"When you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."
Safe Haven, Cayman system, Edge Worlds.
As his eyes open, he feels the burden of yet another day. He is turning in his bed, just a couple more minutes would mean the World to him. As he tries to go back to sleep, time is flying by. An hour is a minute, a minute, but a second. He turns on his back, lowers the sheets and slowly opens his eyes. Time is slowing down, his thoughts speeding up. His mind finally begins to leave the dream world and grasp reality. Slow, even slower...
As he lay there, staring at the ceiling in his quarters, more and more thoughts rush through his mind. They are not happy, nor sad, but simple and realistic. They are not thoughts about the meaning of life, about the troubles of this World, they are but thoughts of him and his life; his past; his present.
As the clock-set automatic curtains open to let light into the room, he does not blink. His actions haunt him. His behavior drowns him in the darkness of his thoughts. The bed and sheets are his prison now. The tender touch of the Sun is not enough to get him out of the bed, to get him out of his prison, to save him from the darkness.
His thoughts bewilder him still. He can not stop thinking, he can not stop going back into the past. It is as if his brain is his sworn enemy, his conscience a silent assassin out to get him. They torment him. They are making him relive every wrong moment, question every second of that moment and then relive it again and again. He tries to justify his actions, as if he was arguing with himself. But, however he justifies them, it is never enough.
He closes his eyes again. He tries to calm himself, calm his mind. If only this reality was but a dream. If only he could truly wake up any moment now and get out of his prison. He opens his eyes, but nothing has changed. His heart starts beating faster, a cold sweat drop starts going down his forehead. He cannot escape, he thinks about giving up. No matter how hard he tries, it always finds him.
Guilt...everlasting guilt.
Finally, he sits up on his bed. While taking a deep breath, he realizes he did not rest in his sleep. His enemy wont even let him sleep in peace. There is no rest, there is but him and his conscience. He tries listening to his surroundings. Perhaps he will hear someone in the hallway, perhaps other people can help him wake up from this nightmare. It is still early, there is no one. He is alone. His thoughts start screaming. They want to break out of his skull, out of his very being.
He starts getting dressed. The room is getting smaller and smaller. He cant breathe anymore. His guilt is like a giant weight on his chest, and no matter how hard he tries he simply cant pick it up and remove it. He has to get out or he will suffocate, suffocate in his own thoughts, in his own darkness.
The corridor leading from his room is long and he is walking slowly. He cannot escape time, he cannot escape himself. His thoughts are changing. They focus still on the past, but not his actions, but his friends. Friends he once had but lost. Their faces and words still haunt him. It is like a giant circle of actions he could have changed, but didnt.
He should eat, but he doesnt feel hungry. Perhaps a look outside will calm his mind. Perhaps everything will be alright once he sees the stars. Perhaps.
The walk was long. His feet are already tired for he did not rest them at all last night, his mind even more so. After confronting the long, lonely corridor, he finally reaches the docking bay. He hopes to find company, someone who will notice him. Someone who will notice that he is sinking, someone who will notice that life itself is choking him.
The thick bay doors open. He makes a step forward into the bay and looks around. There are some technicians working on the docked ships. Repairing the wings, checking the weaponry systems, unloading the cargo. They are walking past him without even noticing him. Their pace is quickened, for they are on a tight schedule. They have no time, and he, he has too much of it. He sees them but as souls. Souls that are running around working, doing everything that needs to be done to survive. Unlike him, they do not seem weary, despite their work. The workers and him, they are the same in flesh, yet so different.
He then looks for his ship. From the far right of the giant bay, he hears an echo. The metal walls and the general mild emptiness of the bay make sure the echo travels far, to him and into his ears. He would recognize this sound anywhere. Even in the darkest of places and the grimmest of times, this sound would always wake him from his darkness, even if just for a bit. His 'Lich' fighter is being given the final touches and the technicians are just making final checks to the ignition.
Slowly, he walks over to them. As he is getting closer, the technicians do not notice him yet. As he comes up behind one of them, he stands still and waits. Finally, the technician feels a presence near him. He turns around and notices this hooded man standing behind him. His colleagues stop for a second as well, and turn their attention to him.
