The Lost Souls

Part one: Initiation

It’s time to start again. It’s time to breathe in the air that has been long forgotten, much like the past. He knew it was time. The internal mechanisms of his mind had been calibrated to recognize the thaw command since birth. His mind was soaring over the glittering cerulean oceans of Earth, through the steel and glass towers along the sandy coasts, and the dense leafy forests along the edges of mountains. The images were of a dream, but also a memory. He had never visited the blue planet before, but someone else in his mind had. Someone he couldn’t remember. It was a dream he had grown familiar with, even comfortable. His memory was slowly flooding back: his identity, his mission, his personality.

Leviath. That was his name. He began to sense reality again, his eyes flickering open to the blinding glow outside. Vapor swirled around him, condensing on the thick glass wall before him. He threw his numb hands on the glass, acting on an instinct mankind had always known—trying to escape from the cage. The cryo-tube was just large enough to house his body.

He began to bang at the glass, but his body was too weak. A voice came through the tube’s speakers, although it sounded electronic. It was a woman’s, and very monotone.

“Thawing complete. Starting welcome initiation.”

Leviath began to remember where he was. He was on board a space cruiser or part of it at least. His team had been sent on a mission to scout out a nearby galaxy, or at least his ancestors. He had been born during the return trip, just after they were attacked by an alien race. There had been much bloodshed and communication with Earth had ceased. The slip space engines had been disabled and the ship torn apart. He had entered into cryo-sleep when he reached 30 years of age. How long he had been frozen was unknown to him.

He was wearing a helmet with a visor, which came to life with monitors and controls as the voice spoke again.

“Welcome committee complete. Initiation complete. Preparing for extraction.”

The glass lid began to squeak open and the hiss of gas release hurt his eyes. His skin ached like hell, but he found the urge to life himself up and out of the living casket.

He entered into a bright room, three levels of cryo tubes strapped to the pale walls. The black metallic floor clanked as his combat boots made contact. An observatory box hung partially suspended above him, although he couldn’t see anyone through the tints. The room was empty of life, the only audible noise being the hum of machines and the beeping of computers.

Someone should be here, he thought. I wasn’t alone when I went to sleep.

He stretched a bit, his muscles stinging as he reviewed his cryo status on a nearby data display.

LEVIATH INITIATED. SYSTEMS ONLINE. MONITORS ONLINE. EXTRACTION ENGAGED.

CRYO BAY 5 MANUAL OVERRIDE INITIATED.

WAKE STATUS—SLEEP TIME—23 YEARS—10 DAYS—15 HOURS—31 MINUTES.

WAKE-UP STANDBY. OVERRIDE. SECURITY LOCK DISENGAGED.

MANUAL OVERRIDE—PASSCODE—EARTH BOUND.

98743127601.981.27.5—LOCATION RECOGNITION—0. AUTOMATIC SYSTEMS OFFLINE. MANUAL SYSTEMS REQUESTED.

CRYO BAY 5

23 years! He thought, how can anyone possibly stay alive for that long in frozen sleep?

But one detail startled him. He was manually thawed. It wasn’t like his crew not to send welcoming party. He began to head for the automatic door, which’s sensors were already glowing blue for unlocked. That’s when he heard the rattling.

The first thumps and rattles clanged against the door outside. It was like claws scratching against the metal and the pounding of the wall. Leviath’s heart pounded quickly as he raced for the keypad, punching in a command that locked the door. A titanium blast shield slammed into place as he backed away.

Clearly not the welcoming committee, he thought.

He made his way to the back of the room and peeled the metal blinds open to peer out the window. He knew what he saw from his dreams.

A planet with blue oceans and white whisks of clouds spread out below the ship. Green land masses bordered the seas like a multi-colored marble, but it differed slightly from his dreams. A great column of gray clouded a good portion of the globe, the red glow of fires visible at its base. Glittering objects floated in the planet’s orbit, space junk, and lots of it.

He had little time to consider what was happening. Heavy thuds slammed against the blast door. It began to bend and glow orange like the embers of a fire as the titanium melted. He heard the scattering of clawed feet and the thumps of heavy boots. A bright light blinded him and he felt something slam against him. His knees gave way as he collapsed to the ground. His vision faded in and out as he felt a swipe to the face, his helmet breaking off from his head like glass. Then he felt a punch. He could taste his blood as it drained into his mouth, filling in the spaces between his teeth.

He could see a blurred movement in front of him as he tried to crawl across the plated flooring. A foot pinned him to the ground. He planted his face into the metal, hoping it would end soon. A clawed hand gripped into his head and pulled his face up to view his captors.

A man dressed in dark armor and a slightly tinted visor smiled. He was surrounded by a group of bear-like creatures who gripped some sort of gun, which pulsed with an orange glow. As if they, too, were living.

“Welcome to Earth,” the man greeted him. He bent down and offered his gloved hand. Leviath took it, but felt the cool barrel of a gun at his bloodied head.

“I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Please,” Leviath managed. “Don’t kill me.”

“No?” The man questioned him. His finger was on the trigger, squirming as if trying to intimidate Leviath. A shot rang out and a flash of orange momentarily lit up the room. It was followed by another shot, brain matter splattering the walls and floors. The man felt satisfied.

