Pick up the sword.
Without putting any thought into it, she picked up the sword in front of her. And the shield.
And the shield.
Turning, she found a monstrous being. Skin like ash and face behind a brass mask. Not a human, but a mockery of it. There was something taunting on the mask's face, she couldn't explain what. It laughed at her, yes, it laughed. It thought her lesser, inferior. It wanted to do things to her, and to everything else.
She looked at the land, one of crimson trees and golden grass. In the distance, mountains that reached Heaven. Who would possibly harm that land? Then, her gaze returned on it.
Kill.
Hatred now poured into her being. Yes, that thing, it deserved to die. All goodness, all sweetness, abandoned her youthful face.
She, who had never held either a sword or a shield in her life, confidently approached the taunting beast and, with a swing of her shield, knocked it to the ground. By the time it had turned back towards her, his long knife pointed towards her, the blade had already sunk deep inside its chest. A terrifying shriek filled the air, then it collapsed to ash.
You are not finished.
She wasn't. Dozens, hundreds like it fell, entire kingdoms liberated and bells tolling in her praise.
Day after day, week after week, month after month, and through it all, that warm, compassionate fire within, alien and still familiar, gave her everything she needed to face these demons; emotions, sensations, knowledge, instincts, all she needed was to just let go, and she would be its instrument.
Then, she opened her eyes.
Where was she?
Grey walls, recycled air... a sterile environment.
In front of her, a man of indefinite age thoughtfully rubbed a handkerchief on her forehead. "You have slept for three days", he said, emotionless.
In the split second it took her to realize what was going on, she jumped from her position, instinctively getting away from him. Her breath was heavy. "You're sweating", he said, motionless. He didn't expect this.
Her hand reached for her forehead. It was true, she was as wet as a fountain. Hot, too. Fever?
Noticing her silent stillness, the man approached her again, rubbing again her forehead. "Who are you? Where am I?", she asked, still confused. "I'm Robert, and this is Sandur", he said, his hand back on her forehead. "Sandur?", she laughed. She didn't even recall having made her way there. "Sandur" he dryly confirmed.
Impossible. She remembered... wait, what did she remember? She remembered Gaia, the rebellion against the Enclave, the interrogations of prisoners, the flight, and then... that dream, one in which she never fell into. Where did she go after Gaia? Why was she even there?
Robert noticed her confusion. "You came here three days ago. You came to my bar, ordered some rice with pork, rented a room, and never left it since". An attempt to refresh her memory, but one met by a perplexed silence. "You might have a very minor case of severe memory loss", he sarcastically concluded.
Three days ago? She could swear the dream lasted weeks, even months. Not that time follows any logic in dreams, and still... that was the only thing she remembered, after Gaia.
Robert once again squeezed her for responses. "What's the last thing you remember?". By now her forehead had ceased sweating, and he could now afford the needed distance. "I..." she began to stagger, even sitting in her bed. Remembering made her head spin, but in the end, she coughed an answer. "I remember the rebellion on Gaia, against the Enclave. We were receiving a steady flow of recruits from the refugees in the plantations, we were interrogating prisoners occasionally and uh...". "Go on...". "Yes, so basically, I was in charge of the interrogations in a small base, and... I might've pulled too many teeth". "Uh-huh...", Robert nodded, pensively. A smile was forming on his face, as if he was enjoying the story. He wanted to laugh, but he felt that there was a minimum of decorum to keep. She noticed it, and she continued as if nothing. "And... yes, they didn't like it, so they sent me away. The other memories are, well, straight out of an ancient epic". "What kind?", he inquired. "Uh... hmmm", she puffed, struggling to find the words. "There was this land, surreal, very colorful, and these demonic beings, and I slayed them, one after another. And massive bells" her arms stretched out, as if instinctively representing their size "tolled every time. I was some sort of hero, with sword and shield. I don't think I could even hold them right in reality, but I had the skill somehow". "Sounds like a story from a fantasy novel". "Tell me about it", she laughed. "And yet, it's all in my memory, as if I lived it".
The man could only be skeptic. "I highly doubt it", he laughed. "Then what?". "Well, either you remained stuck in some hypno-adventure, you know what those bands can do when hacked, or..." .
She interrupted him. "I don't play videogames", she said, visibly outraged at the implication. Playing games for young boys... how... un-her. "Do I look like the kind of person who enjoys that stuff?".
The man was now on the defensive. "No, no", he said as he shook and waved his hands, attempting to placate her. "We haven't even found any bands, either here or in your ship...". "Of course you didn't", she scoffed. "Well, that leaves implants. Memory implants, I mean. Someone must have decided to play this prank on you".
And no reason for it was forthcoming. Maybe that was why it was spun as a prank. But none of this made any sense. Did those months really pass, or was her conception of time altered as well?
Once again, his inquiries helped her.
