A slight buzzing sound was filling the elevator as the cabin rapidly rose up along the central pillar of the Settlement. The large bay window gave a wide and unobstructed view of almost an entire half of the inside of the metal dome, allowing the passengers to see people going about their day down below. But most of the time, this elevator was used by FRANV pilots. Pilots who never had any contact with adults. Or at least with adults apart from their Squadron Officer.
Formally, pilots were to refer to her using official terminology at all times. But in reality, for Squadron Twenty, she was Maria. She was the figure they had knew ever since they took their first steps in the nursery of the Garden. And if all those years spent together had built a strong sense of trust between squadron members, it also did between the squadron and their officer.
But there are secrets that even people of trust should not know.
While waiting to be rescued, Eighty-Three had made discoveries that went in direct contradiction with what he and all the others had been taught by Maria over the years. And with both of them standing next to each other in the cabin, the pilot was far from feeling comfortable. He had the feeling that at any moment, she would notice something off that would force him to reveal the many things he wanted to keep to himself. The only thing he could really do to calm down was fidgeting in his pocket with the small plastic stick he had preciously kept with him during all the medical check-ups he went through. It had been a small miracle that nobody had noticed it, and Eighty-Three was more than glad for that.
"Are you okay?"
After several minutes of almost complete silence, the sudden question startled him.
"Ye… Yeah… I'm fine," he faltered as a reply before turning his head towards her. "It's just that when we were outside, we have seen very old things that we never read about in any of our books. And I can't help but think about it."
It was only half the truth, but he hoped that by telling this, he would appear honest enough for her not to ask any more questions.
"Well it is true that history is not something pilots are taught, but I imagine that by searching hard enough in the library, you will find answers to your questions. But sometimes a life time is not enough to find what we look for."
Eighty-Three only nodded, barely listening to the officer's advice. Instead, his mind focused back on the images of all those people living in the wild without the fear of the klaxosaurs. They did not have any technology, yet they provided all the needed care and he felt more connected to them than to any adult that was currently living in the Settlement.
The metal landscape disappeared as the elevator reached the final step of its ride along the pillar and entered the ceiling of the dome. Were it not for the lights installed within the cabin, the darkness inside would have been total. But only a few seconds later, the ride finally ended.
Both Maria and Eighty-Three turned around as the door that had been behind them opened without a noise. Quickly, they walked through another small corridor not unlike all the others in the Settlement before arriving in front of a closed door. And with a gesture she had already done a thousand times, she swiped her hand in front of a security panel. At first, there was only a small confirmation sound. But quickly enough, the two panels slid out of the way, revealing a paved walkway protected from the sun by trees on both sides. That day, the shade was very much welcome as the sun was hitting hard through the clear panels of the dome.
By stepping on the straight path, both of them entered what was officially called the Crew Living Facility. But for the pilots, it was home. All under the dome, it was made of a large forested park that hosted a small building in a style that heavily contrasted with the rest of the Settlement. The ground floor hosted all the common rooms such as the mess hall or the living room while upstairs were all the rooms that required a separation of the boys and the girls, each gender getting one wing for their bedrooms and bathrooms.
As Eighty-Three closed in on the main door, he clearly noticed the similarities with the buildings he had seen during his outdoor experience. The stones, the architecture, the overall style, he was seeing everything under a new light. And as far as he could remember, he had never felt this strange when passing the main entrance door before.
The main lobby was completely empty, and the familiar feeling of the carpeted floor under his shoe brought his mind back where it was supposed to be. It was only at this moment that he realized that he was truly back among his squad after many hardships. And in a way it warmed up his heart a little as he followed Maria next to the closed living room doors. Without waiting for him to quickly redo his hair, she opened the two panels wide open, which immediately sparked a male voice inside to bark an order.
"Squadron Twenty! Attention!"
When he stepped inside, he immediately noticed the six pilots standing straight in a clean straight line along the wall.
"At ease," simply answered the officer as she stopped in front of the first pilot in the line, Code One One Zero. "I am happy to announce that after post recovery medical examinations, Code Zero Eight Three has been cleared to rejoin the squadron. However, Code Zero Five Zero is currently undergoing surgery for her leg injury and it is too early to tell if she will be able to return into a cockpit. But you can rest assured that she has been stabilized and that she is no longer in a critical condition. Again, I want to say congratulations to everyone. This is the first time you had to perform a real Search and Rescue operation, and you all performed by the book. Now I believe you have many things to say to Zero Eight Three, so I am going to leave you alone."
