“It’s nothing,” he insisted.
“Nothing?”
“Yes, nothing,” he reassured her, avoiding her gaze. Amelia studied him, but decided not to press further. She swung her legs out and stood, wobbling with the effort.
“Wait!”
“I’m not waiting,” Amelia told him. “I have to get back. I have—” She stumbled, and crashed to the floor.
“You’re not well enough!” Simon warned her, helping her stand again. “Who knows what’ll happen?”
“Then, what should I do, Mister Engineer, huh?” She pushed away from him. “Have you ever piloted? Or even ever thought of the risks? Have—”
“I have piloted. I’ve risked my life and the lives of my friends before, so don’t you presume to think you know me,” Simon snapped. He stared at her, fire in his eyes.
Amelia started to walk to the door, turning back to say, “Fine, then. You’ll just have to find another pilot.” She walked out, slamming the door behind her.
She had only made it to the main road where he found her sprawled out on the curb. Her face was pale, sweat rolling off of her cheeks and onto the gravel. Simon felt her forehead: a fever.
You storm out, only to have this happen? What kind of pilot are you?
“Come on,” Simon said, “let’s go home.”
“Home…?” she mumbled, gratefully leaning her weight on him. Soon she was asleep, trailing behind him. He had to carry her the rest of the way.
“Wake up!” he shouted, but to no avail. She was out cold. And she wouldn’t let go of his of his neck. He opened the door and set her back down onto her new bed, the couch. From this angle, she looked like a toddler.
Simon glanced out the window at Genesis, then back to the sleeping figure before him. One more run. Is that what you want?
He gritted his teeth and set back out to work.
Night had fallen.
Out in the spotlight was one lone shadow, his features obscured by the panel. While everyone else slept, he reviewed the accident. If only he could find the problem….
Nothing. Not one speck of failure. Everything had worked perfectly, so why…? Simon buried his head in his hands. It all was a blur. All of it. His memories wouldn’t stay still, even if only for a moment. They danced around in his head, recreating terrors beyond his imagination. Now that he thought about it, the AI theory didn’t fit. It was only supposed to run analytics, not the operating system itself. The possible candidates dwindled with each hypothesis and test.
None of them were proven right.
All he was waiting for now was the dawn.
Being found curled up into a ball by your subordinate was not fun. In actuality, it was a terrible experience.
“Hah! Who’s the sick one here?” Amelia scoffed at him.
Simon sat up, blinking in the early sunlight. “Sick?” he questioned. “I’m not sick.” He straightened up, adding, “You, on the other hand, look dead. So, hah.” He wanted to sleep again, but she just rattled on, retorting some thing or another about his “sleeping habits.” He tuned her out, curling back under his blanket. But her nagging prevailed.
“What do you want?” he muttered.
“Another chance.” She stuck out her hand.
Simon shook it before he realized what had occurred. When he did, he tugged off the blanket, jumping up to say, “But, you can’t or you—”
“Will die?” she completed. “Haven’t we had this conversation? I will pilot. It’s just a matter of whether you’ll help me.”
“You’re stubborn. You do know that, at least, right?”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course I do!”
“Ready?” Simon called.
“All set,” Amelia replied.
“Okay. I’ll start the countdown.”
Simon swiped through the video feed and vitals. Normal. He pressed the timer and an electronic voice began the count.
“10… 9… 8…”
Her heartbeat elevated; the sensors were in place.
“…6… 5… 4…”
Thrusters set. Arming.
“…2…1….”
Joints and limbs. Nimble.
“Detaching restraints.”
And with a hiss, the trials began.
“Can you walk this time?” Simon asked.
“Sure I can. What do you take me for?” Amelia replied.
Stubbornness, check.
“How about we try for a practice field?” he suggested. “As you can see, this is… not much room.”
The head moved up and down.
Simon sent a thumbs-up, and packed the panel under his arms, waving her along.
The trek to the flower fields was much more difficult than expected. Rather than being a smooth ride, various warnings blared in their ears. The ground sank under each step, making it almost impossible to move. The visor reflected the sun, blinding him.
As they moved, the mech’s flaws became glaringly obvious. Why did he decide to humanize it, again?
The grueling journey was worth the price, for an exquisite masterpiece awaited them. An endless array of flowers spread out to the horizon: purples, whites, reds, greens.
“Amazing…” Simon whispered.
Genesis stopped, facing the view of the fields. “Beautiful,” Amelia murmured.
Simon sat down cross-legged, panel on his legs.
“Now, let’s try a run,” he spoke into the microphone.
Another nod.
Slowly but surely, step after step, Simon saw his creation run.
“Jump!” Simon ordered, and another bend in the legs, reaching towards the sky. It landed gracefully on a patch of flowers, flattening them.
Simon clapped in delight.
It worked! It really worked!
What next?
He’d recently thought about a weapons system, but scratched the idea. Where would he even get the parts? The junkyard didn’t have them. Not to mention the ammunition would be too expensive to purchase. But melee was still an option.
“Great! Here, I’m uploading some tactics to the mainframe. Wait a few seconds.” Simon encoded a few files and sent them on their way. After three minutes, he heard a ping, signaling the completion.
