Valice - Origins

  Written by Ian Dean

  Illustrations by Ian Dean and Lee Dean

  All good and evil;

  Forces just as tangible

  As both space and time

  Part I

  1 – The Awakening

  The first thing I felt when I knew I was alive, if barely, were the sun’s rays on my face as they bored through the thin atmosphere—though they were still weakened as they passed through the city’s forcefield dome.

  The noxious swirling smoke had thinned and dissipated, and as my vision returned, I saw that my legs were under rubble. I couldn’t feel them, and whenever I tried to move, splintering pain ran through me. I would likely die here, maybe within minutes, and become just another victim of a merciless and nameless force. I began thinking, about everything. It was all I could do. It felt like people couldn’t find time for recollection anymore.

  I thought about things that I now rarely pondered, of places and times long gone. My mind quickly wandered to ten years back… to when times were better, maybe sublime when compared to now. Even though only trickles of those memories remained, thinking back to those days was often reward enough. It was like another world a decade ago. I found it hard to imagine how much could change in ten years.

  A broken picture frame lay nearby. Fire had gotten to it, and the plastic plate began to melt, oozing drips of color onto the dirt where they dried. It was a photo taken during my childhood. There I was: a scrawny, wide-eyed boy of three standing between my parents and older sister in a green dress, looking beyond the camera. We smiled. I couldn’t remember a time since then where I didn’t fake one. The date, slowly turning into liquid, read ‘1–07–98.’ What few memories I have of those times, I cherish.

  Our planet—a small, lonely, fertile rock in the outer rim of the Milky Way galaxy—had once found its peace many years ago. Rebel nations became civilized. All regions shared all the resources, and a law of ethics was written to accommodate everyone. The government ensured everyone had a home, a job, and an income. They treated us fairly and guarded us.

  Basic knowledge was taught in the primary schools. In advanced, that I just recently entered, you dug deeper into those basic facts of world life as you prepared for your role among the government’s workforce. That was the way things were. You learned, you served the people, then you eventually died and your children took your place.

  When I was young, Earth was experiencing an era of innovation and seemed to be pushing fast into the future. We had colonies on the moon, and we were beginning to settle on the planet Mars. Major military groups were sent off to the red planet, as were science teams that would help create an atmosphere and make the planet as habitable as our own. I remembered nights in front of the television, watching yet another shuttle blasting off for the distant world. Just a few minutes prior, the crew would be waving to onlookers while they took pictures of the event.

  My father had a diplomatic position. He was a member of the Terra-Force Empire, the central protecting, ruling, and military power for Earth, and was highly regarded by those who knew him. My mother worked in the investigation branch, where she helped solve criminal cases. She didn’t go out to a crime scene—she remained at the Imperial Network headquarters in Chicago and used her technical skills to analyze and compare data. She’d often work overnight, leaving my sister to provide dinner. We hardly ever left the city, so the day we got news from our father of a special opening was the most exciting time of my young life.

  We had been invited to celebrate the centennial New Year in a beautiful dome on our satellite, Luna. It had a gorgeous view of Earth, and was lavishly decorated. Elaborate columns and staircases with layers of painted tile lay under the reinforced dome, with a fountain as a centerpiece.

  I was only five, but I remembered this particular New Year’s Eve above all others—I could barely recall any at all except for the one in 2201. The holiday has now turned into a day of remembrance and sadness for Earth’s citizens, and it has become a reflection of dread for most. The final day of the year was now one to mourn, and during the last hours of the night, there is, even now, an unsettling silence all about our neighborhood.

  A few weeks prior to the event, news broke that Earth had suddenly lost all contact with Mars, and the military had been sent out to investigate. Security was improved for the New Year’s Eve celebration on the moon, but many found it astonishing that it took place at all. But it did, and everyone still alive from that night has lived to regret attending.

  As the final minutes of the 22nd century came to a close, an urgent alert went over the emergency system, ordering a full evacuation of Luna immediately. Red lights started flashing throughout the dome, and guards scrambled to get us to escape shuttles.

  About half of the diplomats boarded the first ship, which hastily launched off for Earth without escort. As we watched in terror, a swarm of unknown spacecraft coming from seemingly nowhere blanketed the vessel in a hail of plasma. With almost no defenses against the enemy, all they could do was attempt to get its speed up for escape.