Without giving anyone the time to react, she turned around and walked away, closing the living room doors behind her. But it was only when he heard the sound of the main entrance door shutting close that Eighty-Three spoke, looking at all the various members of the squadron.
"I am sorry," he started which brought some surprised looks on some faces. "Through my lack of attention, I put not only Fifty and myself in danger, but also all of you by forcing you to fight with only three planes. So I want to sincerely apologize to all of you."
But suddenly, he felt a hand softly putting itself on his shoulder.
"Don't be sorry, Eighty-Three. That kind of stuff happens when we fight. We have all trained for it, so don't worry."
The reply came from the squadron leader, his serious look fixed towards the recovered pilot. Eighty-Three lowered his head, trying to brush away the feeling of guilt. He remained silent for a few seconds, before giving a tiny nod.
"Thanks One-Ten."
By that point, nobody was standing in line anymore and they had all gathered around Eighty-Three who finally took the time to sit down on one of the couches.
"So," continued Code Three Zero Five, One-Ten's copilot, "how do you feel? You probably got shaken quite a lot down there."
Her voice had some sort of calming effect. But it was not due to her tone or her intonation. Instead it was because as the years went on and the pilots grew up, Maria started to act more and more seriously towards them, and Three-Aught-Five had started to fill up that role by always caring about the others' issues.
"I am a little tired," replied Eighty-Three. "I barely got any rest during the night because I had to care for Fifty's wound. And ever since you brought us back here, I didn't have any opportunity to take a nap."
"What about her? What really happened to her back then?"
He simply shook his head.
"I don't really know. When that thing split up, it went through the armor like a hot knife through butter. And if it can pierce armor, it can easily pierce a leg. It wasn't pretty, believe me. That's why I tried to RTB. But the ammunition exploded and we had to bail out. Good things those ruins provided us with shelter for the night."
For now, he felt like keeping his squad mates in the dark was the best way to go. It was too big of a risk to even imply that he was helped by someone living outside a Settlement, let alone tell everyone about an entire village.
"Well it's a good thing you didn't get hurt. Retrieving you would have been way harder, but I guess it's not something we couldn't have done anyway."
"Yeah, we never doubted you would come. By the way, I know that you and One-Ten were those that picked us up, but what about the rest of you guys? Who did what?"
His reply came from someone who had not talked yet, Code Eight Two Seven, pilot of Twenty Charlie.
"Me and Twos came along for support," he said as he put his elbow on the shoulder of Code Two Two Two, his male co-pilot. "Meanwhile, the girls over there were lucky enough and got to stay here to sleep a little longer."
With his thumb, he quickly pointed towards the two female crew members of Twenty Delta who both rolled their eyes at almost the same time, much to the amusement of Twos and his pilot.
"You perfectly know we stayed on stand-by during the whole thing, Eight-Two. You would have thanked us if the Settlement got attacked while you were away," launched Code Five Nine Four with a very serious voice while Code Four Seven Eight was sending dark looks at the two boys who couldn't help themselves but continue to chuckle.
"Oh come on, Nine. Can't we laugh a little bit?" asked Twos, trying to cheer her up. But the only reply he got was a negative shaking of her head. "Well alright then. Understood. No fun. Not for Nine and Four-Seven at least."
Eighty-Three smiled as he witnessed the scene. People living outside or not, he was back home among people he could trust with his own life.
The sound of a soft bell suddenly rang out of well-hidden roof speakers, immediately breaking out the feud as everyone started to move towards the door leading to the lobby.
"Are you hungry?" asked Three-Aught-Five as they crossed the room to another set of doors similar to those of the living room.
"I've only eaten a bag of nutrition gel this morning and got another one during the medical exams, so yeah I am a little hungry."
"Man, you actually ate some of those? Well I can add another line to my list of reasons not to crash," commented Eight-Two with his upbeat tone as he opened the door.
The dining room was, at least in shape, an exact copy of the living room but flipped around to fit the symmetrical nature of the building. The furniture was also quite different, with one long table taking most of the place in the center. On each side, there were four regularly spaced chairs waiting in front of a plate, a glass and various pieces of cutlery. And between each of those sets were large closed plates containing the food the pilots were about to eat.
