side to reveal tightly wrapped blue and red hair beneath it.
As the stasis begins to set in on her, Shilo takes one last look around, seeing all the other confused faces in freshly sealed stasis pods beside peaceful ones in pods already fully active. Shilo closes her eyes and holds her book tightly against her chest, fully aware of the only possible outcome of two such massive explosions on her parents. They can’t be alive, but she still is. She begins to whisper a prayer to Drigan’di as the stasis finally catches up with her. The prayer won’t be finished until she awakens on Osgord in a quarter of a cycle.
Your mind reels as you return from the memory for the second time. There is so much to learn from that memory that you had never thought about before now. You once asked your daddy why he said that vague, almost subjectless prayer every day. He couldn’t remember. Now, thinking on it all, you’re surprised he remember to say it at all.
You think back to the scene of the ship. There were so many Blue girls there, and yet there are so few Valkyries. You wonder for a moment how selective this Matriarch must be that most of those girls never became Valkyries. Then, you think back to the destination Shilo had you program into the Valkyr navigation systems before entering stasis. You didn’t program Thor as your destination. Right now, as you silently float your rock through space, you are heading to the planet Osgord. You wonder for once what awaits you there.
Hungry for knowledge and still hoping to get out of this wakeful stasis which your mother once assured Shilo was very rare, you make your way into Shilo’s next memory. It’s time you start your training, after all…
Prophecy of the Dragon
Prophecy of the Dragon
Stars shall fall.
Worlds shall burn.
Councils dissolve,
A Monarchy’s spurn.
Two races remain,
At peace and at war,
Two fates divide them,
Their sorrows outpoured.
Soldiers shall live,
Light People be lost,
And evil shall find them,
Unspeakable cost.
Seeds shall scatter,
Their legacies great,
And outward shall carry
In vaults numbered eight.
A home once lost
Will be again found.
A world once great
Will bear a glass ground.
The Angels shall hide.
The Ghosts shall haunt.
The Crown shall destroy
With no détente.
The Red Dragon’s birth
To Blue warrior’s womb
Shall take that Crown,
The Void its tomb.
A king born to flames,
The Dragon shall fly.
For the Blue Water Planet,
His tears will she dry.
Innocent children
Shall fall to the blast.
A traitor amidst
To darkness be cast.
But in this a light
Can yet be found
For to the Red Dragon,
A sight beyond sound.
To Red Dragon King,
The righteous dictator,
Shall be born Gold Phoenix,
Her white light the greater.
The Red Dragon’s bride
Shall find the great Eight,
And all the old worlds
Shall cast out their hate.
Gold Phoenix, she rises,
Sword of ages in hand.
The Light People follow,
Their worlds again grand.
Red Dragon, his bride,
And Gold Phoenix breathe,
Their breath light the stars
As worlds lost unsheathe.
Red Dragon shall sleep
Beside his Blue bride,
And Gold Phoenix risen
His eternal pride.
And Ancients shall find them,
Their company great,
And in Risen Phoenix
Form eternal State.
Memories: The Story of Feliar’Gadi
The ringing pain of absolute stillness rocks your mind as you make your way out of another of Shilo’s memories. You take a few brief moments, or perhaps they were several hours, to contemplate your predicament once more. Somehow, your mind has released itself from stasis to the point where you’re even able to use your higher sensory abilities to a limited extent. A few attempts to enter into an enhanced glow state, however, have convinced you that your body is still entirely static.
A few wanderings in and out of Shilo’s earliest memories have left you a bit shaken. You had never known your mother to be so young and full of life. Her pregnancy with you, after all, had almost failed due to the aging sickness that tears at Valkyries who have lost their healing abilities. You may not know much about the accident that had almost killed both of your parents, but you do know that it left your mother’s mind and abilities severely diminished, and your mother had never recovered fully before stepping through the Great One’s Doors. Now, seeing her so full of life and wit, your remorse over her passing is redoubled.
You wait a few moments before remembering that you cannot currently shed any tears. In fact, you’re surprised that you can even access memories since your brain shouldn’t technically be working right now. You have a working theory on what may be happening, but you don’t want to get your hopes up until you can at least figure out how this might have happened. Then, you might be able to figure a way out of the situation. You make your way into yet another memory, and you can’t help but think that Shilo must have repressed some of her childhood memories as this one seems to skip ahead quite a bit.
