Rain brushed dirt from his slacks from where he had hit the floor to avoid fire. Bullets zinged over his head and ripped up the foliage above him. Seemingly unconcerned about the amount of ammo that was being used in a effort to kill him, he waited for the near-silent hollow 'click' of guns running dry.
He moved then, as hands fumbled for fresh clips and mags. Too slow.
Leaping up, he swung an inactivated end of his staff around in a high arc, impacting on bone with a wet crack. Swinging the other half of his body over and up, he leapfrogged, swiveling his staff to the plasma end to part flesh from bone. He was rewarded with a sizzle of flesh burning and a screech of pain.
One had been quick enough to reload, and was just about to fire when Rain dove and rolled sideways, dodging ammo as it chattered from the gun. The cadet swept his legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then flipped the plasma blade around to draw a thin red line across his stomach. The guard howled in agony, right before Rain flashed up an axe kick that nearly snapped the man's head from his neck.
As he fell, Rain grabbed the dead man's hand and the still spastically twitching trigger finger, directing the stream of ammo at the others. They went down as if they had been cut, like trees.
The gun went dry as the remaining two guards, armed with plasma weapons both, let rip, and the blue slash of plasma fire tore the corpse Rain was using as an impromptu cover nearly in half. Rain hit the deck for the second time that day, watching silently as plasma bolts burned gaping holes in the tree just above him.
Then he was close enough to jump to his feet, grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck, hoisting his body up and over, his feet locking around the guard's waist as he twisted and flung him into the other.
The other man, probably being too triggerhappy, tensed his finger. The burst of plasma energy hit the thrown guard in midair, burning a hole the size of a fist through his body. The dead man flopped to ground zero, knocking over the other.
Rain paused, listening. It was too quiet...
Then some sort of small vehicle that looked like it had been cobbled together from an assortment of scrap material burst out of the foliage, engine whining noisily. The driver gunned the motor heavily, trying to run Rain down.
Rain rolled to one side as the odd machine steamed past, grabbing a branch and hauling himself up, away from the murderous driver. Hanging down, he desperately swung himself away as the man pulled out a gun.
Jumping from one tree to the next, Rain briefly flashed back on his balance exercises, ducking once as the tree behind him sprouted a few bullet holes. He then darted sideways, reaching for the branch that wasn't there...
Uh-oh.
Rain tumbled end over end, finally landing painfully on his backside.
The cadet cursed himself on his shoddy footwork, then froze as the barrel of a pistol nudged the back of his throat.
"...damn."
=14 =4745Y 3417Y
f i n a l f a n t a s y : r e a l i t y
FINAL FANTASY REALITY
by chaosrayne
original concept by redshadow
disk one: 5ive: calv4ry
Well well well. I guess I'm not up to scratch after all. Should have been paying more attention.
At least they haven't killed me yet. No, wait. There has to be torture, then examination, then more torture, and probably then I would be killed. Yeah. Standard hostage negotiations. How my instructors would love to see me now, down on my knees with a loaded gun aimed at my head.
I turned around slowly, hoping that the idiot didn't misinterpret it as an attack and fire. Luckily, he didn't.
He had a large scar down his cheek and he was grinning nastily. Real charming guy. He was also handling that gun as if he knew how to use it. Probably shouldn't try any last-minute desperation tactics, then.
He motioned me to walk, keeping the gun trained on me all the while. I crossed my hands behind my head and sighed, dropping my staff, energy blades off. I liked that weapon. Probably have to find a new one now.
I hoped Patch and Alex were alright. After all, they're the ones that want to save this world, right?
As I stumbled back into the scavenger camp, my wrists were tied behind my back. I was then picked up and shoved none too gently into a small dark cell that reminded me vaguely of a cadet issue room locker.
I lay there curled up into a tight ball, my head hitting the lid of the cell and my legs hitting the bottom. At least I had kept my pendant hidden away - they would probably had killed me for it if they had seen the flash of silver. Poor idiots.
Through a crack in the wall I observed the people, all with a small red diamond mark on their foreheads. They must be people that follow that Imperial Empire Patch was talking about.
I shuffled on my butt, trying to get a more comfortable position. In this I was not successful. There were people coming in every now and then with small sacks of food slung over their shoulders and the occasional odd bit of junk. Strange, overgrown dogs wandered the camp, growling to themselves, and barking at each other over territorial living space.