Part two: Looking Glass

North American Space Union, space station: Silver Mountain, orbit over Earth

May 2353

It should have been a sunny day. The swirling white clouds were avoiding the green conifer forests of western Washington, thundering upon the Oregon coast with what would soon be rain.

Correction, acid rain. It would definitely be acid, Ritchie thought.

He took the controls of the telescope, zooming in to the smoking ruins of his hometown. The skyscrapers were missing their upper floors and the network of freeways remained littered with cars and semi-trucks. Bullet trains and monorail cars were scattered along the vacant rails or smashed into the concrete below the viaducts like squashed watermelon. Worst of all, the bodies. Ritchie hated to spy on the resting places of dusty skeletons. The city’s bay was full of green and brown poison-water, dead fish beached along the sea walls.

Seattle.

Ritchie often wished he could go back to the time before the war, before those gray-skinned aliens arrived. That day was one he could remember clearly. A six-year-old boy, he was with his parents at Green Lake park learning to ride a bike. He had fallen a few times, on purpose, to get his parents to take him home. When that plan failed he sucked it up and began to ride on his own, which is when it all happened. The space ships entered the atmosphere and all hell broke loose. Life hadn’t been the same ever since.

“Doctor Scott, stop playing with the instruments and get back to work,” the voice on the intercom told him.

“Yes, sorry Sir.”

Ritchie watched the camera near the door stop beeping as the Captain stopped his spying. He turned the telescope off and stepped over to his messy work station, scattered across the tops of multiple tables. Test tubes were filled with a variety of liquids and substances that had been collected from the aliens. Scales and burners were placed around the workstation and data displayed lit up with plans, notes, and references.

It was Ritchie’s job to help what remained of human government to discover more about the aliens. That included alien technology, for which a separate workroom had been set up across the hall. Ritchie hadn’t been able to make any breakthroughs in understanding, and as a result he was in danger of being fired.

And in this day and age, being fired meant being returned to the dying planet below.

Ritchie had had some progress, however. He believed that he was getting close to understanding how aliens had been able to slip past human defenses without being detected during the invasion. His research just needed a final step. That step required funding and time, however. He knew the Captain would never approve of a mission to benefit his experiments, nor would he be able to convince what remained of the Earth Commonwealth government to grant him some. They had enough on their hands at the moment.

“Good day, Doctor,” an automated voice said as he began to work.

“Is it day?” Ritchie asked. “I seem to lose track of time out here, Terence.”

“So does everyone else, Doctor. Your work may have to be put on hold, I’m afraid. You are going to have some visitors.”

“Visitors? Who…”

“They are on their way.”

Ritchie couldn’t remember a time that Terence, the station’s artificial intelligence, was completely helpful to him. He tended to only have a presence in the station’s bridge and in the engineering sectors, leaving little time with doctor. When Terence did decide to pay Ritchie a visit they were usually very quick meetings with very vague conversations.

Still, Ritchie respected the AI. He couldn’t be sure if it was because of Terence’s endless pit of information or because he had control of the station’s life support and gravity systems.

As Terence had promised, there was a tap at the door and sound of it sliding open. It was followed by the sound of boots and the rustling of combat armor. The man, Ritchie assumed it was a man anyway, grunted to get his attention. Ritchie removed himself from his studies and walked over to the man.

“What can I do for you?”

The man removed his black helmet to reveal his dirty, hairy face. “We have a wounded man. Captain said you could help us.”

“Well, don’t keep the man waiting. Bring him in,” Ritchie said.

“It’s not that simple,” the soldier explained. “He isn’t one of ours. We found him on that incoming cruiser. I’m afraid that you will have to come to him.”

Ritchie followed the soldier just outside the door and across the hall into the sick bay. The station’s medical team was out on a supply run on the Earth’s surface, leaving only Ritchie to deal with the medical duties. The man from the ship was strapped to an operating chair and surrounded by a dozen or so armed soldiers, including a few bear-like guards.

Cherjiks, he thought in disgust. They sure aren’t letting him go easily.

The man’s face was bloodied and his clothes were stained. His armor had been stripped off and piled on the floor and his shirt ripped in various places. His black hair was dripping with sweat and his face had concerned written all over it.

As Ritchie entered one of the men stepped before him. He was wearing a black helmet and visor, but Ritchie felt a chill run through him as he looked where his eyes would be.

“Finally!” The man spat. “Took you long enough doc. I thought you would already be in the sick bay.”

“My apologies,” Ritchie said. “I was not aware of the situation. I was just focusing on my research duties?”

“Research?” The man laughed. “I thought your name was Doctor Richard Scott.”

Ritchie nodded. “No matter, I will take care of the patient.”

The soldiers began to file out of the room, leaving only Ritchie, the man, and the patient. The man took one last glance at the patient before pointing a finger within the “too close for comfort” radius of Ritchie’s face.

“Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

The man rushed out of the room and sealed the door behind him, leaving the room silent, except for the light sound of the ventilation system and the hum of the station’s mechanisms. Ritchie approached the man, many questions burning through him.

“I am Doctor Scott, but you can call me Ritchie. I will be tending to your wounds. Now, please hold still.”