Death. Nothing more, nothing less, and it was all to be seen for miles about. See, nobody likes it when you meddle, especially with important things. It disrupts their thinking patterns, life, and many other things. Of course, who’s to say I care about them. I’d no sooner shed a tear than give a rats ass about others. Its been that way for a long time, longer than I care to remember. Typically the only thing I remember from my past is my name, and where I came from. So if you’re looking for some answers, you’d be asking the wrong fellow.
Theres a war going on, but to me it seems nobody knows what they’re really fighting for. Like a rat in a maze without cheese, pointless and time consuming. Then again, people tend to favor wasting large amounts of time on simple tasks and activities. Which is reasonable, but questionable. As you may be wondering, who is this seemingly mentally unstable being talking to you. Is it your mind? Perhaps your gut instinct? Nope, neither. In fact, its really just me. John was the name my brain tells me is mine, but im not entirely convinced that its even mine. Hell, for all i know, my name is Sean Tailor and i pilot a nuclear sub-orbital craft hovering above Marthopolis.
“John, heads up. We’ve got jackals” Echoed a voice from the bridge.
“Goddammit, do these assholes ever give up? I mean shit, were in the middle of nowhere! Arm the center and rear guns and prepare to engage. Don’t bork it up this time Mars” croaked John with disgust clearly trailing his voice.
“Will you ever let that go? It was a minor slip an–”
“A minor slip that almost cost me and my crew their lives. A minor slip is something that doesn’t fuck up the entire plan of operations. Now prepare to engage, thats an order” Interjected John.
“What in the hell is going on?” echoed a female voice from around the corner.
“Mind you, everything is fine…just a few jackals. Go back to eating Jenna,” informed John.
“But…don’t you think its a bit odd that jackals keep coming at us from nowhere? Smells awfully fishy,” Jenna said. “But good thing we’s got us a shiny pilot, eh John? I remember when he first–”
“BUNK! NOW!” bellowed John in a voice that rattled Serene throughout.
“No need to get your nickers in a bunch, just trying to comfort you cap’n,” Jenna replied in a small voice. John gave her a cross look and Jenna scurried off to her bunk.
“She’s only human, John,” said Mars “and a woman at that, you really should treat her better. After all, she keeps us alive.”
“Since when did I start caring about others, Mars?” questioned John.
“When you first hired me,” Mars said with a voice full of sorrow and regret.
Shortly after the fret between the two, Serene twisted like a roller coaster at a theme park, firing its twin phazin-ion hybrid canons at the jackals. Mars is an excellent pilot, but what bothers him is not that he has to engage the jackals, its that they keep coming from all possible directions, especially since Mars explicitly set a course out in the desolate border. The jackals seem to be getting smarter, faster, and more adept at their creations. This was what worried Mars. Jackals were no match for Serene, which despite being a large transport, who could maneuver ten times faster than the smaller crafts which she engaged frequently. Mars often thought about what would happen if Serene overheated from excess phazin processing, because the element must be processed slightly before it can be prepared to eject out of the hybrid canons. If there was one thing in the verse that he feared, out of all the things he’s seen, it had to have been being boarded by jackals. They were fierce, unmerciful, and insane. Jackals don’t care what you feel, or rather, they do, only not about your pain. They live to cause pain, humans driven to the absolute limits of their mentality and drove insane by the society of mankind. Their torture methods far surpassed anything previously used, and is too violently brutal to describe. As he continued thinking about that, he was interrupted by John, who was demanding a status report.
“Whats the status Mars?” John demanded.
“Oh..uh…wha? Whats going on?” answered Mars, obviously still in his mind.
“What the hell do I pay you for? To sit around and fucking daydream? No, I pay you to pilot this damn bird. Now, ill ask again. Status report?” John beckoned Mars.
“Somethings wrong with the rear thruster valve, she’ll hold but you really need to get it replaced. And the dang hybrids can cool themselves rather nice, but they came damn close to overheating. John, need I remind you what happens if they overheat?” smacked Mars.
“No, I think you’ve stressed that enough. As for the valve, we’ll replace it once we hit Cortanya. We’ll see about a better cooling system if its not too costly. Speaking of which, how far are we from Cortanya?” queried John.
“Few hours. Enough time for you to snag a nap before we start tumbling into the chlorine. Damn that shit eats through Serene’s hull and turns it a raunchy green,” replied Mars.
“Very well then, tell Joey to suit up and meet in the bay,” John said as he walked off the small bridge of Serene. Few moments after Mars plotted a idiot-proof course on the nav-map, he grabbed the PA and bellowed into it for Joey to get his ass in the bay. After he’d done what he was told, he pulled his old baseball cap over his brow and took a small cat nap only before John threw a potato at him.
“Wake up you lazy pilot, land this bird already,” John said, laughing at the disgruntled Mars.
“Heh eh, have your laughs, I know where you sleep John,” Mars crackled. As soon as Mars prepared to descend into Cortanya’s bright green atmosphere, it vanished without a trace. In its place was a sole flame that seemed to burn without oxygen. There was no fuel.
“What in Sam’s name is that?” snorted Joey.
“Its…a fire,” replied Mars.
“Whats happenin cap’n?” crowed Jenna from over the three tall shoulders. “Why’d we stop? and whats that?”
“Bring us in closer Mars,” ordered John. Mars eased Serene towards the small, vibrant flame. When he got to a range of half of a mile, he stopped and stood dumbfounded at what was in the flame.