Then I noticed something strange.
My cell was near the perimeter of the camp, and at the edge of the small settlement I spotted movement.
Not so much movement as a slight shifting of shadows, but, yeah, movement.
My heart leaped. Was this Alex? I didn't know she took stealth courses in addition to track...
The shadow froze as if it knew I was watching.
Ah, to heck with it. I was probably just imagining things. I had failed in escaping capture, didn't I? Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I ignored it. Once, during a expedition training course (they dump you in the wild with nothing but a knife) I had broken my ribs, and had conditioned myself to eat only when necessary.
But still...
I filed the information away in my mind for further reference as the latch on the door to my cell clicked open. Two heavyset men dragged me out and forced me into a chair.
One of them was Scarface. As he had captured me, he would definitely have the pleasure of interrogating me, yes sirree.
He roughly brushed away my dark hair that had fallen over my forehead, and exclaimed. Of course - I didn't have one of their freaking diamond marks.
Scarface spoke up in a sour grumble. "This one is probably a rebel. There is no mark on his head."
Another woman, off to the side, complained. "He is too young for one. Probably hasn't even got the balls for it yet." I felt a momentary flash of anger. Try putting that stupid woman over the obstacle course back at the SFMA, and see if she had the balls.
"But he is dangerous." Scarface continued. "He killed seven men and put Jimmy in the ward."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Seven?"
I showed no sign that I had heard what they said, desperately trying to work loose my bonds while hoping not to attract too much attention.
Scarface walked up to me, thrusting his face in mine. "You are a rebel, are you not? We get money for turning one of you in to the Empire, yes we do. You foolish boy."
I worked up what little moisture was left in my throat and mouth and spat at him. He wiped his face with his sleeve and hit me in the face, hard. My head pounded with the dizzying pain.
My head lolled around uselessly as I willed my eyeballs into focus. I heard laughing from the woman. "He's got spunk, alright."
Scarface backhanded the woman with a vicious slap to the face that shut her up. "Do NOT annoy me, woman. I have enough on my hands as it is. Make sure the boy is fed, and lock him in his cubicle. We'll see if he is more willing to talk later."
I winced, seeing the hot burn of anger on the woman's face. Scarface was such an idiot. Didn't he know that women were capable of making men's lives living hell?
To my surprise, the woman bowed and walked out, followed by Scarface a while later. My stomach grumbled angrily at the mention of food, but as I forced it to calm down I felt a new pain - pity for the people of this world.
I hoped again that Alex and Patch had better luck than I did.
Patch noted the size of the vehicle as they got closer. It was large - clearly big enough to hold at least two Chaos Mechs in complete battle armor.
It, for lack of a better word, was a tank.
But the word 'tank' hardly did it justice. It was so large that a small scavenger's hut had actually been built using one side of the vehicle as a wall. The O7 trooper felt a small amount of remorse at demolishing the poor fool's home.
Getting up to the side of it, the trooper noted the red diamond on the side of the vehicle. It was a good choice - using this, they would be able to travel with relative immunity. The model number was also visible: DA00001A-P/T.
P/T. Prototype.
Must be a relatively new model, then.
Alex noted the intricate heavy door. "They must have not been able to get inside." She said, gesturing to the scavenger camp.
Patch nodded. "It's high tech stuff. Without the access codes you'd need a computer to get in, and hardly anyone has those anymore. I wonder what happened to the original crew, though?"
"So how do we get inside, then?" Alex muttered, inspecting her new plasma pistol.
"I did say hardly anyone has a computer anymore." Patch grinned, taking out the handheld data unit he had stolen from the O7 tech room before his and Kira's ill-fated mission.
"...Oh."
Alex watched as Patch fed a cable to the lock mechanism, using his laser cutting torch to expose the wires underneath the thick tank plating. A few taps on the miniature keyboard, and...
And...
Alex bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet, sparring with an imaginary enemy as she heard the sharp rap of gunfire from the other side of the camp. "Hurry up!! Rain's probably getting himself killed out there!"
"Just a few more seconds...." Patch mumbled to himself as he worked frantically. "Yes! I'm in. Okay... type in the access override code : 1 - 2 - 3 - 6 - 2 - 8 - 0 - 1..."
