Aetheral Space-Chapter 449:15.3: Only I

"So this is the Sed, huh?" Ruth said, looking down at the dark world.

"Home sweet home," Bruno muttered.

There wasn’t much to see, Ruth noted. With the sun down, there was no light in the complex at all, concealing nearly everything from view. With the searchlight their ship was equipped with, they could only barely make out the shapes of dilapidated block-shaped buildings, like a child had tipped their box of toys over.

"This isn’t actually the Sed," Serena cut in. "That’s further up the hill, right Bruno? This is just the city."

Overhearing their conversation, Morgan stepped up into the cockpit, peering into the monitor to look at the unexpected settlement below. "What, people used to live here?" he asked.

"It’s a training ground," Bruno said bitterly. "Or a testing ground. Like how they test bombs. Nobody lives here but mannequins."

"Well, that’s creepy."

Bruno just shot him a look and grunted.

Ruth tightened her grip on the controls as she took them forward, sweeping over the faux-city and taking them towards the Sed proper. The trip here hadn’t been the most comfortable. Morgan and the Sed’s had worked together briefly before, apparently, but the last time Ruth had properly interacted with Nacht had been back on… back on Elysian Fields. Things had gotten complicated back there, and they’d ended up fighting side-by-side, but still…

…and even then, there was their stowaway.

Ruth glanced over her shoulder, back towards the starboard section of the ship -- where Annatrice del Sed was sitting, knees to her chest as she stared off into space. Pierrot hadn’t said a word about her coming along, and yet the kid had insisted anyway. Ruth knew she could take care of herself, but still. From what she knew of the Sed, she didn’t think it would be a place Annatrice would be keen to return to.

"Watch where we’re going," Morgan muttered.

Ruth turned back to the monitors. "I am."

"You were literally looking the opposite way just now."

"I can pilot, if you want," Bruno offered.

"It’s fine," Ruth replied tersely.

She knew full well that Bruno was a better pilot than her, but he’d already been flying for hours. He deserved a rest. Besides, she was damned if she was going to give up the pilot seat because some Special Officer thought she wasn’t up to the challenge.

"I’ve got to say," Morgan said, leaning into the window. "I’m not seeing any signs of activity down here. If there were people using this place, wouldn’t they at least have some lights set up?"

"They could’ve just been passing through," Bruno said. "Or they could be hiding from sight -- there’s an underground level to the testing ground, too. Or… they could be at the Sed itself."

"That it?" Ruth asked, as they crested the hill.

From the descriptions she’d heard, there was no doubt about it. A blood-red dome, starkly contrasting the white fool’s snow all around it. The lights were off there, too, though -- and a long jagged crack had developed in the dome itself over time. Just looking at it screamed ’abandoned’.

Maybe that was the point, though?

Bruno took a deep breath. "I guess we’re not figuring anything out from up here."

"You want to go down?" Ruth asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"I don’t see we’ve got a choice," Bruno grunted. "Open the hatch -- I’ll get the bikes ready so we can move out. We sweep the facility, then get back here. I don’t want to stick around."

"You’ll hear no complaints from me," Morgan said, wrist resting against his sheathed sword. "Blaine, you stay here. We’ll need to be ready to leave in case things take a turn for the worse."

Ruth narrowed her eyes. Again, the guy was right… but did he really have to order her around like that?

"The hatch, Ruth," Bruno reminded her.

"Oh, right, right," Ruth muttered, flicking the switch to open the hatch on the ship’s underbelly -- that way, the bikes could easily drop onto the ’snow’field below.

Thunk.

The weapon twitched.

It had been sitting at the head of a table in the test-settlement, surrounded by mannequins frozen in the poses of a bustling party. The table was laid with prop food, neverliving meats and stone-cold vegetables half-spilling onto the floor from their dusty plates. The weapon might have sat there forever, indistinguishable from the mannequins.

But it had heard it.

’Thunk’.

If the mannequins had eyes, they would not have seen the weapon leave. One second, it was there -- and the next, it was gone. It left only the slightest residual blue light, washing over the mannequins’ painted faces before fading into nothing.

