3. Blissfully Obscure
DAWN BROKE, cold and misty, on a downcast Sunday morning. The fog that had encircled the city for two simultaneous nights had condensed as dew, turning the wind-chime on Cale's window ledge into a spectacle of nature, encrusted with glittering, miniscule drops of water that gleamed in the obscured sun. From the window wafted, unnoticed, a fresh, natural scent - the sweet breath of a new morning - into the bedroom. It carried with it the scent of unrefined, pure water mingled with the breath of oxygen from plants and trees not far outside. It was the breath of life: clean, fresh air, purer than anything else on Earth.
It's just air, damn it!
Cale paced about in his bedroom, his mind wandering to the open, jungle green, duffel bag sprawled on his bedspread. Had he forgotten anything that he would absolutely need in his two-week exchange program in D'amara? No, then why was he worried?
He glanced in the mirror that was positioned on a wall in the adjoining bathroom. A few minutes ago, he recalled how he pilled his groggy self from bed; staring into the mirror, he saw a half-alive, muddled zombie. Now, the view had changed. Right where he was standing, stood a boy, dressed in loose cargoes and an icy blue T-shirt. Strengthened and eager, with an eyebrow stud half- glimmering above his left eye. He was Cale; yeah, that's more like it, he told himself, staring in the mirror again, the pride of the human race.
Encouraged by what he saw and the thoughts lingering in his head, he zipped shut his duffel bag and swung it upon his right shoulder. He picked up his second load - a huge, loud orange-coloured haversack; balancing its weight evenly on his shoulders, he trudged out of his room.
It was just a Sunday morning, and his adopted family scuttled around the kitchen as usual as they would on any other day. With a loud thump, he slammed his luggage onto the floor, and walked up to the table, not looking at Tek or Iji. Toast and juice, he thought, it had been the same for years. Tek was pawing around aimlessly for his mug of water; being the blind bat he was, Cale turned away from him so that he wouldn't be given another lecture about helping his elders. Iji had her ears plugged into headphones, unaware of Cale's presence. As he slowly finished his breakfast, not even the silence that had settled around the table seemed to bother him.
Tek and Iji, he had long realised, were hardly going to miss him if he was gone.
"Be seeing you all," he muttered.
No response.
Cale didn't care; he had lost whatever love or devotion he had in this bunch a long time ago. He wanted a real family, with human parents. And all he had for a family were a blind geezer and his teenage creation. His mind hurt; Cale wasn't going to think about this again, because it involved his father - and thinking about him was painful.
Once again he had settled the load of his luggage on his shoulders, ready to leave. Tek's blank eyes had turned at him, looking at his moving figure as he edged his way to the door, trying not to make any noise that would awake Tek or Iji from their ignorant stupour. His efforts were crushed when Tek's drawling voice called from across the room.
"Mind you keep out of trouble now, Cale," Tek said to him.
"Trouble?" Cale retorted in a quiet tone so that Tek wouldn't be able to hear. "Trust me, Tek, if I wanted to go looking for trouble, I would've been just the riffraff my father was."
Casting a fleeting glance to his blissfully obscure family, he set down the stairwell of his apartment block, hoping to catch the seven-thirty airport coach that stopped across the street.
After being cooped up in the apartment, the morning air felt strangely cool against his face. Its comforting breath caressed Cale's hair, blowing it gently against his sides. The street was filled with the sound of cars, rolling by, making muffled swashing noises as they splashed through the puddles on the street; a passenger bus was parked across the street, slowly filling with passengers. People walked up and down the pavement, but nobody seemed to notice him. They displayed the properties that Tek and Iji had; Happily obscure, ignorantly blank lives, thought Cale. Well, at least I'm not living one of those.
Cale boarded the coach and barely gave his neighbourhood a second look as it sped down the highway.
Despite the spread of cosmopolitan scenery unfolding outside his window, Cale seemed lost in his thoughts - about the blissfully obscure world that he lived in, his abomination of a family and inevitably, his father. The more he tried to put his father out of his life, the more it seemed to plague him, like a bad nightmare that wouldn't go away. Years after his father had left him with Tek, he had dwelled on the promise of seeing him return; he had been sustained on the sight of his remaining parent appearing on the porch of Tek's apartment. Lies, all lies.
The bus had come to an abrupt halt, and Cale looked up fast enough to notice that a passenger had boarded. Ragged clothing trailing behind him, he could hardly see that man's face beneath the scruffiness and dirt. There was a sort of hood, draped down his face to conceal it. But their eyes did meet as he brushed past him - and Cale felt the most unusual combination of thoughts go through his mind. It felt like a burning sensation, a deep unearthing of something he should've experienced: running breathless, surging through space choking for air, the comforting feel of security with talking and drinking, shouting as wind swept past his face, the thrill of flying through some uncharted sky. but most of all, a sense of deep respect. And something else too - betrayal.
Betrayal? Cale had felt it; among the strange emotions that his mind had so unexpectedly revealed, this one hit him like a bullet through the head. It came as a rude shock; waking him from whatever thoughts that had filled his mind, all to focus on that unnerving, distraught feeling. Cale sat, his mind devoid of any other thought: betrayal.
The man seemed to have felt it too, because he recoiled slightly. Cale couldn't tell if he really had experienced such a feeling, or was it the sudden lurching forward of the bus that triggered it? The man sat directly behind him, his breath escaping in irregular pants. Once in a while, he would hack violently, coughing to the ground. Sometimes, he would lean close to Cale, as if wanting to ask him something, only to retreat back into his seat.
By the time the bus had reached the end of the highway, the domineering skyscrapers of metropolitan Denver had disappeared, leaving a wide, open stretch of meadow to the left of the road. But to the right, tall smokestacks towered in the distance, spewing dense clouds of smoke. The ramshackle jumbles of oil refineries and noxious colour of chemical pools filled the landscape. It was a depressing sight; Cale wasn't spared the sight of the industrial wasteland any longer though, as the bus pulled into Denver airport right on schedule.
The man seated behind him alighted as well. Mingling with the crowd, Cale could sense him, following him at a near distance. He tried to ignore him; each time, he looked from the extreme corner of his eye, that ragged, trudging man seemed to trail into view. He tailed Cale through the airport's main doors, then past the airline counters. Cale could feel uneasiness slowly gripping him, numbing his thoughts.
Taking his mind of his pursuer, he scanned the thick, airport crowds with his eyes, searching for any sign of his friends - a sight that would certainly stifle his nervousness. Then he heard a shout; a wave of relief surged through his mind and the anxiety he once felt faded.
