Demons - Part I

    Region: Devoid  

Location: Thakala II 

Date: YC 110

10 years ago

A hazy blackness slowly gave way to form and color as Sahriah returned to consciousness. Her eyes flickered open, the shapes above her blurry and unfocused as she stared at the ceiling, trying to recall the last few images in her mind. Her body felt stiff and weak; there was a dull ache at the back of her skull and her right side pulsed with pain as she tried to move. Probably the result, she gathered, of whatever impact had put her in her current state.

She followed the soft golden curves that ran across the roof of the darkened room, realizing she must be on an Amarrian station or ship of some kind. Stretching her arm out slowly, she ran her hand across the top of the bed. It was soft; not the thin, harsh sheets of a medical facility, but silky and warm, a proper bed. Slipping her hand underneath the covers, she felt across her body next, searching for the source of the pain. Whoever had placed her here had left the underclothes of her uniform on, but her midriff was wrapped with a coarse fabric, likely a gauze bandage of some kind. 

Turning her head to the side, she shifted her elbow to provide support as she tried to turn her body, sending a few sharp slivers of pain down her side. Her movement stirred a figure nearby, and she felt the bed compress as it came to her side. A cool hand ran over her forehead as the figure spoke. A soft familiar voice. 

“Wake up Sahriah” his words were a light whisper, spoken in a tenderness that brought an immediate warmth to her chest. Her lips curled into a weak smile as she moved her hand to his knee, trying to pull herself up. 

 “Jacob...” 

 “No no, slowly – there’s no need to rush.” he added, his arm moving instinctively to support her frame as he reached for the glass of water he had placed by her bedside. “Here, drink this.” 

Ignoring the water, she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his neck and wincing slightly as her muscles compressed around the partially healed wound on her waist. She whispered into his ear with audible relief “You’re alive!” 

Despite being commissioned Capsuleers for a year now, real combat was still a relatively new experience for them both. Before they had joined CRMSN, her and Jacob had been running security for a small group of miners based out of the Josameto system some four regions away in Caldari territory, shooting at rogue pirates and other annoying, but ultimately irrelevant scum. Now, under the watchful tutelage of their new commander, Tigerfish Torpedo, they were mercenaries, being trained in how real Capsuleer warfare was conducted; something the State War Academy had ill prepared them for. The trivial conflicts of baseliners were one thing; they were like ants to her now, barely worth the effort it took to dispatch them. But a full-scale conflict against opponents that returned and adapted after every death; that was a whole nother type of combat. The process of death and rebirth was violent, and despite knowing their clones provided them with near immortality, there was still a primal fear of death that encroached on the psyche in the moments it was near. 

Images of the battle were returning to her now. Jacob’s Rokh-class battleship had been pinned down by war targets on the Hati stargate in the Uadelah system as he was returning to The Crimson Federation’s primary staging point in Thakala. He had sought to avoid the traditional route through Riavayed, but they’d predicted that movement and his resulting distress signal to the rest of the Alliance had brought her and several other Capsuleers to his aid. She was still missing time though, the impact to her head must have been harder than she thought. 

She embraced him a little tighter, resting her head against him; feeling his body close to hers, his hand around her back. The soft caress of his thumb against her bare skin brought her a sense of security and reassurance only he could provide. After a time, she opened her eyes and shifted her chin over his shoulder, taking in the rest of the room. 

The layout was familiar, they were captains’ quarters of a standard Amarrian design, probably a cruiser class vessel she gathered from the size. The room was elegantly decorated, almost everything themed a deep crimson, complimenting the golden architecture of the Amarrian vessel. Artifacts of expensive taste added to the décor, many of them she recognized as Sani Sabik in origin. This wasn’t one of her ships, or Jacob’s she realized. It was Tiger’s. 

She pulled back from him, about to question him on why she was on this ship, in this room, when she caught sight of the data pad sitting on the table behind them. It occurred to her that she couldn't remember the end of the battle, and the fact that she was here obviously indicated it had gone poorly. 

Clutching Jacob’s shoulder, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, rising and making her way over to the table, not bothering to search for additional clothing in the warm room; they had been around each other long enough that her current state of dress wouldn't faze either of them. Tapping the data pad, she realized it was locked.

“Do you know where my crew is?” the escape pods would have been recovered and the survivors likely returned to Thakala she thought, but she was unaware how much time had passed. After a moment of silence with no response she turned around to face him, noting he had not followed her to the table. “Jacob?" she prompted again. "Have you seen Zac?” 

