Regardless of rumours, I'm not dead. Merely sleeping. My muse may have returned tho'…

Chapter Five: No regrets?

Polta opened his eyes and stared into the blazing darkness in front of him. There was a beeping to his left, and quickly his mind offered him a vision of the room as he knew it, where everything was in his memory translated to life. His bedroom, his sanctuary, his home, the private inner sanctum, the nest, where he'd always felt so safe and secure. Sitting up, he slid his hands over the soft sheets that covered him and to the bedside unit, carefully lifted his visor up and over his eyes, relaxing as his world became bathed in tones of colour. Electricity points became a shining orange, the edges of everything a rich green fading to black around the middle, almost like an ancient videogame. Things on his walls glowed brightly, droplets of different colours splashed across his screen, hauntingly beautiful to his fractured vision, while others sat and wondered about the artist and if they were wearing a straight-jacket while working. To Claude Polta, this queer world of dark and light was his home, and he always felt so comfortable with it.

Sliding out of bed and turning off his alarm clock, he located his clothing (glowing a pale creamy white against the darkness, in varying shades of pastels for different materials) and dressed, getting ready for the day. It was only when he opened the door that he got a big surprise.

His sister was looking back at him.

"Good morning. I was just coming to wake you."

He and Pierce had the same mother but different fathers. It was easy to tell by the colour of their hair – but Pierce's father had been of a darker skin tone than Polta's. Polta still kept his father's last name, regardless of what had happened, and he smiled as his sister hugged him tightly.

"Claude!" She murmured, burrowing into him.

"I wasn't expecting you back for a little while. Everything okay?"

"Kinda." She said, wistfully. She had their mother's beauty. Polta never felt jealous of his amazing younger sister, never, not for her skills, or the fact she was perfect in every way to him. If anyone dared hurt her…he'd kill them. "Just a few strange things here and there."

"Really? Look, my breath isn't that good right now, would you mind if I just brushed my teeth? It won't take a minute, I assure you…"

"Claude!" She playfully punched his arm. He was so much weaker than her…shaking himself a little; he gave her a brittle smile.

"You want breakfast?"

"I'd love to."

"Okay, gimme a minute." Slipping back into his room, Polta gathered up the papers he'd been looking at before he went to sleep that night and placed them back in the file. He never thought, in a million years, that Altile would ever go into battling again. I mean, sure, they were out of BackDRAFT now, and they were working on the old ruins that dotted the place, but for some odd reason, he really, really wanted to be the sponsor of the kid they'd dug up together. The same kid that had dropped off the face of the earth after asking if he could go to the local club and make some money off his guitar. Polta didn't trust him at all, he'd probably run away or something. No matter. They'd find him. Shoving the file under his arm, he decided that it was time to ask for help.

A few minutes later, both he and Pierce were eating breakfast at the little table in his kitchen, exchanging stories about life, the universe, and why dolphins don't try and take over the world. He missed these chats with her, when she was herself and not the person everyone always saw, the so-called bitch, slut, whore. She was none of those things, not Pierce.

"Claude?"

"Mmm?"

"Something's bothering you. I've never seen you cut your toast into soldiers that small and then not bother to dip them in your egg."

There was no point in lying to her. "Work problems."

"Really?"

"Yah."

Cocking her head to the side, she blinked. "What kind of problems? You can talk to me Claude. We're on the same side now…"

She was right, but he despised having to talk to her about it. It meant bringing her into things, and who knew where life was going to lead next? Biting his lip, Polta nodded. "Do you remember how…a couple of weeks ago…I said we had gone back in the Zoids circuit?"

"Of course. I've been trying to find out which battles you were in, but-"

"I wasn't piloting. I'm a strategist…it is my strongest point in this line of work. My team…It's Silence. Team Silence."

Pierce's eyes flew wide open and she gasped. "That was you?"

"No! Not me…! I told you, I just tell the pilot what to do."

Pierce continued to stare at him. "You were up to the top of class B in three weeks. Who the hell was piloting? Not that horrible Vega Obscura, was it? No, it couldn't be…"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Polta's hands brushed against the files. "Pierce…can you keep a secret?"

"Claude…"

"Please…you can't tell anyone."

"Claude, what's happened?" Her delicate hands skittered across the tabletop and caught his own, giving them an affectionate squeeze.

Lowering his voice to try and disguise the tremble that found it's way there, he began: "We found something. That lead…that piece of text in the old Imperial records…the story about a secret facility was all true. Ultimate Xs and everything…"

"You're kidding right?"

"No." Polta opened the file and placed a pair of photographs on the table, one of a youth, the other of a saurian type Zoid. "We managed to get in. It was a facility for testing Zoids all right…and we found something more. There were heaps of designs there, old books, computer data, everything. The place had been sealed from everything, air locked. There was a central dais…and something inside it. We…we opened it. We found him."

"This kid?"

"Our pilot." Running his hands through his hair, Polta winced. "Mute. The only member the team needs. He's…he's a prodigy."

"Like…Vega?"

"Vega's nothing compared to him. He took on three StormSworders with a relic from the old wars and came out without a scratch. He knows Zoids. He talks to them. He controls them."

Pierce's heart gave a flutter. "He…He's an ancient Zoidian?"

That was something they'd considered from the moment they'd laid eyes on him. "It's possible. Or at least, he's linked to them. Maybe he's got a bit of human in him…the facility was in the time of the old wars, and there were three ancient Zoidians found…it's possible he could be their offspring with a human parent…or maybe a grandchild. But why they would seal him away is a mystery…"

"My god."

