VOID DRIFTER

“The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. The second shortest is a line that curves just a little.”

W.J.

Chapter 1

Two years. It had been two years. Or at least, she guessed it had been about two years. There had simply never been a time to stop and think about it. There had only been the war. What were the Eldars even thinking of sending me here?

“This planet is already dead.” or, more accurately, its star is dying.

“You are frustrated with the Eldars.” Woo-Yaal chortled in the back of his throat.

“Is it that hard to guess?” She retorted. Having inherited her height from both her mother and father, she stood at one hundred and eighty centimeters with a muscular build forged by years of training and then two years of war. This would have made her stand out on her home planet, but here she was still on the small side. Seeing as she couldn’t intimidate others with her size, she had learned to use her voice. Fixing an excited smile onto her face, she turned to Woo-Yaal.

“Oh, I do hope the Eldars will be happy with my work. If I try hard and do my best, they might even give me a gift.” Her words were sharp and dripped with poison.

“You are scary. Mother is scary,” laughed Woo-Yaal, shaking his great head back and forth. “The Eldars would soil themselves and cry if you said that to them.” She couldn’t help it. She smiled. Seeing Woo-Yaal happy had a way of infecting her. He sometimes acted childishly, but that was to be expected. If she had wanted maturity she would have brought Woo-Yaal’s brother, Tei-uun. But he was three systems away on a different mission.

Void touched her. Immediately, she wrenched herself back to focus on the present and looked around. She began to draw on Void energy; but if the Void touched her, that meant she should be ready for anything. Woo-Yaal had also felt the touch and was hissing as he scanned behind her. He had received some Void powers a year and a half ago when she had saved him and his brother by force-feeding them Void energy.

They stood still as stones for several long seconds. They were in the ruins of a city, whose tall buildings lined the street and rose hundreds of meters into the dying sun’s light. This city had probably been a bustling metropolis of commerce a year ago. It was terrifying how fast the buildings decayed and nature reclaimed the land. Suddenly, in the stillness, they heard it. A baby’s cry.

The power of Void flooded her muscles, cleared her mind, and sharpened her senses. As she dashed down the street in the direction of the faint cry, she considered summoning a weapon. Confident in her ability to summon a weapon before a sneak attack hit, she decided against it and barreled on, Woo-Yaal at her heels. The next time the cry rang out, it was directly above them. Woo-Yaal smashed into the building’s lowest floor, going for the stairs. She didn’t follow; she didn’t need to. Channeling Void, she jumped, Void lashing high onto the buildings and pulling. She shot straight up like an arrow. Lashing out again with Void against the opposite building, she threw herself sideways into the seventh story. A Void blast broke a window threw which she shot head first. Rotating in flight and pushing against the oncoming interior wall with a Void lash, she slowed herself enough to land feet first against the wall. Dropping to the floor, she froze, waiting. The cry came again, much weaker this time, but close. Dashing into the next room she found the child, curled wrapped in a dirty blanket laying on the table. Sadness weighed upon her as she released Void. looking around wearily, she found no one else. the room, the entire building, was abandoned. Stepping forward she picked up the child. It was tiny, and light. Too light. The sorrow grew heavier. The child's eyes were shut but the mouth hung open and its little fist swayed slightly.

“You’re hungry aren’t you, little one.” I doubt you can eat the rations I have. Hell, I probably couldn't eat that stuff. She smiled. The Eldars are gonna be pissed. Cradling the child in one arm, she gently inserted her other index finger into the child’s mouth. It bit down slightly and noise escaped its throat.

“There there.” she cooed. “You are going to live. You are going to be a thorn in the side of the Eldars.” Drawing on Void, she released it into the child’s mouth. Immediately the color began to return to their skin and its bite on her finger grew stronger. Sylvia would have started to bounce and coo as she fed the child. But she was not her older sister, so she stood, poised and ready as she inspected the child more closely. Thick, black hair obscured the top half of its face. Gently blowing the hair aside revealed tightly shut eyes and thick black lashes. The baby didn’t seem normal. To be fair, the only babies she previously had experience with were her siblings, and none of them could prepare her for this world. Besides, she was the one feeding the infant Void energy.

Woo-Yaal burst into the room, shattering the door and sending debris flying.

“Look. You have a new sibling.” She forced a smile, hoping she hadn't just made a huge mistake.

The new trio exited the building. There wasn’t anything else they could do here. The world was dying. Soon, its core would collapse and it would break apart. Sitting down and placing her back against a slab of something that she was pretty sure the city planners hadn’t put in the middle of the street, she looked down the long road that stretched as far as she could see. The sun was setting somewhere off to the left, illuminating the ragged rotting clouds in hues of pink, purple, and gold. Even in death, the sky is beautiful. Woo-Yaal coiled himself and laid his head next to her. One of his golden eyes, which was bigger than her splayed hand, opened to look at her and then at the child. Still nursing the baby, she freed her other arm and scratched below his eye. His tongue flicked out tasting the scent of the child.

“Little one is small.”

“Everyone is little when compared to you.”

“But little one will grow. Mother has already grown.”

“Hey! I am still growing!” At least I think I am. Woo-Yaal’s eye fixed her again.

“Mother has not shed her skin in a long time. She is no longer growing.”

“I haven’t ever shed my skin! Humans just grow bigger.” Woo-Yaal looked very confused. She realized that the fact that she could tell that a Jormungand Serpent was thinking probably meant she spent too much time with a snake and not enough time with, well, anything else. Sighing, she said,

“Look, this one,” gesturing to the child, “has flesh like me. She will not shed her skin. She will simply grow bigger.”

“Simply grow bigger?” Woo-Yaal repeated, “I do not understand.” The conversation lapsed back into silence. The sun feebly lit the sky as it burnt the last of its fuel, darkness overtaking the world. And yet, she did not want to leave. She had been so busy. She was so tired. Just sitting here, in the comfortable darkness with Woo-Yaal and this child was…peaceful.

“We should go,” Woo-Yaal growled. The star had finally begun to collapse. She didn’t have time to watch. Just like on Oryy and Fragron, she had to leave. “No time to mourn the dead! There are living to be saved.” The words of one of her old jump buddies flew through her mind, “Damn it Fayte! You were still wrong back on Igrir.” She laughed inwardly at herself; “never forget a lesson. Especially one that can save your life.”

“The child has drunk much Void.” Woo-Yaal said, raising his head and flexing it back and forth. She hadn’t realized she’d been feeding the child this whole time.

“That should be enough,” she said, extracting her finger. The child did not cry. Well, that's good. “See you back in the room.”

“See you in the room,” Woo-Yaal said as he opened a void rift and slithered through. It was still mildly disconcerting to see a giant snake disappear into nothing.

She held the child close to her chest. It grabbed a tiny fist full of her shirt. And she began her drift.