Providence Ch 10

Zamora – Hebrew; Praised

Part 10

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The purple cloud hovered above the green wreckage that had once been the Midori. The particles swayed up and down in the air, smaller parts of a larger whole, seemingly inspecting the ship, confirming its obliteration.

The dirt settled onto the ground once again, having been flung into the air from the collision of the purple weapon. All was silent at the crash site.

Seemingly, their mission was a success.

A hum was heard, and the particles of the cloud separated suddenly in all directions as each speck went to examine the wreckage. Some entered holes of metal; others surrounded the bodies of the Neroan officers confirming their status.

Their job was simple, but sensitive. They would not return to the source until their mission was successfully completed. A detailed inventory was necessary.

The once serene landscape was now a compost of debris, the dirt littered with metal and wiring and bodies … and pieces of bodies.

One plum dot hung above a lone forearm in the dirt, red blood oozing from the open wound located at the elbow. After reading the limbs condition, the small ‘soldier’ went about searching for the body the appendage had come from.

Several others purple dots entered sections of the ship, panels of metal lining the brown dirt. Wires and tubing hung from the once intact ship, and each dot read the latent, deceased status of the Midori.

The specks of cloud were disbursed until each piece of the wreckage had been covered. The remaining unneeded cloud lingered in the air, waiting for the return of their counterparts.

One speck hung above a body that was partially covered by a metal panel. He lay face down in the dirt, his legs covered by the panel.

Suddenly the man groaned in pain, his breath causing a stir of dust.

The purple dot reacted violently. An energy pulse was emitted, blue veins shooting through the small fleck of plum. The pulse shot through the Neroan guard, and soon his heartbeat ceased, the violent attack of the energy ending his life.

The purple speck read his lifeless condition, and quaintly retreated to its source.

As each lavender particle became satisfied, one by one they returned to the whole.

The purple cloud grew bigger in size and strength as the smaller pieces formed the larger weapon.

The particles grew closer together, merging and binding together for their journey across the galaxy. Soon no one particle could be seen, and the collective purple cloud shot through the sky toward the planet and master that had sent them.

Surely she would be pleased with their success.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What just happened?” Will whispered harshly, suddenly out of breath from the tumultuous ordeal.

He couldn’t have seen what his eyes were telling him he saw. He was going crazy. It was the adrenaline that had been running through his veins. It was the fact that he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Or eaten in nearly that long. It was the stress of the situation, and his eyes were playing tricks on him.

That had to be it.

He slowly loosened his death-like grip on his armrest of the co-pilot seat. His ramrod back eventually softened slightly in posture, as he slowly allowed himself to believe that they were safe. Will’s chest heaved as he took in much-needed oxygen. White streaks of stars flew past the window of the cabin as the autopilot guided the Rumigan through space on its course to Cantu.

Will turned to his left slowly, and saw Alec react much the same.

He was shaking his head in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Alec said as he licked his dry lips, and ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. “What was that?”

Their eyes met at the question, but neither had an answer.

Will brought his hands up to rub his eyes, and said, “I thought for sure we were dead.”

Alec nodded absently.

Movement from the surveillance scanner in front of them cut off their discussion. The computer gave them an up-to-date report of the ships condition.

“That can’t be right,” Will said skeptically.

Alec leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He reached for the control panel, and pushed several buttons instructing the Rumigan computer to compose a more detailed analysis of the ship.

The image of the scanner broke slightly as the new breakdown of the ship’s status was presented.

“What the hell,” Will argued. “We took a direct hit. That can’t be right.”

Alec stayed silent and shook his head in amazement.

So much of this mission had already been unbelievable and implausible.

Cyrus had attacked the sacred Festival killing the Kind and Queen. Koen and Isabel had successfully escaped his clutches. So far they had effectively eluded Cyrus, because as of that moment, the Rumigan was soaring through space toward their destination at several hundred miles an hour faster than the ship was physically capable. The Rumigan computer, stating that their ship was in perfect condition, even though he was certain they had taken a direct hit just minutes previous from the Midori, was reporting no damage. The Neroan ship had obviously been destroyed from the purple anomaly that had just passed them in space.

