14. Poltergeist Phenoms
14
Poltergeist Phenoms
ISSA
H er accommodation was a modest, furnished bed-sit in Solara, a residential district north of Eden City, just a short walk from the spaceport.
When she arrived, Issa locked the door, activated a scrambler field, and pulled up a private holo channel.
The encrypted call buzzed once or twice before the image of her brother, Iyanda, materialized.
‘Issa,’ he greeted.
His face almost mirrored her own, with the same honeyed skin and luminous astral eyes, but heavier, more burdened, yet younger than she was.
Behind him, the emerald hinterland of Dunia stretched into the horizon, with verdant fields and massive bioluminescent forests beyond, with vines shifting like breathing organisms.
A storm was hovering in the skies above, a gale was blowing, and trees were bending over, lashed by Mother Nature.
The emerald was alive and sentient in ways no other in the universe was. Its tempest reflected in the weariness and rage in her brother’s eyes.
Issa’s chest tightened.
‘How is Father?’ she asked.
Iyanda exhaled, gaze darkening. ‘We’re keeping him stable, but the clock is ticking.’
Issa pressed her lips together.
Her mission was to buy her father more time. She couldn’t afford to fail.
‘Stay hidden,’ she reminded him. ‘The Sacra High are hunting us.’
‘We know; we sensed them in the system. Our shield holds, and we don’t think they detected us. We also discerned your battle and victory over the venators. Were you hurt?’
Iyanda’s expression softened. ‘ Nada . You’re all safe, and that’s all that matters.’
She hesitated. ‘For now.’
He didn’t press her further.
They both knew she was lying.
What mattered was her father’s salvation.
As the call ended, Issa lingered by the window, staring at Dunia’s emerald sphere in Eden II’s panoramic view.
Aching, yearning, longing for those she loved.
She slipped into the city’s underbelly an hour later, cloaked in a dark-hued hooded shroud.
Her chrono ticked, with just two hours reprieve, so her footsteps were fast as she raced toward the Pika settlements, where the radiance of Eden II’s gleaming skyscrapers never reached.
The tunnels under the moon’s surface were so deep and murky that one had no idea whether it was day or night.
Shadowy figures and skinny silhouettes slinked along the gloomy rock faces, their pale, drawn visages obscured by anti-regolith masks, catching the light here and there.
They were the Luna Pikani, dressed in sand-colored robes stiffened with wiring.
Their hands were gloved, and their feet were strapped to prevent any sand from getting through.
Over time, they earned another moniker, the ‘whistling Pikas,’ because of the unique fluted trill language they used to communicate.
These distinctive calls helped them find each other during harsh storms that tore through the astral scape.
Tis when the silver moon dust whipped through the tunnel shafts at incredible speeds, forceful enough to shear skin off and whip one away in seconds, flinging them into the lunar desert beyond.
Yet still, the Pikas endured, building rugged shacks and wearing reinforced clothing to battle the most extreme conditions the rock might throw at them.
Energy shields from the biomes stopped the worst severe squalls from penetrating the tunnels.
Some Pika camps had been erected deep into the regolith to escape the raging winds.
The stratified lunarscape and dome high above them were a safeguard, helping regulate pressure sufficient to sustain a breathable, stable atmosphere for millennia.
Every so often, the darkened underpasses would open into spacious boulevards packed with sweet-n-sour chili noodle bowl stalls, subterranean speakeasies, and sunken gambling dens.
The underground passage rat bars were where red-eyed, empty souls sat listlessly chugging down synth-hol by the bucket load.
The air here was thick with smoke and transgression, the alleys carved into a labyrinth of caverns where vice and violence ruled.
Dark figures lurked in neon-lit alcoves, whispering transactions of koko , the illicit coveted drug.
Holo-games flickered in buried casinos, men and women gathered around sabacc tables, trading credits for pleasures money was able to buy.
The Tunnel Lords held dominion here, running smuggling rings, weapons markets, and flesh trades unchecked.
It was not a place for the weak.
Undeterred, Issa had walked the subterranean city for months now.
Unleashing her power the best way she knew, answering to no law, only to the souls she served.
She moved through the unseen shadows, slipping into the narrow corridor to her hidden clinic.
Where she found a line of Pikani languishing in silence.
Ten. Fifteen. Maybe more. Men, women, and children.
All were ravaged by disease and malnutrition, and some were even poisoned by bad synth- koko batches.
A frail older woman with peeling skin and lesions down her arms sat closest to the door, her milky eyes turning toward the golden-haired woman.
‘ Sante for waiting,’ Issa murmured to the small group as she used her wrist comm to input a code into the entryway’s virtual pad, easing open the synth-steel slab.
