Sykport

Previously

As Rasputina promised, I was given food and drink and allowed to sleep.

I did not dream, and was left alone for a long time. I woke up and saw outside my window, once for I would guess an hour. My best judge of time was watching the light from the window slanting across the room, and guessing where it had been some time before, and judging how much time would have to have passed since it arrived at a second point.

A guard I’d never seen before, with no weapon other than a sword, woke me from a nap by opening the door. “Is it time to go?”

“Yes,” He said. “This sword is for you, but I’m not to give it to you until we leave the elevator.”

“Will she come to see me off?” I asked.

He shook his head, and somberly, stepped aside to let me pass. I walked past him and tried to look in his eyes, but they were cast against the ground, and his head tilted so that I would not have been able to recognize him even if he’d been someone familiar.

He followed behind me for a short time, and then put his hand on my shoulder.

“Do you know which way to go?” He asked kindly.

“No… Where are we going?”

“To the central platform. The one that you got up here on. We’re going to the top of the tower.” His phrases were quick and I very quickly heard the fear in his voice.

“What is this?” I asked. But he did not answer. I felt the tip of the sword against my back.

“There’s only one way to go, forward. These tunnels don’t make forks, or give you choice. They know where you’re going and they adjust themselves accordingly,” he said.

“What?” I asked. “Is it to repel invaders?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” He said, “Now; go forward.”

The pressure on the tip of the sword increased, and I moved forward. He kept it against the fabric of the back of my shirt, and we kept going forward through the tunnels, following the path that the tunnel had chosen. In less time than before, it seemed, we arrived again at the moving platform. He forced me on, and it started to go up. I looked behind to see him toss the sword on it. He did not get on, and instead he stood on the catwalk and watched me go up.

I saw his face turn, in the same manner that Barbara’s had when she had been sitting with me, before I left the engine. In his eyes was that same sadness. And I realized that the sadness was pity; that he thought I was going to my death. It was what Barbara had thought too, I realized.

I grabbed onto the sword and sat down on the platform, which rose and rose, moving faster with each passing second until I lay down and felt myself pressed against the platform below me. And then I noticed that the pressure ceased, and only wind rushed past me. And then I felt lighter as the platform slowed. And it slowed and slowed, and I looked above and saw a ceiling. I knew that if the platform were to travel straight up into it, I would have been crushed. Fear entered my veins and made me tremble, as the ceiling grew closer. It was metal of some kind.

But the platform stopped before we would have impacted. I stood staring at the termination of the shaft, and saw it slide open. A ladder extended down, and I knew that I was to climb onto it.

I kept the sword in my right hand and climbed slowly. I relied more on the strength of my left hand to keep myself moving up, and pressed down against rungs with my right hand to raise myself up and up. As I reached the opening that the ladder had extended from, I heard the platform descend. But I did not look down. I climbed up.

I was again in the cold outside; and it seemed very dark. Only the moon overhead seemed to give light; there were clouds enough that the stars were insignificant. I hoisted myself onto the roof, and once my feet were clear, I saw the opening close itself, in a sliding fashion. I stood, and held the sword in my hands very loosely. Around me was a metal plain, with a square building some hundred or two feet in one direction, and a visible termination of the tower in another direction. I was on the very highest point, I realized.

The building was an addition, and it was only three stories tall. Compared to how many stories of the tower itself? I have no idea, and I do not believe it was the kind of structure that would be measured easily in stories. The highest point on the tower had slightly lower air than below, but it was not very noticeable. I only breathed a little harder. And I believed it was from trepidation of the events that were to occur, instead of any lack of oxygen.

I determined that the building was the only logical place to go towards; if I was moved to the roof, and then given no further instruction, I guess the building seemed ideal. I moved towards it, holding my sword upright. The wind picked up and some snow fluttered across my vision. The building seemed bigger as I moved towards it. My sword wavered on the air a little, and then I saw a door on the building. As I moved closer I saw windows as well, and I thought that it looked so traditional. Like something built on the engine.

The door opened, and Rasputina stepped out, dressed in heavy furs. She looked at me, and then stepped from the doorway. In the opening I saw light, and movement, and then Bishop appeared, and followed her after closing the door behind him. He was wearing the same things I was, but he looked absolutely frozen. I could hear his teeth chattering as the wind brought it towards me. His haggard breath was the loudest thing aside from the wind, even their footsteps seemed inconsequential.

Rasputina stopped, and Bishop stopped at her side, and moved closer to her. She put an arm around him, and I saw immediately that they were family. Mother and son. “The engine had no part in this at all?” I asked.

“No,” Rasputina said, “But Bishop does know where to find information on the Carentans.”

