Alutia Rising, Anniversary Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 1) (28 page)

Trent grunted as he forced himself into a
sitting position, rubbing his temples to try to clear the last
shreds of the disturbing nightmare that had followed him into
waking.

“What the...” he pulled his hands away,
staring in disbelief. “Didn’t I...” he started to question, clearly
recalling the loss of his arms, the overwhelming pain still fresh
in his mind. But his eyes couldn’t be mistaken. There were two
perfectly normal arms extending before him, the fingers wiggling at
their ends, his.

For a moment, he thought this was all a
dream, some cruel trick of his mind that had not accepted the fact
of his loss. But after a hard pinch on the arm, he realized he was,
in fact, awake. Shaking his head in disbelief;
a dream or not, I
have my arms back
,
and that’s all the matters,
he
started to look about the room in which he found himself.

It was all white, reminding him of the
previous room where the mysterious trial he had been forced to
endure took place. Though there were differences. This room was
much smaller and empty, except for a metallic table that was
protruding from the end of an ellipsoid shaped container that stood
about three meters long and a meter and a half wide. It was smooth,
except for a half-spherical protrusion on its side, about 20 cm
around, with a tiny hole in the center. Based on its ellipsoid
shape and size, a person could easily fit inside. He figured it
would open when required, allowing the metal table in which he sat
to retract within.

“Just wish it didn’t look like a coffin,” he
muttered, realizing he'd probably been inside the bizarre device
while his mind was locked in darkness.

Slowly, Trent swung his throbbing legs off
the table, gradually increasing the weight he placed on them as he
stood. He stumbled, his muscles screaming like they hadn’t been
used in years. But he quickly regained control. He took an unsteady
step, then another, and another. Soon, he felt comfortable enough
to fully explore his surroundings.

He circled the small room, double-checking
every corner, while continuing to work the stiffness out of his
limbs until his steps began to come naturally. Finding nothing of
interest, he looked to the waiting exit.

The smooth metallic door slid open as he
approached and, like a burglar fearful to alert an unsuspecting
target, he tiptoed through, into an even smaller room, with a
mirror covering one wall, and a bench with folded clothes atop its
surface on the other.
A dressing room
, he realized. He moved
before the mirror and froze, not recognizing the youthful
reflection appearing within.

Midway up his arms, the pasty white skin
turned to a dark tan, which covered the rest of his body. The
reverse farmer's tan, or so Trent called it, was bizarre, but not
as bizarre as the drastic changes the rest of his body had
undergone. His slightly receding hairline, and growing forehead,
had been replaced by a full head of luscious, dirty brown curls,
the same as he remembered from his youth. The creases that had
begun forming with age had vanished, along with the few scars he
had collected over the years. His nose seemed smaller, as well as
his ears, and his jaw more pronounced, the slight swelling of his
jaw line that occurred with age, having vanished.

“It’s like I’m 18 again,” he whispered with
disbelief, touching the mirror to verify it was real.

Other changes became apparent the longer he
stared. He looked toned; his belly now flat, showing a six-pack
that looked unreal. His arms and chest were much more defined,
almost “chiseled”, like he’d been taking care of his body and
working out every day, not drinking heavily and barely eating.

He shook his head in disbelief as he slipped
into the familiar blue and white jumpsuit provided, strapping the
holster he found underneath over his shoulder. He pulled free the
narrow, cylindrical weapon, with an arrow shaped tip at one end. It
called forth a memory of Sir Simwa’s malicious snarl a moment
before he...Trent slid the weapon back into the holster before it
fully took hold.

Looking himself over one last time, still
unable to believe the man looking back at him was actually him, he
strode through the next doorway with a little more confidence.

The cylindrical room he entered was, as
expected, completely abandoned. Throughout its interior were many
of the ellipsoid “coffins”, identical to the one he’d found when he
awoke. They lined the curving walls perpendicularly, like an
inverse gear, only broken by open doorways. A column sat in the
center of the room, with more of the “coffins” circling its base,
reminding him of a flower, the “coffins” its metallic petals and
the column its center stem. To both sides of the doorway he just
exited were curved, wooden half tables, with a row of
semi-spherical protrusions, like a uniform mountain range, atop its
surface, similar to the ones that adorned the sides of the
ellipsoid “coffins”.

“Hello?” he half-shouted, not sure if he
actually wanted to hear a response, having seen too many horror
movies in his life with scenes such as this. When no reply came, he
started to wander around the room.

The first few exits he passed led to similar
rooms to the one he had awoken, while the others led to rooms
identical to the one he was now in, but with no further exits. When
he had circled halfway around the room, he found a closed metallic
door indistinguishable to the first, with similar, curving half
tables on either side.

Without warning, the unintelligible voice
speaking in an unknown tongue reappeared within the back of his
mind. But this time it was much stronger, and seemed to emanate
from an external source, within the wall just to the right of the
door. Carefully, like a cat preparing to pounce on an unsuspecting
mouse, he approached the wall, running his fingers over the spot
where the voice appeared to be originating.

“Hello, I can't understand you,” Trent
whispered. But the voice just continued, apparently not hearing his
words, before fading again.

Finding little else he could do, he started
through the door, only to bounce back as it didn't open like the
others. He rubbed his stinging nose. “Hello!” Trent shouted,
banging upon the door’s surface with his fist, hoping someone was
on the other side. There was, as expected, no response. He began
pacing around the room, pondering how he may escape what started to
remind him of a bizarre “catacomb”.

He thoroughly searched each and every one of
the side rooms, but found nothing besides the ellipsoid “coffins”
and semispherical shaped devices, no further exits or anything else
that could provide him a hint of where he was. Out of ideas, he
moved back to the locked door that had to be the only exit.

