That Spark of Life

Adrift in the dark. My vessel and I were twin souls. Aimless, without cares or wants or purpose. I let it float in the black void of space and sat almost catatonic at its helm.

Most of my days were spent like this. I brooded, and I waited. I brooded over what I had lost, that most precious resource in all the galaxy. And I waited. Waited for my chance to avenge that loss, to find some justice for what had been done.

My dash lit up with blue light. It made me flinch, even after all this time it reminded me of the blue fire called down onto Karth. One did not forget the sight of an entire city being razed from orbit. Especially not when one had had a loved one in that city.

“Alanta,” I whispered.

I had lost her that day. There’d been an uprising, rebel cells had taken Karth. It was the first major city any dissident faction across the stars had managed to wrest away from the empire. Yet within an hour of its capture the emperor had simply ordered it razed to the ground.

They’d been fools and my Alanta had paid the price, I thought.

My Alanta was a bit presumptuous. I always chastised myself for thinking of her in those terms but I couldn’t help myself. She and I hadn’t known each other for very long, only a few months in truth, yet those had been the happiest months of my life.

Before Alanta I’d had few hopes or dreams or expectations. I’d found it hard to care about much of anything. My parents had said I’d been the same as a child. Quiet, apathetic and slightly melancholic. I think my demeanor had been shaped by the first time I’d seen a space faring vessel ascend into the stars. I’d asked my father where it was going.

“Into the great beyond,” he’d said. “Into space.”

“Space?” I’d asked, and he’d pointed up at the night sky.

That’d startled me, I hadn’t known that blackness above me was something one could visit. As soon as we’d gotten home I’d gone online to investigate this space. I distinctly remembered a spark within me guttering out, as I’d learned more and more about that vast void. The greater the universe became, the smaller my world had seemed.

That’s why Alanta had meant so much to me. It was unfair and unhealthy I knew to put so much on someone, to depend on a person entirely for one’s own happiness, but I hadn’t cared. Her quick wit, her smile, even her less than admirable qualities like her tendency to let her passion override her compassion, all of these things had endeared her to me. She hadn’t been like me, she’d looked at the vastness that surrounded us all and saw endless opportunity. She’d dreamed, and dreamed big. She’d desired a collection of rare art to rival the emperor’s own, she’d imagined a galaxy free of imperial control, she’d wanted to visit the legendary planet Vorgethi that was said to orbit a neutron star. While with her, that spark within me had returned. It hadn’t been a raging fire by any means, but every moment with her had felt like a gentle, revitalizing breath on that flame.

It had been snuffed out again four years ago abruptly, and violently. She’d asked me to visit another city that day to procure an art piece that was going up for auction. I’d done so and had returned just in time to see the blue fire as it rained down from the sky.

For a time I blamed the empire. Now I mostly blamed the rebels. I knew the empire was evil, I wasn’t blind to that, but if the rebels hadn’t taken the city then she wouldn’t have died. It was as simple as that. That was why I hunted. I hunted for the rebel leader who’d orchestrated the takeover of Karth. The bastard had somehow survived that debacle. I sat up straighter, leaned forward to get a better look at what was being displayed on my dash.

There he was, his image floated before me. Andar Kree. Four years of searching and I finally had him. I’d known he was on Gerrix, and my system had flagged a sighting of him in the city that shared the planet’s name. I’d had my vessel monitoring every camera on planet for him. Getting access to those cameras had been an arduous, expensive process, but it had all been worth it. I input Gerrix’s coordinates and was set to touch down on the planet’s surface in a little over an hour. Once I did my hunt would begin in earnest.

I glanced at the art piece Alanta had asked me to procure, it was the only thing that adorned my vessel’s walls. The piece was a painting of Karth when it’d been a newly freed city, before imperial control, depicting the city’s namesake proclaiming the city free from the warlord that’d ruled it the day before. White towers were juxtaposed by black smoke in the background. Karth’s freedom from that warlord had come at terrible cost, so the story went. Admittedly it was a beautiful piece. I often wished my love had been able to see it.

* * *

Upon the planet’s surface now I strode through the city’s streets. The camera that had flagged Andar had caught him entering a funeral home. I’d donned all black clothes so it seemed I was in mourning and using grief as a guise, I planned on walking right into the building.

I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes alighting on a woman. I could only see half her face but what I saw made my heart race.

It can’t be, I thought.

It wasn’t. She turned a moment later and I saw her entire face. I turned too, embarrassed, making my way quickly down an alley in the opposite direction.