  In a matter of moments, the carrier exploded into a fireball and, very slowly, descended back to the white chalky surface. We stood frozen, at a loss for words for what had just happened. We didn’t know that war could still exist in this world, and in such a mindlessly horrific way.

  A moment later, everyone panicked and ran to the remaining ships. My small body was nearly trampled, but I held close to my sister and my mother, too scared even at my age for tears. The mass of people slowed to a standstill as we got closer to the exits. Outside of the dome’s windows, we could see the enemy exchanging fire with our ground defenses. I remember spotting several larger unfamiliar vessels land somewhere past the horizon.

  Soon afterwards, we heard shouting coming from inside the dome, followed by ringing that echoed across the structure.

  “They’re sending in infantry! They’re breaking through!” an officer cried out to the crowd.

  A horror story was being acted out before me, and I had no control. This memory seemed to suck all of the others out of mind, existing as a black hole. The images of that day may never leave my dreams.

  Somehow, we squeezed aboard an escape craft that fired off from the surface. I didn’t expect to survive as I watched the destruction of other escape vessels, hit mercilessly by the onslaught of enemy spacecraft.

  I never caught sight of the ground soldiers invading the dome we had fled from, and the few remembered details I had of the very agile enemy spacecraft has seemed to have all but vanished from my mind.

  It was an unnerving six-hour flight back to Earth. And when we entered the atmosphere, we could see no end to the nightmare—the enemy was already hitting us at home. Burning towers appeared through the clouds, and black smoke had risen into the sky. Surely it seemed like the end of everything. And maybe it almost was.

  Only three of the eleven transports made it back, making only a few dozen survivors in all. And the thing I could remember clearest was my father being rushed off to the first doomed shuttle…

  As I remained under a mound of twisted wreckage, I came to that realization that my odds were not good. This world was now plagued with an enigmatic corruption and hopelessness, and it may be better to simply stop being a part of it all. But if I gave up now, Ruby would be alone.

  No, not yet. I needed to go on. I still had a life ahead that I could use to make a difference, somehow, even if my body was broken. It wasn’t my time. Not yet… Something told me that I needed to survive. Some voice in my mind gave me a spark of courage. I gathered up my strength and pushed some of the top layers of the rubble off.

  The roof had caved in, and a pipe used to run “cold” plasma—a typical primary heating source—had broken and come to rest on top of the debris. I helplessly inhaled smoke. It was acidic and stinging, and I coughed violently afterward. I quickly covered my face with my torn rubber coverall, and the remaining smoke dissipated enough to let me see again.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  But my eyes were still burning painfully, and I couldn’t keep them open. I dangled my hands around until they hit hot metal—the pipe I had to dislodge if I were to free myself. I bit my lip and braced for the coming heat, and slowly moved the nearly molten metal enough to get it to roll off, burning my hands in the process.

  I managed to free myself enough to provide an easy rescue—as long as someone came by and saw me. I knew that it could take a while.

  I recalled the alarm that spread across the neighborhood not too long ago. Everyone on the streets scrambled to get inside, parents grabbed their children, and all the neighbors shut their windows and doors. I was home alone, as Ruby was at work. I watched the attack from our house’s one available window. There was always a small hope that maybe, just this once, the forcefield might deflect the full assault from the hyper-cannons—offensive orbital stations sent by our enemy. But they never do.

  I was as safe as I would ever be in our tiny residence. We had no underground shelter, and running outside would be suicide. The houses at least had heat shielding; their only protection. I saw on the news once that the area around the blast point could heat up by a hundred degrees. All I could do was wait at the window and hope that our block would be spared.

  Before it began, I watched one last strobe of the blue glimmer the forcefields give off, starting from the tower in the middle of the city and spreading outward. The forcefield we were under covered about the entire metro area, or the “super-dense zone,” of Chicago. Our neighborhood was in the outer-edge of the protective blue, where it was weaker. It was never strong enough to take a fifth blast from any hyper-cannon.

  The beams of light came from the darkened sky above, so bright that they resembled shooting stars in the distance. Sometimes I could gaze out of my window at night and see towns kilometers away being attacked.

  So very little was known about our enemy. We only knew that their intention was to progressively wipe out Earth’s population, but why and for what reasons was a mystery. They had a seemingly endless fleet with several types of spacecraft and weapons. Their most well known and deadly were the hyper-cannons that frequently orbited Earth, raining destruction on towns and cities all throughout the world. The Terra-Forces always reacted in time to save as many people as possible, but now their ability to protect anyone at all was seemingly diminishing.