The room she entered was compact, carved into the rock, lit by a few old plasma lamps.
The makeshift examination table was battered but clean, its metal surface scrubbed down after every patient.
Old medical crates lined the walls, filled with supplies she had smuggled from her various gigs over time.
She inhaled, followed by an exhale, rolling up her sleeves.
‘Alright, let’s get started.’
At her call, the first woman stepped in, trembling.
Issa ushered her onto the ancient hover med bed.
It beeped as it took the aging lady’s vitals and announced the sad diagnosis.
Issa assessed the data and, inhaling, placed her hands over the patient’s scarred forearms.
A golden glow flickered beneath her fingertips, seeping into the woman’s skin like liquid sunlight.
The lesions receded, the roughened texture smoothing, and new tissue formed before her eyes.
The woman gasped, weeping, contorting her worn face.
‘ Sante sana ,’ she whispered.
She scrabbled in her dusty cloak and removed her hand, pressing a coin into Issa’s palm.
The Sacran medic closed her hand around the offering and pushed it back into the older female’s grasp. ‘ De nada . This is a free clinic.’
In response, she received a hug, tears misting her patient’s eyes. ‘ Weh laika , you’re an angel,’ she muttered, squeezing Issa’s hand.
If only she knew.
Issa smiled, hiding her agony.
She didn’t do this for appreciation.
She did it because the curse would take someone she loved if she didn’t.
She escorted the senior woman to the door and spoke to her in the whistling tones of Pikani before she let her go.
More figures emerged from the shadows in silence, souls desperate for relief.
Another sigh.
Another wave of exhaustion.
She had work to do.
Ki’REMI
Sable HQ towered over Eden City in a skyline of glass and steel.
Its structure was sleek, crystalline, and monolithic, reflecting the glow of the twin suns.
Ki’Remi moved through the expansive lobby, striding toward the private elevator.
It carried him to the top floor, where he strode into a boardroom of gleaming panes and ambient gilded lighting, an elegant lair where some of Eden II’s most influential decisions were made.
At the heart of it sat Mirage.
She lounged in a floating anti-grav chair, her legs crossed in casual indifference.
A creature of impossible beauty, her skin was the deepest shade of onyx, polished like liquid night. Her eyes gleamed unearthly gold, flickering with the vast intelligence of the enormous galaxy-wide systems she controlled.
Tonight, she was adorned in a shimmering body suit.
The fabric whispered like stardust over her curves, glowing at the seams, shifting in color from deep sapphire to molten rose aureate with every movement.
Her limbs were long, elegant, dangerous, and utterly divine.
A cheroot rested between her lips, unlit for now, but her fingers tapped against it as she eyed him with an amused, perceptive smirk.
‘My favorite Sable.’
‘Liar. We’re all your favorites.’
‘Truth.’
Mirage’s voice purred through the boardroom, rich with self-satisfied amusement only she could pull off.
She leaned back in her sleek, high-backed chair, a vision of ebony-skinned perfection, her liquid gold eyes alight with mischief.
‘Always a delight when you grace me with your presence, Sable. How can I be of assistance?’
As she spoke, she sucked one end of a synth cheroot, and from between her lips trailed a thin wisp of fragrant smoke.
Ki’Remi lowered himself into one of the enveloping chairs across from her, fingers steepling as he met her gaze, his own focused, unwavering, all business.
‘How’s the full sweep on Issa Elaris going?’
Mirage tilted her head, considering him. A feline gleam danced in her eyes, a predator toying with prey just for the entertainment of it.
‘My, my, Sable,’ she drawled, blowing a perfect circle of smoke away from him. ‘So impatient about this one mystery woman, ay, that you visit in person for a report? Fascinating. How deep has she burrowed her claws in you?’
His jaw ticked, the muscle flexing once. ‘Do you have any results or not?’
She laughed, the sound husky and decadent, like the first pour of a vintage spirit into a crystal tumbler.
‘Oh, darling,’ she exhaled, shaking out her light pulsing locks. ‘Do I now?’
The walls flashed, with interlaces of data dancing over the surface. These threads led to Mirage’s intelligence core, which wound into the basement and caverns of the building far below them.
Extending into a web that snaked throughout Eden II and beyond. ‘I can do all things.’
She set aside her cigarillo on an ornate stand and closed her eyes.
The thrumming of real-time processing filled the space as she accessed her subtle undercurrent of whispered streams, her consciousness unfurling into the vast net of SysNet.
Into Pegasi’s deepest information repositories, classified archives, corporate records, criminal syndicates, and black markets.