"Cale!"
"Cale! Over here!"
By a bench facing the counters, were the smiling, bright faces of his classmates. Andrei and Christel waved to him; Cale couldn't have felt any more relieved. All those feelings, the tense emotions that he had when he was on the bus, were vague in comparison to the mirth and delight of his friends. They were his real family.
Christel got to her feet and kissed him softly on the cheek. "What delayed you?" she demanded. "We all thought you weren't going to show up."
Cale stammered for a minute, trying to fake his reasons. "Well. I. bus broke down. The coach.you know, it broke down on the way and I had to wait for. another one." Christel seemed satisfied, and invited him to sit with the rest; he spun around momentarily - the man had vanished. All that surrounded him now were crowds of people, idly walking past without a gaze at them.
"Is everyone here yet?" he asked.
"We're waiting for the professor that's all. I've already helped you with your ticket. With luck, maybe we could be sitting together," Christel grinned coyly.
Yeah, he thought to himself, real lucky.
Andrei was now babbling on about some latest musical release. Everyone seemed to be crowding around him now, all except Cale - and Maxell. Right now Cale didn't feel like talking; he wanted his mind to be at ease. He was going on a trip with his friends, and they were going to have the time of their lives. His mind tried in vain to convince him, but all he did was watch, gazing intently at the people that swept past him. His attention focused on two figures, their faces dark and obscured, disappearing behind a corridor.
"Hang on a second there, would you?" Akima called to Ishaq. She had walked down a corridor en route to the airport's departure hall. Here, the walls weren't dirty and splattered with mud and grime like those in her neighbourhood. Instead, the wall was a spread of marble mosaic, intertwined with intricate frescoes.
1.1 "Come on," he wheedled. "How much money do you need anyway?"
"Just a few hundred dollars," she replied. "And stop whining."
Right in the far corner was an automatic teller machine; Akima knew better than to venture right into a bank where Drej Drones stood guard just behind the counters. As she approached, the machine flickered in response and its monotonous, robotic voice echoed: "Welcome to the Citizens' Bank automatic teller machine service, please state your name and account number."
She sighed. "Akima Kunimoto. Seven, nine, three, three, six, seven, four."
A keyboard opened from the machine's metal casing. "Please identify thumbprint," it requested.
Very reluctantly, she put her thumb on the scanner and the screen glowed blue. "Withdrawal or deposit?"
"Withdrawal. Nine hundred bucks."
"What's this cash for?" asked Ishaq.
"The trip, of course," she replied. "It does cost cash, you know."
Ishaq bent in closer to her ear so that only Akima could hear his whisper. "What did you bring for the trip?"
"Switchblade."
"That's all?"
"Security's going to check your luggage before you get on the ship, right?"
"Yeah, but." Ishaq stared questioningly at her, ". you're going to hold off several hundred passengers with one switchblade?"
Akima forced a laugh. "We're expecting resistance?"
"Sure to be a pack of roughnecks in every crowd."
"And what're you going to do? Gun them down?"
Ishaq kissed her hard on her cheek. "That's Rasz's plan."
"Rasz is a fool. And you know it."
"But he's a renegade, isn't he? He hates the Drej more than anyone else."
Rasz hates the Drej more than anyone else? Akima repeated those words in her mind, well, we'll see.
While the machine continued to process the information, Akima suddenly became aware of two security cameras, eyeing her every move with their mechanical eyes, listening to their conversation with their unseen bugs. They glared at her suspiciously, and she glared back. For a moment, she wondered if her image on the bank's security screens would jeopardise her mission. She had been caught on tape for those few moments; but then again, it would take time to clarify her identity with the Drej internal security system, wouldn't it?
So to them, for now, she'd be another blissfully obscure person, seen laughing with her boyfriend and living life in the same ignorant way that everyone else did.
The machine regurgitated a wad of notes into her outstretched hand.
Blissfully obscure? She thought to herself. Why how wrong they were.
As she stuffed the notes into her back pocket, a voice interrupted the classical music that had been playing soothingly over the sound system. " Will all passengers for Flight forty-one bound for D'amara please proceed to Gate seventeen. Boarding will take place shortly."
Akima turned to Ishaq. "D'amara forty-one. That's us." And they hurried off to buy their tickets.
The weight of his luggage considerably lighter, Cale followed the group of chattering students towards the gate; led by their professor, Christel and himself had once again drifted to the back of the group so they could talk in private.
"Christel," Cale began, turning to her. "Have you ever felt something that you should have experienced even though you know that the mere thought of it seems practically absurd?"
When Cale noticed that Christel had a look of complete bewilderment across her face, he proceeded to tell her about the sudden lapse in his memory when he met the man on the bus, including the part about that same man tailing him into the airport. However, he left out how he truly felt about his recollection, and the strong, anguished sense of betrayal he felt.
Christel spent their time walking to the gate deep in thought. "You know what I think," she answered finally. "You've been sleeping a little too late and watching too much violence and smut."
Cale, strangely, found Christel's insensitive presumption appropriately cheerful for his anxiety.
"You don't know, don't you," Cale asked, grinning. They had walked into the gate now, and joined the queue at the security checkpoint. "And I don't watch as much smut as you do."
Christel's faced reddened. "Don't you dare say that out loud!" she hissed, throwing glances at people passing them in case they heard. "People might think I'm perverted or something."
"Well, naturally, your kind is," Cale said mischievously.
Cale could see that the sting of his words hit Christel like a slap to her face. As they separated into two lines for their checks, Cale tried hard to stifle a grin as Christel tried in vain to reach out and grab him. They were cut apart by a solid plastic barrier, several feet across, with large screens reflecting their images on both sides. Despite Christel's blurred image, Cale distinctively saw her mouth, "I'll get you" through the translucent glass.
I'm sure you will, Cale thought gleefully to himself.
At the security checkpoint were two humans and a creature that was unmistakably a Mantrin. Apparently, Cale saw, the reason for the slow queue was the security officers insisting each passenger to empty their bag's contents for inspection. While prying and poking through the mess, the passenger's passport was checked and re-examined by the Mantrin. Only after passing through a metal detector were they allowed to board the ship.
When his turn came, Cale surrendered whatever luggage he was carrying to the two hassled security officers. Immediately they began to dissect his bag.
"Only clothes and books," Cale insisted on telling them but he was ignored. The Mantrin checked his passport.
"Cale Tucker?" he asked.
"That's what it says on the passport, doesn't it?" he replied impatiently.
