No Guardian, I

Part 15

Something shrieked from the control panel.

Jasker barely had time to react when the Fallen sprung to his feet, awkwardly, hands bound behind his back, and ran to the console. Alyona tried to tackle the Fallen, but he dodged her charge and continued on, pushing aside the Ghost with his upper shoulder and clamping his jaws around a non-descript lever.

The Skiff lurched, upwards, and did what was intended to be a barrel roll. Something exploded beneath them, when the vessel was about to pass the zenith of its trajectory, and the shock-wave slammed into its hull, throwing it off into a lengthwise spin that left the already falling passengers to bounce around the hold like so many peas in a tin can.

Jas hit something with his back, then the deck met his feet and propelled him again into the ceiling. His half-finished project, the modular burst-fire rifle that the Ghost had basically commissioned off him, shattered against a bulkhead. His multitool, that has lived through so much in the last weeks, was crushed by the bound Fallen - not by design, of course - and a final laser burst from the failing device severed the Eliksni's bonds along with one of his lower wrists.

Everything took no more than a few seconds, and was followed by several more spins and bounces that left them all winded, battered and bruised. Nobody even had time to cry out.

Somehow, miraculously, the Skiff stabilized, engine wailing in protest. The autopilot, apparently, disengaged when the Fallen pulled the lever, and the ship hung, lopsided, over the forest.

Jasker did not dare to move. He saw Glazok lying on the floor near the console, its shell pulled tight around the central orb as if it squeezed its eyes shut. Alyona cursed incessantly in Russian somewhere behind him, and the Fallen nursed its newly-acquired stump. Then the engine failed and the Skiff plummeted towards the ground.

It flattened the trees it fell on, splintering their trunks as if they were no more than weeds beneath a Titan's thread. Luckily for everyone inside, no splinters penetrated the hull.

Suddenly, everything went completely quiet. The noise and din of the last ten seconds still rang in Jasker's ears, but it was no more than a phantom, fast-fading sensation. He lay there, winded again by the impact, not feeling any of his body, and wondered if his ears had been damaged. The grated floor, though cold, seemed so soft and comfortable and bright...

He came to his senses in the shadow of the ship, outside. He was half-seated against the Skiff's hull, with his blanket carefully tucked around him, and a roll of cloth serving as a backrest. Immediately in front of him, Alyona was trying to fan up a small fire, with the Fallen setting down one of their supplies crates - dented and buckled - to her left. Glazok flew next to the Fallen, projecting arrangements of circles and lines onto the crate and chattering sotto voce.

The Ghost glanced at Jasker, flashed something to the Fallen and flew over to Alyona, nudging her gently. The Fallen settled the crate down and went back into the Skiff through a now angled man-hole. The Ghost floated to Jas.

"How are you feeling?" Glazok asked.

Jas concentrated on his answer. He felt odd. He felt good. Better, in fact, than he did in weeks.

"Like new, I guess. Weird. Did we not just fall out of the sky?"

"We did, didn't we? I thought you were dead," said Alyona. "You scared the crap out of me when you decided to stand up with a broken neck."

"Broken?.. What?"

"The thing that keeps your head attached to your body? Am I mispronouncing it, Glazok?"

"No, you're not."

"Thanks. As I was saying, I saw you lie there, staring at the floor with your head parallel to your shoulders. That's a broken neck, Jas. People just die when something like that happens. You... you started glowing... and your neck mended."

"Jas, not to alarm you, but what you did is technically impossible. You channeled the Light," said the Ghost, quietly. "Untrained, with no Ghost, you came back from the brink. No idea how you did that. My scan has not shown any Light capabilities in you when we met. Now, you're practically aglow."

"Am I... a Guardian now?" he managed.

"I do not know what you are. Guardians are supposed to be raised by Ghosts. You... revived yourself? Oh, the thanatonauts will not believe me. Not in a million years."

"Does this change anything?" asked Alyona. "Look, no offense, Glazok, but I don't see a big enough difference between you reviving me and him miraculously healing. The way I see it, this mystery can wait. At least until we get to safety. And that's a long way off, since we're not headed so much there as to a lock that Jas supposedly has the key to. We still haven't found the door, mind you. How far are we, anyway?"

"Twenty kilometers," answered the Ghost. "That way." It turned to indicate a direction. "But this is unprecedented."

"Yeah, yeah. Back in my day, the last guy who came back from the dead has been venerated for next to three thousand years. Now, it looks like resurrections are about as rare as poppies in a field," said Alyona. "Come on, help me with the fire if you're fit. Glazok, keep working your magic on our friend there. We need to know what he knows about this area, and a simple way of talking to him. Let's eat and finish setting up camp. We will leave tomorrow."

Jas rose, completely flabbergasted. He went, mechanically, through the motions of gathering wood the way Alyona told him - not too wet, so it wouldn't give off smoke, and preferably from thin, white and black trees with small leaves that have only begun to open up. He carried it back to their camp, not noticing the looks the Fallen kept throwing his way. He ate with Alyona and the Eliksni, barely registering the taste of the food. He wondered only briefly if the nutrient paste was suitable for the alien. But the Fallen - Yaltrik, was his name? - slurped the goo with apparent pleasure.

It wasn't right. He was nobody, an upstart weaponsmith with a penchant for innovation, nothing more. He could not have possibly channeled the Light. It didn't happen that way. Not to him. He was no hero.

He was no Guardian.

***

//file classified//

//clearance level obsidian//

//access granted//

++Guardian Report 1832497-Phi++

++Subject: Rangers++

++As per standing orders from the Vanguard, my fireteam has been escorting pilgrims on the Caspian Wastelands stretch of the Old Russia road. When we first encountered them, they were overwatched by a team of seven combatants, armed primarily with sniper rifles and other long-range weapons. They called themselves "Takanome's Rangers". Apparently, they were a part of a much larger force.

In the evening following the joining of our fireteam to the pilgrim train, the camp was attacked by Fallen. Combined, we took down three skiffs and their crews. We also witnessed something baffling to the extreme.

During the battle, one of the Rangers (the only one carrying close-quarters weaponry), sat down in cover and entered a meditative state. The Fallen in a fifty-meter radius from her position became confused, apparently forgetting what they had been doing in the past few minutes or seeing violent hallucinations. A Skiff had even begun firing on their own troops. Many were easy targets for us and the Rangers both. Later, Guardian Elsroth told me that she was using, unaided by a Ghost, the Light of the Traveler to blind her enemies.

She fell to a blast from a Skiff's turret that vaporised her before we could question her further.

I would like to commend the late Aloise Marlyn for her bravery. Her sacrifice has allowed that caravan to reach the City.++

++End Report++