Seconds ticked by. Ki’Remi’s fingers drummed against the polished table.
‘Anything?’
Mirage’s golden eyes snapped open, alert, keen, and assessing.
Slowly, she smirked, but a wariness laced her lips like she didn’t like what she saw.
‘Sable,’ she murmured, tilting her head. ‘You ever glimpsed a ghost before?’
His brows lowered, but he remained silent, waiting.
‘Because your girl?’ Mirage gestured, tapping her temple. ‘She’s a specter.’
Ki’Remi’s stomach clenched, a subtle, creeping dread crawling through his gut.
‘No one’s a wraith,’ he rasped. ‘Cept for maybe us Riders if one goes by the exaggerated rumors of our prowess.’
Mirage gave a slow, deliberate blink, the corner of her mouth quirking as if she were about to prove him wrong.
‘Not an exaggeration. To mere mortals, you’re specters and phantoms. Nonetheless, this woman might even be a step above a poltergeist phenom,’ she murmured. ‘Take it from me. I’ve pulled at Issa Elaris’ threads and found tendrils and smoke signals disappearing into the aether. It’s like she’s not from this reality.’
He frowned, impatient. ‘Explain.’
She sighed, sitting forward now, her demeanor shifting from teasing to business.
‘It’s as if she did not exist until a few years ago, at least in this universe and beyond. I pinpointed her arrival on Eden II a few years ago when she applied for a medical license as an experienced surgeon and started working at a local hospital, after which she transferred to the mercy ship rotations. All official. All clean. But preceding her time on Dunia?’ She leaned back again, exhaling a stream of smoke.
‘Nothing.’
Ki’Remi’s brows pulled together. ‘ Nada ?’
‘As in,’ Mirage tapped her temple again, her voice mocking yet tinged with genuine intrigue, ‘not a trace in any accessible database. No birth records, citizenship logs, previous employment history, or digital footprints. Not even a deleted one I can recover.’
She lifted a brow. ‘Now tell me, Sable. What kind of normal person has zero intel for me to work with?’
Ki’Remi stayed silent.
Mirage stared at him for a long moment, reading his reaction.
Then, in a slow, velvety whisper, she added, ‘There’s something else.’
Ki’Remi’s body tensed.
Mirage leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, her cheroot burning in forgotten embers between her fingers.
‘There’s a shield over her,’ she said, hushed, the teasing erased. ‘Tis not a cyber barrier, neither a firewall. Nor any decipherable stealth-ware or cloak I’m savvy to. Whatever she uses to fob off my probes and noids is not of this time or place.’
Her golden eyes flickered, something ancient in them.
‘Tis old, Ki’Remi. Archaic. Before my time even. It also has a cosmic, preternatural lock that I can feel but can’t touch. It’s like trying to look at the sun behind an eclipse. The moment I focus on her, she vanishes from my sensors.’
Ki’Remi’s breath stilled.
Mirage let the silence sink in as she sat back, lips pursed.
‘Truth be told, it’s the first time in my existence I haven’t been able to dig intel on someone.’
She gave a mirthless chuckle, shaking her head. ‘And fokk , it’s annoying.’
Ki’Remi inhaled, absorbing every word.
Specters, ancient shields, cosmic locks.
A reality that not even the omnipotent Mirage could crack.
He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more.
That Issa’s identity was still secret, the fact that her history was wiped clean, or the reason why.
‘You want me to keep digging?’ Mirage asked with a lazy smile, twirling the cheroot.
His jaw flexed.
Issa was no threat. He was sure of that, but all he had to go on was a gut feeling, which was rare for him.
Still, he was shaken by the fact that she had powers far beyond anyone’s imagination, had no past to investigate, and, worse, wielded a shield that eviscerated all sensors and probes.
After a moment, he exhaled with a heave of his chest.
‘Look into the ship that attacked us, and I’ll handle her.’
Mirage arched a brow. ‘Really? Her power appears unassailable. I don’t believe you can ‘ handle her ’ as you think.’
‘ Fokk you.’
She studied him, then hummed, a knowing smirk tilting her lips.
‘Well then,’ she murmured, flicking ash into the tray beside her. ‘I’ll be standing by, Sable.’
Ki’Remi’s fingers curled against his knee, his thoughts tangled in the woman who had burned through his life like a comet, scorching everything in her wake.
He exhaled. ‘Where’s Kainan?’
‘Training on the roof.’
He stood, already moving. ‘ Sante .’
‘ De nada , and thank you for the amusing interlude.’
Despite the lilt in her tone, he sensed Mirage’s annoyance at being bested by Issa.
