A/N I don't own Skyland.
So sorry for the delay - Here's the longest chapter yet! I really hope you like it. Don't forget to review!
"What's happening? What's that noise?" Moaned the half-asleep figure of a girl slouched against the glass window. She had just been tersely awakened by an incessant bleeping noise emanating from the control panel; the radar screen seemed responsible, for it pulsed for a moment with white light, which refracted against the glossy interior of the cockpit.
Mila hoped the noise would simply fade away, but alas, it persisted. She groaned impatiently and opened her eyes.
Her eyelashes fluttered and she stared at her own, confused reflection in the window for a moment. And then, like a film unrolling before her eyes with intense rapidity, the memories of the previous day rushed through her mind. She tensed and sat upright, her eyes flickering about wildly to take in her surroundings; all the while rubbing the right side of her face, which had grown numb.
The bleeping noise subsided abruptly as a hand flitted across the controls. It was Marcus, looking groggy and unenthusiastic, but awake.
"What's going on?" Mila demanded edgily.
It was evident by the young pirate's expression that he had just woken up; his hair was untidy and his eyes were only just half opened. She felt a revolting stab of anger as she watched him. She could almost hear the echoes of his thoughts still lingering in the air; the previous argument was fresh and clear in her mind.
You're a traitor... You can't be trusted...
"It's just the radar." Marcus grunted, seemingly oblivious to her glare.
The radar? Mila leaned over to peer at the radar screen as well, but stopped mid-movement, for even this simple gesture made her sore muscles sear with dull, throbbing pain, causing Marcus to steal a quick, inquiring glance in her direction. It was at this moment that Mila became horribly aware of herself. Her excursion through the Academy had left her aching, starving and thirsty. The twisted knot that was her stomach was painful indeed, but tolerable compared to this thirst. For the first time ever, Mila realized that she had no water on demand, nothing to quench this terrible feeling… Her hand shifted instinctively to her belt and grasped thin air where a water bottle should have been clipped. Of course, she thought miserably, hers and Marcus's water bottles had been lost somewhere at the Academy along with their old clothes. She had known this but had forgotten obviously, for she was absent-minded and still dazed from sleep.
Her mouth set in a tight line and her eyes narrowed because of this amalgam of pain but she complained not; she certainly didn't want to look weak and miserable in front of Marcus, not now. She would be strong and independent; she would not let him know what degree of anguish his words had caused.
And now Mila found herself in an inside turmoil of anger, injustice and guilt; she felt responsible - she felt innocent. She was not to blame! Although, she had been rather careless, leaving a blue energy trail to follow...
There could be no right or wrong in this situation, she realised, it had been a mistake. It had been an enormous mistake. Everything. The fugitives' eyes met for a fragment of a second before Mila leaned forwards, her arm brushing slightly against his, and looked down at the circular, shimmering orange screen on the control panel.
They were a mistake.
The seijin's mind cleared and her eyes widened with surprise. There, on the radar screen, was pictured an unidentified mass directly ahead of the icon representing the Hyperion. It was a dense cloud. A cloud consisting of drifting junk; veils of debris were common enough through Skyland. A ship like the Hyperion could easily avoid such cumbersome air currents of course, the passengers were in no immediate danger. As if on cue, the patter of pebbles and small rocks tapped lightly against the cockpit window, deflecting off the hull like hail in a gust of wind. It looked like a shower of gleaming, micro-meteorites; the diminutive stones glinted in the thick blackness as they assaulted the ship, their polished surfaces reflected the distorted winks of the few remaining pale stars.
Marcus gave the joystick a sharp jerk to the left, the Hyperion drifted gracefully through the obscure sky and floated away from the pebbly, grey-streaked air current. The vessel twirled once and continued forwards, following the same directional path with persistence.
They flew on for a long while without speaking; Mila stared outside. As she watched, dark blotches began appearing here and there in the sky; outlines of metallic debris and rocky ruins. Whatever patch of Skyland they were flying through was littered with wreckage. The shapes seemed to mold and blur into humanoid spectres, they then took the form of enemy ships. Ice chips of fear formed in the pit of her stomach. Her feverish mind was constructing illusions - this was not a good sign, she presumed.
By now, the dim, misty air emitted a pale hue of brightness; dawn was approaching. As the dark sky lightened, a gruesome sight met their eyes.
Hundreds of rubble fragments drifted in every direction; they tarnished the cloudy sky like droplets of mud. A fusion of cinder blocks twirled lazily overhead; a twisted lamppost lay in a jumbled heap across a slab of stone.
