Restless - Chapter 14

I twisted on my bed, enjoying the soft comfort of the mattress cupping my body. It was by far the most comfortable thing I’d ever slept on, easily beating out my wooden bed- wait, my bed? 

My eyes shot open, oxygen flooding my lungs as I roughly gasped for air. For a moment, panic struck me as I stared at an unfamiliar ceiling- one even more unfamiliar than the Reality Anchor’s room I’d been stashed in. I twisted, feeling a soft mattress compress below me as I sat up.

I was alone; alone in a room just like the last one. There, in the corner of the room, sat the familiar machinery of a Reality Anchor. Still chugging away. One of the other anchor’s rooms? What happened? The Lyzar attacked and then- then?

Still in Umbra. I could feel it, even as I pressed against the anchor. The subtle discord and near-painful intonations of the shadow dimension made me intimately aware of where I was. At least dimensionally speaking. Physically speaking? No clue. Definitely still aboard Dawn's Glory at least.

My mind played back memories of the Lyzar fight. Of the fallen soldiers, their blood dyeing their surroundings with bright splashes of red like horrible flowers. A bolt of sorrow hit me, though I was quick to put a cap on it and push it away just the same as the more graphic images. 

Martyrs were made every day in this war-torn galaxy. It was an unfortunate truth. Sacrifice and eternal devotion were expected of all who lived and served the Republic. I'd heard of Grave Worlds from the radios with monuments stretching miles, each etched with the names of a fallen soldier. I can't even imagine how oppressive such a place must feel.

I tried to get to my feet, my entire body feeling sore as if I hadn’t moved much for several days. I checked over myself, spotting several bruises on my side. Probably from where I was tackled by the fully armored Gloomguard… better than dead, I guess. I barely suppressed a groan as I headed for the door to the place. 

As soon as I left the AOE of the anchor, I could feel that cold hollowness try to creep back into my body. With a bit of focus, my body stayed solid, seemingly easier than every other time I’d tried to hold myself in one piece. Not easy, mind you, just easier.

I managed to get the door open easily enough--the door was hard to get into, not out of--causing an entire squad of Gloomguard to turn around and look at me. They were standing around at neutral, though that changed as they caught sight of a ‘superior officer’. Stupid Heraldry. The easygoing atmosphere, for the few moments I caught it, told me enough about the ship's current situation though. The Lyzar assassination squad was most likely taken care of.

One of them saluted me. “Sir, good to see you’re finally awake. Reynolds, go inform Warden Candus.” Before I could say much of anything, one of the guards split off.

Ugh, I hate that they call me that. ‘Sir’. I was at least half their age, if not more. Respect had been almost beaten into me between the church’s schooling and Vayne. Especially for servicemen and women, so hearing them call me that?

Although, I was a Herald now. A hero of the Republic and the Pyre’s Chosen… still sinking in I guess? Everything still felt surreal. Regardless, being called sir still feels wrong.

I eyed the group. Now that I could focus on something other than myself, which I’d been admittedly bad at since waking up from the Nightmare, I took a closer look at the Gloomguard. More accurately, their expressions. 

About three-quarters of them had a reverent expression one might find upon a fanatic seeing their prized relic. Such looks weren’t rare, even amongst the lowly workers on Voth Prime, but such looks directed at me? It was unnerving. Isolating, almost. Another reminder I wasn’t the same.

Heralds were as much a religious icon as a militaristic one. Pyre, some even featured as heavily religious. Endless Praise, a favorite of the radio talk shows and one of the first Heralds, always appeared with the church. 

I felt my stomach grumble fiercely, drawing me from my thoughts. So hungry. “Any chance any of you have something to eat?”

One of the soldiers slid a bar from a pouch on his armor and held it up questioningly. “Multi fine, sir?”

“Sure is. Thanks” I grabbed the offered bar, tearing open its casing as I bit into the chalky bar. 

Multi was the primary ration of the Republic. Had everything a person needed for a meal all wrapped up into one ultra-rich nutrient bar. Peak efficiency, though the texture was awful. Like mushy chalk that sat in the sun for several months. Even more efficiently, it didn’t have any flavor.  

Easy to store, nigh-infinite lifespan, and even easier to eat. It was quite common to use it as a meal replacer, even back on Voth. It had been over half of my normal meals since it was so cheap. My hunger already faded by the time I got to the last fourth. Then, as usual, the last fourth was a slog to get through as the chalky texture coated my mouth and tongue unpleasantly.

”Did the- the hit squad all get taken care of?” I asked as I finished off the bar and leaned against the door frame. The hollow feeling of my Instability was starting to kick back in, though I didn’t feel nearly as exhausted as usual by this point. I could probably hold out another few minutes before needing to head back in.

The one that handed me the bar had a bloodthirsty grin. “Affirmative, sir. Warden Candus and the Hunters cleaned up the main force. Last straggler was executed about a week ago. Hateful lizards deserved much worse.”

Pyre, I’ve been asleep for at least a week then? Guess that explained my soreness. That means… our destination must only be a day or two away, right? To the training center or whatever the Warden had called it. Where we’d be taught to harness our abilities to better support Humanity.

