Fall of Icarus (20 page)

           
This isn’t about me
, it yelled.
 
This is about survival, for both of us.
 
Are you truly so petty that you would be willing to let yourself die just to spite me?

           
Keryn shook her head again, her lungs burning badly enough that she still didn’t trust herself to speak.
 
Was she really just trying to spite the Voice?
 
Was her stubbornness really born out of a pettiness to be right?
 
Difficult answers slipped away as the pounding in her temples and behind her eyes worsened.

           
On the monitor before her, the red dots grew closer.
 
From the larger red dots of the Terran fighters, small missile launches were detected.
 
Keryn bit back the tears of frustration.
 
She had worked so hard to be separated from the Voice only to find herself in a position of helplessness, faced with the real choice of merging or dying.

           
They’ve launched
, the Voice screamed.
 
It’s now or never!
 
Merge with me!
 
Merge, damn you!

           
Tears slid from the corners of Keryn’s eyes.
 
“Yes,” she whispered.
 
Taking a deep breath, she screamed into the empty cockpit.
 
“Yes!”

           
The console before her blurred and twisted as the floor beneath her pitched wildly.
 
Keryn focused on a single star, glowing in the far distance.
 
Slowly, the white light of the star grew, expanding until it filled her vision.
 
The brilliant, blinding white light of the star passed into the cockpit before washing over Keryn and washing away her consciousness.

           
All around Keryn, the world was a dusty brown rock quarry.
 
Narrow fissures split the rock beneath her feet into tall spires of isolated stone, cutting like open sores over the landscape as far as she could see.
 
Between the towers, the fissures dropped away into dark nothingness.
 
Having been enveloped moments before by the imminent impact siren of the radar and the blaring warning claxon, the world in which Keryn found herself was a stark contrast.
 
The silence was deafening.
 
Her ragged breath sounded like a charging train as it passed her ears.

           
Turning in place, Keryn found herself utterly alone.
 
The world didn’t curve slightly away on the horizon.
 
The new world was flat and infinite, leaving only a blurred line where the split landscape met the dull tan of the midday sky.
 
No rock formation broke the monotony of the landscape, save the narrow fissures that dropped implausibly deep into the core of the alien world.

           
“Hello?” Keryn yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.
 
The words fell from her lips, swollen with the dense air, and carried barely any distance from her before dissipating away into silence.
 
No echo rolled back to her ears, nor was
there
a sound of other life on the desolate plain.

           
Frustrated, Keryn began walking in a random direction.
 
She found that it didn’t matter which way she walked.
 
There were no identifying markers that told her north from south or east from west.
 
At first, her steps were slow and cautious, moving carefully from one stone spire to another, though the fissures were much too small for her to fall through.
 
Slowly, though, she began picking up her pace as panic settled into her awareness.
 
There was nothing to be found in this world.
 
No person to whom she could talk and ask questions.
 
No distinct markings that explained why she was here.
 
She only remembered giving into the Voice and then finding herself here in the broken desert.
 
Keryn feared that she had been right all along; that merging with the Voice stole your own personality and replaced it with one of the Voice’s devising.
 
Unable to accept such defeat, Keryn began running, searching wildly for a way to escape the desert and retract her decision to merge.

           
“I was wrong,” Keryn yelled as she ran, her lungs once again burning for air.
 
“I don’t want this!”

           
Her quick run became a sprint, her feet kicking up clouds of acrid brown dust behind her.
 
Sweat beaded on her brow but quickly evaporated in the dry, stagnant air.
 
Tears were already burning in her eyes as Keryn was overwhelmed with fear and anger.

           
“Take it back!
 
I made a mistake!”

           
Keryn’s foot caught on a protruding rock spire and the pitched forward, catching herself with her hands.
 
She slid to a stop on the stone, her knees skinned and her palms bruised from her fall.
 
She let her head hang down, her hair cascading over her face, as she sobbed quietly.

           
“I didn’t want this,” Keryn whispered between her large tears.

           
You did want this
,
Keryn
, an androgynous voice said from beside her.
 
Startled, Keryn jerked to the side.
 
Trying to put her hand down for support, the bruised and bloodied palm gave way and she pitched onto her back.
 
Keryn squinted to see the person standing above her.

           
You asked for us to come, and we answered your call
.
 
Keryn stared up at her own face.
 
Above her, a perfect replica of herself stood, her silver hair sparkling even in the meager sunlight on the brown world.
 
A gentle and caring smile was cast upon the doppelganger’s lips and she batted her eyes with a seemingly infinite patience.
 
Keryn knew the doppelganger; had seen it before.
 
