I’d been spaceborne for six months "my" time (I was doing S7, you mathematicians can figure out universal time if that’s what you get off on). Anyway, the Auriga was starting to smell like a locker room, I was going stir crazy and I’d just had the last of my Green Eyes whisky. Worst of all, one of the soles to my good boots just blew out. I’d be clip-clapping myself mad until I found a new pair.
"Computer, locate nearest port." I said.
"The nearest port is the Pollard transfer station." The computer voice was a monotone female. I’d learned my lesson about sexy computer interfaces a long time ago.
"A transfer station? What do they have?"
"Refueling facility, ship repair hangar, several shops, restaurants and a few bars."
"What’s the rating?"
"The database says it’s a safe port, however caution is warned. Common patrons are miners and privateers, so it could be seedy."
"Ground rats and pirates, more likely. Oh well, set a course there. I need to get out of this can for a while."
"Course set. ETA four hours, sixteen minutes."
I acknowledged the course and took a shower, found some clothes that were "pretty clean", put them on and I waited. It’s odd that for six months in space, I don’t think about time hardly at all. But four hours to get to a port seems like an eternity.
As the ship auto-landed, the standard warnings regarding proper etiquette filled the main viewer. It was the usual stuff; don’t make deals with Dracnars, no blasters allowed, wipe your feet, you know, the typical garbage. I didn’t think much of it, I’d been on many space ports and knew how to stay out of trouble. Unless of course, trouble searched me out, which is just what it was about to do.
Finally we set down and I exited the airlock. As a rush of cool air blew past me I smelled a whole new array of odors, and I realized that getting the Auriga’s air purged would be a priority.
I flipped a silver credit to the attendant and asked him to keep an eye on the Auriga. He smiled and said "She’ll be safe." I knew she would, I designed her security system myself. But it’s easier to pay a loser a credit than explain to the authorities how a landing attendant got barbecued in your airlock.
I clip-clapped my way down a busy walkway, my boot-sole wagged like a Grinkun’s tongue in a butcher’s shop. That thought set me a little uneasy – I knew that the Grinkun’s had a bounty on me, a sizeable one at that. They hated me with a passion, and I bet that my face was adorning wanted posters throughout their empire. Could they find me here? I kept a watchful eye for any biped possum-looking critters, hoping that I’d not see a Grinkun here.
I smiled when I saw the flashing neon sign, it read "Happy Feet" and had a 3-D rotating boot underneath it. My first priority would be met here. The shop smelled of plastics and leather, there were rows and rows of different styles of shoes stacked to the ceiling. The shop-keep greeted me at the door with a "Welcome". He was a black-haired man and he looked tired, his shoulders drooped sadly, his eyes were cast toward the floor, he walked with a slight limp and his face was weathered and deeply lined. I saw a sadness in his eyes and I felt a heavy weight on his mind. Psionics are like that, even when I don’t want to touch a persons mind, sometimes I still get the impression.
"I need some boots." I said, lifting my foot to show him the blow-out.
"I’d say so." He studied my style for a moment and motioned me to follow him. "You might like these. This is authentic Cragnor swamp-beast leather. Waterproof, tough as ceramic, yet gives and flexes as you walk."
I looked at the boots, they were truly a work of art. "Is this hand stitching?" I asked.
"Yes, the finest craftsmanship in this sector. You’ll like this too," he turned the boot over, "sonic-welded soles, made of ultraduron. These boots will last you a lifetime." His words were unnerving, and unfortunately, all too true.
"How much are they?" I asked as I tried them on, all the while gently touching his mind psionically. He wanted to say 20 credits. I pushed, massaging his thoughts gently.
"T-t-t-ten credits." He said, his eyes blinked and he tilted his head as his mouth dropped open.
I stood and walked a few paces. The boots fit perfectly, they were soft and comfortable on the inside and had a quality look about them. I gave the shop-keep a ten credit coin and walked out, leaving my old boots behind. At least that was my plan.
