Rise of Aen Read online

  With the effect of a flash-bang grenade, a pulse of pure energy flooded the canyon and all the knives once buried in the creature now shot out in all directions. The four soldiers near the epicenter were thrown backwards, their bodies strewn with blades and rock as blood poured from them. Each struck the canyon wall lifelessly and burst into flames from the immense heat from the blast. Taylor and Wilson took cover in the nick of time—Taylor wasn’t fast enough, a shard of a knife tearing through his right shoulder. They waited for the blast to subside before glancing carefully from their cover to assess the situation.

  Both men saw the target standing, seemingly unharmed, and staring back at them in a scene that looked to be from a Hollywood movie. It stood in the midst of hot glass, the rock and sand melted, and smiled back at them. Taylor’s eyes quickly scanned the area, and he was shocked in every aspect of what power had been displayed. Molten rock dripped from the walls around them, falling with a steaming hiss as it struck the mostly smooth canyon floor.

  “And poor Doctor Frankenstein looked over all the destruction, the reality hitting home that it was all by his hand,” the creature said with an evil grin. “You chase the wrong enemy, Jensen, and in doing so you are preparing for the wrong battle. Run back home with your tail between your legs, for the next time we meet will be the last moments of your life.”

  “I created you,” Taylor sneered back as he stood defiantly, “And I will be the one to destroy you!”

  “How did that go for Doctor Frankenstein?” Aen retorted. “Think before you challenge something you can’t beat!” He smiled at the two soldiers before disappearing into thin air.

  Wilson realized he was holding his breath and exhaled deeply, almost gasping for air. “How the fuck do we fight him?” he asked as he struggled to catch his breath. “I mean, look at this place! He’s like a fucking atom bomb and we’re nothing but a party favor!”

  “I’m not sure, Avery.” Taylor replied in a distant voice. He had hoped this thing hadn’t figured out how powerful it could really be. When they had snuck up on it and observed it struggling to stack rocks with its mind, he’d been sure it hadn’t. But now, the complete devastation of the desert canyon was a testament that they were standing in the path of an out-of-control freight train, and he had no clue on how to stop it.

  Himalayan Mountains, Mount Kailash, Tibet

  “You look to be very pleased with yourself,” Caretaker droned at him in the Lyarran bunker. “But I wonder why you persist in fighting these people. They cannot harm you in any way, yet you fight them as if they are a dire threat.”

  Aen was busy shedding the heavily damaged armor he wore—trying to get it off proved to be a task in and of itself, the bodysuit in shambles from the blades and the explosion.

  “Sometimes, wrongs must be made right,” he replied as one of his gauntlets fell to the floor with a loud clunk. “Those creatures shouldn’t exist, and because they were made from me it is up to me to destroy them.”

  “I would believe that, had you not seemed so intent to murder this General Taylor fellow. It is obvious you are wild with revenge.”

  “And why shouldn’t I punish them for what they did to me?” Aen spat back; his anger growing.

  “They did what they did to save humanity. There is a storm coming, Aen, one that will test this world and you.”

  This was the second time Aen had been told of something dark and foreboding. He was tired of all the prophetic talk and was eager to finally get answers.

  “And what kind of test am I to have now that will push me more than this? Tell me, oh all-knowing Caretaker! Because in comparison to being kidnapped, tortured, remade into an alien, killed, reborn and losing my family, nothing will test me more!” He was so angry he was panting. Emotionally he had been bottled up for so long that he was overdue an outburst, but this was only the tip of the iceberg.

  “You call me a Harbinger, but of what? What am I supposed to be? Why was I the one that had to lose everything to be this?” he continued to rant. “Nothing could be worse than the pain inside as I watch my wife live life without me; to love her as I do without being able to express it! Nothing could be worse than watching my daughter yearn for her father as she cries at an empty tomb every week! So what is there that will test us all?”

  Caretaker was quiet, contemplating if Aen was done venting or not. It had surmised that it was only a matter of time before he broke, and it was worried how bad the emotional trauma had truly scarred him. So it waited what to it seemed like an eternity to answer; which in the real world was four seconds; to respond.

  “War.”

  Aen sighed. “The world is always at war, or have you been observing the wildlife instead? A war with whom?”

  “I believe the question is: with what?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “There is a dark evil roaming the galaxy, one the Empire has long fought with, but all we have managed is to keep them at bay. Powerful and ruthless, they wander system to system, stripping planets for their resources and selling the inhabitants as food or slaves. And if the sensor grid set up throughout the galaxy is to be believed, there is a group of these creatures heading here.”

  Aen was silent as if he had been struck hard in the face. There had been something worse than being separated from his family—the prospect of them being slaves or worse killed.

  “How long do we have?”

  “That is….difficult to calculate. At best assumption, maybe a year or two until they breach the Oort Cloud. That is why you were born. You are the Harbinger of the coming of the Lyarran Empire, as only you will be able to summon them to rescue Terra Sol. Humanity cannot stand alone against these creatures, but help is on the other end of the comm line I have been trying to re-establish.”