Ten.

Ruth Blaine took a breath.

Nine.

She blinked.

Eight.

Her fingers moved over the controls.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

The shelf holding the fold-away motorcycles began to emerge from the wall.

Four.

Bruno stepped out of its way.

Three.

The shelf stopped moving.

Two.

The motorcycles began to unfold.

One.

Morgan opened his mouth to say something…

Bang!

…but, before he could, the nightmare began.

Without warning, the ship shook like it had crashed into a mountain. The lights deactivated all at once, plunging them into absolute darkness -- save for the dim glow of the controls, which a moment later were devoured by a swarm of crackling arcs of electricity. An alarm blared -- just for a second -- before that cut off too.

Bang!

The second strike was even louder than the first, and this time it was accompanied by the creak of failing integrity. One of the cycles flew from the shelf and smashed against the wall, illuminating the room for the briefest of moments with the sparks it produced. Ruth leapt out of her seat, mind racing, still trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Each attack -- assuming this was an attack -- sent everything in the ship flying in every direction. Ruth manifested her Skeletal claws and dug them into the wall beside her, just to keep herself in place. Gritting her teeth, she looked out into the abyss before her.

It was funny.

Pretty often recently, she’d wondered what Skipper would do in her place. Too often she didn’t know the answer. He’d do better, at least, she knew that. He’d been a man who could find the ideal way out of any problem. A hero. That wasn’t something she could always match up to.

Now, though? Now she knew exactly what he’d do.

"Abandon ship!" she roared.

Red Aether coalescing at her feet, she launched herself off the wall, using an Aether ping to light up the room for a split second. One kick off a falling bike fired her towards Bruno -- grabbed -- and another kick off the floor sent her shooting towards Annatrice -- grabbed. Her wriggling cargo under her arms, she whirled around to look at Morgan.

"We need to go!" she said.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

It was a wonder they hadn’t actually crashed yet. Morgan raised his sword high, shrouded it with smoke, and unleashed a flurry of slashes at the floor below him. The blade danced purple, and a hole opened up in the floor, whistling wind and whirling snow visible through it. They didn’t waste any time, both of them leaping out into the pitch-black night.

It was a good thing, too, as they didn’t have any time to waste.

Bang!

The instant they were out of the ship, it was struck again -- and this time the blow was mighty enough to nearly tear the vessel in half. Ruth snapped her head up to look as the remains of the ship spun out of control --

Bang!

-- and this time, she was able to see what exactly was dooming it.

Lightning.

Lightning was striking the ship, again and again, each time leaving a vicious scorch-mark like a massive cigarette burn. One final bolt slammed down into the fuselage as it was exposed -- and the ship exploded into an aurora of flames and shrapnel. If not for Bruno’s forcefields and Ruth’s armour, she had no doubt they’d have been shredded by the tiny shards of metal.

Well, they had bigger concerns, anyway.

Number one was the ground.

Ruth braced for impact, concentrating nearly all her Aether into her legs, but she needn’t have bothered. Before she could hit the ground, a rope of smoke wrapped around her waist -- and Morgan Nacht pulled her and the rest of the group close. He’d created what looked like a hand glider from that strange fog -- it was haphazard and misshapen, but it served to slow down their descent enough for a safe landing.

Her feet touched down on the moss-covered roof of an old building, and she put down her passengers carefully.

"Stay alert," Morgan said seriously, sword held out in front of him, eyes flicking around for their attacker. "Whatever did this is still here."

"You don’t have to tell me twice," Bruno replied. He’d already erected a forcefield around their group, and his own eyes were angled up towards the sky -- watching for another bolt of lightning. He’d seen it, too, then.

Ruth ground her Skeletal claws together, producing a rain of bright sparks, as she stood protectively in front of Annatrice.

Let’s do this, she told herself, willing her blood to pump faster, her adrenaline to flow faster. Come on. Yeah. Let’s do this.

"You said there was an underground section?" Morgan asked, back-to-back with Bruno -- no, Serena.