The Mantrin gave him a black look. He had stepped through the metal detector without any sound. But he seemed to be held back for reasons unknown.
"Human?" he leered over him unpleasantly.
"Don't you have eyes?" he retorted, defiance in every syllable.
"I've got a gun, human, I can make you pay for your defiance," the Mantrin growled.
"Oh yeah?" he countered. He was sick of being bossed around by inferior creatures who treated him like trash. "I've got the Drej on my side, asshole, so give me back my passport before they start hunting Mantrins too."
The Mantrin looked ashen-faced at the powerful response; the mere mention of the Drej was enough to frighten other races, and everyone knew about their policy for zealously guarding their conquered colonies. With a low, deep growl, the Mantrin flung the passport into Cale's hand, stepping aside to let him past. A look of triumph written across his face, Cale slowly made his way onto the ship to find his friends.
It had been quite a while since he had sat this kind of shuttle transport; he could vaguely remember Tek bringing him on board one to escape the Drej's onslaught. The shuttle looked medium-sized for its class. It had a shade of dull brown; its back, near its huge thrusters, seemed charred black. Cale saw the two outstretched wings, slightly curved at their respective ends to streamline space travel. Hundreds of tiny windows were alight like miniature dots; propped up at a gentle vertical gradient by the take-off apparatus, Cale entered the ship, passing through a curtain of hissing mist.
The first thing Cale noticed about the ship's interior was how luxurious it was. Apart from the chilly feeling he had when he first entered, he was greeted by the sight of a green carpet, its surface smooth on his soled feet, that ran the entire length of the ship's aisle, diverging into smaller sections as it went. The cabin crew, dressed in their company uniforms and decorated with rank insignia, ushered him to a seat. However, Cale insisted that he find his group first. Passing other cabins, he couldn't help notice the large, onboard television screens and the spacious distance between the seats.
"Took your time, didn't you?" went a drawling voice.
Christel, along with the other half of the class, had seated themselves at the very end of the cabin. Cale was just about to put his luggage on the compartment above when he saw that the seat beside Christel's had already been occupied. His face dropped a bit, and the seat's occupant, Andrei, grinned.
"Sorry about that Cale," he mumbled. "But Christel insisted on me having seat beside her. But don't worry, the crew say that the journey will take just slightly more than a day."
Trying to keep his mind clear, Cale stuffed his duffel bag into the overhead compartment and sat down on the row right in front of Christel's, glancing sulkily out of the window. He knew that it would take some time for the shuttle to take-off, and for that thrill of flying to overtake him. Outside, airport personnel were loading cargo onto the shuttle amidst strong winds and a heavy downpour. The combination of the cool temperatures both inside and outside the shuttle were beginning to mist up the window.
Still bored, Cale resented drifting back into his thoughts; he found himself too vulnerable and helpless there. Instead, he tried to amuse himself by switching to different channels on his personal radio. But from the aisle came a conversation that drowned even the loud, heavy metal music he was listening to.
"You got your orders, right?" went a man's voice. It sounded rather surly and harsh.
"Keep your hair on, Rasz," went another. This time the voice belonged to a girl, but carried enough defiance in it to sound as if Cale himself had spoke. "You just start the thing, Ishaq and I will follow."
"Right," the first voice spoke again, sarcastically.
Out from the cabin in front, two people came into his lime of sight. One was a boy; he had his long, unkempt hair tied into a ponytail, and spotted a goatee. He seemed badly tanned, or maybe it was all because his acid green shirt and khaki slacks had brought out his colour a little better. Sweeping past Cale, hew cast him a look of suspicion as he passed, but paused before sitting down to choose his seat.
The second was a girl, whom Cale knew at once that the voice belonged too. At first glance, Cale thought she was cool - a sleek and slinky chick. She had worn a loose jacket over her tight khaki shirt; a reflection light told Cale she was wearing leather jeans. But what made her stand out was her hair: two long, streaking purple bangs, falling on either side of her face, bordering her eyes.
At once the feeling had started again; no sooner had Cale stared into her eyes than the powerful recollections wracked through his mind. In his head he felt pain like never before, splitting his thoughts to deliver a series of emotions that turned him painfully stiff. Like in a distant, vague dream, the experiences seemed so real: a face staring down at him washed by bright white light, another breathless run, an unearthly pull into a dark void, the gnawing of ice, the adrenaline of fighting a colossal battle and the joyous realisation of victory - in a distant world, bathed with rain and splashed with sunlight, gazing out at an endless sea.
Then came his feelings. Not only did he feel a sense of admiration and respect, he felt, maybe truly for the first time in his life, sad for no apparent reason. A deep sense of commitment ran through him - and understanding, a strange feeling of pure love that he never thought would taste.
It wasn't the same love that he felt when Christel kissed him; that was assuring love, an ignorantly blissful visage of the mind. This love he felt now was more than just assurance, it was commitment; it was for all the times he and his partner had been together, for all the similar trials and dangers that they went through together to get this base of understanding each other's covenant for each other. This was true love.
Weakened by the rush of emotions, Cale slumped into his seat, still strong enough to see the girl stagger away a few steps, then fall into the empty seat beside him.
"Akima," went the boy's voice, like in a faraway world, spiraling into reality. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah," responded the girl. "Just a little tired that's all. I'll take this seat for the time being."
The girl had stumbled into the seat, breathing heavily. But she seemed to recover faster than he did. His breathing still jagged and coarse, Cale saw the girl's face turn to his, eyes narrowed, searching his face for an answer. There was none.
But Cale got over the feeling, just like he did before. The cabin crew were tucking them in now, and the captain announced over the voice system that it was time to buckle up. Very reluctantly, Cale strapped the seat belt across his waist; he wanted to feel the rushing thrill of lift- off at its maximum - without a seat belt - but he knew better than to break safety regulations.
"Passengers, your captain, here," said a gruffly, distorted voice over the voice system. "We're one minute away from take-off."
Christel tapped him over the shoulder. "Scared?" she asked
Cale couldn't resist a laugh. "You wish."
Right now all Cale wanted to feel was the adrenaline, the blood rushing through his veins at the shuttle's total defiance of gravity. Eyes closed, he waited - the captain confirmed that they had thirty seconds remaining - his mind seemed blissfully clear, anticipating the blast that would throw him back into his seat - yes, fifteen seconds, getting nearer - taking a deep breath, his hands were sweaty in excitement - come on, what's taking them so long - seven seconds left - any time now - three, two, ONE.
