Array Class Monitoring System – Coverage zone IV // Group III //

Surviving Members [Multiple Casualties]: Convicted 578043 → 578060 // 2 Unknown/? Units

[ -- Class XII Prison World: Attica – ]

Sentence: [Death] / [Twenty Rotation Commitment]

[Rotation XIII]

…

His neck itched again.

As his hand touched the cool metal, he held it there, feeling the merge of skin and synthetic, there was no real respite.

It was a strange sensation, being able to feel through something that wasn't flesh. Something that felt wrong... artificial. There were times when the metal felt cold, hot, or tainted- like a sweat you couldn't wipe away, but the worst was when it itched.

There was nothing he could do about this. It wasn't as though he could itch something made of metal, or even wipe away the sensation of tingling nerves that had fused with it. The collar was simple something to endure: a piece of him he had never wanted, but received.

In the still silence of the vehicle's cabin, he tried to resist the urge to scream in frustration.

It would pass. It always did.

Patience.

If there was anything he had learned to accept, it was patience.

The rustles of breathing, shifting forms, quiet rasps, the occasional click of chitin pieces against a seat. It was a very strange, but peaceful. They had managed to fit quite a bit into what was essentially an alien version of a stretched-out monster truck. The craft was by far the closest thing to a human vehicle he had seen in a long time. The wheels, the metal, the controls- they were all unfamiliar, but they functioned for the same purposes.

It reminded him of... no that memory was still a blank.

A recognizable blank, the worst kind. The gap between knowledge and nothing, held to some form of limbo that may or may not be reachable if he thought long enough, and tried from enough angles. He couldn't though, not this time. This time, it was gone.

His neck still itched. This was not shaping up to be a good night.

The rage was back.

With each pulse in his neck, he felt his anger rise into a fury. Continuing until it was a flood of red haze before he forced it back down.

Anger would solve nothing.

Contain it.

Breathe.

There was a reason Humans were capable of such anger, and a reason for that rage: because it was powerful. Because he could take the emotion, and do something with it. Compared to the other species in the cabin, the man knew he was dangerous. There were likely only two that could hope to match him partly, and while they were in full combat suits, he knew he could end them easily enough.

He had seen what he could do, and remembered the gore vividly- like someone might remember being sick, or ill.

Slowly, he let out a sigh as he pressed the emotion down.

It could wait.

It would have to.

"Human."

In the dark, he saw Yitale's eyes open. Pure and translucent, they reminded him of some sort of polished gems, that could catch the light and hold it. As if a strange blue: an iris that filled the entire eye, and not just the center. They matched her scars.

She had been dreaming of their escape from the ship.

He knew that this wasn't something he should be capable of knowing, but was aware of it regardless. A fact that had been becoming more and more apparent, recently.

They were inside one another's head.

He felt her in his, just then. Barely catching some fleeting images as they blurred past, together, and then dissipated.

The escape pods... the waiting... the fear... the long stripe of discolored flesh that had been left on his back as muscles tensed to bring it life.

It was all there.

The terrible fall as they crashed down from space, surrounded by empty decoys. Confusion, panic, terror- fading into the background... She never dreamed of things that hadn't happened, only things that had. As if Yitale was trapped on a linear pathway, from start to finish. There was only real events, never imaginary.

A slow deliberate motion, the seat creaked softly, and his feet silently crossed the floor. The rubber-like substance that coated the metal underbelly of the vehicle was warm, and compressed ever so slightly under his weight as he removed himself, and finally left the cabin. There, the change in temperature hit him all at once, bringing him into heightened awareness as it chased off the last hint of his sleeping mind.

It was a cool evening, like the deserts back... the deserts...

No.

That was gone as well.

Another memory of Earth he couldn't quite retrieve.

In his mind, he felt a tugging, or gentle nudge of intention that signaled Yitale was still awake. He wasn't certain why she did this, be it out of something instinctive, or an old habit she had never broken, but he didn't care. If she had something to say, she could do it out loud.

Dropping down to the sandy soil, he felt alive. Familiar, even, with the dirt, the air, and the sky. He went from contained, to expansive- as there suddenly were no boundaries, no restrictions. He could see for miles, of desert sands, rolling dunes, tiny clouds, millions of stars...

It wasn't so bad on the planet. At least when the storms had past them, and the other threats had gone.

He had grown to appreciate the smaller things since being on the surface. Unlike most of the species he encountered, he didn't have the benefit of living for thousands of generations in outer space, or on specialized vessels. He had grown to full on solid ground and it was reassuring, to feel sand beneath his toes, and roughened feet.

This was what mankind had been formed by. Molded by...

But Yitale was still there.

Waiting in the corner of his mind, she was ever present. Like the beating of his pulse, and the slight shifting in his vision that accompanied it. It wasn't something one would notice unless they knew to look for it, but it was there. If he thought back, he could recognize that she'd been there for a long time, regardless of whether or not either of them had realized it.

He hated that, too.

The translator had made him too comfortable: at ease when he should have been on guard. These were not humans. They were different, each one something "else." Foreign to him, in all ways. His own experiences- his whole existence, was outside their expectations. Alien to their ways.

Why had he even expected anyone of them to be even remotely similar to him?

The fact that the Sirens even had emotions he could recognize should really be a blessing considering how different some of the other species he had seen were in comparison. Why wouldn't he find that they had some form of communication, or bonding, different than his own?