When I hit the doorway I saw an ugly beast. It was human height and a biped - generally good signs. But this creature smelled like a dirty, wet dog, and had the head of a possum; a long ugly snout with fierce teeth hanging over a drooling lower lip, his beady little black eyes met mine. An ugly bony tail tensed rigidly as he looked me over. I’d be damned I wasn’t face to face with a Grinkun. A thrasher, by the looks of him, his slicer by his side in a golden scabbard.
This was exactly what I didn’t need. The Grinkun studied my face for an instant and then he let out a loud howl. He knew who I was. I struck out with a mind-blast strong enough to kill a human, the thrasher swayed on his feet but didn’t drop. From the walkway I saw four more Grinkun thrashers rushing toward me. Behind them were even more. Technically speaking, I was screwed.
I kicked the first thrasher in the gut, grabbing at his slicer as he fell away. I felt a sharp slice against my palm as we struggled for the weapon. I struck another mind-blast, this time focusing on making him dizzy or disoriented rather than a death-strike. I was in luck, and the Grinkun fell to his knees, releasing the slicer. I thrust the point into his belly and then jerked it out as at least a dozen thrashers were closing in on me.
I did the only thing I could. I turned and ran, into the back of the shop, praying that there was a backdoor. I saw an exit sign over a door, I exploded through that door only to find it led to a short hallway, with another door 20 meters from me. I raced to this door, slamming my body into it.
The door didn’t budge.
"Shit!" I yelled, partially from the pain of throwing my shoulder out of socket against the locked door and partially due to the fact that that was a good definition of my situation. I jerked the lock and jiggled the door handle, but it would not move. I ran back to the first door, to see at least 12 Grinkuns charging me. I slammed the door and looked for a lock. Just my luck. This door didn’t lock.
I wedged the slicer in the catch, and looked for anything to use for my last stand. There was little in the short hallway, a trash can, some old boxes, a single light emitter hung from the ceiling. I sighed a deep breath. This was the end of the road for me.
As I watched the door buck from Grinkuns slamming into it, the slicer’s blade bent with each strike. How long would it hold? One more time, perhaps two? I was truly scared now, and that surprised me a little.
Suddenly, I heard a loud crack. I turned toward the sound, it had come from over my shoulder. What I saw next I couldn’t explain. It was like a purple ribbon, waving through the air perhaps two meters below the ceiling. I was surrounded by the bitter odor of ozone, it was unpleasant, to say the least, I coughed and tried to move away from the source. The ribbon twisted and turned, the purple color grew more intense as the ribbon became larger. Then I saw something in the ribbon, something coming toward me that looked surprisingly like a leg.
In an instant, that leg fell out of the ribbon and, thankfully, it was attached to the rest of the body. With a loud thud, followed by a low "Ooomph!" a man fell from the ribbon and hit the floor before me. Then he proceeded to promptly throw up all over my new boots. Talk about adding insult to injury.
"You are Devion Mull?" The puking man moaned.
"Why, does he owe you money?" I said as I wiped my boots against his shirt.
"Answer me!" He yelled. He was a small man, thin and weak looking, he was pale and balding. But there was a serious tone to his voice and I was about three seconds from being slaughtered.
"I’m Devion Mull." I said.
"Good, I’m here to save you."
"What?" I said with intense stupidity.
"If you want to live, come with me." He demanded, as he twisted the knob on a hand-held control. The purple ribbon-thing floated down toward us, he motioned into it. Then the door flung open. He froze in fear as the Grinkuns broke through, I grabbed his arm, pulling him just out of the way of a charging Grinkun. Together, we leaped into the unknown. Hey, whatever happened it would be better than being hacked to death by pissed-off biped possums.
***
I immediately fell from the purple ribbon, striking the floor hard. I felt sick to my stomach, but other than that I didn’t feel a thing from whatever kind of portal this ribbon was. To the right of me knelt the puking man, now he was coughing and trying to gasp a breath. Apparently, the trip was harder on him.
"You alright?" I asked as my eyes scanned the room to figure out where "here" was. I saw equipment I didn’t recognize, various lab-type gizmos and whatzits that I could only guess at their purpose. The air had a sanitary smell, now corrupted by ozone.
"Yes." The man coughed, "What’s important, is if you are alright."
"I’m fine." I said, looking myself over, noticing a trail of blood dripping from my palm. "Just a scratch."
