Welcome Aboard

It was a direct hit. Blast went straight through the aircraft, setting it ablaze as it detonated. The impact of the explosion shook the transport vessel briefly, but then it was over.

“All hostile aircraft have been eliminated. Repeat, all hostile aircraft have been eliminated,” spoke the Captain into the microphone at his chair.

The alarm stopped, and a sense of relief came over the bridge as the lights adjusted back to their normal brightness. In the background, one could hear a request for a medic to report to the bridge.

Camden rotated the gunner’s chair around, finding the bridge crew staring at him. He couldn’t hold back his smile as he turned to Madam Cecilia, who was looking at him with an inquisitory squint. Though she was unable to hide an impressed look that slowly made its way to her face. The wind blew into the room from the now broken window, a literal breath of fresh air after the stress of the past conflicts.

The medic team arrived with utmost haste, confirmed that the gunner was, in fact, still alive, and took him down to the medical bay. Or, whatever passed for a medical bay on this ramshackle transport. The captain exchanged glances with The Madam, the two of them communicating silently. The Madam nodded, turning back to face Camden.

“Come with me.” she said calmly.

Camden’s smile quickly faded as he complied, though it wasn’t like he had any other choice. He was, however, currently unrestrained, which was undoubtedly a better position than the one he’d been in mere minutes ago. The two of them walked back down the bridge hallway.

“You could have escaped. You understand that, correct?” she asked, head not turned to look at him.

“Yeah. I… I know.”

Madam Cecilia stopped, turning to face him. He stopped as well.

“Then why didn’t you?” she inquired.

“I’m not fully sure why myself.”

His voice sounded tired. What he wanted to say was that he didn’t want to stand by and let them all be killed. That he felt he just had to do something about it. But even he wasn’t certain if that was the truth.

“Well, I guess if this vessel didn’t survive, I’d probably die out in the wilderness. And it just so happened that I could help.”

The Madam smirked slightly. “Interesting answer. We’ll make a fighter out of you yet.”

She paused, turning back and beginning to walk again. Camden followed. The Madam contemplated her next thought before she spoke. “But you never did answer my question. Where do you come from, Mr. Valaraki?”

Of course, back to this subject. Camden hesitated, thinking about his response.

“Well…” He trailed off. “I’m not sure how to answer that. One moment, I was down in my grandmother’s old basement, the next, in a raging inferno. And then I woke up here. Does… does that make any sense to you?”

He really didn’t think she would believe him. Frankly, even he wouldn’t believe him if he hadn’t been the one to experience it himself.

And especially considering her response when he’d told her what a smartphone was, the chances of her accepting what he said as fact were practically zero. Why had he even brought it up? Wouldn’t it have just been better to lie, say that he found it one day lying on the ground or something? He was stupid for even telling the truth.

The Madam appeared deep in thought, considering what she’d just been told. Eventually, she appeared to come to a conclusion.

“Walk with me.”

That certainly was not the answer that Camden had been expecting. But it was undoubtedly a welcome change from the intensity of the interrogation from earlier.

They headed down another length of corridors, and then down a mechanical elevator, operated by another series of cogs and gears. It was strange, Camden thought to himself. That a civilization of people with weaponry so advanced would rely so much on physical, analogue mechanisms. Everything seemed to run off of steam engines and cogs, much like his grandmother’s Automaton back home. He’d have to remember to ask about it later.

Once the elevator reached its level, the two of them exited onto a walkway, which led through some sort of repair shop. Well, shop probably wasn’t the right word. It was more like a full on repair facility, engineers and mechanics fixing various types of vehicles, weaponry, and other unidentifiable devices. The air down here was somewhat warm, and smelled of oil and solder.

As Camden took in the scenery, Madam Cecilia began to talk once more.

“We’ve been running low on Valos Alnovarium as of late. All of the extraction sites have been commandeered by The Iron Hand, so it’s not like we can simply go fetch our own. That has unfortunately left the best way to replenish our reserves to be setting up ambushes. Lure in the drones, shoot them down, harvest their Valos Alnovarium. And since we’re at it, harvest parts from them to study. If we can figure out what makes them tick, we can find a better way to stop their clock, so to speak.”

