Hey! bestknight32 here! We're finally going to reach Rhodes Island after this chapter! Im both excited and scared I hope it goes well! Thanks everyone for coming this far! I also like to thank dahlingg for starting the base of this story and Tim Baril for writing this chapter you two are the best! Alright thats all until next time! "To next chapter or not To next chapter that is the question."
The ruined city had grown around quiet them. It was such a dramatic change after they had been pursued so tenaciously by Reunion and endured the chaos of the meteor strike. Death and destruction had hounded every footstep, and the hours of both fight and flight had left everyone beleaguered and worn.
And grieving for their lost comrades.
Plodding along now through empty streets pockmarked with decay and damage, they slowly made their way to the extraction site, progress that was now easy enough without anyone trying to stand in their way. But each member of Rhodes Island seemed lost in a bevy of anger and loss, futility and heartache.
Steward seemed to be taking the deaths of Ace and the others the hardest. His normally handsome face scowled and his eyes were red rimmed. Any attempt to engage him in conversation was met only with sullen despair.
Amiya, too, wiped red eyes that all-too-frequently overflowed with tears and she stumbled now and then as she walked.
This seemed to contrast with Melantha's stoic gruffness, yet the latter was no doubt only trying to cover her wounded emotions with a layer of toughness. Unlike Steward and Amiya, whose grief had made them draw inward and lose sight of their surroundings as they journeyed, Melantha continued to be wary, fixating on every shadow as if she wanted more enemies to pop out so that they might feel the bite of her blade.
While the others all bore signs of what they were dealing with and wearily trudged with varying degrees of watchfulness, Hayden found himself conflicted in a different way.
He was upset at the presumed deaths of their allies, but not in the same way that the others were experiencing. And this, in itself, was a sense of deep frustration. With the complete loss of his memories came the loss of his past and his identity—and his relationships.
He'd put his trust in these people when he'd woken because they'd seemed, at first glance, decent people. His instincts had only conveyed more of that sentiment over the course of their time together. And yet, he didn't really know anyone despite the shared history he'd been informed of. So he wondered if he should be more torn up about the deaths of comrades than he was, which was only in a general sense that would come with anyone's demise.
Or did his lack of feeling on the matter mean that he was a less empathetic sort of person? Was he cold hearted? A sociopath? Not knowing who he truly was, or had been, he feared the idea. Yet he also felt rather unsettled by the fact that these people had died rescuing him, and that left a guilt that he didn't want on his conscience.
The more he saw of this cruel world, of these desperate people, the more questions he had and the more urgent those grew. Who were these people to him? What were they really fighting for and had this been his fight too? Did he want it to be his fight in the future? Because, most of all, who was he?
He stared up at broken buildings on either side of the street, the pavement on which they walked home to desiccated cars and strewn with debris. He had woken in an ugly world. A very violent world. What could have happened for it to come to such a horrid state?
The others had told him that they knew him, that his life was intertwined with theirs, hence the rescue and the feelings for him that he'd seen in some of them, like gentle Amiya. He'd taken so much on trust so far, but was association with them wise? Was he only putting himself in needless danger? He felt something of a bond after the day's battles and their mutual struggle for survival. Yet was this a life he wanted to continue?
He was so confused. What was he supposed to do now? Try to reclaim something of this violent and painful life that he was told had been his? Or had he essentially been reborn with the opportunity to choose a new path? Because whoever he'd once been was now seemingly gone. There was only the new Hayden. The one born today.
"The edge of the city," Amiya pointed out to him.
He followed her raised arm and saw that the urban buildings around them appeared to come to an oddly uniform halt a few hundred meters away, rather than fade into the endless suburbs he somehow thought to expect. Several people stood between an apartment building and a tall store that gated the street in front of them. Beyond that was nature: grass and trees.
A slight smile came to Melantha's lips, the first in a long time. Perhaps the first all day. "Looks like Scout and the others got here ahead of us."
Steward's head lifted sharply, eyes filled with hope. Indeed, the mood of the entire party rose and more smiles emerged.
Hayden recalled that another group had been separate from them, providing a diversion. This must be that group. He wondered if he'd remember anyone, though he bitterly doubted he would. Losing one's memories was incredibly frustrating.
"Hey, that's not our people," Adnachiel warned.
Hands gripped weapons and they slowed to a wary walk. The figures ahead didn't appear threatening, but they'd had enough nasty surprises already and nobody wished for another.