As if some invisible force had been thrown against him, Cale jerked back, his body being forced into the cushion fabric. All around him there was a powerful shaking, the dull rumbling of the thrusters as it tried to blast the shuttle of the ground. Gaining lift, the force became ten times stronger; a mighty crushing sensation had fallen on Cale's body, grinding, groaning, lifting the ship into the sky. Jabs of pain running through his body, he couldn't have felt better; the shuttle was now in the air, and with a thunderous roar, the engines blasted the shuttle into the sky. A light, floating sense overcame him now; they were flying, they were in the sky.
It took a complete five minutes for the lumbering shuttle to make it out of the Earth's atmosphere. Once free of that parasitic gravitational burden, the shuttle burst forth with a sudden jerk, like a bullet bursting out of a gun or a cork erupting from a bottle once its sealed grip had been broken. Cale was almost wrenched free of his seat belt when this jerk happened; now the shuttle was plowing forward into space, the speeding rush of acceleration hit Cale. Smiling, he opened his eyes, enjoying every bit of the journey.
From his right came a muffled moan.
"You all right, Ishaq?" the girl called Akima asked.
"I hate that crushing sensation," went Ishaq. "Feels as if I've got an elephant sitting on my face."
Both Cale and Akima laughed at the same time.
"Yeah well, you don't need to get use to it," she said.
Minutes later, the cabin crew were out patrolling the aisles again, asking people for drinks and serving the first of the three meals they were going to have on board. A steward passed him Cale a tray of food, accompanied by his requested drink. While eating silently, he noticed that the girl beside him wasn't eating.
"You're not eating?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied, without looking at him. "Not in the mood to talk either."
Cale was silent for a while, then he couldn't resist the urge to continue.
"You're Akima, right?"
His question got her attention; turning towards him, she studied his face for a few seconds before speaking.
"How did you know my name?" she eyed him suspiciously.
"Oh, just heard you talking with your boyfriend, that's all."
Akima felt a great surge of relief flood through her. "Oh, right. So you're not going to try and hit on me?"
Cale grinned and gestured to the seat behind him where Christel was playing chess with Andrei, deep in concentration. "I don't think my girlfriend would be too happy."
Akima didn't smile. "Good for you."
"So since we're cooped up here," Cale pushed aside his lunch, glancing at Akima uncertainly. "What do you want to talk about?"
Akima seemed taken aback, but gratified. Well, at least I'll get a chance to talk to a decent person before it all ends, she thought. She searched her mind for a suitable topic before speaking: "Who the hell are you?"
Cale sat back in his seat, slowly recalling his personal history. "I'm Cale Tucker, twenty, from Denver. I'm orphaned, so I've got a blissfully obscure family of Vusstrans, who believe in my existence only when I'm in mortal peril. I come from Stratton, best university for mechanical engineering in the world. That's why I'm here, going on an exchange trip to D'amara."
He stuck out his hand to Akima, who reluctantly looked at it, before saying, "I'm Akima Kunimoto; orphaned and feisty. That's all you need to know."
Once Akima took Cale's hand, the surge of experiences began again for the two of them. Like touching hands sent some electric shock through their nerves, they were gripping each other's palms tightly as blinding, flashing scenes played across their minds. Blasted forward into some kind of distant dream, both of them recalled flashes of light and sudden emotions - of running, of adrenaline flooding through their veins, of anger and disbelief, of intense pain and blood, of an elated feeling of victory and of bliss, committed love, deep true affection. A scene stood etched out in their present memory - the two of them, holding hands, wind kissing their faces tenderly, gazing across a vast stretch of ocean, never happier.
The recollections ended as soon as they began, and both of them, panting, broke the vice-like grip that had held them together for the last twenty seconds.
"Did you feel that?" Cale asked her.
Akima wasn't too inclined to answer.
"Feel what?" she lied.
"That.thing. you know, that strange flashing.recollection. You mean you didn't feel it?"
"I felt something."
"There!" went Cale, unable to control his excitement. "You felt it too! I'm telling you, this is damn weird. It's the third time it's happened to me today and I."
Cale was interrupted by some shouting that was taking place in the cabin up front. Looking over the seat in front of him, Cale saw bodies squirming, fighting to overpower each other. Three men were in the struggle; one was a muscular, tall boy like himself, who had punched his assailant in the face. With a sickening thud, his assailant fell to the ground, face bleeding. Those watching gasped as the boy drew a gun, then fired heartlessly upon his second assailant. For a second Cale thought this was all some film show gone wrong, or a tragic end to a minor argument. But it wasn't.
As a third passenger began screaming and urging everyone else to fight, the boy shot straight through him. Others got up, but from out of nowhere rose a huge, towering female Mantrin. As their attackers tried in vain to disarm the pair, they were either gunned down or beaten aside. Cale knew at once who they were: hijackers.
Cale was watching when, to his surprise, Akima got up from her seat.
"You can't take them on!" Cale protested, fear slowly creeping into his eyes. "They'll kill you."
Akima wore an apologetic grin on her face. "Sorry, Cale, but I've got to help them."
Cale's mouth fell open; slowly, bit by bit, numb disbelief began to flow through him, hampering his ability to say anything. He wanted to call her back, but he seemed to have lost his voice. But deep in his mind, his common sense summarised everything that had happened in the last ten seconds into a stray, abstract thought: So she's one of them as well!
Akima and her friend walked over to the pair, who was joined by a third man. He seemed to pass out instructions before they dispersed. Watching intently, Akima disappeared in the direction of the cockpit with that man while her friend, Ishaq, cleared his throat. He took his fellow hijacker's gun and shot into a chair for silenced, as he addressed the whimpering, terrified passengers in a clear, final voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as hijackers we are taking control of this shuttle from this point onwards. Please phone your last calls to your family and friends on Earth right now - because all of you are going to die."
There was a mortified, sobbing gasp that spread through the entire cabin, but Ishaq wasn't finished.
"And anyone who tries to take control of this shuttle since we are in command, will die."
He mercilessly drew a huge, glistening blade and struck the passenger beside him. With a rip of fabric and the slicing of flesh, the passenger slumped into his blood-soaked chair, an alarmed, afraid cry going out from everyone.
Cale saw, and his heart missed a beat. For once in his life, he was going to meet death. Blind panic, pure fear numbed his body, fuelled by the disbelief he had experienced earlier. The taste of fear seemed new to him, alien and powerful; if this Ishaq meant what he said, he was helpless, scared and going to die.
Fear; its curse was upon him and its outcome led to his death.