Alex moved to comply, punching in the numbers at the code panel.
They both watched as the hatch popped open with a slight shifting of mechanisms, and slowly retracted.
It didn't as much retract as seem to vanish silently into the walls. Patch scrambled to his feet, yanking the jack cable out of the keycode system. Alex stood in awe of the forces that could shift that much mass with so much ease.
A smooth, modulated male voice spoke as Alex stepped into the 'tank', seeing dull grey metal plated walls and hard steel floors. "Welcome to Mobilised Artillery Attack System DA00001A. Welcome aboard."
Patch hesitantly walked inside the war machine, seeing a digital schematic of the insides of the tank laid out on a screen. "I guess the Imperials recovered more of the Ancient technology than they let on."
"Yeah!" Alex gestured to the tank schematic map. "I mean, it's got a bridge, main computer core, gunnery ports... living quarters, common room, kitchen....?"
"I am Durandal. The facilities of this system are open to usage." The calming voice of the computer spoke from the speakers in the roof.
"The bridge's that way." Alex pointed down one of the cramped corridors, looking at Patch.
There was a pause, then both Alex and Patch moved as one, trying to get to the control room.
"I'm driving!"
"No WAY!!! Whose idea was it to steal this thing anyway?"
"Actually, it was Rain's, but..."
With much pushing and shoving, Patch used his superior body weight to block the smaller girl from getting through the cramped corridor. As the corridor widened, Patch scrambled into a small room with familiar controls - steering. Swinging himself into the leather seat, he smiled and laid his hands on the wheel.
Alex arrived just a second too late, and took her seat in front of a comm console. "Drat. Beat me to it."
Patch grinned. "Um... Durandal, is it?"
The male voice from the computer was there, calming even at the most tense of moments. "Yes?"
"Can we have... like, visual contact with the outside?"
In response, the large screen on the front of the bridge sprang to life. "Outside sensors are fully functional. Engine at 80% and increasing. You are ready for manual control."
Alex tapped a finger thoughtfully on her chin, leaning back on her chair to get comfortable against the cramped area. "Weapons systems?"
A joystick rose up in front of her and a targeting reticule appeared on the overall screen. "Select the offensive weapon you want to use onscreen." Durandal spoke. "I am equipped with a main heavy bore shell cannon, four all-purpose attack missile ports, and gunnery ports are armed with GAUSS-24 pulse cannons."
"Sweet." Alex mumbled.
Patch fought down the overwhelming urge to ram the throttle and see how far and fast this thing would go, but he knew he had a job to do. "Let's do this."
Someone entering drew my attention. It was the woman from earlier, holding some sort of bread and a glass of some liquid that smelled strongly of paint thinner.
"Sorry about this." She mumbled, the red mark on her face testimony to earlier violence. "It's horrible the way we treat children. You'd think the Empire is encouraging people to train their kids all to be killers."
I force myself to pay attention, my wrists searing agony from having been rubbed bloody in an effort to escape the rough rope.
"You know you'll have to feed me, unless you want to risk cutting my bonds."
She withdraws a small knife and cuts the ropes, hardly sparing a glance for the blood on my hands. As my vision is now cleared, I can now see her face. Square jawed, with large jowls. But in her eyes there is the look of motherly affection I remember from Madame Tessaline....
My mind drifts, back to a time long ago...
"Rain. You know I love you as a son."
"But I CAN'T stop looking for my parents! I need a FAMILY-"
"This is your family. The others - they need you. They are your friends. I need you."
My mentality snaps back to the present as the woman presses the glass into my hands. "Drink. Tastes awful, but it helps with the pain." I do so, and grimace. She is right, but as the throbbing fades, I nearly think it would not be worth it.
I grab the loaf, nearly breaking my teeth on the toughness, but chewing forcefully anyway. After all, it is food. I give in to the hunger in my stomach, choking down the last of the bread until it is no more.
She smiles. "I keep telling him that interrogation is no honest man's business, but he never listens..."
I notice she is referring to Scarface, and down the rest of the glass, wincing at the unaccustomed, bitter taste.
The woman takes the glass from my hands, and moves to bind my hands again. I struggle feebly, but she is insistent. Holding the length of rope now crusty with my dried blood, she gets ready to tighten the knot...