Attempting to hold his composure, he stared at the floor. “Sahriah…I.” she realized he was holding back tears, only now taking note of his somber appearance. “…I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I should have taken a different route.” 

She frowned at him, concern beginning to well in her stomach and touch her voice “Jacob?” 

He stood and moved over to the table. Standing behind her, he reached down over her shoulder and tapped the data pad to unlock it; the pad Tiger had given him to show her. She looked down at it as the names began to scroll across the screen, a list of all the crew from the ‘Spectre’, the thorax-class cruiser she had taken to the battle. A bolded red typeface overlaid the bottom of each portrait – DECEASED. 

She stared at it for a long moment, taking in the sheer amount of people who had perished with its destruction, the number far outweighing the usual survival rates for the hull class. She tapped the pad in several places and the screen transitioned to a shortened list of ‘Spectre’s’ bridge crew. One name was already highlighted, immediately drawing her eye as she picked out the letters of her first officer’s name one by one. ZAC. Jacob watched as her face showed recognition, his hand instinctively moving to her shoulder to provide comfort “He didn’t make it, I’m sorry.” 

Sahriah sat unmoving for several moments, shock paralyzing her. Zac had been with her since she graduated from the State War Academy. Even as a baseliner, he was the closest thing she had to a friend after Jacob himself. He had survived several ship destructions with her before; the bridge crew always had ample access to escape pods. Now he was gone? How? She racked her brain trying to remember the final moments on her ship, but the memories refused to come. 

Slowly, the numbness in her body faded, being replaced by the first pangs of grief and anger. For a split second she blamed him. Had Jacob been stupid enough not to scout his gates traveling in something as slow as a battleship? The hand he had placed on her shoulder for comfort suddenly felt intrusive and she had to stop herself from shrugging him off. She knew he harbored the blame for this, it was the kind of man he was. 

“It wasn’t your fault; they knew what they signed up for.” she tried to conjure a confident tone, but the words were half-hearted and cold. Feeling a wave of emotion welling up inside her, she stood, moving back over towards the bed, creating some distance between them and hiding her face as she located the fresh set of clothes that had been set out for her. Using the task to give her somewhere to focus she slowly got dressed before taking a deep breath and finally turning to him again. “I need to check on what remains of my crew.” 

Picking up the data pad, she wiped away the tears that had started to form in her eyes. She couldn’t afford to be emotional here lest she take her anger out on him. 

Leaving Jacob alone in Tiger’s quarters, she walked into the corridor, navigating herself towards the medical bay, or that’s at least where she had intended to go. She instead found herself at a large set of cargo bay doors. Keying in a CRMSN access code, the doors slid open to reveal the ships hanger. Approaching the only shuttle, her hands slid along its smooth surface until she reached the door. Tiger would ensure what remained of her crew was safe. She needed time alone. 

Looking down at the navigational controls she realized they were already in Thakala, docked inside one of the X-Sense stations aboard Tiger's Zealot-class assault cruiser. Keying in a destination, the shuttle started it’s undock procedure and was soon on its way to the only inhabitable planet in the system – Thakala II. She had to get out of this metal coffin and feel real ground beneath her feet. 

 *** 

The beach was quiet and calm. A cool breeze coaxed the waves up onto the sand, the water lapping up over her boots and soaking the bottom of her pants as she crouched at the water's edge in a state of despair and anger. Her hand scooped up the wet sand, building small barriers against the water. Each time a new wave approached, the little sand wall would collapse, washed away as the liquid was sucked back into the sea.

Zac had always loved the ground, much more so than being in space. She had once asked him why he had chosen to serve Capsuleers, knowing the ever present danger that surrounded them and the rarity in which many baseliners even survived long enough to return home. Being the talented conversationalist he was, he had expertly avoided answering the question. 

Though she often watched them from space, it had been almost a year since Sahriah had stepped foot on a planet herself. Although Zac had asked her to join him on several occasions, she had always refused. There was always work to do, especially in CRMSN. Lord Torpedo expected much from his pilots and the Caldari blood in her was hardcoded to put duty before pleasure. Zac had never argued of course, stating there would ‘always be a next time’, but she had always sensed his disappointment. Now she would never get that chance. 

