CHAPTER 5: The Other View

“Look, are you listening to me?”

“You kind of make it hard not to!”

“Right, good, then tell me why this isn't getting through to you?”

“I don’t know what you mean; I have suggested nothing that isn’t firmly grounded in reason. What is wrong with a little caution? I was hoping you might even be a tad proud of me”

“Look, it’s great you’re beginning to exhibit some forward thinking but I don’t agree at all with what you’re suggesting. I see no reason in threatening them and I can’t fathom why you would even think that would be a reasonable course of action to take.”

“I’m sorry, did you not read what I just showed you? These are not ordinary Pilgrims, they were up to something. It’s all there in obscure but oh so suspicious black and white. One of them is military for Gods sake! Why the hell would a soldier be on a Pilgrim vessel?”

“Yes I’ll admit there are rough edges but I’m sure we can smooth it all out just by talking to them once they wake up...if they wake up.”

The voices were not familiar to Kerra. They clattered inside her ears, each syllable like an iron club to the side of the head. The words were recognizable, known, but the sentences formed made little sense to her, blending into a smear of gibberish that sounded like no language she had heard before. She tried to focus on the sounds but her mind was groggy, fresh from its unconscious state. It was like she was submersed underwater, the vocal tones wavering in pitch, not allowing her to keep up and interpret.

A hot ache throbbed in her head. It beat to a continuous and relentless rhythm, like there was someone chipping away at the interior of her skull. Her eyes were closed but a light illuminated the skin of her eyelids, splashes of colour dancing in front of her. A heavy sickness rolled in her stomach and the muscles in her legs and arms felt like putty, unable to function or twitch without a disgruntled wobble of pain. Even her skeleton felt like it had been sleeping on a bed of nails. She was not in a good way and she couldn’t remember why.

“Goddamn it! Would you just listen to me and put that thing down!”

Another voice, another slew of nonsense that translated into little more than further ache and confusion. She didn’t know where she was but Kerra was sure she did not belong here, it was not her home. There were strange voices echoing around her, fluctuating like exploding audio bubbles, and she was lying on a cold metal floor, swallowed by a crippling pain. This was not right, it felt new in an unsafe kind of way. If only she could remember...

But she couldn’t, her past like a waterfall that fell straight down into a distant cloud she could not see through. Why couldn’t she remember, what had happened to her?

Kerra’s mouth was dry, her tongue rough as she dragged it along her teeth and nuzzled at a cut on the inside of her bottom lip. There was a slight sting that was lost amidst the greater pain that plagued her entire form, needled at her constantly. Every breath she drew felt like it brought barbed wire with it, tearing and cutting at her throat.

Fire; there had been fire. With thick, hoarse black smoke. A sudden memory, a spark of hope burst through her head. She saw flashes of intense yellow and orange snarling through shattered metal, felt the overwhelming heat of the fire upon her cheeks. Then it was gone, the memory wiped by another wave of ache.

She tried to think, to focus on the last truth her mind was sure of. Scrolling back, fighting through the numbing pain in her skull, she remembered her ship, The Shining Apostle. That was where she belonged; it had been her home for the past year of her life. Small and compact, it had been outfitted with the latest technology and crewed by a meagre five people, her included. It had been comfortable, her quarters homely and humble, adorned with her possessions from her real home on Genesis. She had had everything she required in life aboard that vessel. She had been fond of it, adored its simple design and curved structure. The interior had been sleek, the presentation immaculate. It was a Pilgrim vessel, pure like a noble servant of God, doing its part for the cause.

She wasn’t there now and so something had to have happened to the vessel, to her home.

Wincing, she tried to remember more. The pain in her head was getting worse but Kerra refused to address it until she knew what had happened to her. She had to remember, she had to know what had befallen her and her friends no matter how distressing or painful it was. She had heard such horrible stories, tales of pirates and bandits too keen on the decadence of life, scouring the stars for vulnerability to exploit. What if they had been involved, she could be on one of their vessels right now, the voices she was hearing her captors discussing what depraved act they would expose her to first. They could do such awful things to her and she would be powerless to stop them weak as she was. Maybe they had done this to her, beaten her to ripen her for what was to come.

Panic flooded her insides, her mind betraying her and only worsening her current predicament, doing as it always did when confronted with something new; assumed the worse. Such thoughts would do her no good. No, she had to remember what had happened and take it from there. But if it was pirates what could she do?

Kerra scolded herself and took a quiet but determined breath to guide her back on track. She couldn’t draw the attention of the mysterious voices, not yet.

She tried to picture her ship-mates. Their faces flashed through her head. Friendly and warm, their image brought her a brief moment of calm until panic encouraged her to think of what fate might have befallen them. Were they here with her, hurt and lying on an unforgiving metal floor? Were they also beaten and falling into an ignorant despair, unaware of each other and unable to help?

She thought of Nathaniel, his exuberance and youth. He was a devout believer, an optimist convinced that their quest could only end in success. Then she pictured him now, his delicate features shattered and bloodied, a snarling beast of a pirate standing over him with a sneer on his hideous face, innocent blood staining his skin.

Then there was Allie, the kindest woman she had ever met and an old friend of her family. She was harmless, a timid but beautiful flower in the garden of existence. The things a savage could do to her, it didn’t bear thinking about but Kerra couldn’t help herself. She saw Allie’s frail, elderly body strung up and lifeless, a cold quiet gripping her while her attackers danced and sang with glee.