Camden was thoroughly confused. This world, their advancements. None of it made any sense to him.

“...Valos Alvo what now?” he asked, almost not believing what he was being told. This time, it was his turn to be befuddled.

“Oh, do you not have it where you come from? Perfectly safe for consumption in its liquid form, but as soon as it gets turned into a gas, extremely powerful. Different potencies result in different effects, anywhere from supercharging our steam engines at low concentration, to being concerningly flammable at high concentration.”

As they continued to walk by, Camden saw one of the various machines spark and pop, then go up in violent flames. Nobody appeared to be hurt, and a couple of engineers rushed over to put out the fire.

Madam Cecilia laughed to herself. “See what I mean?”

The two of them continued, passing by a station that was disassembling the wreckage of one of the dark aircraft. It must have been one of the ones from the ambush at the city, its shell and internals brought onto the vessel after these people were victorious, Camden presumed. A thought crossed his mind.

“What… What happens to the pilots?” he asked, motioning to the disassembly that was happening to his left.

“Pilots? Oh, no, they’re fully automated. Drones, remember?” she replied. “Not a single soul behind that overly smooth shell.”

That was better. At least Camden hadn’t actually killed anybody during his singular heroic gesture.

The Madam continued speaking. “I’m not convinced The Iron Hand even has many living beings in its ranks anymore. We used to come across their injured soldiers all of the time, back in the day. Heck, some of them even decided to defect and join us. But those days seem to have long passed.”

She seemed almost nostalgic. Just how long had this conflict been going on?

“The Iron Hand?” Camden asked.

“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you? A faction dedicated to nothing but conquest and control.”

She paused.

“They’ve been trying to eliminate us for so many years.” Madam Cecilia looked down slightly, a somber look overtaking her visage. “Believe it or not, we’re all that’s left.”

Camden didn’t know what to say. This was it? A presumably once sprawling civilization, reduced to the crew of a single vessel? He didn’t know what to say.

“...I didn’t know,” he replied eventually.

The Madam smiled a wry smile. “You need not feel guilty. Considering how little you seem to know of this world, you’re barely to blame.”

“So then…” Camden thought out loud. “...why do you all keep running?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.”

He continued. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to try and stop them? You’re just delaying the inevitable at this point. No use in doing nothing.”

Madam Cecilia laughed halfheartedly. “You think we have enough resources to launch a full scale siege? You’re funny, I’ll give you that. I assure you, nobody on this vessel is doing ‘nothing’. For now we bide our time. Work on gathering enough artillery and skill to just barely stand a chance.”

“But you’ll only be losing more time, more lives, no?”

The woman sighed. “I’m afraid it’s a risk we have to take.”

It was clear that she wasn’t exactly content with only being on the run either. But Camden supposed that she was right. What other choice did they have? There was no telling how many drones The Iron Hand possessed, nor what other weaponry they might have defending their headquarters. Though with that now in consideration, he did disagree with her on one point. If The Iron Hand truly was as powerful as she made them out to be, the vessel wouldn’t stand a chance. Not now, not ever. It would take a veritable miracle for them to win.

But Madam Cecilia was no fool. She knew just as well as Camden that this was the case. But it was no reason to give up. After all, better to hope to win then not.

As they continued walking, the two made their way into a larger room, which was crowded with innumerable people, some tending to their wounds, others simply talking amongst each other. And that’s when Camden realized. Everyone on this vessel, or at least most of them. These weren’t soldiers, they were just regular townsfolk. Civilians. The ramshackle armour should have been a dead giveaway, now that Camden thought about it. Boxes and crates crowded the room, along with a smattering of chairs and tables. Nothing seemed placed in any intentional order. More so that there was simply room, so they were placed there. Miscellaneous bits and pieces of scrap and debris were strewn across the floor in a disorderly manner. Decades of mess. Of constantly fighting to survive.

“Out of curiosity, was there anything of note in your grandmother’s basement?” Madam Cecilia asked as the two of them passed through the room. What a strangely specific question. Camden eyed her with a slight suspicion.

