Nothing happened.
Then the cockpit started rising, but still no alarm. Then the mechanics started running toward her. More orders from the faceless officer, and the pilots ran to their mechs.
No more time, the cockpit was nearly out of reach at the base of the torso. She grimaced and jumped. Her fingers caught the edge, her body swinging along with it. She scrambled up the side and slid into the interior, the opening sealing seamlessly behind her.
Once inside, she went through the usual movements. Controls, sensors, start up. What she did not expect was the crackle of static, as well as the alarms. “Warning, Systemwide Failure. Warning—”
Amid the Warnings came another sound.
“Alex, what are you—” She turned off the comm. There was nothing to be done now. Swiftly, she voiced commands to the AI embedded in the system. Even though the startup was complete, she couldn’t fly, not yet. Not like the others.
“Can you override them?” she asked, surveying the area around the launch pad. There were about five mechanics near the pulley, one of them with a tablet, typing faster than she could believe. Did they see her as a threat? No matter. I can just—
A chime. “Override Complete.” The alarms ceased. A second crackling of static. They were almost finished.
“Great,” Cynthia said. She gripped the steering tighter, preparing for takeoff. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” The thrusters powered up, the white-hot flame turning blue. “Launch!”
At first, the mech hovered just off the ground. Then it gained speed, rising faster and faster. Soon it was clear of the trees, soaring towards the sky. A third crackle of static. It grew louder and louder.
Finally, a raspy, electronic voice. “Desist. I repeat, desist and return to base. I repeat—”
The thrusters backfired, sending her tumbling through the midnight sky. She held on as she was thrown about, her seat barely keeping her steady as the world spun.
She could see faint specks hurtling toward her in the distance. She fought the controls to bring the machine back in check, but the attempt was futile. The specks got closer and closer. The thrusters wouldn’t restart.
Come on… A pitiful whirl from the engines. Start! Another, and another. She was nearly there now, spiraling downwards, just above the trees.
The engines erupted great streams of sparks, and they ignited, torching the flora with blue flames, leaving only a charred patch. The mech stopped and hovered for some moments. To the east, there was a battle emanating in the valley below. Distant flames rose high into the sky. A flamethrower?
The monitors displayed scans of the surrounding areas, and confirmed her sightings. Genesis rotated eastward and raced toward the battle.
The mech was just a blob in the speckled sky, a dot in a sea of dots. With this kind of camouflage, they would never see her coming.
Probably.
She sped by the lip of an immense valley. The walls were streaks and patches of intermixed green and coal black. Scorch marks, the monitor had said. How had they been so high up—
Flames erupted from below, nearly melting the left arm right off of its frame. Cynthia cried out in pain as the computer analyzed the damage and gave a descent course. Soon, she landed on the valley floor. It marked several bogies in the vicinity, just above her location. She could see their visors shining in the moonlight as well.
Hmm. I might have known that it would come to this.
“Might as well,” she said, veering right as a hail of bullets came streaming past. “Let them come.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. They were coming up fast, registering on the screens.
Three, two, one—
Something caught up to her on the right. She reflexively grabbed it, and thrust her weapon into the head of the mech. An explosion radiated outward and the other mechs slowed to avoid it.
Cynthia stood, slightly dazed. She glanced down at the object in her hand—a spear. Pale silver in the light, it glowed and crackled blue at its tip, a spearhead outlined in teal. A line of flexible cable was wrapped around the bottom, apparently attached to the shattered machine she had just destroyed. For a moment, the enemies were shell-shocked. But when she tugged at the spear, finally snapping the cord, they fired on her.
Genesis vanished.
She finished them off in the sky. The mech hopped from one place to the next, playing a kind of cat and mouse as the assailants fired at random, sometimes nicking her. Overall it was useless as a tactic; she was just a blur, a shadow in the half-light of the fire.
Her machine lay still next to the charred remains. Where were her friends, allies? It was too quiet now. Earlier she had seen flames rising up from the valley floor, but here, nothing. She scanned the immediate area.
There wasn’t anything.
She sat there, eyes welling with tears. Was she too late? She tried to wipe at her tears but found herself unable to detach from the steering. Typical. Always so typical. Why couldn’t he had fixed this instead? Why—
“…Alex?” Scratchy static came through the comm. “Hello? Can you… hear me?”
Cynthia sat up, her voice strained. “I’m here!” She started shaking, more tears falling down her cheeks. Yes, someone was still alive.
A ping popped onto the screen, indicating the transmission’s origin point. Just beyond the rise, someone was there.
She started to walk along the edge of the valley when—
It hit. A shot from above. She didn’t have time to evade a flurry of fire from overhead. Cynthia crouched and rolled to the side, she caught a glimpse of the camouflaged attacker: a triangular shape in the sky. She raised her spear hand, but her movement was blocked by sheer pain. Her right arm was gone; fluid poured from the wound. It felt like someone had sawed it off at the shoulder. The spear was embedded in the soil.
She reached over with her left arm, just grasping the tip when another bolt whizzed by; a white-hot laser. It hit her hand, ripping it off the frame, ending any chance of bringing the enemy down.