"Can we help you?" the first technician asks him. As he looks at the technician from under his hood, he silently says, "I am Lutero Razo and that ship you are working on is my own." As the technicians hear those words, they stand silent for a while. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps shock, or perhaps it was just the fact that they knew Lutero isnt known for his social skills, at least not when he didnt want to.
As he was not getting an answer from them, Lutero decides to break their silence with another question, "Is my Lich ready?". The technicians then finally snap out of it and start moving again. One of them, the one he started addressing first, answers him, "Y-yes, its ready. You can take it out whenever you're ready, Reaper." Lutero nods as a sign of gratitude and starts getting into his ship.
As he sits into his cockpit, the Universe stops. His mind quiets down. The thoughts that torment him disappear. His conscience stops questioning his actions and motives from the past. Everything is silent again. The sea of darkness in which he is drowning stops pulling him down. He can still not surface, but now he is not sinking further. Even if for a second, he is at peace.
He starts moving his ship towards the outer bay doors. The giant thick metal doors start to open and the first ray of light that comes through them flashes upon his eyes. He looks far ahead, his eyes gazing upon Cayman. It is beautiful. He increases the thruster to their maximum and the sound of power penetrates his ears. He flies out and thinks to himself "Here we go again."
[color=#FFFFCC]His eyes opened. He had not been sleeping, that was something he rarely did. Not that he needed to. The combined effect of cardamine's genetic modifications and that of his Reaper blood gave him very little need for it... But a little rest was never unwelcome. He rose to his feet slowly as he replaced his cardamine filtration system, feeling familiar sensation as the drug raced through his veins.
'Sacrifices have to be made', he thought, and this was one of them. Since the Reapers had left Malta he and many like him had been reduced to this crude necessity. Malta's air was enough to sustain him, but Malta, his estate and his son were fading into distant memory.
He turned to the door and walked slowly to the hangar bays. His engineers had just finished servicing the coolant and exhaust systems on his Lich. Cayman's nebulae, although striking and beautiful, were not kind on the engines. He remained silent as a group of pilots saluted him. He returned the salute... Not a requirement, but it seemed appropriate. These men and women were fighting the cause... The only cause that mattered, and that in it's own right was deserving of his respect.
He swept his greying hair back and pulled on his flight mask, settling himself into the cockpit, sealing the canopy and waiting for launch clearance.
"Here we go again" he muttered to himself as the Lich emerged from the base, wondering if his wingmen were thinking the same thing...
As the giant docking bay doors were closing behind him, he feels alive. One would call sudden changes of behavior and feelings, changes like Lutero would experience them, maniacal, or even blame them on cardamine. But to Lutero, they came as natural. His ship was his only refuge, one of rare places where he could be at peace with himself, his actions and his past.
His ship was sacred to him. It would carry him into the nothingness of outer space, into the thrill of combat, into the joys of victory. These emotions would let him relax, think clearer.
The inside of his cockpit was already rusted in some places from extensive usage. The outer shell carried scars, like a wounded warrior coming from a fierce battle, but it stood strong. Carved in small letters on the right side, right below the cockpit; "La Pesadilla", for that ship was a Nightmare to its enemies. An impressive sight, no doubt, but it was of Reaper origin after all, so it is to be expected.
As he distanced himself a few hundred meters from the station, he stared at the nebulae, the stars, the sun. He takes a deep breath to relax himself even more. Warmth surrounds him, but it is not the warmth of the sun or his engine growling in the background, no, it is the warmth of home. The feeling you get when you know you belong somewhere, when you feel like you were always destined to find this small piece of universe, when you feel like you have something to protect.
As he basks in the warmth of the sight laid before him, he hears a familiar sound in the background. As he turns his head slowly, he sees the bay doors of Safe Haven closing as another ship has just undocked. The soothing growl of the engine on this particular Lich was familiar to Lutero. He could not forget it or mistake it for any other.
He turned his head towards the sun again and thought to himself "He's early".
Lutero was always one to undock early and wait for his wingmen in space. The docking bays were suffocating for him, he couldnt stand them.
"Hmph, maybe the technicians are just running the ship through final preparations. But, no, he wouldnt let just anyone joyride his baby."