Zhilo’di Khuda’Cronell, Age 6, Basilica of the Great Sword of Drigan’di, Qzcivden, Thor
Shilo is standing in a large crowd between her mother and a man with a disciplined, military look about him. The basilica’s large, mirrored ceiling looms over the massive crowd of people, all of whom are wearing robes, most of them white but some near the front green. In the back of the basilica and the forefront of the crowd, standing before the altar of the Great One, is a piscopoliteer in a red robe reading from a text.
“…At that time, the great Spirit of Faith descended upon Feliar’Gadi, and he slayed the men who had come to his household to take him.” The piscopoliteer’s voice echoes through the basilica and out into the forum as he reads aloud the sacred texts. “When he had done so,” he continues, “Feliar’Gadi took the hair on the head of each man and wove it into a great rope, which he used to tie the men’s bodies together. He then carried the men to the temple of the local Dragons. When they looked inside his heart and saw that the Spirit of Faith was with him, the Dragons were filled with fear that they would be discovered, for the Spirit of Faith holds power over the Dragons when She calls them by name.
“And so, Feliar’Gadi lay before the altar of the Dragons the bodies of the men he had slain and said, ‘See, Dragons, how I have slain these, your minions.’ For the men had been filled with the corruption of heart that Dragons bear from Hikar’Diferus. But the Dragons, fearful that the Spirit of Faith would look upon them with scorn and fill their eyes with the sight of their misdeeds, did not reveal themselves and remained hidden.
“But Feliar’Gadi remembered the day that his family had been slain and remembered the faces of the Dragons, and he untied the bodies, reclaiming the rope he had made from their hair and saying, ‘Teach me the names of these Dragons, my Lady, that I may call them out by name and bring to them slaughter.’ At once, the Spirit of Faith spoke the names of the Dragons into Feliar’Gadi’s mind, and he repeated them, saying, ‘Come out, Dragons, in the name of your Lady and Mother, Drigan’di, and in the name of the Great One.’
“When he had said this, the Dragons were forced out of their hiding place and into his sight. But when he saw the fearful faces of the Dragons and their bodies, so sickly and fearful, he was filled with pity for these beasts. For they had been forced into their state by the corruption of Hikar’Diferus. ‘Oh, Great One,’ Feliar’Gadi prayed, at once falling to his knees with his hands outreached, ‘free these poor creatures from the burden of their dark father’s endless corruption.’
“When they heard this, the Dragons were filled with their father’s anger and charged at Feliar’Gadi. But Feliar’Gadi could not strike them for pity. And the Spirit of Faith poured forth from him and looked upon the Dragons, who rose to strike Feliar’Gadi. The first and greatest of the Dragons there saw her and took on an appearance of great pain and fell to the ground, turning to dust. The second Dragon, too, saw the Spirit and was filled with pain and turned to dust.
“But as the Spirit of Faith looked upon the third and least of the Dragons, the Dragon cried out for mercy and fell to the ground on his own, saying, ‘Forgive me, Mother, for the will that drives me is not my own, and I am too weak to fight it.’ But he would not look upon the Spirit of Faith for fear of her scorn. At this, the Spirit of Faith returned to Feliar’Gadi, whose eyes filled with Her light. Feliar’Gadi rose to his feet and placed his hands upon the Dragon, whose body was at once restored. The Dragon looked upon Feliar’Gadi and saw the Light of Drigan’di in his eyes. Immediately, the Dragon rose with joy and began to praise the Great One, for he had been restored to the ranks of the Valkyri’din.”
The piscopoliteer looks up from the text and says, “Such are the words of the Great One, spoken to us through his servant, Yisha’idi.”
The response rises up from all the crowd standing in the basilica, “Blessings and thanks be given to the Great One.” Upon saying this, they sit upon their heels on the floor and attend to the piscopoliteer’s interpretations.
“Daddy,” Shilo whispers to the man sitting beside her, “Who’s Drigan’di?” A few eyes surrounding them dart quickly to Shilo and her father before returning to the speaking piscopoliteer.
