[scifan] plantation 06 - plantations origins

by Stella Samiotou Fitzsimons

  Freya wrapped her fingers around his hand. “Is it happening?”

  Everything within him froze. The end was coming too soon, and he was powerless to stop it.

  “Don’t talk,” he told Freya as he laid her out on the floor. The cold inside him wormed its way into his heart. His life was lived in repeating waves of anguish. He’d been here before, too many times.

  The weight of Freya’s innocent stare tore through him. He looked away. The white light didn’t save Faith and it wouldn’t save Freya.

  Freya’s hand fell away from his, lifeless. “Stay with me,” he whispered, too quiet for even Lada to hear.

  Lada rubbed Freya’s hands to bring them warmth.

  Eric was paralyzed. He tried to isolate his soul, to move it out into the vast space outside Aspis and detach himself from all things human. He failed at that as well.

  Ghosts had always traveled with him more than what’s real. His parents, Faith and now Freya, forever haunting him. Even Nalok and Zarok had whispered in his head all these years.

  He had failed them all in the end, even the Lagerian monsters.

  Unlike him, Freya had always come through. Her last breaths were spent saving her friend, something he could never do for the ones he loved.

  She had traded a life for a life.

  He knew he was not… Wait, he thought. A life for a life.

  “That’s it,” he whispered, hope erupting on his face.

  Nalok’s words echoed in his ears. The energy is who you are. It’s woven within your cells. It’s like your blood. Don’t waste it.

  He turned back to Freya. “A life for a life,” he whispered as he glanced into Lada’s sad eyes.

  Eric regarded Freya’s face, a face he loved. He closed his eyes and breathed in the burning fumes in the air. He didn’t want to go, but he knew he would never leave the ones who loved him. He’d be there always.

  He summoned the totality of his power, more than that, the totality of who he was, and he let it stream through his veins and arteries and tendons, overtaking nerves and muscle.

  His energy spread like the wet fires of the Sun. All his bodily systems spiked beyond the possible. He became one big pulsing energy field.

  Eric did not attempt to control the flow—instead, he let it overrun him. He opened his arms wide to scream, but he could make no sound. The energy threw him to the ground, pressing his face and body hard against the surface.

  He no longer knew who or what he was. He was roaring energy.

  A protective dome formed above them. It was not his mind that was doing any of this. His fists slammed into the ground before his hands leapt to Freya’s temples and squeezed so hard her eyes opened. He was a spectator, watching it all in awe. A raging tidal wave channeled through his arms into her brain and then ignited her bloodstream.

  His life force spilled out of him and into her, racing to her very core. He sensed his energy ripping through her organs, replacing damaged cells, connecting tissue, sealing leaks.

  Freya felt a jolt stab into her heart. She screamed when she realized he was emptying his core. “Eric,” she begged of him. “You’re killing yourself.”

  Her voice came to him faintly from across a universe. He felt true joy for the first time, knowing finally that his mind had ceded control to his heart.

  The energy kept flowing, wanting only to permanently fill Freya’s core.

  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She grunted for him to stop, she cursed for him to stop, her screams echoing off the walls.

  Blinding discharges of energy escaped the sizzling circuit between the two hybrids, shooting upwards to ricochet off the ceiling and rain back down on them, enveloping them in a warm, green light.

  Then it ended.

  A sudden icy breeze blew in when the energy dome disintegrated. Freya shuddered. Eric lay curled on his side. She fell back crying, scared to touch his lifeless body, angry that she felt healthier than she had ever felt.

  Little by little, she moved across inches that separated them and reached out to touch his shoulder. She gently rolled him over.

  His eyes were shut, but his chest still rose and fell, barely.

  Freya took his face in her hands. “Talk to me, Eric.”

  She shook him, gently, frightened he was slipping away. His eyes half-opened, blank, gazing at the ceiling. A sigh of relief escaped her lungs.

  Eric turned his eyes on her, grinning through his exhaustion.