"You said you were on Gaia pulling teeth out of Enclave prisoners before all this, but this doesn't make any sense." He could only find her silent nod. "The Enclave left Edinburgh like..." one moment of pensive silence, as the man made some calculus in his mind. "a year ago. What have you been doing all this time?". "Slaying demons, I guess", she laughed. "Slaying demons...", he scoffed. The logical answer was only one at this point. "You said that you were playing this videogame...". "I don't play videogames", she interrupted him. "Yes, yes, you don't play videogames. Fair enough, you were in this... fantasy world of yours, for a year or so. The only answer I can get out of this is that your memories have been replaced with this fantasy. How, by whom, or why, I can't say, and maybe this is also where I should draw the line with you". "You draw the line?", she spat. "I mean that I don't intend to go past this. It's your problem now".
The rage that had built up in her, an unmotivated one she couldn't explain, finally exploded as her fist flied towards him, promptly parried by his wrist. "You'd be dealing with a heavy weight, three times champion in the Taus".
Unsatisfied, she threw another punch, also parried. The man now looked at her with an air of challenge. If she wanted a fist fight, he'd give it to her, and he'd leave her a bloody pulp.
Having catched the message, she gave up.
Realizing there was nothing else to do with this guest, the man rose from his bed. "Now shoo, all rooms are occupied and there's a customer who's been waiting for yours for half a hour now".
Staring at him, frustrated, she reached for her credit chip. "How much?". "Fifty credits". "Fifty credits...", she murmured, shaking her head. "Most useful Gaian ever...". "Look, I can see you're confused and you went through a lot, but I'm not the kind of person to fix your issues".
She now gave him a pout as she half-heartedly sent him the sum, and it was then that, maybe moved out of a little bit of regret, Robert tried to salvage her situation. As much as he could without getting into a story he wanted no part in, anyway. "Tell Jeanne in Section Three I sent you, she's a good brain-squeezer and she'll hear everything you have to tell her and treat you, all for free, she owes me one. She also has the machinery to tell whether a memory is real or not, though I would bet both my very-much-active testicles yours are constructed". "I'll bet...", she sarcastically nodded. She was on her way for the door when she heard his voice again, from behind. "And girl", he said, attracting her attention as she turned. "I can see you're good-hearted, but work on your temper, okay?".
Good point, the punches were absolutely uncalled for, and the entire rage that had built up within her made no sense. She wasn't like that, hell she was known for her near-glacial manners on Gaia. What was happening to her? He owed him an apology. "Look, I'm sorry for the punches, I'm just really confused and...". "None taken, I can see you're still in some state of shock. That is exactly why I'm telling you to take care of yourself, and see Jeanne as soon as you can". "Thanks", she smiled. "My pleasure. Now get out of here, the other fellow's waiting".
Right outside of her room, in fact. She smiled, without hiding her embarassment, and made her way to the elevator.
She really needed help.
"I don't know what to say". Jeanne's final words of resignation.
She had ran the test four times by now, her patient having to recollect everything every single time. Not that it annoyed her. They had even taken a couple hours for a lunch break, after all, three days of sleep would empty any stomach and Sanam was ravenous.
Still, filling that stomach didn't help. True, true, true, true, every single time. "I wish I could do more for you...". "If it's an implant, it's the perfect one", the patient observed. "Indistinguishable from a real memory". "Can't be", Jeanne remarked. Couldn't be. But what if, in some way, it wasn't? What if Sanam's mind had constructed that memory to cover up something? Something that, clearly, she didn't want to remember. Stranger things had happened and, in spite of her girl-next-door face, she wasn't clean, couldn't be or she wouldn't be there among criminals, no matter how idealistic. How to tell her? "You have about a year of your life to recover, and I don't know how to help you. Whatever might have happened in this year or so, whatever you might have done, is not something I can pull out of your head". "I understand". "I'm sure you still have leads to follow. We could ask Skye and Islay, and all the other bases. Or maybe you returned home for only God knows what reason, you said you're a Londoner". "Born and raised", her confirmation. "Christ, that's little better than either Leeds-that-was or Nottingham if you were born in the crap parts", Jeanne observed "But yes, I'm sure that you will find an answer. You only have to know yourself if you want a lead. Where would you go? What would you do? Some detective work is always good to keep the mind trained". She could only hope that the final joke was welcomed by the patient, and thankfully it was.
Having nothing else to do there, Sanam could only leave the place. "Jeanne, thank you, for everything", she said as she hugged the woman. "Now, let's avoid sentimentalisms", Jeanne laughed. "It's the least I could do. I can assure you, even a negative answer like this one was of immense help. At least we know what it isn't". "How do you know it's real?". "I'm willing to trust the machine. It's from Cambridge, correct?", she inquired. "Y-yes, part of my old job there", Jeanne confirmed. "But how do you expect it to be real?". "It has to be, one way or another. Maybe there's no implant, maybe I'm the problem".
"If she understood what I think of her, she catched up quickly, and swifltly. I didn't even leave clues for her", Jeanne thought to herself. "I...wouldn't frame it like that", she remarked. Hiding her thoughts was becoming harder, and it showed.