With the force of habit, everyone took place at their designated seats, the pilots on one side, the co-pilots on the other and members of the same crew facing each other. Having an empty chair in front of him felt a little strange to Eighty-Three. And even if he knew that Fifty was safe and being treated in the medical facilities of the Settlement, he still had the feeling that he had lost something while down there.
When everybody settled and the sound of the chairs grinding on the floor stopped, everyone put their hands together and closed their eyes without anyone giving any instruction.
And like the voice of a single person, they all started to speak the same words.
"We the pilots, who dedicate our lives to fight the enemies of humankind, would like to thank you, Papa, for this food you give us now and for all the tools you provide to us in our great struggle against the forces of evil and destruction. We shall put it to good use in the accomplishment of our mission and we shall not rest until all of our foes have been destroyed."
A heavy silence then fell on everyone and remained for a few seconds before they all reopened their eyes and started to take food in their own plates. Nobody talked as they started to eat, and Eighty-Three was glad that it was that way. While he was chewing on a small piece of meat, his mind had returned to his various troubles and he did not want to be disturbed.
He remembered the two bowls of vegetable soup that Frederic had brought to him. There was a sharp contrast between what he could eat every day and what Frederic and all the others had for their everyday meals. Everything was handed out to him on a platter by people he never actually saw while those outside had to work every day for only a few vegetables in a wooden bowl. Sure, the life of a FRANV pilot was one that needed a lot of energy, but for the first time, he felt like he did not deserve that much care.
Why were so many resources dedicated to that way of life that was so different from how the adults lived, while they could be used to give a decent life to all those living outside the Settlements?
Those questions where weighing so much on his mind that he stopped eating. And it was something that Three-Aught-Five noticed.
"Eighty-Three? Are you fine?"
Her voice made it clear that she was worried, and a second later everyone had turned their look towards him.
"Yeah, yeah," he simply replied before standing up. "I'm just tired. I'll go back to my room to rest. Don't worry about me."
Before anyone could say anything or protest, he walked away. The sound of the door he closed behind him resonated loudly on the walls of the main lobby as he walked towards the stairs and up to the first floor.
He had walked back and forth through the corridor that ran along the boys' wing thousands of times during the last few years and during that time, they had always felt bland to him. But now, he was also seeing the narrow space separating the wooden shacks. The clean tan walls, the soft carpeted floor, the painted doors engraved with code numbers of each pilot, everything was reminding him of what he had seen by how completely different it was. And as he stopped in front of the door marked with his code on it, his mind was both racing and tired at the same time.
He opened the unlocked door and rushed into the tiny room, quickly closing it behind him. Without much care, he took off his uniform and rapidly put on the light nightwear that was on his bed before falling down on the soft mattress. And unable to do anything against it, his two eyes closed almost immediately and he was dragged into a deep dreamless sleep.
"Officer Emidova. Bravo's flight recorder has gone through decontamination. We are ready to start analyzing the recordings."
As she entered the Operation Control Room of Settlement Twenty, Maria only nodded at the words of the controller before sitting down behind the main desk that was overlooking the numerous workstations and also gave a perfect view of the large screens that covered the opposite wall.
That room was the brain of all the armed operations that involved Settlement Twenty. In front of each of the many desks were all the people that worked behind the scenes so that everything was going well. Communication operators, analysts, weapon experts and others all worked together to get the FRANV in the air and give them the best chances of victory against the klaxosaurs.
As the screens turned on one after the other, Maria scratched her head while looking at the paper work she had to fill out. She had been doing her job for a very long time, but it was the first time one of the crews under her orders crashed and needed deployment of a Search and Rescue mission and she was a little lost. But she quickly tossed them aside on her desk as the final screen lit up.
"Alright, let's start with the audio recordings."
One of the technicians nodded and typed a few things on his keyboard. On the wall screens, a visualization of a long audio file appeared and its content started to play over the speakers of the room. For a long moment, the only things Maria heard were standard communications with the other pilots and with Operation Control. So, as all this uninteresting data went by, she gave instructions to get more information on the screens, mainly the position of the FRANV on a map of the area and the status of the various systems of the plane, all in sync with the audio.
Without really anything interesting happening, time felt like it passed slower than usual. But this boring part ended when the four dots got closer to the mark that represented their objective and the audio track finally started to sound interesting.
