Baaaaam-badum-dum! Yes, it's another chapter. Sorry to have kept you waiting, it took a hellish long time to write this one, and I really appreciate it if you actually were waiting. Makes me feel all warm and authory inside.
Originally when I started this story, it was about one thing and one thing only. And that was Raven. But now that I've planned it out more, and expanded the events that happen, the focus has altered a bit. Instead of one main character and all supporting characters, it's now two main characters, five sub-main characters and a whole host of others who don't matter as much. Now Raven-lovers don't fret: he's still the absolute point of the story, even though he's pretty useless right now. But I'm quite liking what I came up with for the other main and the sub-mains, so I'll continue on this path, OK? OK.
Oh, and what I said about there being no romance: I lied. But I'm not letting on who, what and when details. Hee, you'll have to suffer.
No own Zoids.
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I'll Pity You When You're Gonexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Four: Linear Relations
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He was trapped. Between the Gojulas units and Reese's monster of a Zoid, Van couldn't escape with the Blade Liger in one piece. The twin moons illuminated the fierce edges of his opponents. Further back, atop a church's steeple, was the focus of his attention. And his main problem.
The bell of the tower clanged, sending its psychological prompts ringing into the air. If it was destroyed he wouldn't have to worry about the Gojulas anymore. There would only be Reese to contend with. But Fiona was there. She was there, bound to a stake, bare metres away from his target. If his aim was off, even by a little, Fiona would die.
Van was aware of Reese in his head, taunting and tantalizing. Just destroy the whole church Van. . . two birds with one stone. His grip on the control lever was shaky with doubt.
"Get out of my head!" he shouted, swinging the Liger around towards the stone building. It was now or never. The aiming crosshairs on the display converged on the bell. With a shrill beep they locked on, and it took less than a second for Van to fire. The Liger was rocked back on its haunches as the missiles lauched forwards. In a matter of seconds they would reach their target. A split second before they impacted, time seemed to freeze. His eyes widened with fright.
They were going to hit her!
A colossal explosion rent the air apart. Burning light fanned outwards in fire and debris, showering down around the Blade Liger like a storm. Many of the Gojulas fell to the ground with gaping holes in their sides torn by flying stones. Dust billowed outwards, obscuring everything from view. Van was aware of his breathing like never before, waiting for the dust to clear. He leant forward, willing it to have gone right.
The dust cleared.
The church was gone.
"No. . ." Van whispered. His eyes started to sting with tears and he didn't care. Fiona was dead because of him. Dead. He curled up shivering and sobbing in the cockpit, unable to look anymore. Reese's mocking laugh was an echoing whisper in his mind, consummating his grief.
"Murderer. . ."
xXx
Van's eyes snapped open in the dark. Slowly he became aware of where he was, and what he was doing there. There was scant difference between the ebony blackness of the room and the almost totally dark sky through the window but for a scattering of tiny stars. He relaxed, letting the built up tension from the nightmare leave him. The sheets were twisted around him bizarrely, which obviously meant he'd been thrashing about in his sleep. Again.
Gazing at a ceiling he could not see, Van wondered. How much of the dream had really been nightmare? Most dreams – his at least – were based in truth and then shaped and shifted into something more fantastic. Most of this nightmare had been true; the church, attacking Zoids and Reese's power were certainly fact. Destroying the church and Fiona had been the real nightmare. The rest was just memory. He listened to himself breath. Or was the nightmare really false, or just another memory? A possibility that had not come to pass? Remembrance of a memory he'd never experienced, planted by another person. Reese, of course. Yet he sometimes doubted. Perhaps Reese was not the sole reason for these murderous thoughts. After all, she dealt with games of the mind. Maybe she had only used what she had found inside him, inside his darker core hidden by years of training, working, and forgetting.
My darker core, he thought wearily, shifting on to his side in the dark. And only through nighttime and nightmare does it haunt me. . .
Or so he had believed.
Van sighed. He would not sleep again, he knew that through experience. Twisting his head, he cast his gaze about for the clock somewhere to his right. Suddenly he could see the digital red glow of the timer. 3:51am.
He groaned, pressing his palms into his face. He was going to be awake and restless for hours yet. And it was far too early to get up and go wandering. He was sure to wake people up, seeing as this room was at the end of the dormitory corridor.