Shilo’s father shifts slightly on his heels before leaning closer to his daughter and saying, “Drigan’di is the Spirit of Faith. She’s also the leader of the Great One’s army and the Mother of the Valkyri’din. She’s the one who gives us the strength to resist the influence of the Dragons and follow the Great One’s Will.” He looks away from Shilo and to her mother.
Shilo’s mother nods with a gentle smile before taking Shilo’s hand and locking glowing eyes with glowing eyes. “It’s Drigan’di that gives us the light inside us, Shilo. She is outside of time and space, and she is all throughout it at once. She brings us closer to the Great One and protects us from His enemies. She’s the example of perfect choice and trust in the Great One, and she is our Eternal Mother.” As Shilo’s mother finishes speaking, Shilo eagerly begins to raise another question but is interrupted by the piscopoliteer’s invitation to pray. The crowd stands, and as they sign the Sword of Drigan’di, Shilo smiles, her eyes glowing a bit brighter.
The memory fades, and you are again alone in the prison cell your own body has become. This time, however, you are filled with a slight sense of peace that had not been present before the memory. Your parents’ description of Drigan’di may not have been the most complete, but you know now at least that you have encountered Her. You wonder for a moment why no one names their children after Her, but the thought doesn’t linger for great length.
Your patience renewed, you make your way once more into the vaults of Shilo’s memories.
Memories: Hunting Trip
You awake to the diffused red light of Valkyr 43’s cargo hold. Your mind races as you realize your eyes will not open. You also notice a severe tinnitus resonating in your ear. You realize with a sharp and failed attempt to gasp that your body is still in stasis. But, then, why are you–? You reach into the ship with your mind, searching for any life signs beside your own. There are none. You expand the reach of your search, and find that you are in the depth of space, the interplanetary void. You’re also completely alone. ‘Shilo?’ Your internal voice almost seems to echo inside your head. Shilo does not reply. If your heart were beating, it would do so more rapidly at this point. Unfortunately, it isn’t doing anything right now.
You search Shilo’s memories, which are still accessible, for an idea toward what may be happening right now. You find yourself unable to make sense of the material through sheer access without Shilo’s assistance. This leaves you with only one choice: You have to sort through each memory in chronological order and learn what you need to know for yourself. Shilo’s consciousness is still in stasis with the rest of you, and it’s of the utmost importance that you understand what this is so that you can solve your current predicament. If you continue like this for the entire journey to Thor, your mind won’t survive. You start with the earliest memory you can find: the hunting trip.
Zhilo’di Khuda’Cronell, Age 5, Skogr Forest
“Can you see it, Shilo?” A woman speaks to a young girl, Shilo, while dropping to her perch on the branch, her motion almost birdlike in its gracefulness. There isn’t a sound as the woman moves onto the branch, which moves no more than it would have had there been a mild breeze. Her long, almost purely blue hair falls into perfect, wavy locks as it settles against her back. She points in a direction slightly right of forward, her eyes trained on Shilo.
Shilo looks in the same direction as the woman, her eyes training on a small Lake Wyrm, its ulfr-like snout sniffing at the air as it climbs up the side of a distant tree. Its forward paws clench at the bark of the tree with razor-sharp claws while its rear flippers bat at the tree in a typical hunting pattern. A nearby bird hears the wet beating and responds with a low-swooping scan of the water, looking for the creature that so clearly just slapped the water with its fins. As it passes the wyrm’s position, however, the bird sees the predator turn its head toward him. The bird manages a few rapid beats with his wings before the wyrm lands on him, enveloping his wings with its flippers and digging its claws into his neck, already biting into the bird as it passes into the water.
“Yes,” Shilo replies, her eyes fixed on the point in the water where the wyrm just plummeted. Her mouth is still slightly open as the ripples fade.
The woman ties her hair up into a recursive bun and pulls two small knives from the leather pouch tied to the side of her leg. The first knife, she places into her hair, securing the bun. The second, she hands to Shilo, smiling gently. “They all do that. I’m not sure why the birds haven’t caught on yet, but it works, so that’s how they hunt. You’re going to counter it with this knife.”
Shilo gives her a quizzical look. She’s clearly not sure how the knife is going to counter the wyrm’s hunting method. “How?” The question is simple and childish, as innocent as if she were asking how to tie a bow rather than how to kill an apex predator with a single throwing knife.
