“Cynthia,” he said, nearly collapsing at her feet, “you’re alive!”
“Of… course…. I am.” Her breath was shallowing. “Why… wouldn’t… I?” She felt herself fading; soon, she would no longer be here. She saw his worried expression and she smiled. “I’m… fine… Don’t—”
The door slid open with a hiss. Simon left her side quietly. He lurked in the shadows, watching the entranceway. Was it a guard? If they were found…
“What’s—”
“Quiet!” Simon whispered. No one had stepped through yet. Maybe they had a chance.
An elongated shadow leaned through the doorway. One foot through and the other. He prepared for the worst, but…
A girl.
Striking blonde hair tied back with a blue bow. Sky blue dress nearly hidden in the dark. Brown flats. What was a child doing here?
“Simon,” Cynthia asked, “Who’s out there?”
“A girl,” he replied, crouching behind cover.
“What…?” Why was there a girl here? She found one of the slight gaps between boxes, and spied the young stranger. The blonde danced through the cargo bay, humming a little tune. Every so often she would sing softly, her words bouncing off of the walls. What was her purpose here? As Cynthia eyed the girl, a second shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Miss?” it called out through the gloom. “Where are you? The Captain will be—”
“I’m coming!” the girl sang, racing towards the door. For an instant, the child glimpsed the stowaways. A fleeting glance. The pair of shadows left the bay, and the door clamped shut behind them.
Silence.
The soft hum of the pipes. Frost churning out of vents hidden in the walls. Air condensing. Light drifts of snow. It landed softly on the many objects in the room.
Cynthia let out a sigh of relief and called out to Simon. “We’ve made it!” He was about to turn to her when—
—something jostled the ship, sending her flying. She landed on a stack of boxes and slumped to the cold surface.
Her wounds reopened. Blood dripped to the floor, staining the snow.
“Cynthia?” Simon turned from his cover. He sprinted over to her, crashing into a stack of boxes, toppling them. They hit the floor like a thousand beads. “Cynthia!” he cried, putting pressure on the wounds. She smiled at him, trying to reassure him.
I’ll be fine.
It didn’t work. Salty tears fell on her face. He was refusing to let her die. She reached up her hand to wipe away the tears.
“Don’t worry… Simon,” she choked. “I’ll…” Her eyes glazed over, their once emerald hue now a transparent silver. Her irises morphed; they were dark as night. Her hand dropped slowly to the floor. “I’ll…” Her voice was almost gone. Her heartbeat slowed.
“No…” Simon pleaded, pressing harder on her injuries. “Don’t… don’t go.” He lowered his head, checking on her breathing. “Cynthia…”
They tumbled backwards. She crashed into him, and hit the floor. Boxes teetered and toppled to the floor. The hum of the engines was distant, like static. Vaguely, she could feel the air lifting them up, sweeping them off the deck. She smiled, as zero gravity held them aloft. The sun’s rays shone on her from windows near the ceiling. When they stabilized, she found herself crying.
They were free.
Chapter VI
Lullaby
Somewhere deep in his memory, Simon thought he heard a lullaby. It sounded soothing, but he couldn’t figure out where it was from.
How did it go again? Simon thought as he searched through the whiteness of the world. Here, there was no darkness, no black. Only the sweet comforting breezes of his early home. He smiled at oncoming people like it was any other day. His parents comforted him, praised him. He laughed at it all.
Nothing could be better.
And then reality struck him. All of the cheerful and kind faces disappeared. The white complex was gone, only the pitch-black dark remained. It enveloped him and sent him into a panic. He lowered himself to the floor and hugged his knees.
A lullaby rang through the void. The blackness vanished, and a soft glow woke Simon.
He found himself sleeping on the hard, wooden surface of his desk, a lamp shining brightly in his eyes. He blinked and stood. The early morning had taken a sudden shift. The windows now revealed a brisk dusk the color of tea. Simon stretched and headed towards the garage door. After all, he still had work to finish.
But as he began to twist the knob, a soft knock on his door startled him. It was early evening, why would anyone visit him now? His shop was closed today. He waved the thought off and continued onto the garage, but the caller was persistent.
And when the knocking stopped, his mind clicked. He ran towards the door.
The bright sunset cast the figure in shadows. Simon only shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t felt like this since…. Even now, she was still bringing surprises into his life.
He cracked a smile and said, “You’re late, you know.”
“I know. Sorry about that,” she smiled back. The sunset shone brightly behind her, painting a vivid scene beyond.
“Welcome back, Cynthia,” he murmured as he let her inside the shop.
She nodded as Simon led her in. The artificial light of the room lit up his surroundings; his eyes widened once more. Her long auburn hair that was usually set tight in a braid was now cut to the length of her shoulders. Her outfit was even more surprising. A dark red tee and belted navy jeans were covered by an overcoat that almost reached her ankles. Short brown boots clicked across the floor. She wore a gold necklace that gleamed in the light.
Simon heard the scuffling of drawers opening and closing.
“What are you looking for?” he asked politely.
“Plans, I guess,” she mumbled.
“Plans?” he questioned. “For what?”