Inevitably his thoughts drifted back to more sullen ones. Van knew he was being a tad foolish, focusing on Reese so much and his assumption that he was her target alone. Fiona had told him about what Reese had implanted in her thoughts. And then there was Karl Shubaltz. It had been pretty bad to discover that a general in the Imperial Army – and his friend for that matter – was being forced against them, even though Karl had had no control over what he was doing. But how much worse had it been for Thomas? He remembered hearing the battle through his comm system. There had come a moment where Karl, devoid of any emotion, had said, "I don't know who you are." Thomas had said nothing, only the sounds of battle a few moments later broke the silence. Later, when Reese had been defeated, he'd seen Karl apologizing to Thomas, who had only mumbled, "It's all right, Karl. . ." without looking at him.
Van realized then how relatively somber Thomas had been afterwards. He'd hid it well, on the few occasions he'd seen him, but looking back on it now there had been little discrepancies in his behaviour. The most obvious had been the first time he'd seen Thomas after the battle. Van had looked out for him and spotting him went over. Thomas hadn't been facing him when he'd stopped and asked if he was alright. When he'd turned around to look at Van, he'd seen how shattered he was. Quick as a flash the expression was gone, the old Thomas back in place. "I'm fine," he'd said. "Just another day in the Guardian Force, huh?" He recalled the details he hadn't noticed at the time; how Thomas's shoulders had slumped a little, and his nervous tugging at his gloves. Van had only seen him fret with his gloves when he was extremely edgy and anxious. He supposed everyone had a nervous habit like that.
Van was just considering what his nervous habit might be when Thomas slammed open the door as though summoned by his thoughts. Van jumped and accidentally slid off the bed with a painful bang onto his back.
"Hey Van, you awake?" Thomas said rather loudly, squinting into the dark room. Then he noticed Van. "What are you doing on the floor?" Van scowled at him.
"Oh, it's this great new chiropractic exercise. You should try it sometime. I'll even help by pushing you off your bed in the middle of the night."
"Fell off the wrong side of the bed I see," Thomas replied blandly, waiting as Van picked himself up off the floor. "Well, at least you're awake. I have something to tell you."
"Better be important," Van grumbled, though really he was quite glad of Thomas's presence. He couldn't care less if his news was about BEAC, as long as it kept his mind on other things for once. Thomas gave him one of those looks that said of-course-it's-important-because-I'm-telling-you-it.
"Come out here, I'm not discussing it from the doorway. I can hardly see you." Not inclined to argue, Van came around the bed and out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Instead of asking again, he merely crossed his arms and gave Thomas a look. Thomas tilted his head back.
"Why do you do that? I didn't do anything wrong." Seeing that Van wasn't going to rise to the bait, he sighed. "Alright, I'll stop and get on with it. About ten minutes ago I received a transmission from Karl. He said that he's been getting information hinting that Hiltz has gotten an army of sorts together, and is planning to attack military bases, both Republican and Imperial. There's a base about a thousand kilometers from here, an Imperial one called Redstone, which he thinks is going to be a target."
Van was startled. "But Redstone is ages away from here. What does he expect us to do about that?"
"That's what I thought, but Karl said Hiltz isn't attacking tomorrow. Apparently the rumours say that he'll attack in six days. It would take us about five days to get there, so he wants us to go and help out in preparing a defense. It's a Guardian Force mission, which is why I came to tell you."
Van thought about this. They'd have to leave pretty soon, as in right now, if they wanted to get to Redstone in time to beat Hiltz. It would be a hard run, but they'd make it. But what about. . .
"Fiona," he muttered, rubbing his chin. He turned to look at Thomas. "I don't really think. . . she should probably stay here."
"What? Why?" Thomas blurted out, then flushed, but Van didn't really notice.
"Well it's. . . it's 3 in the morning, and we had a hard night, and she looked tired and. . . I don't want to wake her up," he finished lamely. He was looking at the ground to avoid looking at Thomas, who was staying quiet, and possibly thinking.
He's going to come up with reasons why we should bring Fiona, he thought sadly. Even I can think of plenty. So why don't I want her to come? Before he could consider this Thomas spoke again.
"If that's what you think is better, do it," he said quietly, drawing Van's attention back to the man. "You would know better than me." He regarded the younger Shubaltz brother silently. Do I really know better than you? Remembering his musings, he also wondered. And are you really 'all right'?
"Alright then. I just have to get my things," Van said, slipping back into his room. As he was pulling on his boots he thought of something. Snapping on the light he scrounged about for a piece of paper, and finding one scrawled hurriedly on it. He got up, note in hand, and went outside again. Thomas wasn't around, so he assumed he'd headed off to the Di Bison, seeing as he'd already been dressed when he'd come to get him. Walking swiftly down the corridor, he counted off the doors until he found the right one. He stopped in front of it and took a breath.
The door handle opened silently under his grip, and he slid the door open a crack. Van could see her inside, asleep on the single bed. He quickly entered and shut the door, making the room dark once more. He made his way over to the bedside table, and lay the note down on top. Straightening up, he made to leave, but stopped suddenly. He turned to look at Fiona, safe in her bed. He leaned down closer, and softly touched her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered silently.