The woman smiles patiently as she explains, “When the bird is passing, the wyrm will jump from the tree to the bird. Any other time, and she’ll hear this knife long enough before it reaches her, giving her plenty of time to move out of the way. At that exact moment, though,” the woman grinned, “the wyrm can’t change direction. She can’t dodge. In fact, if you throw the knife right through the bird’s neck, you’ll get her clean in the head every time.”
Shilo grimaces at the thought of a knife passing through both a bird’s neck and a wyrm’s head at the same time. Nevertheless, when the woman asks, “Ready?” Shilo nods.
The woman points again, designating Shilo’s target. A wyrm only a few trees away has just started batting her tree. Dead silence runs through the two as they watch the wyrm’s prey approach. The bird flies around the edge of the tree, expecting to find a fish or small water mammal. Instead, he only finds smooth water. The bird caws lightly at the sight in surprise, but continues his glide around the tree. As he passes beneath the wyrm, the predator’s head turns toward him, her front legs kicking out from the tree and turning it about.
At that exact moment, the woman glances slightly to her side toward Shilo, whispering directly into the girl’s mind, ‘Now!’ Shilo, however, grimaces and hesitates for a single moment, long enough for the wyrm to drop with h
er prey into the water before the knife passes through the point the wyrm had just been, planting itself into the bark of the tree.
Clearly disappointed in herself, Shilo looks to the woman, expecting a similar expression from her but instead finding a kind smile. “Sorry, Mommy.”
The expression on Shilo’s mother’s face grows even softer as she ruffles her daughter’s hair. “It’s no problem, Shilo. We’ll just get a different one…”
The memory fades, and you find yourself once again alone with your thoughts. Were it not for the stasis, you’d certainly have produced tears at the memory of your mother and Shilo’s so young. As is, however, you simply focus your resolve and move onto the next memory. This is going to take a while…
Tunnels
d before your bones start to deteriorate. You haven’t received the proper treatment for extended space travel, and the distance from Nivlahim to Thor isn’t short. Zero gravity for so much time can take a serious toll on an untreated body. As you activate the pod, you utter an audible, “Goodnight, Shilo,” to the hold full of dead bodies and broken parts, your eyes resting on your dipulse as you enter full stasis.
Departure
n the drive system, and that point is illustrated when the sensors deactivate, and the ship’s systems send the results to the nearest handheld interface, which is conveniently built right into the wrist of your armor.
Keri
You look in disbelief at Shilo’s faint smile as the incredible glow she exudes fades to nothing. Your heart sinks as you watch her body fall to the ground with a dead weight that you’ve seen entirely too often in the past few days. Your mind rings with the years of information that have just made their way into a mind far younger than the information itself just as you realize that this was your sister. Instantly, you continue your run to her side, your eyes filling with tears, even as you come into concurrence with reality that Shilo is, in fact, dead. The glow in her eyes is gone as you drop to her side and lift her head, that smile still present on the face which has been emptied of life.
Words fail to reach your lips. You aren’t sure how long it is that you sit there, the smell of blood filling the lobby as the chill sets in. The room had been warmed by the battle, but now, its stagnance returns the former temperature to place as your eyes drain all tears from you. Your breathing becomes erratic as your nose runs with grief. Finally, a flimsy wail begins to make its way out of your throat. Any need for pomp and circumstance has just vanished from your world, which has grown geometrically in the past few days. Tears, snot, and noise emanate from you without apology as your grief and anger at the world are released, your own glow burning brightly. As you approach a brighter glow than you’ve ever released, however, a voice in your mind whispers softly, ‘Stop.’
Your glow fades to its normal level instantly, and you sniffle as you recognize the voice: Shilo. You look down at her body, sniffling again, your eyes searching her own for some sign of life. There is none. Death is your only greeter on the other side of those doors. Nevertheless, you reach out in all directions with your own mind, screaming soundlessly into the void, ‘Shilo?! Are you there?’
For a few moments, you look about yourself, holding Shilo’s empty frame with shielding arms. But then, ‘Of course I’m not here, you silly girl, but did you think I’d leave you all by yourself?’ You can’t make sense of it, but surely there’s some explanation. Shilo is dead, but that voice is Shilo’s, too. How can that be? Then, the voice speaks again from inside your own mind, ‘Look, I know this doesn’t make a lot of sense, but with the amount of my mind I gave you, there’s bound to be a certain residual amount of me left over in it. Now get up. We have to get you off this planet.’