I looked to Bishop for confirmation, and he nodded, but I also saw fear in his eyes, “How can I trust you?” I asked Rasputina.

“I don’t know,” She said. “I’m sorry, I never meant for it to come to this. When I acquired your freedom, I had meant to put it to use against the cryonauts below, but no one told me that you would be so human. Rakkard agreed with me, said that you were a weapon, but didn’t want me to let you go so easily. He knew that you knew Bishop, so I arranged for him to come over from the engine…”

“Who is Rakkard?” I asked, “Bishop? You’re not from the engine?”

Rasputina responded first, “Rakkard is the dark one that possessed me… I figured you would have known, but Bishop told me that the engine doesn’t have any dark ones, so that it wouldn’t be obvious.” And then she stepped forward and looked into my eye, and I saw that emptiness, that vacuum from before. I realized what it was that drew me in. “He’s angry now,” Rasputina said, “He wants me to kill you. But I need you to kill him. Bishop can’t, he’s not strong enough. But you’re a Carentan!”

She stepped back, and I saw a kind of dark substance drip from her mouth and then flow outwards into the air. It seemed liquid at first, but became gaseous as it was exposed to the air. Bishop held onto his mother and pulled her back, as the filth was dredged forth. Once she was emptied, she stumbled completely into Bishop’s arms, and he began to pull her away.

The darkness that had poured from her manifested itself. It grew tall, twice as tall as I, and made itself into a vaguely human form. It was like the image of someone behind a thick veil of smoke; except that the only thing there, was smoke. I saw its hands extend into long claws, and its back arch, so that it appeared more animal. When I looked at its head, I saw it as more spherical than a human head, and it stretched itself further and became more thin.

Then it lunged. It glided through the air, but never left the ground; its tendrils always remained latched, but never slowed it. I raised my sword instinctively, and it drew closer. I swung at it before it drew within three feet, and it pulled back to escape my swords reach. But it had a much longer reach than I had, I realized. Its arms were at least five times as long as my sword, and it could easily attack me if it wished.

It did. I raised my sword to defend myself, and the claws were cut to pieces against it. But the ends still grazed against my chest, and I fell backwards, gasping. I stood, trying with all my strength to prepare myself for another attack. It swung again and I tried to defend the same way, but it stopped short and then reached to my side. I swung my sword to the side and cut at the wrist, but the fingers still pulled against the palm, and the claws cut into my side.

I staggered and fell. The sword clattered to the ground in front of me, and I felt only pain. A pain worse than I had ever experienced before. It was a sharper pain than Livingston’s sword had caused; more painful than the disgrace of being exiled from my home.

I scrambled back to avoid another swing, and then the creature placed itself over my sword, so that it was completely outside of my reach. I felt my side and could feel smooth skin; so that I knew the wound had healed itself and I would not be losing more blood, and then I stood. I faced the creature that had possessed Rasputina, and prepared myself to die. I ran towards it, and it opened its arms wide to receive me.

I scooped my sword up, and fell into it, cutting the air. But I knew that it had been useless. It had opened itself too well, and I was now inside of its murkiness. I looked out but only saw the night. I fought it, and found it was turning to liquid again, and trying to get into my mouth. I shut my lips and swung the sword in a wild arc, hoping to catch something, and then swung it the other way. I saw that I opened a small fissure in its side, which closed quickly.

But this gave me hope, and I swung against it, my breath running out. I tried to move forward but it was hard. I swung back and forth in front of me, and moved forward against its force. I pushed myself through the final barrier and emerged on the other side.

I was again in the air, and opened my mouth to get a breath of air. I turned around, swinging my sword, hoping that I might cut it again where I had escaped through, but missed. It had moved itself away again, and now resembled a shorter figure, that more human in shape, save the legs which now merged into a long dress like shape.

I charged for it, now not fearing contact with its body, but only the claws. It made an attack, and I ducked, and spun around and cut at its claws, and then swung the sword into its chest. But I missed again, and could not see it.

I felt the pain it had caused in my side, but looked down and saw a claw extending from my stomach. It twitched, and I felt my insides shudder. It had gotten behind me, and I had not been able to see it happen. The claw twitched again, and then moved violently from side to side.

My torso dropped backwards onto the cold steel, and my legs dropped away from me in the other direction. I looked down at them, and saw redness seeping out. My sword still in my hand, I pointed it at the darkness that now loomed over me. I saw it descend upon me, and then all was blocked out as before. And I knew that it was going to kill me.

My eyes shut, and I held my lips closed against it, but I lost the willpower soon. I felt weak, and my lips were ripped open. The liquid rushed in as I tried to gasp for breath, and I felt my life leaving me.

And that is the last thing I remember before I wake up in the engine.