He looked around and saw just how tired and beat up everyone was. If another fight lay ahead, could they even survive it? Or would more fall?
"They're Sarkaz mercs," Amiya identified as their group came closer.
The mercenaries were very large and very well-muscled shock troops in heavy, black gear. Helmets with masks obscured their faces. They stood casually, betraying no sense of worry or fear. Large guns rested on shoulders or hung in their hands, ready for use.
A small, thin woman in a dark shirt and a skirt over black leggings seemed to lead them. Though not old, her hair was ash gray, except for four crimson streaks which might have been antenna or horns or just hair dye; he was too far away to tell. Her body was overloaded with military gear like ammo pouches and hand grenades, and two weapons were slung over her shoulders: a machine gun and a grenade launcher. She looked ready for war and quite capable of dishing out damage.
Hayden feared yet more conflict was about to be unleashed upon them, and that they were ill prepared to receive it this time.
"Who is that?" Amiya whispered.
Melantha just shrugged as they walked, but didn't take her eyes off the woman as the other stepped forwards to greet them.
A sly smile graced the ashen-haired woman's thin lips. Then her expression morphed into one of mild surprise. "The doctor? I'd assumed you were dead."
Amiya, her face tense and her hands twitching in readiness, growled. "Who are you? And why are you here?"
The Sarkaz leader turned an annoyed look on Amiya before surprise once again stole over her features. "Well well. Look who it is." Her eyes roamed up and down the young woman's body. "My, how grown up you look now, Amiya."
It was Amiya's turn to look shocked. "How do you know me?"
But the woman turned her eyes back on Hayden and ignored the consternation on Amiya's face. She reached into her belt and pulled forth an object, heartlessly tossing it at the group's feet. It landed with a wet slap on the asphalt, a folded piece of paper drenched in red.
Hayden heard gasps and took an extra second to realize why. The Rhodes Island logo was just visible on the one corner as yet untouched by blood.
The woman eyed them like prey, slightly contemptuous, entirely in control. "We found a bunch of rats scurrying about in the city and exterminated them. Turns out they were your rats."
Steward paled and shook. Amiya involuntarily cried out. Melantha half drew her sword. Only Adnachiel kept his composure, studying the group in front of them, while Cardigan and Ansel frowned but stayed silent.
The Sarkaz leader spoke in a mocking tone. "Come! You want revenge, don't you? Throw yourselves at us. We're happy to put a few more vermin down."
The other mercs turned slightly, bodies facing Rhodes Island.
"Well," she continued, "not the doctor. You can live for a while longer. I think I have questions for you."
Hayden was physically and mentally frayed. His control snapped and he frowned at her. "More threats? Really? You and everyone else in this hellish city apparently." His voice rose in anger. "Does no one around here have any decency? Why is every fool and their dog out to slaughter each other for no reason?" He realized he was shouting and cut himself off.
She smirked. "Don't worry. I won't slaughter you. If you answer my questions."
"I can't tell you anything! I don't even know who you are!"
She snorted with amused contempt. "Don't play dumb."
"I'm not! Who the hell are you?"
Her head cocked sideways with a slight frown. "W. How can you pretend not to know that? Are you a child that you'd think that pretending ignorance would work?" She grew irritated and gritted her teeth. "I want to know what role you had in the assassination of Theresa, rightful ruler of Kazdel. And I will have answers from you."
Amiya's eyes narrowed and she balled one of her fists.
Hayden just shook his head, fed up. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. Theresa who? Kazdel? I couldn't even tell you where that is."
W raised a brow.
He rambled on, frustrated. "I have no idea what's going on here. I don't know why all of you people are fighting. I don't know why you're killing each other. I don't know about rulers or cities or any of it!"
She scoffed. "What are you playing at, Doctor?"
"I'm not playing!" he barked at her, causing her to jerk her head back in surprise. "I woke up a few hours ago with zero memories and have spent the entire day running and fighting with a bunch of strangers who seem to know who I am and who are trying to help me, who are dying for me, whether I want them to or not. I don't remember you or anyone. I haven't the slightest notion of anything before waking up today."
W threw back her head and laughed in disbelief. "Are you for real? What a lame attempt to get out of this. Why would anyone except a child believe such a flimsy ruse?"
"I'm not lying!"
"What's your game? Seriously."
Melantha spoke up, her voice cold. "He's not lying."