An explosion is heard from outside.
I feel a vague sense of deja vu, as the sharp rat-tat-tat of rifle fire and the low humming of plasma rounds being fired rings through the camp. I hear dogs barking, and occasional screams.
The woman, distracted, walks to the end of the street corner and gasps.
She runs.
Seeing my captors now evidently otherwise occupied, I wrench my hands free with a scream, bathing my bloodied hands in a tub of water nearby.
I see fire in the reflection of the water surface, and glance up.
The vehicle I had tagged as an alternative form of transportation steamrolls past, flattening scavenger huts and causing general havoc. The big main cannon atop the turret fires once, and a nearby buildings shake.
It is a tank.
I shade my eyes from the sun outside, hoping against hope that it was not the scavengers that were in it.
My fears are dispelled when the tank stops at the corner, and a large hatch swings open. Alex's grinning blonde hair appears at the entry hole. "Like a ride?"
"Would I ever." I mumble. I drag myself through, feeling light-headed from the effects of the painkiller drink. "Get us out of here..."
Then my mind fades to blackness, as I realise the truth.
That drink was drugged...!
Alex supported an unconsious Rain, yelling in the direction of the nearest speaker. "Durandal, get us the heck out of here!!!"
"Complying. Not to worry you, Alex, but my scanner has picked up the laser tracking signal of a targeting system."
Patch grumbled something about rocket launchers, and Alex understood. "Laser-guided rockets?" She dumped Rain's unconsious body unceremoniously on the bridge floor and retook the weapons console. "You got a location for me?"
Two small targeting circles appeared in the top left of the main tactical screen, showing two scavengers, one with a scar on his cheek, hiding behind a flimsy metal sheet riddled with bullet holes.
Patch grinned. "Alex, give them a rocket of their own."
Alex nodded. "On it. Durandal, Tube two, fire!"
The Stinger missile screamed from the launch tube, slamming into the lock-on area, sending the targets straight up.
"Target destruction confirmed." Durandal spoke.
"Yeah... Let's go. We've done enough damage."
This was true enough, as the Mobilised Artillery Attack System DA00001A rolled away from the scavenger settlement, the scavengers themselves not even bothering to give chase. The scavenger town lay in ruins, Durandal having simply crushed any small structure in the way.
Even so, Patch did not slow the vehicle down until they had put at least ten miles between them and the settlement.
...A triangle within a circle...
As I watched, it spun around to create an orb of pure silver.
It glowed brightly, so bright it hurt to watch. As it spun, I reached out my hand for it. It was so close... so close...
As my fingers closed around the pendant, the blackness receded and I awoke.
Light was the first thing I was aware of. Blinding light, staring me in the eye.
Then I realised I was on some sort of examination table, with the surgery light held right in my face.
"Is he okay?" A voice that I recognised as Alex's spoke. Too loud, way too loud. Everything in my head hurt.
"He will live." Another voice spoke, that I did not know. "His responses are sluggish, and his electrolyte balance is too low. He has, to put it in simple terms, been drugged."
"He's a tough kid." A low rumbling voice said. Probably Patch. Still too loud - every syllable I heard hurt. "He will survive."
"Look, he's awake!" Alex squealed. This felt weirdly like advanced biology in SFMA, except I now felt like the poor animal that was being dissected.
"Drink." The smooth male voice spoke, as a small metal tube poked into my mouth. I took it gratefully, as sugared iced tea cascaded down my throat. I didn't say anything, just reveled in the feel of drinking. My throat felt way too dry.
After a while the liquid flow in the tube stopped and it retracted. I blinked and sat up.
Then my senses were overwhelmed by the feel of a warm, soft body pressing close to mine.
Alex hugged me. "Thank god you're okay!!! I was worried!"
I paused, not sure what to say.
Then I noticed why it felt sort of breezy. I was mother-naked from the waist up, to show the nice collection of bruises I had accumulated during my capture. It kind of stung to have them touched, though.
A warm feeling welled up inside me. So this is what it feels like to be wanted.
Then Patch whacked me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me down again. "Well done. We got the vehicle. He's called Durandal. Say hi."
"What?" I mumbled as Alex disenengaged from me and handed me my shirt, freshly cleaned.
