Beyond The Impossible

Asgard Station, Null Zone

Max Black a.k.a. Quantum watches Torn take a seat on the floor, sitting in the Lotus position in front of the cell where the possessed Lyra Syzar is being held.

<Should I get you a chair or something?> the human asks.

<No.>

<Just saying, this could take a while, right?>

<It could. Or it could kill me in a few minutes.>

<You’re always the optimist, uh?> Quantum mumbles, rolling his eyes.

<I am. It could also be seconds.>

<And I guess if Noriko wasn’t able to talk you out of this, you’re not gonna listen to me trying to convince you this is totally nuts.>

<Then why do you continue talking, Quantum?>

<Because I still think there must be a less crazy way to investigate the Ichor than merging your mind with someone possessed by an evil dark force from space.>

<It is a chance to gain a deeper understanding of my connection to the Blood. If you had a way to get in touch with your own powers, would you give it away?>

<You mean if I had the chance to blow my mind to bits! No, I wouldn’t exactly volunteer. Especially if I had a wife and kids, like you. Just be careful, alright?>

<You’re overacting, Quantum. If the Ichor possesses me, your powers should be sufficient to end my life before I become a danger to anyone else.>

<That’s “overreacting”, and the hell I am!>

<Thank you. Hell be with us.> Torn responds, mistaking Quantum’s imprecation for him agreeing and making an appeal to his home planet.

<Now please be silent. I must concentrate.> he then adds, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Quantum stares at him. Nothing seems to happen.

<You still there?>

<Quantum. Do you know what the word “silent” means?>

<Sorry, sorry. Do your thing.>

Several seconds pass, during which nothing seems to happen except Quantum sensing that the temperature around his teammate seems to increase.

When Torn’s body starts to glow from the red aura of Blood appearing around him, he takes it as a sign that it’s working. The human grabs his holographic tablet, sits down in a corner, and as he catches up with his comic book reading he tries not to think too much about what Torn is doing.

 

Nowhere

Torn has decades of experience exploring other people’s souls, but this is the first time the vision in front of him is entirely bathed in blue light.

<Peculiar.> he says to himself, exploring the vision. There are three Lampyrian women present, seemingly of a similar age; it’s already hard to discern the subtle differences in appearance between a young and an old human, but Lampyrians age even faster.

<If only my father were here to witness this.> one of the women says; Torn suspects she’s the oldest, judging from how she hunches over.

<If he didn’t get himself killed, my wife wouldn’t have needed to lay her egg in secret.> a younger Lampyrian protests.

<Lerya! Not in front of the hatchling!> her companion protests.

<Your child must know she’s the heir of the greatest political dynasty of this Galaxy, Elilia. Never let her forget that she’s a Syzar.> the older woman insists.

<Actually, we are discussing about dropping the last name.>

<You what!?>

<There’s not even a way to spell it in our language. We don’t want Lyra to grow up thinking she’s more human than Lampyrian.> Lerya explains.

<Besides, as long as Aura is the President, we don’t think she’ll be safe in the Mortal Republic. We’ll take her to a Lampyria.> Elilia adds.

<After all your grandfather and I have sacrificed for you, how dare you…> Elyla Syzar begins to argue, but her daughter Elilia interrupts her.

<What did he sacrifice!? He adopted a Lampyrian to get enough sympathy from our people, getting the loyalty of that secret organization… what was it called, the Blue Rose? He discarded them once they weren’t useful anymore. Just like he did with you!>

<His alliance with Null brought us the elixir that expanded our lifespan. You’re too young to remember the time when our kind would not survive to see a third birthday.>

<You’re living in the past, birth-mother. Lyra and her generation are our future.> Lerya argues, taking the newborn into her hands. Quite literally: the egg hatched earlier in the day, so Lyra is still small enough to be held in the palm of her hand.

<Future.> the newborn repeats, saying her first word as she stretches her tiny wings.

 

A week later

Torn feels like his soul just got whiplash. A Lampyrian’s mind moves faster than he imagined: even commuting with Null’s soul wasn’t making him so dizzy.

But now he sees something very few people are able to witness: a Lampyrian who has yet to reach adulthood. The child-sized Lyra is watching her grandmother prepare her luggage in a hurry, as sounds of laser blasts are coming from the outside.

<Granny, where are we going? Where are moms?>

<Aura’s people have found us. We have to leave, this planet is not secure anymore.>

<But I’m going to school in three days!>

<You’ll have the best schools money can buy, Lyra.>

<But I don’t want the best schools, all my friends are here!> the child protests; the older Lampyrian grabs her by the arm, squeezing a little too tight.

<What you want is not important! You are a Syzar, we are bred for greatness!>

<You’re hurting me, granny!>

An explosion blasts open the door to the house, swarmed by half a dozen women wearing the uniform of Galactic Security… all of them former pirates under Aura’s leadership.

