The Heights of Perdition

by C. S. Johnson

  While he did seem to agree with her on that point, he dismissed it. “If you weren’t up in the tree in the first place, this never would have happened,” he pointed out. “Seems pretty silly to me.”

  “It’s not silly.”

  “Many people—many more than your beloved State will let you believe—have come to me and the crew for just such a salvation when we go down to Earth for supplies, or in this case, for battle,” he told her. “You’re the first one to come in a tree, and the first to resist new accommodations.”

  “It’s not like I would have been there if I’d known you were coming.”

  “Agreed,” the captain allowed. “Bad luck and poor timing happen to the best of us.”

  Aerie noticed as his left hand settled on his chest while he spoke. “Did I get you earlier?”

  “Mildly,” he assured her with a charming grin.

  Aerie felt her face flush over as she smiled back. And then a moment later, she blanched. Stop it! She mentally slapped herself. You are a prisoner. He is just teasing you. He wants information, and then he’ll likely kill you. This is not a game.

  “I thought,” he continued, “it might be easier for both of us if we could come to some agreements while you’re on the ship.”

  “A quick death is all I ask for.” She sighed and slumped forward, her resignation complete. It was too much hassle to wonder and to wait for her fate to be decided.

  He seemed surprised by her request. “I’d rather not.”

  Her narrowed eyes shot up to his, and he clarified, “I mean kill you at all, not kill you slowly.”

  “Why?” Her tone was disbelieving. “You mean you want me to give you information, don’t you? Why would you ever think I would do such a thing?”

  “Maybe so I have something to call you other than ‘Tree Girl’?” he inquired. “Or ‘Silly Child,’ perhaps?”

  When she just looked at him quizzically, he clarified his meaning. “Tell me your name. It’s a good place to start, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll never give you any information. How could I, knowing what I know about you?”

  “Perhaps there’s more to me than you realize.”

  “You’re a hateful monster! What else do I possibly need to know?”

  Aerie regretted her outburst less than a second later. The captain immediately left his chair and came close to her. Instinctively, she pulled back, but the pad behind her did not allow her to go far.

  As he drew near, she got a good look at his face; though no longer adorned with the pirate’s wig and beard, she could see he was still masked. The apathy, the cynicism, the playful whimsy—all of it hid a deep crevice of pain inside of him.

  The sudden urge to reach out and touch him shot through her. It was quickly followed by alarm and self-disgust.

  “From your comments, I would assume you have yet to learn a great many things,” he told her, his voice sharp.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked, boldly meeting his gaze.

  “First, your name is no small matter," he said. "Destinies can be made and shaped by your name, though whether good or bad, it is up to you."

  He turned away from her abruptly and began pacing by her bed. Aerie listened to his steps resonate with certainty and distinctness, like a military cadence, as she tried to breathe properly.

  “Second,” he continued, glancing at her from over his shoulder, “Despite what you might think, I am not a monster; merely a man.”

  “I hardly see the difference,” she retorted, still rattled by his presence.

  “I would expect that, given your education with the URS. Over the past decade, your beloved Daddy Dictator has managed to ensure your education, rigorous as it is, consists of really only following instructions, repeating the lies they prefer to the truth, and ignoring any logic that would unravel them or undermine their authority.”

  Aerie struggled to argue as she thought about her PAR. She thought about her final research presentation and her father’s stinging rebuke.

  “I’m not the one who is afraid to show my real face to my enemy,” she finally replied, feeling small for such a shallow attack.

  “You weren’t really given much of a choice,” he reminded her with a taunting look. “Hardly a matter of bravery.”

  “I am not afraid of anything,” Aerie snapped.

  “If you are not, then you are either braver than most, or you are just naïve.” He placed his hand on his chest again, where she had landed her earlier blow. “While I’ll give you credit for fighting well, you don’t seem to realize the greatest fears we face are often inside of us.”

  “What’s your greatest fear then?” Aerie asked.

  He paused, but only momentarily. “That I have nothing left to lose.” His gaze hardened. “So I won’t mind making a silly, foolish girl walk the plank off my ship.”

  Aerie blanched. Nothing would be more torturous than a public death. The General, besides being personally mortified and disappointed in her, would likely be punished, possibly along with her siblings. The thought of an embarrassing and shameful death made survival all the more important.

  It was time to redirect his attention.

  She nodded toward her wrists. “With all the tubes you’ve hooked into me, I’m not going to be walking anywhere. Especially if the ‘medicine’ in these tubes is supposed to sedate me or poison me.”

  “It would be hard for mostly vitamins and minerals to poison you.” As Aerie gawked at him, he added, “I know the tubes are an unpleasant hassle, but they’ll be gone soon enough. You likely wouldn’t be to walk around without it right now. Living in space is hard, even with preparation and adjustment. The medicine in those tubes will help your body recover.”

  Aerie glanced at the tubes in uncomfortable shock. They’re helping me? Why? Where’s the torture?

  She softened her expression. “You know, I’d be less inclined to hate you if you would release me.”

  “I’d be more inclined to give you a proper room if you weren’t so inclined to kill me.”