"Hello. I am Durandal, Mobilised Artillery Attack System Prototype DA00001A - the first of my kind." The small speaker grille in the wall spoke, with some small hint of pride.
"It's a voice-activated computer." Patch murmured, as if to keep a long story short. "It controls one hell of a tank, though. The Imperials must have recovered more Ancient technology that we thought." His face clouded as he thought of the Imperial Army making an entire attack division of Durandals.
"Busted hell out of the settlement, though." I dressed, the clean material sliding over tender bruises. "I can remember that much."
Alex smiled widely. "Obviously, much better than walking."
I nodded. "Where am I?"
"In Durandal." Patch growled. "Evidently it's bigger than we thought."
"It has a kitchen and a living room, too!!!" Alex laughed.
"What happened to the original Imperial crew?" I voiced a thought, trying to ignore the pounding in my head, which was by now getting painfully familiar.
All eyes turned to the speaker grille and the small sensor 'eye' next to it.
No answer.
"Durandal?" Alex asked.
"There's something he's not telling us." I muttered. "Alex, you take Psychology back at the academy, don't you? How do you not know that this computer isn't going to drive us back to the nearest Imperial base and drop us off?"
Alex sniffed.
Patch's hand moved towards his waist, where he kept his Desert Eagle. "...yeah..."
"The computer core's this way." Alex mumbled, still not willing to believe that Durandal could be a traitor.
"Come on. Look at it this way - he's an Imperial machine. What's not to say he believes in Imperial laws?" I reasoned.
Then the smooth voice of Durandal spoke up, now clearly distressed. "You... you could go to the computer core and see for yourself."
Patch grunted, flipping his revolver from its holster. "Why should we trust you?"
Durandal spoke again, rather coldly this time. "I helped you three out of the scavenger camp. I think one good turn deserves another."
I sighed as a sullen Alex led the way.
Alex sniffed, hurt.
She was a cadet just as well as Rain - why did he have to be the better one?
Plus, what hurt was the fact that he was probably right. As much as Alex had liked the machine, Durandal was of Imperial make - the same Imperials that had mercilessly decimated an entire small camp of rebels with brute force.
As the door to Durandal's core swung open, Alex gasped, shortly followed by Rain, who's jaw fell open, and Patch, whose hands tightened inside his gloves.
In the small cramped space, the hardware of Durandal was exposed to their eyes. It was not the sophistication of the hardware, or even the way it worked that surprised them. In fact, above all the wires and humming stacks of computer memory, it was what it was all linked to that afforded the most attention.
In a small cylindrical tank of nutrient fluid a brain floated, connected to the many wires that led to all the computer ware around the area. Humming coolant fans kept the temperature constant.
The speaker grille in the small cramped space came to life. "Now you know what I am."
Patch shifted his body so he could see the print on the side of the cylinder, and then placed his head in his hands. The print was easily visible:
HUMAN SUBJECT DAVID J SKYE
NUMBER 20319A
PROJECT BLUESHIFT
PROPERTY OF IMPERIAL EMPIRE
NEOTOKYO
"P...project Blueshift." Patch's gruff voice shook with emotion.
"What?" Alex said after her own brain rumbled into gear.
"Project Blueshift." The voice of Durandal spoke. "That was the codename of the project that was debatably the cause of the Five-Minute War. The development of medical technology involving the actual transfer of human conciousness for applications in health."
"It seems in this case they used it for A.I." Rain stared dully. "Is that what you are?"
"I am not strictly artificial intelligence, Rain." The voice of Durandal spoke. I am biological, just like every one of you. My true name is David Skye, formerly a young trooper in the Imperial Empire."
Patch sat down heavily.
"They needed a way to improve industrial capacity in military supercomputers cadged from Ancient technology." Durandal went on. "As not enough data processing chips were left after the end of the Five-Minute War, the Imperial scientists thought they could use human brains to improve the rudimentary storage capacity of their own central processing units."
"As the system needed young brain cells to develop its own growth potential, youths were chosen. I was the first. Young, inexperienced, and worth basically nothing to the Empire as a whole, the scientists drugged me, killed me, and then transferred my conciousness into this machine."
The voice of Durandal held barely concealed contempt for what he was.
"Do any of you know what it would be like? Waking up to find yourself in another body?" Durandal was showing anger now. "I hated it. But I had one large advantage - the Imperial scientists did not know I had become self-aware. They treated me just like another one of their precious computer components."