The AI would not rest, and his lips quirked at the thought of her facing her first true challenge.
He stalked into an elevator, and it ascended, opening onto the sprawling rooftop of Sable HQ.
The terrace was a sanctuary for the Riders, a blend of dining and relaxation zones, high-tech fitness sections, an open-air martial dojo, and a tactical retreat.
A serene garden flanked one side, its greenery thriving under programmed weather controls.
On the other sat a combat area, where the Riders honed their bodies into precision instruments.
Kainan ruled at the center of it all.
The man was a monolith of muscle and power, his skin a rich, burnished bronze in the overhead glow of artificial lights.
In dark-colored sports shorts, he was statuesque.
His long mane of black locks whipped around his broad shoulders.
His tanned surface, from the thick neck to his upper arms and hands, was covered by gold and sapphire nebula tattoos.
The same iridescent jewel, aureate, and silver hues flashed on his beard, squared jaw, and full mustache. His forehead was a wall unto itself, ebony brows heavy and unyielding behind which operated a brilliant mind and keen strategic prowess.
Ki’Remi had served with this man through countless missions and wars.
Over the years, he’d grown to cherish and respect Kainan Sable as a dear friend, a formidable meta, and a freakin’ ruthless leader.
He was currently bench-pressing a ridiculous amount of mass, his bare torso slick with sweat, every inch of him carved from relentless discipline.
Ki’Remi approached as Kainan racked the weight and sat up, grabbing a towel.
‘Brother, you look like you’re set to murder souls,’ Kainan mused, rubbing the cloth over his face before tossing it aside.
Ki’Remi crossed his arms. ‘Something like that.’
Kainan grabbed his water flask, chugging hard. ‘Mirage pissing you off?’
‘Always.’
Kainan chuckled. ‘Tell me what’s got you pacing like a caged beast.’
Ki’Remi exhaled, stroking the tension out of his jaw ahead of laying it out: the attack on Alloria, the astral warriors, the sheer impossibility of what he’d seen.
Kainan listened, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, his expression fading into deep contemplation.
When Ki’Remi finished, Kainan raised his chin and met his gaze with a shrug and chin jerk.
‘You’re not surprised,’ Ki’Remi concluded.
‘I am not. For a while, Pegasi Military investigators and MIST, the intergalactic Meta Intelligence Service Task Force, have conducted covert surveillance on supernatural and celestial entities, individuals, and activity across the galaxy. We’ve noted increased incursions from dimensions and realities far removed from our own. Given our defense and judicial security, this galaxy is now considered a safe zone. So we’re getting a flood of refugees, runaways, and existentialist beings flooding in here from whatever dimensions, hellholes, and heavens they exist in that are under peril.’
Ki’Remi frowned. ‘The fokk ?’
‘It’s been happening for years now.’ Kainan’s voice was level. ‘Gods, spirits, and supernatural juju walk among us, kaka . The difference is we’re starting to see an uptick in their sorties. The question is why.’
Ki’Remi was silent.
He’d been buried in the work of mercy missions, healing, medicine, so much so that he had failed to see how the galaxy was shifting.
Kainan studied him, reading his mind. ‘Don’t blame yourself. You’ve been saving lives, kaka . That’s important, but the bigger picture is changing. We might need to find out who these celestial creatures are and peek behind the curtain they hide. Leave it with me and Mirage. I’ll get her to crosscheck MIST’s reports and provide more insight. That suit you?’
Ki’Remi exhaled, shrugging. ‘Maybe. At the same time, I have a fokkin ’ conundrum I don’t know what to do about yet.’
‘Is this about work or,’ narrowing his gold-flamed eyes on Ki’Remi, ‘someone you’re starting to care for?’
As always, Kainan discerned beyond the surface, and Ki’Remi grimaced. ‘Let’s just say I have witnessed an improbable soul. With implausible powers and its -.’
‘Blowing your mind,’ the Sable khosi drawled with a smirk. ‘I hear you, and I’m sure your cold logic will give you an answer soon.’
‘Tis not my logic that’s at attention.’
At his frustrated growl, Kainan laughed. ‘Sometimes, the only way to solve that particular conundrum is by going horizontal.’
‘I’m taking it at her pace coz she got an aura ‘bout I respect.’
Kainan smirked at his friend’s quandary. ‘As long as Pegasi and, above all, Eden II are never at risk.’
‘I’ll never let it get that far, brother.’
‘She’s supernal?’
‘Still finding that out, but from everything I see and what Mirage has shared, the woman is not of this world or any we’re aware of.’
‘I won’t say it, brother.’