Alec had to shake his head to clear the confusion-induced fog. And he had thought his life as an underground protector had been mysterious…

“Apparently, our ship is at 100%.” Alec turned to look at Will, who had the same disbelieving, but nonetheless grateful, look on his face. “I guess … maybe we should take what we can get. I’m not going to argue.”

“Yeah,” Will said as he continued to stare at the hologram of the status report. Not possible, he thought silently.

It’s just not possible.

His vision began to blur from an unexpected bout of claustrophobia. He absolutely had to get away from the cabin as quickly as possible.

Will moved to unbuckle from his seat, “I’m … um, I’m going to go check on the … on them. So … yeah.” He managed to get out his destination despite nervously stumbling over his words. He motioned with his hand towards the rear of the ship, and then departed the cabin.

His heart was still racing, and he attempted rather unsuccessfully to quiet it. His shoulders were still stiff with emotion and confusion and a lingering state of anticipation. It was as if his mind just couldn’t accept the fact that they had gotten away that easily.

Not easily,

he thought.

That successfully.

The Midori had been destroyed.

By a purple cloud.

Not possible.

The disbelieving thoughts echoed like a mantra in his clouded mind.

He waited for his vision to clear, his thoughts to slow, his disbelief to taper. He bent at the waist, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths.

It didn’t help much.

He straightened, and reached up with his left hand to scratch the back of his head, a nervous habit since his childhood. His hazel eyes were downcast, staring blindly at his feet as he took one step after another.

Will silently traveled down the corridor leading to the cargo bay where he expected to find Koen and Nic, and the rest of the survivors. The corridor was dim where he walked. The lights were still on ahead of him, but he couldn’t see anybody.

He briefly wondered if anyone had been hurt from the impact of movement of the ship. Alec’s driving, while incredibly useful, had been somewhat nauseating. It was quite possible that someone may have been hurt in their escape.

He entered the cargo bay slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright lights above him. He ducked his head at the entrance, stepping through the door-less entry.

He let his eyes scan the room, and gratefully took in the health of everyone inside.

It seemed as though everyone was uninjured. Rylie was dispersing water to the occupants. Devlin, Bo, and Nic were talking candidly about their escape, Nic animatedly describing what he had seen. Mabyn was standing next to Nic, clutching his pants tightly. Isabel stood close to her, softly stroking her hair as she drank water from the canister in her hand.

Koen. Where’s Koen?

Will thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Aevarian field that held the wreckage of the Midori was a maze of metal, wire, and bodies. The suns of the system beat down in their midday assault. Small ground animals scurried about finally emerging from their hiding places, sensing the previous commotion was over.

A green and brown lizard crawled several steps, nearing a large panel of silver-green metal. His long tongue darted out, capturing a fly from a small plant.

Suddenly the panel moved, and the lizard fearfully darted away.

A hand materialized from the shadows beneath the metal board. A forearm, an elbow, bicep, and then a shoulder.

The arm struggled to move the panel, and after several seconds it slid and a haggard, near-death face could be seen.

Lamar.

He coughed violently, and his fatigued, coarse voice called out, “Brody?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s official. I am insane.

Koen gave himself a sardonic snort, shook his head, and squeezed his arms tighter around his legs. He was huddled in the far corner of the cargo bay, secluded from the group behind several large crates. He had withdrawn shortly after Devlin had deemed it safe, after they broke Aevar’s atmosphere and set their course to Cantu.

Isabel had been quick to seek out Nic, delivering a very scared Mabyn to her hero. But at the same time, he noticed how Isabel was careful to never let the small girl out of her sight. He supposed it was more for her own piece of mind than for Mabyn’s, but the little girl did nothing to inhibit Isabel’s affection. If nothing else, she reveled in it. Both of them did.

But Koen took this in with cloudy vision, and a heavy conscience.

Those men were dead … because of him. They had been there to protect him, guard him. They had never asked for that job or position. They hadn’t masked their fear of the task either. Koen had seen the worried looks they shared with each other. His heart mirrored them. And now his heart was breaking for them.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have any more tears to shed.