"When the prototype of Mobilised Artillery Attack System DA00001A rolled off the test assembly line, I found myself in a new, powerful body. But DA00001A was designed to be manned, although I could control all its functions. The crew of four Imperial troopers had their fun - they used me to destroy rebel Chaos Mecha units. I hated what the Imperials had done - what they had done to me, and for that, I wanted revenge."
Rain tapped his chin thoughtfully. Alex began to pity this poor creature, no, human, for what the Imperial Empire had done to him. The hatred was there, and had begun to grow.
Durandal continued with his painful story. Patch was clearly affected - his anger worked up to a fever pitch as Durandal continued.
"I waited until all four of the crew members left me to party at one of the nearby towns, and then I left, swearing vengeance on the entire Imperial Army. For weeks, I drifted aimlessly, lost. Then I remembered tales of the rebels. Surely they would take me in and welcome me." The voice grew sad. "But then my sensors detected a massive ion wave from the origin of the Rebel O7 forces."
Patch slammed a fist down on the nearest bulkhead, denting it slightly. "All of us died in that ion blast."
"The O7 Rebels are... destroyed?" Durandal's voice held a trace of disbelief. "I did not know for certain. I could not approach the area, as the residual ion radiation would fry my sensors."
"The rebels are no more." Patch said. "We are all that is left."
My heart went out to Durandal.
I knew what it was like to not be accepted. I knew what it was like to have the world against you. I knew his pain.
The proof was all there. Durandal, even for a machine, sounded too human. He was, after all.
Once more, I remembered the O7, that small band of rebels that fought valiantly against the larger foe. My own anger at the Imperial Empire grew, and with it, the desire to just return home and leave this world grew slightly less.
My eyes met Alex's. Using humans as information storage systems...! The message in her glare was only too obvious. Some day, someone will pay dearly for this.
Durandal spoke up. "I saw you hijack me, and guessed that you were not Imperials. I was right in that respect, as you commandeered me to decimate a small Imperial scavenger settlement."
"So, what. You're going to help us?" Alex said, slowly beginning to trust Durandal again.
"Yes. I want revenge on the monsters that did this to me. After that, I may rest easy. To put it as my human side would say, Lieutenant Patch, I'm yours to command until the Imperial Empire is neck deep in shit and sinking." Durandal answered, the voice sounding much more friendly. "I will help you in any way I can."
Patch cracked his knuckles. "Well, get ready, kids. We have a long way to go."
Alex and I followed him back to the bridge, sealing Durandal's core room door. I put a hand on Alex's shoulder for a moment, but she was in no mood to talk.
"Hey, Alex, wait-"
"Still want to go home now?" She sneered. "You don't care about anyone but yourself. How selfish."
"Look - "
She interrupted. "You know what they did to him. That is inhuman. It is just wrong."
"I know. I pity him, but face the facts, Alex! We don't belong here! This isn't our world. Not our problems! Not our time to interfere! We go home and sort out our own problems!"
She glared at me. "How can you be so cold!"
And with that, she was gone.
I walked into the bridge, glumly viewing the main screen display, watching Patch drive Durandal across miles and miles of desert. Getting bored, I made my way to the crew quarters.
Alex's backpack was on the upper bunk of the two small bunk beds in the quarters. The gatling gun was on the lower bunk of the other. Sighing, I took the bunk below Alex's.
Lying down, I was in troubled dreams and about to doze off when I noticed the small speaker grille next to the bed.
"Dave?" I mumbled.
There was a pause.
Then there was a small voice emanating from the speaker. "It's... been a long time since anyone's called me that."
"...Would you prefer Durandal?" I murmured, slightly peeved.
"No, it's fine." The computer/human answered.
"Well, Dave... what were you like? Before all this, I mean. Before your... transfer."
There was another pause. "Well, Rain, I can only say... I was much like you in some ways. I played the game of life solely for myself, trying to know my role and constantly fit into the pattern..."
I sighed. "But... isn't that what we're supposed to do? Go along with life, no hitches, nothing causing problems for people that run life..."