« Twenty Lead, Twenty Alpha. Visual on the target confirmed. Over. »
« Copy that Alpha. Continue the attack as planned. Over. »
« Understood. Initiating attack. Twenty Alpha out. »
As expected, it was leader of the squadron, Code One One Zero, who had handled all the radio communications with Operation Control. And even if they were included in the audio recording, Maria's interest was more attracted by what came just after.
« Look at the size of that thing. I thought we were going against a Class-A klaxosaur, not something that's two times bigger. »
The surprise in Zero Eight Three's voice was in accordance with the information she had gathered from the rest of the squadron during the debriefing. They all had expected a smaller target based on the intelligence they had. In fact, Maria had also been surprised by the difference between reality and the reports given to her by Intelligence and made a mental note to report it.
« Come on, let's do this fast and go back home. In and out, before it runs away. »
« Can that thing even walk? Looks like it can barely crawl. »
Maria chuckled, imagining Five Nine Four rolling her eyes at Eight Two Seven's remark.
« Let's continue by the book for now. Bravo, it's your turn. »
« Copy that, Alpha. We're going in. »
The dot representing Zero Eight Three and Zero Five Zero split off from the others who followed a trajectory to orbit around the objective. At the same time, information started to appear on the sections of the screen dedicated to the targeting and weapon systems. For now, everything was following standard protocol.
A few seconds later, they entered the final phase of their initial attack run and the weapon bay opened. What would have happened next in a regular situation would have been Zero Eight Three pressing the button on his flight stick to release the first group of HMGBs, Heavy Magma Guided Bombs. The payload would have then headed directly towards the blue target thanks to all their guiding chips being loaded up with targeting data provided by Zero Five Zero.
The problem was that none of that happened. Instead, the voice of Zero Eight Three returned over the loudspeakers.
« What is that? It launched something. »
And indeed, according to what was displayed by the radar, an object was closing in on the FRANV. And it was closing in fast.
« Bravo! Abort! Abort! »
One One Zero had barked this order, and Zero Eight Three's only answer was a grunt as he started to execute evasion maneuvers.
« It's still on me! It's still on me! »
« Get out of there Bravo! »
« I'm trying! I'm trying! »
But despite all the cries for help, the unknown object was still getting closer. But just before it made contact, the single object suddenly split up into many smaller projectiles that did not slow down. Truly, Zero Eight Three had no chance of getting away.
At the moment of the impact, everyone in the room had expected to hear some kind of grunt coming from Zero Eight Three, but that was not what came out of the speakers.
What did, however, was an intense female scream that was full of pain.
Maria shivered while a vast majority of systems started to display error messages or completely stopped working.
"Pause. What kind of damage have they sustained?" she launched to the analysts, trying to shake off the scream out of her head.
"A lot," replied one of the technicians, looking at more detailed information he had on his own screen. "The sensors have picked up twenty five different impact points all over the body, the fuel lines of the first engine got cut, the rotation shaft of the second engine was damaged, fuel cells three and five were punctured and most of the ammunition was hit. Many sensors also failed to pick up anything, so it's fair to assume that damage is greater than that."
"And do we have any idea of what that thing was? It doesn't look like anything they've used against us before."
Usually, a Class-A klaxosaur under aerial attack would launch small unguided projectiles that, despite their high speed, were easy to track and thus easy to avoid. But here, it was somehow guided, and they needed to find answers.
"Maybe they are evolving in a way," proposed another specialist on the opposite side of the room. "We have attacked them with guided weapons and missiles for years, so they might have learnt from us and found out that if they wanted to hit a FRANV, they had to follow it."
"And the fact that it split up in several pieces before impacting the target is very reminiscing of the old anti-air guided missiles that were used back in the day," commented a weapon engineer.
Maria remained silent, but her mind was racing. If those theories turned out to be true, then it would mean that not only were the klaxosaur numerous but also way more intelligent than expected. It needed to be reported to the highest echelons of the command chain as fast as possible. Quickly, she scribbled down all that information on a note pad.
"Alright, let's continue," she finally said after putting back the pen and focusing back on the screens.
The audio file restarted to play, immediately filling the room with a radio transmission.