As he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath,
the unintelligible voice erupted again in the back of his mind,
seeming to originate from the same spot in the wall. He tried to
ignore it, thinking it would go away on its own. But it just grew
stronger, the voice like an incessant itch inside his head that he
could only scratch if he concentrated on its origin. So he stopped
resisting, instead, forcing his entire concentration on the voice,
listening to it carefully.

“What are you trying to say?” he hissed
through his teeth, still unable to make out the odd words, just
gibberish. But he did find that the effort relieved the itch,
providing a brief moment of respite from the unexplainable
sensation.

He listened for as long as his mind would
allow, trying to gain something, anything, from the voice, before
the strain became just too strong. But no matter how long he
listened, it did little but temporarily relieve the itch within his
mind. He was about to give up hope, thinking he may, in fact, be
going crazy, when an idea struck him.

What if I think back at the voice?
The
thought made an odd kind of sense, no matter how much his mind
screamed it illogical, since the voice seemed to be talking
directly into his mind. Finding no reason not to try it;
if I’m
going crazy it doesn’t matter, does it?
He concentrated on the
spot in the wall where it seemed to originate.

“What are you trying to say,” he thought,
visualizing the words within his mind, then projecting them forth.
The sensation felt similar to talking, but with his mind. “I’m
definitely going crazy,” he muttered as the voice vanished for a
few seconds, then returned, clearer than before, but still too
fuzzy for him to understand. Trent, thinking he was on to
something, again pictured his words before projecting them at the
wall.

“I still can’t understand you,” he thought.
The voice vanished once again.

Trent began pacing anxiously before the door,
considering the ramifications if he was indeed, going insane. But
he didn’t feel like he was going crazy, and his mind cried that it
couldn't be a coincidence that when he thought his words towards
the spot on the wall, the voice would vanish instantly. The voice
returned much clearer than before and Trent thought he could
discern some of the words, but most were still gibberish.

“You’re making no sense,” he thought once
again. This time the voice didn't vanish, but responded instantly,
becoming even clearer, but still unintelligible.

“Why can’t I understand you?” He could see
the voice's response with his mind, comprehension on the tip of his
tongue, but slipping through his fingers like the words were made
of water. “Just tell me what you want already you damn stupid
voice!” he shouted with all his frustration.

“Please enter your request,” a crystal clear
response boomed within his mind, the odd itching sensation
vanishing completely.

Trent stumbled, finding the sensation
disorienting. The voice sounded identical to one he would hear with
his ears, but not originating from his ears. It was almost like
he’d grown a new ear within his mind. That particular thought made
the idea that he may be going crazy, stronger. But he repressed it,
knowing it was better to accept the voice for what it was...a
normal voice that talked to him within his head.

He chuckled.
I’m definitely going
crazy,
his last thought being proof enough of that fact. He
sighed, then thought the first thing that came to mind towards the
wall.

“Where am I?” An annoying tone, like a fire
alarm, sounded in response. Trent could only shake his head to try
and remove its echo. But it did little good. He had no choice but
to wait for the tone to fade on its own.

“Please enter your request,” the voice
returned when it finally ceased. Trent began to think;
whatever
the voice is, there must be some sort of guidelines for its
use.
Meaning the question he'd just asked wasn't appropriate or
structured correctly.

It felt as if a light bulb lit in his brain;
the voice was asking for a request, not a question!
He
thought his question, but in the form of a request.

“Please provide information about my current
location,” he thought.

“The location of this BAP,” the response came
almost instantly, “is within emergency medical annex five of TSB
Earth Base, wing eleven,” he pumped his fist in jubilation, before
taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. The response
provided him an idea of where he was, within a base of a group
called the TSB. But he needed information, something more concrete.
He decided to consider the recent whirlwind of events that had been
his life, thinking his past experience may provide him a better
idea of exactly what sort of questions he should ask.

Trent recalled the unusual “recruitment”
trial he'd been a part of, and from what he remembered, it was to
join an organization called the Terra Space Battalion, which he
gathered was the same as the TSB.

“Please provide information on the Terra
Space Battalion,” Trent thought towards the wall.

“Excerpt found in;
Welcome to the TSB!
Guide for new recruits
: The Terra Space Battalion, or TSB, is
an autonomous organization created by Emperor Noolis Origin, the
278th ruler of the New Universal Empirical Human Alliance, in NHA
year 69,482, to monitor, study, and protect the special
protectorate of Earth,” the answer was not what he expected. He had
assumed the TSB was some sort of corporate affiliated organization,
but he’d never heard of any that were gaudy enough to have an
emperor. So instead of digging further, he decided to ask about the
other name mentioned, the word “empirical” sending a shiver down
his spine.

“Please provide information on the New
Universal Empirical Human Alliance,” he thought his next
question.

“Excerpt found in,
So you grew up on
Earth?
: The New Universal Empirical Human Alliance, or NHA, is
the experimental government organization responsible for ruling the
universe. Currently, the NHA rules over 203 galaxies with over 200
million populated planets, and constantly growing.” Trent gaped at
the wall in disbelief at what he’d just heard, or thought he heard,
or heard in his thoughts...
it’ll take time to get use to
this,
he realized.

Trent paused for a moment, allowing the
ridiculous explanation to fully sink in. According to this voice
talking directly into his mind, he was in the base of a universe
spanning alliance that ruled over 200 million planets.

“Its official...I’ve lost it...” Trent place
his fingers to his cheeks, like it would some way help him
understand, “but what if,” he whispered as another idea came to
mind, one that was strangely logical, “this is all a corporate
experiment?” he shuffled towards one of the ellipsoid
“coffins”.

They must have implanted something in my
head that is causing these delusions
. He ran his fingers over
its surface, searching for a way to open it, while gaining
confidence in the reasoning behind the unexplainable occurrences
he’d faced.