My Cyclops was closing in on the Aurora, at breakneck speed (or as close to breakneck speed as the vessel's weight would allow). It was apparent, however, that Ollos Silver was fast approaching the wreckage as well. With a signal as strong as Malla's being broadcast across the planet, he was sure to pick up on it, and even if he didn't his many spies amongst the Islanders would have reported back to him with the same news. I and my crew were out to save my brother; he was out to put a permanent end to him, and most likely me with him. Luckily, he wasn't the only one with spies, reporting behind enemy lines. It was unfortunate, however, that ours thought Silver's crusade more just, and decided to side with him at the last minute. Weapons and gadgets that he had designed to blow up in Ollos's face were altered at the last minute to truly give the maniac the upper hand. Reports told us, however, that our traitorous little spy was killed by Ollos, who was still under the impression that he was one of ours. Of course he would still use the weapons, if he was able to catch up to us with a fleet of his size. The only question was, of course, how did he expect to breach the hull of our Cyclops and get hands-on with the crew, and my Island Guard? I had left everyone of importance back at our home, so if the operation was deemed a failure the only person lost would be me and the crew. Zanos Millen was still on the island, as was my son, as was everyone who I thought to be important. I didn't think Ollos would share this strategy.
The road to the Aurora was quiet, and tense; I could hear the crew's muscles tensing up beneath the skin. There was only one man on the sub that appeared as calm as when he had boarded; Commander Skalve. Skalve had crashed with me on the Lunar Vessel, and even then I had known him to be a man with nerves forged from steel, wits as adept as that of a cat. When the hull squealed and cracked around us, and all of my soldiers and crew thought the titanium would cave in and we'd all drown, he stood as still as if a stasis blast had hit him. After the massacre of Obraxis Prime, Skalve was sent to kill all of the maniacs who still ran around butchering farmers and miners. He saved Ollos's life on that planet. For that I had half a mind to strangle him where he stood, but I refrained from killing the man. I legitimately would have, if circumstances proved different.
Soon enough, sirens began to blare, and red flashing lights began to spin from the roofs. "To your stations!" I commanded the crew. All of the lights were put out, and the energy that would have gone to them sent instead to the engine. Ollos was near. No doubt his sirens were whirring like ours. Skalve pulled out his stasis rifle, complaining all the while that he was used to shooting people with real bullets, and not these shoddy lasers. Now he was going to make up for the mistakes of his past. He was going to kill Ollos Silver, and save my brother; I was going to make sure he was the one to do the deed. If it wasn't him, it would be Malla, and if not Malla me. Or, if he lived for long enough to see it happen, Jack would halt Ollos's heart. I hoped it didn't take that long for him to be switched off.
Ollos was feared. I have no idea why; what reason did people have to fear him? Of course, I wasn't there at Obraxis Prime, where Ollos spent most of his life, but I was told it was a dark, mysterious, unfriendly place full of unmatched perils and dangers. Only a truly dangerous man could brave such a harsh environment, but Ollos didn't seem brave, or dangerous for that matter. Skalve told me that, when he found him, Ollos was destroying the Obraxis murderers, shooting each and every one of them in the eye. When he ran out of bullets, he resorted to a knife. He apparently mistook Skalve for a bandit, and gave the man the deep and nasty scar that now sits above and below his left eye. Not that impressive, I always thought. If Ollos was truly that good, Skalve would have no eye at all. Of course I believe people when they tell stories of Ollos's ferocity; all I prayed for is that I didn't get to see it in action.
Many of my mercenaries swarmed to the ladder at the front of the vessel, but the more intelligent ones, such as Skalve and his friend-group, decided to make their way to the engine rooms. There there were two ladders to make their way down to the exit. The Aurora loomed over us, and I'd be damned if we lost this fight. I couldn't see Ollos's ship with my eyes, but on the radar it blipped clear as day. Closer it came, and closer and closer until I was surprised I couldn't see it. Then there was an almighty crash, and the sound of titanium breaking in a powerful explosion of creaking metal and clanging nuts and bolts. Then there was the sound of water slowly gushing in. Then the sound of the engines spluttering to a halt and dying. Then there was the sound of screaming mercenaries in the engine room, and finally the sound of all of the emergency doors sliding to a close. I quickly made my way to the centre of the Cyclops, where my Seamoth was stationed. If all went pearshaped, I would hop into the moth and glide to my brother myself.
Mercenaries surrounded me. I heard the faint banging of people hitting the door, wanting to leave the room. The Cyclops had collided with our own in a fantastic display of a kamikaze attack. "Help!" I heard them screaming. "Help! Help us!"
But no help would come. Not when Ollos Silver got there first.
Finally. It had been such a long and taxing journey; the entire crew was tired and battered and near beaten. We were beginning to run out of food, we were beginning to run out of water, and much of my crew was beginning to run out of faith. On this journey I was almost killed seven times, but all of these assassins got what was coming to them. Even my engineer was an Islander spy, but his gadgets were welcome. But now we were ready. We were about to hop back onto the Aurora, slaughter Malla where he stood, if it even was Malla, and feed Sasha his eyes, and make her drink the marrow from his bones.
There was just one small matter I had to take care of first.
We had rammed at full speed into the enemy Cyclops's engine room. Of course, their hull was breached as if we were the knife and they were the cake, but ours was heavily reinforced, and nigh unbreakable. All that could be seen of this collision was a small dent on the underside of the submarine, and it didn't have a negative affect on... well, just about anything. I slipped on my gauntlet, I readied my heat-vision goggles and I took my blaster off safety. I wasn't going to kill Sasha; I was going to take her, and press her face to Malla's dead and rotting one. She would know pain, as I have learned to love it.
I stood above the small round hatch at the base of the Cyclops. If I listened closely, I could hear men outside screaming. "Help us!" they wailed. No one will help you now, Islanders, I wanted to bark. Not when I find you first. The hatch was loose; I had planned this attack for thirty of the hundred miles we had travelled, and readied the ship for my little performance. I grinned, wondering what look they'd dart at me when they saw me. I was dressed in dark, almost black, clothing; if not, the darkest shade of grey there ever was or will be. I wore a pitch black cloak, designed to give me presence.
It was time. I stretched the fingers of my gauntlet-wearing hand, and fastened my index around the blaster's trigger. I raised my right foot, and with one powerful stomp the hatch flew open. I dropped five feet when it dropped me, and I landed on the engine room floor of the Cyclops with an enormous thud, and a splash. Seawater rushed past my feet, seeping in through gaps in the walls. "Open fire!" I heard a familiar voice yell. It was that damned traitor, Skalve. He saved me on Obraxis Prime from maniacs who would feast on my tongue, and now he sought to kill me. I'd show him how it felt.
Before any of their fingers could press on the triggers of their... stasis rifles, or their propulsion cannons, I slammed the palm of my gauntlet into the floor. It left a small, blue, glowing circle on the ground that stayed for half a second before exploding upwards, creating a blue, rectangular shield in front of me. Skalve yelled another command, but I was to quick with the trigger. Five, I counted in the room. With four shots, four were dead, and Skalve was attempting to pry open the door, which was slammed shut at the other end of the room. When this failed he banged on it more and more, hoping it would open. He turned around to check on me, not anticipating I would already be a foot away from him. I grabbed his face with my gauntlet, and began to crush. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed for help and mercy, but neither came for him, nor were given the chance to. When I heard a crack, and blood was seeping from his mouth and eyes, I thought it right to stop. This Cyclops is likely not going anywhere fast, I made peace with myself. I threw him back, and he slammed back-first into the engine, or at least one half of the engine.
I grabbed the side of the door with my gauntlet, and slid it open effortlessly. Three more mercenaries were in this room, and a Seamoth, slowly lowering into the ocean. Inside it I could see her. She began to panic, pressing buttons on the dash to try and make the thing lower faster. I quickly put an end to two of the gunsmen in the room, but the other hid behind the Seamoth. This was fine for me. I shot and shot at the glass in front of Sasha's face. It began to chip, and crack. I fired at the same spot (right in front of her damn ugly face) over and over and over again. The glass was just about to break when the Seamoth dropped into the water. Instead of the glass, I shot the cowering mercenary clean in the head for a quick death.
I stood at the lip of the hole in the floor, where the Seamoth had so briskly made its escape. I watched it sail off, through the water, out of my sight. One of my own mercenaries ran up behind me. "What now, my lord?"
"Ready my moth," I commanded. "She'll be dead by nightfall."
The entire crew had perished at the hand of a single man. I wished to see Ollos Silver's true might, and to my dismay I did. He annihilated my entire crew using only a single heat blaster. There was only one conceivable way he could have gotten his hands on a weapon like that, only one engineer that came to mind who could craft such a deadly thing. That traitorous bastard. If only our spy had stayed on our side; perhaps none of this would have ever happened. Perhaps Ollos would be filled with knife wounds, bleeding on deck, ready to be the bait of stalkers and reapers and much worse creatures.
"Dammit!" I screamed in the cockpit. The accompanying Islander cyclops had fallen shortly after the command vessel; an enemy moth had flown straight into the front of the sub, sending water gushing in, drowning most of the crew. I had only stepped in it once, on the day of its completion. It had taken four days to build, and was slightly smaller than the command ship, but the inside was arguably cosier, with less people running around. It was to act as a flagship when we reached the base of the Aurora, to lure out reapers and other creatures so that we could slip on by. Of course these plans required thorough revision.
Suddenly I was struck with a memory; another moth was aboard that ship. I patched into the comms, searching for a signal and finding nothing. I waited for a long, long time. My seamoth continued to speed towards the Aurora, towards Malla. Then the comms picked up a (albeit faint) signal.
"Come in! This is Sasha Corren, do you read?" There was no reply; only heavy static. "This is Sasha Corren! Come in! Are you there?!" It was at this point I decided the seamoth too had flooded. Perhaps it wasn't static after all, but the currents crashing against the moth's microphone. It was a lot to stomach; I was out here, alone, at the base of the Aurora, my only company being reapers and the most dangerous man on the planet. Perhaps he isn't, I began to ponder. Power comes in its own unique shapes and sizes. Ollos has a great deal of physical strength. Zanos Millen is loyal to the end, and here resides his power. Zenn Codett... God I hope he is alive... he is intelligent, and strategic. He could beat Ollos, if the time came.
Suddenly, a voice began to bark out of the comms. "Commander, this is Lieutenant Ovel! The Redemption's entire crew is dead or without hope of survival! I took the vessel's moth before the enemy could! Where should I go, commander?!"
"Follow me into the Aurora, Lieutenant! We'll rendezvous there!"
"Are you sure Ollos won't find us there? If he surrounds the wreckage, we're as good as dead!"
Ovel was stubborn, and obviously had exhausted his last breaths of hope, but I wasn't going to let that stop us. If the Alterra manuals were to be believed, survival is much easier with a friend by your side. "Lieutenant, listen to me. If we die on the Aurora, know we died for a good cause. Yes, it may be our darkest hour, but it's also our finest. I'm going in, and I'm going to live it the best I can. Will you do the same, or will you crawl back home without hope, and without completion? Will you come with me?"
There was a moment of silence. "Yes," Ovel sighed. Then there was a deafening roar from outside the moth. It made me jump, and left me shaken for long after, as I knew what creature had made the sound. I heard it again, and the currents picked up. "Sasha! I see you! You need to go, now!" Ovel was in distress. It could mean two things; either the monster was closing in on me, or the reaper was. Either way it wouldn't be good. I sent my moth flying forwards as quickly as its propellers would allow. It hopped through the waters faster than I had ever felt it travel, the hull shaking with the velocity. Then I made a mistake; I turned to look back, to see what was chasing me, and it cost speed to do so. I slowed down, and saw it. There were two seamoths, one close to the surface, and one near the mouth of the enormous reaper speeding towards us. As this seamoth got closer and closer, I saw that Ollos was its pilot. But the reaper's eyes weren't on him; they were on me.