Sanam smirked for a moment, then she took out her credit chip. "Just... how much?" she begged. "Robert sent you, this was free of charge". "I insist, this was too... helpful to remain unpaid. I want to cover at least the electrical costs to keep this thing turned on", she laughed. "Ten. Symbolic price". "I'm not paying only ten", she said loudly. Jeanne gestured her to lower her voice, which only prompted Sanam to repeat the same sentence in a lower tone, almost a loud whisper as she furtively looked around for any beholder. "I'm not paying only ten". "I insist, this was...". "You know what? Twelve hundred", Sanam said as she started typing the numbers. "What? You must be...".
A beep before she could finish, then Sanam interrupted her. "There. Too late", she smiled.
The notification immediately arrived on Jeanne's chip. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, twelve hundred credits. Keeping that thing on might have been expensive, but that sum could more than cover the costs. Hell, she had never received so much for only a service. "I... thanks, really". There was a woman who would be loyal to the end to her friends, an observation which could raise her admiration for the patient. "So... do you know what you're going to do now?". "I do have an idea".
Two hours later
While small, the hangar was full of life. Sandur was in a strategic position, after all, and sabotage of the project at Harris was a key activity of the movement, remaining undeterred even in the face of BAF's arrival in the system which, if anything, had become an ace factory. Few words of the Maquis at Charost in the outer reaches of the system, which apparently had no interest in alienating the Sirian Houses.
Reaching the Jackdaw she had departed Gaia with was not hard, but dealing with its sight was something different. The whole hull was marked by blasts and burns and the suspensors were broken, the thing was literally rusting on the ground. How did she even land?
But the most surprising thing was the complete lack of weapons, an insufficiency which, there in the Taus, would be fatal in most cases.
With the ladder being one of the few things still in decent conditions, she climbed in the cockpit and put on her helmet.
Guns, not there. Engines, two out of three were unserviceable owing to clear issues with the power plant. The IFF glitched out, she could only guess that accessing that base would have required a long chat, relying on the standard automatic procedure was no option. The thing was an unsalvageable wreck.
The ship's log couldn't possibly have been her own. What could she have possibly done in Baffin?
Other independent worlds like Coronado and Inverness appeared, then a line of Omegas that ended in Omega-55, contested among communists and cannibals. The entries before it were corrupted, but she could only guess they were Edge Worlds. Theta, perhaps? Pygar would have welcomed those with her skills. Certainly she would have avoided the Cretans like the plague, after what had transpired in New London's orbit.
What was clear was that in those months, she hadn't merely left Gaia, but the movement as a whole. What she was reading was just no Gaian's log.
She fell on her seat like a stone, pensive. Were these the answers she wanted? What was she even expecting?
She looked at her credit chip, finding it relatively well-filled. Millions of credits, she had certainly been active all this time, doing... whatever.
Her sight turned to the closest ship in the hangar, an old Chameleon. Yes, that'd do.
Stopping there was not an option, she had to know more, and that thing would have helped her, after investing some money into it.
Now she knew the meaning of it.
The demons, the kingdoms, the instincts within... the entire dream and every aspect of it. No, not a dream: her actions, her service. Her recent past.
It made sense now. In fact, she remembered all of it.
Every word, every feeling, every action and every thought between Gaia and Sandur. All her own. Sanam had merely forgot. She had to, so that the Light could properly brighten the Darkness that was Sandur and its people. If she would have remained awake, assertive as she was, they might have suspected, thus the great reset of Sanam's mind. But, now that she had regained their trust, she could safely re-emerge. To inspire her, to protect her. To guide her.
Upon realizing the implications of all this, a stray thought escaped her mind.
Abomination.
By others and her own old self, this is what she would have been considered.
She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and a flood of memories befell upon her mind. Two genocides she had witnessed and another which almost happened and that she helped prevent, in her own small capacity, with countless others. Worse yet, millions who died in the second had barely survived the first.
What for?
Ideology?
Glory?
Resources?
And, when this wasn't happening, they took. Oh, how they took, how much they took. They forced scarcity upon themselves just so they could justify taking more.
Scarcity, with the universe within their reach.
What an absurd people...
She remembered it now, the disgust she felt before Sandur, the horror of having to deal with them. The pleasure she felt in seeing them burn, and whether right or wrong, at least she wasn't killing her own. Not anymore, anyway.
Too different, now, souls of a different quality.
Stupid, petty, evil, hearts dark as night with next to no exception.
No cause could truly elevate them no matter how noble they made it look like, how could they? All causes had been constructed, excuses.
She was not the abomination. She was part of something beautiful, she was something beautiful. They were the abomination.
This was the heart's rebuttal.
Recognizing its defeat, the mind embraced the new perspective.
Now another trial started, and that pulse came from above as much as from within; to endure them without killing them.
A great imposture in which she would have played the part of her own old self; the others needed to know how much of a threat they represented, so close to home.
Who had she been again?
Sanam Abbasi, Londoner, college graduate, enthusiastic supporter of the Gaian movement towards whom she even owed her parents' life (speaking of which, it had been a long time), they had paid for their trip to the relative safety of Nottingham shortly before the Blitz.
Idealistic Sanam, who picked up fights with others in college and truly thought Heaven could be reached through violence.
This was her script, and only she could play the part.