« We've been hit! We've been hit! I have lost most systems and my copilot! »
« Understood Twenty Alpha. RTB immediately. All remaining units, continue the mission. Twenty Lead out. »
On the map, the three dots representing what remained of Squadron Twenty started to move faster, attacking the target with high speed passes and dropping one munition at a time instead of using all of their payload in a single run. But Maria and all the analysts were focused on the dot representing the damaged aircraft.
« Barely have any throttle response. Lost all yaw controls. Flaps are dead. Airbrake too. Almost all sub-systems are dead. Fifty? Are you alright? »
Maria guessed that, at that moment, Zero Eight Three looked through the small canopy mirror that allowed both crew members to make eye contact during flight. And she was not really sure if she wanted to know what he had seen.
« No… No… It… I'm bleeding… Bleeding out… Blood everywhere… »
The reply had been a panting voice that was struggling to speak through the pain.
« Come on, Fifty! Stay with me! Don't pass out! »
Maria could tell the precise moment panic started to appear in Zero Eight Three's voice. And even if she knew how the story ended, she could feel her heart tighten.
« My… My leg! I can't feel… Aaaaah... I can't feel it! »
«Calm down! Calm down! Everything's going to be fine! I'm bringing you back home. »
« It hurts! Aaaaah… I'm going to die, Eighty-three! I'm going to die! »
« No you're not! We're almost there! Stay with me, Fifty! »
« It... It has been an honor fighting with you, Eighty-three. I… I hope I made Papa proud… »
It was refreshing in some strange way for everyone in the room to hear that. Even when facing the hardest of challenges and risking their lives in the process, the pilots were still aware of who they were doing it for. The pilots were calling him Papa ever since they were able to talk, but for Maria, he was the chairman of the HPE, the Human Protection Entity. She did not know anything about him or any other member of the board, to the point she couldn't even tell if they were men or women. But really, she didn't really need to know all of that anyway. The one thing she knew, though, was that if he was pleased with your work, very good things would come your way.
However, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a large explosion. On the screens, more systems showed signs of important failures while some others had completely stopped working or sending data at all.
"Pause. What just happened?"
"By looking at the timing of the failures and the disconnections," started yet another analyst, "it seems that ammunition stored in the weapon bay detonated. This might be a damaged HMGB that sparked a chain reaction with smaller munitions."
"Are there parts of the plane that were not damaged by that explosion?"
"The thermal shielding near and around the cockpit worked as intended. The rest was exposed to extremely high temperatures and pressures, which caused the FRANV to completely dislocate."
"So no damage to the cockpit?"
"If we ignore the previous impacts, then no."
Maria nodded before turning back towards the screens. "Let's see how the ejection went."
The audio clip started playing again, and Zero Eight Three's voice immediately came out of the loudspeakers.
«This is Twenty Bravo. I've lost all controls and the plane's going down! We are bailing out! I repeat, we are bailing out! »
The next second, all the information related to the subsystems of the FRANV disappeared and were replaced by the one related to the subsystems of the ejection pod while in a corner, several videos appeared. Those were the footage captured by several cameras placed in and around the pod. The images of the exterior showed a blue sky filled with a rain of burning metal and a green ground. However, Maria was focused on the footage of the cameras pointed at the pilots. With the armored panels closed down, the only thing she could see through the darkness was the small blinking light of the emergency beacon situated next to the co-pilot's head.
As the clip continued to play, Maria continued to ask all the questions needed to understand what was on screen.
"Everything good on the ejection?"
"Boosters one to five were ok, a slight ignition delay on booster six, armored panels deployed and closed without issue and nothing wrong with the two parachutes," announced the technician dedicated to those issues. "Everything went fine."
Maria was thankful of all the work done by the engineers that designed the pods. She was not really sure how she would have handled two pilots coming back to the settlement in body bags.
Silently, she continued to watch the images of the flaming hail that was falling on the trees below as the last explosions of the self-destruction charges were ringing in the distance. But as time went by and the pod slowly came down, shapes started to appear under the vegetation. It was not really hard to understand that those shapes were old ruins of some abandoned village, and in her head Maria thought how lucky they were to find shelter so easily.
Not much happened until touchdown. The pod landed directly on the old concrete, damaging several of the exterior cameras. But she did not really care as she focused back on the video feed dedicated to the pilots. When Zero Eight Three finally unlatched and pushed down the panels, light finally entered inside the pod, allowing everyone inside the command center to see not only the pilot getting out, but also how Zero Five Zero was doing.