As they raced onward, one of the floating debris captured Mila's attention; a crumbling stack of cement still held a rusted green, square shaped traffic sign which's inscription was just readable under the meagre light of advancing dawn. A white arrow could be recognized pointing upwards; underneath this pictogram, were worn out white letters; N.Y.C. The rest of the sign was obscured by thick grime. Soon the ancient, otherworldly sign transformed into the feeble imprint of a shadow and was swallowed by the thick mist once more, as the Hyperion soared away, manoeuvring through the shrapnel filled sky with ease.
It looked like a war zone, or some kind of dumpsite... What were they doing here? Mila thought anxiously. Surely this could not be where the neutral block Marcus had promised was situated? Her thoughts were swept away at this moment however, for a massive shape had just emerged from the sky overhead.
The mass composed of rusty pipelines, grey bricks and dangling wires. Ruins. Once a city thriving with life, now deserted wreckage filled with rubble. The outlines of the many buildings were dark in contrast to the misty sky behind them; some edifices were even rooted upside down, seemingly growing out of the cloudy heavens. The city spread out across the horizon, like a great muddy barrier; and the Hyperion sped straight for it.
"Where are we heading?" Mila demanded, trying to sound indifferent despite the wall of decay emerging from the gloom.
Marcus looked at her for a second; Mila felt a twinge of unease as his eyes flickered downwards.
"We're- We're almost there."
"Marcus... " She said, her voice trembled slightly; using his name seemed to rouse him from his thoughts. The seijin at least wanted a rough sense of direction; she did not appreciate having limited information. Besides, she needed to organise her ideas for the coming arrival to the neutral block. "Where are we going?" She asked again, this time with insistence.
He pondered for a second. "Forward." He said finally, but Mila wasn't at all satisfied by his answer. She briefly considered demanding for more information but thought it better to save her words; her throat felt like sandpaper at the moment.
The vessel entered the city and disappeared down a misty, streetless path. The inside of the cockpit darkened dramatically. Grey, rotting buildings loomed upwards and disappeared into the mist. Their shattered windows were menacing and pallid, like lifeless eyes; an old vehicle shell hung precariously from black electricity wires overhead, it swayed creakily in the dry breeze.
Death. That's what Mila sensed, almost smelled in the dusty air. It clung to her skin, entered her lungs... She could almost feel the rush of hopelessness and terror of when this city would have dislocated from the earth.
Mila felt uncomfortable with the whole situation, but decided that Marcus would not betray their agreement. She hoped desperately that this was just some short cut to get to the neutral block. The latter option was not desirable at all. That he would abandon her in such a wasteland was unthinkable. Of course not, she was jumping to conclusions.
How long they flew through this grey labyrinth, Mila could not tell; it could have been a matter of minutes... or even hours. Marcus seemed to know where he was going; the ship sped gracefully along, twirling down passages without hesitation while the ex-guardian's feeling of discomfort augmented. However, she was so very exhausted that she had no strength to keep prodding Marcus with pointless questions; he knew their destination and she would be forced to trust him.
Before long, the Hyperion performed a sideways helix and snuck its way between two leaning rubble walls; suddenly, hazy, feeble brightness coated the air, and an open area came into view. It was a large square with, miraculously, still intact streets; although, the cement roads were spotted with sink holes and fissures. The tall buildings lining the square were stagnant and intimidating. An old advertisement plastered on a corroded notice board flapped and rustled in the mist. The most peculiar aspects of the location however, were the strangely shaped beams of light filtering from above. These patches of light zigzagged along the brick walls; they crisscrossed endlessly through the air.
Mila looked up. Aloft, there floated the strangest occurrence she had ever set eyes on; it was all trees. Trees speckled large, rectangular stone pieces which hovered over the city; the light of dawn filtering through their branches was casting the eerie lighting onto the urban sprawl. Their gnarled roots grasped and pierced the thick stone slabs and curled downwards.
It was a wicked sight, almost nightmarish.
Soon, the ship sped down another streetless path on the right and headed towards the edge of a black metallic walkway sandwiched between two brown buildings.
The Hyperion decelerated and hovered to a neat stop next to the metal walkway; clouds of dust spiralled upwards. The hum of engines subsided and was followed by a deep, strained silence in which Mila heard her heart beat thumping loudly in her ears. Surely Marcus could hear it... She glanced at the pilot but he did not meet her eyes. This made Mila even more anxious – and angry. She hoped, for his sake, that he hadn't gone back on his promise.
Her worst suspicions were answered however, for at this moment, the cockpit hatch opened with a hiss and the dusty air snuck its way inside the cockpit; Mila suppressed a cough. Marcus sat there, immobile and somewhat pale; with his slight ever-present frown and downcast eyes, Mila thought he looked rather worried.
For a moment, the atmosphere was heavy and dormant until Mila finally plucked up the strength to ask it.
