Chapter XII

Sometimes it simply becomes harder to write this down than others. Not that my memory fails me at any rate about the whole matter… heaven forbid it happens any more than it already does, but I just constantly feel like I am not capable of bringing up words worthy of this tale at times. Here I sit, my concentrated frustration fueling my words, and the stars and the deep black of the universe keeping me company outside.

I puffed lightly on my smoke. “Jeez,” I said or at least I believed I did until I realized that no sound had abandoned my body; my throat, dry as the sharpest gust in a desert, could hold no longer a voice. There were times when my throat had been this dry before, either out of anxiety, pressure or even fear. This reminds me of something that took place back on Earth when… back on Earth… Forget it, I’ll tell you another time. Right then, I was thirsty, oh so thirsty. My throat ached badly; it felt cracked like the walls of an ancient city that withstood a long and arduous raid. Seeing that my body was aching for a rest, it was increasingly necessary that I accommodated her for a bit somewhere before I, too, could lean and breathe. I walked forward and decided to place her beside a wall. No, no environment or surroundings had reached me yet. My body was only responding to the prime instinct of following a point-to-point trail, much like when survival instincts kick in a person. The mind is disconnected from all ethic and personal opinion by degrees until the purpose is achieved. All I could see then, or feel - the lack of - was water. I puffed it again, searching for a temporary refuge in the dense chemicals that invaded my chest: they certainly helped. Or perhaps… not really. I guess not, no. Ah… I have no idea; it would ultimately depend on the feelings that mix up when I remember it all. Firm and rhythmic steps approached leaving behind a sense of authority. I raised my eyes and looked up as the shape approached.

“Water,” I called in a forced hush, in a simple plea, suddenly too tired to simply give a damn. I honestly believe that when a man, any man or woman, is burdened beyond their own ability to overcome a difficulty, morality will always end up going straight down to hell. A small dripping noise called my attention and, as I lowered my gaze to focus on the droplets of sweat that were leaving little eyes over the floor, I loosened my jacket and I allowed my body to slide down the windshield beside me – ooooh, had that always been there? – and finally thumped down on the floor and right by Lexa’s back. That one word came back to me, though. It did, yeah. I guess, somewhere deep inside, we all make sadists of ourselves when faced with frustration. ‘Test.’ I had failed the first one. I was the deadweight; I was the diseased sheep of the herd. The valley, yeah. Don’t you remember it? Back then… yeah, hold on. Let me puff… there, there. Back in Middle School, on a sunny day, how I just accepted the burning heat… hot and dry like this… Had it been that long since then? I gradually became aware of a burning feeling on my palm and then of a shadow before me. I lifted my eyes once again. Was this…

And I drank it all down. Down to the very last drop, that glass… bottle… thing was now empty. As if it had never had anything to begin with. The liquid vanished so fast as if that container had been initially created for the whole purpose of being empty to begin with and for a single, fleeting instant it had violated its true nature. I had no idea what I had just gulped so vehemently, but I simply was not able to take it in at that very moment and I simply dismissed it. ‘Pointless,’ I presumed. I took notice that there was a tile of a laminated blue hue that adorned the floor wonderfully, allowing a half-glass, half-rubbery wall to rise from the corners, shaping an entrance corridor that finished on its other end in a wall, not too far away from me. All in all, the corridor was not all that unpleasant, just hot. It was actually very hot. The machines moved about nevertheless and the voices, joyful and busy, carried over naturally all around the enormous dock.

I blinked.

I looked up and - finally - I saw a woman.

I blinked again and appealed by offering my hand. She offered hers in return and, before I started to shake hers, she pulled mine. As she understood the gesture, surprised, she quit attempting to help me up and shook her hand accordingly to greet me instead, somewhat surprised.

“Thanks,” I managed. “It is… really hot in here.” I sighed and looked down at my hand. My fingers were flexed, holding nothing in between them. The cigarette was gone, no trace. I blinked again and finally shook my head. “Thank you very much,” I finally got it with some certainty, “I appreciate the kindness.” She extended her hand again and I happily took it, not leaning entirely for her to pull. As I stood up, I recognized from her countenance that she was an older lady: her features were defined, and yet not precisely sharp; her eyes, wise, and strong, and brave, very brave, and her hands always resting over her cane, never trembling. She smiled ever so slightly with a roguish grin and I widened my eyes. Her face was slightly concealed by a hood that casted a shadow upon her face. Ah, almost forgot again. Prisoner, right. The handcuffs were not gone, however, no way, no. I looked at her without holding back and she looked at me. There was silence. I can remember this silence vividly for I have never experienced such a silence. Silence, as a part of a conversation, conveys a message and it is at any rate valuable asset in communication. Always is. You see, most are uncomfortable, uneasy, but some others are welcoming. This one was neither; it had only space for deliberation and pondering. And well, in my book, thought has always been a key element to achieve a greater wisdom. So it was strange. Let’s leave it at that.

