A/N: My chapters seem to be on the short side lately, and for that I sort of apologize. Sort of because that means you get faster updates, so no one's complaining, right?
I loved all the comments I got on the last chapter. I delight in your panic and paranoia ^^ I means I'm doing my job at least relatively well. Does that make me a horrible person? Well, I don't know the answer to that, but it certainly makes me a writer. To Maya, who left an anonymous review so I couldn't reply directly, you're adorable. Now on with the carnage!
Chapter Nine
The crackle and buzz of the comm startled England from his dozing. He rubbed the back on his neck where a crick had formed. He supposed that was what happened when one drifted off lying against someone else's upright ribcage. America still sat against the pillows, showing no signs of having closed his eyes despite the late hour.
"What in the blazes?" he said, stumbling out of bed. He grabbed his comm of his desk. "Hello?"
The comm let out a burst of static before subsiding into France's ecstatic voice.
"Ha, England," he shouted, triumphant. "I succeeded. I saved us-where the captain was too scared to move-let it be known that I saved the mission in the end!"
America shot a confused look at England who shook his head. France kept rambling on, getting progressively louder.
"Wait," England interrupted. "Slow down. What happened? What did you do?"
France laughed. "I got rid of our little problem. We're safe!"
"How?" England asked, incredulous.
"Went to the source."
"Source? What?"
"Don't be dense England. Remember our little chat earlier?"
A chill swept down England from the top of his head down to his toes. France was impulsive and scared, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't dare.
"France, what did you do to Germany?" England asked slowly.
"Airlock. Elegant, wouldn't you agree? We don't have to worry about the mess now."
Suddenly England wasn't standing anymore. His back was cold, pressed against the side of his desk, and all the air seemed to have vanished from the room.
"It wasn't hard, really," France continued. "Seems despite his plot to kill us all, he still couldn't resist the lure of an airlocks malfunction. It was easy enough to lure him in. Then just a flip of a lever, and poof, problem gone, and our lives saved."
"France," England said, his words choked and broken. "You just killed a man."
"It was no less than he deserved," France said scornfully. "His planet probably put him up to it, sabotage the mission and give them an excuse to increase their presence in the war."
The comm was jerked out of England's hand. America stood, light reflecting harshly off his glasses. "France," he said, voice colder than England had ever heard it, "just shut up. It wasn't Germany. What kind of person would make friends only to slaughter them?"
"If his planet told him to, then he would," France insisted. "He was a government official. It makes sense."
"No!" snapped America. "So say he had orders. Say his assignment was to bring us down. That wouldn't change anything. He wouldn't do it. Not to us. Certainly not to Italy."
"Are you really that naive?" France said with contempt.
"He wouldn't do it because sometimes the planet is wrong," America said, starting to pace. "Sometimes the planet is wrong, and then people recognize it. It makes you desperate, but people aren't the planet. People take action."
England had the distinct feeling that America wasn't talking about Germany anymore, but he didn't have time to dwell. Standing, he felt the tremble in his muscles dissipate and took the comm from America, who fell back onto England's bed. He turned it off and spoke, more to himself than America.
"We need to contain him somehow. If he gets it in his head that someone else is dangerous, they could go the same way. Out the airlock." He rubbed his eyes with the heal of his hands. "My God, who does that?" he asked angrily.
America didn't respond, but continued to lie boneless on England's bed, staring into space. Sensing that he wasn't going to be much help, England tried to devise a way to contain France. They still needed him to run the biodome, so they couldn't just sedate him indefinitely, as appealing as that option sounded. No, he'd probably have to be contained in the biodome somehow. Finding that way to contain him was the struggle.
"America? Do you think you and Japan could figure out a way to keep France contained in the biodome without hurting him too much?"
"Hmm? Well, probably. You know how all the doors have sensors on them that talk and stuff when they open? In theory I could override them and stop them from opening for France's biosignature."
"Good. Get to it,"
"Well, there's a bit of a problem," America added.
