by Rishi Sriram
until he grew tired. With each hit, blood spurted out of Nathan’s mouth, the
fight wasn’t balanced. He was afraid he was going to lose; he forced his gut
to subdue a little longer, and swung his foot up at Isaiah’s face. It hit him
straight in the nose, and he jerked back, blood streaming down his chin.
It was time for Nathan to turn the tables. Letting out a low groan, he
recovered from the previous punches and swung around, using his
momentum to fly into Isaiah’s chest, slamming him into the side of the
shuttle. He no longer felt sorry for him, letting out all of his pent-up anger
and frustration right then. He tightened every single muscle in his right arm,
squeezed his fist, and pounded the fallen leader in the face. “That was for my
father’s cafe.” He struggled to his feet, and kicked him in the stomach,
saying, “That was for my father.” He was breathing heavily, his chest
expanding and then contracting.
Isaiah tried to move his foot to land a kick, but Nathan caught it before it
even moved. He took a slow breath, memories of all the things that had
happened in the past week—all those killed, all the families separated, all the
hope crushed, every single ounce of it was imprinted into his mind. This was
his moment to pay him back for all of that. He reared his fist back, anger
swelling throughout his body. All he wanted was to take him down; there was
no other thought in his mind. The sanity had left his mind; all he wanted now
was cold revenge. He threw the punch at The Chancellor, and it sliced
through the air in a swift motion. A split second before it was going to hit,
Nathan stopped his fist, tears falling from his eyes.
“Why did you kill all those people? Did you have to do it? Think of all of
the people who lost their families, their dreams of making the world a better
place to be, and now you’ve nearly killed them all. I was one of them, I might
have left my home to escape the chaos in my city, but I wanted just as much
as anyone else to colonize this land and now most of them are dead, because
of you! After all of this, I still can’t bring myself to land the final blow, I’m
so pathetic,” said Nathan, the bitterness in his voice shocking himself.
Slowly moving his hand up, Isaiah gently held his hand, a smile ensuing
on his face. “You’re…a good…kid.” He coughed blood to his right side.
“I hope you…can forgive me for everything I’ve done, and lead…the
world to a better place…I’ll finally be with my son…” Isaiah reached into his
pocket and pulled out a purple vial. He uncapped the top and paused for a
moment.
“I carry this with me at all…times, in case better comes to…worse and I
have to take my own life. It’ll kill me instantly. Goodbye, kid.” He poured
the liquid into his mouth and his arms fell to his sides. His heart was no
longer pumping. He was dead. Nathan had finally done it. They had won. The
senseless killing would be over, and they could all return home. Aside from
everything that Isaiah had done, Nathan made up his mind that he would give
him a proper burial and service. Isaiah was a good man before his son’s death
—even after—continuing to want the best for humanity. That event had
pushed him over the edge, turning him into a sadistic mass murderer. He was
still a good man at heart, wanting the best for humanity, it just so happened to
be that he was willing to take a different approach that most others weren’t
fond of.
Following suit, Nathan collapsed on the ground, completely exhausted,
on the verge of passing out. He rolled over toward the shuttle door and used
whatever energy he had left to scream, “I’m still alive! You gonna come get
me?” He heard laughter outside, and they broke down the door. They rushed
to his aid, lifting him up so he was resting on the seats. They were shocked to
see the fallen body near him. They couldn’t believe that the man, who was
thought to have been the savior of their generation, had tried to kill them all.
Their hero, Christ incarnate, how a man like he has been the cause for so
much misery.
One man walked over to his body and seemed ready to beat at his dead
body. Rousing together his remaining energy, Nathan opened his mouth to
stop him: “No…Don’t do it. He was a good person like most of his…certain
events traumatized him to be the man that tried to kill us, but that wasn’t the
true him…The true him cared for his sons, and tried to make…their lives
better.” He coughed, clearing his sore throat. Before he could say any more,
the man stopped him. “I get it, don’t waste your energy and rest up. I was just
so angry that I—” his voice faltered, but he caught himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll
make sure no one else does anything, and relay them the message.”
Nathan was happy, he felt relaxed knowing that, and closed his eyes,
wanting to take a nap. He didn’t quite get his chance, as he was interrupted
by the other colonists. One by one they came, bowing their heads—moved to
tears, thanking him for everything he had done. He smiled, touched by their
feelings. After they had thanked him, they didn’t forget to thank the other six,
either; everyone given due appreciation. Shortly after, the colonists slowly
shuffled into their seats, allowing Nathan to take his rest, and preparing to
take off. The other six were also seated, sound asleep, taking in their long-
awaited sleep. There were a few qualified backup shuttle pilots among the
colonists, who had initially been assigned to the mission in case of an
emergency, and this was their emergency. The backup shuttle pilots took over
the cockpit. The engine suddenly roared, and the shuttle shook, they had
figured it out, the shuttle had taken off; destination set for Minneapolis.