  I had never actually gotten a good look at any of the alien craft. As far as I knew, no one had. We were only shown computer generated images of what they supposedly looked like on the news, sometimes with headlines like: “Terra-Forces push back the enemy in Luna Sector 2H!” or “Another victory for our army, alien menace held back from European regions!” The entire war was very convoluted, but few ever seemed to be bothered by it. All we needed to do was keep to the basic knowledge that a victory was good, and one day we’d win if we worked together and asked few questions.

  This was the second time my neighborhood had been attacked, the first being a mild strike four years ago. Something told me on the outset that this would be much, much worse.

  The first beam evaporated on the forcefield, causing a ripple effect. Then came the second, third, fourth, in rapid succession. When the fifth hit, I could see the forcefield thin out as it could no longer absorb energy. At that point, my neighborhood was defenseless.

  A pillar of light hit a block a few miles away, and plumes of flame, smoke, and dust arose from the area. Another beam, closer, and another. They were almost upon our house, each erupting in a bright flash that was followed by a loud, bursting sound. The closer the beams were, the more the ground shook and the brighter the light.

  It came so quickly, that there was no time to react. All I could recollect was that a blast hit the block across the street. Then I blacked out.

  “Vince? Can you hear me? Please, Vincent, help us find you!” I heard my sister yelling repeatedly. “Say something—shout!”

  It felt as if I were asleep, but I could hear everything, and was fully aware of what was happening around me. I didn’t know how long I was trapped, or what my condition was. All I could do was move my mouth, trying to mumble something. But no sound came out.

  “I found him, he’s alive! Put him with the others, hurry!” yelled a police unit, his voice muffled through his helmet.

  I felt the remaining debris being moved off, and then myself being picked up and put onto a stretcher. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t open my eyes, but I knew that I was still alive. I heard the moaning and pain of others around me, and I suddenly wanted my hearing to stop functioning as well. I already knew what victims looked like after those blasts—the ones closer to the impacts. They don’t censor anything on the networks.

  The next thing I remembered was the hospital bed. My eyes at first only saw the white light that broke through the darkness of a bandage. My hands clenched the bed I occupied, and I recalled, painfully, the first attack that came four years ago.

  We were both at our schools—Ruby in advanced, as our mother worked in the city. The alarm took us completely by surprise. The recent news cycle indicated that attacks on civilian masses were becoming more and more common, but we never expected one to strike here.

  We followed our teachers to the shelter under the building, mixing in with other frightened classes, and huddled together until the attack was over. I feared for my sister and mother through the duration of the assault.

  When we emerged, we could easily see the destruction that we had been left with. Seemingly as if chosen by random, blocks hit by the satellite were dotted all through the city. Emergency craft covered the skies for hours, trying to save as many people as possible.

  I didn’t see my sister until I got to the hospital, where I met her in a waiting crowd. She was crying and rushed up to hug me. She told me that our house had been destroyed, and that our mother was in the hospital—the building where she worked had been targeted, as well. I spoke to my mother one last time, but she didn’t last the night. She was one of hundreds of casualties, turned from someone we loved into a faceless statistic. The hospital was a miserable place that day, full of death and sadness.

  My sister, six years older, took over as my legal guardian. I figured our house would be rebuilt within a month, but we just moved elsewhere. Ruby had to work to support us as soon as she left school. Her dreams of going to a university to become a doctor were quickly forgotten when her job began: hard factory work in the industrial sector. She started working almost all day to provide food and shelter for the two of us.

  When I woke up I could see again, and I noticed that my burned hands were also bandaged. Both of my legs were broken, my right in more places than my left. I also had burns and cuts across my body, but otherwise, I felt surprisingly healthy and like I would on any other day. Ruby stood at my bed, giving me a small smile. But unlike most of the smiles I’ve seen in my lifetime, this one was real. Her last remaining family had pulled through. She wouldn’t be alone just yet.

  The hospital was still a horrible place, nearly unchanged from the previous time I was here. But on my last visit, it had still retained some of its cleanliness and compassionate atmosphere. Now, patients occupied almost every square inch of available room. Lost blood formed pools on the tiled floor, and the smell of death loomed in the air. The nurses and doctors always tried to keep some hope and tell their patients the best news possible, but it always seemed to be a burden for them. I was considered mildly injured, and I only stayed for two days before the doctors wanted me to return home and make room for more patients.