“That’s more than a few,” Amelia commented.
“It sure is,” Simon admitted. “Please, just try them.”
“Acknowledged,” an electronic voice answered.
“Nice impression.”
“Thanks.” And with that, Amelia followed practices from the panel. Kicks, punches, and combinations ensued.
“Excellent!” Simon cheered, wind whipping his hair. “Now, again.”
The performance was over by the time the sunset took hold, showering bewitching colors onto the field of flowers. Reds and oranges merged with the flora, burnishing them.
“Time’s up,” Simon announced.
Amelia cheered, wondering, “What’s for dinner?”
“Dinner?” He hadn’t thought of that. His stomach growled at the thought. “I don’t know, what about—”
The ground erupted next to them. Simon instinctively hit the ground, dodging the showering debris. He caught a glimpse of Genesis, but more rubble rained, dancing around him, landing harshly to the earth.
By the time he stood, it was too late.
“Amelia!” he shouted, ignoring the mike altogether. “Amelia!”
Crackling of flames. Another burst of laser fire to his right. A cry from the panel. The sun dipped below the horizon, shadows unbelievably elongated. Darkness peeked out from its cage.
He saw them. Five blurs in the darkness, nightmarish creatures blending with the night. Flickering flames leapt towards him. His body told him to run. But he couldn’t. He was rooted to the ground, frozen as though made of stone.
They flew closer. The succession of laser fire increased. He saw her take a defensive stance. He tried to warn her, but the words wouldn’t form. They too were trapped in the web.
Move. Move!
Run! The moving darkness closed the gap.
A stray laser exploded, its target: him. One of those, and he was dead.
His legs unfroze, the fright forced out. Too late. Only one more second and—
It shattered against her armor.
“You all right?” Amelia asked.
“Y-yes. I am.” Startled out of his daze, he searched for the hidden enemies. He spotted them; they were blurry, lurking in the dark.
They were surrounded.
“Run, I’ll hold them off.” Amelia’s voice was filled with bravery, determination, and… absolution.
“Run!” she yelled, springing to pounce on them. They knitted themselves into a circle, barring her escape.
Simon saw, to his dismay, he had no other option. He was caught in a battle he couldn’t fight in even if he tried. No way out for them, but for him….
He ran.
They began the offensive in a whirl of motion, their slim, agile frames dodging her oncoming attacks with ease. Every so often she hit a torso directly, forcing one of them to slink back into the circle, which rotated around her. While she fought, the others threw steel cables around her legs, attempting to capture her. Amelia jumped, avoiding the cables.
This went on for several rounds. The jet-black opponents became impatient, irrational. Their intricate formation collapsed. It transformed into an all-out brawl. Hit and dodge, avoid and capture.
Simon watched it all from afar, silently calculating their offensive. He saw the cables wrap around her legs, tripping her.
“Amelia, the—”
Static.
He threw the panel down. It splintered into pieces on impact with the scorched earth. Simon realized his mistake, and lay on the grass, patiently analyzing the battle.
With any luck, Amelia would come back alive.
And then they would both go home, together.
Her left arm collapsed first. The limb hung stiff by her side, the ligaments stretching to a point of no return. Another blow, and it suffered catastrophic failure, tearing away from the torso. Vein-like cords tore apart, crushed from injuries. The arm landed with an ear-piercing screech.
She kneeled, reaching for her arm. Simon thought he could hear her screaming in pain, even without the panel. No shock absorbers, or pain dampeners. His design was….
This gave her assailants the perfect opportunity. The cables were tied around the mech in moments.
No…
Crackling of static. Fires leaping towards the stars. A pitch-black sky. He watched as one of the shadows stepped forward, rifle in hand. It aimed the massive weapon, lining up its sight at the cockpit.
A deafening shot. An eruption. The anguished cries of despair.
They dragged her into the shadows without a sound.
Chapter XIII
Chione
The bus rode over an icy patch, jostling her awake. She groaned and batted an invisible insect away. Another bump. This time she nearly smashed her head on the window, jumping back when her cheeks felt the chilly surface of the glass. In fact, the entire vehicle was cold; she could make out tiny, frozen dust particles floating in the aisle.
She sighed and looked outside, noticing that her own reflection was too pale, too sick. Out on the road, it was a “winter wonderland” as the locals called it—flurries of snow fluttered down from years of overcast—an eternal blizzard. A gleaming white surrounded this alien world. It blinded her with its reflection.
The transport skidded on a large patch of ice, wheels whining from the uneven surface. Cynthia held onto a nearby handhold while the driver returned them to the snowy ground. Back on the drifts, she caught a glimpse of her new home, a massive complex of interconnected buildings. It seemed more like a scientific installation than a military base.
She smiled and leaned back in her seat, drifting off once more.
Exiting the bus was rather easy. Entering the base, on the other hand, was….
“Why, exactly, can’t I come in?” Cynthia complained to the guard. She dug around in her knapsack, pulling out some papers and waving them around. “I’ve even got my papers!” She handed them to him. “See?” She pointed out the insignia. The man eyed her carefully, walking back to his post and talking quietly into a comm. After a few minutes, he came back out, saying, “Wait here,” and he walked back again.