I sped to the surface with extreme haste. Ollos carried on to the Aurora, and the reaper changed trajectory, swimming upwards to face me. The surface was closing in on me. The hull of the seamoth began to shake so hard I could feel breakfast churning inside my stomach, my heart rattling around in my chest. The surface came closer and closer,t he sun turning brighter and brighter until all I could see was a light shade of blue.
Then the moth burst out of the water. The hull stopped shaking, and I suddenly felt weightless. It flew at least thirty feet upward from the ocean below. Then I cracked the moth open. I unstrapped myself and jumped out. I turned to look at the water beneath me, and let myself fall, my limbs stretched as if I were a star. The water was completely blue, until I saw the reds and greens of a reaper's face form beneath the waves. The beast broke the surface, it's jaws open, ready to catch the moth as it fell. I was still falling. I was going to fall between the creature's top two mandibles, and before I reached them I turned myself in the air, so I was looking up at the clouds. The red claws fell past me, and as quick as a bullet I latched onto them both with my free hands.
The creature roared. I now had a firm grip on the reaper's scythes. I tried to find footing along its spine, but the scales were too slippery, and my boots fell away as I awkwardly tried to get balance. The seamoth fell into the reaper's jaws, and its claws came down on it, lunging me forward as they snapped forwards. There was another roar, and the reaper crashed back into the ocean. The currents pressed against my face, but I kept my grip. Now that the beast's back had levelled out I was able to find footing. The world was blue once again.
Then I tugged on the claw in my right hand extremely hard. The creature's head tilted in this direction, and began to steer right. I pulled even harder and it turned sharply in that direction. Then it sped along. I steered it more and more, keeping it stabilised as it tried to shake the moth in its jaws. It's like horseriding, I told myself. Only leagues more terrifying.
I heard Ovel laugh through his moth's hull, and it made me smile. I thought I'd have a problem holding my breath, but when the adrenaline kicked in I was fine. I wasn't going to outrun Ollos in my seamoth, but if there was one thing that could...
Respect for Sasha has risen. That is ridiculously badass...is that a young reaper though, for her to be able to hold both its mandibles?
More! Once the Islanders master reaper riding, there will be no stopping them.
Salt gushed into me eyes like bullets. The world was deep blue, save for the monster I swam upon, its back as red and vicious as flame. It snapped and snapped to be free, but I wasn't going to let go for the world. I held on tight, and whenever I felt its body veering one way I tugged it the other. Whenever it tried to reach the surface I pushed it back down, and whenever it grew hungry and wanted to feast off of the creatures below I heaved it upwards. If this beast was ever to catch up with Ollos, he'd be as good as dead.
I feigned courage, when really the situation shook me to the marrow of my bones. The cold water wasn't the only thing that made my teeth rattle. One of these creatures patrolled the base of the island we lived on; how many survivors had it torn apart, I wondered. Although that creature was a hulking behemoth compared to this smaller reaper, its danger could be estimated. The first chance I got, I was going to bail off of this thing's slippery back. If there was one thing I wouldn't let this creature do, it was do my dirty work for me. The reaper could tear apart the moth by all means, but the man, the monster inside of it was mine.
Suddenly, objects erupted from the murk; enormous beams of rusted, black metal rose from the foggy blue below. The leviathan was about to swim straight into one of them, and my eyes pained me so much I barely even saw them myself. I hauled at the right mandible of the creature and it steered that direction, narrowly clipping the metal. It gave a fearsome roar, and shook its head. It's left claws were bleeding; a stream of red followed the leviathan wherever it went, and the cloud only grew larger. It gave a sympathetic growl. "Come on," I whispered to the reaper. "You can do it."
Then I saw a bank of metal near the surface. I pulled at both of the terrifying creature's mandibles as hard as I could. As I tugged at the left claw, it spewed a greater amount of blood than it ever had done before. The creature moaned in pain, and erupted out of the water. I felt weightless once again, It flew a dozen metres out of the water, and when it began its descent I lost hold of its pincers. It slammed against the titanium below, and I slapped against its scaly back, and slid down to the floor.
Red water ran down from the leviathan. It trickled past my hands and knees, coating them in a thick layer of salty blood. I tried to pick myself up. I thought I had footing, but when my left leg tried to lift the rest of my body it slipped, and I splashed against the stream of water beneath me. The creature moaned again. I pushed myself off the ground as quickly as I could, and this time I maintained balance. I quickly looked around, and saw further down the iron bank a moth, cracked open, the man inside long gone. Then I turned my attention to the reaper once again. It writhed in pain. I walked up to its head, and I raised my hand to touch it, to comfort it. I wanted it to be okay; it would kill me if it could, but surely if I were starving and a squirrel jumped on my back I'd do the same.
Then there was the crack of a pistol firing. Before my hand even reached the scales its head was caved in by the blast. The creature was completely silenced, and slowly slipping down into the waters. I turned to see what had ended the beast, only to find Ollos standing there, his barrel smoking. "And Malla Corren's sister became so desperate," he yelled with a smile on his face. He began to walk around on the titanium with his arms stretched outwards, and spoke like a presenter, as if he were on a stage. "That she turned to wildlife for help!" Then his mannerisms and expressions became a lot more personal. He looked me in the eye, and lowered his arms. "Not even the reaper can pull you from death now." Ollos grinned.
He raised his gun. I dashed forward. The water beneath me made me trip, and a laser blast was sent whizzing over my head. I ran as quickly as I could, and before I knew it I was at his feet. I lunged forward, and grabbed him around the legs. He fell to the floor, and from what I heard he dropped his gun. I heard it skid across the metal, down the titanium bank. I got on my hands and knees, keeping Ollos firmly where I needed him. I raised a fist, and my knuckles landed on his cheek. A tooth rattled across the floor, and blood splattered against the metal. Ollos laughed. I threw another punch at the same cheek, and three more teeth exploded from his mouth. Then his large, warm hands wrapped around my neck, quicker than a boa constrictor could grasp its prey. His bloody mouth tightened, and his rage was painted on his face in red. He shook with the force he put into his fingers. He rolled me over, and my back crashed against the metal. He left me there and scrambled to reach the gun, but I quickly grabbed his ankle, my nail digging into his skin. He screamed in pain and fell over, his head slamming onto the floor. He tried to crawl away but I brought his ankle to my mouth and I drove my teeth into his skin. He screamed even more, and bashed the ground in his pain.
The moisture I felt in my mouth could have been blood, or it could have been sea water still clinging to Ollos's trousers. Either way, I felt salt seep down my throat, and lodge in between my yellowing teeth. Somehow, Ollos wriggled free, and slid down the bank to his weapon. He snatched it up and aimed it at me. Where he grinned before, his red mouth displayed only a furious anger. A river of blood ran from his left nostril, and more came from the side of his head where it had crashed against the cold metal. Now he limped wherever he went. The dead leviathan behind him, a crater still in its face, was looking eerily at me with its glossy green eyes. It looked like Ollos was about to say something, but he shook his head, his eyes squinting as if he were about to cry. I pushed myself up.
And he pulled the trigger.
An intense pain rushed through my knee then. At first it felt like an injection; a small amount of pain driven into one area, in this case my kneecap. Then the pain receded, though I was still rolling on the floor. Then the pain returned, and worse than it had ever been. Now it wasn't just the kneecap that hurt, but the entire leg. I grasped it, and when I took my hands away they were covered in fresh blood. Ollos staggered over to me, and looked down at me with his tired, grey eyes, full of hate and anger and bitterness. All of his emotions showed, but his weariness and fury burned more fiercely than the rest. He frowned. It was strange to see him frown; he was usually so maniacal and giddy. Now all he was was menacing.
"You'll die here." He said coldly and out of breath. "And your brother will die here." I began to slide helplessly down the bank. "I'll make sure your son dies here too." He looked down at his gun, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. He looked some more, and eventually threw the weapon into the water. "A gun won't be brutal enough for Malla. This is me saving my energy." He limped up the Aurora. I didn't see; I was trying to keep my blood inside my body.
"Malla!" I screamed. Ollos continued as if he hadn't heard. "Ovel!" I wailed. "Someone help me!" I said. "Help me!" I repeated. "Help me!"
It had taken a whole four hours to find my way to the hulking black spine of the Aurora; I had found in a janitor's closet some materials to patch up the wound in my ankle, where Sasha had dug her teeth into my skin. I felt her teeth loosed and crack and shudder as she pushed harder and harder down, but it all paid off because she somehow reached the skeleton, and my ankle was fractured. A cloth did the trick for about half an hour (enough time to reach the living quarters of the ship), but it became so blood-soaked that and soggy that it began to flay and decay. I had to abandon it, and I resorted to something primitive; I found myself in a dark corridor, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue, five less teeth than I had set out with, and a trail of blood behind me. There were shafts of light (sunlight or otherwise) beaming down through small holes in the ceiling, and rubble all around me. I found a titanium plate as large as the front of my clenched fist. In each of its corners was a small hole where screws had come loose and fallen away. It took five minutes to find all four, and another ten to hammer the plate in place over my wound. I used a rock to beat in the nails, and the bleeding stopped (the nails dug in cleanly, leaving no space for any more blood to seep out.
I limped further and further through the ship until I came to a rusty, square, decrepit room, with plants and ferns dangling from a hole in the ceiling; a hole with a ladder jutting down from one side. A whole half hour was spent trying to climb up that accursed thing, but eventually I was able to haul myself up into the sunlight. The stories were true; a whole forest had sprouted on the Aurora's back. White and black trees with dark green leaves grew everywhere, and towering above them all in the distance was the bridge. It was enormous, and a grand display of humanity's brilliance. But looking at it saddened me. A whole generation ago, when the Aurora set sail, my friend Hollister had been at the reigns. He was surely dead now, though; I hadn't heard anything from him in years and years.
But this lifeform was the main priority. I had wished so badly for it to be Malla, but now I wanted it to be anyone but him. I was too injured to face the most respected and feared man that had ever walked (or swam, I suppose) this planet. If he had survived stab-wounds as deadly as he they were, what else could he withstand? I was now beginning to wish I hadn't thrown the gun in the water. Then there was a buzz in my pocket. It was my P.C.R (Portable Communications Relay); Selwyn, the captain of the Interception (my Cyclops) was calling. I lucked the device from my pocket and answered the call.
"You should have contacted me sooner," I said as cool as I could.
"Yes sir! Sorry sir, but another Islander Cyclops arrived shortly after you left, and we had no choice but to engage!"
They had three of them? "Impossible," I remarked. "They were only in possession of two Cyclops, our scanners told us so."
"Spies also informed us that another was under construction at their Island," Selwyn told me more sternly than I would have liked. He would regret that someday; I didn't like being talked to as if I were stupid. "It's possible this Cyclops was completed."
"There's no way in hell that submarine could move quick enough to catch up with Sasha's; it would arrive three days late." This was all very confusing; Selwyn really wasn't explaining it clearly.
"This Cyclops's engines were different from the others', sir, as were its turbines. It moved three times as fast as the others. In my mind there's only one explanation for this."
He paused, annoyingly. "Spit it out; I ain't got all day!" He remained silent. He was about to see my bad side.
"Jacob," was all he said. I knew exactly what he meant. Jacob Sand and Jeckon whatever-his-last-name-was had slipped away a month earlier. I hoped it wasn't to join the Islanders, he was the smartest man I knew besides dead old Jacky, but it turned out he had.
"Well I suppose it doesn't matter anymore; the sub's gone, so...." There was another silence. "Selwyn, you're about to tell me Sand's death-sub is gone or we are going to fall out."
He stuttered down the mic. "n-n-negative..." His voice was extremely shaky and irritating to listen to. As it always has been, I thought. "w-well, sort of negative... the, uhh... the Interception fell... I escaped in the moth, and eight accompanying moths are alongside me."