‘I’ll be freakin’ careful,’ Ki’Remi rasped with a curl to his lip.
Kainan raised an eyebrow at that, but Ki’Remi turned on his heel before he might pry.
‘Bring her round to say hi sometime. After you light her up first, naturally.’
Ki’Remi growled mid-step and lifted a middle finger to his bosskhan behind him.
He bristled at the chuckle that followed, stalking away, needing to be alone with his thoughts.
His penthouse was ensconced in the upper levels of the lofty Sable HQ building.
He stepped out of the lift into a luxurious but minimal space crafted for purpose, not excess.
Dark, polished, ebony floors, deep indigo walls, and subtle native etchings glowed under the ambient lighting.
A glass window framed the view of Eden II, the twin suns lowering into the horizon, casting a spectral illumination over the cityscape.
The decor blended modern opulence with Ameru heritage.
Intricate tribal masks were mounted above the fireplace.
An antique spear was displayed across the mantel, and a woven ancestral tapestry detailing the old myths of his people was hanging on the far wall.
He poured himself a measure of rare Salatlassian rum, its deep, rich amber catching the light like molten gold.
Then he stepped onto the open-air terrace, where the city beneath him glittered with artificial neon constellations.
He sipped, slow, thoughtful.
Brooding.
Thinking of the one woman who defied reason, wielded forces he couldn’t explain, and made his mind unravel in ways he didn’t like.
How in the void was he supposed to deal with all of her?
The answer, he suspected, would come with consequences.
An hour passed.
The night was still, the atmosphere torrid with heat and the lingering scent of spiced rum.
Ki’Remi remained stretched out on the long couch, a glass half-drained at his side.
He stared at the expanse of Eden II’s twin moons until his eyes fluttered shut.
His consciousness slipped between wakefulness and slumber, breath hitching as his inner eye searched the skies.
The stars above him flickered, not with light, but with movement.
The constellations warped, twisted, and bent inward until the darkness itself began to take form.
The air shattered.
A storm of power exploded from his chest, rippling outward like the shockwave of an unseen detonation.
The walls rattled.
The floor groaned.
The fabric of the space around him distorted, bending to an energy far beyond temporal control.
His body wasn’t his anymore.
Not just morphing, not just shifting, but unraveling.
Multiplying.
He ceased to be mortal.
His skin darkened, the rich obsidian hue bleeding into an antediluvian shade belonging to the first sun-forged warriors of the Ameru.
His muscles stretched, his build towering higher, his frame thickening into something more than just Ki’Remi.
A form peeled from his frame.
Then another.
Then another.
Seconds later, the Witchmen stood around him, their shapes flickering in and out of the physical realm, neither here nor gone, neither alive nor dead.
They were him.
He was them.
Their voices, deep, raw, ancient, slithered through the thick, humid air.
‘You cannot escape us for too long, child of the Ameru.’
‘You will call for us soon.’
Ki’Remi tried to move and endeavored to breathe, struggling to do both.
The night thickened, pressing against his chest like a living entity.
The Witchmen loomed over him, their great forms moving like the essence of the cosmos, their eyes burning with the fire of a thousand untold battles.
One of them stepped forward, the eldest, the first.
K’Shivi the Savant Seer.
His name came to Ki’Remi’s awareness in a whisper like the roll of distant thunder, unhurried yet inevitable.
His face was a distorted, shifting mass of the even older sage souls who had gone before him.
‘Do not wait too long to embrace what you are, son.’
A second figure flickered beside him: Korai, the Shadow Sorcerer .
His presence was colder than deep space, and his appearance was of an ocean of smoke and icicles flowing over a cosmic plane.
‘Your power is not meant to be hidden. We are your past, your present, your future.’
The last, Kirego, the Sophist Soothsayer , a phantom netting of carved scarification over his diaphanous form that gleamed in the dim moonlight.
His lips never moved, but his voice was inside Ki’Remi’s skull, filling every inch of his mind.
‘You will call on us; when you do, we will answer.’
With no warning, they all snapped away.
Ki’Remi knifed up in his chair, eyes dilated, sweat pouring down his face.
He heaved, his ragged breaths the only sound on a terrace that was silent once more.
The stars above winked, but they gave him no answers.
His heart thundered in his chest, exhaling hard.
His fingers twitched. His body was his own again.
Still, he heard their utterances lingering, whispering from the edges of the unseen.
Ki’Remi exhaled, running a hand over his face.
Why fokkin’ them? Why now?
His jaw clenched as his pulse thrummed with the force of an intensity he was not confident he had control over.
He had spent years suppressing them.
Ignoring them.
It was clear now that time was at an end.