Everyone was so relieved, their minds were at peace. They couldn’t wait—
they were finally going home.
CHAPTER 15
HOME SWEET HOME
Fact: Mars can be spotted with the naked eye during the nighttime from
Earth.
The ride home felt like the shortest one yet. Everything that happened
before seemed to flash by. It was only when the events actually
happened that it seemed to take forever. Apart from that, they were nearing
the end of the journey; things were slowing down and becoming clearer.
While messing with the controls of the space shuttle, the colonists had
managed to alert the control center that they were returning, and that the
world was in for a tremendous surprise. The connection ended shortly after,
but the important information had been passed: their home was ready for
them to return.
The colonists were enthralled. Although in short time, the death of their
families and friends had begun to sink in, and they felt melancholy. In what
only felt like a short while, the shuttle had soon entered the atmosphere of
their home planet, and though they hadn’t landed yet, they felt home. This
was their home. The endless blue sky surrounded them, clouds re-entering
their midst, encasing the glass windows. The clouds gradually passed by, and
in the distance, miniscu
le cities began to magnify, the world coming into
clear sight. Splotches of color could be seen for what they really were; it felt
like someone had removed the dirty lenses in their eyes and replaced them
with clear ones.
The shuttle made a loud thud as it landed, gears whirring and the roar of
the engine quieting. They were finally home. The shuttle doors opened with
its nostalgic noise, and everyone retracted their seatbelts, eager to touch the
earth again, to smell the fresh air, to be where home was. The first people to
leave the shuttle were the injured, following them, a group of adult colonists
who volunteered to escort them to a hospital and get them treated. The seven
heroes were the last to exit the shuttle, assisting the elderly safely out of the
shuttle. The colonists left the shuttle, and then passed through a large fence
between them, and a loud crowd of people awaited them. They were
bombarded by news reporters, numerous microphones and cameras shoved in
their faces. All at once, questions were thrown around—not one colonist was
allowed the comfort to return to their home. It was nearly impossible to
comprehend what was being asked. The colonists simply gave the reporters
an awkward smile and shuffled through them as if to say, s eriously? I just
came back from an extermination camp; I don’t have time for this. Huddling
through and around people, Nathan subtly managed his way to the side, far
from the others. His escape was a failure, a news station pulled up behind and
reporters crowded around him. He sighed, knowing that he might as well
have taken the time to answer the questions then run. He kept his composure,
taking a deep breath in, and then exhaling slowly.
“I’m sure all of you have many questions to ask, and I will answer them
one by one. Take it easy on the other colonists as well, they’re extremely
tired and they want nothing more than to return to their homes.”
Beside him, a tall female reporter shoved her microphone into his face.
“This is Channel 107 reporting,” she began. “I’m here with one of the SS
Noah colonists with a few important questions.” Nathan stifled a laugh, at the
irony of the situation.
“Here is my first question, the one I’m sure everyone else is wondering:
why are some of the colonists back here—aren’t you supposed to be…
colonizing? And how are the rest of the colonists doing? Deducing from the
images Crane Enterprises has revealed of the colonists, they seem extremely
busy.”
Nathan looked at the reporter in the eyes, dead-center. “Let me start by
saying that those pictures are all fake, including the ones I was in.” Nathan’s
statement shocked her.
He continued, “This next thing I’m about to say...it’s going to be hard to
explain. The dome that everyone depicts as a colony on Mars is not exactly
what it seems to be.” He looked around uncomfortably, to continue his train
of thought.
“Those domes…are actually extermination camps. We never really came
around to actual colonization work. We were completely fooled.” Avoiding
eye contact with the camera, Nathan scratched his head.
“The colonists who have returned with us are the only ones still alive
from the expedition. This can’t be said in any softer way, but…the person
behind all of this was the leader of our world, The Chancellor.”
The reporter stepped back a little, taken aback. “It—can’t—be,” she
stammered in disbelief. “The—he—The Chancellor is a ge-ge-nuine man. He
would ne-ne-ver do something like this.” Her breathing was shallow; she
seemed ready to move on to interview another colonist, denying the words
that came out of his mouth.