This often happened. I saw Alanta’s face everywhere, it was maddening. I exhaled a long breath and refocused on the task at hand.

I arrived at the funeral home several minutes later. It was a large, dreary building. Once inside a greeter ushered me into an equally dreary waiting room. I looked around. The only other people I saw were a pair of men wearing matching uniforms and odd black masks. An unmasked, middle aged man with graying sideburns approached me moments later with a bright smile.

“Welcome good sir, may I be of assistance today?” He asked.

“You may. I’m looking to put my grandfather to rest,” I lied. The man bowed his head.

“My deepest condolences for your loss. My name is Pavlo. Please, follow me to my office so we may discuss how to best honor your beloved grandfather.”

I grunted my assent and followed him through the halls. I took note of everything we passed. Paintings, a flight of stairs, more of the masked men and women. The masks were black, and all portrayed different expressions. Some resembled faces in the throes of euphoria, others displayed black rage, no two seemed to be exactly alike.

“Why do the men and women working here wear masks?” I asked Pavlo, as I took a seat opposite him in his office.

“Ah I see you aren’t from here, mister…” He trailed off, expecting me to give my name. I remained silent. He cleared his throat.

“Well, the masks, they are worn at funeral services and often by those who work close with death here on Gerrix.”

Which makes this place the perfect front, I realized. And if this is a front, that means everyone here is a rebel. Including this man.

“Why don’t you wear a mask?”

“Some of us, such as myself and our greeter for example, wear them only rarely since it is our duty to interact with customers most often.”

“Ah,” was all I said in response. After an awkward silence, Pavlo continued.

“So sir, how may we help you? Were you looking for burial services?” He asked. I looked around the room, confirming we were alone and noting anything that could be used as a potential weapon.

“Do you provide cremation services?”

“Absolutely good sir! Our cremation chamber is located directly below me, in fact. Allow me—”

“Do you do cities too?” I asked, focusing my gaze back onto him. He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you capable of burning an entire city down? One approximately the size of, say, the city of Karth?”

There was a heartbeat of silence. A heartbeat where we both remained frozen in our chairs. Then both he and I exploded out of our seats. Pavlo tried to jerk back but my hand snaked forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Before he even had a chance to shout I yanked him forward so his head slammed down onto his desk. I pulled my sidearm out and pressed it to his neck.

“You scream, you die,” I said. “Where is Kree?”

“I don’t know,” the man gasped. “I swear I—” I primed my weapon. That unmistakable buzz made Pavlo whimper. “Top floor, that's usually where he is I swear.” He swallowed. “Are you imperial?”

“No,” I answered. “Only a victim of your pointless struggle against the empire. A loved one of mine died in Karth because of you. My Alanta.”

The rage that always smoldered within me flared up then. Pavlo’s eyes had gone wide. He licked his lips.

“Wait, are you—”

I didn’t wait. Instead I fired. Pavlo’s body went limp. He was only stunned, I’d yet to kill anyone in this personal crusade of mine and I didn’t plan on starting today if I could help it.

I sucked in a deep breath, exhaled it. This was as far ahead as I’d thought, everything else I did here today would be improvisation. Fortunately, Pavlo had given me an idea.

After checking to make sure the hall was empty I slipped out of the room and hurried to the flight of stairs I’d seen. As soon as I made it to the bottom floor I heard footsteps. Somewhat frantic I looked around, then ducked into a side room. Once the footsteps faded I exhaled a held breath and continued my journey until I made it to the cremation chamber. It was empty, and fearing it wouldn’t stay that way for long, I got to work. My plan was simple. This entire building was crawling with rebels. If I wanted to reach Kree I would need a distraction, and a damn good one.

Fire frightened me. If the blue light of my vessel’s dash made me flinch, real fire, no matter the color, made my heart race. It was racing now, as the heat of the flames I’d just brought to life washed over me. I ran from the chamber and looking behind me saw it was already spreading, and fast.

“Fire!” I yelled at the first masked rebel I found. “Fire on the lower level!” My shouts drew others. “Someone collect Pavlo from his office! I’ll warn everyone else!”

Before anyone could gainsay me I was sprinting past them all and up the stairs. I shouted my warning on every level until I reached the top floor. There was a lot of noise coming from below now, and a lot of activity up here. The dread news of fire had preceded me. Masked and unmasked men and women ran everywhere. My eyes flicked from face to face, one hand resting on the sidearm I held under my cloak.