“...Yeah, some weird machine or something?” Camden responded. “A bunch of pipes from around the house led into a metal sphere.”

Camden paused, before speaking once more. “Why do you ask?”

The woman didn’t respond. They both continued into a last hall, this one more quiet than the rest of the vessel, seemingly nigh-abandoned. Which on a vehicle with such limited space, was interesting to note. The hall was formed like a hexagonal tube, a series of pipes running along the ceiling, precisely clamped down, organized in a way Camden couldn’t immediately identify. They stopped at a sealed door, and after the woman entered a code on the oversized rotary lock that was placed in the middle, entered inside. The room, more than anything, smelled of aged metal, mothballs, and a very slight hint of vanilla.

In the centre of the room, lied something hauntingly familiar. Camden could just make it out in the darkness. Something spherical, with pipes that jutted out of it and into the walls and ceiling. It couldn’t possibly be…

With the clack of a lever on the wall, the lights showered the room in a warm light.

Camden couldn’t believe it. It was the machine. Well, a machine. Not the exact same one he found in the basement, but the similarities were striking.

Though this one held one key difference from that that laid in his grandmother’s basement: it looked professional. Which is to say that the one back home felt undoubtedly handmade, having been put together with whatever scrap parts could be salvaged from who knows where. Comparatively, this one had bespoke parts, built with the utmost craftsmanship. Even with the wear of time and having been in diffuse for seemingly a couple of decades, it still stood as a magnificent statue, intricate designs and swooping patterns carved into the metal plating. The attention to detail was breathtaking. Whereas the pipes of the first machine had been set haphazardly, bundled like a tangled mess of wires found behind a desk, the ones here that were sorted into grids and specific routes. Some having been run in stylistic directions for seemingly no need beyond aesthetics.

It was evident that this one was not simply utilitarian, but was also designed as a timeless piece of art. Perhaps more timeless than one could know.

“That machine that you spoke of. Did it happen to look anything like this?” the woman asked, gesturing to the elegant contraption that stood in front of them.

Camden was near-ecstatic. “Oh my gosh. Yes, yes that’s exactly it! Okay, maybe not exactly, but this is definitely the same type of thing.”

“I thought that might be the case,” The Madam said, grinning slightly. “What you see here is quite possibly the coalescence of hundreds of years of engineering. A device that, in the simplest of terms, transports a living being from one location in space to another.”

“Wait, you’re saying that it’s a teleportation device?” Camden asked, completely shocked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“More or less. Though I myself only ever saw it working once, and that was a great many years ago,” she replied.

Camden’s mouth was agape. He hadn’t died. He never died! And that meant that… that he could go back! Camden took a deep breath, nearly unable to contain his excitement.

“So then send me back to my realm, planet, whatever!” he said enthusiastically. “Y-you owe me that much for saving the bridge.”

The Madam looked somber. “It won’t be that easy, I’m afraid.”

“What? Why?”

She sighed. “Because it’s broken, Mr. Valaraki.”

No. It couldn’t be. His one, singular method of getting back to his world, and it was…

“Wh… what do you mean ‘broken’?” he asked, his heart rate quickening, thumping against his rib cage.

The woman responded coldly. “Broken. Adjective. Meaning no longer in a fully functional state, or ceasing to operate.”

“I know what broken means,” he snapped at her. “And I think you know that.”

“I do.” she responded calmly. “I’ll put it simply: the machine doesn’t work anymore. It’s been inactive for gods know how long.”

She turned to look at the intricate contraption, her eyes tried with a weight that only comes from years upon years of stress and failure.

“We spent so long trying to track one down. Lost a lot of people, good people, retrieving it from a guarded facility located in the west. And then the piece of trash doesn’t even do anything,” she spoke, her voice seething with an anger that leaked through her typically calm and composed exterior.

She composed herself. “We haven’t been able to get it back up and running ever since. The repair division believes that the core must have died out. Which is… highly unfortunate.”