Written by Shelter
DAWN BROKE, cold and misty, on a downcast Sunday morning. The fog that had encircled the city for two simultaneous nights had condensed as dew, turning the wind-chime on Cale's window ledge into a spectacle of nature, encrusted with glittering, miniscule drops of water that gleamed in the obscured sun. From the window wafted, unnoticed, a fresh, natural scent - the sweet breath of a new morning - into the bedroom. It carried with it the scent of unrefined, pure water mingled with the breath of oxygen from plants and trees not far outside. It was the breath of life: clean, fresh air, purer than anything else on Earth.
It's just air, damn it!
Cale paced about in his bedroom, his mind wandering to the open, jungle green, duffel bag sprawled on his bedspread. Had he forgotten anything that he would absolutely need in his two-week exchange program in D'amara? No, then why was he worried?
He glanced in the mirror that was positioned on a wall in the adjoining bathroom. A few minutes ago, he recalled how he pilled his groggy self from bed; staring into the mirror, he saw a half-alive, muddled zombie. Now, the view had changed. Right where he was standing, stood a boy, dressed in loose cargoes and an icy blue T-shirt. Strengthened and eager, with an eyebrow stud half- glimmering above his left eye. He was Cale; yeah, that's more like it, he told himself, staring in the mirror again, the pride of the human race.
Encouraged by what he saw and the thoughts lingering in his head, he zipped shut his duffel bag and swung it upon his right shoulder. He picked up his second load - a huge, loud orange-coloured haversack; balancing its weight evenly on his shoulders, he trudged out of his room.
It was just a Sunday morning, and his adopted family scuttled around the kitchen as usual as they would on any other day. With a loud thump, he slammed his luggage onto the floor, and walked up to the table, not looking at Tek or Iji. Toast and juice, he thought, it had been the same for years. Tek was pawing around aimlessly for his mug of water; being the blind bat he was, Cale turned away from him so that he wouldn't be given another lecture about helping his elders. Iji had her ears plugged into headphones, unaware of Cale's presence. As he slowly finished his breakfast, not even the silence that had settled around the table seemed to bother him.
Tek and Iji, he had long realised, were hardly going to miss him if he was gone.
"Be seeing you all," he muttered.
No response.
Cale didn't care; he had lost whatever love or devotion he had in this bunch a long time ago. He wanted a real family, with human parents. And all he had for a family were a blind geezer and his teenage creation. His mind hurt; Cale wasn't going to think about this again, because it involved his father - and thinking about him was painful.
Once again he had settled the load of his luggage on his shoulders, ready to leave. Tek's blank eyes had turned at him, looking at his moving figure as he edged his way to the door, trying not to make any noise that would awake Tek or Iji from their ignorant stupour. His efforts were crushed when Tek's drawling voice called from across the room.
"Mind you keep out of trouble now, Cale," Tek said to him.
"Trouble?" Cale retorted in a quiet tone so that Tek wouldn't be able to hear. "Trust me, Tek, if I wanted to go looking for trouble, I would've been just the riffraff my father was."
Casting a fleeting glance to his blissfully obscure family, he set down the stairwell of his apartment block, hoping to catch the seven-thirty airport coach that stopped across the street.
After being cooped up in the apartment, the morning air felt strangely cool against his face. Its comforting breath caressed Cale's hair, blowing it gently against his sides. The street was filled with the sound of cars, rolling by, making muffled swashing noises as they splashed through the puddles on the street; a passenger bus was parked across the street, slowly filling with passengers. People walked up and down the pavement, but nobody seemed to notice him. They displayed the properties that Tek and Iji had; Happily obscure, ignorantly blank lives, thought Cale. Well, at least I'm not living one of those.
Cale boarded the coach and barely gave his neighbourhood a second look as it sped down the highway.
Despite the spread of cosmopolitan scenery unfolding outside his window, Cale seemed lost in his thoughts - about the blissfully obscure world that he lived in, his abomination of a family and inevitably, his father. The more he tried to put his father out of his life, the more it seemed to plague him, like a bad nightmare that wouldn't go away. Years after his father had left him with Tek, he had dwelled on the promise of seeing him return; he had been sustained on the sight of his remaining parent appearing on the porch of Tek's apartment. Lies, all lies.
The bus had come to an abrupt halt, and Cale looked up fast enough to notice that a passenger had boarded. Ragged clothing trailing behind him, he could hardly see that man's face beneath the scruffiness and dirt. There was a sort of hood, draped down his face to conceal it. But their eyes did meet as he brushed past him - and Cale felt the most unusual combination of thoughts go through his mind. It felt like a burning sensation, a deep unearthing of something he should've experienced: running breathless, surging through space choking for air, the comforting feel of security with talking and drinking, shouting as wind swept past his face, the thrill of flying through some uncharted sky. but most of all, a sense of deep respect. And something else too - betrayal.
Betrayal? Cale had felt it; among the strange emotions that his mind had so unexpectedly revealed, this one hit him like a bullet through the head. It came as a rude shock; waking him from whatever thoughts that had filled his mind, all to focus on that unnerving, distraught feeling. Cale sat, his mind devoid of any other thought: betrayal.
The man seemed to have felt it too, because he recoiled slightly. Cale couldn't tell if he really had experienced such a feeling, or was it the sudden lurching forward of the bus that triggered it? The man sat directly behind him, his breath escaping in irregular pants. Once in a while, he would hack violently, coughing to the ground. Sometimes, he would lean close to Cale, as if wanting to ask him something, only to retreat back into his seat.
By the time the bus had reached the end of the highway, the domineering skyscrapers of metropolitan Denver had disappeared, leaving a wide, open stretch of meadow to the left of the road. But to the right, tall smokestacks towered in the distance, spewing dense clouds of smoke. The ramshackle jumbles of oil refineries and noxious colour of chemical pools filled the landscape. It was a depressing sight; Cale wasn't spared the sight of the industrial wasteland any longer though, as the bus pulled into Denver airport right on schedule.
The man seated behind him alighted as well. Mingling with the crowd, Cale could sense him, following him at a near distance. He tried to ignore him; each time, he looked from the extreme corner of his eye, that ragged, trudging man seemed to trail into view. He tailed Cale through the airport's main doors, then past the airline counters. Cale could feel uneasiness slowly gripping him, numbing his thoughts.
Taking his mind of his pursuer, he scanned the thick, airport crowds with his eyes, searching for any sign of his friends - a sight that would certainly stifle his nervousness. Then he heard a shout; a wave of relief surged through his mind and the anxiety he once felt faded.