  The doctor explained, “He’ll be confined to a wheelchair for a few weeks until his left leg heals. Then he can use crutches to help him walk until the other leg recovers. I’m sorry we couldn’t give him any medical braces, but we only have a small reserved stock. His burns should be safe in a few days, the skin healthy in a couple weeks. Oh, and don’t have him look at any bright lights for a while. He’s lucky that he still has his sight.”

  “I understand, thank you for everything,” Ruby replied.

  He was about to say something else, but a nurse whisked him away. Sighing, he gave us a farewell wave and went off into an operating room. Ruby pushed me and we made our way out. We said nothing until we got to the car, parked with many others on the top of the adjacent garage.

  By this point, after all she had seen, I didn’t think she had any aspirations left to be a doctor.

  With a little assistance, I got into the back of the car and folded up my compact wheelchair, placing it next to me.

  “You’re brave, Vince. You must’ve endured so much pain. I’m… glad that you’re still here. Never leave me, okay? You’re all I have left.”

  I nodded and looked solemnly out the window. I hated to see people suffer or feel sorry for themselves. I hardly cared what happened to me. I’ve always thought like that; that I’m just one person. I can’t call my life more important than a thousand others.

  Outside and above the skyscrapers of Chicago, I could see the city’s forcefield, generated from the massive, central emerald imperial tower. It was much stronger than the suburban portion of the shield, because the inner city needed much more protection.

  One realization that had long existed in my head was that major city areas were almost never attacked… if not at all. My mother’s case was a rare exception. The problem was that living space would cost much more, and we simply could not afford it after our father died.

  Billboards and projected advertisement dotted the buildings. Smiling faces forced products like fancier clothes or furniture onto those on the streets below, oblivious to the miserable conditions of their lives.

  Chicago, a city of twelve million people, had only one forcefield. This meant that much of the population lived outside of any protection—and in the harmful, gradually dying environment.

  This was my reality. It’s all I’ve ever really known.

  “Ruby?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Vince?” she replied, powering up the car by placing her thumb on a fingerprint-scanning panel.

  “Do you think… that this war will ever be over?”

  “I don’t know… I just… I don’t know,” she sniffled. “I wish…”

  I breathed in. How would any of us know? I shouldn’t ask such questions. Ruby hardly ever cried, and it wasn’t my question alone that forced tears. It was a culmination of the sadness that had built up over time. She was the bravest person I had ever known. But everyone has a limit.

  “Where are we going to live now?” I continued reluctantly.

  “I guess that they’ll provide us with another house a few blocks from our old one… Just like… last time.”

  “I want to move. I don’t want to live in the city anymore. We should go to the country…”

  “Maybe we will… I’m saving up… Yeah, as soon as I get enough, we’ll move far from here. I don’t know where, but we’ll leave here. We’ll go somewhere where the attacks… are not as common, o-or severe…”

  After saying that, all the hope drained from her face and she rested her head on the steering wheel and cried. Ruby had always been strong in the past, able to put up with nearly anything with a smile on her face. But now, I could tell she was finally reaching a breaking point.

  I went back to looking out the window and remained silent until she sat back up and drove us to the city, where we would request a new home in some cold and sterile governmental office.

  No doubt there would be a long line.

  But living in the country? I had spoken without thinking. In some aspects, rural life was even worse. There were no atmospheric generators or forcefields. The climate was dangerous, the sun stronger, and the crime could be rampant. Even so, we could live freely, or at least free from the bonds of a Terra-Forcian controlled megalopolis. Thinking about it, they were actually doing little to serve us. Such a belief was perhaps just below treason. But they couldn’t read our minds yet. Thought was still legal.

  As we drove through the city, I looked around at the people that walked back and forth from their homes, to their jobs or to stores, just trying to exist. What were they living and striving for? An attack happens, and days later, they act as if it never occurred. The Empire will protect us, they assume, and they place all of their faith in the government.

  But what if that worldwide power had failed years ago? What if it no longer functioned as it was meant to? I couldn’t help but think—there must be a better life. Out there, somewhere.

  A band of blue streaked across the forcefield above. Water and food were rationed and carefully divided, but hope for the future was the one thing we all shared at the same time, and this commodity had recently become the rarest of them all.