Page 50 of Alien Barbarian's Little Human

Her head lolls to the side, eyes wide open and staring. I have lost a piece of my soul. The unbearable pain rips a primal scream from my throat. I only stop the screaming long enough to drag more air into my lungs before I begin keening again.

“I win again, Gog.”

That voice. I’ve never heard it before in my entire life, but I know it. I know it from forgotten nightmares of twisted flame. Slowly, I lift my head and see an Ataxian standing there. Half of his head is missing. I can see the exposed brain matter, yet somehow he still stands, still lives and speaks.

His eyes are mirrored, like metal. Cybernetics? Is that how he stands there while in such a physically ravaged state? It doesn’t matter. I only hope he kills me and ends my suffering. I do not wish to live without Chloe.

“I took a less direct approach this lifetime,” he says, even though I have not responded. “Instead of doing the deed myself, I have manipulated events to perfection. Not only will your progeny never be born, but your cursed kind are exterminated.”

“Your words make no sense. Kill me, or leave me to my grief.”

I turn and embrace Chloe’s body. It is still warm. If not for the blood on her face, she might almost be sleeping.

“No need to kill you. You are no threat, until you are reborn, Gog.”

“Again you call me by a name that is not my…own.”

Gog. Yes, I was Gog! It’s all coming back to me. Micah. My love was named Micah. And she had the same sky blue eyes as Chloe.

I rise to my feet, staring at the strangely half dead thing in shock.

“I see that you now comprehend who I am, and who you used to be. That is good. I enjoy the idea of your suffering right before the end.”

Screaming, I charge the monstrosity and tear it limb from limb, my violence fueled by rage and despair that knows no equal. Somehow, it’s still alive, even when the severed head rolls across the ground. The head looks up at me and smiles.

“I win again, Gog,” it says in a thin, reedy voice. “You may kill this body, but I will return in the next life. And I will slay your jalshagar again, and again, and again, throughout the eons, until the Galaxy itself grows cold and fades into darkness.”

I stomp on the head, squishing it to jelly. Then I return to my Chloe and hold her close.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I did not remember. I did not remember the first time we met, in another life. I’m so sorry.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as the ground rumbles. A massive fissure splits the ground a dozen paces away. Molten rock spews forth in a geyser, stretching up toward the heavens.

The Ishani homeworld is dying. No, it’s already dead. These are its death throes. I watch as the curtain of magma curls over like a breaking wave, descending toward me and Chloe. I make no move to escape.

“I will find you, my love,” I rasp as the magma descends. “I will find you in the next life, and this time I will not fail--”

The wave hits, searing away my skin. It only hurts for a moment, and then I surrender to the sweetness of oblivion.

BOOK III

CHAPTER 14

NERITA

They say war is Hell. If they’d even been to Horus IV, they’d know the truth.

Even Hell can’t be this bad.

The smell is what gets me the most. On a day like this, when there’s not a trace of wind, it just kind of festers in your nostrils. The stench of ash, the acrid tang of industrial waste, and pervading it al…the putrid sweetness of rotting bodies.

How long ago were these twisted, skeletal ruins a thriving city? Two weeks? Three? Has it been a month yet?

It’s impossible to tell. Standing here near the top of a twisting, half-melted relay tower, I can get a good sense of the landscape. But without access to the Holonet, or any kind of comms thanks to the Ataxian jamming satellites, I don’t even know what day it is.

Thrusting my hand into my pocket, I withdraw my next to useless compad. Without the holonet, it’s basically a big chunk of circuitry, but its most basic offline functions are still available.

I calibrate the pad to record my latest log. I don’t know if anyone will ever find this, or what they’ll think of it if they do. Maybe it’s my virtual gravestone. Hey, I was here, I existed. Andthen I died because of a war that no living being remembers starting.

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