  “You fool,” she said through tears, a frail happiness emerging. Freya brushed back his hair and kissed his forehead tenderly.

  Lada reached out to touch Eric’s shoulder, a gesture of respect.

  “You survived,” Freya said, incredulous. “You must be immortal.”

  “Add that to the list of my shortcomings,” he teased. He could feel every vein and fiber in his body thirsting for depleted energy.

  “That’s a long list,” she teased him.

  “The explosives,” Eric said.

  “What should we do?” Freya said, suddenly alert.

  “Get the hell out of here,” he said.

  “How do we do that?”

  His eyes found Lada. He smiled at her friendly gaze. “Lada, you must run to the hangar and prepare a shuttle for take-off.”

  Lada tilted her head, unblinking.

  “Lada,” Freya pleaded. “This is no place for you.”

  “I thought you would not ever ask,” she said, trying to imitate a smile.

  Freya returned her smile. “You’re totally coming with us.”

  “Then I will prepare a shuttle,” Lada said, walking away. She turned back before leaving the hall. “I would have prepared the shuttle anyway, Freya. I, too, want you to survive.”

  Alone now, Eric held on to Freya, letting her warmth make him feel alive. She helped him rise and attempt his first steps. He stumbled. She put her arm around his lower back for support.

  “There is a secret passage through the air channels,” Eric said. “With a little luck, we’ll get to the hangar unnoticed.”

  ***

  Six minutes. That’s how long they had been on the Lagerian shuttle. Six minutes that felt like six lifetimes.

  Eric kept peering into the fathomless dark outside, bundled in a plush blanket, Freya’s head resting against his shoulder.

  They hadn’t exchanged a word since take-off, yet their communication had never been more complete.

  “The sky behind,” Eric said.

  Freya raised her head to find the rear monitor. The exploding Aspis lit up the distance in fading blue and white. “It’s so small,” she said.

  “It’s already so far away,” he said, inhaling the scent of her hair.

  Eric closed his eyes. The ship might have survived the blasts if it weren’t for the Ora Dak. Irony is a cold-hearted bitch.

  Life is a shooting star, burning brightest moments before it vanishes.

  Eventually, all things return to their origins.

  CHAPTER 19

  FREYA

  She opened her eyes, gradually adjusting to the exuberant voices of children playing outside. She walked to the window. The rosy colors of the early sunset pushed back the snowy clouds in the sky above Spring Town. Boys and girls with red tomato cheeks ran about kicking a soccer ball, raising havoc.

  Zoe had promised to wake her up the moment Damian and Finn returned, but she was too anxious to sleep. According to Theo, her circadian rhythms were off balance after her stay on an intergalactic spaceship.

  She opened the window and breathed in Earth’s clean oxygen. Damian, Finn and a team of Exodus fighters had been out searching for her and Eric since they disappeared. News of her return reached them when they were two districts away from Spring Town. They were expected before nightfall.

  Freya had been on Earth for twenty-four hours but had a hard time believing it was not a dream. Pip was watching Tobi to give Freya a chance to rest, but now that she was awake, she wished she had her son, who really knew how to hug with al
l his might.

  She laughed at having silly thoughts again. Eric’s recovery would be slower. They had him at the hospital. He didn’t want to be there, but Doctor Armand insisted. Although the initial tests showed no cause for immediate concern, the doctor wanted to keep him under observation.

  Everything indicated that he would recover physically, but Freya worried about his frame of mind. How would he feel if his energy core didn’t regenerate? It was a very distinct possibility—not that anyone in Spring Town had any idea how his mutation worked exactly.

  Would he enjoy life as a mere mortal for the rest of his days? Of course, he would still be their leader, and he had stated a profound hatred for his powers for much of his life. Maybe he’d be better off without them.

  Someone banged on the door and called Freya’s name three times.

  It was Zoe. Freya’s heart pounded as she rushed to the door to greet her loving friend with a hug. She vowed never to take anyone for granted again.