The door to the strider creaked once more, and a soft landing announced that he had been followed.

Yitale hit the sand with the grace of a cat as she stepped out into the light of the moon, which seemed to hold its place above, in synchronicity of the planet orbit. As he turned to her, those gem-like eyes glowed blue again. Utterly alien, different, and bizarre.

“I apologize.” Her song held more emotion than he was expecting, layered with octaves.

“I know, I saw.” A glimmer of color flashed in that tiny corner of his mind, a purple shaded with dark gray. Guilt seemed to fit, sadness maybe. “I saw a lot of things.”

“Then you know I didn't intend for this to happen!” More gray, more purple streaks of white etched through them like bolts of lightning, or cracks from strain.

“For voids sake: I thought you were a beast! I bonded you because you were a beast!” Yitale's voice hung over the cold air, in frost. A tiny cloud that dissipated with her confidence. “I didn't know.”

Her song grew hushed, emotion strained into it, in a way that she had never quite managed before. It was a tone of acceptance. “What I did was wrong. What I tried to make you do was wrong, but you did it anyways- by choice.”

“I'm not just a contract Yitale.” His eyes met those glowing blue pieces, in anger. "I'm not just a fucking contract."

“When you tried... out of desperation- I understand that now, but when you tried... did you see her?” His voice was level, but barely in control. “I've tried so many times. I just want to know if you saw her, or if she slipped past you, like she does when I try to remember her.”

A tone of confusion hummed a simple pulse, as Yitale walked out from the shadows of the vessel.

“There were too many thoughts for me to see much of any one thing for more than an instant... Your mind was static, as if from a thousand ships, casting to one channel.”

The two froze, as a stray gust threw sand high into the air, forming a swirling pattern: a cyclone that cast a shadow on the surface below. It dissipated quietly as quickly as it had arrived, the distant pattern of falling stones ringing off the quiet hills.

Just another constant reminder of the danger, and how little they held control over it.

“We shouldn't be out of the strider during the night cycle.” Yitale sang quietly. In the far distance, shapes moved along the peaks of giant dunes, prowling forms that seemed to absorb the light, and not reflect it. “We've done well enough to avoid more conflicts, but we both know that we've been holding from those on the edge of your blade. We can't let our guard down.”

The man stared out across the desert, watching.

Then, he thought.

“How long is it going to last Yitale?"

The feeling in his mind waited, heavy.

Then, it replied.

“Until one of us is dead.” The thought came back, mixed in colors.

“You know, I hated you.” He whispered, wafting cloud of vapor from his lips as it met the night air. “From the pit of my soul, I hated you, but I want you to know something."

"What?"

“If I killed another of my kind, they would have called it murder. It was thought by many to be worse than any other crime, because it was final. There was bringing back a life.” He lay on the ground, feeling the cool sand against his back, against his scar, as he stared at the unfamiliar sky. “I've killed others now. Not in the name of war, or justice- but for the safety of you and your crew, and myself.” A slow exhalation spewed a misty fog into the air above his face, blocking the reflected light of the distant moon. “They might not have been human, but they were intelligent.”

Another dust storm swirled closer, bringing with it a rattling of small stones , which skipped off along the ground in a tiny stampede.

“Self defense is fine, but to kill in cold blood would be staining Mankind's legacy. Even if I'm tempted.” The cold ground was comforting, as he pulled his arms back behind his head, and tried to make out stars through the foreign atmosphere. “If I'm really the only human left, that's on me to keep clean.”

Yitale was quiet as she listened.

Finally she spoke.

"I understand."

He listened, as her thoughts quietly wisped along their connection.

It spoke of regret.

If a crew consisted of Rullah, Oxot, or some other fringe world species- the crew might be capable of defending themselves even without the assistance of a guardian. Most of such species had a heritage of warrior bloodlines, or some other similar military faction. Sirens though... well they had nothing but what they had learned of those things from others. Unlike their fellows, Siren lacked that heritage. What they had, they received from the Union, through the rare individuals that enlisted among the military and returned, like herself.

The only reason their species had held its own against the threats of the fringe, was through the role of the Shipmaster, and their life-bonded beasts. It wasn't a pretty method, but on the fringes, if you had an advantage- you needed to use it. Species capable of psionic abilities in the Union were rare, and of those that did posses the abilities, a majority of them weren't extremely talkative on the subject.

In simplicity, it boiled down to the process of conditioning, of breaking a creatures spirit, and forcing your mind upon theirs while it was weakened. Making the connection, and then amplifying it as far as it could go, bending the beast to your will, and providing a link that would last a lifetime. This was not what the ability had been evolved for, but in purpose, it worked efficiently enough on creatures that fit the description of “dumb” intelligence. Allowing Sirens to create a one sided bond. With a Shipmaster directing a beast's very thoughts, a Siren-crewed vessel became a very deadly place for an invading force.

But Yitale had never truly bonded a beast before. She supposed that was probably the first place she had gone wrong in this entire venture: she hadn't know what to expect from it. All she had known was that it was different from being bonded to another like herself.

That she had already experienced, in full. The breaking of a bond like that was enough to make her never want another.

Death was kind to no one.

“It never has been, and it never will.”

He watched as Yitale flinched, responding as the thought tapped her mind. Something harmless but present, a raindrop on glass. A fact of life.

“The sun is rising.” The human spoke aloud as he rolled to his feet, dusting off the crude fabric that held along his waist and legs. “Seven more days, Yitale.”