With Eyes Turned Skyward

by Gregory Stravinski

  Coughing, Raltz sets me down. “Sabine!” he shouts.

  I’m not used to hearing panic in his voice. He doesn’t look back before sprinting to the pile of twisted metal choking the tunnel. He begins prying away the debris with his gloved hands, shouting her name. Raltz is a strong man, but I already know there won’t be anything he can do to remove the rest of the support beams blocking our path back. Sabine, Baltier, and most of the forward strike team have disappeared underneath the cave in.

  I prop myself up on my elbow, dumbfounded. “Cliff!”

  There’s coughing to my left. “I’m right here, Lieutenant!”

  The slightest bit of reassurance seeps back into my chest. Covering my mouth with the fibers of my sleeve, I try to protect my lungs from the raw, dust filled air. “How many of us are left?” I ask.

  There’s a silence as Cliff double checks his count. “Twelve sir. Including you and me.”

  Twelve. We started with two full platoons, and now we’ve been whittled down to twelve.

  I fight the urge to lay my head back down and close my eyes. “Do we still have the engineers?” I ask.

  I hear a piece of scrap metal screeching across the ground as Cliff rights himself. “Brigadette!”

  Silence.

  Cliff fills his lungs again. “Giacomo!”

  Nothing.

  I get to my feet as my thoughts swarm like hornets, considering the remaining options. “I’m here!” a woman shouts out in front of us, “I’ve still got the explosives.”

  The hornets give way to one single plan. “Alright,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster, “everyone on your feet!”

  Forms around me rise as I make my way over to Raltz and his frenzied work.

  The clank of objects falling to either side of him echoes up and down the tunnel. Shivering, I think of the pilot in Shipwreck burrowing into the soil until his fingernails tore off, trapped in his mind, trying to find his friends.

  I move up behind Raltz as he muscles his way into the wall of debris. The shelling above renews, sending new pieces falling from overhead. The rumbling above warns me of much larger debris to come.

  “Raltz!” I shout.

  He continues burrowing.

  “Raltz!” I yell with more force.

  It has no effect.

  Calmly, I place a hand on his shoulder. He tenses as I make contact, but stops trying to tear the wall apart. “Raltz,” I lean in, “you know this is only wasting time.” I try not to think of the severity of what’s happened. I made a promise.

  He says nothing as he stands up straight.

  “There’s only one way to go now,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “and that’s towards the light.” I hear the shifting of metal behind me as the eyes of our survivors come to rest on us. “You and Sabine have brought us this far.” There’s no other way to say it. “We can’t stop now, after everything it’s cost us.”

  My throat swells, silently saying goodbye to Sabine. Even to Baltier. I can’t give Raltz any more encouragement without betraying that I want to stay here too. Without a sound, Raltz turns his body away. Tears line his eyes, but he makes no movement to hide or wipe them away. His bloodshot, blurry pupils fix on me.

  “Let’s destroy this place,” he growls. Pushing me aside, he picks up his gun.

  The rest of us fall in line behind him as he marches forward. The blue light ahead thickens as we approach the curve of the tunnel. There’s a pain in my chest as my heart fights the anxieties stacking against it.

  We turn the corner.

  What we see stops everyone where they stand. In front of us lies a giant capsule at the end of the tunnel. A large platform in front of the Core amplifies its unsettling vibrations as it pumps out the power needed to make this dark place fly.

  I don’t know why it happens, but it does. Before I can make them stop, my legs are carrying me to the Core as fast as I can go. I’m sprinting towards it so I can’t run away. We’re so close.

  The footfalls of my team behind me do their best to keep up. Lights and doorways flash past as we burst onto the brightly lit platform. Wind rushes past, currents pushing air in from both the open bottom and top of the ship. They surge up around the sides of the giant suspended Core, keeping it cool. It’s almost enough to distract me from the nagging question in the back of my mind.

  The question that asks: “Why is this platform so well lit?”