  “They’re here,” Zoe said, clapping her hands excitedly. “The guards just sent word that the convoy entered the south gate.”

  Freya ran outside to meet them, overcome with anticipation. She felt as weightless as a leaf riding the breeze and as pure as a baby’s smile.

  Damian jumped off the transfer vehicle in full stride. He picked her up in one scoop. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

  “Baby, you are hurt,” he said, surveying her face.

  “Just kitty scratches,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  Then she remembered and pushed him away.

  “What?” Damian said, furrowing his brow.

  He was adorable when he was confused. She hugged him tight again, putting her ear against his chest to listen to his strong heartbeat.

  Then she pulled back again and smacked his cheek.

  “Ouch,” he protested. “What the hell was that?”

  “That was for lying,” she said. She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss him. “And that’s for spending every day looking for me.”

  “Ahem, you two should probably get a room,” Finn teased as he got off the second transfer vehicle.

  Freya yelped to see her best friend. She threw her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Finn, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said.

  “I know my eyes are sore looking at him all these days,” Damian said.

  “Come on, Damian” Freya said to him. “Let’s be sincere just this once.”

  “I hear you took a ride on the wild side, little Tick,” Finn said, wiping away a tear falling down her face. “I never doubted you’d find your way back.”

  “Finn,” Zoe called out.

  Finn released Freya to take Zoe in his arms. They kissed.

  Freya’s heart warmed to see her friends so happy together. All things were shining once again in Spring Town, the chosen home of the self-named mutants of the woods, the once fugitive pack of rebels known as the Saviors.

  Damian wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What exactly did I do again? Was it bad?”

  “So bad,” she said, “but I’m giving you a break this time.”

  He kissed her behind the ear, but then stopped. Freya followed his gaze to where Lada was standing. The Lagerian stared unblinkingly at them.

  “Who’s this?” Damian said, taken aback by the sight of the alien female.

  “Long story,” Freya said. “She’s a friend. Give me a minute.”

  Freya walked to Lada. “Is everything okay?”

  Lada shook her head. “Forgive me,” she said in a hushed tone, “does the hybrid know you love another?”

  “You mean Eric? Of course, he knows. I have a long history with Damian.”

  Lada nodded, clearly not convinced. “And is this how you treat your men on Earth? You hit them, then kiss him, then do it all again?”

  Freya chuckled. “That’s not typically how it’s done, no. We’re kind of complicated and you can’t really hurt that guy, but yeah, we’re a weird couple, now that you mention it,” she concluded.

  “Ah, so it is weird,” Lada said. “My eyes tell me correctly.”

  Freya gave Lada a quick hug. Then she took Damian by the hand to get him alone so she could tell him everything.

  ***

  “To Freya and Eric, who rid us of some very nasty alien fiends,” Nya said, raising her glass of white wine.

  “Good riddance,” Theo said, raising his own glass.

  “We’ll drink to that,” Finn said.

  Zoe raised her glass next to Finn and everyone around the table followed suit, clinking their glasses to toast the destruction of Aspis.

  Freya wanted to join in her friends’ merriment, but the memories were still very painful. How could she celebrate what Eric had endured, and Lada, and even the simple Lagerian crew members who lost their lives?

  Every time she closed her eyes, she went back to the moments when she felt her life escaping only to be reborn while Eric died away next to her. The joy of survival and the shock of survival had now become the guilt of survival.

  She had plenty of reasons to be grateful here on Earth. The Saviors were having dinner together for the first time in a long time. Tobi sat in her lap under the watchful, affectionate eye of Damian. She was right where she belonged with her people—the best people, really, that anyone could ever hope to have in their life.

  Yet, a part of her was missing. She felt the absence like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. Like a musical instrument that had its strings cut off.

  “You’re not eating, Freya,” Biscuit observed. “I had the pot roast braised just the way you like it, with extra crispy potatoes on the side.”