"Is this my final stop?" She asked tentatively, keeping a calm, casual tone of voice.
Marcus nodded grimly.
It was a heavy blow, it was as if the air was knocked clean out of her lungs – she couldn't speak, whisper or breathe. The crushing sadness of it all destabilized her. The girl simply sat there, feeling rather foolish – she should have known better than to trust a pirate; it was true that the Sphere was malevolent of course... But perhaps the pirates themselves weren't any better in the end.
"Come on." He said more loudly; Mila felt her eyes sting.
He waited for her to stand and exit the cockpit before following; as a precaution no doubt, he certainly wouldn't want her taking off with his precious ship and leaving him here instead. Mila had no choice; it was still too sombre to use her powers and she was too weak to try anything. She clambered out rather clumsily as she was so stiff and sore. The seijin shuffled forwards and took a look around; it was a very morose place indeed, it glittered with old cobwebs and pieces of ancient trash; and it was cold, with only a mere white imprint of dawn permeating the deep mist.
The first realisation that hit Mila as she stood onto the Hyperion's front hull, was the silence. There was no noise whatsoever. A rusted pipe protruding from the brick wall on the right dangled with large silvery webs which rippled in stillness; a spider dropped slowly downwards on a silken strand.
Mila couldn't understand. She couldn't comprehend why Marcus had bothered feeding her lies about a neutral block if his intention had been to abandon her here. To keep her quiet perhaps, so that she wouldn't cause a struggle in the Hyperion?
She glanced his way: he stood there, clad in a tattered Sphere uniform, with his hands in his pants pockets, absently kicking a piece of crumbled brick off the hull. She had been blind! She couldn't avoid the truth; he was leaving her here!
"I know this isn't a neutral block." Mila declared abruptly, her fists clenched; her voice sounded controlled and menacing despite her tingling eyes.
Marcus froze and stared; "You know what this place is?" He asked. He sounded nervous.
"Of course." She snapped. He was insulting her intelligence. She met his eyes while a silent pause stretched; they stood about two metres away from each other now, looking like two, bloodied agents of the Sphere. The spider overhead was dangling metres from Mila's head. "It's a wasteland." She said, her voice quivering slightly. "It's Sphere worthy, what you're doing... leaving me to die on some deserted block..."
He stared at her blankly. "What? Leaving you to die?... Mila that's-"
"I can't believe you!" She yelled suddenly, the emotions bursting out. Her voice echoed infinitively through the ghost city.
Marcus just stood there, his bloodied face devoid of emotion except for his dark eyes which were wide with surprise.
"It is my own fault for trusting a pirate… But I won't make the same mistake again, I promise you." She snarled.
There was a pause, Marcus took a deep breath. "Listen - just let me explain..." He started; he simultaneously noticed the particularly large spider now suspended centimeters from Mila's head.
"I just - I can't believe you were trying to make me feel guilty about everything… I told you already that I hadn't betrayed you! But you wouldn't hear of it, oh no, you were too stubborn to accept the truth! And look who the traitor is after all – it's you! You're the traitor for going back on our promise!"
"Mila..."
"What!"
"There's a spider on your head." He said very casually.
Mila stood there vacantly; and then realism hit. A s-spider on her head?
She gasped and her hands flew upwards, dishevelling her hair into a loose and tangled mass as she tried frantically to shake off the spider. Marcus watched her, his eyes narrowed with amusement for a moment, but this expression disappeared all too quickly, to be replaced by a blank, faraway tiredness that did not suit him at all. When she was done, Mila straightened up and swiped her loose black hair backwards, trying to look calm and dignified despite her reddened cheeks.
"Now where was I-" She started before noticing that his eyes were once again drifting away from hers. "What? Is it still in my hair?" She asked, looking scared; her composed poise shattered in an instant.
"No."
Mila sighed with relief.
"Actually," he smiled slightly, "It's on your forehead."
This time Mila yelped and swatted the spider away; the arachnid rolled on the hull and scurried off. She shivered, feeling a nauseous combination of embarrassment and fury as she ruffled her hair once more. This is when she heard a strange echo; rhythmic thumping, almost like boots on hard metal…
The girl parted a curtain of dark hair to peer forwards.
There was a flash of orange.
The outline of a ghostly figure was just visible down the misty walkway; it drew closely nearer, its footsteps echoing with a metallic twinge. Mila stepped backwards and gasped, thinking instantly of undead corpses that had perished with the city; Marcus stood and watched.
The figure emerged from the shadows; it was a young man with a sturdy physique, straight shoulders and a shock of orange hair. He was wearing a brown jacket, patched dark trousers and heavy, muddy boots. Mila gaped in bewilderment, stunned; her mouth a comical 'O'.