  The answer comes in the form of a grenade, thrown from somewhere behind the bright lights flanking us on either side of the platform. Sound clips away as it bounces to my feet. Silence reverberates as I turn on my heel to warn the others. As I pivot, more grenades rain down from above into what’s left of our party. Noise forces its way up from my lungs, through my throat, almost making it past my lips before the grenade at my feet explodes.

  23

  I taste the blood before I hear the ringing in my ears. A fault line forces its way down the center of my head. I can’t tell if it’s a physical incision, or just the concussion. I try pulling in a breath; it doesn’t work so well. I give my lungs just the bare minimum needed to keep me conscious. I open my eyes.

  The beige metal plate panels to the side of my head don’t have scorch marks on them, not ones from explosives anyway. Fighting the urge, I look down at the rest of my body. I still have legs. I still have everything, except the ability to hear and reason. The blue light given off by the Core pierces into my eyes, all but blinding me to shapes moving in front of it.

  A form rises up from the shadows below. A man walks slowly and calmly towards me, flanked by heavily-armed Cascade soldiers. I recognize him, but I’ve never seen him before.

  His lips move soundlessly as his face comes into focus. I realize I’ve seen the angles of his eyes and cheekbones before. His shock of trimmed platinum blond hair drives stakes through any other doubts.

  It’s Sabine’s father Garon. He’s come to devour his prey.

  He draws closer. My hearing begins pushing back the ringing just enough to pick up the muffled sounds around me. Groans escape as the rest of my party comes to.

  I’ve killed them all.

  The chaos of noise diminishes just enough for me to hear Garon lament to one of his officers, “Personally, I would have much preferred a method where they could have retained all of their senses.”

  Garon walks up to our disoriented group, stopping short. His dark brown eyes glide over us. Their color gives an unsettling illusion that he has no pupils.

  He raises his hands and starts clapping. “Haha, that was very good!” He points his finger into the air “Very valiant!” He pauses, pressing his face close to those scattered on the ground “Was it just as you imagined it?” he asks.

  No one says a thing. I feel my team’s eyes fall on me, searching for some direction. Scanning the ramparts on either side of us, I glimpse armed men and women in position behind the lights. If any of us were to make a move, it wouldn’t even be a fight. Garon knows this as he strides through the group. The edge of the platform beckons. If we don’t want to die by gunfire, there is another way.

  The dark leather boots find their way to my side before stopping. Garon crouches down, his face no more than a foot away from mine. “Now you,” he smiles, pointing at my chest, “I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.”

  My revolver lies no more than a few feet away from where we talk. I calculate the probability of grabbing it and hitting my target before we all get slaughtered. The odds aren’t enough to take the risk. That, and I’m afraid of what happens when all this ends.

  “Why?” I ask, raising my head.

  Garon gets back to his feet and begins walking back towards the Core. “Because. You’re an interesting one,” he says, turning on his heel. The light of the Core nearly envelopes him from behind. “None of us would be here if it weren’t for you,” he smiles, raising both hands. “Yet, here we are.”

  He snarls, screaming, “I can’t believe you thought you could cou
nter an agent of God!”

  I flinch. His outburst comes from nowhere. Testing my ability to move, I press my hand against the floor and prop myself up. “Do you really believe you were sent by God?” I ask.

  Garon exhales slowly, letting his shoulders roll down. “No,” he smiles, his composure once again intact. “In fact, I’m not all that religious.” He puts his hand on the holster of his gun. “But it is truly amazing what motivates people,” he says, shifting his weight. “Large groups are the easiest. Just find a common thread . . . and pull it.”

  I lean forward, gritting my teeth. “You’re a fake.”

  Garon puts up a gloved hand, waving me off. “Ohhhh, shut up,” he replies, looking at me incredulously. “I didn’t do anything that you didn’t do with your own men, Lieutenant Basmon.” He spits my name out as he finishes his sentence. It sounds like a name he’s read time and time again.

  There was a traitor among us.