  In a different life it had been her favorite meal, but now it would forever be a reminder of the synthetic meal she ate as a prisoner on Aspis.

  “Biscuit,” Tilly scolded him. “That was not very polite.”

  Biscuit shrugged. “And I suppose wasted food is polite?”

  “I’ll gladly have it,” Rabbit said, going for Freya’s plate.

  Scout slapped his hand, glaring at him.

  “Knock yourself out, Rabbit,” Freya said, offering the plate. “You’re still a growing boy.”

  Biscuit fell back on his chair, doing his best to bite his tongue.

  Pip hugged her sister. “Smart,” she said. “Leaving room for dessert.”

  That comment managed to cheer up Biscuit.

  Tobi was asleep in Freya’s arms. She handed him to Damian. “I’ll go see how Eric is doing,” she told him. “I hate that he’s alone in a hospital room while we’re all here.”

  Damian arched a brow. “You’re the boss,” he said. “Remember, we need you, too.”

  She kissed him and slipped away from the dining hall and out into the starry night. The urge to be with Eric was too strong to ignore. She assumed that sharing a near death experience with someone does that to you.

  Eric’s room at the hospital was dark. She waited until her eyes adjusted to walk closer to his bed. He slept peacefully, breathing in steady intervals that warmed Freya’s heart.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, taking great care not to wake him. She laced her fingers together, struggling to figure out why she felt so nervous.

  There would be a time when she would have to examine the shift in dynamics she had underwent with Eric. She found their relationship less easy to define. Friendship sounded too small for those who’ve shared life forces.

  She took her shoes off and climbed into the bed to lie on top of the covers next to him. He was so warm and she was ice-cold. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, pressing her battered face to his chest.

  His heartbeat calmed her soul. Would that sense of oneness she now felt with Eric ever go away? His energy was her energy now and would be for all time. She could sync herself to his every heartbeat, his every muscle twitch, his every sustaining breath.

  Finn once told her that when saving someo
ne, you become responsible for their life. Freya liked to think she and Eric had saved each other, that all friends do, really, in ways both big and small.

  Or perhaps generosity is just how love comes to life.

  CHAPTER 20

  KROLL

  Things at Longhorn had not gone as planned. Kroll spat on the dirt, disgusted. The renegade Sliman liked nothing better than to drown themselves at the bottom of an ale mug. Filth and grime piled on everywhere, construction projects were left unfinished, streets and paths turned into mudfests.

  One of the Sliman had stolen a horse from Cold Creek and the blasted beast had gone wild with fear, knocking over fire logs, trash buckets and beer barrels the night before.

  Sliman lay half-dressed on the dirt streets, some in their own vomit, hammered as hell. Kroll kicked the first butt he could reach, putting enough punch to the kick to get the drunk Sliman to curse and try to stand up. He stumbled a couple of times, finally managing to stand on two wobbly feet and face call.

  “The fire is out,” he said, saluting Kroll with a loud burp.

  Kroll grabbed him by the hair. “You mean the fire you started?”

  “I didn’t act alone, your lordship,” the Sliman squawked, revealing a set of rotting teeth.

  Kroll knocked him back to the ground.

  Lordship? Had their minds turned to mush? He kicked over a stinky bucket filled with potato peels and wilted lettuce leaves. The whole damned town of Longhorn was a steaming pile of trash.

  It would be easier to teach discipline to a bunch of monkeys than those rotten rascals. Freedom had gnawed away their minds. There was no fixing them save blasting fist-sized holes through their skulls.

  He carried a bucket of ale over to the fresh patch of tobacco plants where he dumped the contents. Next, he grabbed a basket to load with fresh berries.

  Kroll was no goddamn farmer. That place was his living hell. He’d be on his way if not for fear the voices would return. So far, he had them controlled.

  He stiffened when he heard an approaching engine. Nobody had ever visited Longhorn in the month he had spent living among the loathsome scourges to the Sliman race. Who would knowingly visit? No sane creature walks directly into a flaming pile of horse shit.