"Mm-hmm," she said seriously.

"If the enemy is using lightning, we need a roof over our heads," Morgan continued. "Do you remember the way?"

Serena considered it for a second, before quickly nodding.

"Okay," Ruth breathed. "We all move at once. Go!"

Morgan took a step forward to lead them off the rooftop -- but before his foot could hit the ground, there was a flash of blue next to him. For the briefest of instants, Ruth saw a humanoid blur appear in their midst. An afterimage of an afterimage. Morgan saw it too -- and with reflex born from crisis, he swung his sword with all his strength.

It wasn’t that he missed. The sword did not hit the enemy, but it wasn’t because Morgan had missed. His sword was missing.

He looked down.

His arms were missing too.

The moment was preserved in horror and left to dry. As Morgan opened his mouth to scream, blood spraying from the torn stumps of his arms, Ruth caught sight of the enemy once again. It was standing far behind Morgan, holding his severed arms in its hands -- and as Ruth caught sight of it, it dropped the limbs onto the floor.

Then, it raised a finger and blasted a bolt of lightning right through Morgan’s heart.

His corpse crumpled to the floor, blood still gushing from its wounds. Serena’s face stretched into Bruno’s shock and agitation. As he took control of the body, he thrust his hands forward to create the strongest shield he could -- no. It was too late for that. The enemy had already moved again, and now it pressed an index finger against Bruno’s temple from the side.

It was just a spark, but it was enough.

There was a small flash of blue light, and Bruno and Serena dropped dead to the floor, some vital lodestone burnt out of their brain. Unlike Morgan, their face was not contorted in pain. They had simply been deactivated between one thought and the next.

Ruth opened her mouth as she looked down at the bodies, but all that emerged was a strange crackling groan. This couldn’t be happening. She could feel her heartbeat thumping all the way down to her fingers, but it felt like someone else’s.

Not again.

Finally, words found her.

"I’ll kill you!" she screamed, her voice reflexively infused to such a degree that blood sprayed from her throat.

The Direwolf Set wrapped itself around her, and she launched herself at the enemy with all her might, red sparks dancing around her jagged claws. The monster, for its part, just stood there -- flickering in place, blurred by absurdly fast idleness… until it didn’t. Three lightning bolts struck out, and Ruth managed to dodge them by mere inches -- but then, right before Ruth’s claws would have met flesh… the monster vanished.

Annatrice del Sed gasped.

Ruth knew what it meant before she even turned around. She’d seen it twice now, in the last few seconds. She’d seen it many times now, over the last few weeks. She’d seen it countless times now… over the course of her life.

Still, she turned around. Annatrice’s severed head rolled across the floor and stopped at her feet. Ruth met its empty eyes with empty eyes of her own.

Oh, she thought. Skipper wouldn’t have let that happen.

Ruth Blaine felt the claw of despair once more…

Bang.

…and then, she felt the bite of lightning.

Only I…

"If the enemy is using lightning, we need a roof over our heads," Morgan continued. "Do you remember the way?"

Serena considered it for a second, before quickly nodding.

"Okay," Ruth breathed. "We all move at once. Go!"

Morgan went to move -- but before he could take so much as a single step, the earth shook beneath them. Ruth swore under her breath as she steadied herself against the trembling building. First lightning, now earthquakes? What the hell was going on here?!

She only had time for that one thought -- before she could have another, her vision was overtaken by sheer white.

Winds buffeted against her body from below, nearly strong enough to send her flying. She raised her arms to shield her eyes from the sudden onslaught, and she had no doubt her allies were doing the same. The temperature dropped drastically and instantaneously, until Ruth’s teeth were chattering, her skin feeling like it was about to freeze and crumble against her flesh. Damnit, even her eyelids were freezing shut!

She could barely hear Morgan as he spoke.

"B!" he forced out. "L!"

With the flames Morgan produced, the cold abated somewhat, and Ruth was finally able to open her eyes. They and the building itself were surrounded on all sides by sheer walls of ice -- and a roof, too, encasing them entirely in a structure like a hollow iceberg. What was this? Was this an attack?