The man stood and walked toward one of his devices. "Put your hand in here." He pointed to a surface under a lens of some sort.
"Why?"
"Please, just do it. You’ll see."
"First, tell me who you are, and why you fell out of that ribbon." I demanded.
The man sighed. "Fine. My name is Jhona Krellig. I came out of the slipstream to get you, Devion Mull."
"Mighty kind of you, but why and how?"
"I need you, we need you." The man shook his head. "Let me fix your hand first, then I’ll show you. I’ll explain everything, I promise."
I looked suspiciously at the devise.
"It’s just a sterilizer/closer." He grabbed my arm and pushed it down firmly. "Hold still." He pressed a button and a green light swept across the cut. The cut grew hot, uncomfortably hot for a moment. Then I watched the cut disappear before my eyes.
"Neat trick." I said, working my fingers and flexing my hand.
"We have lots of neat tricks." He smiled at me.
"This slipstream. That’s one of your neat tricks too, huh?"
"Yes, it is."
I felt his mind; it was surprisingly complex. I’d have to guess this guy was a genius of one sort or another; his brain was ordered. "Why me?" I finally asked.
"You are famous, Devion Mull. We have a problem, and you’re our last hope."
"I see, so you saved me from the Grinkuns so I’d owe you one." I shook my head. "My guess is that you set me up with the Grinkuns, so you could just happen along and save me. Am I right? Come clean."
"I assure you that I had nothing to do with the Grinkuns finding you on the Pollard transfer station. That was just fate, the way things were meant to be. Devion, let me show you something." He turned toward the center of the room. "Computer, display information on Devion Mull."
Before me a life-sized likeness of me appeared, it looked solid and the details were sharp and accurate. The computer spoke. "Possibly the most powerful of the psionic warriors and definitely the most famous, Devion Mull met his untimely death at the hand of a group of Grinkun thrashers, in the back of a shoe store on the Pollard transfer station. His body was cut into hundreds of pieces, his eyes and heart were never recovered..."
"That’s enough." The man said, interrupting the computer.
"So I’m dead now? What is this, some kind of joke?" My voice squeaked just a tad.
"No, you are definitely alive, and this is no joke. Devion, I spent months searching through the records, desperately trying to find the exact moment and location of your death. Your being here today attests to that success. Devion, to you, I’m from the future, three hundred and forty-two years separated us. But to the slipstream, that’s just another series of coordinates."
I felt a wave of nausea. I leaned back into a chair, blinking my eyes and trying to understand what had happened. "So you came back for me from three hundred years in the future, using this time machine slipstream thing? Must be one hell of a job you want me to do."
"Yes, it is."
"What if I refuse?"
"I hope that you won’t. My research on you indicated a trait that was unusual for someone in your business. You have a sense of morals. That’s what got the Grinkuns after you, didn’t it?"
"Yes. I detonated one of their mining bases. I had no choice."
"I know the story." Jhona said, "Another mercenary had released a virus on that base, one that would have destroyed the entire Grinkun race. But you sabotaged the reactor, causing a detonation that killed thousands of Grinkuns and…"
"Saved the race." I interrupted.
"The Grinkuns never understood that." He replied. "But you never thought they would, did you?"
"Of course not. They are, were, primitive. They only knew blood and killing. But I wouldn’t have anything to do with genocide."
"That’s exactly why I searched you out. You have a knack for doing the right thing."
"Tell me more about this job."
"It’s a new race to the galactic community. We’re don’t know how to deal with them."
"New races are discovered every year. There are hundreds of races…"
"Tens of thousands." Jhona interrupted me.
"Wow, things change." I felt Jhona’s mind gently, he wasn’t telling me everything, that was certain. "Tell me about this new race."
"Do you believe in Christianity, Mr. Mull?"
"You mean God, Satan, good versus evil, angels and…"
"Demons." He interrupted me again, and I felt a chill in the air.
"I believe that there is something more than what we see here. Had you not fallen from your slipstream thing, I’d be an expert by now, wouldn’t I?"
"Yes, I suppose you would." Jhona smiled briefly, then his face turned stoic. He turned to the computer and demanded, "Display image of the delegate from Hades."
