Leaning back in the seat, Abraham rubbed his eyes and took a few quick, deep breaths. It lieu of a nap, it’ll keep him alert despite his exhaustion.
“Captain?” came a voice by the door. Another junior crewman, pulling a rolling tray behind her.
“Yes, crewman?”
“We had some coffee made. I wasn’t sure if you’d had any,” she said.
“Music to my ears, crewman,” he said. Meeting her halfway, he poured himself a cup, adding only a dash of cream. He didn’t want to take too much and risk one of his people being deprived of the only thing that could make coffee bearable.
The first sip gave rise to an involuntary sigh. Despite the stale taste, he could let himself forget where he was as the remnant warmth of the brew saturated him.
“A very welcome break,” he sighed in satisfaction, “thank you for considering me.”
“Of course, sir,” she said, then left him alone after he dismissed her.
He considered whether he should bring the coffee, drinking it while en route to the outpost, but nixed the idea and chugged it all back.
So, they needed a plan. He didn’t like the odds of the Cloud being able to land safely at the outpost, but that wasn’t the only reasonable use of the resources available. That idea which had been fermenting in the background of his mind bubbled to the surface.
It wasn’t his favourite idea. He knew it wouldn’t go over well with Trey and the other captains. He wondered if it was pragmatic to share it at all. It would be expensive. But the expense was justified by the stakes. If his idea worked, then they would have the breakthrough they were all craving.
They’d be free to take some time to rest, and finally build their new home. Whatever Abraham had to do to ensure that his people could live free, and thrive, he would do.
No matter the cost.
----------------------------------------
A familiar feeling permeated Hunter as he awoke. A distant sore-ness, a distinct lack of freedom in his movement, and a sense of utter weakness. There was a nervous alarm somewhere deep within, and he was certain that any significant physical movement would be a grave mistake.
But at least it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.
The smell in the air, the beeping of machines around him, the distinct mumble of doctors speaking amongst themselves in esoteric syllables. It was all too familiar. He’d been in plenty of hospitals in his lifetime, and rarely were such visits pleasant.
Given the distinct hum that permeated the walls, he could only imagine he was onboard a ship.
It wasn’t the Cloud. It felt different.
The Ambition, then?
He cleared his throat, and the mumbling stopped.
“He’s awake!” someone said.
“You owe me 10 credits,” someone else replied.
Whoever the first voice belonged to groaned. Hunter wished he could move his head, but it was currently being held in place by a strap which hung from the ceiling, wrapping around the back of his head and keeping it suspended above the surface of the bed.
“Mr. Koar, can you hear me?”
He groaned in response. It was difficult to move his mouth. He could lick his dry lips, but that didn’t do him much good. His mouth felt about as dry as a desert.
“Good. You’ve surprised us all, sir. Do you remember what happened to you?” said a woman to his side. She leaned over him, and Hunter saw wrinkled eyes full of compassion, with well-worn smile lines etched along their edges.
Hunter could imagine her baking cookies for grandchildren.
Mrs. Margaret’s white mop of hair came to mind. Her eyes magnified by her glasses. She always had some cookies to spare.
He was feeling sentimental at the moment. It must be the drugs.
“Did you drug me?” he asked.
“Of course,” they said, “after we realized you would survive, we did what we could to lessen the burden you’d be under once you recovered.”
“How bad was it?”
The following list of injuries he’d sustained was awe-inspiring. Every bone in his body had been beyond saving. Every organ had failed or was in the process of failing. He’d lost more blood than anyone could lose and yet, he lived.
They could explain why he was still alive; that something had intervened was obvious. The strange presence—or force, or whatever—had sustained him. But how it had intervened was beyond the medical staff’s collective comprehension.
Hunter didn’t know, either. After hearing all the reasons he should be dead, he did some investigating. When he had a few free minutes where he was unbothered by curious doctors and nurses, Hunter closed his eyes and looked within.
Every few seconds, there was a pulse. It was subtle, and the strength of it varied. He could feel the etherium saturate him, guided without his conscious control. It felt like a warm smile. Or like a spot of warm sunshine on a chilly day.