And then he was gone.
xXx
Fiona scrubbed the sleep from her eyes as she headed down the corridor. Warm, champagne-hued light filtered through the windows that lined one side, a pleasant reminder that it was a dawning day on Zi. Yet she didn't feel as happy as she usually did about daybreak. Coming to a junction, she turned left and away from the natural light to the artificial kind that hospital wings called the norm. She pulled a crumpled note from her pocket, and read it again, though she knew it by heart already.
Fiona,
Thomas and I received orders to head out to the Redstone Imperial base this morning, in light of some rumours that Hiltz is planning to attack there. I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come, but you were asleep. I've left Zeke with you for company. If you want to, you can borrow a Zoid from this base and catch up with us later. I've already cleared it with Captain Hayes. It's a five day journey. I really am sorry.
Van.
Folding it but not putting it away, Fiona contemplated the letter as she walked. She was upset of course that Van had left her behind, as Zeke had been when she'd found him outside this morning. The organoid had practically howled when he saw her, and in the midst of all his bouncing and nudging she'd been able to gather that Van had argued very hard to keep him there. She had reassured Zeke, stroking him on his head until he calmed down, and told him they'd find Van soon. She knew Van didn't do things without a reason.
But what was the reason? Fiona scanned the note again. Van meant more here than what he had written. One sentence that jumped out at her was the one regarding Zeke. It was obvious to her that when he said 'for company' he had clearly been thinking 'for protection'. Usually he wouldn't have even considered that, he knew she was capable enough on her own, and usually it would have puzzled her. But not today.
It's because of Raven, isn't it, Van? she thought, coming to another corner. His presence is eating at you, making you nervous, making you worried. . .
It was also obvious that by saying she could follow him, he'd been rational enough to know that was exactly what she would want to do. And he would want it too.
Passing a sign that said 'D Ward', she realized she'd gone past the room. Cursing her flighty thoughts, Fiona backtracked to the C Ward. She paused outside a door labeled 'Room C19' and peered in the viewing window.
There didn't seem to be much change in Raven's condition, seeing as he was still asleep. Admittedly it had only been around five hours since he was brought in. The only difference was that he was lying on his right side now, and she would have been able to see his eyes if they weren't half-obscured with rough locks of charcoal hair. She still found it hard to imagine that this starved, beaten person could have destroyed so much. He just did not seem to have that malevolent presence about him anymore.
That did not mean, however, that she could trust him. The day she and Van had met Raven, Fiona had picked up nothing from him but a desire for them to leave him alone. But Van had been so persistent in trying to be friends with him that they had learned what Raven truly was. A hardened tool of Prozen, bent on destruction. And despite his efforts, Van was singled out as Raven's foe, and there had been no question of reconciliation between the two.
Fiona was brought back from memory lane by a cheerful voice. "Good morning Miss Fiona!" called the doctor from last night, coming up next to her and smiling. She returned the grin in turn: the man was infectious.
"Hello doctor Sharlen. How are you?"
"Oh I'm great. I just had a three hour nap, and I'm all set to start my rounds. And my first patient is right in that door."
They both tilted their heads to look through the window. "Doctor Sharlen," Fiona said. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, but call me Dale. No need to be so formal," he grinned, running a hand through his short chestnut hair. Fiona smiled again.
"Alright, Dale. You know who that is in there, right?" Dale nodded. "Well, I have to ask. Doesn't it make you. . . angry. . . to have to treat him? Knowing all the things that he's done, the people he's killed?" He was quiet for a few moments, tapping his pen against his clipboard as he considered. Then he looked at her, usual smile absent.
"I can understand why you'd think that. And I know that some of the other nurses and doctors aren't pleased about it at all. But to be honest, it doesn't bother me. I don't want you to misunderstand me though. I resent what he's done, and what he was. Yet he is a patient, and I care about all my patients. I couldn't call myself a doctor if I wasn't able to put aside my own differences to do my work to the best of my ability. Besides," Dale smiled a little. "I'm a firm believer in second chances. Maybe this is Raven's."
Fiona felt slightly better for hearing Dale's sentiments so honestly put, and thanked him. "Oh, no need for thanks," he said, twisting open the door. "Give me half a chance and I'll talk for ages, no matter what the subject is." Slipping into Raven's room, he shut the door behind him. Oddly refreshed, Fiona set out again. She decided to talk with Captain Hayes before deciding anything.
Then, she would go after Van.
xXx
Black faded into light, wholesome and disorientating. He felt sluggish, as though sleep had done little more than dampen his exhaustion into numbness.