The space that had earlier shown my image now displayed a red-scaled and winged demon, with spiked tail, coal black eyes, horns, razor-honed fangs, the works. I felt my heart constrict at the image, my blood pressure shot up, adrenaline pumped through my body. This "delegate" looked to be pure evil, in the classic sense of the word. My muscles tensed, the primal fight or flight reaction overtook me, even though I knew this was just a projection. "Wow." I finally managed. "That thing is scary."
"Yes, it is. That sensation of terror you felt is small compared to the sensation you get in person. I actually threw up when I first met their delegate, Osiris."
"Why doesn’t that surprise me?" I laughed.
Jhona gave me a dirty look. "Osiris has come to us seeking our help, our protection for his race."
"Go on."
"He tells us that his race is in threat of being exterminated, sought out to be destroyed based upon his race’s appearance."
"There are lots of races that appear ugly to humanoids." I said.
"Yes, but all races seem to find the Hadeans disgusting. Even the Targs."
"Targs?" I asked.
"Sorry. They are a winged species," He addressed the computer, "Computer, display an image of a Targ."
The image shifted to a winged brown bat-type beast, it had small horns, a spiked tail, and dark black eyes. One would have to question if the Hadeans and the Targs weren’t related in the distant past, there were so many similarities. "These Targs don’t like the Hadeans?"
"That’s correct. In fact, they are a key player in the extermination, according or Osiris."
"So what specifically do you want me to do here?" I asked.
"A form of Christianity has swept through our ranks lately, focusing on angels and demons. Our leaders are convinced that the Hadeans are a race of demons, and it is our duty to destroy them. Recently certain spiritual leaders are claiming that this is the final combat between good and evil, if we remove the Hadeans from the universe, we’ll open the gates to Heaven. Devion, shortly after your death, er, I mean shortly after you visited the Pollard transfer station, psionic training was outlawed. It’s a long story why, suffice it to say the power was being used for personal gain by some. But you have the gift. You can see into this creature’s mind. You can tell us if he’s a demon or a victim. You can decide the fate of the Hadeans."
That angered me, and I shook my finger at him as I spoke. "So my conduct with the Grinkuns makes me an expert on genocide? I want no part of this. He’s not a demon, let his race live and send me back. Be a good chap and let me borrow an assault-blaster before you do, will you?"
"Devion, let me explain. When I met Osiris I saw visions. I saw people burning in purgatory, I saw Hell. We may be on the brink of eliminating evil here, forever. We may be verging on Heaven in our universe. This may be the most important event in the history of our galaxy, Devion. I came for you because we need you."
"There’s something else, too?" I felt something in his thoughts. "You have no intentions of sending me back, do you?"
"Devion, you can’t go back. You died back there, three hundred and forty two years of history have past since you died. If you return, that history is in jeopardy."
"But I didn’t die back there. Already history is different. Your computer said that my body was found hacked to pieces. How can that be? My body is here."
"I hoped I wouldn’t have to show you this." Jhona walked to a white cabinet, pressed his thumb against a contact and a round, sealed container appeared. "This, Devion, is your right eye." He handed the container to me, I felt sick to my stomach. "Actually, it was your right eye. It cost me five megacredits to have that stolen from the Grinkun museum. We cloned your body, Devion. When you and I returned here, an automatic sequence occurred, sending your cloned body back to be destroyed by the Grinkuns. So, now, this is the eye from that clone."
"You bastard. You sent me back to be hacked to death?!"
"That body was specifically engineered to have no brain activity. It felt nothing. I had to do it to preserve history. It was the only way."
My head started pounding, I sighed a deep breath. "What if I refuse?"
"That’s not an option, Devion."
"Why not? I could strangle you right now, or perhaps my psionics are strong enough to blast through your ordered, scientific mind. You’d be dead before you hit the floor."
"That’s true, however you would hit the floor simultaneously. I’m well guarded here, believe me. Now, let’s get on with this meeting, Mr. Mull."
"It sounds like I have no choice." I spat the words out.
"Your choice is to live or die. Help us, and you live. Refuse, and you die."
"I’ve already died once today. Didn’t care for it."
"Then follow me."
