Kyle West - Extinction

We ran up the stairwell, bursting onto the second landing. A few rooms down was an open door, flanked by two Praetorians. As we ran toward it, Augustus stepped into the hallway. He nodded toward the door, stepping back into the room.

We entered, finding Ashton lying, bloodied and bruised, in a hospital bed. He was wrapped head to toe in bandages. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. There was so little life in him — his pallor was deathly, and if he ever came awake, it definitely wouldn’t be as the same man.

He came alone aboard Orion,” Augustus said. “From what little I could get out of him, he had only survived because he was well on his way to the hangar. Other than that, he’s said nothing.”

Makara stepped up to the bedside, taking Ashton’s hand.

“Ashton. You there?”

There was no response. If it weren’t for his breathing, I wouldn’t have thought he was alive. It was unsettling to see Ashton, usually so full of life and spirit, without movement. This man, who had given me so much advice and wisdom, who had married me to Anna…

He was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Suddenly, Ashton’s hand tightened on Makara’s. Without opening his eyes, he rasped:

“It came from space,” he said. “Not Earth.”

“What came from space?” Makara asked.

I had no idea what Ashton was talking about. If he was talking about the xenovirus, about Ragnarok, then that much was obvious. From everyone’s faces, it seemed like they were thinking the same thing as I was.

Until I realized what he was talking about.

“He’s talking about Skyhome,” I said. “Whatever ended it came from space, not Earth. So it couldn’t have been the Radaskim…”

“No.”

It must have taken almost all of Ashton’s strength to make that emphatic answer. He was silent for a long, terrible moment, before he spoke again.

“They came from space. They… they attacked Skyhome.”

Ashton’s eyes opened, so thinly that it was like looking into slits.

“See…” he said, lips now trembling. “See for yourself. Look…look to the stars…”

With that, Ashton breathed his last, and went completely still. Every muscle went slack, and I felt desperation clench my chest. He couldn’t be dead. An emptiness permeated my soul — an emptiness that could only be caused when someone close to you was taken away, forever.

It was an emptiness I had grown to know too well.

“No…” Anna said.

This time, I knew Ashton really was dead. There was no denying that fact.

Makara squeezed the doctor’s hands, her arm shaking. She placed two fingers at the base of Ashton’s neck, as if to be sure. She waited for a long time. Then, her face softened, and she shook her head.

“He’s gone,” she said.

We all stood still, not knowing what to do next. After all the fighting, this was our first loss. It was amazing that everyone had made it this far. And it had come from something over which we had no control, something…

“What do you think was up there?” I asked.

Everyone looked at me, but didn’t answer.

“Let’s…let’s bury Ashton first, alright?” Makara asked, looking up. “Then we can talk about it.”

A tear had coursed down her face. She cleared her throat.

“Who will help me carry him?”

Everyone stepped forward, Augustus included, bearing Ashton’s weight from the room. As we walked down the steps of the stairwell, out into the lobby, and into the night-covered streets, I had no idea where we were going. We were carrying him back to the ship, but to go where?

After ten minutes of silence, disrupted only by the Praetorians marching around us, we made it back to Central Square. We carried Ashton on board the ship. Augustus followed us up, taking with him several of the Praetorians, while telling Maxillo to stay behind.

When the blast door shut, we just stood there. Julian went to get the gurney, which of late had been used more to carry the dead than the living. Once it was wheeled into the wardroom, we laid Ashton there.

“Ashton wanted to learn more about the Elekai Xenolith,” I said. “Maybe…maybe we should bring him there.”

“His memory could join the Elekai,” Anna said. “Maybe he can discover their secrets after all.”

Another thought entered my head: maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe the ichor of the lake could heal him.

I didn’t share that with anyone else, and I had no idea if anyone else was thinking it. It was a small hope, and probably pointless. Even if there was no way for that to happen, Ashton would be buried somewhere that had filled him with wonder.

It was the best we could do for him.

Once we landed, we made our way down to the ichor lake. Askal and a few of his dragons were there to greet us. We stopped along the shoreline, holding Ashton’s limp form, and it seemed Askal read our intent.

Can we save him?

No, Elekim, Askal thought. But his memory can join the Elekai. Bear him to the pool.

I sighed. “Askal says he can’t be saved. But his memory can join the Elekai, and he can live on that way.”

Maybe he would say hello to the Wanderer for me.

We walked forward until we stood in the pink ichor. Slowly, we lowered Ashton’s frail body into the lake.

We stepped away, watching him float toward the center of the cavern. In due time, he sank beneath the surface, his face placid and serene.

A weight lifted from my shoulders. I knew we had done the right thing.

“He said to look to the stars,” Samuel said. “He might have meant in the literal sense, to see what had ended Skyhome. But perhaps he was being metaphorical as well.”

“I just want to know what happened,” Anna said. “What destroyed Skyhome?”

I looked at Askal; the intensity of his eyes told me he had something to say.

What’s wrong, Askal?

They are here.

Who?

The second comers. Unforeseen. But I feel their hatred from above. They mean to end us before we can end them.

Who has come?

Askal’s mind went silent, for a long time, before he answered.

The Radaskim. Xenofall is here.

A chill passed over me. Quietus had said Xenofall wasn’t to come for another four hundred years. We still had time.

Didn’t we?

How have they come so soon? I asked, dreading the answer.

After Ragnarok, she kept some in reserve, dormant. Now, they sense their master’s need. Askala has called the rest of her children to Earth.

Everyone watched me, knowing from my whitened eyes that I was communicating with Askal.

“What is it?” Makara asked. “What’s he saying?”

“He’s saying the Radaskim ended Skyhome,” I said. “Not from Earth, but from space.”

“What do you mean?” Samuel asked.

“Askala…she kept some monsters somewhere in space, dormant. Close by, so when she was ready, she could call them down to deal the final blow.”

“So — what?” Makara asked. “We’re going to be fighting monsters from space, now?”

Apparently.

I turned back to Askal. How long?

Askal’s eyes burned into me, and from that gaze, I knew the answer.

They were already here.

We need you, Elekim, Askal said. Are you ready to accept your fate?

Until now, I wasn’t . I’d wanted to be me, at least for a little while longer. Perhaps I was Elekim in name, but I needed to fully accept my responsibility if the Elekai were to have a chance.