Where are you bastard, where—

There. It’d taken some time but I finally found him at the end of a hall. He was directing people, three masked rebels loomed behind him. Seeing him was like seeing an old lover, it froze me in place, made my breaths quicken and heart pound, yet there was one stark difference. Seeing him in the flesh finally and for the first time, brought forth my rage. I bulled my way through the crowd towards him. As I drew closer I was able to make out what he was shouting.

“—already evacuated! Everyone on this floor is to head to the shuttle on the roof!”

“Kree!” I barked. Heads turned. I raised my weapon and fired.

Andar, having the survival instincts of a cockroach, threw himself to the ground. One of his guards took the stunner hit instead and crumpled to the ground. People screamed and scattered. One attacked me, knocking the sidearm out of my hand. We grappled, and as we grappled I heard a creaking sound. I risked a glance behind me and saw fire and smoke roaring up the stairs. The flames had spread faster than I would’ve believed. My opponent used my brief distraction to knee me in the groin. I groaned, crumpled, and the man staggered away, coughing.

“Come on!” Someone shouted. “Leave him, we have to go!”

I found my feet seconds later and chased after them. There was no one else in the hall, just myself, my quarry ahead of me, and the fire behind us all. Fear of those flames moved me as much as my desire to catch Andar. I’d never have this opportunity again, I was sure of that.

A figure stood in the hall before me. Squinting through the smoke I saw it was one of the masked guards. He stood alone, barring my path. As I drew closer I saw the flames behind me reflected in his polished mask. This one displayed a face twisted in grief and desperate longing.

Does he wear a mask, or a mirror? A part of me mused.

“Move aside,” I growled.

“Not a chance,” he answered, voice muffled by the mask and the noise of a building being consumed.

Snarling I launched myself at him. I feinted left then threw a jab with my right hand. My foe sidestepped it and shot out a jab of his own, striking me in the chest. I stumbled, barely managed to raise an arm in time to block a right hook. The man’s boot snapped out, connecting with my shin and I grunted, leg shaking as it threatened to collapse from under me. I kept my feet somehow and slammed my head into my opponent's masked face. He reeled away and, screaming in pain and fear of the fire around us, I charged. I slammed into him, heard glass shatter and found myself suddenly in the air. I swore I hovered for the briefest moment before gravity asserted its claim on me. Howling all the while I plummeted to the ground and to what I assumed was my end.

An end, finally. Let this be my end.

Yet it was not to be. There was a splash and the world around me became muffled as I sank into deep, cold water. It took all my remaining energy to swim to the surface where I gasped in ragged breaths of air.

I’d landed in a fountain. I marveled at my luck as I stared at the burning building I’d been inside mere moments before. I watched as a shuttle lifted off its crumbling roof and sped away, and I knew Andar was lost to me.

There were more splashing sounds behind me. I turned. The masked rebel had landed in the fountain as well, it would seem. He was crawling out of it, and I hurried to do the same.

Outside the fountain now we stood a few meters apart from one another, both soaked, both breathing hard and both using the lip of the fountain to hold ourselves upright.

Without the smoke obscuring my view any longer I saw the man I’d been fighting was actually a woman. As I processed that realization, she did something wholly unexpected. She said my name.

“Hip?” She asked.

Hip. Only my parents called me that, I thought, mouth going dry. No, no that’s not true. One other person called me by that name.

She took off her mask. I sucked in a breath and held it, not daring to breathe. I was sure my eyes and mind were playing the same trick on me that they’d played a thousand, thousand times.

“Hip. It really is you,” Alanta breathed. “It’s me. It’s Alanta.”

My knees buckled and I fell onto them, Alanta limped over to me. Such was the love that we had for one another that all thoughts of hostility evaporated. She plopped down onto her own knees and touched my face as if to confirm I was real. I couldn’t move, I could hardly think.

“How are you here?” She asked as she stared into my eyes, disbelief writ all over her face. “No, I’m sorry I— You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You’re probably wondering how it is I’m here, I should go first.”

She launched into a story then. One that revealed she’d been a part of the rebellion since she was nine years old, and that she’d been instrumental in the takeover of Karth. She told me of how she’d sent me away that day fearing potential imperial reprisal, of how she’d decided I was better off believing she was dead since her line of work made relationships next to impossible. I found it hard to focus on everything she was saying, my head and heart both ached and a part of me refused to believe the apparition before me was truly her. I just stared, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

My expression must have resembled confusion because she cocked her head in that sardonic way I remembered and smiled. That smile extinguished the anger that’d been smoldering within me for four long years, and for a second time, sparked that indescribable thing that drove a human soul to endure.

“What's wrong?” She teased, brandishing that crooked, lovely smile. “Don’t you remember me?”