For a moment, the man lifted a weapon in their direction but then he narrowed his brown eyes and lowered it rapidly.
"Well?" the stranger demanded angrily, looking between Marcus and Mila. "What the hell is this?"
A flock of pigeons flapped noisily overhead, hooting softly.
"Is that the welcome I get after two weeks Aran?" Marcus asked, annoyed.
Mila stood aside, her eyes darting between the two of them, comprehension dawning on her face. She understood now, this couldn't be just a wasteland…
"That's just it Farrell." Aran advanced angrily, when he spoke, it was with a Scottish accent. "It's been two weeks. How could you take off for two weeks! We thought you were dead!"
Marcus shrugged tiredly. "I ran into trouble." He said. Mila could have sworn he glanced her way briefly when he said this.
"I'll say." Said another voice carrying the same accent. There was one more flash of orange and another young man emerged; the new arrival was slimmer and taller than the first, but they looked so much alike that Mila immediately concluded that they were brothers. "Marcus, what happened to yeh? You look terrible."
Marcus forced a laugh. "Yeah Christophe... I'm alright though, thanks for asking." He said, his voice laden with sarcasm and anger.
Christophe's mouth curled into a smirk.
"What're you doing in sphere uniform?" Aran demanded, still looking furious.
"Oh, leave him be Aran." Christophe sighed exasperatingly. "Didn't I say you were worrying for nothing… Didn't I say he would be back?" He pushed roughly past his brother and joined Marcus on the Hyperion's hull.
Marcus and Christophe shook hands and clapped each other on the back; Mila watched, incredulous at the way they greeted each other. She'd never seen anything like it; people greeted each other with curt nods in the Sphere world. She felt odd now, out of place.
"Been having problems with the Hyperion's radio, eh? We couldn't contact you at all; but when we were alerted of the Hyperion's presence on the radar half an hour ago, we decided to meet up with you here…" Christophe said, trailing off and staring at Mila with an eyebrow raise.
Aran sighed as he stomped after Christophe and onto the Hyperion's hull, which was level with the metal walkway, and then he shook Marcus's hand. "Nice to have yeh back." He finally said, smiling. The brothers looked slightly older than she was; Mila guessed they must have been around two to three years older than herself – Marcus, she supposed, couldn't be far behind them.
"And who is this?" Christophe asked, gazing at a still bewildered-looking Mila.
Marcus scratched the back of his head. "She-"
"Allow me to introduce myself," interrupted Christophe, talking directly to Mila, "I am an expert in navigation, a master of mechanics, and a negotiator extraordinaire. My name is Christophe Mandiez Theodore Cortes. But you..." He winked. "Can call me-"
"Chris…" Aran moaned tiredly, yanking his brother backwards. Christophe staggered out of the way, insulted. "What's your name?" Aran demanded briskly, Mila was taken aback by his brusqueness.
"Her name's Mila." Marcus interrupted uneasily.
"I can introduce myself, thank you…" Mila snapped angrily, casting Marcus a fierce look.
"You brought her along… Is she a refugee?" Aran asked.
"Something like that…" Marcus muttered.
"Can we trust her?" He asked openly, still staring at her, a little too close for comfort. The seijin girl exhaled noisily and crossed her arms with annoyance. She hated how they spoke about her so plainly while she stood and watched.
"If Marcus brought her along, then of course we can trust her Aran!" Christophe exclaimed before winking at Mila again.
"Well then," muttered Aran in a less angered voice, his gaze softened; "You both look like you've been to war. What happened?" He asked.
"It's a long story." Marcus sighed.
Marcus began recounting the Hyperion's troubles on Babylonia and Christophe leaned forwards with interest; he talked strictly of the ship, not once did he mention Mila. The seijin's anxiety was gradually fading and being replaced by boiling anger.
"You didn't need to wait so long for the ship to recharge." Christophe explained when Marcus was finished, "You just had to transfer the remaining energy to the rear propulsers to get instant liftoff-"
"Yeah, I know. I tried to do this the following morning, when the fuel cells were almost refilled…"
"And?... It didn't work?" The orange-haired pirate asked, reading Marcus's expression.
"The ship's never let me down before now." Marcus noted, looking at the hull with something like concern.
Mila rolled her eyes.
"Well it's a Sphere prototype – The ship would've faulted sooner or later; it'll need some modifications." Christophe stated with a sort of finality.
More footsteps could be heard approaching now as Marcus and Christophe discussed. Soon, three more people materialized from the metal walkway, looking surprised. One tall man noticed Marcus and his expression hardened with apparent disappointment. A slender woman with long hair seemed calmly interested. The last person was a slim young man with silky dark hair and kind eyes. He hurried forwards to join Marcus and the rest on the Hyperion.