"Cale!"
"Cale! Over here!"
By a bench facing the counters, were the smiling, bright faces of his classmates. Andrei and Christel waved to him; Cale couldn't have felt any more relieved. All those feelings, the tense emotions that he had when he was on the bus, were vague in comparison to the mirth and delight of his friends. They were his real family.
Christel got to her feet and kissed him softly on the cheek. "What delayed you?" she demanded. "We all thought you weren't going to show up."
Cale stammered for a minute, trying to fake his reasons. "Well. I. bus broke down. The coach.you know, it broke down on the way and I had to wait for. another one." Christel seemed satisfied, and invited him to sit with the rest; he spun around momentarily - the man had vanished. All that surrounded him now were crowds of people, idly walking past without a gaze at them.
"Is everyone here yet?" he asked.
"We're waiting for the professor that's all. I've already helped you with your ticket. With luck, maybe we could be sitting together," Christel grinned coyly.
Yeah, he thought to himself, real lucky.
Andrei was now babbling on about some latest musical release. Everyone seemed to be crowding around him now, all except Cale - and Maxell. Right now Cale didn't feel like talking; he wanted his mind to be at ease. He was going on a trip with his friends, and they were going to have the time of their lives. His mind tried in vain to convince him, but all he did was watch, gazing intently at the people that swept past him. His attention focused on two figures, their faces dark and obscured, disappearing behind a corridor.
"Hang on a second there, would you?" Akima called to Ishaq. She had walked down a corridor en route to the airport's departure hall. Here, the walls weren't dirty and splattered with mud and grime like those in her neighbourhood. Instead, the wall was a spread of marble mosaic, intertwined with intricate frescoes.
1.1 "Come on," he wheedled. "How much money do you need anyway?"
"Just a few hundred dollars," she replied. "And stop whining."
Right in the far corner was an automatic teller machine; Akima knew better than to venture right into a bank where Drej Drones stood guard just behind the counters. As she approached, the machine flickered in response and its monotonous, robotic voice echoed: "Welcome to the Citizens' Bank automatic teller machine service, please state your name and account number."
She sighed. "Akima Kunimoto. Seven, nine, three, three, six, seven, four."
A keyboard opened from the machine's metal casing. "Please identify thumbprint," it requested.
Very reluctantly, she put her thumb on the scanner and the screen glowed blue. "Withdrawal or deposit?"
"Withdrawal. Nine hundred bucks."
"What's this cash for?" asked Ishaq.
"The trip, of course," she replied. "It does cost cash, you know."
Ishaq bent in closer to her ear so that only Akima could hear his whisper. "What did you bring for the trip?"
"Switchblade."
"That's all?"
"Security's going to check your luggage before you get on the ship, right?"
"Yeah, but." Ishaq stared questioningly at her, ". you're going to hold off several hundred passengers with one switchblade?"
Akima forced a laugh. "We're expecting resistance?"
"Sure to be a pack of roughnecks in every crowd."
"And what're you going to do? Gun them down?"
Ishaq kissed her hard on her cheek. "That's Rasz's plan."
"Rasz is a fool. And you know it."
"But he's a renegade, isn't he? He hates the Drej more than anyone else."
Rasz hates the Drej more than anyone else? Akima repeated those words in her mind, well, we'll see.
While the machine continued to process the information, Akima suddenly became aware of two security cameras, eyeing her every move with their mechanical eyes, listening to their conversation with their unseen bugs. They glared at her suspiciously, and she glared back. For a moment, she wondered if her image on the bank's security screens would jeopardise her mission. She had been caught on tape for those few moments; but then again, it would take time to clarify her identity with the Drej internal security system, wouldn't it?
So to them, for now, she'd be another blissfully obscure person, seen laughing with her boyfriend and living life in the same ignorant way that everyone else did.
The machine regurgitated a wad of notes into her outstretched hand.
Blissfully obscure? She thought to herself. Why how wrong they were.
As she stuffed the notes into her back pocket, a voice interrupted the classical music that had been playing soothingly over the sound system. " Will all passengers for Flight forty-one bound for D'amara please proceed to Gate seventeen. Boarding will take place shortly."
Akima turned to Ishaq. "D'amara forty-one. That's us." And they hurried off to buy their tickets.
The weight of his luggage considerably lighter, Cale followed the group of chattering students towards the gate; led by their professor, Christel and himself had once again drifted to the back of the group so they could talk in private.
"Christel," Cale began, turning to her. "Have you ever felt something that you should have experienced even though you know that the mere thought of it seems practically absurd?"
When Cale noticed that Christel had a look of complete bewilderment across her face, he proceeded to tell her about the sudden lapse in his memory when he met the man on the bus, including the part about that same man tailing him into the airport. However, he left out how he truly felt about his recollection, and the strong, anguished sense of betrayal he felt.
Christel spent their time walking to the gate deep in thought. "You know what I think," she answered finally. "You've been sleeping a little too late and watching too much violence and smut."
Cale, strangely, found Christel's insensitive presumption appropriately cheerful for his anxiety.
"You don't know, don't you," Cale asked, grinning. They had walked into the gate now, and joined the queue at the security checkpoint. "And I don't watch as much smut as you do."
Christel's faced reddened. "Don't you dare say that out loud!" she hissed, throwing glances at people passing them in case they heard. "People might think I'm perverted or something."
"Well, naturally, your kind is," Cale said mischievously.
Cale could see that the sting of his words hit Christel like a slap to her face. As they separated into two lines for their checks, Cale tried hard to stifle a grin as Christel tried in vain to reach out and grab him. They were cut apart by a solid plastic barrier, several feet across, with large screens reflecting their images on both sides. Despite Christel's blurred image, Cale distinctively saw her mouth, "I'll get you" through the translucent glass.
I'm sure you will, Cale thought gleefully to himself.
At the security checkpoint were two humans and a creature that was unmistakably a Mantrin. Apparently, Cale saw, the reason for the slow queue was the security officers insisting each passenger to empty their bag's contents for inspection. While prying and poking through the mess, the passenger's passport was checked and re-examined by the Mantrin. Only after passing through a metal detector were they allowed to board the ship.
When his turn came, Cale surrendered whatever luggage he was carrying to the two hassled security officers. Immediately they began to dissect his bag.
"Only clothes and books," Cale insisted on telling them but he was ignored. The Mantrin checked his passport.
"Cale Tucker?" he asked.
"That's what it says on the passport, doesn't it?" he replied impatiently.