It was like the first blossoming of flowers during the springtime. It was like the patch of greenery in a grey cityscape. It was life, breaking through something lifeless. It was gentle, like a soft touch of water against the skin.
He couldn’t identify what charge this etherium held. He wondered if the concept even applied anymore. It seemed alive, driven by a clear etheric desire. But it wasn’t the lifeless, hungry kind of desire that he associated with glyphs in a network.
Whatever this was, he hadn’t felt it before. Not even at Barnum, after Trey had him treated with the advanced healing construct. Whatever this was, it felt much more personal.
Hunter wished he’d find some way to gain clarity soon. The more he learned about etherium, the more lost he felt. He’d once considered himself an expert.
After meeting June and his disciples, as well as learning about how the parasite’s control of the beast waves, left him feeling excited about learning more about etherium. What was etherium? Why was it so profound in its capabilities?
It felt like all that humanity had done so far was stare at the surface of etherium’s potential from a distance. And the possibilities that lay beneath that surface were terrifying.
And incredible. Anomaly Class creatures, cultivators with the power to rival Class-1’s, the ability to grow even more powerful than that …
Hunter had never felt more drawn to etherium. After facing incredible dangers and witnessing the destructive capacities which etherium held hadn’t lessened his curiosity. If anything, it had only strengthened his desire to know more.
The memories of the attack on the outpost were like a half-faded dream, but some things about it he’d never be able to forget. His own presence, the sense of power, control, and intuitive access to something as eldritch as Force was something he craved to feel again.
As soon as he had seen that powerful Class-1 in all its etheric detail, it was like his own nervous system took control. But that wasn’t quite accurate; it had felt like something within had taken over his nervous system and his etheric system. It turned him into something like a mirror, reflecting the capabilities of the Class-1. Subjecting him to power his body wasn’t ready for.
He couldn’t dismiss the idea that this was a deeper dimension of his sensitivity. But it wasn’t the only explanation.
He’d seen some corpses left in the wake of the parasitic possession of the original outpost’s staff. What had it felt like, when the parasite had taken control, to turn them into animals?
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Was it similar to what he was feeling now? Was this just a different control exerted by another entity on Skyhold? Maybe something even more powerful than the parasite? The possibility didn’t ring true. And whatever truth it would hold, he could not dismiss the evidence that this type of control differed from what the parasite did to its hosts. Where the parasite was all brute force and overwhelming power, this was more like a guide.
It had wanted him to learn something. If only he could remember what it was trying to teach him.
He had so many questions, and there was no one he could ask for clarity.
Another set for the ever-growing list, he lamented.
But there were some questions he could get answers to. He worked to loosen his jaw. His first attempt at words came out as a gasping, wheezing sound. But his second attempt was a bit more discernable.
“Outpost? Aera?”
“So you can speak? Good. The answer to both of your questions is safe. Aera was here with you a few hours ago. The outpost is preparing for the Guardian, and as we speak, the command staff are discussing contingency plans. Captain Gregor sent a message to the ship, asking for updates about your condition. If you’d like, we can message him and tell him you’re awake.”
The Captain’s thoughtfulness touched Hunter.
“Trey?”
“One of my nurses sent him a message as soon as you woke up. But we don’t know when he’ll be out of his meeting.”
“Gregor,” Hunter croaked.
“You want me to send the message?”
“Yeah.”
As he spoke, he could feel the pulsing etherium working its way towards his throat, his lungs, and his mouth. If he was standing upright, the feeling of bliss might cause him to drool.
“Consider it done. But first, we’d like to perform some more tests on you. Whatever is allowing you to regenerate appears to be speeding up your recovery. You might even be out of here by the end of the day,” she said.
“Weird,” he said.
“Very weird, but not unwelcome. If you have any insight into the process, share it whenever you’re able.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That got a small chuckle out of her.
The tests didn’t take long. Most of it comprised being passed through an x-ray machine. The doctor was making gasping sounds, astonished by his results.
“You’re a wonder, kid,” she said.
“Not kid, technically boss,” Hunter muttered. It had grown easier to speak over the last few minutes. He felt himself salivating more often, and he could push out over 2 syllables at a time.
“Technically, not yet. Your position is more honorary than it is official,” she corrected.