“Pray follow,” she said in a tone between a formal instruction and an informal request. I followed, of course, after arranging myself and retrieving my ‘comrade’ with whom I had been entrusted. I could never leave her; after all, she was my duty and she was here because of… “I said follow, that is all: do not pry a jail with thoughts when it has no doors,” she stated, after gazing over her shoulder at me. May have been my expression; I’m known for frowning a lot when I’m thoughtful. But it felt strange then, almost as if she had pried herself into my brain and scolded me for fueling a ridiculous train of thought. Can’t do anything about that, even now. I still fall prey to many of these vicious reflections and I cannot help but remember her words and chuckle to myself.

We reached the end of the corridor, where the wall was facing us split the path left and right for simply a couple of steps until it permitted entrance – and view – into a wider room. It gave the room a slight air of privacy from the outside hallway, although I had seen no one else climb this high, through that route. Probably had no reason to either, I supposed. As I came in, I saw them there: Sebastian and Ignis. And Riole. And Lualeen. And… not good with names in general. The rest of those people. I gazed lightly from face to face, noticing that most of them were all there, or at least most of the familiar faces were. There would simply not be enough space to fit all of the soldiers I had seen back… on Earth… in what space the center of the room had for them to meet, as they were. As I carefully approached, the older lady passed me and went ahead to address herself to the crew present. I looked around more closely: computers everywhere; and people all over behind them. Screens, buttons, levers, lights of different colors in the boards, blinking at different timings, keyboards; the list goes on. It was not drastically different from the control rooms I had seen in photos and movies before, except for that polish and edge that screams out ‘hey, this is the real thing.’ Light scratches of continued and extended usage showed over the rails of the smaller and bigger levers and some covered very faintly the edges of the consoles; some of the buttons appeared to be a bit lighter in their color as well, probably thanks to repeated tapping by quick hands. This place was obviously a control room of some sort and everything pointed that it had something to do with the dock downstairs.

I threw back my shoulders with a small sigh and evened my line of sight to find the soldiers again. My mouth fell open as the entire row of soldiers presented themselves with a pound on the chest and a firm stomp, standing in a perfect military fashion, to the old lady. Not exactly sure of how to act at that moment, I approached quietly to Ignis and Sebastian and stood to their right, waiting for something to happen or for them to address us accordingly. “Ladies,” the old lady started in a voice much changed from the one she had employed to address me before; “at 07078 hours we find ourselves in our way back, with the prisoners collected and our course set. However, as you are now aware, unexpected developments took place and we find ourselves with a fourth Earthling involved.” As she spoke, a team of three individuals approached me and gestured for me to lay Lexa down on the floor in front of them. They quickly surrounded her and started to check her pulse, her blood pressure and other traces that I couldn’t tell in base of the strange tools that they used. I lifted my sight again, acknowledging the importance of the words of the older lady. I hardly knew how important they might become; perhaps even to the point of them being the only thing I could hang on to during this chaotic trip. I was sincerely lost, so I made a point to listen closely. “Notwithstanding, this changes nothing from what we had initially envisioned and we shall continue precisely as planned.” She turned and inspected us, one by one, tapping and poking our sides with her cane or pressing upon the sides of our faces to inspect us closer. It might have been me but, as she gently drove my chin up with her cane, I swore I saw something on her eyes. A strange spark. “Good job,” she started as she lowered her cane once her inspection was finished, “these look healthy enough and I believe they will fit our needs perfectly. Now,” she followed, waving off a couple of officers that had been taking notes, “introductions, introductions.” She chuckled as she shook her head and walked slowly aside for the officers behind her to come into view clearly. The lady lifted her cane and pressed lightly upon the first lady’s side urging her onward. “Seri. If you will.” She nodded in response and took a deep breath.