<Hands where I can see them! Keep your wings behind your back!> one of them shouts, pointing her laser gun at the two Lampyrians.

<Don’t shoot the kid!> the grandmother yells.

<I want my mommies!> Lyra cries.

<Zeus almighty, are those things annoying.> one of the soldiers sighs, shooting the two Lampyrians with a stun blast.

 

Two days later

Despite the disorientation in how quickly the vision changes, Torn recognizes this place: it’s the Presidential Palace on Argos.

Lyra is a little harder to recognize: she already looks like a teenager. Like her grandmother Elyla, her hands and wings are tied behind her back, and they are both sitting in front of the desk of the Acting President of the Mortal Republic, Aura Syzar.

Torn has, of course, met Aura several times. At seven feet tall she was already an imposing figure, but since he’s seeing her through the memories of Lyra she feels even bigger.

<And I should believe you’re not interested in taking my place?> she asks.

<Aura, please, she’s just a child.> Elyla pleads.

<A child who’s already smarter than the majority of humans and who will be able to have kids in what, a month? Your people should never be underestimated, Elyla. Your father committed plenty of mistakes, but he had the right attitude on that.>

<Don’t speak of my father, Aura. He married you only for political convenience, he never wanted you to control his legacy!>

<And yet he largely left you out of his will, imagine that. Now, what should I do with you two?>

<You really shouldn’t kill me.> Lyra replies.

<The thought has crossed my mind.> Aura admits.

<I’ve seen your poll numbers, you’re not very popular. You don’t have children and humans reproduce slowly, so you’re not going to have a political dynasty of your own for a while.>

<You think I care about politics?>

<You play the part of a leader, but at heart you’re still a pirate: you care about being backstabbed. If you let me live, anyone considering killing you will believe I’ll be ready to carry out your revenge. And if anyone tries to kill me first, just having me near you will be the warning sign you’ll need to punish them.> Lyra coldly proposes.

<Hm. That does sound useful.> Aura nods.

<Give me a position that’s useful but that carries little risk for you, say, in finance. I won’t live long enough to cause you trouble anyway; what do you have to lose?>

<What do you know about finance?> Elyla wonders.

<I’m Lampyrian. Give me a month and I’ll know everything. But I do have something to ask in return, Aura: the safety of my family.>

<You have some balls for a blue runt. I’m intrigued. Very well: your mothers will leave for Lampyria. Your grandmother, however, will stay where I can see her.> Aura declares.

<I have no intention to work for you!> Elyla protests.

<Not exactly what I had in mind. Take her to prison and keep her locked until she dies, that shouldn’t take long.> Aura instructs the nearest guards.

Elyla is too smart to think she has any chance of escaping, but she yells:

<You’ll regret this! Wait until Null knows about this!>

 

<Who’s going to tell her? Despite what her idiotic believers think, Null is not all-knowing… as long as she’s away from that backwater swamp of her birth planet, there are limits to her powers. And as long as I control the Mortal Republic, she only knows what I want her to know.> Aura boasts, watching her prisoner being handcuffed… until an axe of black energy cuts off her head.

Torn is taken out of the vision: time is frozen immediately after both guards are also cut in half, and he turns towards Lyra. Whose blue skin is slowly being covered by black Ichor.

<That’s not what happened.> Torn says, creating a sword of Blood energy and preparing to use it; this may not be real, but his connection to the Blood still is.

<It should have happened. I should have found a way to save my grandmother.> she says.

<You were young, even by Lampyrian standards. And you can still save your grandmother.>

<She died in prison before Null took power. This was the last time I saw her; I was able to talk Aura into keeping me alive, I should’ve done it for her as well.>

<Is this why you’re running for Prime Minister? Revenge?>

<Redemption. My family has done much for this Galaxy, but it’s also caused much pain. The Mortal Republic was a failed experiment: someone has to step up to prevent the Empire from committing the same mistakes.>

<Hm. You may prove to be a good leader, Lyra, but you don’t need powers. In fact, you’re proving yourself to be a lousy user of the Ichor.>

<Why is…> Lyra starts to ask, but she stops when a Blood sword emerges from her chest: she didn’t even see Torn instantly moving behind her until he stabbed her.

<Your mind is still too literal. This is not the real world.> he explains, watching the Ichor ooze out of Lyra’s wound.

 

Asgard Station, Null Zone

Quantum puts down his tablet when he sees Torn is moving again, watching the Demon stand up with some difficulty. At the same time, inside the cell Lyra’s restrains are being cut by several Blood daggers.

<Did you do it?> the human asks.

<I exorcised her, severing her connection to the Ichor. Her soul hadn’t been corrupted enough to permanently bond her.> the Demon explains.

<And did you learn anything?>

<Not about the Ichor. But I have the urge to talk to Null about politics.>

<Dude, out of all the absurd stuff I’ve heard you say over the years, how is THAT the craziest thing you’ve ever said!?>