As he turned for yet another glance to confirm what his gut was telling him, he saw the ship approaching slowly. Inside the cockpit he recognized a familiar figure, the person he was waiting for. Suddenly, he grinned widely and muttered to himself; "So it is the old man after all...."
[color=#FFFFCC]Zavala smiled, looking out the port side of his cockpit towards Lutero's Lich.
"Buenos dÃas, Lutero..." came the quiet greeting.
Zavala hadn't been on active duty for some days now, and he had spent the down-time deep in thought. He was worried, the conflicts in the Omegas had taken a turn for the worse recently and the Reaper's response had been slow and indecisive. Things needed to change, and quickly.
'From the front, old man... From war to peace, from peace to victory.' The old Reaper mantra echoed in his head for a moment as he turned his Lich idly in space, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness for the first time in days, the kill engravings on the nose of the ship reflecting the orange light into his cockpit.
"We have work to do, Lutero... Far too much of it. Where are the rest?"
As Zavalas ship approached him, Lutero greeted him back while quietly staring at him with the corner of his eye, to see if he was still in shape.
"Buenos dÃas mi Almirante."
While he observed how Juan floated about in his ship, enjoying every second and every movement he did with it, he couldnt help but make a comment customed to him.
"You really do look like I child that had just discovered a set of swings in that ship, mi Almirante." he smirked happily.
He was satisfied in having Zavala as his wingman again, for a while has passed since that last happened. Lutero didnt always fly with just anyone, and he enjoyed Zavalas company, even if he was inept at showing it. He turned his head away towards the vastness of Cayman again.
"I trust you werent just sleeping in your room and spending your time at some bar all this time that you werent flying?" he continued in his usual tone and added; "Oh and, there is no one else. Other Reapers are on some boring patrols or still in the sack, its early, after all. For now, its just you and me, amigo."
He put his hands on the controls of the ship, just to move it a bit, just to get that feeling of readiness.
"I trust that your 'old' self will make this morning less boring..." he grinned again widely.
"The coalition have been less predictable in their actions of late. We've studied their military doctrine extensively, but of course that doesn't help if they fail to follow it." Zavala smiled and turned his ship slowly, pointing the nose towards the Omega 47 jumphole.
"A large force of theirs seems to have disappeared in the direction of Alpha, however I thought we should probably check on the situation in 49 following that little ruckus they managed to raise there. Perhaps a few of the locals will have a little more information on causes and reasoning. Seems totally arbitary to me..."
Juan wasn't expecting trouble. Nothing of any significance anyway. Perhaps a lightly armed Corsair patrol who would try their luck, but nothing they wouldn't be able to handle. He settled back into the flight seat and engaged his cruise engines, feeling the sudden acceleration pushing him back into his seat a little further.
"Better catch up, Lutero, we'd all hate for you to miss the riveting zoner conversation, si?"
As he heard Juan utter the word 'Coalition', his blood immediately starts to boil. If there was one thorn in Luteros eye, one extra mark he would like to add on his ship, it was the Coalition. The constant lies that they use to sugarcoat the eyes of innocent people would sicken him. The false promise of prosperity, the behavior of their pilots was enraging him at first sights. If there was something that Lutero hated, it was people that could not back up their promises. In his world, in his mind, there would be no place for them.
He slowly starts charging up his engines and turning his ship to follow Juan, he enjoyed every sound and every roar his ship was making. Finally, as his cruise engines fully charge, the pressure that is put on his chest as his Lich starts speeding up is one of the most soothing moments in the Universe for him.
"You know amigo, for a second there I thought you would use me as a chaser dog and pit me on their trail. Its true though, my blood just boils whenever I get close to them.." Lutero grinned widely and continued..
"Besides, even they dont know why they do the things they do. Yet, some people still mark us as the ones that are causing the problems as we are still members of the 'Maltese nation' in their eyes, while they gain their followers slowly. I just hope we catch some patrol after you had your little 'talk' with the locals, so I can give them a piece of my mind. You know, I havent had a go in this thing in a while."
His ship catches up with Juans and Lutero slowly looks at him through the side of his cockpit, smiling;
"And, why would I want to miss the talks with the Zoners mi Almirante. You know, you need someone at your side so they accidentally dont mistake you for the daily food delivery boy."
He turns his attention forward again as they were nearing the Omega 47 jumphole...