Titans

TIMESTAMP: 18:00, March 20th, 2122

LOCATION: The Hermes Starship, Quadrant 1, Aion Universe

Sliding through the space-time rift is like falling asleep: one moment you’re in your home, there’s a moment or a minute of falling, and then all at once – darkness. It rushes over you, transports you to another world – to a dream.

When we emerge from the portal, the parallel universe is that dream. No stars. No asteroids or planets. It’s the nightmare that starts out pleasant but which you know is going to deteriorate.

“What stage is it at?” Atara asks.

Cal presses a few things on his screen, leaning forward in his seat. “Late primordial, by the the look of things. We can expect the first stars in about a week.”

“And the base planet?”

“Fully-formed.”

Atara nods. “Good. Locking in coordinates. It’ll be a three-day flight from here.” She adjusts a few controls. “And…switching to autopilot.”

Merc unstraps himself and stands, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. Atara leans back in her seat and sighs. “Nice work, everyone.”

“I’m starved,” Cal says and heads out of the room.

Merc follows him out. Their voices echo down the hall: “What’s on the menu?”

“Re-hydrated slop.”

“Just what I feel like.”

I turn to Atara. “How’re you doing?”

She stands up slowly. “Alright. It doesn’t feel like I thought it would.”

“Going through the rift? Being in a different universe?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Doing what she did. Following in her footsteps. I thought–”

“You thought you’d feel closer to her. More connected.”

Atara nods, her face downcast. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life and all I feel is nothing.”

There’s a moment of silence before I say, “Your mother would have been proud of you for doing this. Even with all the odds stacked against you. But you didn’t need to come all this way just to feel connected to her. She’s always with you. In your heart.”

She smiles at me. “Never thought I’d hear this much cheese coming from the queen of menace.”

“Don’t think you’ll ever hear it again.” I turn on my heels and head for the door.

“Uh, Lilith?”

When I look back, Atara has moved to the centre of the room, hands hanging limp by her side, eyes wide and staring straight at me. There’s a bone-chilling deadness to her gaze.

“What is it?”

As I watch, she tilts back her head. She opens her mouth. There’s no sound, no words, no scream. In fact, the universe is as silent as the grave. But this dream of ours has just taken the first step towards deterioration.

Slowly darkness starts pouring out of Atara’s mouth, billowing like a black cloud. The image is straight out of a horror film and I have to blink a few times before I can register it as real. The dark spills up and out. It snakes down around her body and pools on the floor, swirling closer. And closer. And closer.

Ever since I was a young child, I’ve been trained in combat. In offence and defence. In tactical skill. I spent years preparing for the worst of outcomes – the nightmare situations, where you’re fighting alone, where the foe seems insurmountable.

But no one prepared me for an actual nightmare.

The second I turn to run, the door of the control rooms slams and bolts shut. I spin back around to see the darkness mounting, rising up, as if to consume me.

“Atara!” I say. “Atara, what are you doing? What’s going on?”

But the Atara I know feels as far away from this room as those we left back on Earth.

The darkness is surging around the room, filling up the empty spaces, careening into corners and walls. I turn back to the door and, with a run-up, ram my shoulder into it. It rattles but doesn’t budge. I try again, and again, until my shoulder feels bruised and broken. I resort to fists and palms. Hitting. Slamming. Yelling out for Cal and Merc.

Ultimately though, I am left to my own devices when the darkness draws up around me and fills the last of the air.

Instantly I am drowning. The dark doesn’t just remove the air, it replaces it. It becomes it. I am inhaling a toxic gas instead of oxygen and it burns my tongue. It burns my throat as my quaking body sucks it down. It burns my lungs.

“Cal!” I scream, even though I told myself I would not. Even though Lilith Satorace is stronger than this, better than this – a girl who does not bow down or give in. Or scream.

“Merc!” My lungs shudder and croak. I try to scream again but can only deliver a rasp. I am a girl falling, nails digging into the door, palms sliding off the metal. I hit the floor, gasping. There is nothing but murky darkness; the smoke without the fire. It burns me to ashes from the inside out.

Sometime later, when I’m barely conscious, the door I was leaning against draws away. My back hits the floor, cold and hard. Someone says my name. And then figures appear in my peripheral. One takes me by the arms and grapples to get me into a sitting position. I take my first breath of clean, oxygen-rich air and it is like a resurrection. I am a corpse coming to life.

“…happened? Lilith? Are you alright?” The darkness is drawing away, sinking into nothingness as mysteriously as it manifested.

I snap back to myself. “I’m fine,” I say roughly and pull away, swatting at their further attempts to help me. It’s Merc, the concerned healer, always eager to save the day. “I don’t need your heroism.”

“Wait,” Cal says to my right, “where’s Atara?”

I look ahead at the room they just pulled me from. And out of the evaporating darkness, Atara emerges, rising reborn.