"Farrell!" He exclaimed happily, smiling broadly and revealing a set of perfect, gleaming white teeth. He was wearing a light charcoal coloured jacket and rather baggy looking grey pants which had been untidily stuffed into green boots; a pair of green goggles hung at his neck.
Marcus cut short his conversation with Christophe to meet the newcomer while Mila stood aside, still in shock. She caught the stranger's name as they shook hands briskly: Xihan.
"You don't look so good…" Xihan noticed coolly.
Marcus shook his head slightly, looking fairly annoyed now. "I've been better." He conceded after a pause.
Aran and Xihan exchanged a quick, quizzical glance as if both wondering what had happened. The woman on the walkway contented herself with a curt nod in Marcus's direction as a welcome. "Farrell." She said calmly, her eyes drifting over the group of people on the pointed, red and grey ship. The man on her left remained silent and unreadable.
"And this is...?" the woman asked haughtily.
"Mila." The girl snapped angrily, meeting the stranger's unwavering gaze without hesitation.
"So..." Xihan said, at a feeble attempt of wanting to lighten the rigid atmosphere. "The radar alerted us of the Hyperion's presence exactly thirty-five minutes ago. It had been days since your disappearance and we couldn't locate your ship you see, and I'd suspected that you were too great a distance away for contact. So, I went to work and enlarged the scanning radius on the central computer, and we were to be immediately alerted if... When the Hyperion ever found itself within ten miles of this place..." The young man spoke very fast, but with a tone which hinted intelligence and careful planning, as if his mind was busy deciphering thousands of scientific equations at once.
"Yeah. We'd just returned from a water retrieval mission when we were notified of the Hyperion's arrival." Christophe said and Xihan nodded.
Aran, who had been silent and serious up till now, stared from Mila to Marcus gravely. "We thought you had disappeared for good Farrell… We hadn't seen yeh since the attack on that water convoy two weeks ago - it was chaos, the Sphere's reinforcements were pouring in... We lost sight of the Hyperion, retreated and left. We had no choice. And when you didn't show yourself after days... Well- The point is, I took over while you were gone."
"That's... That's fine." Marcus said, though there was clear hesitation in his voice.
Aran shook his head, looking tired. "First it was Greenwood and then it was you. We still don't know what happened to that kid…"
"He's dead." Mila mentioned automatically. She saw the brigadier's gun barrel ignite once more; heard a loud crack! reverberate through the Academy auditorium and, with disgust, remembered the scarlet pool of blood growing on the floor...
All heads turned towards her. Everyone was staring, seemingly noticing her presence with surprise. The two strangers on the dock stopped murmuring to each other and fell silent with shock.
The terrible silence stretched out until Aran spoke up. "How do you know this?" He asked suspiciously.
"I…" Mila caught Marcus's eyes; he shook his head the slightest bit. The girl blanched with worry but carried on. "I saw it."
"What does she mean, she saw it?" Murmured Xihan to Christophe who looked as equally surprised.
Mila's throat clenched as the assembly of rebels rustled and shifted with whispers. Perhaps, she should have kept her mouth shut…
The strangers on the metal walkway joined them on the Hyperion's hull; Mila was surrounded, behind her there was the cockpit and after that, the empty mist.
"Well?" The broad-shouldered man on Mila's left growled. He had olive skin, light brown eyes and trimmed dark hair, he seemed to be in his mid-twenties; Mila could see the muscles bulging underneath his already loosely fitted brown jacket which's sleeves were dark crimson. His face was covered in nasty, whitish scars… "Speak up!" He snarled.
"He- He was killed at the Guardian Academy…" Mila stuttered nervously. The rebels stared at her blankly; Marcus looked over the other pirates with apprehension. "I think he just- He tried to come r-rescue his sister but-" Her voice died as the nameless man on her left glared at her; she saw his hand graze against the gun holstered on his belt. The woman's eyes narrowed threateningly; an array of various knifes glinted noticeably around her waist. Mila had to force herself into a neutral expression - but her heart was beating frantically against her ribs, like a frenzied bird trying to escape from its cage.
"Wait a minute – the Guardian School? What was she doing there Farrell?" Aran asked in alarm.
Marcus wanted to say something convincing, but what came out sounded something like; "Er…"
"I know what's going on here..." Christophe said nonchalantly, staring at Mila. "Farrell brought us a guardian."
There was a strained, dangerous silence.
"Ex-guardian." Marcus corrected.
Aran looked furious. "What were you thinking!"
"You brought the Sphere to our hiding base!" The nameless man shouted.