Durandal spoke clearly and firmly. "Let me put it to you this way. When the Imperials took over the Earthbreaker Army, I kept my silence. I was not one of the Earthbreakers. When they took over the businesses, I kept my silence. I was not a businessman. When they took over the schools, I kept my peace. I was not a student. When they came for the government, I kept my silence. I was not one of them. When they came for the Rebels, I kept my silence. I was not a Rebel."
I rolled over in bed, now facing the speaker grille. "What then?"
"When the Imperials came for me, there was nobody left to resist."
I sighed heavily. "Dave... you don't know me. I'm... not from around here."
"No joking." The computer/human said.
"Look, I'm not from this world. Neither Alex or I are from here. We came here through some sort of magical mixup."
"... a Remove spell?"
"Yes." I said, glad that someone was finally here that knew what was happening. "Apparently it was one-use only. Now I have to reactivate something called a Reality Engine so I can go home." I continued, angry with the injustice of the universe. "I would take Alex with me, but she's been eager to show off her academy prowess beating up Imperials. Plus, she has a strong sense of right and wrong, and apparently she will not tolerate wrong, in this reality or her own."
Durandal kept his peace until I had calmed down somewhat. Then he replied, in a calm, even tone that I found soothing, despite the gravity of the situation. "...Don't you think that this could happen to your own reality?"
I didn't answer. Ignoring the computer, I closed my eyes.
Alex lounged on the sofa in the main common lounge - the largest room in Durandal, and also the most luxurious, showing off a carpet, TV/multientertainment system, and half-decent furniture.
The SFMA blonde, for lack of a better word, was bored.
Bored bored bored.
She screwed up her eyebrows in concentration as she thought of something she could do to end the tediousness of the journey. Patch got to drive, so what could she do?
Eyeing the small speaker grille above the TV, Alex smiled briefly. "Durandal?"
"Yes?"
"Can you receive any, like, TV signals?"
"No, as the broadcasts made from short-range Imperial stations are all of a wavelength that I cannot detect now."
"That's pointless..." Alex muttered.
"Not really." Durandal answered. "We have a wide range of DVD's that survived the Five Minute War. Not much else did."
"...DVD's?" Alex perked up. "This could be interesting..."
Meanwhile, Patch was grinning widely as he manuevered the big vehicle around. It felt good to be in control of something this powerful, alright. The only other experience that had rivalled this was piloting a Chaos Mecha.
But although DA-000001A lacked the grace of one of the Chaos Mechs, it more than compensated with sheer power. The combustion engine sent a low rumble through the entire framework as it pushed the bulk of the machine forward. A machine that had a combustion engine left over from the past nuclear war was a rare thing indeed. Most Imperial machines now used mana generators, after all. Cleaner, but according to the long printouts that the Magic Guild churned out on a weekly basis, more dangerous.
He relaxed, thinking. It had been a long time since he had driven a machine with a true combustion engine. The last time had been a routine O7 supply run - a cargo truck that had been victim to the Imperial Rocket division. That one had been a real snarl... only the arrival of a pair of Chaos Mecha had allowed him to escape unscathed.
And Kira, of course....
His thoughts drifted back to the girl he had been thinking of for a long time. Where had she gone? According to the Reality Engine's core computer... someplace called Hades... He didn't like the name. And he didn't like the thought of his partner in crime/war liquified and piped through a magical hole in space-time.
He shook his head. Why had he been thinking about her so much, anyways? It's not like he cared...
Well, he did. Kira was more than a friend to him... wasn't she? That's why Patch himself was trying to get her back from the Reality Engine. She was a magical powerhouse, and also a skilled fighter - if anybody in the O7 was indispensable, it was her.
But the O7 were gone...
That was why it was crucial that Rain allowed him to use the Key. He had to get Kira back.
Not just for himself, but for the future of this world. Of this reality.
The thought deflated his happy mood, and he gripped the steering system tightly. Would Rain be at all willing to help them? Would he? The kid had shown himself as a more than adequate fighter, and a smart thinker. Patch wouldn't blame him at all for not wanting any part of this. After all, what was left of the world was bad enough after the Five-Minute War.
Patch drove on late into the night before calling a halt.
I woke to silence. Evidently we had stopped sometime ago, as the slightly audible hum of the powerful engine had now fallen silent. My watch had stopped working, but from my natural time-sense I guessed that it was about nightfall.
I got up, purposefully avoiding looking at the speaker grille next to my bed, and got dressed, running a hand through my own hair in a attempt to smooth it back into position.