  His rebuke and reminder of her earlier attack stung. “I guess we are at an impasse then,” Aerie retorted.

  “I could make some concessions if you would.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like telling me your name, for one, instead of playing games like a child.”

  Aerie bit her lip. “What would I get in return?” she asked, desperately irritated to find she did sound just like a child.

  “This seems like a fair trade,” he said. Aerie watched while he pulled something out of his pocket as he moved closer to her once more. A small bump tumbled across the bed, and Aerie instinctively grappled for the small, sleepy kitten. When her binding cuffs caught her, the man pressed a button and released her arms from her sides. “Be careful with the tubes,” he warned. “The medic crew told me they’re cleaning your blood of Earth’s toxins and analyzing it for germs.”

  Aerie glared up at him. “Just give me the cat.”

  “Here. I had the vet check her, and she’s surprisingly healthy.” He thrust the kitten closer to her hands and then stepped back from Aerie’s bed. “She seems to take after you. She managed to claw my wrist when we first met.”

  Aerie hugged the tiny cat to her heart, burying her face in the familiar fur. “Moona!” Aerie cried happily, feeling a sense of relief for the first time.

  “Moona? Is that your name or the cat’s?” the captain asked, pulling out his stylus and the medical screen once more.

  “It’s hers,” Aerie snapped. “Of course it’s hers.” She reached out and stroked her cat, relieved to see there were no bumps or bruises on Moona’s soft body.

  “Why did you name her that?”

  “I found her on a day where I could see the moon through the clouds,” Aerie said, recalling that day clearly. “I saw her when I was walking around the Memory Tree, and then, all of a sudden, there she was. I couldn’t resist after I saw her white face in the dim light. I couldn’t decide w
hether ‘Luna’ or ‘Moon’ fit her better.”

  “So you blended it.”

  “Obviously.” Aerie felt a flood of frustration as she realized she was giving him more information. He had already managed to find a chip in her armor. She quickly went back to petting Moona and ignoring her captor, trying to find a way out of her situation.

  It was not easy … he was waiting for her with expectancy.

  Aerie wrestled with herself. The best shot she had was getting along for now, wasn’t it? And as angry as it made her to give the captain credit, he hadn’t put her in a cell, hadn’t tortured her, and hadn’t—she blushed—ravished her; all things he could have done easily. Though not too easily, she told herself.

  “Fine,” she acquiesced softly, giving into her desire, knowing it was against her better judgment. “My name is Aerie.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re not lying?”

  “What?” Aerie scowled. “No.” She sighed. “I didn’t even think about it. Maybe I should have.”

  The man surprised her by laughing. She stared at him; his laugh was soft and uncomfortable, almost like it had been a long time since he’d found anything funny.

  Which, she reminded herself, was probably the truth. How joyous could a murderer’s life be?

  “You’re better for it,” he told her. “It’s easier to keep things organized when you just tell the truth.”

  “If you think it’s so easy to keep organized, then what’s your name?” she asked, clearly surprising him with her challenge. She found it was harder to look away from him than it had been before. “I mean, I’d rather not call you ‘Captain Chainsword,’ if I can help it. It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

  “I’m surprised that the URS didn’t give you a full course on me, given the trouble I’ve caused them in the last six years.”

  Aerie shook her head slowly. “You know, you’re right. They didn’t teach us much about you, other than you’ve destroyed several of their bases and labs around the country.”

  “Well, that’s true,” the captain murmured.

  “And how you work with the last remnants of MENACE to bring down the URS from space.”

  He snorted.

  “And that you’ve been doing this for years because you want power and you want to bring the capitalists back.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “There’s only one thing I want,” he told her, and Aerie wondered, from his expression, if he was talking to her, or if he had forgotten her entirely.

  She quickly interrupted him, deciding she didn’t like being ignored by a stranger any more than she liked it from her own family unit. “So, no, they didn’t tell us your real name.” Which is odd, come to think of it.

  Revelation hit Aerie so hard she nearly stopped breathing. The State would never conceal such important information on an enemy like that—except for one reason.

  They didn’t know.

  Was that possible? That the State, with all its advanced technology and resources, didn’t actually know who they were dealing with?

  Renewed determination sparked through Aerie. She didn’t have to get accepted into the Military Academy to earn her family unit’s respect or her father’s love. If she could give them the information on how to stop Captain Chainsword, not only would she be welcomed home, but she would be heralded as a hero.

  The captain’s lips pursed together. Aerie caught her breath anxiously, wondering if he suspected the nature of her treacherous thoughts.

  But then, he slowly extended his hand to her. It took her a moment to recognize it as a handshake. She reached for it before she could stop herself.

  Instantly, her hand disappeared inside of his as he held onto her, and she held onto him.

  He was strong. She could feel small, rough patches on his palms as they rubbed against her skin. It was not an unpleasant sensation, to have his hand gripping hers, she observed, but it was still disconcerting. Her heart stilled in warning as she met his gaze, immersing herself in their daytime starlight.

  “Exton,” he said.