***
The "delegate" was kept in what appeared to be a prison cell. A transparent ceramic door, nearly a meter thick opened into a small room. The Hadean sat perched on a horizontal bar in the corner, his pointy claws wrapped around it like a bird’s foot. As I entered, Jhona slammed the door behind me. That sound, in itself, was terrifying.
As my eyes met this thing, I felt every hair on my body stand erect, sweat dripped from my palms, and I’m certain my face went white. I smelled a nauseating odor: burning human flesh. I gagged, and closed my eyes, only to see purgatory in my mind. The feeling was terrible, unadulterated evil. My body wanted to run, my mind begged me to leave, to get away from this epitome of horror. But I had nowhere to go.
"What do you want with me?" The thing hissed at me. "You want to kill me, no?"
"No, I don’t want to kill you." I said, but I wasn’t too sure about it. Close behind the desire to run was the desire to kill this thing. "My name is Devion Mull."
"I am Osiris."
I extended a hand out, making a gesture to shake its claw. Osiris looked at my hand. He was looking for a weapon. "It’s just my hand." I said, "It’s customary to shake hands when you meet someone new."
Osiris raised a claw and touched my hand. His flesh was hot, burning hot, and a claw drug across my palm. I noticed a drop of blood land on the floor.
"Why are you here?" Osiris asked me.
"I’m here to talk to you. I am supposed to find out about you and your race."
"You are here to judge me and my race." He hissed.
I decided that honestly was the best way to go. "Yes, I’m here to judge you. It’s not by my choice, however."
"Then judge me. I repulse you, don’t I?"
"Yes you do." Once again, I thought honesty was the only way to get him to trust me.
"It is my race’s appearance. That is why everyone wants us to die. They want my race to be destroyed. We are not shape-shifters. We cannot change how we look."
"Neither can my race." I replied, then I pressed on. "Are you familiar with the concepts of good and evil?"
"I am." The words resonated through the small room.
"Is your race evil? Are you demons?"
"My race has destroyed other races, we’ve massacred, we’ve pillaged, we’ve taken the spoils of war for profit, and feasted on the defeated. We gain strength from the anguish of others, Devion Mull. I know about your abilities, you’re psionic, aren’t you?"
"Yes, I am."
"The long and painful death of one such as you would be invigorating for me. I would revel in absorbing your energy; it would be an orgy for me."
"Then you are demons, aren’t you?" I said.
"We are what you label us."
"Are all your people like you?"
"I am unusual. Most of my race would have killed you already to taste the sweet rewards of your pain." Osiris looked toward the floor. "I am weak, I am a fool. I am an outcast among my people; Osiris the coward. But I told my people I’d bring victims, hundreds of thousands at a time. With that promise, they let me come here."
"Is that what you want, victims?" I asked.
"I want amnesty for my people. As we speak, starships loaded with planet-crushing missiles orbit my world. My race will be destroyed if I’m unsuccessful. I don’t want to see my race destroyed."
Was this a sign of simple survival or compassion? I couldn’t tell the difference. I tried to feel his mind, I wanted to see the motivation behind his survival drive. I felt him pushing back at me, keeping my probing at bay. "Please, I need you to not fight me."
"Are you prepared for what you’ll find?" Osiris’s words sounded hateful.
"There’s only one way to find out." I said.
"Then put your hands to my head. I will open my mind to you."
With that, I entered his mind.
***
I felt my stomach rise, my lungs gasped for air. I was falling, falling into an abyss that seemed without end. As my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I noticed that the walls were glowing red, a wet red that dripped from the rock itself – blood, I was certain. I reached a hand out to feel the wall, for some reason I had to touch the blood. The instant my finger touched the blood I stopped falling, it was like crashing into granite. The blood from the walls burned like acid against my skin, I spit on my finger and wiped it across my pant-leg. I smelled a sickening odor of burning flesh, the air was thick and hot, laced with oily soot that burned my eyes and gagged me.
"Devion, delicious Devion!" I heard a voice, it came from everywhere. It was a woman’s voice, seductive and breathy. "Delicious delectable Devion! Mmm, Devion, my sweet Devion, come to me, dear." I turned from side to side, looking for the source of the voice to see nothing.
