Chapters:

Chapter 1, The Mist

Chapter 1, The Mist


It felt like mist, a cool mist in the dead of night, when it can be no darker. I had remembered that night so many times, and here it was again. My skin felt the sheets covering my body, the bed shifting as silently as it could as I changed my weight about it, and I could move my hands, my feet; my tail. The eyelids always seem to move last when waking up from heavy sleep, but slowly they slid open and the dark room which surrounded me began to come into focus. I remember the cold, it was the middle of a Black Month, when Tsaria slipped behind Kerana, and the massive gas giant blocked out the Sun. The temperatures plummeted far below freezing and society moved indoors for the entire extent. But our house was heated, so why did I shiver?

            Standing, I lifted the comforter off my body and felt the chilled air. Not an uncomfortable cold, which is little more than an inconvenience, but an icy cold which swirls and twists its way to the very bone. I felt that I could hardly move and watched my stolen breath drift away from me in a white cloud of vapor. Leaving the enticing bed and walking to the closet, I wrapped myself in one of my coats, the thick layering acting as a wall against the night’s air. I tried to imagine some sort of scenario shedding light as to why it would be so freezing in the house, but found myself simply unable to. It was as if every door and window were wide open at the worst possible time of year which the arid moon had to offer.

            I walked through my open doorway, never liking to sleep with it shut, afraid I would miss something, and through the entrance could see that our house was dark, and empty. Where was Dad? Certainly, he could feel the air as I and would have taken some sort of action toward it, unless something had gone wrong. Then, a flash swept across the living room, bright white color as if there was a light house past the windows. Again, it came, then again, moving over the hologram projectors and furniture with cold, pale illumination. The front door was standing ajar, the source of the icy wind, and peering out I could see the cause of the beams. Two white Coalition shuttles with their signature oval bodies and silver crests of four planets on the side were parked on our front lawn, the dark figures of soldiers standing by them.

             My father was a general for them once. Nearly a decade ago, he commanded the fleet that put down the Gray Rebellion saving thousands, tens of thousands of lives. I remember seeing his medals, the award ceremonies, the people on the street recognizing the man; he was a hero. We lived in a sizable house far on the outskirts of the savari capital, Neri, the largest city in all the Ulari systems. Mom had always wanted to live on a farm, so we bought a large plot of land and put a custom-built home on it. Though most of Tsaria is arid desert, with enough water, the parched soil becomes fertile ground supporting forest and grass land. Not long after we finally settled down, though, she contracted Ghost Lung, normally a disease which kills Humans, but she never told anyone when she wasn’t well. I don’t remember a lot from the days when she was still with us, but stubbornness was one aspect of her personality which followed her to her deathbed. By the time she had passed out at our friend’s wedding, it was far too late.

            In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t looking at the ships anymore, but at a projected picture of our family which was sitting on a table by the front door. We looked so happy then, just a normal household without any real problems, but the past had torn me from the present for long enough. I stepped through the front door and began to walk toward the shuttles, my feet crunching against the frozen ground. There were five men, three of the Coalition’s elite guards, a human officer, and my dad. He looked tired that night, his scales showing pale green in the cold and his eyes sagging in a sad sort of way. He was less like the picture than he used to be, but there was no denying that he remained a tall, proud man. Still looked like a general. He saw me approach, his shoulders tensing up as his tired eyes suddenly gained an alertness.

“I thought you said she was already on the ship Desmond,” he asked the officer.

            “Stay focused Mark,” replied the human in an aristocratic tenor, “can you answer my question?” Dad turned to him with a look half of confusion and half anger.

            “To blazes with your damned question Desmond!” The man jumped with surprise at dad’s new ferocity. The officer was thin, human, and quite a bit younger than his superior. He sported a well-kept uniform and had short, orange hair mostly concealed by his cap. Dad was no less than furious. “You told me she was on the ship!” Desmond took a few calming breaths.

            “She will be Mark, don’t worry.” He spoke in a proper, educated voice which turned out to be far less than convincing, and it soon became abundantly clear that my coming out of the house before they left was not part of his plan. “Now please, this is an emergency, get on the ship.” He hissed the last few words, but they did not stop dad from walking toward me. However, the guards stepped in front.

            “The Hell?! Out of my way, I order you to step aside!” They stood firm, though father continued to try and struggle past them.

            “Marcus, please. Get on the ship!” The orange haired human was now returning with shouts of his own.

            “Not without my daughter! Desmond, what the Hell is this?! Who authorized this extraction?!”

            “Silence him!” was the man’s response, concise and to the point, only a wave of his hand communicating any sort of feeling in the order. The guards stepped over, visors black, armor black, but shining from every light which the night had to offer. These were Unseen Elite Shock Troopers, UESTs, the only time I had ever seen them. One placed his hand on dad’s shoulder, and his eyes momentarily lost their alertness. He sagged slightly, but his voice continued to shout.

            “Ellia!” I could see the twinkling of tears in the corners of his eyes. I tried to rush to him screaming, “Dad! Dad!” but it was of no use. The Elite Guards were far stronger. It was like trying to push your way past a brick wall.

             At this point, my Father was barely able to move. He just attempted to whimper, “Ellia,” but it came out in a barely audible way, his arms groping past the shoulders of the guards with aimless futility.

            He went limp. A UEST threw him over his shoulder as one would a sack of grain, and I felt a cold, mechanical fist in my gut as my vision abruptly blurred. I fell to the ground barely able to breathe the frigid air, and the ships hummed to life as thrusters blanched bright, blue flames. I attempted to rise, able to hear one last “Ellia...” from the closing door, and I croaked a choked up “Dad...” Any progress I had made toward standing was soon invalidated as the two ships began to ascend and I was knocked off my feet by an icy rush of wind.

            I lay on my back and watched them rise into the night sky, their forms quickly becoming only blue dots, and after a few moments, nothing at all. I was alone. Truly and completely alone. I had felt alone when my Mother died, but this was far worse. It felt cold, and dark. Like a cool mist in the dead of night. Like I just needed the sun to rise, so I could see clearly again. So this could all go away. This façade, charade, illusion. So I could wake up. Then I awoke.