She continued, turning back to face Camden, whose anger was lessening, if only by a little. “Cores aren’t exactly manufacturable. At least, not anymore. Their creation process was a point of contention back in the day, funnily enough, with only one person on the entire planet knowing the full set of instructions.”

“Seems like a pretty big oversight to me,” Camden replied, frowning.

“You’d be right. And now she’s missing. Hasn’t been heard from since The Iron Hand launched their first crusade. Best case scenario? She doesn’t want to be found. Worst case? Well, I’m sure you can come to that conclusion yourself,” The Madam finished.

“Yeah, I can put two and two together,” replied Camden.

There was a silence that arrived between them. In the past 15 minutes, Camden had somehow come closer and further than he’d ever been to getting back to the old house. And now the chances were practically zero. Not literally zero, mind you. Just so low that he felt he’d be better not trying than wasting his time.

The Madam began to speak once more.

“There was a prophecy, you know. Some document written in one of the historical texts that we were able to recover. It stated that, well… here, take a look.

What kind of random interjection was this? Trying to just change the subject after making Camden think, even for a second, that he wasn’t entirely screwed. This had better be important.

She handed Camden an ancient sheet of metal, its form thin and worn. A great effort had been made to preserve it, though that hadn’t prevented it from the ever-constant wear and tear of time. On it, was a section of handwritten, inscribed text, that read as follows:

There will come a time when all feels lost,

When civilization falls, broken and tossed.

A hero will rise, from lands afar.

A traveler, an explorer, a prodigal star.

Wielding the blade, shining and true,

They will restore what once was, to start anew.

Camden flipped the sheet over. On the other side, was a complex pattern of concentric circles, irregular lines, abstract shapes and groups. Was it a map of sorts? It certainly wasn’t like any that he’d ever seen. Camden looked up, finding the woman's crystal blue eyes focused on him once more.

“It sounds like it’s talking about you, Mr. Valaraki,” she said. And somehow, she actually sounded genuine.

Camden scoffed. “That’s absurd. I’m just… I’m just some guy. ‘Camden Valaraki, professional failure’. I’m not your ‘prodigal star’.”

This was stupid, he thought. He’d had it with failing to live up to people’s expectations of him. He was supposed to be the best when he was younger, and for a time, he was. And then he wasn’t. He was meant to be alongside Maya through whatever trials they faced. And then he wasn’t. And what, now he was meant to save the last remaining fragments of a civilization? And now he wouldn’t.

“Listen, you don’t want to bet all of your lives on me. I’m no hero,” he stated, hints of animosity still lingering in his speech. He continued. "And what makes you think that I'd even be willing to help your cause? Sure, you seem real virtuous and all, but I'm not exactly willing to risk my life here. "

The Madam simply watched, eyes slightly squinted, trying to read his face.

“I have a home…” Camden began to say.

He corrected himself. “A friend to get back to. And if the machine doesn’t work, I’m not just giving up. I’ll find another way back.”

It was The Madam’s turn to be irritated now, it coming through clearly in her voice. “Another way? With what, with who? Mr. Valaraki, there is nowhere else to go.”

She pointed to the wall, motioning at the land outside of the vessel. “You said it yourself, you will die out there without help. What’s next, are you going to go visit The Iron Hand, see if you can appeal to their better nature?”

“And what if I did? What if--”

Camden stopped himself. This wasn’t right, this outburst. Threatening to join the genocidal maniacs. Even if he wasn’t going to help these people, he certainly didn’t want to fight against them. He wasn’t going to burn the only bridge he currently had. He slowed his breathing, returning to a less emotional state.

“There’s… a crucial piece of information that I may have been keeping from you,” The Madam said reluctantly. She hadn’t wanted to bring it up, knowing what may unfold, but at this point it was likely the only way.

“...what is it?” Camden asked, a residual tension lingering in the air.

“Well, there’s good news, and bad news. The good news, is that we are aware of a single remaining core. And from what we have been able to derive, it is fully functional.”

Camden stopped himself from getting his hopes too high. There had to be a catch here.

“Right. And the bad news?”

A grim look overcame The Madam’s face. “That from everything that we know, the only other remaining core is currently in the possession of Lozanthos Stone, leader and founder of The Iron Hand. And something tells me he wouldn’t be so eager to give it up.”