He wanted to curse, but his voice was broken in his leaden chest.

He wanted to die …

He didn’t want to think about death ever again, but there it was, thrown in his face. The Festival and his parents, the men from the cave lying broken in the dirt, the blood and carnage … even the Midori. Death was everywhere. He had to forcibly remind himself that it was war. It was expected to suffer casualties in times like this.

For so long, his entire life, he had been sheltered, protected, privileged from the atrocities of life.

He wished he could go back. His chest constricted, as his arms tightened around his up-drawn legs. Everything was so wrong, so empty, so bleak.

And he had thought his life before the Festival was depressing. This was a wake-up call he wanted to give back.

He wanted to awaken from his nightmare. He wanted to open his eyes, shake the sleep from his mind, and give his mother a good morning kiss on her porcelain cheek. He wanted to find that it had all been a dream. If he could only have a second chance…

That wasn’t so much to ask for, was it? Another try at life? He would be everything he had rejected – he would be the good son and Prince and brother and friend he had never been. He wanted that good life. If he could just start over, he would prove that he was good.

No, not just good … justified, respectable, worthy.

Honorable.

He could hear Devlin, Bo, and Nic talking in hushed but energetic voices. He knew, without seeing, that Isabel was still doting over Mabyn, and Rylie was certainly taking care of anyone who needed it. So far no one had noticed his self induced absence and seclusion, and thank God for that. He couldn’t take any sociality right now. He had too many things on his mind.

Taking priority was that voice…

She wouldn’t stop talking. At first he had tried to ignore it, figuring it was just a figment of his imagination, perhaps his mother’s voice conjured up in his frayed psyche. He wanted to hear her voice again, so he did.

But it was more than that.

This voice, this … impression that he carried in his mind somehow soothed him. How or why, he didn’t know. If nothing else, he should be scared out of his mind.

Like he had said before, he was insane. Certifiable. Which wasn’t a shock considering all that he had been through, all that he had lost.

But for some reason, he had stopped pushing the voice away, and had listened.

In the cave, when he had first listened to her voice … it had disturbed him. She had spoken of his secrets that he had held tightly in his heart, locking it deep inside him. Things that he had never told anyone. Not his mother, or his father, or Isabel … not even Will. No one knew.

But she did.

He didn’t know how it was possible. And soon after, he stopped caring. The fact that someone knew him – knew his heart and still cared for him – was a miracle that he had never dared wish for. But there it was, or rather, there she was, in his mind offering solace. And after everything that had happened to him and the people he loved in the past forty-eight hours, he was helpless to reject it.

Perhaps that had been the reason he had rejected his prior life with such gusto and passion and grit. He rejected his family, his friends, his intentions, his priorities, his obligations … and for the longest time he assumed it was because he didn’t want them. But now he knew better. Now that he had lost everything, it was all so clear. What is it they say about hindsight always being 20/20?

That was him now. Everything was so clear. Painfully so.

He had had the world. He once had everything in his grasp, and like a fool he had let it slip away.

Koen thought of his mother, Deva, who had loved him despite his tendencies of stubbornness and stupidity. She had loved him wholeheartedly, and had proved it several times over. She never wavered, never delayed or hesitated. And she had asked so little of him. He was … had been … her first born. A son that she had wanted to continue the family lineage on the throne.

But it was because of her love that he had resented her. He let a broken sob escape his throat at the realization. He had hated her. But his reasoning was so pitifully inadequate and remorseful and … embarrassing.

He didn’t want her love, because he had thought he didn’t deserve it.

No, he had

known

he didn’t deserve it. He was a sorry excuse for a son or a brother or a Prince. He was never good enough. Never worthy enough. She had been too good for him, and he had thrown her unconditional love back in her face.

He had done the same with everyone in his life. Will, Isabel, his father. He had kept them all at arms length.

