The Colony

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