“Rangers,” she calmly replied.
Simon stopped dead in his tracks. Rangers?
He stood there, stupefied. Those mechs? The ones that destroyed their planet? He stood there, staring at her. She replied with annoyance and sarcasm.
“Really now, Simon, shouldn’t you be more worried about these…” she looked around the workshop. “Creations of yours?”
Simon walked towards the desk and its scattered contents. The wooden desk was storage of sorts, housing all of his notes and plans from the past years. Books were stacked with bookmarks sticking out. Many a night had he spent here, thinking.
He shuffled his papers around he found a stack of blue sheets of light weight holofilms. He pulled one from the stack and tapped the right-hand corner. The screen lit up to reveal a three-dimensional image that hovered a few inches above the desk. He stepped back and motioned Cynthia towards the model.
“Amazing,” she murmured, swiping the image around until she reached its name.
“Genesis.” She was astounded beyond belief. Simon grinned at the recognition of his work. What could be more satisfying than this?
“So, you built one too, huh?” Cynthia turned her back on his project and looked him straight in the eye.
Simon was caught off guard.
“Huh?” he asked.
She laughed. A playful laugh, one not unlike before, when their lives weren’t as complicated. When the only problem they worried about was the day ahead of them. It was as though their lives were back. Their former selves reappeared. Simon’s eyes widened at the realization.
Their former selves. Why was he referring to himself in the past tense? Wasn’t he here now, in the present? Right in front of him was his best friend, laughing almost hysterically now.
He sighed and put up a mock defensive barrier, his hands held high and his tone almost angry.
“What’s so funny?” he said.
“Nothing, nothing at all!” she choked out. Cynthia was near the floor, holding her belly and tears flowing out of her eyes. Happy tears, for once.
“Nothing?” Simon stooped down beside her a
nd waited as she calmed from her fit.
“It’s just…” She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I didn’t believe you could actually build one of them, you know?” She pointed to the papers strewn across his desk. “A Ranger.”
“I know, right?” he stood up and offered his hand. Cynthia shook her head and rose. Simon chuckled and stole a glance at her eyes. Deep crimson replaced the emerald he had once known. He blinked, and her eyes were green again. Cynthia cleared her throat and spoke.
“I’m becoming a pilot, Simon.”
He froze. What had she said? It couldn’t be; it was impossible. Cynthia wanted to become a pilot? To what end? His breath quickened.
“Cynthia…” he choked out.
Her eyes seemed blank now, forlorn. Their glint all but vanished. Had she been putting up an act for their reunion? She smiled briefly.
“You’ve been busy, I guess,” she said. “We haven’t seen each other in, what, three years?”
Simon nodded and listened on.
“I, at the very least,” Cynthia continued, “knew this was going to happen. We both would go our own separate ways and it was likely we would never see each other again.” She spun the model around with her fingers.
“I know that—”
“You know, huh?” she interrupted. “Know what? That our planet was destroyed by the very thing that was supposed to protect us?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Simon exclaimed.
If it wasn’t for them, our planet would still be habitable. He shook his head. But who was to blame, exactly? Who?
Cynthia nodded in agreement, as if she had heard his thoughts. Her eyes flicked from him to the machine. What was she thinking? He didn’t need any pilots yet.
She handed him the holofilm and announced, “If you won’t run, I will.”
What was she talking about now? Why didn’t she just want to live a peaceful life as he did now?
But she didn’t. Not with the perpetrators still lurking among the stars.
“I find it interesting,” Cynthia began, “that you aren’t speaking at all in this supposed two-sided conversation, dear old friend of mine.” She tapped him on the head. She handed him an imaginary microphone and mimicked a news anchor’s voice.
“Your thoughts on the matter, Mr. Mechanic?”
Simon was taken aback. “Um, erm…well…” He played along with her game. “I guess I would want us to live peacefully, you know?”
Cynthia laughed at him and snatched the mike away.
“Peace?” she scoffed. “Peace with the knowledge of things never truly ending, never ceasing? What are you now, Simon?”
“What am I now?” he asked. It appeared Cynthia was mocking him, but it seemed to come with something else. Something nerve-racking to figure out. It was like trying to complete a thousand-piece puzzle: the challenge was always there, slipping through his fingers as though it was sand.
His ears perked up at tapping. Whether it was the tiny movements of fingers, or the annoyingly rhythmic tapping of shoes, Simon couldn’t tell. All he needed to know was that the person in front of him had somehow procured a piece of rolled-up paper. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Cynthia?” Simon called out nervously. Quickly diffusing the situation was key if he didn’t want to be beheaded. But the she stood stock-still, as if waiting for her prey to run.
“Hey,” Simon began, inching his way towards her. “Surely you wouldn’t—”
“Simon.”
He stopped. What would she conjure up now? He stroked his hair. He was leaning on the edge of insanity here. Only a few minutes had passed and here she was, driving him crazy again!
She rushed towards him and dragged him up by his collar. Her eyes bored into his and she laughed, saying, “You didn’t learn anything that I was trying to ram into your head, did you?” She knocked him on the head and dropped him on the floor. Oh.