The Mantrin gave him a black look. He had stepped through the metal detector without any sound. But he seemed to be held back for reasons unknown.
"Human?" he leered over him unpleasantly.
"Don't you have eyes?" he retorted, defiance in every syllable.
"I've got a gun, human, I can make you pay for your defiance," the Mantrin growled.
"Oh yeah?" he countered. He was sick of being bossed around by inferior creatures who treated him like trash. "I've got the Drej on my side, asshole, so give me back my passport before they start hunting Mantrins too."
The Mantrin looked ashen-faced at the powerful response; the mere mention of the Drej was enough to frighten other races, and everyone knew about their policy for zealously guarding their conquered colonies. With a low, deep growl, the Mantrin flung the passport into Cale's hand, stepping aside to let him past. A look of triumph written across his face, Cale slowly made his way onto the ship to find his friends.
It had been quite a while since he had sat this kind of shuttle transport; he could vaguely remember Tek bringing him on board one to escape the Drej's onslaught. The shuttle looked medium-sized for its class. It had a shade of dull brown; its back, near its huge thrusters, seemed charred black. Cale saw the two outstretched wings, slightly curved at their respective ends to streamline space travel. Hundreds of tiny windows were alight like miniature dots; propped up at a gentle vertical gradient by the take-off apparatus, Cale entered the ship, passing through a curtain of hissing mist.
The first thing Cale noticed about the ship's interior was how luxurious it was. Apart from the chilly feeling he had when he first entered, he was greeted by the sight of a green carpet, its surface smooth on his soled feet, that ran the entire length of the ship's aisle, diverging into smaller sections as it went. The cabin crew, dressed in their company uniforms and decorated with rank insignia, ushered him to a seat. However, Cale insisted that he find his group first. Passing other cabins, he couldn't help notice the large, onboard television screens and the spacious distance between the seats.
"Took your time, didn't you?" went a drawling voice.
Christel, along with the other half of the class, had seated themselves at the very end of the cabin. Cale was just about to put his luggage on the compartment above when he saw that the seat beside Christel's had already been occupied. His face dropped a bit, and the seat's occupant, Andrei, grinned.
"Sorry about that Cale," he mumbled. "But Christel insisted on me having seat beside her. But don't worry, the crew say that the journey will take just slightly more than a day."
Trying to keep his mind clear, Cale stuffed his duffel bag into the overhead compartment and sat down on the row right in front of Christel's, glancing sulkily out of the window. He knew that it would take some time for the shuttle to take-off, and for that thrill of flying to overtake him. Outside, airport personnel were loading cargo onto the shuttle amidst strong winds and a heavy downpour. The combination of the cool temperatures both inside and outside the shuttle were beginning to mist up the window.
Still bored, Cale resented drifting back into his thoughts; he found himself too vulnerable and helpless there. Instead, he tried to amuse himself by switching to different channels on his personal radio. But from the aisle came a conversation that drowned even the loud, heavy metal music he was listening to.
"You got your orders, right?" went a man's voice. It sounded rather surly and harsh.
"Keep your hair on, Rasz," went another. This time the voice belonged to a girl, but carried enough defiance in it to sound as if Cale himself had spoke. "You just start the thing, Ishaq and I will follow."
"Right," the first voice spoke again, sarcastically.
Out from the cabin in front, two people came into his lime of sight. One was a boy; he had his long, unkempt hair tied into a ponytail, and spotted a goatee. He seemed badly tanned, or maybe it was all because his acid green shirt and khaki slacks had brought out his colour a little better. Sweeping past Cale, hew cast him a look of suspicion as he passed, but paused before sitting down to choose his seat.
The second was a girl, whom Cale knew at once that the voice belonged too. At first glance, Cale thought she was cool - a sleek and slinky chick. She had worn a loose jacket over her tight khaki shirt; a reflection light told Cale she was wearing leather jeans. But what made her stand out was her hair: two long, streaking purple bangs, falling on either side of her face, bordering her eyes.
At once the feeling had started again; no sooner had Cale stared into her eyes than the powerful recollections wracked through his mind. In his head he felt pain like never before, splitting his thoughts to deliver a series of emotions that turned him painfully stiff. Like in a distant, vague dream, the experiences seemed so real: a face staring down at him washed by bright white light, another breathless run, an unearthly pull into a dark void, the gnawing of ice, the adrenaline of fighting a colossal battle and the joyous realisation of victory - in a distant world, bathed with rain and splashed with sunlight, gazing out at an endless sea.
Then came his feelings. Not only did he feel a sense of admiration and respect, he felt, maybe truly for the first time in his life, sad for no apparent reason. A deep sense of commitment ran through him - and understanding, a strange feeling of pure love that he never thought would taste.
It wasn't the same love that he felt when Christel kissed him; that was assuring love, an ignorantly blissful visage of the mind. This love he felt now was more than just assurance, it was commitment; it was for all the times he and his partner had been together, for all the similar trials and dangers that they went through together to get this base of understanding each other's covenant for each other. This was true love.
Weakened by the rush of emotions, Cale slumped into his seat, still strong enough to see the girl stagger away a few steps, then fall into the empty seat beside him.
"Akima," went the boy's voice, like in a faraway world, spiraling into reality. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah," responded the girl. "Just a little tired that's all. I'll take this seat for the time being."
The girl had stumbled into the seat, breathing heavily. But she seemed to recover faster than he did. His breathing still jagged and coarse, Cale saw the girl's face turn to his, eyes narrowed, searching his face for an answer. There was none.
But Cale got over the feeling, just like he did before. The cabin crew were tucking them in now, and the captain announced over the voice system that it was time to buckle up. Very reluctantly, Cale strapped the seat belt across his waist; he wanted to feel the rushing thrill of lift- off at its maximum - without a seat belt - but he knew better than to break safety regulations.
"Passengers, your captain, here," said a gruffly, distorted voice over the voice system. "We're one minute away from take-off."
Christel tapped him over the shoulder. "Scared?" she asked
Cale couldn't resist a laugh. "You wish."
Right now all Cale wanted to feel was the adrenaline, the blood rushing through his veins at the shuttle's total defiance of gravity. Eyes closed, he waited - the captain confirmed that they had thirty seconds remaining - his mind seemed blissfully clear, anticipating the blast that would throw him back into his seat - yes, fifteen seconds, getting nearer - taking a deep breath, his hands were sweaty in excitement - come on, what's taking them so long - seven seconds left - any time now - three, two, ONE.