Cynthia groaned. Was it really that hard to enter a place like this? Now that she had a closer look at the base, it was on its last legs. Peeling paint, air conditioning on the fritz, and they were even having her stand out in the cold! Her attention turned to the east, where the brownish sun was just above the horizon, dousing the planet in its dim glow. How long was she just going to stand here anyway? It wasn’t as if she had nothing to do.
“Miss…Wood?” A child’s voice.
Cynthia turned.
“Yes…?” she replied, her attention on the newcomer. Two layers of coats, gloves, and a knit cap on his head. What was this kid doing out here? She squatted down to his height, but the child just waved her along, saying, “You can come in now. Follow me.” She nodded, standing and walking along the fresh snow.
A blast of stale air blew out when they entered the facility. It wasn’t as ancient as she had previously thought, her guide told her as they walked. “It’s really not that bad once you get used to it,” he explained.
Once you get used to it?
She swerved, walking backwards, taking in all the sights. Casually, she asked, “When can I see Raylei—I mean the Commander?” The boy halted, and she bumped into him, muttering an apology and sidestepping out of his way. “Is something wrong?” she asked. He pointed, and she followed his finger. A steel door imprinted with a name: A. Wood. “That’s your room. Call me if you need me, okay?” He walked away, leaving her alone.
She watched as the boy left. This was nice, but…. Cynthia stared at the door, inspecting it. He didn’t even leave me a key! How am I supposed to get inside now? She kicked the door. It resounded with a slight noise, and left her foot aching with pain. She winced and rubbed her hand along the door. It opened with the slightest touch.
Well, that’s anticlimactic, albeit a bit convenient. It’s already unlocked. She stepped inside.
The door closed behind her, shrouding her in pitch black. A second later, the lights turned on, blinding her. She held up her hand to block the stark light of the room.
When the spots cleared, Cynthia brightened. Her own room. A single bed, gray in color. A bathroom to her right, about quarter of the size of the room she found herself in. One chair, side table, and desk were hidden away in the corner. Even her luggage was neatly stored in a built-in compartment next to the bed.
She ran to the bed, plopping onto it, and the lights dimmed when she fell asleep.
“Meow.” Something licked her face, pawed at it. “Meow. Meow!” Cynthia awoke to a nightmare: a cat. Bluish-violet eyes, glossy black fur. It continued scratching her face. Annoyed, she plucked the feline up and carelessly set it down on the floor. It grunted in protest.
More meowing. Finally, she swung her legs off the bed, and stood, swaying on her feet. In the half-light, the cat was walking out of the door, motioning for her to follow it.
Well, what’s the worst that can… happen…? She yawned and followed, but the cat was nearly down the hall. Huh? Her pace quickened. “Wait for me!” she called out, but got only a distant meow! in response.
Soon, she was lost in the maze.
Only the strip lights near the floor provided anything to see by. She could only see the next few doors ahead. In the gloom, she jumped at shadows. Distantly, she still heard the cat’s meows. How long had she been in this state? It seemed like ages.
A speck of light. She stared at it, perplexed. Then, she noticed an open door. She ran toward the light.
What she didn’t expect to find was the hangar. It too was lit by unknown sources.
The light was dim like the sunlight outsid
e. Rangers lined the walls on either side. The mechs themselves stood erect, held in place by metal bars. Evenly spaced in the middle of the hangar were most likely circular workstations.
Cynthia walked toward the nearest machine, inspecting and critiquing it. She wasn’t a mechanic or engineer by any means, but from what Simon had told her….
She laughed. This design didn’t fit at all! She walked from robot to robot until she found the one that fit her checklist. It was halfway between the second and third stations, quietly stowed away from prying eyes. It was strangely familiar to her. Where had she seen it before?
She reached out to touch the mech.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
Her hand jerked back.
“Why not?” Cynthia asked a man just a short distance away. Brown hair, neon-green eyes… mechanic’s uniform.
He put his hands on his hips, pointing to the mech. “You don’t know? Everyone says this thing is cursed! You must be new not to know that.”
She fumed. Who did this guy think he was? She stepped forward and was about to speak when he interrupted, saying, “You’re not in uniform.”
Uniform? Did this guy think that she was a mechanic?
“I won’t tell anyone, you know.” He smirked. Cynthia stared at him. All she had done was run after that cat.
She spun around; where was it?
And now… this.
“You coming?” He was already climbing into a lift near the machine, his arms full of tools.
“Yeah….” She trotted after him.
“So, what’s your deal?” Cynthia asked once they’d arrived at the head. He’d climbed out of the lift, his body clipped to a cable.
“My deal?” He pulled out a cloth and began wiping away at the rim of the visor.
“Yeah. Your name.” She watched him from the lift.
Silence. He continued to wipe.
“So…?”
The mechanic stopped and looked up.
“Alto. Daniel Alto. You?”
“Alex Wood.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” Cynthia looked up.
Daniel climbed down toward the legs.
Hope in Paradise Page 11