And where had it gotten him? Look at where he was now. His tear-filled eyes took in his surroundings: a cold, metal floor lined with years of dirt and filth. Heavy cargo crates filled with supplies that would sustain the survivors until they reached Cantu. A musty, stale smell hung in the air from months, maybe years, of the Rumigan lying dormant at the hangar. Here he was, Koen – crowned Prince of Aevar – lying in his own self-pity.

It had appeared he hadn’t changed much. He was still a sorry excuse for a man. Now that he realized what he had done, he was wallowing in his shame, unmoving.

And then he heard the voice again. It was like a calming conscience in his weary brain, soothing him. Suddenly he no longer felt his humiliation, he felt a peace … deep in his very soul. All because of this voice, that for all he knew, he had created for his own selfish benefit.

He let out a deep, somnolent sigh, willing the voice to be right; that what she said to him was really true. He wanted to believe so badly.

Koen lifted his head startled when the overhead lighting hit his eyes, as Will shifted a crate to expose Koen to the survivors.

“Jesus Koen, what the hell happened to you?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He managed to extract himself from the large metal panel. His chest heaved painfully from the impact and explosion of the Midori. He didn’t know how he had survived. He didn’t care. He had a mission, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.

“Brody?” he called out again, worried that he had lost his brother. No response came, except for the silence of the nature.

He stood unsteadily, leaning on his knees as a bout of nausea hit him. He vomited at his feet.

Lamar fell to his knees roughly. His lungs burned from the fires and smoke that billowed from parts of their ship that was scattered around him.

His skin broke out in a fatigued sweat, his skin going deathly white. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was quite near death. Close to joining his brother, he assumed.

“Brody?” His plea for his brother was louder, more acute, more desperate.

A rattle was heard to his right, and he turned as quickly as his shaky body allowed, and crawled to the source of the noise.

His pushed several cumbersome objects out of his way, slowly nearing a green door leaning slightly to the right.

A large shadow was cast underneath it, and Lamar struggled to move the door even an inch. His weakened condition didn’t grant him with any strength to speak of.

Lamar bent low, his mouth near the ground, and spoke, “Hello? Is anyone there?” He was out of breath quickly, because of the physical ordeal. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of finding another survivor. Either way his blood was boiling.

Finally, summoning his last piece of strength, the door lifted several inches from the brown dirt.

The suns’ light shown brightly in the eyes of the second survivor.

A harsh whisper was heard.

“Lamar?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Koen could feel eyes on his back. They were all watching him, curious as to why he had hidden from them in the cargo bay, and then had dismissed their alarm. The last several hours of travel had left them to idol conversation, offering plenty of time for prodding questions that Koen simply didn’t have the strength to answer.

What was he supposed to say? That he was a new man now, but at the expense of what, and whom? That he had been reliving the last twenty years of his life with new eyes, and was utterly devastated at his foolishness? That he wanted to give his life to save his mother and father, Mabyn’s parents, countless other casualties, those two men that had died for him – men whose names he hadn’t even had the nerve to learn?

That he wasn’t worthy of their loyalty, or the crown or throne … if they were ever successful in defeating Cyrus and reclaiming Aevar in the first place?

No, he would leave it alone. He would stand there in his place, waiting for Alec and Will to deem their landing on Cantu safe. He would continue in his Destiny – whatever it may be – and never question or battle his Fate. Koen would be the good man that he should have been all along, and everyone who was curiously gazing at him would soon forget and forgive his reckless and peculiar behavior.

They all felt the Rumigan roughly settle in the sand, on the dune planet of Cantu. They could hear Will’s brusque voice, and Alec’s quiet replies, as the two men made their way down the corridor to the cargo bay.

Isabel turned, keeping one worried eye on her brother, toward Will. She wanted to get out of the ship as soon as possible. She wanted to take a deep breathe of clean, fresh, desert air. The old air in the Rumigan was wreaking havoc on her resolve, and she desperately didn’t want to loose it in front of Mabyn.

“We’re here,” Will said softly. He didn’t quite meet anyone’s eye, still unsettled by the events that had led them here in the first place.

Rylie began passing out blankets, to guard everyone from the harsh suns and desert heat. None would be prepared for it, and any shield they could put up against the harsh temperatures would be a blessing.