She had gone over the combat logs uploaded by the other CRMSN pilots three times now, wondering what she could have done to prevent Spectre’s loss. She could have taken the ship back towards the stargate, but doubted it would have survived long enough to wait out the aggression timers built into the gates system. Retreating any earlier and Jacob’s battleship might have succumbed to the damage she had been able to peel off him with her presence, causing the deaths of many more people than what had been sacrificed by her cruiser. She was scanning through the data a fourth time now; unwilling to admit there may not have been a way to save him.

Completely engrossed in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the sound of a second shuttle flying overhead until the dying sound of the engine left a void in the ambience of the beach, finally snapping her out of her reverie. 

As she looked up, she noticed the shuttle had landed close to her own, in a grassy clearing some 100 meters from the sand. She could see a figure approaching and was immediately annoyed at the thought that Jacob would follow her down here. He knew she preferred to be alone to think after a poor engagement. 

Standing, she squinted her eyes against the glare of the overcast sky. It was a man, but not Jacob; he was taller, with a stockier build and darker hair. He moved slowly, almost stalking his way towards her the way a predator might approach its prey. She could tell he was muttering something, though was unable to make out the words. 

As he made his way onto the sand, Sahriah watched as he suddenly dropped to his knees, screaming out something unintelligible and flailing his arm out as if trying to hit some invisible foe. Alarmed, she frowned and started to walk towards him. He was still crouched in the sand as she neared, his back to her, clutching his head with his hands and yelling to himself. 

“Shut up!” he growled, his voice finally registering. She would have recognized it anywhere. 

Finally noticing her presence, he struggled to his feet, turning around to face her. Cold beads of sweat ran down his neck and his eyes were wild. She had seen him angry before, but nothing like what she saw in him now. Concerned and a little frightened, she opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the full force of Tiger’s body as his hand wrapped around her throat, throwing her backwards onto the sand; knocking the wind from her lungs and sending a shooting pain through her side. 

Sinking to his knees on top of her, he pinned her down between his legs, lowering his face to hers. “Why? Why did you come here?” he growled, his voice a threatening whisper; he spun around again, as if looking for someone else. “Shut up, for god’s sake! Stop hounding me!” He drew his blade, waving it around blindly as he looked back down at her. “You know where you are don’t you? This is the burial place of my WIFE!” 

Pushing her head further into the sand, he brought the blade down to her neck. “You’ve disturbed Illana!” 

Gasping for breath, she instinctively grasped at his wrist, holding back the blade against her throat, trying to understand what was happening. The sharp edge drew a trickle of blood that ran down her neck to stain the sand; he was furious and talking nonsense. She had heard rumors of his supposed insanity before but they had just been tales from frightened baseliners. Station crew talked, afterall many feared their kind; but people were prone to exaggeration, especially about men like Tiger who had a history of being rash and violent. He had never attacked her, at least...not like this. This was different, he lacked any of the calm cold composure he usually carried; his eyes were drifting, unfocused, almost as if he was looking past her. 

He continued his tirade, lowering his face back down to hers, voice quietening again as he pointed up towards the horizon behind them, towards the mountains. “Up there was our home. The home I shared with her. You shouldn’t have come here.” 

For what felt like an eternity Tiger sat poised above her, holding her down, the weight of him pressing on her stomach; making it hard to draw breath. Knowing she did not have the strength to stop him, she pleaded with him instead. 

“Tiger…please.” 

He continued to stare down at her, seemly oblivious to her voice as she waited for him to press the blade into her, but the moment didn’t come. Instead she felt the pressure on her ease. 

“No, I won’t!” he spoke again a little calmer, looking up in front of him. She realized he wasn't talking to her, and that thought made her panic.

Gently, she pressed her hand on his wrist, trying to get some distance between herself and the blade without spooking him while he remained distracted by whatever he was talking to. She was sweating now, his erratic behavior recalling Jacob's voice in her mind; something he had said to her many times. ‘He will kill you one day Sahriah’ 

“Tiger” she repeated louder this time, though her voice was shaky and unsure. She didn't want to believe Jacob could be right, not this time. “Forgive me…I never meant to trespass.” 

He didn’t look at her, but she felt his grip loosen on the blade. Instinct told her to try and throw him off; he didn’t look like he could be reasoned with, but she had to try. Keeping eye contact with him as much as she could, she slowly moved her fingers around his hand, getting some control over the weapon, desperately trying to think of something she could say to calm him.

She remembered back to when Tiger had first summoned her aboard his ship, the HMS Sabre, entering that room with the fake confidence of a pilot fresh from the academy, despite having already lost a pitched battle against his forces. He had sensed the fear in her, but it was never his ego, nor his temper that still scared her after these many months. It had been something else, something just below the surface; something unidentifiable until now. She remembered his first words to her, repeating them now in the hope he would remember. “You needn’t be so afraid. I could never hurt you.” 