Aware that he was in the same place as the last time he had woke, Raven was at a loss. In what he could remember of his life, he had never woken twice to the same surroundings. His memory only went so far, and most was a monotonous blur as day after day had been the same, and so had not warranted much thought. When there was a change he would remember a fact for a few precious moments. In those times he thought without thinking; he had no control over it. Now, and here, in this room, there was nothing. He was truly on his own, and the thought was not comforting, as there was hardly anything to him. His conscious mind was reflex acts, thoughts and feelings, with a small store of memory. Nothing more. There was the clouded part as well. Raven knew – no, felt – that whatever lay there was significant. He just could not contemplate how.
The sunlight creeping in from the windows illuminated shadows across the walls that he could not identify. He also felt distinctly sick. Shifting slightly, he found that the feeling remained. There is something wrong with me, he thought, finally seeing what he had not been able to grasp for weeks. Combined exhaustion and endless travel had eliminated most thoughts like that from his mind, and it had only been the odd times between movement and sleep that he had felt vaguely that he was missing something important. From both having more time than usual stationary and being in a hospital he had been able to come to this conclusion at last.
Before he could even give the matter any more thought, there was the creak of a door opening and someone talking. Twisting his head he could see someone back into the room, still speaking with another person he could not see. Like a thunderclap an instruction arose from his hidden mind.
Get up!
Raven snapped his head up and had pushed himself off the bed with his arms before the man at the door had even finished speaking. He caught the tail-end of his conversation:
". . .chance and I'll talk for ages, no matter what the subject is." Click, the door was shut once more. The man was smiling, and still was when he turned around. "Now, onto. . . oh."
He had caught sight of Raven, struggling to hold his half-sitting position. The man was dressed in a white jacket, and must have been a doctor who had something to do with him. He looked half-concerned and half-amused.
"Well, I see you've come around again. Nurse Bayard told me about the first time you woke."
Raven could feel his arms beginning to shake, and knew he would not be able to support himself for much longer. He was inexplicably frightened, of what he didn't know. The doctor seemed to be aware of this, as he hurried over, all traces of humour gone from his face. He passed him, and there was a springing clang sort of noise from behind him.
"There, I adjusted the bed. You can lay back now without tiring yourself out." Raven partly slid, partly collapsed backwards onto the raised mattress. He felt worse now, and it seemed to him that the sickness he had felt had shifted to become hollowness in both his body and spirit. The doctor was now checking al the machines around the bed, paying extra attention to the IV drip in his arm. Everything still had a slight fuzzy quality to it that no amount of blinking would clear.
"Now," the doctor said, finally addressing Raven directly. "I'm going to spare you all the details, but basically you're in bad shape. Most worrying was the dehydration and the fact that you haven't eaten properly in a long while." He stared at the doctor nonplussed, who fidgeted a bit. "Er, yes. Well, we've managed to restore a good deal of fluid to your system, which was our primary concern. However, you still need to eat." With the last sentence he had turned and grabbed a food tray off a trolley, and now set it down in front of Raven. "You eat some of that, and I'll be back to check on you in half an hour or so." He turned on his hell then and exited through the door, leaving Raven alone once more. He looked at the door for a while longer. What was going on?
Eventually his gaze wandered down to the tray on his lap. There was a roll, a packet of ready-made soup, and a couple of small carrots. He didn't want to look at the carrots. He pushed at the bread absently with a finger. The doctor had said he needed to eat. Perhaps he should. He could think of nothing else to do, or think of. Maybe the emptiness he felt would leave him. He picked the roll up with his left hand, still uneasy about the intravenous pipe burrowing into it, and bit off a small piece. It was soft, and practically tasteless. He forced himself to swallow, and then looked at the roll in his hand. There didn't seem to be much point in the exercise. Still, he thought as he distantly chewed another mouthful, it was occupying him; giving him some sort of purpose and orientation.
Raven managed to finish off the whole roll before he started to feel queasy. He slumped back against the bed again, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.
He still felt hollow.
xXx
"Of course you can borrow a Zoid, Miss Fiona. We can have a Shield Liger prepared in no time."
Fiona sighed in relief. It had been five hours since her first attempt to speak with Captain Hayes, and up until this seventh attempt he had always been in conference or somewhere else. Finally, the man had summoned her to come to his makeshift office in the secondary rooms near the gate. It was good to know he cut right to the heart of the matter.