My mind momentarily drifted. Teleportation? Was that mine? The scene played back once more, as it had several times since I woke up. One moment I had the knife, and the next I had the vi-rifle. Instantaneously exchanged. So teleportation then… I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling it all hit.

A moment later I snapped my eyes open, nodded to the group, and then closed the door back. I wasn’t quite to the point of exhaustion yet, but I was feeling it coming. I returned to the soft, comfortable bed that I’d awoken from and awaited the Warden. At least I didn't have to sleep on the uncomfortable cot anymore.

— — —

My thoughts were a tangle when the Warden opened the door several hours later. Her face was hidden as per usual, though the fires that acted as her windows of expression drooped tiredly.

The tired droop to her flaming eyes faded as the fires seemed to crinkle into a smile. “Jasper, glad to see you woke up. Had us worried for a minute there…”

”Warden… sir?” I was in a much clearer head space now, one in which I finally started to realize I’d been incredibly disrespectful to Warden Candus since I met her. People had been flogged for less. 

“No need for ceremony.” The woman’s mood seemed to tilt up slightly. “Good work with that Lyzar.”

“I didn’t do anything.” I mean, I shot a few shots, but in the grand scheme of things that hardly mattered. If anything, the fallen soldier with the hammer and the woman with the grenade launcher did everything.

She watched me for a few moments before slowly dipping her head. ”Humility is good, though in this case unwarranted. Picking up a weapon to fight is always impressive.” 

I didn’t deserve any praise. “Only because my escape was cut off.” 

“Still, warriors are forged in battle, whether willing or not.” She nodded her head to me, sharply shifting the subject as she noticed my discomfort. “How are you feeling, Jasper?”

”Sore.” I followed along with the shift. A mutual agreement to disagree. “How are the soldiers that were with me?”

Her fiery eyes drooped once more. “The fallen have joined the Lord already… though the losses were much less than in other sections of the ship. It was a pyrrhic victory. The ship lost a lot of veteran voidsmen.”

Pyrrhic indeed. An image of the buff, hammer-wielding man’s head being crushed in a spray of matter oozed up to the forefront of my mind. Or of the soldier tail-whipped and crushed as his armor shattered. Or- Lock it away. Process it later.

“Why’d they-“ I waved a hand. I got the obvious reasons. Fledgeling Heralds were important assists. I was an important asset… but still. Why us?

”The Lyzar Empire has been pushed back since the advent of Heralds. The betrayers have shifted to more insidious plots, if that’s possible.” She shook her head sharply. “That’s for another day though. Your instructor will probably talk quite a bit about the situation of the Republic.”

”Right.” My instructor. Who would that be? I thought back to the sudden exchange of the knife for the vi-rifle. “About my power-“

Warden Candus raised a hand, cutting me off. “Less I know the better… There are a lot of enemies in the galaxy. Most Heralds have gotten good at hiding what exactly they can do, keeping their actual powers and Flaws under close lock and key. Best not say anything to anyone aside from your instructor.”

A frown sprung to my face. It made sense, logically speaking. But, like, radios talked about Heralds all the time? “What about the radio shows?”

”Carefully curated stories, you mean? Hmm… did Voth Prime have stories of Red Saint?” Warden Candus asked me.

Red Saint… There was a famous tale about him cleansing an agri-planet of a deadly plague, I think. “That's the Herald who can control blood, right? Weaker than most, but he has ingenious uses for his power?”

The woman’s fire creased at the corners. “Exactly what he’d want you to think. Most stories from the radios are carefully curated to boost faith and hope in the civilians, while also not revealing too much about the heroes featured in them. It’s a tightrope to walk.” 

Tightrope indeed. Probably more strategy. If an invading force of xenos tried to research particular Heralds, hearing false information about their powers could give said Heralds the upper hand. Trump cards and all that. It was smart.

I carefully rethought through every story I’d heard on the radio. Vayne hadn’t been kidding when he told me to carefully read between the lines of every story. He hadn’t even known the deeper meanings behind anything, just assumed the government-funded radios would be, who would’ve guessed, careful tools for information management.

It was unfortunate though. Most of what I knew about the outside galaxy came from said radios. While I knew there was quite a bit of misleading information, I assumed that the basis for most stories was a fraction of the truth. How much of my knowledge is a lie though? Were there not actual cowboy planets?

Silence filled the air, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Hers were probably much more important than mine. Eventually, the Warden killed the silence. “We should be exiting Umbra within a few hours. A couple days after that, and we’ll drop you off.”

“What’s it going to be like?” I asked.

”Depends on who you’re under. I’ve been told it varies greatly. If you’re lucky, you’ll get trained before being tossed into the fire.” She shook her head. “If you’re not? Some of the trainers are… quite insane.”

Luck, huh? I had a bad feeling about this. We talked for a for more minutes before the Warden left me to my own devices. A tremble went through my body as I sat against the Reality Anchor. Soon- soon we’d be out of Umbra. Soon I wouldn’t have to feel that background droning anymore.