"My thoughts exactly. Only now he's gone missing. I gave him some time off to thank him for all his hard work, and he said he wanted to play at a bar…he likes music. A lot. So he packs up his Zoid, takes his guitar and goes off, but doesn't meet me at the prescribed point. Pierce, I let him go. If I don't find him by the time Altile gets back, I'm dead. He's our money spinner…he cares nothing for cash, it's the battle he loves." He looked down at his lap, miserable. "I'm worried about him. He's just a kid. A little naïve, but a kid. I heard a story about a Redler being chased by a couple of Zabats two days ago…what if it was him? I can't help but feel responsible…and if he's hurt…"

"I thought you said he was good at battling."

"In a controlled situation, yeah…" Polta moaned. "But there was a fight at the bar…in a life and death situation, I have no idea as to how he'd react. I asked, and people did say a person fitting his description was in that fight, and did go off in a Redler…"

"You're asking if I've heard or seen anything?"

"You're one of the best Zabat pilots around. People go to you asking for information." Pierce blushed. "If something has happened, I'm pretty sure you'd know about it. If he needs help, I'd like to know where he is. He's my responsibility."

Pierce nodded. "Well…no one's said anything…but…" She thought hard. "I did hear that the Blitz team were in a battle two days ago. The battle was interrupted by a rival team…things went pretty bad. Someone died…"

"Really?" Polta's face fell. "That's terrible…"

"A Redler was involved, but the media said it was a rival team. That's all I know. I'm sorry."

"Oh…it's okay…" Polta tapped his fingers against his plate, and then dunked the little piece of toast in his still warm egg. "…Well it couldn't have been Mute. He's a loner. Hates working with a team."

"Oh, one of those sorts, eh?"

"Yes." Polta smiled. "Odd kid, but nice. I wonder where he is now…I hope Altile doesn't try to kill me after all of this…He's a great pilot, but geez…"

"I'm sure it's going to be okay. You'll find him."

Polta looked into the eyes of his sister, and wondered if he'd ever be able to see what she really looked like. All people to him were glowing shapes of light, their colours in negative. He could only guess what her true appearance was, and he wouldn't dare take his visor off in daylight. His eyes had been damaged enough. Licten's Disorder only evolved after the extensive use of the Gravity cannon in the massive wars that followed the DeathSaurer's demise, those in close proximity with it were gradually blinded by the chemicals it gave off. It was named after the first person that had contracted the disorder, the warrior Karl Licten Shubaltz, who was killed in action against the invading Zenebas empire. He was…what…thirty-two? A grand old age for a pilot in those days. Anyway, the chemicals had entered people's bodies without them realising it back then, and slowly but surely their genetic information had been contaminated and distorted. Those who lived to tell the tale passed on the defect to their children, and while there was like, one in a million chance of them developing it, it was carried on over the years. While it was nice to think he had the blood of heroes in his veins, Polta knew the reality – they were regular people who'd been tested on without knowing, and had paid the price, with disease that dogged them at every turn.

But he never let it get him down. Ever. Not in school, not when he was piloting, and certainly never when he was in BackDRAFT. But sometimes…

Pierce smiled at him, in her gentle, loving way. "Claude…you worry too much."

"I can't help it. I have Altile for a boss."

Giggling, Pierce picked up her plate and put it into the sink, letting the water run so she could do the washing up. "I'll check my sources. See if anyone knows about him. Can I take the photo along as well?"

"…Altile will be suspicious."

"Tell him it's for a girly magazine or something. He's been short listed for hottest pilot of the year."

"That picture of him is soddin' awful. It looks like he's a rabbit caught in headlights."

It was true, the little lad looked washed out, with his grey eyes wide and one hand raised to defend himself. It was right after they'd…

…Slowly everything moved back, as time had not hindered the mechanism as much as they had thought. The chill sank into their bones, and there was the ominous crack of ice as the dais lifted, exhibiting the creature it held. Chained, resting, the creature sat, it's metallic hide a rich crimson. There was no doubt about it, both of them had read the history books. This was Ambient, the only organoid in the Age of Discovery to be destroyed. But here he was, whole and somehow pure. Ice clung to his body, but as the warmth of the room penetrated him, he stirred, moaning. Could an organoid moan? This one did. Strange. Twisting as gently as he could, the organoid freed itself from it's bonds, and stared at them. Neither of them knew if he would attack or no, but instead, he yowled and shook. Then reared up, opening the chest cavity and releasing what he had carried inside him for who knew how many years. Then falling, the youth had appeared, bound by wires and pipes that secured him and fed him in his incarceration. The organoid fell where it stood, onto it's side, whining in pain perhaps, or exhaustion. Rolling, talking in tongues, the child had writhed and screamed at the darkness, screamed at the organoid, screamed at them. Then Altile had moved forward, and pulled him away, away from the cold dais that burnt his white skin, pulled him up and then pulled out the camera…

…found him. He shivered again.

Perhaps, if they'd known what would happen next, they wouldn't have messed with what was left behind. But boy and organoid had happily gone to work for them, only showing their true colours now and then, the cold anger and resentment they had against the world.

Wherever he was, Polta hoped he was behaving. Because if he wasn't, Altile would come down on him like a tonne of bricks. And Altile was a man you did not cross, not even if you were a Zoidian half breed or whatever. Nosiree.

Mute, where are you?

~ to be continued.