"However," Captain Hayes said, leaning forward in his chair a bit. "I have a favour to ask of you." Fiona felt her spirits sink. What could he possibly want? "You are quite welcome to refuse, you understand. As you know, Redstone is the nearest Imperial base to this one. Because of the damage caused last night none of my men will be able to leave for quite some time, as they are all required in the repair effort. As it stands, you're the only one who can help us out. We would like you to take the prisoner Raven to Redstone."
"Wh-what?" she stammered, taken aback. She hadn't expected this. Captain Hayes looked sympathetic.
"I realize what that sounds like, and believe me I wouldn't blame you if you declined. It is only that it's simply not practical to detain him here. First and foremost, he is – or was – a part of the Gailos Empire, and as such it is not our place to judge the boy or hold him on our base. It would mean a great deal to us if you could do this favour."
"But he's. . ." Fiona paused, wildly searching for a good reason to refuse. "Sick," she finished lamely. Captain Hayes gave her a look.
"We've already consulted with Raven's doctor, Sharlen. He said that although it's not in his best interests, he is fit enough to last the journey."
Fiona grimaced and rubbed her temples. A five-day trek through the desert with Raven?The very thought should have terrified her. Raven was not known for being pleasant to people. He was far more likely to wring her neck in the middle of the night, then take off with the Shield Liger whilst drinking a cup of tea! And yet . . . some small, annoying part of her implored that she do it. There was no rational explanation for this feeling. It was just there.
And, she supposed, I will have Zeke with me. He couldn't possible move faster than an organoid, even if he does . . . dispose of me.
She sighed again, realizing she'd committed herself mentally by merely considering the notion. Damned conscience, she thought savagely.
"OK, Captain . . . I'll do it," she agreed with a nod. Looking a bit surprised, but immensely relieved, Hayes got up from his chair and extended his hand. She shook it with her own, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
"I assume you'll want to leave immediately. I'll go prepare everything, just wait right here." And with that he left through the door.
Now she had to wait again. For the next twenty minutes she amused herself by exploring the office. There were a number of things on the desk: pens, papers, lamp, paper clips, a hat, some stickers which read 'CONFIDENTIAL' and 'TOP SECRET', and . . . what was that thing? She peered closer. For all the world it appeared to be an amber-hued glass ball, flattened on the bottom to kept it from rolling around. The sphere was dotted throughout with tiny bubbles, like sparkles. And right in the center there was a small leaf. She gazed at it. This must be fossilized tree-sap; Doctor D had once told her about the substance. Whatever was trapped within it was frozen for thousands of years. To think, she could have once passed by the tree this leaf had come from, many years before. Somehow, looked at the relic saddened her.
Everything changes. Nothing can stay the same forever.
She almost yelped in surprise when the shrill ringing of a telephone echoed around the room. Glancing around, she spotted the bright blue phone attached to the doorframe and made her way over to it. After she had picked up the receiver, a terse voice on the other end told her to come to the launching runway. She hung up the phone again.
Fiona was determined, as she strode briskly down the hallway, not to think of this journey she was going on. At that moment she was singing quite loudly in her head.
"Wait, Miss Fiona! Hold up!" Startled she whirled around. It was Dale. He skidded to a halt next to her panting. He'd obviously run to catch up with her. She waited while he caught his breath. Suddenly he straightened and stared hard at her with glittering hazel eyes. He looked intense. "You're leaving now, aren't you?" Fiona nodded, but then she realized that he must already know this, being Raven's doctor. "Yes, and you're taking Raven with you, right? Of course you are. Sorry, I'm rambling. . ."
"Doctor Sharlen?" she prompted. Dale's wandering gaze snapped back to her eyes.
"Take care of him."
"Uh. . ."
"I don't know what it is," he continued, ignoring her. "But I saw something. Promise me you'll take care of him." He was regarding her so seriously that she gulped.
"Y-yes, of course I – "
"Good. Now hurry, you're leaving!" Dale grabbed her shoulder and began steering her towards the end of the corridor at an almost jog. "There are rules here about the hours in which Zoids can depart."
In no time they had reached the double doors. Bursting out of them, Fiona only had time for a frantic wave goodbye to the doctor standing at the entrance. She heard his shouted "Good luck!" and then was running. Halfway across the field she remembered, and paused. She cupped her hands and shouted "Zeke!" She waited only a second before a howling beam of light shot towards her and dissolved back into the organoid at her feet. "Let's go," she said breathlessly, then charged off again with Zeke in tow.
Half a minute later the pair came upon a white and grey Shield Liger, prepared for launch, a few hurried-looking staff and Captain Hayes beside it. She was aware of him shaking her hand and thanking her again, but her brain was still attempting to catch up with her. . She heard what he said next though. "Supplies and tools are in the underneath storage bins, and the prisoner has already been installed in the back seat." Raven. "There is nothing to worry about where he is concerned; this Shield Liger was designed to carry prisoners, and as such the back seat prevents sabotage and escape."