"Oh, Selwyn, you bad bad boy!" I yelled. "A good captain goes down with his ship! You left your crew to die in there instead, and you think you're the hero in this little story? The Interception, the largest ship in these seas, has been destroyed and the Islander's monster-of-a-sub is still out there! I hope it gets you all! I have more important things to be doing with my time than talking to traitors." I hung up the call. I stared at the P.C.R for a good minute before collapsing to my knees and yelling in anger at the sky. I threw the P.C.R into a tree trunk and it shattered into one thousand shimmering pieces. I sat there defeated.
And then there was a voice.
"I too was stabbed in the back," it gargled. I turned my head, but all I saw was the inky blackness beneath the trees. The sun was setting, and the sky was a fiery orange. "Many moons ago now. I was stabbed in the back by people I would call friends." There was the sound of the soles of feet thudding against soil."Tell me, Ollos; where are your friends now? I am surrounded by my friends."
"Bullshit," I spat. "There's no one else here. You're the last one; the only person alive on the Aurora."
"Yes," the voice grumbled. "Although It is able to bring corpses back from death, It got me before I died." I heard the padding of feet again. Then I heard another pair walking towards me, and another behind me, and more and more all around me. "I haven't a clue how It found Its way to the Aurora, but I am glad It did." Then an arm shot from the blackness; an arm close to the ground. It was clawing at the soil, dragging a body along behind it. It was an arm as black as night, the skin hugging the bone, half decayed.
All along it were bulbous green growths.
Eventually the crawling man revealed himself. The eyes and face were familiar but unrecognisable to Ollos. Then a woman, decayed and covered in green spots, lumbered slowly out of the undergrowth. More and more of these zombie-like creatures came from the trees; some hopped on one foot, some dragged a legless torso out of the ferns, but all had stab wounds, and all were dead.
But this man was saying that he was alive. This thing that had caught the corpses, and made them move again, had perhaps found this man before he died. How strong would that make him?
"Who the hell are you?!" I demanded. "Show yourself!"
All of the lifeless stopped, and now there was only one pair of thudding feet I could hear, slowly coming closer. I saw the glowing green dots in the dark before the rest of the body, but I could already tell that his skin was pink and not decayed. He walked more like a human, but still with a hint of death in him. The figure coughed. He emerged from the darkness, and almost gave me a heart attack when I saw him. He looked into my eyes with a sadistic smile. This man was the only person I had ever feared more than Malla; the only reason I was in the situation I'm in now.
So Seth has been infected by something that lets him reanimate the dead? By the sounds of it, the same creature that infected the survivor on the iceberg some chapters previous.
Jack had been the first to notice, four days prior. Once every two days the iceberg finished a full rotation, and for one of those days we could make out a menacing green dot amongst the blue-white frost. We had no telescopes, no binoculars, no proper way of seeing what was going on over there. I didn’t think much of this; moss grew on surfaces all of the time. Whenever I told Jack this, he would remind me that moss couldn’t grow on ice, to which I always reminded him we were on an alien world where all laws we knew might be thrown out the window. “On Obraxis Prime,” I told him, “I’ve heard that veins of Arraxium burst out the ground like pillars, and regrow like trees.”
I calmed everyone down; told my Northerners to ignore the green dot until its danger became apparent (if it ever did become apparent). Many of my people sided with me, more than half. Jack, however, told everyone that the spot must be studied, and any threat must be eliminated before it is allowed to germinate. “We shall send a small research team to the iceberg, and they will collect samples of whatever that green patch is, and scout out the area for any signs of danger!” Ruthless wanted to bring our entire force to the iceberg, armed with whatever weaponry they could find, and destroy the entire block of ice. His pitch was met with less support than mine and Jack’s.
“As much as I feel a trip to the iceberg would be a waste of resources,” I sighed, “I refuse to let us fall into dictatorship. We are a democracy, and I shall allow you to decide on our course of action.”
Ruthless hadn’t a hope in hell of winning this vote; he was used to gunning down Kharaa, and needed an excuse to fight once again. He claimed that the green patch resembled the moss he saw when fighting Kharaa in a space station orbiting Saturn, but this was most likely a lie, I and Jack agreed. Jack, however, had a chance of winning this vote; if truth be told, he breathed our little group into existence; without him killing Seth, we would still be dancing on Malla’s grave, fighting Sasha and engaging in all that pointless conflict. It was an undesirable thought at best. The cuts on the shoulders used to be a sign of Seth’s leadership, but now it was something that all Northerners wore. It was a symbol of our history, and we learned to wear the scars with pride. But now, with two infants among us, it was a question of whether we should give them the scars as well.
All this says is that Jack has respect amongst the Northerners, and a good chance of winning this vote.
I, however, was their leader, and had been from the beginning. I was their saviour, their redemption. I was the sole survivor of the very first ship to crash here, the flagship of this entire shitshow. The Last Eclipse, some had taken to calling me. Whenever the great red moon swallowed up the sun, my people would scream my name. I told them to stop, but they wouldn’t. Somehow they have granted me, their pointless leader, more respect than the man who actually birthed our faction.
I brought this up in conversation with Jack once. We were talking about Sasha’s child, and whether he would grow to see his adult years, and whether he would see them here or in the Federation if he did. We spoke about the baby at length, and I told Jack things I would never tell anyone else about that child, things that nobody else knew. That conversation began with us being close friends, and ended with that friendship in tatters. I never should have told him. And I never should have reminded him about the respect I’m given, and that he deserves more.
The polls opened, and after a tense hour of voting it was all done. I counted up the votes. It took an hour more, and I had won by three. It was time to tell Jack.
Perhaps he saw it in my face, or in my walk, but he knew before I even reached him. “You don’t deserve this,” Jack scoffed. “You don’t deserve any of this.
“I know,” I told him. “But a vote’s a vote, there’s nothing I can do about it. I only won by three, Jack; that’s something for us both to be proud of.”
“I thought you were a good man,” he hissed, “but you’ve kept secrets from all of us. Were you planning on ever telling me, without me trying to convince you for a whole month? I saw you were hiding something; others are too dull to see, but secrets are painted on people’s faces the moment they promise to keep them. I saw it on you the day I crawled out of the water and spoke to you, and only now I’m getting it out of you.”
“I never said I was a good man,” I shook my head. “All that matters is that I’m trying to be. Please, Jack; do the same. Just try to see it in me; I want to do right by-”
“It won’t be long,” Jack interrupted. “Not long now until someone asks her the question. How will she answer?”
“Stop it.”
“You know how, don’t you? We both know.” We stared into each other’s eyes for five seconds. In his eyes I saw cruelty. I hope he saw the same in me. “The answer can topple empires, and crush leaders under the rubble. Who else knows, I wonder?” He began to walk away. “Someday they’ll know.”
The air was growing colder. Instead of rain softening the beaches, plain-white snow dusted it in a sort of strange beauty. The people scurried around, readying themselves for the true winter to begin. More than half of the Islanders began a huge hunt for fish, and in the first three days they had caught several hundred for the winter. The only people who stayed behind were those unfit to swim (the old, the ill and the pregnant, mostly). Sasha had been gone for seven weeks. She was assumed dead by most, and those that thought her still alive were conspiracy-nuts, and not in their right minds. They would likely die in the blizzards to come. If snow fell this harshly in late autumn, the heart of winter would spell death for most.
I was to keep Jack Corren under close guard. The baby was never happy; he only ever cried and slept and ate. All we ever did was put him to sleep, give him food and clean up the mess that followed. It was said that babies had a way of knowing the well-being of their parents, and I didn't take Jack's crying as a good omen at all. All we had heard of the voyage was of the battle between the enemy's Interception and Jacob Sand's Hydra. The Hydra had returned to port with tales of how the enemy fell, but of Sasha we knew nothing.
That was until a seamoth skid across the white banks of the island, its engine letting off an unhealthy whirr, its class cracked and it metal rusted and covered in alien barnacles. The lights inside flickered on and off, the blue flashing seen from behind a clouded windshield. But there was the shadow of a someone inside, banging against the glass for freedom. I grabbed my stasis rifle and slammed its butt-end against the cracks in the glass. A handful of chips fell inward, and suddenly a voice funnelled through the hole the strike made. "Help me! Get me out of here!" Ovel screeched in a gargled, inhumane voice. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot and his blows to the glass were frail.
"Keep out of the way!" I warned him, and he scurried back into the corner of the moth. I lay another strike on the glass, and then a final third blow sent the shield caving in. I reached in a hand and Ovel gladly took it, heaving himself out of the vehicle and onto the sand and snow. Then I saw it; Sasha's body lying behind the moth's seat.
"Get her out!" Ovel staggered to his feet, and began to circle the beached moth. Almost all the island was watching. I grabbed Sasha and pulled her lifeless body out of the moth. I grabbed her hand and put my thumb over her wrist. I felt long and hard, focusing only on what I felt in my thumb. Nothing... and then a soft thump from beneath the skin.
"There's a pulse!" I declared. There were sighs of relief from all around, but also the vocal garglings of struggle from behind the crashed seamoth. I stood up and looked behind the rusty mess. Attached to the moth's arse-end was a rope, which lead down over the banks and into the frosty water. Flimsy, malnourished Ovel was trying his best to pull it up, but he was failing. I walked over to him, the snow crunching beneath the soles of my feet. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he twisted sadly around. He handed the rope to me and said something odd. "Whatever you see," he whispered, "trust me, I've seen worse."
I slipped off my black leather gloves. The skin beneath was red, and cold, and my fingers felt stiff and numb. Getting a firm grip on the rope was an intense struggle, but eventually I overcame the limitations the cold set upon me. I heaved as hard and fast as I could, and there was only the slightest budge. Whatever this was, it was incredibly heavy. I took a long, exasperated breath and continued to haul this thing out from the water. I did not think to stop for anymore breaths; I continued to pull and tug and heave at the rope until an enormous coil was forming beside me on the snow. Then it surfaced; another seamoth, even more rusted and worse for wares than the other one. In my awe I nearly lost grip, but I was able to reclaim my grasp as soon as I let go.
Now it was safely on the sand-snow beach, resting on the shore like a body on concrete. People began to gather around, but I shouted them off. A crowd was the last thing I needed. I snatched my stasis rifle from the beach and held it blunt face forwards. I quickly smashed it against the glass of the moth, but with no success. Then again, and again, and again. After seven tries the glass caved in, and sitting in the moth's seat was the last person I'd hoped to see.
I dragged Ollos out from his vehicle and threw him onto the snow. He was skinny and weak like Ovel, but he had a smile and happiness about him. Quickly I spun my rifle in my hands and shot a blast at the floored Ollos, sending him writhing about on the snow. That wiped the smile off of his face. Then Ovel came running over to me. He shook Ollos, as if he were a child waking his parents, pushing and pulling on his shoulder. Then he turned to me accusingly. "He is going to help us!" Ovel insisted. "He said he would! He said he would when Seth came!"
Seth? Seth was dead. Ovel was clearly delusional. "Calm down, Ovel. Someone get Sasha inside! And drown Ollos!"
"You don't make the call!" Ovel wailed. "Sasha does! She saw them too! Her knee is badly wounded, Zanos; she needs intense care! I kept it patched up with seaweed, so I'm guessing it's infected by now!"
"We're killing Ollos!" I kicked snow in Ovel's direction. "This is another one of his tricks; a manipulation of a fragile and broken mind like yours. Ovel, please! I implore you to see the truth to this! Ollos will kill all of us the first chance he gets!"
Jacob Sand marched into the centre of the ring, barging through the spectators. "It pains me to say it, Zanos, but Ovel is absolutely right. It is not your call to make, it's Sasha's."
I glared at Sand with what I hoped was a vicious eye. I thought about what was to be said to him, when eventually I came to an only somewhat pleasing two words, which both meant a whole deal more. "Where's Yakon?" I asked.