And saying she wasn't looking good was clearly an understatement.
Even with the limited resolution of the cameras, they could all see the important wound on her leg, making some cringe like they were themselves feeling the pain in their own legs. Some couldn't watch anymore and turned away their looks to focus on other tasks, but there was this form of morbid curiosity that kept them from truly getting the vision out of their minds.
And so, most of them welcomed the sight of Zero Eight Three performing the standard first aid procedure and applying a bandage on the wound.
"How were her vitals at the time?" asked the Officer just as, on the screen, the pilot helped his crewmate out of the pod.
"The last readings showed an important blood loss and a broken bone, but the bandage seem to have done enough to stabilize her for a while. The data has already been sent to the surgeons at the medical ward."
Maria sat down and sighed as she let herself fall on the seat of her desk, Zero Eight Three carrying Zero Five Zero out of the field of view of all the cameras that were still functioning. She rubbed her face with her hands as if she tried to wake herself up from a bad dream where the klaxosaurs had become much more dangerous than they already were. But her surroundings were still the same. The notes saying that contacting her superiors was of the upmost importance were still in front of her, like a grim reminder that the conflict was not getting easier with time.
But she still had to oversee the first review of the flight recorder data, and she was not expecting much from the several hours of empty recording spanning the entire night.
"Come on, let's get this over with," she said with a very annoyed voice. "Someone speed that thing up a little."
The technician that controlled the playing of the various clips acknowledged the order and pressed several buttons on his keyboard. And even then, there was obviously not a lot to see on the screen. The only thing that visibly changed was the shade of the picture that was becoming darker as the sun set down.
The night looked strangely clear to Maria as she could see most elements of the cockpit despite the surrounding darkness. But in a corner of her head, she knew she did not really know what natural darkness looked like anymore after so many years living in the artificial light of the settlements.
But she was brought out of her thoughts as, with the recording sped up, something quickly appeared and disappeared in the frame.
"What was that?" she quickly asked as the technician rushed to pause the video and rewind to the moment where they could see what this unidentified shadow was.
And let just say that she was really far from imagining something as close as what she was seeing, and the only reaction she had was a few words muttered to herself.
"Yob tvoyu mat'."
There was only a few rays of light coming through the blinds, but they were blinding to Eighty Three who had just woken up.
For a few moments, the experience felt surreal as complete silence was filling the small bedroom. No ringing from the alarm clock, no talking from the other boys, no one walking from and to the showers, no sounds of doors opening and closing. It was a sort of calm he had only experienced on the morning of the previous day while waiting for rescue with Fifty.
But this feeling disappeared after a few seconds when all his issues returned to his mind. With a grunt, he forced himself out of his bed, yawning and rubbing his face to reduce the blurriness of his eyes that were still asleep. However, it did not prevent him from noticing the small rectangular shape that was on his desk.
It was his personal communicator, a device that every pilot had on himself at any moment. Compared to the rest of technology available in the settlement, they were extremely simple. Through the simple touch screen, it only had the ability to send and receive messages, both text and audio. But if Eighty-Three were to believe Twos, there also was a chip inside that allowed Maria to know where they all were at any time. However, he had never explained where this piece of information came from, so everybody simply brushed it aside.
After simply tapping on it, the black screen lit up, revealing all the information that he needed to know.
10:12
Tuesday
One message by: Code 305
"I brought you back your communicator that you had left in the changing room when we had to sortie two days ago. You are going to be alone this morning since the rest of the team is on a training mission. We should be back by the early afternoon. Take all the time you need to rest."
In a way, he was grateful that the six other pilots had to leave the house empty for an entire morning. He needed to be alone and think about what was the best way to go from here.
A fresh shower later, he was completely awaken and wearing a fresh and clean uniform. However, as he was about to dispose of the dirty clothes of the previous day, he noticed a small bulge in one of the pockets. Confusion lasted for only a split second before he remembered what it was. It was the only physical thing he had brought back from the village, and it had to stay a secret.
And so, on the feed of the various cameras hidden all over the building, Eighty-Three simply proceeded as normal, dropped off the dirty uniform in the designated basket and returned to his room where he picked up another device that was sitting on a shelf. With it in hand, the pilot turned around, closed the door and walked towards the stairs.