He sighed. “That isn’t far from the truth, and The Chancellor was a good
man, although that version of him has long since disappeared.” The reporter’s
attention was back toward Nathan.
“I could tell that he only wanted the best for the world, it’s just that his
ways of getting things done weren’t the most pleasant.” The crowd around
Nathan had accumulated, with news reporters and fellow colonists piling up.
He could tell it was going to take a while, so he had to remain patient. At
whatever cost, he knew that the world had to know what was going on—they
needed as much information as they could. In that instance, it was worth
sacrificing a few extra breaths of air. His eyes fell upon a rusty bench nearby
and he moved toward it, seating himself comfortably. He began telling the
reporters, sequence by sequence, everything he knew from the second they
left their home, to the first day on the red planet, to the day their beloved ruler
died. He even told them that he was partially responsible for The
Chancellor’s death, for which he received many skeptical looks from the
reporters. There were some who left him due to the things that he said. This
kid is crazy. There is no way. That’s impossible. The crowd was full of
unbelieving youths; however, the older people seemed to take it better than
the rest.
The skeptics still couldn’t take it, they knew that what the kid was saying
about their leader wasn’t true—it couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
Though it all added up, there was nothing they could say against him;
after all, he had lived through the misery himself. It was all the truth. One
reporter even cursed at him for accusing their leader like that, but Nathan did
his best to convince him, even going as far as to say that he truly believed
that The Chancellor was a good man at heart. However, he and the reporters
found it difficult to defend someone accused of committing mass murder. An
hour later, many of the colonists’ families had arrived at the scene, many
devastated to see that their relatives had already passed away, crying and
searching for their loved ones. Others were delighted to see their loved ones
back home in one piece. After Nathan had answered the heap of questions, he
scrambled, searching for his own parents. There was nowhere to look; he
couldn’t clearly see quite anything in the massive crowd. There was an
abruptly strange feeling in his gut; he felt as if his parents had only then
entered and was searching for him.
As TV stations and other officials began to pull up, countless screens
were displayed of what was happening within the muddled crowd. His own
face highlighted a majority of the screens, a repeated clip of him speaking
about the events on the red planet. Each time the word “Chancellor” was
stated, heads flipped to face the screen, and then turned back. In the middle of
the crowd, people sort of shifted to each side, allowing two people to walk
through, one disabled and the other, his wife.
It was Nathan’s parents. His father had come out all the way there, and
was thoroughly worried, though his face brightened up the moment he saw
his son. His mother had the same expression as when he had left, although
stress lines had formed on her forehead, her eyes directed straight at her son.
She ran at him with open arms, giving him a tight hug. “I’m so glad to see
you,” she said. �
�Are you alright? I mean, I heard about what happened, and
—” Here it came, he saw it coming, the anger was boiling.
“That darn Chancellor, wherever he is, I’m going to go right up to his
face, and—”
“Mom, he’s dead,” her son interrupted.
Her expression softened a little, “Oh. Well. Then we have some catching
up to do, don’t we? Together—as a family. Let’s go home. Your dad was
worried sick the minute they released the photos.”
He was confused. What was she talking about? It was just a normal
photo, and it was convincing.
“I’m telling you, Nate, the second your father saw the photo of you
writing with your right hand, we knew something was wrong. You’re left-
handed! Although there was nothing we could tell the officials, imagine us
my son has the pencil in the wrong hand, so can you bring him back? ”
Nathan chuckled softly, wiping his eyes. Things were going back to
normal, yet it wasn’t quite over yet. He still had to do something about the
entire expedition situation. Thoughts ran in his mind. Would they have to
completely cancel the expedition? But that wouldn’t get humanity anywhere;
it would just be taking a step backward.
Unless he could oversee the Mars expedition and help teach the
information. They would need to hire professionals to fly the ship and to
properly train the colonists, which meant it, could still work. His parents
wouldn’t like it, but he could convince them. He was about to check up on
the others when he remembered something. What in the world where they
going to do about the children? He remembered Emily saying something
about her aunt still being at home, so they were fine, but what about Max and
Parker? It was likely that both of their parents had already died to the Ravas.
Did that mean they had to take them to an orphanage? He couldn’t just
leave them there. He whispered to his parents, “Um … mom … dad? There
are two children that I sort of took in, and they lost their parents. They have
nowhere to go, so what should we do?”
His father moved his wheelchair closer toward him and lowered his
breathing mask. He opened his mouth a little and spoke softly, “We… huff…
could take them…to a friend of mine. He deals with situations… huff…like