  Garon’s dark eyes bore into mine. “You talked of assaulting this ship as if it would provide some unity; as if it would make them heroes.” He smiles. “From what I’ve witnessed, it’s just made most of them corpses.”

  I want to tell him he’s wrong, but the pit inside my stomach opens. It’s all true.

  “I want to thank you, by the way,” he says. “It saves me the time of washing them all away myself.”

  The hypocrisy is enough for me find my voice. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, “Destroying cities? Trying to flood the world again? What for, if you don’t believe you’re a messenger?”

  Garon scratches the bridge of his pale nose. “Because I wanted to see if I could,” he says.

  His nonchalant tone chills my blood.

  “See . . . that’s the thing about great men like you and me, Lieutenant Basmon.” Garon points back and forth between us. “That last challenge we overcome is never enough.” He smiles. “We’re never ‘satisfied’ by our accomplishments. That’s what makes us exceptional.” He gestures to the surrounding group. “That’s what makes people believe in us. Because we have ambition.”

  He raises his hands to the ceiling as the impact of another shell rocks the chamber. “I created all of this,” he taps his temple, “from my mind. None of this existed before I insisted that it should exist.” He throws his arms out to the walls. “Your intriguing alliance of nations never existed before you willed it to exist.”

  The flames of the Agincourt cut through my mind.

  He laughs, putting his thumb across his mouth. “Though I must admit, watching our two brainchildren throttle each other to the death has been quite entertaining.”

  Garon cocks his head. “You don’t even realize why you’re here . . . do you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I grate.

  “Why did the Grand Old Admiral pledge his forces and round up all of his old war buddies to help him?” Garon says. “Well, the ones who are still alive anyways.”

  “Because it was the right thing to do,” I say.

  “Ha! Ha-ha, the right thing. My goodness, they did a fantastic job choosing you,” he laughs. Garon gestures to the core behind him. “Because they wanted to cover up their dirty little secret. They wanted to wipe it all away like it never happened.”

  One of our engineers shifts her weight. Garon snaps up his pistol in her direction.

  I throw my hand in front of the barrel, pushing down towards her with the other. “Wait! Everybody wait,” I caution.

  Garon keeps the gun trained on her. “How do you think a nomadic seafaring nation gained enough capital to fund both an engine prototype and a refinery system?” he asks.

  I shake my head, indulging him. “A deep-sea trawling industry.”

  “Wrong!” Garon answers. “That’s how we sustain ourselves. The answer you’re looking for is ‘investors’.”

  It all clicks.

  “To be fair, they thought they were investing in a new power source that could change the planet. O’Phelan, Ibrahim, Vitortov, Khan. They were all in it for the same thing. They weren’t wrong, I suppose.”

  I cover my head, trying to catch my breath.

  “It didn’t last though,” Garon says pursing his lips. “Eventually they figured it out. You don’t get that rich without having an eye for detail. It didn’t matter, in the end. I had spent the last 30 years keeping a fleet patched together with driftwood. Finishing what I had started with the money they couldn’t retrieve was a simple task. Sure, they tried to get it back. Sent assassins, mercenaries, your average gun-for-hire; anyone they could to try shutting us down. They all failed. Killed several of my men and attacked my daughter, but they never got me. Although, I should thank one of my would-be saboteurs. One of the raid survivors returned to his employers and reported that I was dead.”

  Garon finally clicks the gun up. “God, the balls on that one. They eventually figured it out, but it gave me enough time to finish what you see around you now.”

  Reeling, I look up. “What do you mean ‘they chose me?’” I ask.

  “Because you’re a fucking Sea Scout,” he says. “Eager to please and not too gifted in foresight. I already knew where the other three traitors were. You would think O’Phelan and Vitortov would have been tough targets, being the gun-runners they were, but they were just cowards in the end. That left your goddamn Admiral. The tough part about killing a zep captain is, he’s always mobile.”

  Garon circles his finger. “So I figured, why chase him, when he could come to me?”

  I lower my head, pressing my eyes shut. I’ve killed all of these people.