During her time at the Academy, the replica had appeared to Keryn in a dream.
 
Now, however, the dream had found a physical form.
 
When it spoke, it sounded neither male nor female, but speaking instead with either masculine femininity or effeminate masculinity.
 
The doppelganger reached out her hand to help Keryn to her feet.

           
Scowling, her mind still reeling from her double’s sudden appearance, Keryn batted aside the outstretched hand and pushed herself to her feet unaided.
 
The warm, welcoming smile of the doppelganger never faded as she stood calmly by and let Keryn regain her thoughts.

           
“If you’re who I think you are, then I don’t want your help.
 
I made a mistake.”

           
And just who do you think we are?

           
Keryn arched an eyebrow toward her double.
 
Something tugged at Keryn’s consciousness, just beyond the realm of her understanding.
 
“You’re the Voice.”

           
Yes, we are.

           
It was then that Keryn realized what had struck her as unusual about the doppelganger; what set it apart from the similar vision in her dream during her time at the Academy.
 
It wasn’t that the Voice sounded androgynous.
 
Instead, Keryn realized, it spoke as though a hundred individual male and female voices were overlapping, drowning out any individual inflection until all that remained was a droning tone that was neither male nor female.

           
“We?” Keryn asked nervously.

           
Still smiling its infallible smile, the Voice gestured behind itself.
 
Stepping one step to the side, Keryn was stunned to see a line of more than a hundred Wyndgaarts queued behind her doppelganger.
 
They all smiled the same cordial smile.
 
Keryn recognized her mother and father standing in line behind her replica as well as her grandparents behind that.
 
Familiarity, either from personal interactions or through apparent physical family similarities – living and dead - stretched back as far as Keryn could follow until, near the end of the line, she was unable to make out more than the general shape of the Wyndgaarts.

           
“What is this?” Keryn whispered in disbelief.

           
The genetic memory of all your ancestors
, the Wyndgaart all replied at once.
 
Every one of your ancestors who ever merged with the Voice is immortalized within you.

           
Disoriented after watching over one hundred Wyndgaart all speaking simultaneously, Keryn stepped back in front of her doppelganger.
 
To her amazement, the rest of the Wyndgaart disappeared behind her double as though they never existed.

           
We understand that you weren’t ready for us when your friends all went through the Ritual of Initiation.
 
You only called out to us when placed in a position of utter helplessness, when there was no one left to turn to.
 
We have answered your call.

           
Keryn shivered despite the warmth in the air.
 
“I don’t think I can do this,” she said weakly.

           
You face death without us.
 
We came to you only when you were ready, in your heart, to merge with us.
 
There is no turning back now.

           
Tears welled in Keryn’s eyes and spilled unabated down her cheeks.
 
Turning her head aside, she tried to focus on anything else in the desolate, rocky plain.
 
She had turned to the Voice in desperation and, as she knew it would be, the Voice had been there to answer her call.
 
Regardless of whether or not she now thought it was a mistake, she had set in motion events that could no longer be stopped.
 
Keryn was now left with little choice than to accept her new fate.

           
Taking a deep breath and feeling slightly more resolved, Keryn turned back to her doppelganger and wiped away the streaking tears on her face.
 
She asked the only question that she thought mattered now.

           
“Will it hurt?”

           
No, it won’t.
 
Nor will we ever let anything else hurt you again.

           
The doppelganger lunged forward, its arms extended toward Keryn’s abdomen.
 
Instinctively, Keryn tried to move backward, out of the Voice’s reach, but the doppelganger lifted into the air and flew at her.
 
As its outstretched arms touched Keryn’s skin, they passed into her as though her body were insubstantial.

           
Keryn’s breath caught in her throat as the arms, head and shoulders of the doppelganger disappeared into her body.
 
Still moving forward, her double slid deeper inside of her.
 
Keryn could feel
a warmth
spreading through her torso and limbs as the legs finally slid into her body and the doppelganger passed completely within Keryn.
 
Gasping, Keryn looked up to see the entire line of Wyndgaart moving toward her.
 
One at a time, they passed into her body, the line speeding forward until the individual bodies became little more than blurs as they slammed into her exposed torso.
 
Tilting her head backward, Keryn screamed as the never-ending line continued.

           
The scream subsided as Keryn sat upright in the pilot’s chair of the
Cair Ilmun
.
 
Less than a second had passed since she had muttered an acceptance to the Voice’s insistence.
 
The missiles from the Terran fighters still advanced, the radar still blaring its imminent impact warning.
 
Stretching slightly, like a feral tiger would once finally released from its cage, Keryn let her hands close over the ship’s controls.