The education of all the pilots started with simple songs and nursery rhymes, and most of them simply did not care about music anymore after a few years and more standard lessons. But it was not the case for Eighty-Three. He liked music, spending many hours of his free time listening to the records he could find in the small dedicated section of the library of the Garden. And after the first year as a true pilot, when all the members of the squadron could ask for a gift, he asked for a way to listen to more music when he was in the settlement. What he received was this device, even simpler than his issued communicator, with a smaller screen, a few physical buttons arranged in a circle and a cord to link it to a pair of headphones that allowed him to enjoy his music even if others did not want to listen.
As he went down the steps, he put the two headphones in his ears and pressed the play button to launch a random title out of the small database. Quickly, he passed through the dining room where what remained of the squadron's short breakfast was waiting for him, picking up a simple buttered toast, and stepped outside through the open bay window.
The cameras hidden in the walls and in the trees continued to follow him as he made his way in the forested area of the dome. He walked around for a few minutes, taking his time to enjoy the taste of his food and the smell of the flowers, before sitting down at the basis of a tree, right next to a small pond populated by a few fish. And all the footage they recorded afterward was of him simply sitting there, looking at the sky through the transparent dome while listening to his music.
But there are always things that a camera cannot see. A few days after first receiving the music device, Eighty-Three had accidently dropped it, causing the back plate to come loose. This revealed several ports that, at the time, he thought were not important. However, their shapes remained in the back of his head and the memory came back when he was handed the memory stick. After a few seconds of fiddling around in his pocket, Eighty-Three managed to pull the panel off again. Blindly, he looked for the port using only his fingers before popping the cap off the memory stick and plugging it in the music player. And after a few seconds, the latter vibrated.
Very carefully, he pulled the player out of his pocket, holding it in a way that prevented any kind of camera from seeing the memory drive sticking out of its back. At the same time, his heart started to beat faster as a curious excitement rose into his heart.
On the screen, text appeared. Text he had never seen before.
External storage detected
Scanning external drive for files
Scanning complete
.mp3 files detected on the external drive
Do you want to transfer those files to the internal memory?
YES NO
Eighty-Three moved his thumb next to the controls of the device, hovering a few millimeters over the validation button. A strange feeling had replaced the excitement, making him hesitate. By meeting with those living outside the plantation, he had put his head in the rabbit hole. And his answer to the question written on the screen was going to decide if he was going to fall down or not.
But what he was sure about was that he was not going to end up in a wonderland.
YES
Transfer initiated
Transfer in progress…..0%
Transfer in progress…..50%
Transfer in progress…..100%
Transfer finished. Enjoy your new titles
The text faded away and the screen returned to the page where all the titles where listed in alphabetical order. And now it looked nothing remotely close to what it was only a few minutes ago. Eighty-Three felt overwhelmed as he scrolled down the list, discovering names of songs and artists he had never heard of before.
At that point, he felt he had no other choice left other than pick a track randomly and discover what the music of the outside was like. And so, he pressed the selection button without truly seeing what he had picked. Instead, it was when the screen changed to display more information on the title currently playing that he discovered it.
"The Day That Never Comes. Metallica. Death Magnetic."
He whispered those words to himself, not knowing what they were supposed to mean, as notes started to play. They were played by what felt like a guitar with its sound modified to be higher and with a slight echo, following each other to create a basic melody that immediately caught Eighty-Three's attention. Then, after a few seconds, someone started to hit drums and another instrument added its distorted sound to the melody, playing longer notes that were complementing the first guitar. And while it continued for a few loops with small variations, he noticed that there was a fourth instrument, acting as a bass, playing alongside the drums.
He had never heard anything like this before. In fact he could not even tell if he had ever heard those kind of instruments before. But he was liking it. It was both soft enough to feel welcoming and distorted enough to feel mysterious.
And so he listened.
The two guitars were like fighting for attention at first, the distorted one playing shorter and faster notes while the other changed its melody and played alone for a few seconds. Then, the two merged to form what sounded like the main melody of the song.
And after a few loops, the voice of a man suddenly started to sing.
Born to push you around.
Better just stay down.
You pull away,
He hits the flesh,
You hit the ground.