"Of course there is," England sighed. "What?"
"The override will be password protected. Only the security officer-that is to say, Germany-knew it."
"Can you do anything, such as, I don't know, hack in or something?"
America whistled, then nodded. "Yeah, it might take some time, but I think Japan and I could get in."
"Good, go get him."
Japan had not bothered to try to sleep that night. Though he could not contact them directly, he spent the time composing a farewell to his family. The video log glowed dimly in the room he shared with Italy, Germany, and America. It was dark and empty now. Italy was dead, Germany hadn't returned yet from something France had asked him about, and America had stayed with England.
In his heart, Japan was relieved that the room was empty. This was personal, private. Recording the message was turned out to be harder than he expected. His own voice, steady sometimes to the point of a monotone, didn't seem to be working quite correctly. It would catch in odd places, and Japan was worried that some of his emotions were flashing across his face.
"And to my eldest brother, I wish him to keep my paintings and drawings, in hope that he studies them more carefully. You've copied my style for years, Brother, and now maybe you will have some slightly less terrifying results," Japan said, a very small smile appearing on his face.
He took a deep breath before facing the camera again. "I believe that is everything except my final request. Please, keep each other safe. Know that it was for this cause that I died, so you may honor me in this way." Japan's voice caught, but he continued on. "So, then. Farewell, my family."
He clicked off the camera and set the message to send at the next possible time. The comm near the door crackled to life as Japan approached his cot.
"Japan?" America said. "We need to hack into the door security."
"Why don't you ask Germany for the password?"
The comm was silent for a moment. "He's dead." America said finally.
It didn't hurt as much as it should have, Japan noticed. Though new, the pain of the new loss felt dull, as if he had already been mourning his friend. In a sense he had—a part of Germany had died with Italy in the kitchen. Japan felt his heart fall. He clenched his fists and turned his mind back to the conversation.
"How?" he asked.
"France," America said. "France threw him out of the airlock."
"Oh. So France needs to be contained now?"
"Exactly."
"I will meet you in the control center, then."
"See you then. Thanks Japan."
As America clicked off, Japan went to his desk to gather his laptop and other equipment he might need. Computers weren't his specialty, but he was good enough with them that he and America working together should be able to crack the protection.
The red lights of night mode flickered. Japan startled, glancing around the room. He hurried to the door, the hairs starting to rise on the back of his neck. He reached out a hand to open the door. He made to turn it, but it was stuck fast. Panic raced through him like lightning, leaving his fingers tingling. He threw himself against the door. The lights shuddered. Nothing happened.
Slowly, he backed away from the door until he bumped up against a desk. Turning around, he shuffled though it, before coming across Germany's handgun. He set it on the desk then turned on the video log in front of him. The lights dimmed just as Japan set the video to send a feed all through the base.
The lights went out with a little pop. Japan waited for his vision to adjust, but everything remained black as bottom of the sea. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing and the blood rushing through his ears. He waited, pressed up against the desk with the hand gun gripped tightly in both hands.
The shadows were unlike anything he could ever recall seeing before. They seemed to move and swarm like some dark ocean. He thought he was making out shapes in them, but he couldn't tell if was actually seeing anything at all. Something cold and wet brushed against his cheek, leaving thick burning stripe across it. Crying out, Japan jumped and fired off a round. In the brief flash from the powder, he saw something tall and writhing in the middle of the room. The air changed around him, and he was splattered with whatever it was.
The mass in front of him was gone, but he felt something around his feet. He choked on a shout as thick ropes of wet, burning shadows slithered up his legs. He fired the gun again, and the shadows seemed to recoil from the spark of the powder. Japan struggled, firing at random until he heard the fatal click that meant he was out of rounds. The ropes covered him, wrapping around his hands and suddenly Japan found he didn't have a gun anymore. Or hands.
He started to scream, but was choked off when whatever it was as it dove down his throat. It was over in seconds, once it was inside him.
The video log made a small ping when the message reached its time limit, and it was sent throughout the base.