With each blast, the cockpit’s lights flickered. The pupils of Cynthia’s eyes melted into black pools, and she began laughing hysterically, even as everything in the tiny compartment went dark. The emergency lights blinked on and dyed it in a wave of crimson light. It was like she was drowning in a sea of blood.
Then she blacked out.
She was dimly aware of a chill in the air. A dark entity lurking in the shadows. An overwhelming sensation consuming her, closing in on her heart.
What was this feeling? Sadness, anger?
It was… empty. Everything was devoid of emotion. Was this really how she felt, deep inside? Or was it all just an illusion?
It kept coming, a coldness that solidified her body and shattered it into smithereens. She heard a distant scream, but she couldn’t respond as the crushing sensation she was feeling had trapped her. Was it her own feeling?
She was too weary now, too worn to accomplish anything. All she wanted was to sleep. A deep, peaceful sleep. But even that wouldn’t come. Instead there was a constant, insistent whisper. An urgent plea in her ear, though she couldn’t make out the words.
“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there?” An echo, but no answer. “Hello?” she repeated, more desperately this time. “Hello? Hello!”
“Hello?” A child’s reply. Mocking. Cynthia grinned, running toward the sound. It was as though she ran in a loop. Even though she ran, her feet moved nowhere. She was stuck, trapped in a world where she didn’t belong.
She heard the whisper again, this time much louder. “Huh? What’s that?” She listened, pressing her ear against something akin to tar.
R-U-N.
The floor dropped away, and she tumbled down into the abyss.
She awoke to the sound of bells. She heard them clearly, but when she groggily opened her eyes, there was only darkness. She was groping around for some sort of switch when the center console blinked once, then again, and again. It gained speed, its rhythm growing faster, and fast
er still.
It stopped abruptly, and when she tapped the forward monitor, it sprang to life, albeit the image was grainy at best. She peered closer, but she had to stop. A headache was blossoming, possibly from her injuries.
Cynthia tapped the monitor a second time: unresponsive. She touched her hand to her forehead and looked at her fingers: crimson.
She grimaced and tried the monitor a third time: nothing. She tried to speak, but it came out barely a whisper. It was hoarse, and she tasted metal. Blood?
She grimaced again as another, fainter, sound reverberated around the capsule. She closed her eyes and listened.
Warning, Impact Imminent. Warning, Warning—
The sound cut out. What had it said? Impact? Cynthia tried to bring up the records. A flicker of hope warmed her when the magenta returned. Then she realized something. She’d been released—but why?
She turned to the console again. Magenta flared, and the image returned. Triangles in the sky. Their underbellies opened, and a slight shadow caught her eye. She zoomed in on the object, and quickly brought up the comms.
No…
Cynthia trembled, smashing the console with her fists when her attempts at communication failed.
No!
She screamed, trying to warn them, anyone that—
The bombs were away.
Chapter XVI
Blood
“What’s… happening?” The valley was aflame, a fireball in the night. The full moon above illuminated the eery scene. Distinct spears of light arced across the valley for a second time, dropping more of their payload. He stared at them for a moment, and his eyes widened in fear. Simon couldn’t help himself. He had to ask.
What was going on?
“They’ve fallen for it, wouldn’t you say?” A voice spoke in his ear. Simon jumped and spun around. There was a shadow standing with him. Her hair shone, glinting under the pale light. Arrow.
“What do you mean?” Simon asked cautiously.
She looked away from the fire to regard him. Her eyes were like glass. “The trap, of course. Hadn’t you heard?” She began laughing. A trickster’s snicker. Had she always been this crazy? Or was this just the first time he’d noticed?
He turned back to the bombardment. Explosions burst high into the air after the silvery glints vanished from sight. He relaxed, if only for a moment. Then it hit him:
Was Cynthia there?
A simple enough question, but he already knew the answer, no matter how hard it was to comprehend: of course she was. After all, she was one of the best pilots he had ever seen, even if that wasn’t saying much. If she was there, then….
Instinctively, he began walking towards the valley. A hand reached out and caught him.
“Worried?” he heard Arrow say, sounding somewhat concerned. A dangerous tone. Simon looked back at her, her right hand was inching towards her weapon. No runaways, I take it? Simon thought, and waved the “concern” away.
“Why would I be?” he replied, walking back up the hill, reluctantly turning away from the valley.
Please be safe, Cynthia.
Back at the camp, there would usually be a whirlwind of activity waiting for him. Vehicles to be repaired, machines long overdue for diagnostics workups, lists and lists of odd jobs required of him. But for now, it didn’t matter; there was a celebration to hold.
Dozens of people were chatting amongst themselves and laughing. Some sat near a bonfire, sharing stories of their victories. But to Simon, it didn’t mean much. How were they celebrating at a time like this? How…?
“Come on.” A sudden shove towards the party. He nearly tripped on the soft ground. By the time he turned around, she was already off towards the biggest crowd.
It was hopeless. Even if he wanted to move, his legs wouldn’t allow it. So, he just stood there. It was getting harder, being in a place like this. Why did he join again? He thought back to his initiation. How happy he’d been. But what did that gain him now?
