Beneath Infinity

Onwards

The rain trickled down the rusted metal plating in streams, clean and pure against the worn brown walls. It was cold. The young man could feel it nipping, even through his new grey armour. He was unsure as to how he had come to wear it, about where it had appeared from. Understandably, he was unsure about everything that had happened so far. He simply followed the little Ghost back through the freighter, climbing over cases and ducking under hanging wires and beams that had become dislodged after the crash.

The crash.

He had been dead. Dead.

This he couldn't believe. How could he have been dead? And now he was back? He wasn't an idiot, it was obvious that the little Ghost had managed to resurrect him somehow, like it had said, but how was that possible? Technological advancement had been monumental after the Traveller had arrived. It had opened the human mind to wonders impossible and magnificent; advanced their culture by hundreds of years; tripled lifespans. Even then, there was no technology that could resurrect the dead. That was science fiction territory. Then again, as he looked at his surroundings more closely. The man was coming to terms with the fact that he had likely been dead for a very long time. The freighter had been clean and new when it crashed - it had never even sustained orbital flight before the emergency evacuation - and now it was a monumental heap of torn plating and crushed corridors, worn by what looked like decades of weathering.

Sensing his mind working to understand his situation, the Ghost nervously attempted to make conversation. She was fairly unsure as to what to say - this was an entirely new experience for her, speaking to one of her own revived, and it was daunting.

"So... Ehm, what's your name, Guardian?"

The man broke from his daze and began to follow her with his eyes.

"I... I'm honestly not too sure. I can't really remember."

"It'll likely come back to you in a few days, usually does," said the Ghost fairly nonchalantly.

"What do I call you?" The man asked.

The Ghost looked puzzled (or about as puzzled as a small floating polyhedral machine could).

"I'm a Ghost. That's what I am, I... I don't have a name. I have never needed one."

"Oh. Ok then. Are you the only one?"

"The only Ghost? Goodness, no. There are hundreds of us."

"So how do you tell the difference?"

"Most other Ghosts have Guardians. They are the people they interact with most frequently. Other Ghosts - like myself until very recently - had little contact with the Tower or the City or any other being for that matter due to the nature of our quest to find a Guardian."

"Right, ok. So now you've found your 'Guardian', what do we do?"

"We need to find a way back to the City and get you to the..."

The Ghost stopped short and reopened her motion scanners. She listened intently through the dripping of rain and the distant grumbling thunder. Something wasn't right. She had sensed the tiniest flicker of commotion in the darkness and knew what it was likely to be. She had been stupid and not quite fast enough.

"Stay quiet," she whispered to her Guardian who was obviously no idiot as he had frozen on the spot and was listening too. Scanning the room in all directions, the Ghost kept as calm as she could.

And then she saw it. The thing she had been dreading. Directly behind her newborn Guardian, the air rippled and twisted like heat waves frozen in time. The shapes curled up swiftly and sparked blue with lightning.

"DOWN!" She screamed as she blasted pure white torchlight into the sensitive eyes of the camouflaged Fallen, its arc knife poised at the rear of the young man's neck. The Guardian dropped and kicked behind him, knocking the screeching and now-visible Vandal onto its back. Rolling over, he slammed his fist down hard into the creature's gullet and recoiled in horror when its neck shattered from the force.

"What the fuck?" He exclaimed, shocked at his sudden strength and ferocity.

"Your armour and internal Light greatly amplify your strength and agility," explained the Ghost, quickly examining the body of the dead Vandal. "I was right; House of Huntsmen. Haste, Guardian. This way. More will not be far behind!"

The young man looked at the broken body of the Fallen beneath him, coming to terms with what it was he had done. He had acted instinctively, as if he knew, somehow, that this creature had deserved to die. It certainly felt evil, a murky black and deadly aura radiating from its corpse. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he turned and ran after the Ghost who had exited the ship through one of the many holes ripped in its carapace. Running to the improvised egress, the man stopped with sudden terror, reeling backwards with his arms flailing in an attempt to avoid tumbling the thirty-or-so feet to the ground below.

"Whoa... Hey!" He shouted at the little Ghost who had floated down to ground easily and was scanning the area. It turned to him and spoke. The guardian jumped when the voice rang loud inside his head, coming from what he could only assume was an earpiece in his helmet.

"Come now, surely a little drop doesn't intimidate you? You just slayed a Fallen Vandal, after all."

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean to do that," he answered, assuming she could hear him too. "Will I make this?"

"Yes, of course," the Ghost replied with an apathetic tone. "Like I said, you're stronger now."

"Aha, great." The Guardian looked down and chose his point of aim; a flat piece of ground a few feet from where the Ghost was whizzing around - her scanners working overtime. He looked straight ahead and allowed his feet to leave the platform together, launching himself into the open air. He gasped as the ground rushed towards him quickly, much faster than he had anticipated, and landed hard with a pathetic roll in an attempt to disperse some of the shock of landing. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he knelt for a few seconds, seeking to refill his tired body with oxygen.

"There, not so difficult, was it?" The ghost asked, not striving to hold back the mocking tone in her voice.

"Says you, you weren't dead this morning."

She reconsidered. "That is a fair point. I am sorry. I was only attempting to have a jest with you, I used to see the other Ghosts do it with their Guardians."

"How about we get away from the genocidal aliens before we get the banter flowing, eh?"

"Yes, let's do that." She waited for her Guardian to rise to his feet, still swelling with pride whenever she saw how capable and fierce he looked in his armour. "We shall go this way. I'm picking up some familiar frequencies nearby, hopefully it's a Guardian, or even another Ghost, who can help us get back to the city."

"Sounds good to me. Lead on."

They began heading swiftly East, away from the torched brown shell of the freighter, and towards the signal the Ghost was tracking.

"What is banter, Guardian?" Said the Ghost, an uncertain tone to her voice.

The young man laughed as he jogged along, causing the Ghost to turn to him, seemingly annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he said, noticing her irritation. "Banter is the word we used to use for 'a jest', as you call it. It was a colloquial British term."

"Ah, that makes sense," she said, satisfied.

The Guardian trudged on through the rain - as fast as his new legs could carry him - his little Ghost whistling along beside him, when a sudden thought came into his head and he stopped. The Ghost halted too.

"Jacob," he said with soft remembrance. "That's my name; Jacob Darrow."

"A fine name", said the Ghost, impressed with the speed at which his memories had returned. Humming with glee, she continued on, gesturing for her Guardian to do the same.

She was a very proud little machine.