Simon jumped back up and his brain finally registered the words. Oh, he thought as his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m an idiot.”
“Of course you are,” Cynthia told him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t still be my friend.” Simon looked at her with mock anger, and she held up her hands.
“I’m kidding, of course.” She looked confident, unlike him.
If only….
By the time they settled into the workshop, the stars were gleaming brightly. Cricket-like creatures chirped outdoors. The light flickered then dimmed, and, with a puff, was extinguished. Simon felt his way around the desk, knocking over an antique. It toppled and rolled off the desk, shattering on the floor. He sighed and searched for the broken glass in the near-blackness. Stars illuminated the room with a glowing softness like that of a painter’s brush stroking canvas. Scattered pieces cut his hands when he brushed them aside. Blood dripped from the small cuts and left crimson stains on the floor. He grimaced and collected the broken glass into a pile. The starlight was enchantingly beautiful now, as it breathed light into the dusty, ancient shop.
Would the nights of Shadow ever cease to amaze him?
Simon shook his head and focused on the task in front of him.
The glass was just about swept up when a wave of nausea hit him. He stumbled and very nearly fell. Dark droplets ran down his fingers like paint running. Simon felt suddenly weak and sunk to the floor. His wounds hadn’t started to scab yet; they would need more time to heal. All he needed right now was to lie down, but that wasn’t an option. He still had things to finish. How would he remove the glass like this?
His vision cleared and he saw the planet’s moon, Luxo. Simon watched it until it disappeared behind passing clouds. He watched the skies until he drifted off to sleep.
The sun was barely over the horizon, showering the world with brilliant pinks and reds when Simon awoke. He reached up and groped for a handhold and found the edge of the hard, wooden desk. He tried to pull himself up, but his hand slipped from the desk and he slumped back down to the floor. Simon tried once again to get up from the dust-covered floor. This time, he was successful, and although he was leaning heavily on it for support, he was upright. He scanned the room and found the sleeping figure near the door. Cynthia was still wrapped in an old blanket. Why had she stayed again? Simon knew that she must have something else to do, right? Somewhere better to be? This planet was not exactly a vacation paradise. Had she wanted to stay, or was she worried about him?
He wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next. Right in front of him, a person appeared, smiling.
“Cynthia!” Simon breathed out when his lungs refilled with air. He breathed again and grasped his burning shoulder. He wasn’t surprised by this particular act, in fact, he had almost expected this behavior out of her. When they were younger, there was a period of time in which she would try this every time they met. Thankfully, he’d gotten used to it. So, when Cynthia began giggling at her prank, he used the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her, causing her to fall flat on the floor. Simon to burst out laughing.
“Man,” Cynthia groaned as she wiped off the dust from her coat.
“You should’ve expected that!” Simon laughed.
“I couldn’t expect that even if I tried!” Cynthia complained. She rolled up the blanket to put it away. When she collected all of her gear, she held out her hand and said, “Well… see you around?”
Simon shook her hand and met her eyes.
“All right then, but if you ever come back, be prepared!” he warned her with a smile.
Cynthia nodded and headed towards the door. He stood in the doorway and watched as she walked away. He waved at her back, then went back in his shop, his mind racing with thoughts of Cynthia. Had she forgiven him? This was the last time they’d see each other. He hoped she had. He couldn’t make up for it now.
The lights had returned.
Simon was amazed. Last night, darkness had enveloped the room like a shell. Today, the room was ablaze with light. A quiet hum reverberated through
the room, catching him by surprise. Why was that sound familiar? It repeated, over and over again. Highs and lows. Highs and lows. Simon folded his hands together behind his back and winced. He would still need time to heal.
Still wondering, something caught his eye. He peered at the window, and his eyes filled with tears.
There, resting on the windowsill, was a flower.
Chapter VII
Roster
There she was, leaning against the walls of a spaceport. She held a map in her hand, and for once in her life, she was dumbfounded. Bellor was a labyrinth unlike any other city she’d seen. Wind swept the streets and shops filled with tourists were scattered like stars. Bellor was the luxurious capital of Florentine, one of the innermost and developed planets in the galaxy. But Cynthia only cared about one thing: City Hall.
There, her journey would begin.
She stood and began her hike to the famous building. Rumors of a recruiting center at the building traveled like wildfire. Women whispered, men glanced at papers, and wherever she went, people talked. Now, she, too, would join the infamous military of the Alliance.
The stonework of the streets rubbed at her shoes. Voices chattered from streets and shops.
Planes flew overhead.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find no one there.
Strange…
She shrugged it off and hurried along with the crowd.
Another tap.
Cynthia whipped around and found the culprit.
Glossy black hair tied in a short, bobbing ponytail, rose-colored eyes that bored into hers. Copper-tinged armor glinted in the sunlight.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he bristled.
“Same as you, I suppose,” Cynthia replied, nodding towards the building.
Then she was surprised, as she realized she had misread this stranger.
She was a woman.
“Well then,” she ordered in a deep voice, “let’s get going.”
Cynthia took a step back in surprise.
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