"She's not with the Sphere anymore De la Vega." Marcus said, looking angry. The tension between the two men was evident. "Look, I know what I'm doing!" the young pirate added over the commotion.
"I don't think you understand what you're up against Farrell -" De la Vega said, before turning towards the other rebels. "He's too reckless to lead a rebel group."
"He's the one who established this hideout in the first place." Xihan pointed out serenely.
"And now he's gone and ruined it!" De la Vega exclaimed.
Marcus started towards the man but Xihan held him back.
Mila inched backwards now, suddenly frightened by all these unfriendly faces. She was gripped by the urge to run away, hide, escape from these people. The situation was growing dangerous...
"Enough!" Aran cried. "She can explain herself-"
"Cortes you know as well as I do that guardians lie through their teeth! She's seen too much already!"
The man lunged forwards and grabbed Mila's arm, his grip tightened around the piece of bloody fabric on her lower arm and he pulled her aside so roughly that she nearly fell over. Mila gasped in pain and struggled.
"Let go of me!" She exclaimed furiously; Marcus, half-submerged by the crowd of rebels, looked livid.
"Don't touch her!" Marcus yelled, his outburst uncontainable as he wrenched his arm free of Xihan's grasp.
"We can't take any chances! We'll have to get rid of her, it's the only way to ensure the safety of the resistance-" De la Vega carried on, inadvertently twisting the seijin's arm at an odd angle so that Mila had to bite her lip to avoid a yelp of pain.
"Wait!" Xihan exclaimed hurriedly. "We're jumping to conclusions here…"
"I agree with Xihan." said the woman. She was very beautiful; her long hair was of a mahogany colour which gleamed in the cool air of dawn; and her voice was soft, smooth, clear of any emotion. "She can provide us with useful information…" She paused and met De la Vega's eyes. "Then we can dispose of her."
Mila eyes widened with panic.
"That's not what I meant!" Xihan shouted.
"Settle down everyone!" Aran yelled.
The argument pursued, Marcus was pulling away from the rebels. The first sunbeam of daylight split the foggy air; it shone upon the pirate assembly.
A feeling of rejuvenation overtook Mila as the warm sunlight coated her face; the seijin's eyes flashed brightest blue.
"I said... LET GO!" Mila screamed.
There was a loud, crackling whip-like noise and a flash of blue light; De la Vega was thrown backwards. He landed on the hull in a sitting position, looking shocked, his hair slightly scorched.
The trickle of blue light around Mila's hands evaporated - and so did the short-lived feeling of elation caused by her momentary refill of seijin energy.
Everyone was staring at her now. The silence was murderous; what she had just done was an irretrievable mistake.
But then, the strangest feeling took hold of her... It was as if the world was spinning, spiralling out of focus; she staggered slightly as she felt a rushing sensation of weakness; it was all she could do to stay in balance, she could not fight anymore, she just stood there feeling pathetic. She hadn't refilled her seijin energy, she had captured a moment of brilliant sunlight and expended it immediately, using her meager resources of force left in the process. The result? She wanted nothing more than to let herself fall into the sweet, lonely darkness which was slowly misting over her eyes... No... No. Mila would not allow it. She would not look pitiable in front of these... these rogues.
The sounds grew dim and muffled in her ears; even the chorus of loud voices reverberating against the brick walls seemed muted now.
Mila's assailant was already on his feet; a hand on his weapon. Marcus by now had disengaged from the group of outlaws and blocked the pirate's way. De la Vega tried to push past him but Marcus gave him a shove; the man stopped, his eyes blazed dangerously. They stood in front of each other now, eyes level.
"She's with me. Stand down." Marcus warned, and it was clear by the calmness in his voice that he was furious.
De la Vega gritted his teeth, his eyes lingered over Marcus who was slimmer than he was; not to mention bloodied.
"That's an order." Marcus snarled.
They glared at each other until Aran came between them to break up what would surely become a fight.
"Enough you two." He said, trying to distance them both.
Marcus looked back at Mila; the seijin's eyes expressed a mix of confusion and aversion. She was so angry with him at the moment… that he had brought her along without her knowing, without her consent... It was despicable.
Aran grabbed the shoulder of Marcus's grey jacket to steady him, for he seemed paler than before, the confrontation seeping him of his strength.
"Infirmary." Aran growled as he pulled Marcus's right arm over his shoulders.
"Never mind-" Marcus protested but Xihan took his other arm anyways; sure enough, he swayed alarmingly.
"Both of them." Aran added impatiently, ignoring Marcus and glancing at Mila.
"I'm on it." Christophe said immediately.