He tsked in response.
She took a few more minutes to examine his x-ray results.
“It really is miraculous,” she said. She showed him his previous results, and Hunter whistled.
Sort of.
It came out as more of a sharp exhale. But she could interpret his meaning.
“Indeed,” she agreed. The first set of images made him look like his body had been pulverized by something. The medical staff had done what they could to keep his limbs lined up, but he imagined that would have been an impossible task. But sometime during the past few hours, the bones—having been reduced to shards and powder—lined themselves up and fused themselves, flawlessly. His muscles, which had appeared shredded like tender beef torn off of bone, had been threaded together and reattached to the bone. There were some spots that were more healed than others, but it was just a matter of time before he was back to normal.
“We can’t find any trace of a foreign agent in your bloodstream. Whatever is doing this must be etheric, as far as I can tell.”
Hunter nodded.
“I can feel it,” he said, “warm. Caring.”
“What, the etherium?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Interesting,” she said, looking at him as if he’d just said that cats were born out of rain clouds.
He laughed. There was some pain at the mild exertion, but it wasn’t unbearable.
“Even that, your ability laugh, shows that your improvement in the last 30 minutes is more significant than your last two hours of recovery combined. How do you feel?”
“Still aches,” he said, “but easier to speak.”
“Well, the key difference between now and then is that you’re conscious. Maybe that’s significant, maybe it’s not. Gosh, there’s just so much that we don’t know. Speculation is practically useless.”
Hunter could understand her frustration.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
Her radio chimed. The transmission sounded warbled and vague to Hunter, but apparently it was loud and clear for her.
“Captain Gregor has received your transmission and is on his way. He says he wants to thank you personally for defending the outpost.”
Hunter winced.
That didn’t sound like Captain Gregor. Not that he doubted that the man could be sincere in his gratitude, but something was off. Why come here now? Wasn’t there a meeting going on? Trey hadn’t even messaged back, and he would have been willing to bet that Trey would be the first person to notify him.
There was a knock at the door.
“I came as soon as I heard,” came Aera’s voice. He sat up in his bed. Seeing him awake and moving seemed to ease her stress.
“You alright?” he asked.
She embraced him as gently as she could.
“Don’t worry about me. How are you?” she asked.
“Me? I’m fine. Show her,” Hunter said. Aera looked at him with a question written on her face. He looked to the doctor and pointed at the x-ray’s.
“His x-ray results,” she handed over the x-ray’s to Aera, “He and I have been discussing how wonderful his recovery has been.”
Aera looked at the x-rays and her eyebrows rose as soon as she saw the previous results.
“What happened, Hunter? What do you remember?”
“Later,” he said, “Captain Gregor’s coming.”
“Really?” she asked, “Why?”
“Gratitude, apparently?”
She hmm’d.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” he said.
“Why don’t I leave you two to catch up?” the doctor said.
“Thanks doctor, uh,” he said, suddenly realizing he never got her name.
“Frasier,” she said, “Dr. Frasier, at your service, Mr. Koar.”
“Oberon,” he corrected, “I’m an Oberon, now.”
“Yes, sir,” she nodded, “Mr. Oberon.”
After Dr. Frasier left, Aera rose an eyebrow.
“Oberon, now?”
“Yeah,” he said, “We’re in this together. Family.”
He might have been imagining it, but her eyes seemed to glisten.
“Glad you’re finally on board,” she said, crossing her arms. An attempt at levity, Hunter assumed.
“Have been for a while,” he admitted, “just now occurred to me that being a Koar isn’t relevant anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
He was sure enough; he supposed. It wasn’t like he was abandoning the Koar name. But Skyhold was a new beginning. Being referred to as a Koar was making him feel like there was some distance between him, Trey, and Aera.
Being an Oberon meant more to him right now than being a Koar. There was still a slight sting. He still felt like he was betraying his dad, even though much of his previous affection for the man had faded over the last year.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m sure.”
She embraced him again, and he made a joke about how she was going to undo all the hard work the doctors went through in putting him back together again. She lightly slapped his shoulder. Then she was called away, having taken on the responsibility of helping with the outpost’s recovery efforts while Trey was in his meeting.