Silence, once more. Camden could tell what this was. It was an incentive. A good one, at that. But it didn’t seem like a trick. From all he could tell from The Madam’s facial expression and tone of voice, he believed she was telling the truth.

Camden took a breath before speaking. “So, just to clarify, you’re claiming that if I help you, and in the incredibly slim chance that we win against The Iron Hand, not only do you all get your freedom and whatnot, but I’d be able to go home?”

“In theory, yes, that’s correct.” Madam Cecilia replied, her voice very mildly warmer than it had been. “This agreement favours both of us.”

She leaned in, holding her hand out for a handshake. “Now, do we have your help, Mr. Valaraki?”

Camden’s mouth turned into a slight grin. He put his hand in hers, shaking it firmly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Alright, what’s the plan?”

The Madam went back to her typical, professional attitude, though the feeling was definitely more positive than it had been just a moment ago.

"Rest well. We’ll have an intern show you to your room. Take today to acclimate yourself to the new setting. Take a stroll around the transport, explore if you so wish, you get it. Or even just stay in your room. I imagine today’s been a long day. Meet me tomorrow at 0700 back on the bridge. Understand?"

Now that Camden thought about it, he was feeling quite tired. After all, it had been night back home when he was sent here. And since the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel himself getting weaker by the minute.

“Copy that,” he said in reply.

"Very good,” his new ally replied. "Welcome aboard, Mr Valaraki. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a station to return to."

Camden followed Madam Cecilia back to the bridge, where he met up with an intern who seemed a bit tired himself. Then again, these people probably didn’t rest very well, with the ever-looming threat of being found in the middle of the night.

He was then led down a different hallway, seemingly similar to the one that he had attempted to escape from. He supposed that they’d repurposed one of the dorm halls to be whatever they needed at the time. And that time it happened to have been an interrogation room. The intern inserted a key, unlocking and opening the plated door of the dormitory. The room itself, much like the makeshift interrogation room, was relatively small, as dormitories tend to be. The furniture wasn’t much of note, consisting of a thin bed, a little shelving unit to hold one’s items, a mirror, a chair off to the side, and a small desk area, all constructed in the same metal and bolts aesthetic. Though what was of note, was a younger man sitting at said desk, his bleach blonde hair swept to one side, reading what appeared to be a fantasy novel. He seemed to be at least five years older than Camden, who wondered to himself what passed for fantasy in this new world. He’d have to ask someone later.

The stranger looked up from his book at the intern, a distinct sense of irritation painted on his face. “I thought I said no roommates.”

The intern raised an eyebrow. “If you’d rather he slept in the common area, you–”

“He can sleep in the engine bay for all I care.” said the stranger, interrupting the intern. Clearly this man was not a fan of new people. Or people at all, for that matter.

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” the intern replied, attempting to reason with the stranger.

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” he snapped back. “We used to pick up strays all the time before The Iron Hand burned them to the ground. Are there really no other free rooms for this straggler?”

The intern raised his hands in mock defeat. “Not that I know of. And unfortunately it was a command from the bridge. I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

The stranger let out a long sigh. “Fine. You, new kid. This half of the room’s yours, this one’s mine. Your business is your own, my business is my own. I don’t want to have to talk to you more than necessary. Got it?”

Well this new person was certainly abrasive. But Camden supposed he’d have to get used to it, if he was going to be sharing a room with him for the foreseeable future.

“Yeah. Sure,” Camden replied.

He went over to his side on the left, settling into the chair that was positioned there. The cushions provided only an adequate amount of support, but it wasn’t like he was complaining after the day he’d had.

“Oh, I’m Camden, by the way,” he said, introducing himself.

“Levo. I suppose it’s good to make your acquaintance," the stranger replied, eyes back on the book he was reading.

Camden decided to settle in for the night. It had been a long day, and even though darkness had yet to fall, he was having more and more trouble keeping himself awake. Levo,wordlessly tossed him a blanket. Huh, maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all. And with that, Camden drifted into a proper, restful sleep.