The Sarkaz leader sighed heavily and rubbed her neck, visibly annoyed. "You cannot believe I'm stupid enough to fall for such an idiotic trick. Please stop this. You're embarrassing all of us."
He snarled at her. "Tricks and lies. Violence and death. I don't know what kind of lousy world you people have built for yourselves but it sickens me. I, at least, am telling the truth."
She rolled her eyes as if talking to a stubborn child. "How convenient."
"Not for me!" he shouted at her, flushed with anger. "Or for any of those you people are going around murdering. Or the ones dying for a man who has no idea who they even are."
W stared into his eyes for a while, contemplative. "You truly don't remember?"
He shook his head again. "No. Nothing."
This time, resignation and annoyance filled her sigh. "And just how did you lose your memories, Doctor?"
He shrugged but it was Melantha who answered.
"He doesn't know. He was critically injured. Something was done to him in the lab where we found him. They kept him alive and healed him. But he hasn't recalled anything yet."
"We were attacked right after I woke up," he explained, trying to keep his temper under control. It was better to have constructive dialogue than to fight. "We've spent all day just trying to get to somewhere safe. To survive."
"Fine." She waved her in dismissal. "If that's all really true, then I suppose I won't be able to get the truth out of you until your memories return. Unfortunately, if they're just repressed, I assume torture will only lock them up further." She cast a glance at Amiya. "Might as well leave you in the care of your friends. Maybe they can restore you. And then we can talk again."
Relief hit him, though he was still upset. "How gracious of you."
"I know."
Amiya spoke up, challenging W. "What do you know about Theresa's assassination? And about me? How do you know my name?"
W turned her head and focused on the young woman. Studying her again, her brows rose. "You don't recall me either, do you? Well, perhaps you're too young to remember." Unconcerned, she shrugged and ignored the questions before turning around to leave.
Amiya stepped forward and opened her mouth to say something more, but Steward cut her off.
He took two steps forward and raised his wand, pointing it at her back. Fires of hate blazed in his eyes and his lips curled in rage as he spoke. "You're not going anywhere. You'll answer for what you did to Scout and the others."
W looked over her shoulder and half-turned with a contemptuous laugh. "You're all mostly dead already. Do you really want to fight and hurry that death up?"
The black-clad mercenaries behind her fanned out, hands on their weapons, readying them.
Rhodes Island raised their own arms. Crossbows and swords and Arts ready for battle.
Hayden saw the recklessness in Steward's eyes and realized they were a word away from another deadly firefight. He rushed over and put a hand on the young man's arm, pushing it and the wand down. "Stop!" he hissed under his breath. "We can't afford to fight."
Steward ignored him, trembling in fury. He only had eyes for W. "You killed our friends. I will avenge them!" He struggled to raise the wand again, with every intent to fire it.
Hayden silently cursed. The young man had lost too many people, too quickly. He placed himself in front of Steward and stole his gaze. "Stop it! Think. We're all exhausted and beat up. You start something and you're only going to get more of your friends killed. Is that what you want?"
Steward's head jerked back and his eyes widened.
Hayden rushed on, using this chance. "More of us will die. For what? So you can feel good giving in to your anger? Is your emotional desire more important than the lives of those around you right now?"
"They killed—"
"The dead are already gone!" he snapped. "You can't do anything about that. Grieve and keep justice in mind for the future. But don't put others in early graves just because you are upset. That's selfish. Think of others before yourself!"
The words caught Steward by surprise. Perhaps he'd been too harsh. But the young man turned his head away and stopped trying to fight Hayden.
Hayden relaxed a bit and stepped away, not missing the hostile glare that Steward gave him.
W lazily rolled her shoulders and turned her head. Raising her voice, she shouted. "Looks like we're not going to fight today. How about you?"
Rhodes Island folk looked in all directions. Who was she talking to? Was there yet another ambush waiting for them?
Melantha's hand tightened on her sword and it slipped a handspan from the sheath.
Adnachiel lifted his crossbow and searched the rooftops on either side of the street.
From out of the shadows between two apartment buildings came a figure, a small male. He carried a huge crossbow in one hand and bore a Reunion badge on his right arm. He leaned against the corner of the building closest to him, insolent. "Tallulah, in her glorious generosity, has chosen to honour the Fallen Warrior by allowing them to go. This time." Giving the rag-tag Rhodes Island people an unimpressed once over, he turned and slunk off into the shadows again.