Those words seemed to hit a chord in him, and he looked down at her, his face softening. 

“No” he answered, his voice gentler. “You’re right, I could never hurt you.” 

Realizing she was scared, he released his grip on the blade, moving his face down closer to her body, whispering to her quietly, making soft reassuring noises to calm her as he brought his finger up to stroke her cheek. “Shhhhh” 

With his head a few inches from her neck, he lowered his lips to her wound, gently licking at the cut. The feeling sent a shiver down her spine and her whole body tensed. Trying to turn her head away from him as much as she was able, she tightened her grip on the blade; the sudden change in his demeanor causing her to panic rather than relax. 

“No Tiger…” she pleaded again, flipping the blade around, digging it into the sand to gain some leverage, her other hand pushing at his chest trying to shove him back. “Let me up…please. Please...let’s just go back to the shuttle.” 

“Back to the shuttle?” he responded through gritted teeth, grabbing her hair and pulling her head to the side so he could whisper in her ear. “After all I’ve done for you!?” Reaching down to his belt, he pulled a blaster from its holster. Holding her still, he moved his lips to hers, kissing her forcefully, keeping a firm pressure on her body as he raised the blaster to the side of her head. “I loved you Illana!” 

Adrenaline surged through her. His words rippled through her mind, the sudden realization that he had been seeing and talking to Illana this whole time sparked an unexpected anger in her. Illana wasn't even alive, he had told her that himself.

‘Even the smallest of news services covered my wife's death. She was my reward….my payment to cease a war against an old friend of mine. I took his wife, and made her my own’

Her mind raced as she struggled against him. What the fuck was wrong with him? What kind of sick joke was this. Had he been manipulating her this entire time? Using her as a replacement for his dead wife? As a release for his guilt and desire? Or did he just want another pet, a prize, to make his own? Her anger turned into a blind rage as she mimicked his irrational thinking. She clutched the hilt of the blade firmly, a justification echoing in her mind, compelling her to use it against him; the desperate urge to get him off finally igniting a fight or flight response.

“Get off!” she screamed, trying to turn her head away from him; struggling against his hands as they attempted to hold her still in the sand. She could feel the cold metal of the blaster on her temple. He wouldn’t pull that trigger would he? No, he was just trying to frighten her into submission. The betrayal she felt grew with every passing thought. “I trusted you!” 

With one fluid movement she pulled the blade from the sand and embedded it into his shoulder, the sharp metal slicing into the muscle ligaments, stripping all the strength from his arm. She waited for the grasp around her throat to ease before she pulled it free; blood pouring from the wound, the weight on her body lifting as he sat up abruptly, screaming, his face contorted with pain. 

Taking the opportunity, she drew on all the strength in her body to throw him backwards off her. Thrusting herself forward, she pinned him now, plunging the blade into him again without thinking. “I'M NOT ILLANA!” she screamed, bringing the now reddened metal tip to rest above his chest, repeating her words louder, her voice cracking as tears formed in her eyes “I'M NOT ILLANA!” 

She leaned over his body, strands of hair falling over her face as she reached for his other hand, it still holding the blaster. She wrapped her hand around it, grasping it firmly, still screaming in a strained erratic voice. “Illana is DEAD Tiger, she killed herself remember? Or can’t you let go of it?” she mustered all the hate in her veins, the words spilling out of her without thought. “I’m not another one of your prizes!” 

Pinning his arm against the sand, she dug the blade into his elbow joint, forcing the blaster from his fingers as the pain distracted him. Every voice in her head urged her to shoot him with it. She could kill him right now. It would be so easy.

Standing up, she loomed over him as he whimpered in shock on the now red soaked sand. He looked up at her, trying to stand but failing, his eyes pained, as if a clarity had been returned to him. “Sahriah...Don’t leave me…Please.” 

A pang on doubt forced its way into her mind, snapping her out of her anger for a moment. She looked down at her hands, and then to his body; red liquid covering them both. She began to feel dizzy as a wave of nausea swept over her, realizing what had she just done and the consequences she knew would follow.

Wanting desperately to escape from this cursed planet, she looked up towards the shuttles. Dropping his blade she took the blaster and ran; not stopping to look back at him as he called out to her in pain, or as he begged her for help.