"Keeping Jack quiet. You've probably woken him up by now, though, with your racket." Two men barged through the crowd and picked up Sasha by the arms. The hauled her over their shoulders and dragged her away from the commotion. "We're going to get Sasha and Ovel fed. You can look after Ollos." I looked down at the sadistic little twat on the floor, and he was staring up at me with wide, increasingly uncomfortable eyes. He took short and deep breaths.
"You have two choices, Zanos," Ollos grinned up at him as Jack walked off over the snowy hills. "You can kill me, and probably be slaughtered by your own people, or you could let me live and they'll let you live in return." He was right. Completely right. I hated it. I hated it when my enemies were right. "What's it going to be, Zanos?" He called up in a raspy voice. "What will you choose?"
Ollos might help them against Seth, but the man has personally killed many Islanders and even wants to murder a baby. He'll backstab them all the first chance he gets.
The journey home was a nightmare; we had minimal food, minimal water, and were moving rather slowly due to Ollos's moth being brought along for the ride. Where it would have taken us a single week to return home it had taken two. On the first day Ovel told me about what had happened to him and Ollos on the Aurora. There were only certain aspects of the battle that stayed with me. I remembered seeing familiar faces, all decayed and maggot-ridden and grey, their teeth (if they had any) yellow and their hair grey and black and falling away. I remembered watching Ollos run down the side of the Aurora as quickly as he could, nearly tripping with every long stride he took, his arms flailing as if they had sprung from their sockets and the shoulder. Behind him was the horde of dead men that he said had chased him for an hour. Some of them ran, some of them lumbered slowly down the slope, and some crawled. But they were all fast, and that was what was most important. Ovel had grabbed Ollos's heat ray from the ocean (it hadn't floated very far when he arrived) and began to shoot at the enemy.
Jack's crying woke me. I was slumped in a chair in the base, a blanket over me. Jack's crib was in the centre of the circular room, and around the room's edges were five chairs, three with someone in them. The first housed me, covered in bandages like a mummy. To my left was Ovel, still fast asleep. Ollos sat opposite me, snoring through his nose quite peacefully. He twitched and snorted in his sleep, and shook his shoulders. His eyes moved under their lids. I was slowly growing more and more tired. Eventually the baby's crying became a rhythm in my ears and I began to fall asleep again. Even with the baby balling, I slipped back into my dream.
I had been patched up, yet I was still unable to walk. I had been dragged to the moth, and Ovel and Ollos were still outside, the man with the pistol and the monster with an enormous block of titanium. They battered and shot the dead as best they could, but nothing stopped them. Blows to the chest, the head, the stomach; nothing seemed to stop them. The only way to keep them at bay was to incapacitate them by removing each of their limbs or burn them (the heat ray set one of the dead's clothes alight, and this is how we knew that fire destroyed them). The green lumps plaguing their body swelled and pulsed, and sometimes popped letting loose disgusting green liquid. Luckily none of the goo touched Ovel or Ollos before they boarded their moths. Unluckily, however, it touched and arose something else; something that should have remained dead.
The reaper's skin was discoloured and its mandibles flailed madly. It looked to be having difficulty swimming, appearing as though an eight year old had taken the wheel of a lorry. This only lasted for a few minutes, however. The green bulbs sprouted on its skin soon enough, and it charged at Ollos with full force. It shielded its face with its four mandibles and crashed into Ollos's moth, sending it spiralling to the sea floor. For some reason Ovel insisted that we dive down to help him. This is where I fell out of consciousness.
I woke up in the late morning. I could see the mist outside seeping in through the door, they sun's rays barely seeping through the low clouds. Ollos and Ovel were already gone. Jack had stopped crying, which was hardly surprising. But this morning wasn't normal by any means; the lights flickered on and off, there was no whirring of electrics from behind the walls, and it was deadly quiet outside. I picked myself up and peered out through the door. There was nothing outside but the snow and the fog. I looked around the room; no one was there save me. Then I heard a shout outside, as if someone was announcing something. Now I was beginning to feel scared. I grabbed the spine of the chair with both hands and lifted myself onto my feet. I stumbled forwards with the pain in my knee and I slammed against the crib, rocking it. It nearly toppled over, but I grabbed its rims with my hands and pulled it upright again. "Sorry, Jack," I muttered. Then I looked inside the crib and my heart sank. Tears welled in my eyes and my blood ran colder than winter air.
"All of you need to step the hell back!" I could only see Ollos's silhouette in the mist; he stood by the water, his pistol in one hand and Jack in the other, the boy pressed tightly against his chest. He was accompanied by three men, one to his left and two to his right, all armed with a large rifle, each of which I presumed to be deadly. There were only a handful of Islanders at the scene; the entire Island guard and a few others. The rest either slept or watched from the windows. I limped closer to the scene. The air was clod. Everything was cold.The snow crunched beneath my feet, and when my soles sank through I could feel the damp cold sand below.
"Ollos, drop the baby and we'll let you leave in peace," All Zanos had was a stasis rifle. He had it aimed at Ollos, and the rest of the island guard had theirs pointed at his accomplices. As I drew closer, faces began to emerge. Behind Ollos's barrels were two of Jacob Sand's scientists and engineers (probably spies planted amongst the Islanders since the beginning). The third man still could not be seen. I limped closer and closer. The wound in my knee began to sting more than anything I had ever felt; I was pushing it far too much. But I would not go without seeing this traitor's putrid face. Eventually it revealed itself. The revelation made me extremely uncomfortable. Ovel stood with Ollos, his face showing worry and hatred; there was no love there. He shuffled his feet around in the snow, and his fingers fiddled around on the gun.
"Ovel!" I yelled. He turned to look at me, startled, as did Ollos and Ollos's gun. Ovel's head drooped. I stopped myself before I came too close. "Ollos, give me back my son!" He chuckled.
Zanos rushed over to me. "Sasha," he put his arm over me like a barrier between me and Ollos. "Get back inside; we'll get your son back."
"What do you think you're going to do with those stasis rifles, Zanos?!" Ollos squeezed Jack closer to his chest, and his hand fastened even tighter around his pistol. "If you taze me, you taze the boy, and a charge that strong would probably kill poor Jack over here. So how do you plan on getting him back?" It was only now that I noticed four seamoths behind Ollos, all poking out of the water, all their hatches opened and ready for boarding. Ollos wasn't going to kill Jack at all; he was going to take him.
I heard the crunching of another set of feet just at the top of the hill, climbing over the sandy shoulder of the alien weapon. I turned around to see Jacob Sand scurrying down the sides of the gun, his arms stretched out for balance. "Kerrid?!" He yelled at one of the engineers beside Ollos. "Arrivir?! What in the hell do you think you two are doing alongside that madman?!"
Ollos didn't hesitate. A shot of heat burst from Ollos's pistol and pierced Jacob's thigh. He was sent to one knee, and sooner than he fell he began to roll down the bank of sand by the weapon, a carpet of blood following him as he tumbled down through the snow. "Traitor!" Ollos yelled at him. "Next time it'll be your head, mark my words!" Ovel flinched, and shuffled uncomfortably as Jacob fell. Yakon burst over the hill and skidded down it to Jacob. He cupped him in his arms and began beating at the unconscious man's heart to no avail.
Ovel turned to look at Ollos. Zanos was talking to them, but I wasn't paying attention to his words; I was only focusing on the movements of Ollos and Ovel. They peered around at each other, Ovel in rage and Ollos in caution. Ovel gripped his rifle even harder. Then he turned as quickly as his body would allow. His arms snapped around to Ollos, the barrel of his gun pointed straight towards Ollos. But the madman was quicker, and more agile with his pistol. With a quick flick of his wrist, and the pull of a trigger, a blast was sent spiralling through the air and into Ovel's chest. He veered back and shot his rifle in the air twenty times as he fell to the snow. Ollos's pistol quickly snapped back to Zanos. "Don't move or I'll shoot you brains out!" He screamed. Jack began to cry. "Shut it!" Ollos shook the baby. Then he pointed the gun at me and began to back up to his moth. "You don't move either, Sasha." He reached the edge of the beach, where the water hit the snow. "And don't say a god damn thing."
He froze for a second. He looked at Jacob, who was still floored, and speaking into his walkie-talkie (most likely to the crew of the Hydra, telling them that Ollos was free, and about to pass by). Ollos looked down at Ovel's body, which still twitched and writhed on the floor; he was almost dead now. Then he looked back at me. He looked at me for a long time, sometimes switching to look at the gun, but always back to me. His grasp became stronger on the pistol. The baby was crying. I knew I couldn't move; if I did he would shoot me. He was considering. Then he had considered.
He flicked his wrist and fired a shot. Blood splattered against the white snow. I screamed and turned to Zanos with tears building in my eyes. There was a hole where Zanos's neck reached his right shoulder. Blood trickled down his chin. He turned what remained of his neck to look at me, and then he fell backwards onto the beach. "Zanos!" I wailed. Yakon roared and threw a stone at Ollos, but it was too late. He had already slid into his moth and closed the hatch, Jack still in his arms. His accomplices had boarded their seamoths too, and it didn't take them long to whizz away in their subs. "Jack!" I yelled.
But they were gone. All that remained of Ollos on the island was his victims and...
I staggered over to Ovel. He looked up at me through bloodshot and dying eyes. "I didn't know..." he whined. "I didn't... know..."
"You didn't know what?" I asked with gritted teeth. "Whatever it is, it doesn't matter; you chose to side with Ollos anyway."
"I was a... spy for him, like Kerrid and Arrivir... I didn't... I didn't know that he would... that he would take the... the baby... I didn't know that he would ta-" I kicked him in the head with as much force as I could muster. My blind rage curtained my pain; I could hardly even tell I was kicking him with my bad leg. I kicked him again and the pain surged through me. I used it as fuel, and ever kick got harder and harder until the pain overcame my anger, and I collapsed to my knees. I didn't look at Ovel, not wanting to see what my foot had done to his face.
I dragged myself over to Zanos's body. He stared at the sky with glossy eyes. He was always kind, always caring. He was someone who I never expected to go away; he was there to help and that was all he was; loyal and loving till the day he died. The wound in his neck had not itself generated any blood, but it had sent spills surging through his mouth and onto the snow. The scar across his neck and shoulder was a deep cut and burn, but his mouth was drenched with red. How would I cope without him. How would I cope without Zanos?
I picked myself up and took three steps towards Jacob before collapsing again. He had survived Ollos's attack. Yakon was already there over him, taking care of the wound in his leg. "Sasha," he said. "We will get your son back. If it's the last thing we ever do, we will get him back. No matter what it takes."
"Yes," I said through teary eyes and a blocked throat. "However long it takes, and whatever the price, we will not stop until he's back in my arms." The mist was beginning to lift. In the distance was the ghostly silhouette of the Aurora. It danced in the shadows and the fog, the trees on its back bristling in the wind like waves in the ocean. The sun above looked only like a white circle in the mist. Looking at it didn't hurt the eyes whatsoever. It was a strange sort of beautiful. Then it began to grow smaller; the enormous red moon was beginning to engulf the sun from behind the fog. The star grew smaller, and the world became darker and darker, until I could see nothing but pitch blackness around me. Jacob Sand grinned and laughed. "A sign of good fortune, perhaps." He commented. I was inclined to agree. I would need as much luck as I could get.
"I'll take it," I wiped my tears away. "Even if it is just an Eclipse."
...Why the hell would they have put him in the same room as Jack, even for a moment? Why did they not confiscate the heat blaster? They should've kept him locked up.
...Why the hell would they have put him in the same room as Jack, even for a moment? Why did they not confiscate the heat blaster? They should've kept him locked up.
I could have done a better job setting Jack's kidnapping up, and at the moment it does look like a really big plot hole.
I'm not going to spoil anything, but there is definitely a reason for it. My stance on events like this is that if you explain what's going to happen, when it does happen it looses its urgency. If you had gotten a Zenn perspective chapter with Seth saying that Malla was going to be killed it would have taken away from the experience. If it all happens and then I explain why afterwards it is a lot more fulfilling.