  Garon turns his back, looking directly into the Core. “Here’s the unfortunate thing for you Mr. Basmon – it’s come time for me to declare ‘Checkmate’. You know what the most beautiful part about this is? That you all have front-row seats to experience it with me. Welcome to the next phase of human evolution.”

  He snaps his head to the side. “Do it!”

  My body jerks forward, all of the metal in my uniform pulling me towards the Core. My squad struggles against the pull as they slide across the floor. The air floods out of the chamber as the Core throws off a blinding light.

  A sonic boom hits, threatening to tear my eardrums.

  We blast back as the blue light explodes upward, surging violently from the base of the Core. Everything we’ve worked so hard for is gone. The pylon of energy focuses into the sky, punching a perfect swirling circle through the clouds. The last strands of Garon’s hair fall back into place as he turns towards us once again.

  “It has begun,” he whispers. “We’ve made it this far . . . and there’s no assurance that it will work. But by God, it is EXILHARATING!” His excitement echoes throughout the chamber.

  “Now, down to business,” Garon says. “Sabine! Where are you, my dear?”

  Silence.

  One of Garon’s officers approaches him from the side. “She’s not here sir. We’ve checked all of the captured.”

  Garon’s eyes take on an even greater intensity. “What do you mean ‘she’s not here?’” His nostrils flare. “That’s not part of the plan.”

  Shuddering, the debris falls in my mind, crushing our teams. Garon won’t respond well when he hears what’s happened to his daughter.

  The female officer is quick to counter her leader’s souring mood. “We were able to identify Commander Raltz, however.”

  Some of the fire disappears from Garon’s eyes as a new task arises. “Bring him here,” he growls.

  Two guards grab the arms of the hulking mass at the edge of our circle, dragging Raltz in front of Garon. Raltz raises his head. A cut runs from the corner of his mouth all the way to his ear. He’s been beaten severely, but his eyes don’t betray any sign of defeat. I watch them judging the distance between him and Garon, then the distance between him and the edge of the platform. Neither length is very far.

  I close my eyes, praying Raltz doesn’t make a move that will get us all shot. We can work our way out of this; I know we can.<
br />
  Garon watches with glee as Raltz devises a strategy. “Always the soldier, Raltz. Looks like I’ve trained you well,” he says, running a finger along the top of his pistol. “Now tell me . . . where is my daughter?”

  Raltz’s face hardens. “She’s gone Garon,” he manages, bringing his eyes up to meet her father’s. There’s more pain in them than hatred. “A shell collapsed one of our tunnels, taking her with it,” he says.

  The din of the Core pumping its energy upwards is the only thing breaking the silence. Its light casts a full shadow on Garon’s face. I can’t read his expression from here. He makes no movement.

  Garon exhales slowly, clucking his tongue. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

  Raltz barely lets out a shout before Garon pulls the trigger. The gun’s retort drowns out most of Raltz’s yell, snapping his head back. The guards let go of his arms, dropping him; even they seem surprised.

  I hold my breath, digging my nails into the plating below. They’re executing us. This is it. Eyeing the distance between Garon and the ledge, I try working out a scenario where we all don’t die. All Garon has to do is give the signal, and it’ll be open season on the rest of us.

  The Chieftain sighs. “Tsk, I was expecting something far more courageous from the great Commander Raltz. How disappointing . . . ”

  Shifting his weight, he kicks the expended shell casing off the ledge and towards the Core. It dips slightly before shooting into the Core’s center.

  “I suppose it was my fault,” Garon continues. “I didn’t give him very much warning, did I? How was I supposed to get a good reaction from him if he didn’t even know to play his part?”

  The cavern shakes as more shells hammer the Ark’s outer plating. Praying for some sort of deus ex machina, I glance at the celling, willing it to fall in. Just one more time; just enough to shuffle the deck and give us one last chance.

  “What about you all?” Garon questions, looking to the rest of us. “I bet you’ve got some pretty expressive folks among you.” His footsteps echo as he walks to Cliff’s feet. “What about you sir, what’s your name?”