I briefly entertained the thought of meeting up with Alex, but then I remembered she was most likely still pissed off at me. Well, I was hungry, anyway. And she would probably be there.
Going over my mental map of Durandal one more time, I managed to blunder on the kitchen, where (wouldn't you know it?) Alex was, making toast.
Silently cursing my luck, I forced myself to sit down next to her as she munched. I probably had to apologise - it would be the nice thing to do anyway, and I didn't relish the thought of having the only other person that knew about our home reality hate my guts.
I opened my mouth -
-and she interrupted, nearly snarfing a mouthful of toast. "If you're here to say you're sorry, now is not the time."
"Why?" I asked, lamely.
She gestured at the small stack of toast. "I'm hungry."
I kicked myself mentally. "...Um, well... I'm going to say it anyway."
"Go ahead." She said, starting on a fresh piece of toast. "Get it over with."
"..." I started.
"Come on! It can't be that hard..." Alex teased mirthlessly.
"Well... I... I'm sorry for being such an asshole. What they did to Dave was wrong, and we both know it."
She nodded, which I took as a sign to continue. "But I am not going to have any part in this world going to hell in a wastebasket. It's over. This place is hopeless and you know it."
Alex continued chewing her toast.
I was on a roll, though, and showed no signs of stopping. "I just want to go home. I've realised that this isn't just a friggin' dream, but just another failed reality. Emphasis on failed." I considered stopping, but now I was in over my head - I just had to speak the thoughts I had been keeping bottled up for ages.
It was all bursting out.
"This isn't our world. They don't need us here. They don't want us here. This world wants me dead. Just a few hours ago I was held hostage and beaten up. Would that have happened back home? You tell me." I couldn't stop myself. "Look at Patch. The Rebels are his life. Now they're gone. You saw how he lost it. This isn't our world. Let him sort it out."
The resounding sharp CRACK hit me at just about the same time the slap did.
Alex stood, plate empty, cheeks burning, eyes aflame with fury, hand raised.
I paused, feeling the red mark on my face.
She dropped her plate in the disposal, and left.
Dammit.
I felt even more like shit now than before.
I needed a think.
Then I looked up at the small speaker grille set high into the wall and the small electronic 'eye' next to it. I cursed. Damn you, Durandal.
Losing my patience, I keyed the ceiling hatch and climbed out.
I was right; it was dark outside. The sky shone with thousands upon thousands of stars, shining with varying degrees of brilliance. Durandal had pulled to a halt in the middle of a small glade, allowing me to see a clear sky unblemished by clouds.
Lying down on the cool outer armor of the tank, I looked up at the sky. It was kind of painful to remind myself that this place was not our Earth, as many of the constellations were similar to the ones from our own reality.
The classic Tri-Star, for example, stood shining in its odd trio of stars, as well as the long body of the Great Dragon stretching across the sky. For some reason the sky calmed me somewhat.
For a fleeting second I was reminded of my dreams of the universe and the stars beyond. I lifted the shape of my pendant up to the dark sky, and it shone dully, despite there being no light to reflect off it to speak of.
The triangle within a circle...
My mind drifted.
I was depressed, to say the least. Why would I be concerned about Alex's feelings towards me?
That would mean... that I cared about her.
Well, that was true enough... but what worried me was how in the hell it had happened. Back home, I had always been the loner. Nobody cared about me and I didn't care about anybody.
But here... Alex had cared about me. She had been worried when I had been captured. She had looked distressed when I had been nearly killed by Renaku. She had cared.
My mind flashed back to the hug she had given me. The only person I knew that had given me a hug was Madame Tessaline, and even so, that was more of a 'motherly affection' hug. She was also mother to about 40 other children, so that really didn't count.
But Alex...
My mind panicked with the thought of having a girlfriend. Like all those people back at the SFMA that spent loads of money on each other. I didn't have much money to spend, anyways.
I was so tired.
Slowly, I drifted off, my mind troubled by thoughts of girlfriends, purple stars, and hugs.
Nearby, a shadow watched, eyes glowing ice-blue.
The shadow stood, motionless, invisible to nearly all other eyes.
It looked at the slumbering form of the teenager for minutes more before vanishing into the darkness, unseen and unheard.