As if on queue, Hunter received word that Captain Gregor had boarded the ambition. When the Captain appeared in the med-bay, Hunter was disappointed to see the man alone.
His feeling that something was amiss grew stronger. He still couldn’t quite put a finger on what the Captain’s true motivation was, because this seemed far more personable than his usual way of doing things.
“Captain,” Hunter greeted the man, “Can’t salute right now.”
“I’m pleased to see that you’re alright, Mr. Koar.”
“Oberon, now, if you don’t mind.”
“Mr. Oberon, then. I approve of the switch up, for what it’s worth, sir.”
“You’re calling me sir. What do you need?”
“Well, your display at the outpost has earned the deep respect of everyone present. All the command officers at the meeting were asking after you, wondering if you were alright.”
“And wondering what the hell happened to me?”
The Captain barked a small laugh.
“Yeah, that too, sir. I’ll admit to being curious myself. But more than that, I’d like to thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Hunter said, hoping to get to the real reason the Captain was here, “and as much as I appreciate the visit, I’ve been around Aera long enough to recognize when there’s more going on under the surface. Why are you here, Captain?”
“You’re learning fast,” Captain Gregor said, sighing. He took off his hat and rubbed his head. For a moment, the air of confident conviction left the man. “That’s good.”
Hunter gave him a polite smile.
The Captain hesitated. Then pursed his lips.
“I have a plan,” he said, “and it’s not something that your father would approve of. Hopefully, it won’t even be necessary. But so far, they’ve all yet to agree on a single contingency plan for the worst-case scenario.”
“They, being Trey and the rest of the command staff?” Hunter asked. Despite his sense of worry, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. “And am I to assume that you’ve run this plan by them already?”
“Not completely, no. But none of them appear willing to risk any more critical infrastructure in order to ensure the colony’s future viability. Reports of Sabletown’s clash with the Guardian have arrived, and it’s more powerful than our initial guess. More powerful than the Sabletowners had been expecting, from what we can tell.”
“Really? Can you tell me more about Sabletown’s capabilities?” Hunter asked. Captain Gregor shook his head.
“All we know is that Sabletown has deployed weaponry, or abilities, that surpass what we can field from the outpost. We estimate that some of our more powerful munitions can rival their power. And the Ambition has already run through both its store and the Cloud’s.”
“The guardian’s still standing?”
“As of our last report, it’s only grown more powerful since the assault began. We can’t tell how effective Sabletown’s attacks were.”
“So, we’re going to be operating on the worst-case scenario, being the most likely scenario.”
“I don’t think we have any other choice, sir.”
“And you think that there’s something I can do to help you with this plan, which you’re not sure Trey or the others would agree with?”
“I have nothing but respect for Mr. Oberon, but I’m sure he would be reluctant to approve of it. The time it would take to persuade him would only reduce our chances of success.”
“I see,” Hunter said, “so, what’s the plan?”
Captain Gregor took a deep breath and told Hunter the basic idea.
It was simple beautifully simple, but very costly.
So costly that he felt tempted to reject the plan. But before he voiced his rejection, he considered the Captain’s point of view.
He knew that Captain Gregor was no fool. He was a cautious, meticulous kind of man. If he believed there was another way, he’d have said it. Sure, the Captain was only one man, and how effective could any man be in predicting the future?
When Hunter felt a certain strong urge rise within him, he realized it didn’t matter.
His efforts at resisting his impulsivity have rare proven to be effective. And he’d met more success—or something akin to it—after having obeyed the impulse. An inner voice protested that thought, telling him every success brought an inevitable disaster. But then he countered; when had he ever met a challenge he couldn’t overcome?
Analyzing the impulse, he recognized its source. It came from the fact that he’d have complete access to the Asutnahem shield.
That sealed the deal. How could he resist?
Over the last few minutes, the strange etheric pulses had reduced in frequency and strength. If they left now, he’d be able to stand on his own shortly after arriving at the Cloud. But before that, he’d need some help.
“Alright, Captain. Find me a wheelchair, and let’s get out of here. I believe I’ve got a date with a shield,” Hunter said, grinning.