"There you have it," W drawled. She waved her own force forwards and they walked off, only one of their member bothering to rearguard as they left. Apparently they didn't think much of Rhodes Island's might.
Adnachiel gave Steward a concerned look. He stepped closer and put a hand on the other man's shoulder.
Steward angrily shrugged it off and stomped forward, glaring hard enough at Hayden that he might have killed with his gaze alone. Then he turned away and put his back to the group.
Others silently followed, trudging past Hayden. Fortunately, most of the others seemed relieved not to have been in another battle so soon and a couple even smiled his way.
Amiya stood there, bewildered, staring at the place where W had disappeared around a corner.
Melantha jostled her and then looked at Hayden and motioned forward with her head. "We should go. Before anyone changes their mind and decides they want to fight after all."
He nodded and fell into step beside her after nudging Amiya out of her thoughts. They'd been lucky. No one else had died. And any encounter in which they all survived should be counted as a win.
Hayden's odd impression of the city's edge became more pronounced as they passed through it. The city had an oddly defined end, at which the roads just stopped and there was a stretch of grassland and then a wall of forest.
The group jogged across the open field towards the forest with weapons at the ready, expecting an ambush. After everything they'd endured so far, it was obvious that this would be the perfect place to plant another, just as they were about to reach their destination and relaxing their guard, with the trees providing plenty of cover.
To everyone's surprised relief, the woods were empty of hostile life. The group watched in all directions and even kept a wary eye on the branches above, yet nobody jumped out at them. No shots were fired.
A short way into the forest and the landscape opened into a small clearing. Parked in the center of the grassy circle was a large flying machine that couldn't seem to decide if it was a helicopter or an airplane. The body was that of a fat-bellied plane, the kind meant for carrying cargo. The wings had propellers, rather than jet engines. However, the wings had been rotated so that they stood vertical and the propellers faced the sky, as they would on a helicopter. The airship must trade horizontal flying speed for the ability to set down and take off vertically, allowing for more utility.
A group of anxious individuals in familiar gear stood around the rear of the flying machine, eyes on the forest as they emerged. Smiles of relief broke out in both groups. One of their members had their back to Hayden's group and was pointing back in their direction. He must have been a lookout who'd seen them coming and alerted those waiting.
A commanding woman nodded to the scout and looked over at Hayden and the others. She didn't smile. Dressed in a long-sleeved crop-top shirt that revealed her belly, she also wore loose-fitting pants; both were black. Raven hair fell straight to her chest and the perky, black ears on top of her head belied her name. Hayden recognized her from the moments after he'd woken up.
"Doberman!" Amiya cried, bursting into an excited smile as she ran.
Doberman waved at the others next to her, her voice like iron. "Healers. Let's get them patched up. Make sure we don't have any serious injuries before we get in the air."
The two groups came together and mingled with hugs and arm clasps and laughter. However, the mood took a dive shortly after that initial happy burst when news of both Ace's and Scout's teams was passed along. Shouts of joy turned to ones of anger and denial and harsh words were thrown.
Doberman frowned and her thin body sagged for a long moment. Then she drew herself up again. "Well, that answers the question of whether we need to send a rescue team after the rescue team." She gave Hayden a level look. "A high price paid."
He wasn't sure any answer he could give would be appropriate. He was saved from a reply by Amiya.
"His memories are still gone," she informed the commander in a deferential tone.
"I see." Doberman still looked disbelieving of this fact. "Then it seems as if rescuing the doctor was a complete waste of time."
"Doberman!" Amiya exclaimed. "We saved his life!"
She turned a very serious face on the shorter young woman, eyes piercing. "At the cost of how many? Was it really worth it?"
Even Amiya, Hayden's staunchest ally thus far, hesitated to answer. She glanced at the others, some of whom were watching the exchange, all of whom were listening. Many friends and colleagues had been lost that day. There was no way to answer without pain.
Doberman was not so unkind as to let the woman suffer to answer. She turned her head and spoke to the group. "Every mission carries risk. And costs. We all know that. But we achieved our goals today. Let's not lose sight of that fact. Now, everybody inside and get ready for liftoff." So saying, she marched into the rear door of the plane, which opened out of the back of the belly, forming a ramp to walk up.
Steward stalked past, his shoulder slamming into Hayden's from behind, obviously intentionally, as the angry young man followed Doberman into the plane.
Amiya turned to Hayden and couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I…"
He smiled and patted her shoulder. "You don't have to stick up for me. When it comes to losing friends, the cost is always too high."