Before me appeared the woman. She was red-skinned and nude, her body was stunning, her curves enticing, her breasts were astonishingly perfect. She licked her lips and I saw the tip of a forked tongue playing against the corner of her mouth. I forced myself to look at her face, where I noticed just a hint of horns growing from her skull. When she turned, I saw wings attached to her back. I knew what she was. She was a succubus.
"Devion, I want you Devion, I need you." She rubbed against me, her skin felt warm and soft, her touch was sensual, very hot and arousing. "You want me too." She said as her hand rubbed across my crotch. "Yes, you do."
I have to admit, desire filled my thoughts. I felt like an animal, the need to copulate grew more and more intense with each second, it was the only thing that mattered. I tried to speak, but my mouth was frozen. She had placed her mouth to mine, I felt a thin tongue flicking around my mouth.
"Devion, take me! I need to feel you inside me, Devion." She moaned as she unfastened my belt. "I need you."
My mind was numb. I had never been so aroused in my life, I needed release and I needed it immediately. Nothing else mattered, not life, not death, not good nor evil. I cupped her breasts in my hands, they were big, firm and round. I pulled her closer.
"Mmm, yes!" she moaned, "Take me for a thousand-thousand hours, Devion! Take me now and we’ll do thing you never even imagined. I can teach you, Devion. I can make you the ultimate lover."
I struggled with my thoughts, I strained to think straight. A thousand-thousand hours. But what after that? Eternity in Hell? Was it worth it? My body pleaded yes, my brain (or my Soul, perhaps?) fought to say no. I drew in a deep breath. I kissed her again, my hands explored her body even more. I heard her moan, my own eyes fluttered at the sound.
Suddenly I surprised myself, striking her with a mind-blast from the depths of my Soul. She was flung away from me, flying backwards she struck the wall with a loud crack. I’d never had that kind of power before. Her face turned grotesque, distorting into an evil caricature of a human face. She screamed at me, "You fool! You could have had ecstasy! You’re already doomed, Devion! Now you will suffer without the reward first!"
"Thanks for your concern." I said sarcastically, as I struck another mind-blast, this time crushing her out of existence. My powers were intense here, somehow I was feeding on the energy. Crushing her felt good, I sighed a contented breath as I had a vision of myself as a powerful incubus, leading lesser demons, guiding them into a war. Crushing the weak, leading the charge, I would destroy the puny angels of good with a single thought. The power that would be mine! I would be unstoppable.
I shook my head, I had to clear the thoughts from my mind. I had to focus. Why was I here? Oh yeah, to judge Osiris. I was certain now. This creature was evil. He and all his race had to be destroyed. I tried to break the mind-link. I pushed and strained to break free, I had to get away, I had to destroy this vile creature.
I was not successful. My powers here were strong, but I had no way to break the connection. I had to press on. I had to find something, something that seemed to be drawing me to it. Arms sprouted from the soil as I moved, the arms grabbed at my feet and tried to pull me down. I ran, I ran with instinctive direction it seems. I ran past thousands upon thousands of tormented Souls, deformed and defiled bodies being shredded to pieces only to be reassembled again and again to repeat the process. The moaning cries were maddening at first, but there was a certain rhythm to them, a certain pattern that seemed to bring me pleasure. The screams were music, actually, a symphony of sounds as much a masterpiece as anything Mozart created. The screams were a delicious indulgence…
I banged a fist against my own head, I forced myself to think, I forced myself to break free of the evil temptations. I strained to clear my thoughts, I struggled to think of good things.
I ran some more, I felt the something drawing me, almost pulling me to it. Whatever it was, I had to find it. Suddenly, a bony wraith materialized before me, he looked like a skeleton with random patches of flesh hanging on him. He wore a black cape, the ends in tatters. "Devion Mull. Prepare to be judged." His booming voice shook the walls.
"I’m the judge here!" I shouted back.
"That is incorrect. I will look into your Soul, my decision is final."