I just could have improved on the way I set up Ollos taking Jack. It'll make sense, though; I promise.
Comments
My Cyclops was closing in on the Aurora, at breakneck speed (or as close to breakneck speed as the vessel's weight would allow). It was apparent, however, that Ollos Silver was fast approaching the wreckage as well. With a signal as strong as Malla's being broadcast across the planet, he was sure to pick up on it, and even if he didn't his many spies amongst the Islanders would have reported back to him with the same news. I and my crew were out to save my brother; he was out to put a permanent end to him, and most likely me with him. Luckily, he wasn't the only one with spies, reporting behind enemy lines. It was unfortunate, however, that ours thought Silver's crusade more just, and decided to side with him at the last minute. Weapons and gadgets that he had designed to blow up in Ollos's face were altered at the last minute to truly give the maniac the upper hand. Reports told us, however, that our traitorous little spy was killed by Ollos, who was still under the impression that he was one of ours. Of course he would still use the weapons, if he was able to catch up to us with a fleet of his size. The only question was, of course, how did he expect to breach the hull of our Cyclops and get hands-on with the crew, and my Island Guard? I had left everyone of importance back at our home, so if the operation was deemed a failure the only person lost would be me and the crew. Zanos Millen was still on the island, as was my son, as was everyone who I thought to be important. I didn't think Ollos would share this strategy.
The road to the Aurora was quiet, and tense; I could hear the crew's muscles tensing up beneath the skin. There was only one man on the sub that appeared as calm as when he had boarded; Commander Skalve. Skalve had crashed with me on the Lunar Vessel, and even then I had known him to be a man with nerves forged from steel, wits as adept as that of a cat. When the hull squealed and cracked around us, and all of my soldiers and crew thought the titanium would cave in and we'd all drown, he stood as still as if a stasis blast had hit him. After the massacre of Obraxis Prime, Skalve was sent to kill all of the maniacs who still ran around butchering farmers and miners. He saved Ollos's life on that planet. For that I had half a mind to strangle him where he stood, but I refrained from killing the man. I legitimately would have, if circumstances proved different.
Soon enough, sirens began to blare, and red flashing lights began to spin from the roofs. "To your stations!" I commanded the crew. All of the lights were put out, and the energy that would have gone to them sent instead to the engine. Ollos was near. No doubt his sirens were whirring like ours. Skalve pulled out his stasis rifle, complaining all the while that he was used to shooting people with real bullets, and not these shoddy lasers. Now he was going to make up for the mistakes of his past. He was going to kill Ollos Silver, and save my brother; I was going to make sure he was the one to do the deed. If it wasn't him, it would be Malla, and if not Malla me. Or, if he lived for long enough to see it happen, Jack would halt Ollos's heart. I hoped it didn't take that long for him to be switched off.
Ollos was feared. I have no idea why; what reason did people have to fear him? Of course, I wasn't there at Obraxis Prime, where Ollos spent most of his life, but I was told it was a dark, mysterious, unfriendly place full of unmatched perils and dangers. Only a truly dangerous man could brave such a harsh environment, but Ollos didn't seem brave, or dangerous for that matter. Skalve told me that, when he found him, Ollos was destroying the Obraxis murderers, shooting each and every one of them in the eye. When he ran out of bullets, he resorted to a knife. He apparently mistook Skalve for a bandit, and gave the man the deep and nasty scar that now sits above and below his left eye. Not that impressive, I always thought. If Ollos was truly that good, Skalve would have no eye at all. Of course I believe people when they tell stories of Ollos's ferocity; all I prayed for is that I didn't get to see it in action.
Many of my mercenaries swarmed to the ladder at the front of the vessel, but the more intelligent ones, such as Skalve and his friend-group, decided to make their way to the engine rooms. There there were two ladders to make their way down to the exit. The Aurora loomed over us, and I'd be damned if we lost this fight. I couldn't see Ollos's ship with my eyes, but on the radar it blipped clear as day. Closer it came, and closer and closer until I was surprised I couldn't see it. Then there was an almighty crash, and the sound of titanium breaking in a powerful explosion of creaking metal and clanging nuts and bolts. Then there was the sound of water slowly gushing in. Then the sound of the engines spluttering to a halt and dying. Then there was the sound of screaming mercenaries in the engine room, and finally the sound of all of the emergency doors sliding to a close. I quickly made my way to the centre of the Cyclops, where my Seamoth was stationed. If all went pearshaped, I would hop into the moth and glide to my brother myself.
Mercenaries surrounded me. I heard the faint banging of people hitting the door, wanting to leave the room. The Cyclops had collided with our own in a fantastic display of a kamikaze attack. "Help!" I heard them screaming. "Help! Help us!"
But no help would come. Not when Ollos Silver got there first.
Finally. It had been such a long and taxing journey; the entire crew was tired and battered and near beaten. We were beginning to run out of food, we were beginning to run out of water, and much of my crew was beginning to run out of faith. On this journey I was almost killed seven times, but all of these assassins got what was coming to them. Even my engineer was an Islander spy, but his gadgets were welcome. But now we were ready. We were about to hop back onto the Aurora, slaughter Malla where he stood, if it even was Malla, and feed Sasha his eyes, and make her drink the marrow from his bones.
There was just one small matter I had to take care of first.
We had rammed at full speed into the enemy Cyclops's engine room. Of course, their hull was breached as if we were the knife and they were the cake, but ours was heavily reinforced, and nigh unbreakable. All that could be seen of this collision was a small dent on the underside of the submarine, and it didn't have a negative affect on... well, just about anything. I slipped on my gauntlet, I readied my heat-vision goggles and I took my blaster off safety. I wasn't going to kill Sasha; I was going to take her, and press her face to Malla's dead and rotting one. She would know pain, as I have learned to love it.
I stood above the small round hatch at the base of the Cyclops. If I listened closely, I could hear men outside screaming. "Help us!" they wailed. No one will help you now, Islanders, I wanted to bark. Not when I find you first. The hatch was loose; I had planned this attack for thirty of the hundred miles we had travelled, and readied the ship for my little performance. I grinned, wondering what look they'd dart at me when they saw me. I was dressed in dark, almost black, clothing; if not, the darkest shade of grey there ever was or will be. I wore a pitch black cloak, designed to give me presence.
It was time. I stretched the fingers of my gauntlet-wearing hand, and fastened my index around the blaster's trigger. I raised my right foot, and with one powerful stomp the hatch flew open. I dropped five feet when it dropped me, and I landed on the engine room floor of the Cyclops with an enormous thud, and a splash. Seawater rushed past my feet, seeping in through gaps in the walls. "Open fire!" I heard a familiar voice yell. It was that damned traitor, Skalve. He saved me on Obraxis Prime from maniacs who would feast on my tongue, and now he sought to kill me. I'd show him how it felt.
Before any of their fingers could press on the triggers of their... stasis rifles, or their propulsion cannons, I slammed the palm of my gauntlet into the floor. It left a small, blue, glowing circle on the ground that stayed for half a second before exploding upwards, creating a blue, rectangular shield in front of me. Skalve yelled another command, but I was to quick with the trigger. Five, I counted in the room. With four shots, four were dead, and Skalve was attempting to pry open the door, which was slammed shut at the other end of the room. When this failed he banged on it more and more, hoping it would open. He turned around to check on me, not anticipating I would already be a foot away from him. I grabbed his face with my gauntlet, and began to crush. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed for help and mercy, but neither came for him, nor were given the chance to. When I heard a crack, and blood was seeping from his mouth and eyes, I thought it right to stop. This Cyclops is likely not going anywhere fast, I made peace with myself. I threw him back, and he slammed back-first into the engine, or at least one half of the engine.
I grabbed the side of the door with my gauntlet, and slid it open effortlessly. Three more mercenaries were in this room, and a Seamoth, slowly lowering into the ocean. Inside it I could see her. She began to panic, pressing buttons on the dash to try and make the thing lower faster. I quickly put an end to two of the gunsmen in the room, but the other hid behind the Seamoth. This was fine for me. I shot and shot at the glass in front of Sasha's face. It began to chip, and crack. I fired at the same spot (right in front of her damn ugly face) over and over and over again. The glass was just about to break when the Seamoth dropped into the water. Instead of the glass, I shot the cowering mercenary clean in the head for a quick death.
I stood at the lip of the hole in the floor, where the Seamoth had so briskly made its escape. I watched it sail off, through the water, out of my sight. One of my own mercenaries ran up behind me. "What now, my lord?"
"Ready my moth," I commanded. "She'll be dead by nightfall."
The entire crew had perished at the hand of a single man. I wished to see Ollos Silver's true might, and to my dismay I did. He annihilated my entire crew using only a single heat blaster. There was only one conceivable way he could have gotten his hands on a weapon like that, only one engineer that came to mind who could craft such a deadly thing. That traitorous bastard. If only our spy had stayed on our side; perhaps none of this would have ever happened. Perhaps Ollos would be filled with knife wounds, bleeding on deck, ready to be the bait of stalkers and reapers and much worse creatures.
"Dammit!" I screamed in the cockpit. The accompanying Islander cyclops had fallen shortly after the command vessel; an enemy moth had flown straight into the front of the sub, sending water gushing in, drowning most of the crew. I had only stepped in it once, on the day of its completion. It had taken four days to build, and was slightly smaller than the command ship, but the inside was arguably cosier, with less people running around. It was to act as a flagship when we reached the base of the Aurora, to lure out reapers and other creatures so that we could slip on by. Of course these plans required thorough revision.
Suddenly I was struck with a memory; another moth was aboard that ship. I patched into the comms, searching for a signal and finding nothing. I waited for a long, long time. My seamoth continued to speed towards the Aurora, towards Malla. Then the comms picked up a (albeit faint) signal.
"Come in! This is Sasha Corren, do you read?" There was no reply; only heavy static. "This is Sasha Corren! Come in! Are you there?!" It was at this point I decided the seamoth too had flooded. Perhaps it wasn't static after all, but the currents crashing against the moth's microphone. It was a lot to stomach; I was out here, alone, at the base of the Aurora, my only company being reapers and the most dangerous man on the planet. Perhaps he isn't, I began to ponder. Power comes in its own unique shapes and sizes. Ollos has a great deal of physical strength. Zanos Millen is loyal to the end, and here resides his power. Zenn Codett... God I hope he is alive... he is intelligent, and strategic. He could beat Ollos, if the time came.
Suddenly, a voice began to bark out of the comms. "Commander, this is Lieutenant Ovel! The Redemption's entire crew is dead or without hope of survival! I took the vessel's moth before the enemy could! Where should I go, commander?!"
"Follow me into the Aurora, Lieutenant! We'll rendezvous there!"
"Are you sure Ollos won't find us there? If he surrounds the wreckage, we're as good as dead!"
Ovel was stubborn, and obviously had exhausted his last breaths of hope, but I wasn't going to let that stop us. If the Alterra manuals were to be believed, survival is much easier with a friend by your side. "Lieutenant, listen to me. If we die on the Aurora, know we died for a good cause. Yes, it may be our darkest hour, but it's also our finest. I'm going in, and I'm going to live it the best I can. Will you do the same, or will you crawl back home without hope, and without completion? Will you come with me?"
There was a moment of silence. "Yes," Ovel sighed. Then there was a deafening roar from outside the moth. It made me jump, and left me shaken for long after, as I knew what creature had made the sound. I heard it again, and the currents picked up. "Sasha! I see you! You need to go, now!" Ovel was in distress. It could mean two things; either the monster was closing in on me, or the reaper was. Either way it wouldn't be good. I sent my moth flying forwards as quickly as its propellers would allow. It hopped through the waters faster than I had ever felt it travel, the hull shaking with the velocity. Then I made a mistake; I turned to look back, to see what was chasing me, and it cost speed to do so. I slowed down, and saw it. There were two seamoths, one close to the surface, and one near the mouth of the enormous reaper speeding towards us. As this seamoth got closer and closer, I saw that Ollos was its pilot. But the reaper's eyes weren't on him; they were on me.