  “So what you are trying to say is that I am supposed to save Earth? Humanity is fucked,” Aen said with a sarcastic grin.

  “This would not be one of those situations in which a joke is needed, Aen,” Caretaker scolded.

  “Yes, Dad,” Aen mumbled as he got the chest-piece loose on his armour and it clattered to the floor. His humour was a front; the thought of being the last hope of the world was a ton of weight and he was unsure if he was ready for that. He wondered if he was truly ready for any of this. All he wanted was to find a dark corner to hide in and sleep, make the world and all his problems disappear if not but for a brief time. The last few days had been rough and he needed a break.

  Another resounding crash echoed off the walls as a few more chunks of armour fell from him. He was now free of the damaged protection and walked away from the preoccupied Caretaker silently. Aen was hoping the AI wouldn’t follow him as he began to descend to the lower levels of the bunker. Finding a secluded spot near a generator and sat down. Reaching into his leg pocket of his bodysuit, Aen pulled free a picture he had taken from the house of him and his family. His finger traced the lines of Krista’s face as he stared into the image’s eyes and for the first time since his rebirth, Aen cried.

  EIGHT

  Rocky Mountains, Utah –

  Military Installation Code Named White Rock

  Taylor and his crew had returned from Cairo and begun to reassess their strategy and lick their proverbial wounds. The mission, even after months of planning, had been a total disaster. Four of the hybrid soldiers had been killed—no, obliterated. There wasn’t even enough left of them to sweep up into a soup can. Taylor himself needed twenty stitches to close the wound on his shoulder plus he had a bruised larynx and whiplash of his neck and back muscles. And they thought they had the advantage!

  He had retreated to his quarters and had begun to actually listen to his doctor’s advice and rest, when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of Patterson’s footsteps approach his door. When the sound stopped, there was a long pause before the knock on the door came.

  “Enter,” moaned Taylor. His whole body hur
t now and he wondered when the damn meds would kick in.

  With a swift motion, the old General slid in the door and shut it silently and pulled a chair up beside Taylor, staring him direct in the eye. There was hesitation in his eyes, along with anger and frustration.

  “What the fuck happened, Jensen?” Patterson said softly.

  “It’s all in my report,” mumbled Taylor.

  “I read the damn report, but I want to know what you aren’t fucking telling me, son. Your report says one thing, but your eyes tell me another. What did you create?”

  “I don’t know, but it is stronger than we ever dreamed. It is wondrous and terrifying at the same time. I think we might have made a weapon too powerful to control, I think we created our undoing.”

  Patterson’s eyes shut from these words and his head bowed in frustration. His greatest fears were coming to life. Out of the promise of riches and reward had come a demon, and it was intent on making sure they all paid in full for his creation. Taylor was right, the general had read the report. He had also watched the recordings of the head cams of all in the fight. The battle plan was perfectly executed, even with the surprise outbursts of power from it. What he couldn’t figure out was how a creature stuck with so many blades sunk in to the hilt could be so dangerous. At a cost of over four million dollars apiece, this demon had simply erased two of the hybrid soldiers from existence and left ashes in their place.

  “May God forgive us for what we have done,” Taylor whispered as the meds kicked in and swept him away to sleep. Patterson stood and looked down at his long-time friend. He wondered what kind of penance one could do for such an act, and even if absolution was possible for sins like theirs.

  “It isn’t God’s forgiveness we should pray for, my friend.” He answered to the unconscious Taylor on the bed as he walked to the door. “And the one whose forgiveness we should ask for doesn’t seem the giving type.”

  —

  The sand beneath his feet was hot and dry, the air and wind burned and bit at his skin, and the visage of an endless scorched desert before him highlighted by the red glow of approaching dawn was breathtaking, but Aen knew none of it was real. It was obviously a dream, but the sensations were overwhelmingly real enough to make him second guess. That and the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually slept added to his confusion. This was an alien world, not Earth, but the question he couldn’t answer was where.

  “It is not a matter of where, but when my dear child.” A soothing female voice chimed in as if his question in his mind were said aloud. Immediately he looked about to find the owner of this voice and when he found her behind him Aen was awestruck.

  Sauntering towards him was probably the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on, never mind imagined. Standing exactly his height and wearing sheer robes with the shadows of her curves and body outlined beneath, the creature was obviously not human. Her hair glowed orange, along with her eyes to match, and her skin was almost a liquid gold color. She was a bit more human-like than Ameia, but still very different at the same time. Her movements were fluid, sultry and almost calculated; this creature was a predator of the highest level and her sexuality was her weapon of disarming her foes. Her very presence demanded respect, she emanated an air of importance.

  “It is still your home,” she continued before he could speak, “But it is a few billion years from the present.” Now standing off to his left, she motioned to everything around the two of them. “This is how Terra Sol dies, Aen—this is the end of the world. Sol is dying, and she is expanding as she devours her children one by one. Life is gone here; humanity has fled to the stars.”