There was a split second where Mila and Marcus's eyes met. And the boy with the dark eyes; the young man who had guided her away from the Sphere, looked at her expectantly. He was waiting for a sign of some sort, but Mila remained impassive and silent as she clutched her injured arm. She felt no regret for the blank stare expressed in her sapphire blue eyes. The blank stare of blue which communicated everything and nothing.
"No, I- Mila, she…" Marcus muttered, his eyes retreating from her gaze.
"We'll take care of it." Xihan said, casting a meaningful glare at De la Vega.
This was the moment then, the moment where Marcus and Mila were to be separated, taken apart after supporting each other towards the ultimate goal that was survival. It was a strong bond that was hard to break, even if they lacked trust, these two had relied on their union. Mila felt a twist of panic at the thought of him leaving, though she knew not why. There was a pause of reluctance, but then Marcus walked away drunkenly, supported by Aran and Xihan; they clambered off the Hyperion and soon their figures dissipated through the mist along with their voices.
Marcus was gone. And Mila was alone again. She had always been alone she realised, Marcus had been her first true... friend? - and now he would be the last. She didn't know how to trust anymore. Her so-called Academy friends had turned against her in a heartbeat - Oslo had been cruel and possessive towards her and she felt her insides shrivel for a moment with... was that fear? Was she truly scared of the scrawny blond boy, who's grey eyes had always perhaps, hidden such hate and greed? She knew only that she never wanted to see him again; he was, at the same time, a reminder of her youthful idiocy, to have even contemplated ruling the world was a dangerous memory, which would undoubtedly plague her mind for years to come.
She lifted her eyes, taking herself away from these feverish thoughts.
Mila saw the woman with the long mahogany hair lag behind before striding off in the same direction as well, she cast the ex-guardian one last look of contempt and vanished.
Now it was only Christophe, Mila and De la Vega. There stretched a long silence.
"This is a mistake." De la Vega commented, standing aside, his energy gun hung loosely from his hand. "You can't trust the Sphere."
"I'm not the Sphere!" Mila said, and her voice remained clear and strong despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside. "Not anymore." Her hands glowed a nearly non-existent blue for a second; she was so accustomed to violence nowadays, that it came naturally. It was more a manifestation of her anger than anything else; she knew she had no energy to fight.
In response however, De la Vega lifted his weapon. The girl's heart skipped a beat.
"Easy." Christophe warned, his eyes flitting from one to the other.
"She's dangerous... And we're expected to just let her run free?"
Mila felt a bubble of searing fury expanding inside her ribcage - they weren't even giving her the chance to explain anything!
"Just lower your weapon..." Christophe sighed wearily. "Need I remind you that you're disobeying a direct order." Even as he said those words, Christophe's expression tensed, as if following orders wasn't necessarily in his primary beliefs. Mila suspected that the young man was being formal in his words to protect her - why, she could not understand.
"A direct order?" De la Vega scoffed. "Farrell is young and foolish; he knows not what he is doing. Such filth should not be allowed to enter the resistance so easily."
Mila stayed immobile, her hands however were trembling with anger; she was so exhausted that she momentarily considered disappearing into the mist behind her.
"This is mutinous behaviour." Christophe observed, looking more annoyed than angry.
The tall man had opened his mouth to retort but when a voice echoed on the walls, it wasn't his.
"For heaven's sake! What – is – this – commotion?" Asked a yet unknown voice: someone else had arrived on the walkway. The stranger paused and stared at the scene with shock; he noticed the furious looking girl with loose black hair and cobalt blue eyes, standing on the Hyperion's hull.
"... Mila?" He asked confusedly.
Time had stopped, the only audible sound was her own name, echoing forever, held in a sort of everlasting limbo in the hazy mist. Her name, Mila, echoed from a stranger who somehow, knew her...
Mila fidgeted, this newfound distraction giving her strenght of curiosity. She tried to look over the pirate's shoulder, but the tall man was blocking her view. What newcomer could know her name? How could this be possible?
"Cease at once!" the voice ordered, and a man stepped forwards. He was in his late forties; he had salt-and-pepper hair, ice blue eyes and he wore a dusty lab coat. "Responding with such animosity is worthy of the Sphere." He said.
De la Vega grunted with annoyance and lowered his weapon. "She'll ruin us." He said simply. And then he took off as well, muttering to himself. Mila exhaled with relief.
"Are you alright?" The stranger asked, still standing on the walkway; Mila stared at him with confusion.
She did not know him, he looked as unfamiliar as the rest of the rebels; however, his kind, icy eyes did reassure her somewhat.
"Yes." She said hesitatingly, but found that she couldn't say it very loudly.
Christophe looked at her and his careless expression faltered; the older man looked serious.