The biodome was still, the reddish light casting shadows all across the walls. The skylight was open, the black hole bearing down from above. England leaned against the wall, staring up at it as a figure approached. It cleared its throat, but England didn't seem to hear.
"You asked me to meet you here," said France.
"Yes."
France shifted from foot to foot. England seemed to be making no further elaborations. "I suppose this is about Germany?" he said.
"Yes. You murdered your own crewmate," England said, his eyes finally dropping to France's. "I have to take action."
"I would hardly call it murder, Captain," France said. England studied him. Something seemed off, the way he moved, the hysterical note in his voice. This man was mad and dangerous. "…He was going to kill us all. I was merely—"
"You threw him out of an airlock," England said, voice rising. "I think that counts as murder on any planet."
"I did what I had to!" France shouted.
"No. No! France, you acted out of panic. You had no proof. You murdered him because of a suspicion! Don't try to make it anything else!"
"What are you going to do to me then?"
"Keep you here," England said, gesturing to the biodome.
"As if you could, I can take you."
England glared and pulled out the comm from his belt.
"America?" he asked. "Have you and Japan worked something out?"
"Japan hasn't shown. I haven't gotten in yet."
"Fine, just hurry—"
Blinding white pain shot through England's head as he crumpled to the dirt-covered floor. France stood above him, fists raised. Turning, he started to leave.
England shook his head to clear his head. Still on the ground, he, lunged forward and caught France around the ankles, sending him sprawling.
"Get off of me!" France shouted, kicking at England.
England wrapped one arm around France's legs and grabbed his comm with his free hand.
"America. You need to do something. Fast."
With a grunt, France threw England off. He turned and threw himself at England. They collided, and rolled along the dirt floor, each trying to pin each other to the ground. England's comm had fallen off, and crackled on the floor a few feet away.
"Hey England, Japan just sent something to the whole ship. I think we should see it," came America's voice.
Throwing an elbow into France's stomach, England threw him off and crawled to the comm.
"And stay down, you murdering lunatic!" he shouted over his shoulder. France moaned, weakly grabbing after England's feet. One of the biodome walls began to glow.
"It should be loading," America said. "Damn it, Japan, I need some help with this. Where are you?"
The screen on the biodome console flickered to life. It was dark, but England could hear breathing. Both he and France got to their feet, fight forgotten. England tried to rub the dirt out of his eyes as he struggled to make out what was going on.
Once the shoddy footage finished, both men stood completely still. England realized that he still had one hand over in his eye. With shaking breath, he lowered it and turned to France.
France had gone whiter than England had though possible. Trembling, he sank to the ground, eyes never leaving the now blank screen.
"Did… Did I do that?" France whispered.
"No," England said firmly. "No, you didn't. You were wrong about Germany, but this isn't your fault."
America spoke over the comm. "He's right, France. You couldn't have prevented or caused this."
France shook his head, just a little. "If I hadn't…Maybe he would…What? What have I—?" he babbled. He turned to England, face drawn in pain. "I'll stay here. Quarantined."
"While that has some benefits, the whole situation has changed. We need to reevaluate—" England started.
"No," France insisted. "You both saw what happened to me. I can't… I can't trust myself. You can't trust me. So I'll stay."
"But—"
"Let him," America said over the comm. England was baffled, but the guilt in France's face and the soundness of America's voice convinced him.
"Fine," he said. "France you are restricted to the biodome for the unnecessary murder of Germany, and for the consequences of that murder which possibly lead to the death of another crewmate. Any movement outside the biodome and we reserve the right to forcefully return you within its boundaries."
"Thank you," France said, and he turned and walked away, leaving England standing by the door. The comm crackled.
"England?" it was America. "Meet me in the control dome? We need to brief Austria and Hungary."
"Fine, I'll be there in a few minutes."
A/N:
Dead: 4
Remaining Survivors: 5
Wow, almost more dead than alive.
The usual schpiel about comments. They make my life.