You stand, setting Shilo’s head on the marble floor. She’s right, or you are. You suppose they’re really your own thoughts based on Shilo’s residual personality ingrained into the associated information. Nevertheless, it’s good to hear her voice, at least, and you take the time you need to reach the entrance to your home to sort through some of that information. You realize it’s mostly memories, but some of it is schematics, training, and technical information that would have taken years to learn. There are techniques for breathing, and you think you can catch a passing glimpse at a special type of sleep, but then you reach the room with all the gadgets and gizmos Daddy had left behind.
Looking at the room with new eyes, you see weapons and armors you never would have recognized before. Farther along, toward the back of the room in a more dimly lit section, you see a glint of metal. Moving your way toward the glint, you stop here and there to grab new weapons and refasten better armor. Your healing has almost finished when you reach the back wall. The glint is behind it. How did it–?
‘Bioswitch,’ Shilo’s voice says. At that moment, you notice a small, dusted-over switch in the darkest corner of the room. You brush off the panel, lick your thumb deftly, and press it against the switch until you hear a light beep. A panel lifts slowly, a motor whining weakly as you begin to see a small hole behind the panel. There is no lever to indicate a larger door, but the hole seems small enough that you could squeeze through it. You bring yourself down to all fours and scoot your way through the hole.
Once through, you look up and see an old dipulse: an early form of pulsecar that was designed with two primary pulse engines that rotated freely as opposed to the now-standard eight with up to twenty stabilizers. The skill required to pilot a dipulse was compared with that required to pilot a fighter ship. Well, that’s odd. You didn’t know that at all before. The wonderment at the novelty of such knowledge is soon drowned by a renewed grief over Shilo’s departure, which is followed by Daddy’s, and that by Mommy’s. You’re very nearly overwhelmed by the emotions when you hear Shilo’s voice call out, ‘Not yet, Keri. You can grieve later. You need to get off the planet now.’
She’s right. Or, rather, you are. You decide it’s best just to think of it as Shilo and not yourself for now. It might comfort you enough to make it off this world which has so long been your home. Casting that thought aside, you start looking for a way to exit the room with the dipulse. As you do so, you realize that you do not expect any difficulty piloting the vehicle and that you are quite aware of how to reach the docks from here. Thanking Shilo just as her voice points out a mechanical lever on the opposite end of the room from where you were even looking, you turn about and remind yourself to be more aware of the wider view allotted to you by these helmets.
Jumping up a couple of times, you finally manage to reach the lever with a bit of glow, and your weight pulls it down with a loud clacking sound. A chaotic grind can be heard from inside the wall as, to your surprise, it lowers instead of rising. You blink once or twice before making your way back to the dipulse, noticing that with the lowering outside wall, the wall to the rest of the armory rises, and the wall into the apartment slides back. WIth a sudden realization, you realize that the pictur
es are still inside, and you use a bit of glow to ensure you beat the slow-moving walls in and back out of the apartment, the boxes which have become entirely priceless to you held firmly in your grasp.
You make your way back to the outer room and begin to load up for your trip. The first things you load into the dipulse are the boxes of pictures, followed by the choice weapons and tools Shilo had noticed on her first pass through the armory. You even mount a few specialized weapons onto the dipulse before firing its engines, their familiar, low pulse providing a small comfort as you prepare to make your way to the docks, where Valkyr 2 is awaiting small repairs whose associated damages had resulted in its pilots’ deaths. ‘Let’s go,’ Shilo’s voice echoes into your mind. ‘You’re going to have to drive, though.’ You suppress an urge to roll your eyes and grin. Maybe Shilo isn’t as gone as you thought.
The Beat
Battle
Lessons Learned
huntress inside you comes to the forefront. A gentle memory of a dead voice you haven’t heard in over twenty cycles reaches into your mind, sending your thoughts to a long-past, failed hunt as a child; but this time, you don’t hesitate to follow your mother’s command as the memory whispers the echoed word, ‘Now!’ Your feet break contact with the ground as a burst of energy compresses behind you, propelling you into the fresh heat of a battle which you can finally fight for all the right reasons.