"She's injured." He said, his eyes fixed on Mila's bloody forearm; the girl looked downwards. Sure enough, droplets of blood rolled down her trembling hand and dropped onto the hull with a steady drip-drip-drip.
"Oh." She said, looking surprised.
"I know Vector," said Christophe, "I'm taking her to the infirmary right now, De la Vega got in the way."
"That man…" Vector said, "Is a brute."
"Not his fault," replied Christophe, "last survivor from his home block he was. The whole village was burnt to the ground."
Mila didn't have to guess who was responsible for the fire.
Christophe held out his hand. "You can't stay here." He added with an eyebrow raise.
Mila did not move; she stared at the older man with confusion.
"How do you know my name?" She asked faintly, still unmoving. Christophe too, looked puzzled at this.
"This- this information can wait." The man said, as Mila swayed in place; Christophe took her right hand. The young man helped her carefully off the hull and they walked slowly away. Mila was too weak to struggle or argue so she followed jadedly, what else could she do? If she struggled, then would they decide to kill her? Would they... would they hurt her? No. Marcus would never let that happen... would he? Either way, it was better to play it safe for now, she had to follow along, docile and calm. The ex-guardian was rather scared but her tiredness overcome her fear - she had been through so much in the last twenty-four hours.
Mila glanced back: the stranger had already disappeared. The thick mist smothered the Hyperion from view as the two made their way down the walkway.
She felt ill at ease, leaning on a pirate for support, wandering into the misty depths of the crumbling city. It was hard to suppress an inward urge for violence towards this person, after all these years of training at the Academy... It was confusing that, unlike the stereotyped cruel rebels presented at School, he was actually helping her. Just like Marcus had helped her. It would have been much easier to kill her, as De la Vega had implied, but it seemed to most pirates, that this option was unacceptable. Marcus, she had trusted him however, and he had been secretive and sly - this time she would not let her guard down so easily around pirates. She knew not who to trust.
Mila did not quite remember what happened next; she had a vague recollection of walking along the deserted city for a while, turning down dark walkways and alleys. Christophe talked but she did not listen – she was too bewildered by the turn of events to pay much attention. She was busy wondering who this man, this Vector could possibly be. How did he know her name? It was all very strange.
After what seemed like an eternity, they stood in front a battered looking set of doors that led into a medium sized, brick building. The doors swung open and they stepped into a small dusty lobby. Mila paused for a second, her eyes lingering over the faintly glowing light bulbs linked by a black wire on the low ceiling before they climbed a flight of stairs. The elevators, she supposed, had not worked for years and years.
They stopped on the third floor and stood in front of another door; the same, pale lights fizzed faintly along the cramped corridor's ceiling. Christophe opened the door and Mila entered. It was a small apartment, which had evidently been renovated and cleaned by the rebels to create a livable area. It was quite small; this main room had a window in the back, an assortment of mismatched, spindly tables and a small bed.
Her eyes drifted across the small room; there was a door on the right which she guessed lead to a bathroom. The window on the other extremity of the room had been boarded up from the outside so that only faint strips of sunlight entered, eddies of dust swirled in the gaps of light. This looked nothing like an infirmary - medical centres were supposed to be bright, white and gleaming. She supposed these pirates had to manage with the few usable locations they had found.
Christophe said something which, she once again, ignored as she drifted inside. She sat on the bed, where she attempted pulling off her boots but soon abandoned trying and collapsed face-first on the bed, quite indifferent to being rude or looking silly (and she was probably being both).
Nothing mattered now but the fact that there was a soft bed and she was exhausted.
The door closed with a quiet click! Mila inhaled the sweet smell of freshly laundered drapes. Maybe if she fell asleep, she would forget about how thirsty, hungry and sore she actually was.
Perhaps, she would wake up and this would all have been a terrible nightmare. Yes, it was a nightmare.
It had to be.
A/N Xihan: Cheng's father. That's his actual name, I found this information on a valid french website. Cheng's mother was nameless so I took the character with most description available.
De la Vega: A name mentioned in the 'Red Rock People' episode - there's an old transmission of Marcus who's shouting out names; "... get to station 9... De la Vega, where are the reinforcements {...}" I created a character with the name.
The hideout?: New York City. That's where Mahad and Lena first find the Hyperion, I figured it was appropriate since many Skyland timelines indicate that Mila and Marcus travel accross several blocks before settling a main rebel base. Marcus did really establish this hideout, Cortes himself says so. "Your father chose this block as a hideout because it was always hidden by fog, aye he was a clever man."
And yes, I did my research.
I actually worked hard on this chapter, to fit the all elements into place as perfectly as possible... Please review generously, your opinion is important. How does Vector fit into all this? Hmm, you'll just have to keep reading...