"Thank for your help Captain Hayes," she managed to get out. Now that she was on the brink of leaving she was excited and anxious to get going.
"No, we need to thank you for doing this for us. It means a great deal to everyone here." She nodded quickly, saluted, and turned to the Shield Liger. Hurrying up the ladder rungs of the front leg, she saw Zeke shoot upwards and alight on the back, ready. The cockpit was already open, and she only caught a glimpse of Raven in the back seat as she swung into the piloting chair. She would worry about him later. Hitting a switch, Fiona buckled her safety belt whilst the orange cockpit locked in with a click.
Here I come Van, she thought in a tumult of emotions. She engaged the Liger, delighting in the whirr of it come to life. She took hold of the control sticks, and thundered out of the gate at top speed.
xXx
It was set to be a lackluster sundown, with clouds shrouding the golden ball of Zi as it made its descent towards the horizon. Even Fiona, with all her strong-willed intentions to keep going for all hours to catch up with Thomas and Van, had to admit to herself that traveling in the dark was folly. She had slowed her initial breakneck pace to a steadier gait so that the Liger wasn't in danger of overheating. She was no technician, and a breakdown out here would be awful. There was no Thomas to rely on this time. She watched endless figures scroll across one of the control screens in front of her. He would know what they meant. He would embark on a long and detailed (and boring) account about what the figures indicated and how he could improve whatever it was tenfold without seeming to realize that nobody understood what he meant. Thomas seemed to be a different person when he was amongst technology. He regarded it all so seriously, without a hint of arrogance, and lost himself in what he was doing. Fiona couldn't help but regard that Thomas as the true Thomas, if there was such a thing. It just seemed more like him than the Thomas who was a lieutenant in the Imperial Army.
Grudgingly she pulled up the terrain map onscreen. It was time to look for a place to stay the night. She scaled forwards to a bottleneck in some canyon walls, which opened into a kind of valley. That would do. It was only about fifteen minutes from where they were.
They. With some degree of surprise she realized that she'd practically forgotten about Raven. She had been so focused on piloting the Zoid, and Raven himself hadn't made a sound. It was possible he'd died and she hadn't even noticed. The thought made her shudder. What kind of thinking was that? She wasn't usually this morbid. The urge to glance behind her was starting to gnaw at her, along with the idea that he really was dead and she'd find a corpse in the backseat, or that she'd look behind her and find nothing which would be even worse . . .
She mentally slapped herself. Stop it Fiona. You're being ridiculous. Just get to the valley, then you can peek all you want.
To her immense relief she spotted the opening in the canyon wall ahead of them. Luckily it was large enough to allow the Shield Liger through. Carefully steering the Zoid into the narrow rock corridor, she was able to see the space on the other side in the dying sunlight. It wasn't very big; only about five Zoids would have fit into the tiny valley, but it was large enough for just the Shield Liger and its occupants. She cosied up next to the entrance side-on, neatly enclosing the space. Finally she set about the disengaging process, shutting everything down to standby mode. It never hurt to be prepared. She unclipped the seat belt and just sat for a moment. Then she swiveled so that she was balancing on her knees, and peered over the top of her seat.
Someone had given Raven his old clothes back, so he looked as travel-worn as the night before. And now she understood what Captain Hayes had meant by the backseat being escape-proof. His arms were resting between his legs, where the handcuffs that encircled his wrists were chained tightly to the walls on both sides, effectively preventing sideways movement. His feet were locked against the chair by metal rings that came out from the base. Raven's head was hung low, but through the curtain of his hair she could see another ring gleaming dully around his neck. She watched him anxiously, and saw to her relief that he was indeed breathing. Looking back over her should she perused the controls until she spotted a button labeled 'Prisoner Release/Constraint'. She hesitated before pressing it. Should she just leave him here overnight instead?
Take care of him.
There was a swift series of clicks as the cuffs all disengaged and slid back into the seat. Fiona turned to look at Raven again. He'd raised his head just a bit, and though he wasn't looking at her she could see his dark eyes. His eyes made her uncomfortable. Quickly she hit the button to raise the cockpit. She put her foot on the rim of the cockpit, and hesitated again. "I'm. . . going to set up camp," she said quietly without looking at him, and then made her way down to the ground.