Eighty-Three was completely taken aback when the first words reached his hears. In all the music he had ever listened too, he had never understood a single word coming the voices of the singers. In fact, he had always believed that singers were here to simply convey emotions with the tone of the sound coming out of their mouth, just like the regular instruments of the orchestra they always were with. But here, there was no large orchestra, no rise to the highest or the deepest possible notes a voice could make. It was just a man singing words that Eighty-Three could understand, just like if that man was reading a poem directly to him with a soft, warm and welcoming voice.
Mouth so full of lies,
Tend to black your eyes.
Just keep them closed,
Keep praying,
Just keep waiting.
In a very strange way, Eighty-Three related to the lyrics as he placed the words in his own personal context. With all his recent discoveries, he now doubted the truthfulness of all the words that came out of the mouths of all the adults he had ever talked to. And the only thing he could really do was sit down under a tree, waiting for his next orders and hoping that the people that lived outside were not discovered.
As he sung those last few words, the singer's voice became more intense, a little more like a scream, as the guitars regained their distorted sound and the drums started to be played more quickly.
Waiting for the one.
The day that never comes.
When you stand up and feel the warmth,
But the sunshine never comes.
No, the sunshine never comes.
The main melody returned, leaving Eighty-Three to ask himself a question. What was, for him, the day that never comes? Maybe it was the day when the all the humans could live outside the Mobile Settlements without fearing for their lives. Maybe it was the day when klaxosaurs would not be considered as humanity's eternal foe anymore. Or maybe it was the day when he would find the truth that Papa was hiding from them.
Push you cross that line,
Just stay down this time.
Hide in yourself,
Crawl in yourself,
You'll have your time.
God I'll make them pay.
Take it back one day.
I'll end this day,
I'll splatter color on this gray.
As the chorus played again, that last line stuck in his head. Maybe it was something he could do to bring a little more sense into his shaken life. But how exactly, he did not know yet. However, he was sure that by thinking about it, he would eventually find.
Waiting for the one.
The day that never comes.
When you stand up and feel the warmth,
But the sunshine never comes.
However, the music did not calm down at the end of the chorus. In fact, the repeated notes on the guitars and the drums were only announcing a sudden rise of intensity. The melody then changed again to someone different with a rhythm that was like jumping around.
Love is a four letter word,
And never spoken here.
Love is a four letter word,
Here in this prison.
I suffer this no longer,
I'll put an end to
This, I swear.
This, I swear
The sun will shine.
This, I swear,
This, I swear,
This, I swear!
At the end, the singer was using all of his voice. And even if Eighty-Three could only hear him, he was perfectly feeling all the emotion that the lyrics were carrying.
The guitars left their last distorted note hanging while the drums started to play faster. If the rise in intensity had been announced, now it was finally arriving. The guitars then joined in, in unison, with fast and powerful notes. But it did not last long as one detached itself from the other to play its own short fast melody, the rest of the band continuing with what they had been playing. He was still not really sure what kinds of instruments were being played, but it was perfectly clear that this part was here to showcase the skills of the player. And then, after the last minutes of fast and intense music, it stopped, leaving Eighty-Three completely speechless. He quickly pressed the play button to prevent another song from following.
He could only realize that his heartbeat had become way faster and his breathing was louder. In fact, he was almost shivering and out of breath because of a kind of thrill he had never lived before. And he was liking it.
It took him a few seconds of silence to put his mind back into place. He could not find any words to describe what he had felt, but he clearly wanted to feel it more and pressed the play button again.
And so, losing all sense of time, he listened to many other new tracks, discovering everything along the way. Part of them were fast and intense, others were slow and calm while some combined the two. Sometimes, he would understand the singer clearly and sometimes he would not. And wide was the spectrum of emotions depicted by those songs. All the music that had been handed to him by Frederic was like a sea he was slowly drowning in without any complaint.
But suddenly, someone threw a life jacket at him to bring him back on the shore, and this life jacket took the form of his communicator ringing and vibrating.
He pulled the device out of his pocket and turned the screen on, slightly annoyed by the fact that it pulled him back to reality. But after reading the text message he had received, he was not feeling annoyed anymore.
One message by: Officer Emidova
"URGENT. Come to the briefing room. We must talk."
"Oh no…"
Welcome and thank you for reading the second chapter of Discoveries.
As this chapter is posted alongside the first chapter, I don't have really anything to add. I'm just going to say that I really want music to play a great role in this story.
Anyway, see you in a few months when I'll publish chapter three.