“I am Liutenant Serina Frevolis Transeli,” she started and then frowned thoughtfully, not sure of what else to say. Her face and voice were familiar: I had heard her back when I had first woken up after collapsing in the evening, seen her get on the pickup truck and… right. She had been the one to break off the fight in the containment part of the small vessel ship. I smiled to her lightly remembering that, but she missed my gesture.

The old lady sighed and shook her head. “Is there anything else that you would care to share?” she urged her again, trying to encourage her to speak a little more. She seemed to be trying to make a point, somehow.

“I… no, Madam; I don’t think there is anything else appropriate to share at the moment,” she answered awkwardly, shifting on her place. I heard Ignis release a low giggle, to which she smiled and giggled back quietly. Well, that was a good start… I suppose. I have to admit that she had a beauty of her own like nothing I had ever seen before. The prime features that caught my attention were, first and foremost, her thick, silky and long hair: it was absolutely astonishing. It was of a rich brown like that of chocolate plus oak wood and flowed down freely over her shoulders and back, down to her lower thighs. Now, the second trait was her voice: it had a velvety and creamy undertone to it that ringed marvelously, almost as if artificial. Her skin was fair and white, her features soft and gently chiseled, with curious and righteous eyes well set in the center of her expression, balancing and improving her countenance.

“I guess that will have to do,” the old lady sighed and, placing both of her hands on her thick cane nodded forward for the next person in line to follow. Was the next person… oh no. I recognized that face from back in the cells.

“Ensign Soibsaa Asdurxas, Ms. Asdurxas if you will,” she said, her eyes narrow and her lips tight. I saw that coming miles away. I covered my face lightly with my palm and sighed. There was an uncomfortable silence that prolonged itself until Ignis coughed audibly. All eyes turned to him as he played oblivious. Soibsaa… I mean, Ms. Asdurxas growled low and a wrinkle formed over her nose. I returned to watch her. I mean… she was not unpleasant. All of the opposite, Ms. Asdurxas had an alien beauty, and not only because she was an alien to begin with; for some reason she seemed to resemble one of those infamous Amazonian women from all the various mythical tales: fierce and vibrant, her attitude and her appearance in general fused both aggressive and beautiful into a single entity. She wore her hair in a medium ponytail that dropped down to her upper back, her hair of an elegant bluish gray with a hint of violent purple. Her skin was burnished by a light tan that made her stand out between the fairness of skin of most of the crew and, even further, I noticed she had her skin marked by a tribal spiked tattoo, which barely emerged down to the back of her palm from the edges of the cuffs of her suit. I raised my eyebrows, thoughtful and could only guess how far the marks went up her arms. I looked around, frowning lightly. It was strange. Or at least very peculiar. Soibsaa was, much like everybody else, of a perfect and unique beauty. I held myself back for a second and I felt my breath come out short. ‘Except for…’

The old lady sighed and stared at Ms. Asdurxas. Once she realized her gaze was upon her, she grew very still and lowered her head, muttering inaudible remarks to herself. Beside her, Riole shifted for a moment and finally decided to speak up, interjecting into the uncomfortable silence. “I am Commander Riole Franzisca, Leader of the Red-Wing division.” It almost seemed as if she was just about to say something else but she stopped when met by Ms. Asdurxas eyes. Her lips tightened and her expression lost some of its gleam, embracing the unwelcoming hostility. The silence returned again. I looked at Riole, silently bidding her to stay strong and drift away from her influence, somehow. She turned her face away from both the older lady and us.

“We all seem to be in a rather socially inept mood, don’t we?” she tapped the floor impatiently and then turned around. “Gentlemen, follow me. The rest of you, go back to your posts and try to get some civility guidelines set in stone before we try this again,” she ordered in slight frustration, already pacing away. I looked up with eyes, wide, inquiring about what to do with Lexa but to my sheer horror, she was gone. I searched for her everywhere desperately before Serina approached. She stretched her hand as to pat my shoulder but paused abruptly and pulled back her hand. “Go. I will see to it she is taken care of adequately,” she said in a neutral voice. The five shapes – Sebastian, Ignis, the older lady and two soldiers – were already at the other side of the room. I had no other option. Or at least I keep repeating that to myself until today. Would have things been different to her if I had been more attentive? Or if I had gone against the instructions and insisted on seeing her? It’s not like she suffered from it in any way but… Ah well, never mind that. “Thank you,” I muttered directly gazing into her maple eyes, a million messages conveyed in two words. I felt her profound gaze burning on my back as I ran behind the shapes.