Zeke bounded down after her, offering a querying growl. She smiled and rubbed his nose. "Help me start a fire, buddy?" The organoid thumped his tail enthusiastically as she opened a compartment in the Liger's steel underbelly, which held their supplies. Both she and Zeke gathered an armload (or in the organoid's case, mouth load) of firewood and walked to the center of the small enclosure. They fussed about with flints and matches for a good while before they got a decent blaze going. Zeke snorted with delight when he found two old logs near the walls of the canyon, which he pushed and shoved and rolled over towards the fire to serve as makeshift seats. He then scurried over to Fiona, curious as to what she was doing.
Fiona was in the process of setting a large pot full of soup in the outer rim of embers when she heard some scuffles and the thud from behind her. She felt rather than heard Zeke rumble disturbingly next to her, and reached out to pat him on the flank. "Leave him for now. Be watchful but don't do anything," she whispered under her breath. There was a slight creak as Zeke nodded once, then he curled up next to the fire.
She busied herself with the stew, careful not to let on that she knew he was there. A few minutes passed in silence but for her cooking sounds, before she heard slow footsteps approaching. He didn't sound like he was attempting to sneak up on her, and this was reassuring somehow. Another tiny slice of time passed, and his cautious footsteps faltered, then stopped entirely. She tensed, but knowing that he'd halted a safe enough distance away to be out of attacking range, she convinced herself to relax. If she acted like someone expecting to be attacked it may well be viewed as an invitation to do so. So she continued stirring the soup. After a little bit she dipped a spoon in to test it. It tasted all right, she decided, licking the spoon clean. Not quite as good as Moonbay's famous campfire meals, but decent enough. Picking up two bowls, she ladled some soup into both, Finally she stood, balancing a bowl in each hand, and turned to her charge.
Raven was sitting on one of the logs that Zeke had dragged over, close to the edge further away from her. He'd wrapped his arms loosely under his chest, assuming a slightly slumped form similar to the one from the cockpit. It looked as though he was staring into the fire, but Fiona could see that his empty eyes saw nothing. She realized that she'd paused, and made her way over to where he sat. She held out a bowl.
"Here." Raven started and looked up at her with wide eyes. She continued to hold the bowl out, and slowly he reached up and took it from her. A bandage on his right hand coarsely brushed her skin. Feeling awkward Fiona retreated to the log on the other side of Raven and flopped down in the middle. She dedicated herself to eating her dinner.
Taking another mouthful, she attempted to arrange her scattering thoughts. You're far too tired, doing so much in one day. Learn to pace yourself. It was true, of course. The hectic events of last night, Van's letter, charging ahead in a Zoid for hours on end, and now the mystery of Raven. For he was a mystery to her, where to others he was an enemy, a prisoner, a bane. She looked across at him, still staring at the bowl in his hands with a blank face. He looked so wretched. What had happened to the insane child who delighted in violence and death? He, along with his health, has wasted away. It was almost as though he was no longer there. A lost soul. But did he ever have a soul to begin with?
People weren't born evil. Life made them that way. Raven had been a child once, with a child's ideals and innocence. She wondered at what point the innocence of Raven had been shattered. Prozen, she suspected, had a great deal to do with it. He'd never said it, but on the few occasions she had witnessed the two together, she'd felt a twisted mix of respect, contempt and obedience coming from the boy. And once, she'd fancied, a hint of fear.
Fiona had told Van about these 'premonitions' and feelings she received, and he had come up with the notion that Ancient Zoidians possessed extra-sensory abilities that today's people lacked. Indeed Reese seemed to be exceptional in that field. Fiona herself had only limited skills, but she endeavored to improve them. She was most successful in communicating with Zeke using her mind, thought it was rare that the two did so. Both of them had to 'open' themselves to the other, and usually one of the two wouldn't be willing at the time. And she felt that they both understood each other well enough without the complication of telepathy.
Her thoughts drifted back to Raven, in the end. It came to her, reluctantly, that she felt sorry for him. There was absolutely no reason for this to be so; everything in fact pointed towards the opposite conclusion. He was a murderer, a terrorist, a nightmare, wholly undeserving of life when he extinguished that of others without a care. No matter how different he appeared to be, he was still that person. And he had tried to kill Van. Had always tried to kill him, for no reason other than hatred. Be even with all this damning evidence against him. . . she couldn't help but feel a small bit of pity. She wasn't quite sure why. It was probably linked to his appearance, which was almost ghostly.
She glanced up again. Raven still hadn't touched his food. He was simply staring at the night sky. It was the look of someone who wanted to search for something, but did not know why they looked for. She turned away again. "You need to eat, you know. Or you'll get sick again. . ." she said, not really expecting an answer. Instead she started scraping the last of the soup together in her bowl for one last cold mouthful.
"It doesn't . . . fill the emptiness."