I sped to the surface with extreme haste. Ollos carried on to the Aurora, and the reaper changed trajectory, swimming upwards to face me. The surface was closing in on me. The hull of the seamoth began to shake so hard I could feel breakfast churning inside my stomach, my heart rattling around in my chest. The surface came closer and closer,t he sun turning brighter and brighter until all I could see was a light shade of blue.
Then the moth burst out of the water. The hull stopped shaking, and I suddenly felt weightless. It flew at least thirty feet upward from the ocean below. Then I cracked the moth open. I unstrapped myself and jumped out. I turned to look at the water beneath me, and let myself fall, my limbs stretched as if I were a star. The water was completely blue, until I saw the reds and greens of a reaper's face form beneath the waves. The beast broke the surface, it's jaws open, ready to catch the moth as it fell. I was still falling. I was going to fall between the creature's top two mandibles, and before I reached them I turned myself in the air, so I was looking up at the clouds. The red claws fell past me, and as quick as a bullet I latched onto them both with my free hands.
The creature roared. I now had a firm grip on the reaper's scythes. I tried to find footing along its spine, but the scales were too slippery, and my boots fell away as I awkwardly tried to get balance. The seamoth fell into the reaper's jaws, and its claws came down on it, lunging me forward as they snapped forwards. There was another roar, and the reaper crashed back into the ocean. The currents pressed against my face, but I kept my grip. Now that the beast's back had levelled out I was able to find footing. The world was blue once again.
Then I tugged on the claw in my right hand extremely hard. The creature's head tilted in this direction, and began to steer right. I pulled even harder and it turned sharply in that direction. Then it sped along. I steered it more and more, keeping it stabilised as it tried to shake the moth in its jaws. It's like horseriding, I told myself. Only leagues more terrifying.
I heard Ovel laugh through his moth's hull, and it made me smile. I thought I'd have a problem holding my breath, but when the adrenaline kicked in I was fine. I wasn't going to outrun Ollos in my seamoth, but if there was one thing that could...
More! Once the Islanders master reaper riding, there will be no stopping them.
Salt gushed into me eyes like bullets. The world was deep blue, save for the monster I swam upon, its back as red and vicious as flame. It snapped and snapped to be free, but I wasn't going to let go for the world. I held on tight, and whenever I felt its body veering one way I tugged it the other. Whenever it tried to reach the surface I pushed it back down, and whenever it grew hungry and wanted to feast off of the creatures below I heaved it upwards. If this beast was ever to catch up with Ollos, he'd be as good as dead.
I feigned courage, when really the situation shook me to the marrow of my bones. The cold water wasn't the only thing that made my teeth rattle. One of these creatures patrolled the base of the island we lived on; how many survivors had it torn apart, I wondered. Although that creature was a hulking behemoth compared to this smaller reaper, its danger could be estimated. The first chance I got, I was going to bail off of this thing's slippery back. If there was one thing I wouldn't let this creature do, it was do my dirty work for me. The reaper could tear apart the moth by all means, but the man, the monster inside of it was mine.
Suddenly, objects erupted from the murk; enormous beams of rusted, black metal rose from the foggy blue below. The leviathan was about to swim straight into one of them, and my eyes pained me so much I barely even saw them myself. I hauled at the right mandible of the creature and it steered that direction, narrowly clipping the metal. It gave a fearsome roar, and shook its head. It's left claws were bleeding; a stream of red followed the leviathan wherever it went, and the cloud only grew larger. It gave a sympathetic growl. "Come on," I whispered to the reaper. "You can do it."
Then I saw a bank of metal near the surface. I pulled at both of the terrifying creature's mandibles as hard as I could. As I tugged at the left claw, it spewed a greater amount of blood than it ever had done before. The creature moaned in pain, and erupted out of the water. I felt weightless once again, It flew a dozen metres out of the water, and when it began its descent I lost hold of its pincers. It slammed against the titanium below, and I slapped against its scaly back, and slid down to the floor.
Red water ran down from the leviathan. It trickled past my hands and knees, coating them in a thick layer of salty blood. I tried to pick myself up. I thought I had footing, but when my left leg tried to lift the rest of my body it slipped, and I splashed against the stream of water beneath me. The creature moaned again. I pushed myself off the ground as quickly as I could, and this time I maintained balance. I quickly looked around, and saw further down the iron bank a moth, cracked open, the man inside long gone. Then I turned my attention to the reaper once again. It writhed in pain. I walked up to its head, and I raised my hand to touch it, to comfort it. I wanted it to be okay; it would kill me if it could, but surely if I were starving and a squirrel jumped on my back I'd do the same.
Then there was the crack of a pistol firing. Before my hand even reached the scales its head was caved in by the blast. The creature was completely silenced, and slowly slipping down into the waters. I turned to see what had ended the beast, only to find Ollos standing there, his barrel smoking. "And Malla Corren's sister became so desperate," he yelled with a smile on his face. He began to walk around on the titanium with his arms stretched outwards, and spoke like a presenter, as if he were on a stage. "That she turned to wildlife for help!" Then his mannerisms and expressions became a lot more personal. He looked me in the eye, and lowered his arms. "Not even the reaper can pull you from death now." Ollos grinned.
He raised his gun. I dashed forward. The water beneath me made me trip, and a laser blast was sent whizzing over my head. I ran as quickly as I could, and before I knew it I was at his feet. I lunged forward, and grabbed him around the legs. He fell to the floor, and from what I heard he dropped his gun. I heard it skid across the metal, down the titanium bank. I got on my hands and knees, keeping Ollos firmly where I needed him. I raised a fist, and my knuckles landed on his cheek. A tooth rattled across the floor, and blood splattered against the metal. Ollos laughed. I threw another punch at the same cheek, and three more teeth exploded from his mouth. Then his large, warm hands wrapped around my neck, quicker than a boa constrictor could grasp its prey. His bloody mouth tightened, and his rage was painted on his face in red. He shook with the force he put into his fingers. He rolled me over, and my back crashed against the metal. He left me there and scrambled to reach the gun, but I quickly grabbed his ankle, my nail digging into his skin. He screamed in pain and fell over, his head slamming onto the floor. He tried to crawl away but I brought his ankle to my mouth and I drove my teeth into his skin. He screamed even more, and bashed the ground in his pain.
The moisture I felt in my mouth could have been blood, or it could have been sea water still clinging to Ollos's trousers. Either way, I felt salt seep down my throat, and lodge in between my yellowing teeth. Somehow, Ollos wriggled free, and slid down the bank to his weapon. He snatched it up and aimed it at me. Where he grinned before, his red mouth displayed only a furious anger. A river of blood ran from his left nostril, and more came from the side of his head where it had crashed against the cold metal. Now he limped wherever he went. The dead leviathan behind him, a crater still in its face, was looking eerily at me with its glossy green eyes. It looked like Ollos was about to say something, but he shook his head, his eyes squinting as if he were about to cry. I pushed myself up.
And he pulled the trigger.
An intense pain rushed through my knee then. At first it felt like an injection; a small amount of pain driven into one area, in this case my kneecap. Then the pain receded, though I was still rolling on the floor. Then the pain returned, and worse than it had ever been. Now it wasn't just the kneecap that hurt, but the entire leg. I grasped it, and when I took my hands away they were covered in fresh blood. Ollos staggered over to me, and looked down at me with his tired, grey eyes, full of hate and anger and bitterness. All of his emotions showed, but his weariness and fury burned more fiercely than the rest. He frowned. It was strange to see him frown; he was usually so maniacal and giddy. Now all he was was menacing.
"You'll die here." He said coldly and out of breath. "And your brother will die here." I began to slide helplessly down the bank. "I'll make sure your son dies here too." He looked down at his gun, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. He looked some more, and eventually threw the weapon into the water. "A gun won't be brutal enough for Malla. This is me saving my energy." He limped up the Aurora. I didn't see; I was trying to keep my blood inside my body.
"Malla!" I screamed. Ollos continued as if he hadn't heard. "Ovel!" I wailed. "Someone help me!" I said. "Help me!" I repeated. "Help me!"
It had taken a whole four hours to find my way to the hulking black spine of the Aurora; I had found in a janitor's closet some materials to patch up the wound in my ankle, where Sasha had dug her teeth into my skin. I felt her teeth loosed and crack and shudder as she pushed harder and harder down, but it all paid off because she somehow reached the skeleton, and my ankle was fractured. A cloth did the trick for about half an hour (enough time to reach the living quarters of the ship), but it became so blood-soaked that and soggy that it began to flay and decay. I had to abandon it, and I resorted to something primitive; I found myself in a dark corridor, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue, five less teeth than I had set out with, and a trail of blood behind me. There were shafts of light (sunlight or otherwise) beaming down through small holes in the ceiling, and rubble all around me. I found a titanium plate as large as the front of my clenched fist. In each of its corners was a small hole where screws had come loose and fallen away. It took five minutes to find all four, and another ten to hammer the plate in place over my wound. I used a rock to beat in the nails, and the bleeding stopped (the nails dug in cleanly, leaving no space for any more blood to seep out.
I limped further and further through the ship until I came to a rusty, square, decrepit room, with plants and ferns dangling from a hole in the ceiling; a hole with a ladder jutting down from one side. A whole half hour was spent trying to climb up that accursed thing, but eventually I was able to haul myself up into the sunlight. The stories were true; a whole forest had sprouted on the Aurora's back. White and black trees with dark green leaves grew everywhere, and towering above them all in the distance was the bridge. It was enormous, and a grand display of humanity's brilliance. But looking at it saddened me. A whole generation ago, when the Aurora set sail, my friend Hollister had been at the reigns. He was surely dead now, though; I hadn't heard anything from him in years and years.
But this lifeform was the main priority. I had wished so badly for it to be Malla, but now I wanted it to be anyone but him. I was too injured to face the most respected and feared man that had ever walked (or swam, I suppose) this planet. If he had survived stab-wounds as deadly as he they were, what else could he withstand? I was now beginning to wish I hadn't thrown the gun in the water. Then there was a buzz in my pocket. It was my P.C.R (Portable Communications Relay); Selwyn, the captain of the Interception (my Cyclops) was calling. I lucked the device from my pocket and answered the call.
"You should have contacted me sooner," I said as cool as I could.
"Yes sir! Sorry sir, but another Islander Cyclops arrived shortly after you left, and we had no choice but to engage!"
They had three of them? "Impossible," I remarked. "They were only in possession of two Cyclops, our scanners told us so."
"Spies also informed us that another was under construction at their Island," Selwyn told me more sternly than I would have liked. He would regret that someday; I didn't like being talked to as if I were stupid. "It's possible this Cyclops was completed."
"There's no way in hell that submarine could move quick enough to catch up with Sasha's; it would arrive three days late." This was all very confusing; Selwyn really wasn't explaining it clearly.
"This Cyclops's engines were different from the others', sir, as were its turbines. It moved three times as fast as the others. In my mind there's only one explanation for this."
He paused, annoyingly. "Spit it out; I ain't got all day!" He remained silent. He was about to see my bad side.
"Jacob," was all he said. I knew exactly what he meant. Jacob Sand and Jeckon whatever-his-last-name-was had slipped away a month earlier. I hoped it wasn't to join the Islanders, he was the smartest man I knew besides dead old Jacky, but it turned out he had.
"Well I suppose it doesn't matter anymore; the sub's gone, so...." There was another silence. "Selwyn, you're about to tell me Sand's death-sub is gone or we are going to fall out."
He stuttered down the mic. "n-n-negative..." His voice was extremely shaky and irritating to listen to. As it always has been, I thought. "w-well, sort of negative... the, uhh... the Interception fell... I escaped in the moth, and eight accompanying moths are alongside me."
