By David C. Daoust
Following ‘flying’ beings, through a multi-tiered city, was proving far more trying than Major could have guessed.
In point of fact, he had lost the Wraiths almost immediately. All he was going by now, was the general direction they were headed before they’d vanished from sight. All he could do was hope– hope that the Wraiths had, indeed, headed for home. Or at least somewhere he could find some food.
Major’s stomach was rumbling. So much, he mused, it may learn to speak at some point, maybe even create its own language. It was certainly off to a good start. Its current message was clear: ‘Feed me.’ He chuckled a bit at the thought, and figured, as long as he did not answer back, he was pretty sure, he didn’t need to worry over his sanity.
The lost soldier came upon a dead end. The towers were not all of the same height. Thus the cubic grid of walkways, that arched throughout, was far more labyrinthine than one may imagine. The next building over was actually one floor lower than the tier he had been using.
Many of the walkways, had ramps that would hook around the building, to a differant tier.
This one didn’t.
It was incredibly inconvenient.
This meant Major had to find a way down to a lower tier before he could continue on. He had no interest in backtracking, instead found an entrance into the tower itself.
The consortium soldier was no stranger to the City-stations, despite being born and raised among the Trade Consortium; an innovative culture that viewed such remnants of the Ark Age, as obsolete relics- best left to the past.
The walls of the corridors were currently blank, though he knew they held the ability to show scenes from the Hub. Blue skies and green pastures. All images made to remind the people of where they came from. To fool the mind, possibly, into not losing touch with their true nature, despite living in the structured, sterile cities throughout their centuries-long trip to the Second Sun.
The powerless screens had a strange eerie glow at their bottom edge- where it met the floor, ran a meta-plastic luminescent material that never lost its glow. It gave off enough light for Major to make his way through the powerless building. This material was used throughout structures, for just such an eventuality where the power was lost. Signs were tacked throughout, made of the same substance, one such sign indicated where elevators were found. He knew better than to trust an elevator. Even if there was one with power, he had no interest in being trapped within, should something go wrong.
A stairwell, however, should solve his current predicament. He stealthily made his way through the corridors, until he found the floors central ‘Commons’. A huge chamber connecting living facilities for this floor’s populace.
A form flickered on the right, he caught it out of the corner of his eye. Only slightly darker than the darkened wall. The mistreated soldier crouched low and froze, one knee to the ground, he waited. From only that first peripheral look, he could tell it was no Wraith, and knew beyond a doubt it could not be his own reflection or shadow.
He held position until it moved again, gaze affixed directly at where he had spotted it.
Once it moved again, Sims thought the form was depicted within the wall-like screen. A screen which he had thought was powerless… Could it be a bot’s Holographic form wandering through the Hub? He knew it was a possibility in the Onion. What he could not know, was that the crippled Ark, left in the void, had never invented such things as ‘bots’– nor their data-spheres.
The humanoid figure moved fluidly, hovering a few inches off the ground. Its legs hanging loosely beneath it, as its torso seemed to lean into the direction it was going.
He could not tell if it detected him as well.
It seemed to wander aimlessly.
Major considered it being an actual ‘wraith’- the very mythical apparition that had inspired the name for the mysterious astronaut that had proven to be a strangely unusual child. Could it be some sort of ghost from the past? ‘come to haunt the empty corridors of the City-station?
It was not until it shifted around the far corner, that Major Sims realized his eyes were playing tricks on him moments before. It was in fact a real-world form; the distance hid any detail. Sims felt the glow should have been strong enough for him to see more than just an outline.
Again, he considered it may truly be some form of ghost. He pushed those thoughts away. He was a rational man. He’d seen a lot in his years of service, not once had he witnessed the supernatural. The questions it inspired, however, were puzzling. Could it be with the Wraiths? Or with the centipede? A whole new threat? Droids of the Onion were thin, inhumanly thin, this thing was not. That being said the Onion didn’t have things like giant centipedes either.
It drifted by, it passed not ten feet from where he crouched, not reacting to his presence at all.
Major was relieved, he doubted he had the strength for a fight, and flight would only drain him.
He moved once it was past him, silent as a ghost himself, he moved towards a glowing image of a stairway tacked next to a door. Silently he slipped through, closed it carefully behind him… and continued down, then out… and headed east, ever vigilant of one more strange thing, flitting through the eerily empty city.
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