Her ghost danced in the night sky and smiled. The heavens were speckled with countless pinpricks of light. It was almost as if you could reach up and touch one.
Near the horizon hung the lumpy mass of Hypatia, Vesta’s only natural satellite. It was gray in the darkness, like an asteroid in appearance. It looked too close for comfort, though.
He was comforted by the sky. If he could escape to the stars, then he was rid of his failures. But was that enough? Maybe when he got back to Shadow, it would be enough. A home to come back to. Hopefully.
“Hey,” came a voice from the bonfire, “you, come here already! You’ll be a statue standin’ like that!”
It was the self-proclaimed “ace” pilot of their particular group.
Thinking about it, Simon was quite sure he was the better marksman.
But even from the “ace”, it was still an offer.
“Coming.”
The seats were nearly empty by the time he arrived. The only people still there were the ace and another pilot. He’d spoken to her just once, when he was still only repairing Rangers. But she was friendly, albeit kind of shy. He waved to her and leaned against the nearest tent corner, listening. The ace was already talking, rambling on about his greatest victory.
“—and then there I was, high on the cliff, with one cartridge left. Three Alliance thugs surroundin’ me. I fired, hitting the first right in the head—he went down right there and then. The other two—hit their cockpits. I saved my own skin there, eh?”
The girl nodded.
“Wait a minute,” Simon interjected, pointing at him. “Why didn’t you just jump off the cliff? The Ranger can take it, and you wouldn’t risk taking any damage. Besides, even if you really had taken out those guys, the recoil from the reactors exploding would’ve killed you either way.”
The pilot turned, grinning at him. “Yeah, and what would you know about piloting, boy?”
Simon leaned away from the tent and glared at him. “Because I can pilot better than you ever will.”
The ace’s smile vanished. “Listen here,” he said warningly. “Don’t talk like you know what you’re doing. I bet you’ve never even—”
“Oh, but I have.” Simon was smiling now, just a little more to go. “I’ve taken down more than you—”
“Oh really? From what I’ve heard from the captain, you’re just a tiny little thing, drowned by grief—”
His plan folded on itself rather quickly. Simon lunged forward to grab him. He missed; the man dodged him easily. He felt a hard punch and found blood running from his nose. He stepped back, hand protectively shielding his nose. The ace was smiling. A crowd had gathered. Simon looked around, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Out in the forest, it was peaceful. The sounds of nature flowed into his ears. The wind, the strange chirping emanating from the trees, and himself. The blood trickling down his nose.
Had it really worked? Had it…?
Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Carefully, he opened the top, revealing something that glittered in the night.
A ring.
The jewel set in the center sparkled under the moon’s glow. A beautiful gem. It was nearly the color of the sea, a transparent blue, intertwined with silver. He held it up to the stars, inspecting it.
So, is this what you wanted to show me?
One day she had just appeared, right out of the blue. He found her on the front step, waiting for him.
“What’s happened now?” he asked, and she beamed at him. “What? What is it?” he repeated, sitting down beside her. In her hand was a small box. He could see it clearly, even though she tried to hide it. Finally, she held it out.
“What’s that?” Simon asked, pointing to it. “What’s inside?” If anything.
She held the small, intricately-carved container up to him. “Just open it already!” she pestered him.
“I can’t, I—”
“Why not?” She lowered the box down onto the step.
He turned and smiled sadly at her. “Nothing. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He ruffled her hair. Simon stooped down and picked up the box. Walking away, he said, “Thank you.” And he went back inside.
Thinking back on it, why had he been that way? Lonesome, unable to talk to her? He’d taken the box without an answer or reply. Now that he looked at it….
No.
It couldn’t be.
Byzantium?
Simon clutched the ring, grabbing at the jewel, struggling to loosen it from the setting. Finally, it gave, dropping to the grass. He picked it up, put the ring on his finger and ran.
Hold on, please. Wait just a little bit longer.
He held the jewel in his hand like his life depended on it. After all, it did. If this failed….
The nearly-transparent gem reflected the fire when he arrived at the camp. Several tent lights were lit. The fire crackled softly.
As he casually drifted ever closer to the flames, a single thought swirled:
Can I make it in time?
He stepped noiselessly over to the bonfire, glancing around the campsite. It was now or never, do or die. He looked down at the gem and saw his reflection, as clear as day.
Then Simon tossed it into the fire.
He ran before the explosion came. The fire burst up and into the air, raining flames down onto the unsuspecting camp. He heard their startled cries, and the clamor that followed. He listened to the hurried footsteps and the shouts as they found water to fight the many fires.
What he didn’t see he was her.
A shot whizzed past his ear and he tripped on a bush, snapping twigs and branches. He narrowly missed certain death. He caught a glimpse of another round hitting the tree next to him, shredding the bark and sending splinters flying.
Who was firing? More shots around him. The ground was uneven under his feet. He searched for cover, but found none. If he were to stop now….
He ran.
It didn’t take long before he found cover. A small ditch, hidden in the trees. As he jumped into it, he heard a shrill sound. An alarm. Simon rolled into a ball, hoping it would be enough.
Hope in Paradise Page 14