"Oh, Selwyn, you bad bad boy!" I yelled. "A good captain goes down with his ship! You left your crew to die in there instead, and you think you're the hero in this little story? The Interception, the largest ship in these seas, has been destroyed and the Islander's monster-of-a-sub is still out there! I hope it gets you all! I have more important things to be doing with my time than talking to traitors." I hung up the call. I stared at the P.C.R for a good minute before collapsing to my knees and yelling in anger at the sky. I threw the P.C.R into a tree trunk and it shattered into one thousand shimmering pieces. I sat there defeated.
And then there was a voice.
"I too was stabbed in the back," it gargled. I turned my head, but all I saw was the inky blackness beneath the trees. The sun was setting, and the sky was a fiery orange. "Many moons ago now. I was stabbed in the back by people I would call friends." There was the sound of the soles of feet thudding against soil."Tell me, Ollos; where are your friends now? I am surrounded by my friends."
"Bullshit," I spat. "There's no one else here. You're the last one; the only person alive on the Aurora."
"Yes," the voice grumbled. "Although It is able to bring corpses back from death, It got me before I died." I heard the padding of feet again. Then I heard another pair walking towards me, and another behind me, and more and more all around me. "I haven't a clue how It found Its way to the Aurora, but I am glad It did." Then an arm shot from the blackness; an arm close to the ground. It was clawing at the soil, dragging a body along behind it. It was an arm as black as night, the skin hugging the bone, half decayed.
All along it were bulbous green growths.
Eventually the crawling man revealed himself. The eyes and face were familiar but unrecognisable to Ollos. Then a woman, decayed and covered in green spots, lumbered slowly out of the undergrowth. More and more of these zombie-like creatures came from the trees; some hopped on one foot, some dragged a legless torso out of the ferns, but all had stab wounds, and all were dead.
But this man was saying that he was alive. This thing that had caught the corpses, and made them move again, had perhaps found this man before he died. How strong would that make him?
"Who the hell are you?!" I demanded. "Show yourself!"
All of the lifeless stopped, and now there was only one pair of thudding feet I could hear, slowly coming closer. I saw the glowing green dots in the dark before the rest of the body, but I could already tell that his skin was pink and not decayed. He walked more like a human, but still with a hint of death in him. The figure coughed. He emerged from the darkness, and almost gave me a heart attack when I saw him. He looked into my eyes with a sadistic smile. This man was the only person I had ever feared more than Malla; the only reason I was in the situation I'm in now.
Seth...
Jack had been the first to notice, four days prior. Once every two days the iceberg finished a full rotation, and for one of those days we could make out a menacing green dot amongst the blue-white frost. We had no telescopes, no binoculars, no proper way of seeing what was going on over there. I didn’t think much of this; moss grew on surfaces all of the time. Whenever I told Jack this, he would remind me that moss couldn’t grow on ice, to which I always reminded him we were on an alien world where all laws we knew might be thrown out the window. “On Obraxis Prime,” I told him, “I’ve heard that veins of Arraxium burst out the ground like pillars, and regrow like trees.”
I calmed everyone down; told my Northerners to ignore the green dot until its danger became apparent (if it ever did become apparent). Many of my people sided with me, more than half. Jack, however, told everyone that the spot must be studied, and any threat must be eliminated before it is allowed to germinate. “We shall send a small research team to the iceberg, and they will collect samples of whatever that green patch is, and scout out the area for any signs of danger!” Ruthless wanted to bring our entire force to the iceberg, armed with whatever weaponry they could find, and destroy the entire block of ice. His pitch was met with less support than mine and Jack’s.
“As much as I feel a trip to the iceberg would be a waste of resources,” I sighed, “I refuse to let us fall into dictatorship. We are a democracy, and I shall allow you to decide on our course of action.”
Ruthless hadn’t a hope in hell of winning this vote; he was used to gunning down Kharaa, and needed an excuse to fight once again. He claimed that the green patch resembled the moss he saw when fighting Kharaa in a space station orbiting Saturn, but this was most likely a lie, I and Jack agreed. Jack, however, had a chance of winning this vote; if truth be told, he breathed our little group into existence; without him killing Seth, we would still be dancing on Malla’s grave, fighting Sasha and engaging in all that pointless conflict. It was an undesirable thought at best. The cuts on the shoulders used to be a sign of Seth’s leadership, but now it was something that all Northerners wore. It was a symbol of our history, and we learned to wear the scars with pride. But now, with two infants among us, it was a question of whether we should give them the scars as well.
All this says is that Jack has respect amongst the Northerners, and a good chance of winning this vote.
I, however, was their leader, and had been from the beginning. I was their saviour, their redemption. I was the sole survivor of the very first ship to crash here, the flagship of this entire shitshow. The Last Eclipse, some had taken to calling me. Whenever the great red moon swallowed up the sun, my people would scream my name. I told them to stop, but they wouldn’t. Somehow they have granted me, their pointless leader, more respect than the man who actually birthed our faction.
I brought this up in conversation with Jack once. We were talking about Sasha’s child, and whether he would grow to see his adult years, and whether he would see them here or in the Federation if he did. We spoke about the baby at length, and I told Jack things I would never tell anyone else about that child, things that nobody else knew. That conversation began with us being close friends, and ended with that friendship in tatters. I never should have told him. And I never should have reminded him about the respect I’m given, and that he deserves more.
The polls opened, and after a tense hour of voting it was all done. I counted up the votes. It took an hour more, and I had won by three. It was time to tell Jack.
Perhaps he saw it in my face, or in my walk, but he knew before I even reached him. “You don’t deserve this,” Jack scoffed. “You don’t deserve any of this.
“I know,” I told him. “But a vote’s a vote, there’s nothing I can do about it. I only won by three, Jack; that’s something for us both to be proud of.”
“I thought you were a good man,” he hissed, “but you’ve kept secrets from all of us. Were you planning on ever telling me, without me trying to convince you for a whole month? I saw you were hiding something; others are too dull to see, but secrets are painted on people’s faces the moment they promise to keep them. I saw it on you the day I crawled out of the water and spoke to you, and only now I’m getting it out of you.”
“I never said I was a good man,” I shook my head. “All that matters is that I’m trying to be. Please, Jack; do the same. Just try to see it in me; I want to do right by-”
“It won’t be long,” Jack interrupted. “Not long now until someone asks her the question. How will she answer?”
“Stop it.”
“You know how, don’t you? We both know.” We stared into each other’s eyes for five seconds. In his eyes I saw cruelty. I hope he saw the same in me. “The answer can topple empires, and crush leaders under the rubble. Who else knows, I wonder?” He began to walk away. “Someday they’ll know.”
The air was growing colder. Instead of rain softening the beaches, plain-white snow dusted it in a sort of strange beauty. The people scurried around, readying themselves for the true winter to begin. More than half of the Islanders began a huge hunt for fish, and in the first three days they had caught several hundred for the winter. The only people who stayed behind were those unfit to swim (the old, the ill and the pregnant, mostly). Sasha had been gone for seven weeks. She was assumed dead by most, and those that thought her still alive were conspiracy-nuts, and not in their right minds. They would likely die in the blizzards to come. If snow fell this harshly in late autumn, the heart of winter would spell death for most.
I was to keep Jack Corren under close guard. The baby was never happy; he only ever cried and slept and ate. All we ever did was put him to sleep, give him food and clean up the mess that followed. It was said that babies had a way of knowing the well-being of their parents, and I didn't take Jack's crying as a good omen at all. All we had heard of the voyage was of the battle between the enemy's Interception and Jacob Sand's Hydra. The Hydra had returned to port with tales of how the enemy fell, but of Sasha we knew nothing.
That was until a seamoth skid across the white banks of the island, its engine letting off an unhealthy whirr, its class cracked and it metal rusted and covered in alien barnacles. The lights inside flickered on and off, the blue flashing seen from behind a clouded windshield. But there was the shadow of a someone inside, banging against the glass for freedom. I grabbed my stasis rifle and slammed its butt-end against the cracks in the glass. A handful of chips fell inward, and suddenly a voice funnelled through the hole the strike made. "Help me! Get me out of here!" Ovel screeched in a gargled, inhumane voice. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot and his blows to the glass were frail.
"Keep out of the way!" I warned him, and he scurried back into the corner of the moth. I lay another strike on the glass, and then a final third blow sent the shield caving in. I reached in a hand and Ovel gladly took it, heaving himself out of the vehicle and onto the sand and snow. Then I saw it; Sasha's body lying behind the moth's seat.
"Get her out!" Ovel staggered to his feet, and began to circle the beached moth. Almost all the island was watching. I grabbed Sasha and pulled her lifeless body out of the moth. I grabbed her hand and put my thumb over her wrist. I felt long and hard, focusing only on what I felt in my thumb. Nothing... and then a soft thump from beneath the skin.
"There's a pulse!" I declared. There were sighs of relief from all around, but also the vocal garglings of struggle from behind the crashed seamoth. I stood up and looked behind the rusty mess. Attached to the moth's arse-end was a rope, which lead down over the banks and into the frosty water. Flimsy, malnourished Ovel was trying his best to pull it up, but he was failing. I walked over to him, the snow crunching beneath the soles of my feet. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he twisted sadly around. He handed the rope to me and said something odd. "Whatever you see," he whispered, "trust me, I've seen worse."
I slipped off my black leather gloves. The skin beneath was red, and cold, and my fingers felt stiff and numb. Getting a firm grip on the rope was an intense struggle, but eventually I overcame the limitations the cold set upon me. I heaved as hard and fast as I could, and there was only the slightest budge. Whatever this was, it was incredibly heavy. I took a long, exasperated breath and continued to haul this thing out from the water. I did not think to stop for anymore breaths; I continued to pull and tug and heave at the rope until an enormous coil was forming beside me on the snow. Then it surfaced; another seamoth, even more rusted and worse for wares than the other one. In my awe I nearly lost grip, but I was able to reclaim my grasp as soon as I let go.
Now it was safely on the sand-snow beach, resting on the shore like a body on concrete. People began to gather around, but I shouted them off. A crowd was the last thing I needed. I snatched my stasis rifle from the beach and held it blunt face forwards. I quickly smashed it against the glass of the moth, but with no success. Then again, and again, and again. After seven tries the glass caved in, and sitting in the moth's seat was the last person I'd hoped to see.
I dragged Ollos out from his vehicle and threw him onto the snow. He was skinny and weak like Ovel, but he had a smile and happiness about him. Quickly I spun my rifle in my hands and shot a blast at the floored Ollos, sending him writhing about on the snow. That wiped the smile off of his face. Then Ovel came running over to me. He shook Ollos, as if he were a child waking his parents, pushing and pulling on his shoulder. Then he turned to me accusingly. "He is going to help us!" Ovel insisted. "He said he would! He said he would when Seth came!"
Seth? Seth was dead. Ovel was clearly delusional. "Calm down, Ovel. Someone get Sasha inside! And drown Ollos!"
"You don't make the call!" Ovel wailed. "Sasha does! She saw them too! Her knee is badly wounded, Zanos; she needs intense care! I kept it patched up with seaweed, so I'm guessing it's infected by now!"
"We're killing Ollos!" I kicked snow in Ovel's direction. "This is another one of his tricks; a manipulation of a fragile and broken mind like yours. Ovel, please! I implore you to see the truth to this! Ollos will kill all of us the first chance he gets!"
Jacob Sand marched into the centre of the ring, barging through the spectators. "It pains me to say it, Zanos, but Ovel is absolutely right. It is not your call to make, it's Sasha's."
I glared at Sand with what I hoped was a vicious eye. I thought about what was to be said to him, when eventually I came to an only somewhat pleasing two words, which both meant a whole deal more. "Where's Yakon?" I asked.