Ruth turned on the spot, claws drawn, ready for anything -- and suddenly stopped.

Someone else was here.

Crouching on the other side of the roof was a young woman with scarlet eyes and raven-black hair. A crimson cloak hung off her form, pooling on the floor like a bloodstain. The tense expression on her face made it difficult to tell if she was friend or foe -- but, as Ruth and the others watched, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a script, holding it up towards them.

A familiar voice came from the device.

"Hello, children," said the Widow. "If you want to live, I’d recommend going with young Miss Nox here. Or, in simpler terms… run."

Ruth opened her mouth to argue --

Bang!

-- but as white-hot lightning struck the ice-roof above, nearly blasting right through it in one blow, she thought better of it.

"Run!" she roared, and the others moved to follow.

The eyes of a lion watched their egress.

Blackmane purred contentedly to himself as he watched the latest subjects scurry away from the surface, led by young Alcera Nox into the underground tunnels. That was good to see. There was little point in leaving the door open for new participants in the experiment if the weapon was just going to kill them instantly. The presence of Only I had proven to be the boon he had hoped for.

Still, Blackmane had concerns.

The dark lion walked over to the front of the control room, paws thumping against the metal floor as his thin tail swished in the air behind him. The monitors in front of him displayed feeds from all across the testing ground, and the consoles before him were manned by his capable subordinates. He offered young Iozel a curt nod as he passed. The girl just shrunk away. Oh, did she dislike cats?

"Two graduates of the Sed," he purred, deep voice filling the room. "Arriving by coincidence? That’s not possible. Is this your doing, Erica?"

He turned his head to the two del Sed’s. Erica didn’t deign to speak to him directly, but Tybalt del Sed stepped forward as usual. The young man had his black hair tied back into a severe bun, and a certain cold emptiness in his green eyes. That, at least, told Blackmane who precisely he was speaking to.

Follow current novels on freewebnσvel.cѳm.

"We are not involved." Tybalt said calmly. "There would be no benefit in that for us."

As he spoke, his Id hung off his neck by its arms, taking the shadowy form of some monkey-like creature. Behind him, his Superego giggled, the pitch-black jester dancing behind the young man. Blackmane narrowed his eyes.

See No Evil.

Even with his greatest level of visual acuity, he couldn’t see any fluctuations in the Aether that would suggest his collaborators were lying to him. Was this truly a coincidence, then? No. He couldn’t believe that.

"Very well," he grunted, turning back to the monitors. "Leave us. I’ll reach out when I need you."

Erica, her arms crossed, walked calmly out of the room. Tybalt took only two steps before his Superego dove into his body -- ejecting his Ego as the silent shadow of a man in a trenchcoat and hat. His hair bun popped out into a long and loose braid, and he skipped playfully after his superior, chuckling all the while.

Back when the Sed had operated, it had hosted three branches of experimental subjects beneath its dome: Splitters, Maskers, and Controllers. It didn’t take a genius to work out which one Tybalt del Sed was.

On the monitor, the weapon waited.

It had paused in the air high above the building. It did not float -- it just stood on thin air itself, as if the electricity buzzing beneath its feet was generating a temporary surface. It’s white-and-black mask stared off into space, and its black combat suit nearly blended in with the night sky behind it. White hair billowed in the wind, the only sign of motion in that lethal existence.

Now that its targets had left the designated area, it was no longer permitted to pursue them. The weapon remained in position for a few moments more before vanishing in another shower of sparks. It was waiting for its next target to appear -- for it to hear another noise, and to begin another ten seconds. Such was its purpose.

Blackmane did pity it… but it had been the work of his predecessor. There was nothing to be done now but make use of the suffering. That was the only way anyone could accomplish anything in this excruciating world.

Still, he felt sorry for the subjects, too. Those who had haplessly arrived here and put their necks in the guillotine. But the time for such fripperies had long since passed.

Forgive me, little ones, he sighed, as he turned away from the screens and trotted off into the depths of the Thinker’s Comet. But this is all for the survival of humanity.