  “Exton.” The name felt unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, on her lips as she echoed it in her own voice. Her gaze narrowed and her tone shifted, mimicking his from earlier. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

  “Not about that,” he said with a smirk. “But don’t worry. I’m sure I will in the very near future.” He glanced down at Moona and softened his voice. “If you’ll excuse me … Aerie.” He dropped her hand unceremoniously and turned toward the door.

  Before Aerie could stop him, he left, her hand still tingling from his touch.

  ♦9♦

  Two days later, Exton paced throughout his room, frustrated he was unable to relish his time off-duty. Commanding the bridge and overseeing the Perdition’s course were both necessary and routine. They demanded his full attention and he was more than happy to give it while he was working.

  Since leaving Earth, he had struggled with sleep, only succeeding in getting a few hours before waking up to find just as many things on his mind as when he had gone down. He glanced down at his bed, the cushioned pallet and blankets askew from restless slumber.

  For a moment, Exton wondered how his mother would react if she saw how messy he’d kept his room. His mother hadn’t fought with him much when he was younger, when they lived on the outskirts of New Hope. But he could hear her chastisement clearly, telling him a messy room meant a messy mind.

  Exton sighed. Maybe his mother was right. Especially tonight.

  Everything is taken care of, he told himself for the hundredth time. The Perdition was on course to hide in the shadows of the moon once more. All satellite transmissions, following his traditional gloat to Dictator Osgood, had either been turned off or redirected by the Tech System for filtration. The Memory Tree had been processed for treatment. He’d managed to sidestep a few meetings with the board members of the Ecclesia.

  There was nothing else on his mind. Except for her.

  Aerie. His prisoner—if he decided to call her that—was fine. Hadn’t he just checked on her med reports a few hours before? She was probably resting.

  Probably peacefully, too, he thought bitterly. There was a strong temptation inside of him to go and wake her up.

  It wasn’t the first time since leaving her he’d been tempted to go see her again. She was … fascinating, he decided. Her passionate defense of her tree and attachment to her cat spoke of inner strength and compassion, traits he admired. The golden amber of her eyes complemented her persistent determination, giving her a compelling face that matched her personality.

  Yes, Exton decided, she was suited to her looks. The fiery hair, the piercing eyes, that expressive mouth—they all hinted at what was inside her heart and who she was. An individualist, he’d thought at the time, and an idealist, he realized later.

  He rubbed his ribs, tentatively pressing the area she managed to fracture, and wondered, amused, if she had managed to break through the barrier to his heart as well.

  Bitterness washed over him. What a shame she was wasted on the URS, he thought, not for the first time.

  There was no real reason to disturb her.

  For now.

  That didn’t mean he had to stay in his room.

  As he stepped out into the hall, Exton felt the night press into him immediately. For all of Emery’s insistence that the Perdition roamed in perpetual sunlight, he never felt its warmth; nighttime, in contrast, was compounded by an eerie feeling of quiet loneliness.

  There were still crewmembers working the lighter shift at night, diligently running the ship while others slept and rested. As captain, and part-time engineer, he worked alongside both shifts when the need arose.

  But, as there was not much need while his ship engineers were on top of their jobs, he was forced to find smaller projects. He smiled at the thought of the small toy truck on his desk.

  Much of his childhood had been an attempt to make his father happy. He had succeeded to the point
where fixing anything on the ship made him feel the warm approval of his dad.

  “Things haven’t changed, have they, Papa?” he muttered.

  He turned down the familiar halls of his ship; Level Ten sheltered his Captain’s rooms, allowing him some privacy from the rest of his crew up on Levels Two and Four. Level Three carried the sanctuary, the ship’s main dining hall, and several smaller rooms designed and furnished for entertainment. Level Five was mostly for storage and supplies. Level Six was home to most of the tech systems and their many needs. Levels Seven through Nine shared classrooms, learning stations, and access to the outer plantation rooms, where the Biovid could best be seen in all its glory, with the Ark tucked below. He passed through the main body of ship, making mental notes for the coming day as he drifted through the ship.

  Aerie had told him she thought him a ghost when she first encountered him. And in many ways, Exton agreed. He was just that—the living apparition of his father.

  The halls and inner workings of the ship might have housed the ghost of his father, but it was his mother’s spirit that had taken up residence in the Biovid.

  The Biovid was a huge, oval-shaped room paneled with greenhouse windows specially designed to capture the outer light and reflect the heat inside. Located in the center of the ship’s body, it stood over 100 yards tall and 400 yards wide. Soil and plants of all sorts, many of which had been pulled from Earth, resided inside the large room. More than one person remarked on how much it looked like a large rainforest had settled inside the heart of the ship.

  “Eden,” Exton murmured. “Biovid” was the more functional name. But “Eden” had been a popular preference for the members of the Ecclesia, and he knew many still referred to it as such.

  Stepping inside the Biovid, the air instantly transformed from the cool stillness of space to the light breeziness of life. The metallic floor gave way to soil, and the efficiency of the starship’s design was overwhelmed with the frivolous and the beautiful.

  Plants of all kinds were organized in different pods, some for scientific observation, others for appeal. Many looked overgrown or haphazardly placed; some had vines creeping out along the Biovid’s barrier, while some shot upward, reaching out to find the Suncatcher’s light.