As if some invisible force had been thrown against him, Cale jerked back, his body being forced into the cushion fabric. All around him there was a powerful shaking, the dull rumbling of the thrusters as it tried to blast the shuttle of the ground. Gaining lift, the force became ten times stronger; a mighty crushing sensation had fallen on Cale's body, grinding, groaning, lifting the ship into the sky. Jabs of pain running through his body, he couldn't have felt better; the shuttle was now in the air, and with a thunderous roar, the engines blasted the shuttle into the sky. A light, floating sense overcame him now; they were flying, they were in the sky.
It took a complete five minutes for the lumbering shuttle to make it out of the Earth's atmosphere. Once free of that parasitic gravitational burden, the shuttle burst forth with a sudden jerk, like a bullet bursting out of a gun or a cork erupting from a bottle once its sealed grip had been broken. Cale was almost wrenched free of his seat belt when this jerk happened; now the shuttle was plowing forward into space, the speeding rush of acceleration hit Cale. Smiling, he opened his eyes, enjoying every bit of the journey.
From his right came a muffled moan.
"You all right, Ishaq?" the girl called Akima asked.
"I hate that crushing sensation," went Ishaq. "Feels as if I've got an elephant sitting on my face."
Both Cale and Akima laughed at the same time.
"Yeah well, you don't need to get use to it," she said.
Minutes later, the cabin crew were out patrolling the aisles again, asking people for drinks and serving the first of the three meals they were going to have on board. A steward passed him Cale a tray of food, accompanied by his requested drink. While eating silently, he noticed that the girl beside him wasn't eating.
"You're not eating?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied, without looking at him. "Not in the mood to talk either."
Cale was silent for a while, then he couldn't resist the urge to continue.
"You're Akima, right?"
His question got her attention; turning towards him, she studied his face for a few seconds before speaking.
"How did you know my name?" she eyed him suspiciously.
"Oh, just heard you talking with your boyfriend, that's all."
Akima felt a great surge of relief flood through her. "Oh, right. So you're not going to try and hit on me?"
Cale grinned and gestured to the seat behind him where Christel was playing chess with Andrei, deep in concentration. "I don't think my girlfriend would be too happy."
Akima didn't smile. "Good for you."
"So since we're cooped up here," Cale pushed aside his lunch, glancing at Akima uncertainly. "What do you want to talk about?"
Akima seemed taken aback, but gratified. Well, at least I'll get a chance to talk to a decent person before it all ends, she thought. She searched her mind for a suitable topic before speaking: "Who the hell are you?"
Cale sat back in his seat, slowly recalling his personal history. "I'm Cale Tucker, twenty, from Denver. I'm orphaned, so I've got a blissfully obscure family of Vusstrans, who believe in my existence only when I'm in mortal peril. I come from Stratton, best university for mechanical engineering in the world. That's why I'm here, going on an exchange trip to D'amara."
He stuck out his hand to Akima, who reluctantly looked at it, before saying, "I'm Akima Kunimoto; orphaned and feisty. That's all you need to know."
Once Akima took Cale's hand, the surge of experiences began again for the two of them. Like touching hands sent some electric shock through their nerves, they were gripping each other's palms tightly as blinding, flashing scenes played across their minds. Blasted forward into some kind of distant dream, both of them recalled flashes of light and sudden emotions - of running, of adrenaline flooding through their veins, of anger and disbelief, of intense pain and blood, of an elated feeling of victory and of bliss, committed love, deep true affection. A scene stood etched out in their present memory - the two of them, holding hands, wind kissing their faces tenderly, gazing across a vast stretch of ocean, never happier.
The recollections ended as soon as they began, and both of them, panting, broke the vice-like grip that had held them together for the last twenty seconds.
"Did you feel that?" Cale asked her.
Akima wasn't too inclined to answer.
"Feel what?" she lied.
"That.thing. you know, that strange flashing.recollection. You mean you didn't feel it?"
"I felt something."
"There!" went Cale, unable to control his excitement. "You felt it too! I'm telling you, this is damn weird. It's the third time it's happened to me today and I."
Cale was interrupted by some shouting that was taking place in the cabin up front. Looking over the seat in front of him, Cale saw bodies squirming, fighting to overpower each other. Three men were in the struggle; one was a muscular, tall boy like himself, who had punched his assailant in the face. With a sickening thud, his assailant fell to the ground, face bleeding. Those watching gasped as the boy drew a gun, then fired heartlessly upon his second assailant. For a second Cale thought this was all some film show gone wrong, or a tragic end to a minor argument. But it wasn't.
As a third passenger began screaming and urging everyone else to fight, the boy shot straight through him. Others got up, but from out of nowhere rose a huge, towering female Mantrin. As their attackers tried in vain to disarm the pair, they were either gunned down or beaten aside. Cale knew at once who they were: hijackers.
Cale was watching when, to his surprise, Akima got up from her seat.
"You can't take them on!" Cale protested, fear slowly creeping into his eyes. "They'll kill you."
Akima wore an apologetic grin on her face. "Sorry, Cale, but I've got to help them."
Cale's mouth fell open; slowly, bit by bit, numb disbelief began to flow through him, hampering his ability to say anything. He wanted to call her back, but he seemed to have lost his voice. But deep in his mind, his common sense summarised everything that had happened in the last ten seconds into a stray, abstract thought: So she's one of them as well!
Akima and her friend walked over to the pair, who was joined by a third man. He seemed to pass out instructions before they dispersed. Watching intently, Akima disappeared in the direction of the cockpit with that man while her friend, Ishaq, cleared his throat. He took his fellow hijacker's gun and shot into a chair for silenced, as he addressed the whimpering, terrified passengers in a clear, final voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as hijackers we are taking control of this shuttle from this point onwards. Please phone your last calls to your family and friends on Earth right now - because all of you are going to die."
There was a mortified, sobbing gasp that spread through the entire cabin, but Ishaq wasn't finished.
"And anyone who tries to take control of this shuttle since we are in command, will die."
He mercilessly drew a huge, glistening blade and struck the passenger beside him. With a rip of fabric and the slicing of flesh, the passenger slumped into his blood-soaked chair, an alarmed, afraid cry going out from everyone.
Cale saw, and his heart missed a beat. For once in his life, he was going to meet death. Blind panic, pure fear numbed his body, fuelled by the disbelief he had experienced earlier. The taste of fear seemed new to him, alien and powerful; if this Ishaq meant what he said, he was helpless, scared and going to die.
Fear; its curse was upon him and its outcome led to his death.
Written by Shelter