I tried to block his probing, but his power was strong. I envisioned myself as a youth, I saw every bad thing I’d ever done. My life had been directed by my lust, my greed, my evil within. I felt power from the evil, every life I’d taken, no matter how small and insignificant gave me strength. The memory of smashing an insect was a delight, shooting a rat was euphoric, killing a Grinkun was orgasmic. The evil was so exhilarating! I never imagined how alive I could feel by bringing death and suffering to others. I’d found my calling, my purpose for existence. That purpose was evil. I would be a devil, I would bring suffering to the living and the glory would be wonderful.
Once again, my Soul cried out, it was a painful, sad wail that I heard from within. I shook my head, I gritted my teeth and I mustered up the energy to fight back. The wraith crumbled to dust before me.
I searched out with my heart for the thing that called me. I ran, bounding curving pathways, slipping on wet, blood-covered rock, I ran and I struck out at anything I saw.
Then I saw the silver ribbon.
It looked like a flash of lightning at first, jumping between two points, rhythmically throbbing, dancing away from me. It was a point of brightness in an eternal Hell of darkness. I couldn’t tell if it was small and close to me or big and far away, I had no reference to compare to. What I could tell was that as I grew nearer, it seemed to grow stronger. There was something about this thing that seemed good. Its movements were not a dance, they were a struggle to survive, to stave off the choking evil surrounding it. The rhythmic flexing and turning was a battle, this thing was fighting, its every motion was work – but it remained alive.
I opened my mind to this thing, this silver ribbon, this beacon in the darkness. I mentally pulled it toward me, I felt stronger and I felt alive. I helped its struggling, I gave it strength to push the evil back. I felt good, in the depths of Hell there was something, something alive that was a beacon.
"What are you?" I asked, I’m not sure why I said it aloud.
The answer came slowly, it seemed to materialize within my mind, gradually building up into a word, a concept, an image.
Hope.
In the depths of Osiris’s mind, in a Hell so evil, so vile, so cruel, lived the one thing it could not kill. Hope. I was looking at a spark of hope that things could get better. Osiris was a demon, he was evil, his race devils. But if hope lives within him, his ways can change. Perhaps I was witnessing evolution on a biblical scale? The irony of that thought nearly made me laugh.
The link broke instantly, I felt myself fall to the hard floor of the lab. I was back inside my own body, I had my own mind back. I stared up at Osiris, he looked away from me, his eyes toward the floor. He was ashamed. "I know what’s within you." I said.
He hissed loudly, the words seemed like a poison in his mouth. "I cannot stop that feeling. Believe me, Devion, I’ve tried to kill it, I’ve tried to smite in out with every dark vision I can imagine." He looked at me, and for an instant, his black, sinister eyes looked sad. "What’s wrong with me?"
"It’s hope. For a demon, it’s a fatal disease." I said.
"Then I die."
"No. Perhaps for the first time, you will live. Get used to that feeling, Osiris. I pray it grows stronger in each generation of your race."
***
Epilogue
I made my case to Jhona, explaining that Osiris’s race is evil, but the spark of hope lived within him. Later, I found myself pleading this same case before a Counsel of Magistrates. It took a lot of convincing, but they finally decided to let the Hadean’s live, but keep their planet heavily guarded and prevent any and all communication from outside. The Counsel vowed to readdress the Hadean situation every five hundred standard years.
I was paid for my efforts by the Counsel, not enough to buy a ship, but enough to find a place to stay and get myself established again. Sadly, the Auriga had been auctioned off to a cut-rate bounty hunter shortly after my "death". A few years later, he lost a space battle to one of his targets, he and the ship were vaporized.
I had so much to learn, there were ten’s of thousands of species, all new to me. Ships have changed too, S13 is a common speed, opening up even the neighboring galaxies to those willing to take some risks, and I’m not afraid to take some risks.
I found that the majority of the beings these days had never heard of psionics, so I was at a definite advantage. I plan on capitalizing on this advantage at my next stop: the New Vegas gambling station. I’m entered into a poker competition with a 25 megacredit purse. When I win, I’m going to buy the prettiest ship you ever saw - a shiny black Dracnarian Daemon, that I’ll probably name Shadow of Hope. Then I’m headed to the frontier.
Jim Peters has had a couple other short stories published in Aphelion over the years, and always keeps the shadow of hope that his novel will find a publisher.