She nodded and they boarded as well.
There were only a couple of tiny, circular windows in the belly of the plane. Luckily, Hayden found himself in a seat next to one. The rotors whirred with blurring speed and lifted them off the ground. The pilot had a steady and experienced hand and they rose straight up into the air, not so much as a single branch from the surrounding forest scratching them.
Up they went, into the sky. No bullets or missiles followed and they soon climbed out of reach. Tensions eased. They were finally safe.
Hayden peered out the window, eager to see more of the strange world he'd found himself in. At first, the city seemed a somewhat normal, if battered, sight from above, shrinking to the size of a toy, smoking from several places. But as they got higher and went wide, he was able to assess it from the side and his jaw dropped. This was no ordinary city.
"It's moving!" he exclaimed aloud without realizing.
Melantha, sitting on one side of him, actually managed to laugh before cutting herself off.
Amiya half giggled. "Right. Everything is new again, huh?"
The city looked as if it had been scooped out of the ground and placed on many massive tank treads. In the wake of the monstrosity was a trail of destruction, everything in the path having been torn up and churned into brown muck.
He looked at her in astonishment. "How is this possible?" he gasped before turning back to the window to watch. "It should be a scientific impossibility."
It was Doberman who answered, from a seat across from him, her eyes suspicious and judging, perhaps wondering if someone would take the ignorance act this far. "Mobile cities. The world built them in the face of so many catastrophes of one kind or another. It became too dangerous to stay in one place. After tens of thousands of years, we've returned to being nomadic creatures again, living both a modern and hunter-gatherer life."
He had so many questions. "Why doesn't it fall apart under its own weight? How can it defy gravity and not sink into the ground? Where does it get enough energy to move?"
Amiya giggled louder this time.
Melantha turned away to hide another smile.
"Originium," Doberman answered. "I don't know the specifics, but that's what powers it. And the cities never stop moving, always looking for a safer place. Though the truth is, nowhere is safe anymore." The desire to talk seemed to go out of her. She leaned her head back on the inside of the fuselage and closed her eyes.
He stared out at the landscape, torn up from meteor strikes and mobile site tracks and fires and more. The planet didn't appear to be in much better shape than the worn-torn city had been.
What had happened to this world? And what had happened to the people in it? Surely such violent and war-like people never could have built such huge marvels of engineering, technology and effort. Things like cities, let alone mobile ones, would require long-term peace and cooperation to construct.
Was the whole world like this, or just this tiny corner? Well, it was hard to believe that the falling comets were only striking here.
With the loss of his memories, he felt little direct connection to the people sitting around him, the same with their cause. Part of him had thought about leaving it all behind. He had no desire to face down more crazy individuals capable of tearing down buildings with their incredible powers. And living in a city like this just seemed foolish.
And yet, what if there was no other place to go? What if there was nothing for it but to make the best of where he was?
The vibration of the plane ran through his whole body and he felt even more drained of energy than he had during the race on the ground. The adrenalin must be wearing off. Lost in his thoughts, he, too leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
What kind of a future awaited him? And should he throw himself back into the life these folk had told him was his, or try a new path? They seemed to need him, seemed to believe in him. Or at least some did. Surely there was a place for him here, and a cause, a purpose that seemed righteous enough so far, if very dangerous.
He felt Amiya's shoulder on his arm and half opened his eyes.
She had already fallen asleep. She leaned against him, eyes closed, lips parted slightly.
Looking around, many of the others were nodding off as well. Steward had collapsed in on himself, but the anger had faded and his face looked peaceful as he slept. Hopefully, his ire at Hayden would peter out as his grief eased.
Hayden took no offence at the anger. Stopping Steward from enacting his revenge had no doubt saved them all from being massacred. He was pretty sure the others knew it and that Steward would realize it too, in time.
Doberman was something of an enigma. She was difficult to read. Was she an ally? An unwilling one, perhaps? She seemed too cold to have been a friend. He respected her self assurance and the way she readily commanded. Though she seemed suspicious of his amnesia, perhaps they could find common ground somewhere and build a better relationship than they might have had in the past.
Did that mean he was going to stay with Rhodes Island? For now, he still felt ignorant and helpless. Learning more would be of great help.
He glanced down at Amiya and then over at Melantha. There were good people here. From what he'd seen so far, that might be rare in this world. It would be worth building a future with folks like that.