Fiona jumped at the quiet voice and spun to face Raven. He had resumed looking into his soup, except now he raised his spoon and began to eat. His voice had been hoarse and unsteady, as though he hadn't used it for months. She stared at him a while longer. Then she shook herself mentally, and started cleaning up.
Taking the used pot and her bowl and spoon to the Liger, she contemplated what Raven had said. Emptiness.She wondered, idly, if she should allow him the chance to find himself once more, even if it did mean the old nightmare returned. Anything had to be better than what he seemed to be living. For she suspected now, through observation and her odd abilities, that Raven had forgotten almost everything.
She would ask him. But not now. Fiona had the feeling he would not be willing to talk with a person for some time yet.
Shutting away the utensils, she opened another compartment and hauled out two sleeping bags. She dragged them over to a relatively flat spot a few metres from the fire. Warm or not, sleeping next to a fire wasn't the most clever of ideas. Fiona dropped her bag, and then took the other a few paces away before dropping it as well. There was no way she'd sleep next to him. Zeke yawned from his spot near the fire, and promptly unfurled himself to get up and make his way over to her. He nudged the small of her back with his snout, clearly indicating that she should sleep. She smiled at the organoid in the dark.
"Yes, yes, I'm going to." She looked over towards the fire again, and saw that Raven had been watching her. So, at least he knew where he'd be sleeping. Otherwise she had the notion he would have just keeled over on the log. The bowl in his hands was empty. "Just. . . leave the bowl there. I'll put it away in the morning," she said, and then turned back to her sleeping bag. Zeke was glancing curiously at her, obviously wondering what madness his companion had been infected with. "Don't look at me like that Zeke." He kept staring. "It's rude, you know." With a snort the organoid flopped down into the dirt and started snoring loudly. Sighing in amusement, Fiona unzipped the bag and kicked off her boots. Once she had wriggled into it, she finally did feel tired. But she didn't sleep instantly.
The moon had risen above the canyon walls before the other person in the valley went to his bed.
xXx
Against all possible odds, Fiona slept well that night. Only once did she wake, to see the darkened, sharp silhouette of Shadow watching them from above the valley. She went to sleep again almost immediately.
xXx
"Damn, they're everywhere!" Thomas shouted, jumping awkwardly to avoid a barrage of fire.
BEAC was flashing urgently all the enemies in range, and he could hardly make sense of it all. There were just far too many to handle alone. Command Wolfs, Gunsnipers and scatterings of other Zoid types literally covered the land in front of him. Cursing, he punched in the command for the Megalo-Max again. If he kept this up the gun barrels would overheat, and he'd be in real trouble then. The huge kickback from the attack slammed him back into his seat, temporarily blinded. He opened his eyes again, and was incredulous. He'd only taken out three of them!
"Van, this is getting serious!" he called to his ally, who was piloting the Blade Liger ferociously beside him. "There's too many. We need to call backup in from Redstone."
"No we don't!" came the harsh reply. "I can do this, it's not that hard. Have some faith."
"Have some sense! We're outnumbered a hundred to one. I know you're a good pilot, Van, but even heroes can die." Thomas was cut short by a rampaging Gunsniper, who fired directly at the Di Bison's leg. He narrowly averted disaster, and then gunned the Zoid down. But two more took its place.
This is insane. I can't win with these odds. BEAC shrilly warned of an attack from the rear, and he furiously wrestled the controls around. He was constantly aware that his ammo was being depleted, his shields were failing and there was moderate damage to the Di Bison's armor. He was being worn away, like a rock beneath the waves of the ocean.
Blasting another Command Wolf into oblivion, Thomas suddenly spotted the Blade Liger charging out of the battle. "Van!" he screamed in shock, before buckling under the onslaught of three Zoids firing together.
But Van kept going.
Fear consumed him then. He was alone. Alone on the battlefield, with no one to help him, and everyone to hurt him. They all wanted him dead. Even Van didn't care enough to stay with him.
There was a terrific shriek of splitting metal, and the Di Bison was hurled forwards. The cockpit shield was cracked, and hanging from his safety harness, Thomas could see the Gunsniper taking aim. Point blank. Dead center.
The blinding light and total black came at the same time.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Notes: That was a whopping 8,078 words. God DAMN! dies
Once again, all the medical mumbo-jumbo is completely fake. I have no PhD.
Dreams are no longer in italics. It would have interfered with the dreams I have planned for later in the story, which are bloody huge. Nobody wants pages full of italics.
I have changed BEEK's name to BEAC, because it actually makes more sense. BEAC stands for Bio-Electronic Analyzing Computer. See? Genius.
This is my Valentine's Day gift to you all. It's much more satisfying than a damned card, isn't it?
Don't even talk to me about the next chapter yet.
Vappa