Aaron, he would have died trying to protect them all, his fearsome stature a weapon itself. Fiercely loyal and protective, he would have died before allowing anything to happen to her, or any of them. So those vile pirates would have killed him, shot him in the back and defaced his body just for resisting. Her longest serving confidante and friend, always silently reserved, would be gone, sacrificing himself for the sake of others just as she always knew he would.

Krieg; their leader and a wise man falling into his twilight years with a dignity most men could only aspire to. A great beacon for the Pilgrim movement, he had taught her so much and given her more than she could ever have expected. His silver hair and kind eyes, her captors would have defiled them and ignored the purity of his spirit. They would have beaten him and spat on him and all the while his prayers would have been for his friends.

“Do you think they will ever wake up?”

The words were whispered but this time they made sense to her. She understood, realised her unknown captors were discussing her and possible others. Perhaps her companions were here after all and she was not alone. This stirred her from the theatrical horrors she was subjecting herself to, a welcome mercy. Straining to hear, she tried to hone in on the hushed voices that seemed to come from nearby.

“Should we give them something?”

“Like what, a firm slap? Neither of us have anything remotely resembling medical knowledge – which is worrying in itself considering what we do for a living – and the only medical supplies we carry are what’s in that med-kit that came with Felicity when I bought her. A few bandages and some rudimentary medicines, nothing really useful for this situation. I think we should give it time, they should come around eventually. Stasis can be quite the heavy experience I’ve heard.”

“I suppose...”

Stasis; she had been in cold stasis, Kerra realised. She could remember the moment but not what came before it. Something terrible must have driven them to the escape pods; her, Nathaniel and Aaron in one, Krieg and Allie in the other; all five of them releasing their fates to the on board system that governed the pods.

The urgency of that moment, the feeling when the lid had closed on her and condemned her to sleep, resurfaced in the present. The fear she had felt, the panic, it had been insurmountable. She could remember the need to scream, to break down and not submit to doing nothing. Dreaming would not save them, she had thought that, but Aaron had said there was no other option. He had said they had to survive, it was imperative and nothing else mattered, the knowledge they possessed was just too important. It was the only way, he had said, The Shining Apostle was lost and they had to escape to safety, trust in the Lord to guide them to salvation. She had doubted him then, the wisdom of his words but she couldn’t think why. What could it have been, what could have pushed her to the point where logic seemed like madness?

What had they found? Had they been successful?

There were too many questions in her head, too many threads ending in knots that could not be undone, at least not while she was in this kind of state. She was tired, groggy and in pain. Lying here and worrying would get her nowhere. It seemed foolish, too brave a course for such a timid woman, but she would have to confront her fears and open her eyes, see where she was. There was always a chance that things were not as bad as they seemed but Kerra could not see how. There was too much hurt and confusion for anything to be okay. But as Aaron had said on the pod, there was no other choice.

Slowly, Kerra peeled back her eyelids, allowed the world back in. The light hit her immediately, striking her like a bolt of lightning and compounding the ache in her head. The need to vomit tickled in her throat and around her neck. She swallowed what little froth there was left in her mouth, forced the reflex back and tried to focus on what she saw. It would take time.

The light dimmed as she adjusted, its glare subsiding so she could make out her surroundings. There was a lot of grey, a haze of it all around her and she could see bars just a few feet from where she lay. They were like spears of metal that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Beneath her there were black metal tiles, her face pressed into their cold surface. Her arm sprawled in front of her face and she followed to where it pointed, beyond the bars to a gloomy corner of the room where two figures stood in conversation. They were out of focus, blurred like dollops of paint dropped into water. Kerra blinked slowly, squeezed the distortion from her vision so the world snapped back into shape like a rubber band.

She saw a male of medium height with an athletic build. He was dressed all in black, resting against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His sandy hair was a disorganised mess that swallowed his ears and fell upon his forehead. He had unruly stubble lining his jaw, which was set like he was holding back a building rage. He didn’t look like a pirate, not how Kerra pictured one anyway. His face was too handsome and youthful, too pure for an unscrupulous criminal.

A woman huddled next to him, smaller than he was with her summit only reaching his shoulder. She was of Hispanic heritage, her skin a satin gold and her curled hair black as oil, tied back into a loose ponytail. Her face was beautiful in an obvious way; her cheeks were curved, her nose slight and her lips full. There was a tattoo over her eye but Kerra could not make out its detail. She was doing the talking, her arms gesturing like she was trying to convince her companion of something.

These were her captors. They looked like ordinary people, which surprised Kerra more than anything else. She had expected to see hideous men of enormous size, comic villains that barely resembled a human being, their evil twisting them into something demonic. But that wasn’t what she saw now, just two people – attractive people no less – in quiet conversation, paying no attention to her. Still, the presence of the bars told her she was a captive and so caution was still required. Whoever these two were, they could not be trusted, of this Kerra was sure. She was still in the fire and she would have to proceed carefully to avoid getting burned. The problem was she had no idea what to do now.

Suddenly something nudged her leg. Kerra stifled a gasp, almost unsure as to whether she had felt it. Her heart began to race. Then it happened again and she almost cried out in surprise, just stopping herself in time. Keeping one eye on her captives, she looked down to see a large body slumped at her feet, Aaron’s recognizable eyes staring back at her. He was injured but alive and a smile spread across her face. He put a finger to his lips but his name escaped her mouth before she had time to stop it. Too late, her hand snapped to her mouth as she gasped, realising what she had done.

“Oh my god Tristan they’re awake!” Kerra heard the woman say.

“Alright,” the man said, turning and looking right at Kerra, straight into her eyes, “let’s go and threaten them.”