  Aen watched as the sun rose above the horizon; he took a deep breath in shock as it was not the small disc of light he had always known, but a massive red fireball that dominated the sky. He fought the primal urge to flee by digging his heels in the sand deeper as he stared at death straight in the eye.

  “Why show me this?” he asked. “Why bring me here?”

  She turned to him and ran her hand across his face softly and seductively. This creature oozed raw sexuality and he found her increasingly hard to resist.

  “I am showing this to you because you fail to understand what you are. Words from your mother and the construct have fallen short—this will not.” Her hand ran from his cheek to his shoulder then to his back and around him as she circled him slowly. “The prophets fear you and rightfully so, but to me you are rather…..intriguing. You may not realize it, but you will outlast us all and this is a testament to that. This future is certain, at least the demise of the star is, but events leading up to this are not set.”

  Aen was frozen in place by the sheer power of her words. Her voice carried a melodic tune that was hypnotic, as if she was soothing the beast as to remain unharmed. It took all he had to muster his words.

  “Who….who are you?”

  “You have seen me before, and I have long had my eyes on you, my child.” She said coyly as she finished her circle around him and now stood mere inches away from him. The air between them was charged with sexual tension, her scent was tantalizing but he remained still. There was something holding him back from losing himself in her—not fear, but something nonetheless.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he stated defiantly.

  Putting her hand on his chest, she felt his heartbeat with it, before nuzzling her head into his chest to hear it. A smile drew on her lips as she felt the true power beneath. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before stepping back again, but her hand remained on his chest.

  “You didn’t answer….”

  “All will come in good time, but now is not that time,” she interrupted with that smile still on her orange-colored lips. Eyes of piercing fire looked back at him gently and softly.

  Aen grew frustrated; so much of his life now was that of prophecy and legend. He felt like a puppet held in place by his master’s strings and he longed for the day to strike his master down to free himself. The loss of control of his life was tearing him apart.

  “No one controls you, my dear.” She replied once again to his thoughts. “You are a slave to no one, not even myself. Your destiny is yours to write, not that of prophets and scholars. You alone are to set upon the path.”

  “What about all this?” he said, motioning to their surroundings.

  “What about it? This is not but a stone in the road; this is an event, not an outcome. Nothing you do will cause this or bring this about. It is simply a tool to show you what you truly are.”

  “And what is that?” Aen asked.

  She sighed, removed her hand from him and slowly backed away. Once again he was mesmerized by the silkiness of her movements.

  “You are a light in the eternal darkness of time, an infinite in a finite world—you are the best of all of us, yet doomed to suffer along with us. You are who you are, Aen, and that should be enough.”

  It was Aen’s turn to sigh. The constant circle of words was giving him a headache. He was tired, he knew this was but a dream, but obviously his unnamed hostess arranged for it. And every time he wanted an answer, all he got was a run-around.

  “But I don’t know who or what I am.” He decided to answer her riddle. “So how can I be enough?”

  All of the sudden, the dream began to fade from the vibrant colors of red to a deep blackness, as if in response to his failed attempt to solve the puzzle. Her fragrance was still very present, even though his eyes no longer could see behind the veil of darkness. She giggled, and then spoke her last words before he awoke.

  “But when you figure out who you are, what a majestic being you will become. And I look forward to the day when it is I who bows to you.”

  Aen’s eyes shot open as her last word still rang in his ears. A quick glance around reminded him that he had indeed been sleeping. Sensation returned to him, the feeling of the
chair beneath him reassured him he was back in real time. The cool air of the computer room nipped at his skin and the constant hum of the machines themselves slowly rose from the nothingness. Once again, he was in the here and now.

  He began to replay the whole thing in his mind before it slipped away into fragments of memory. He thought hard of where he had seen her before, but struggled. Turning his attention to what she had said, he began to sort out what had all happened. It began to dawn on him how frayed his mind truly was from all this and how emotionally fragile he had become. Maybe that was the truth to her riddles. Maybe, it was more about rediscovering who he was than what he would become.

  Aen slowly rose and stretched his weary frame. It had been so long since he simply rested, long enough for him to wonder what the limits of his new body truly were. In fact he began to wonder what extents he could push those limits to. There were so many questions about what he was, and all he had were riddles to answer them with. So it was all left up to him, and Aen figured it would all have to be learned on the go. Knowing that his adversaries had been weakened by the last conflict made him want to rush into the next foray, but strategy had to come before hurried fury. He knew he was beyond their capabilities of defeating him, but he wanted to make sure they knew that before he killed each and every one of them.

  Bristol County, Massachusetts

  Snow fell gently and majestically as it coated the entire city with a soft blanket, making it look like a sleepy little town. Everything seemed more serene and beautiful, even the graveyard in which Sara so frequently visited. It was all just a perfect picture, and she stood by her father’s grave for her usual weekly session. There was no bitter cold, the weather was cool enough to snow, but not too cold as to keep people inside and the wind was nearly non-existent.