"Keeping Jack quiet. You've probably woken him up by now, though, with your racket." Two men barged through the crowd and picked up Sasha by the arms. The hauled her over their shoulders and dragged her away from the commotion. "We're going to get Sasha and Ovel fed. You can look after Ollos." I looked down at the sadistic little twat on the floor, and he was staring up at me with wide, increasingly uncomfortable eyes. He took short and deep breaths.
"You have two choices, Zanos," Ollos grinned up at him as Jack walked off over the snowy hills. "You can kill me, and probably be slaughtered by your own people, or you could let me live and they'll let you live in return." He was right. Completely right. I hated it. I hated it when my enemies were right. "What's it going to be, Zanos?" He called up in a raspy voice. "What will you choose?"
I wonder, how did Ollos escape from Zeth (Zombie Seth) alive.
I'm just waiting for a retrospective chapter in the future by Ollos. That would be awesome.
The journey home was a nightmare; we had minimal food, minimal water, and were moving rather slowly due to Ollos's moth being brought along for the ride. Where it would have taken us a single week to return home it had taken two. On the first day Ovel told me about what had happened to him and Ollos on the Aurora. There were only certain aspects of the battle that stayed with me. I remembered seeing familiar faces, all decayed and maggot-ridden and grey, their teeth (if they had any) yellow and their hair grey and black and falling away. I remembered watching Ollos run down the side of the Aurora as quickly as he could, nearly tripping with every long stride he took, his arms flailing as if they had sprung from their sockets and the shoulder. Behind him was the horde of dead men that he said had chased him for an hour. Some of them ran, some of them lumbered slowly down the slope, and some crawled. But they were all fast, and that was what was most important. Ovel had grabbed Ollos's heat ray from the ocean (it hadn't floated very far when he arrived) and began to shoot at the enemy.
Jack's crying woke me. I was slumped in a chair in the base, a blanket over me. Jack's crib was in the centre of the circular room, and around the room's edges were five chairs, three with someone in them. The first housed me, covered in bandages like a mummy. To my left was Ovel, still fast asleep. Ollos sat opposite me, snoring through his nose quite peacefully. He twitched and snorted in his sleep, and shook his shoulders. His eyes moved under their lids. I was slowly growing more and more tired. Eventually the baby's crying became a rhythm in my ears and I began to fall asleep again. Even with the baby balling, I slipped back into my dream.
I had been patched up, yet I was still unable to walk. I had been dragged to the moth, and Ovel and Ollos were still outside, the man with the pistol and the monster with an enormous block of titanium. They battered and shot the dead as best they could, but nothing stopped them. Blows to the chest, the head, the stomach; nothing seemed to stop them. The only way to keep them at bay was to incapacitate them by removing each of their limbs or burn them (the heat ray set one of the dead's clothes alight, and this is how we knew that fire destroyed them). The green lumps plaguing their body swelled and pulsed, and sometimes popped letting loose disgusting green liquid. Luckily none of the goo touched Ovel or Ollos before they boarded their moths. Unluckily, however, it touched and arose something else; something that should have remained dead.
The reaper's skin was discoloured and its mandibles flailed madly. It looked to be having difficulty swimming, appearing as though an eight year old had taken the wheel of a lorry. This only lasted for a few minutes, however. The green bulbs sprouted on its skin soon enough, and it charged at Ollos with full force. It shielded its face with its four mandibles and crashed into Ollos's moth, sending it spiralling to the sea floor. For some reason Ovel insisted that we dive down to help him. This is where I fell out of consciousness.
I woke up in the late morning. I could see the mist outside seeping in through the door, they sun's rays barely seeping through the low clouds. Ollos and Ovel were already gone. Jack had stopped crying, which was hardly surprising. But this morning wasn't normal by any means; the lights flickered on and off, there was no whirring of electrics from behind the walls, and it was deadly quiet outside. I picked myself up and peered out through the door. There was nothing outside but the snow and the fog. I looked around the room; no one was there save me. Then I heard a shout outside, as if someone was announcing something. Now I was beginning to feel scared. I grabbed the spine of the chair with both hands and lifted myself onto my feet. I stumbled forwards with the pain in my knee and I slammed against the crib, rocking it. It nearly toppled over, but I grabbed its rims with my hands and pulled it upright again. "Sorry, Jack," I muttered. Then I looked inside the crib and my heart sank. Tears welled in my eyes and my blood ran colder than winter air.
"All of you need to step the hell back!" I could only see Ollos's silhouette in the mist; he stood by the water, his pistol in one hand and Jack in the other, the boy pressed tightly against his chest. He was accompanied by three men, one to his left and two to his right, all armed with a large rifle, each of which I presumed to be deadly. There were only a handful of Islanders at the scene; the entire Island guard and a few others. The rest either slept or watched from the windows. I limped closer to the scene. The air was clod. Everything was cold.The snow crunched beneath my feet, and when my soles sank through I could feel the damp cold sand below.
"Ollos, drop the baby and we'll let you leave in peace," All Zanos had was a stasis rifle. He had it aimed at Ollos, and the rest of the island guard had theirs pointed at his accomplices. As I drew closer, faces began to emerge. Behind Ollos's barrels were two of Jacob Sand's scientists and engineers (probably spies planted amongst the Islanders since the beginning). The third man still could not be seen. I limped closer and closer. The wound in my knee began to sting more than anything I had ever felt; I was pushing it far too much. But I would not go without seeing this traitor's putrid face. Eventually it revealed itself. The revelation made me extremely uncomfortable. Ovel stood with Ollos, his face showing worry and hatred; there was no love there. He shuffled his feet around in the snow, and his fingers fiddled around on the gun.
"Ovel!" I yelled. He turned to look at me, startled, as did Ollos and Ollos's gun. Ovel's head drooped. I stopped myself before I came too close. "Ollos, give me back my son!" He chuckled.
Zanos rushed over to me. "Sasha," he put his arm over me like a barrier between me and Ollos. "Get back inside; we'll get your son back."
"What do you think you're going to do with those stasis rifles, Zanos?!" Ollos squeezed Jack closer to his chest, and his hand fastened even tighter around his pistol. "If you taze me, you taze the boy, and a charge that strong would probably kill poor Jack over here. So how do you plan on getting him back?" It was only now that I noticed four seamoths behind Ollos, all poking out of the water, all their hatches opened and ready for boarding. Ollos wasn't going to kill Jack at all; he was going to take him.
I heard the crunching of another set of feet just at the top of the hill, climbing over the sandy shoulder of the alien weapon. I turned around to see Jacob Sand scurrying down the sides of the gun, his arms stretched out for balance. "Kerrid?!" He yelled at one of the engineers beside Ollos. "Arrivir?! What in the hell do you think you two are doing alongside that madman?!"
Ollos didn't hesitate. A shot of heat burst from Ollos's pistol and pierced Jacob's thigh. He was sent to one knee, and sooner than he fell he began to roll down the bank of sand by the weapon, a carpet of blood following him as he tumbled down through the snow. "Traitor!" Ollos yelled at him. "Next time it'll be your head, mark my words!" Ovel flinched, and shuffled uncomfortably as Jacob fell. Yakon burst over the hill and skidded down it to Jacob. He cupped him in his arms and began beating at the unconscious man's heart to no avail.
Ovel turned to look at Ollos. Zanos was talking to them, but I wasn't paying attention to his words; I was only focusing on the movements of Ollos and Ovel. They peered around at each other, Ovel in rage and Ollos in caution. Ovel gripped his rifle even harder. Then he turned as quickly as his body would allow. His arms snapped around to Ollos, the barrel of his gun pointed straight towards Ollos. But the madman was quicker, and more agile with his pistol. With a quick flick of his wrist, and the pull of a trigger, a blast was sent spiralling through the air and into Ovel's chest. He veered back and shot his rifle in the air twenty times as he fell to the snow. Ollos's pistol quickly snapped back to Zanos. "Don't move or I'll shoot you brains out!" He screamed. Jack began to cry. "Shut it!" Ollos shook the baby. Then he pointed the gun at me and began to back up to his moth. "You don't move either, Sasha." He reached the edge of the beach, where the water hit the snow. "And don't say a god damn thing."
He froze for a second. He looked at Jacob, who was still floored, and speaking into his walkie-talkie (most likely to the crew of the Hydra, telling them that Ollos was free, and about to pass by). Ollos looked down at Ovel's body, which still twitched and writhed on the floor; he was almost dead now. Then he looked back at me. He looked at me for a long time, sometimes switching to look at the gun, but always back to me. His grasp became stronger on the pistol. The baby was crying. I knew I couldn't move; if I did he would shoot me. He was considering. Then he had considered.
He flicked his wrist and fired a shot. Blood splattered against the white snow. I screamed and turned to Zanos with tears building in my eyes. There was a hole where Zanos's neck reached his right shoulder. Blood trickled down his chin. He turned what remained of his neck to look at me, and then he fell backwards onto the beach. "Zanos!" I wailed. Yakon roared and threw a stone at Ollos, but it was too late. He had already slid into his moth and closed the hatch, Jack still in his arms. His accomplices had boarded their seamoths too, and it didn't take them long to whizz away in their subs. "Jack!" I yelled.
But they were gone. All that remained of Ollos on the island was his victims and...
I staggered over to Ovel. He looked up at me through bloodshot and dying eyes. "I didn't know..." he whined. "I didn't... know..."
"You didn't know what?" I asked with gritted teeth. "Whatever it is, it doesn't matter; you chose to side with Ollos anyway."
"I was a... spy for him, like Kerrid and Arrivir... I didn't... I didn't know that he would... that he would take the... the baby... I didn't know that he would ta-" I kicked him in the head with as much force as I could muster. My blind rage curtained my pain; I could hardly even tell I was kicking him with my bad leg. I kicked him again and the pain surged through me. I used it as fuel, and ever kick got harder and harder until the pain overcame my anger, and I collapsed to my knees. I didn't look at Ovel, not wanting to see what my foot had done to his face.
I dragged myself over to Zanos's body. He stared at the sky with glossy eyes. He was always kind, always caring. He was someone who I never expected to go away; he was there to help and that was all he was; loyal and loving till the day he died. The wound in his neck had not itself generated any blood, but it had sent spills surging through his mouth and onto the snow. The scar across his neck and shoulder was a deep cut and burn, but his mouth was drenched with red. How would I cope without him. How would I cope without Zanos?
I picked myself up and took three steps towards Jacob before collapsing again. He had survived Ollos's attack. Yakon was already there over him, taking care of the wound in his leg. "Sasha," he said. "We will get your son back. If it's the last thing we ever do, we will get him back. No matter what it takes."
"Yes," I said through teary eyes and a blocked throat. "However long it takes, and whatever the price, we will not stop until he's back in my arms." The mist was beginning to lift. In the distance was the ghostly silhouette of the Aurora. It danced in the shadows and the fog, the trees on its back bristling in the wind like waves in the ocean. The sun above looked only like a white circle in the mist. Looking at it didn't hurt the eyes whatsoever. It was a strange sort of beautiful. Then it began to grow smaller; the enormous red moon was beginning to engulf the sun from behind the fog. The star grew smaller, and the world became darker and darker, until I could see nothing but pitch blackness around me. Jacob Sand grinned and laughed. "A sign of good fortune, perhaps." He commented. I was inclined to agree. I would need as much luck as I could get.
"I'll take it," I wiped my tears away. "Even if it is just an Eclipse."
ACT 2 COMING SOON
I could have done a better job setting Jack's kidnapping up, and at the moment it does look like a really big plot hole.
I'm not going to spoil anything, but there is definitely a reason for it. My stance on events like this is that if you explain what's going to happen, when it does happen it looses its urgency. If you had gotten a Zenn perspective chapter with Seth saying that Malla was going to be killed it would have taken away from the experience. If it all happens and then I explain why afterwards it is a lot more fulfilling.
I just could have improved on the way I set up Ollos taking Jack. It'll make sense, though; I promise.