CHAPTER NINE

  The few hours since take-off had passed at a monotonous drawl. With only the flickering crawl of stars for entertainment, restlessness plagued Soran. The boy spent many nights staring into the drifting cosmos, imagining the unseen treasures that awaited him in that vast expanse. Turns out it was just more space, with the odd rock peppered into the nothingness. Soran peered into the cockpit. Tugg was sprawled over the flickering control panels, slumber rendering him, and most of the equipment, ineffectual. El had already retired to her bunk, and Soran thought it best to follow her lead. He crawled into the living quarters, slumped onto a weathered sofa, and reminisced about his mundane life on the Hyacinth.

  Although the station was his home and all he had ever known, the freedom afforded to him by the Horizon was exhilarating. Soran knew this was the life Lanic wanted for him. Out sailing the stars with companions, genuinely feeling what it was like to be a galactic citizen. Finally, he was getting to experience life on his terms, and to his surprise, it wasn't all that bad.

  "I can't wait to tell you about it. About all of it." Soran said, closing his eyes. He was in no doubt that his friend was still alive and that their reunion was soon to come.

  An alarm sounded, laced with the static of busted loudspeakers, assaulting the boy with its raucous tone. He was back on the Hyacinth, engulfed in red emergency lighting. Its harsh glare stung his eyes, blurring his surroundings. The haunting echo made it feel like the station was deep underwater. Soran felt a cold breeze rush past, prickling his bare arms. He clutched them to his chest in an attempt to stay warm. He proceeded down the hallway and noticed a bright light emanating from the distance. A vaguely familiar silhouette basked in its eerie glow, cigar embers crackling away at its side. He tried to move faster, but the wind's icy fingers scuppered his attempts. As the gales fury accelerated, Soran's pace lagged to a crawl. Betrayed by his breath, it had become a thick mist, obscuring the distant figure until it faded from perception. He pushed through the biting winds with an outstretched arm, calling out as he did so.

  "Lanic!"

  His cry birthed a sound wave; the station's walls cowered at his determination, falling from their fixtures and crashing to the ground. The ripple tore through the hallway, disturbing everything in its path. Upon reaching the end of the hall, the shadowy figure dispersed, carried away with the brumal gale, leaving Soran alone and dismayed.

  He awoke with a shudder as the ceiling fans jolted to life, blasting him with a current of icy air. Sleep had offered no respite. The weight on his shoulders, it seemed, was to remain.

  Sitting up, he grimaced at his scruffy overalls. The Hyacinth logo was barely visible under the layers of grime; stained petals and fingertips were all that remained. Each station established by the Navy carried this emblem, a hand reaching toward the heavens with a flower resting on its palm. It symbolized a new life granted to the galaxy by its benevolent ruler, an opportunity for prosperity blossoming in these budding hubs of civilization. In reality, they were just glorified gas stations to facilitate the Navy's continued expansion. An all-encompassing veil of oppression meant to shield the galaxy's inhabitants from the barbarism of the pirate hordes. Though no matter how wide the gaze of the government stretched, the unease in those under its watch never seemed to wain.

  Sleep-deprived and caught off guard by his still unfamiliar surroundings, Soran inspected the progress of their journey. He approached the Holo-projector and sighed deeply. They were still several hours away. Although relieved his slumber had allowed him to evade most of the journey, the prospect of entertaining himself until they arrived was less than appealing.

  Soran heard the faint murmur of coughing from above, masked partly by the powerful melody of Tugg's rhythmic snoring. Noticing a ceiling hatch was ajar, the boy peered into the darkness, attempting to glimpse what lay inside. Standing on a loose crate, he slid the hatch carefully to one side. Above the cockpit was a hidden bunk, though, with the weapons and empty liquor bottles strewn around the floor, it looked more like an abandoned bar. The sound from before returned, this time far clearer. Not a cough, but the unsettling melody of gentle sobbing. Ranna lay on a paper-thin mattress with a strange apparatus strapped over his eyes. Flashes of light illuminated his tears as they leaked from the sides of the device. Whatever its purpose, it was causing the Captain an immense amount of distress. Soran reached forward, attempting to remove the device, but a swift whisper came from below, startling him enough to falter his balance. He ducked down out of the hatch and saw El standing there. Her skin was a verdant shade of green, and her eyes were wide with concern.

  "Don't touch him." She whispered, pulling at the straps that hung from Soran's overalls. He happily obliged, stepping down and returning the hatch to its original position.

  "Whenever he goes to his bunk, we leave him alone."

  "Do you know what it is? That thing on his head." Soran asked, raising his hands to his face to simulate the goggle-like device.

  She made sure Tugg was still asleep and took a deep breath, unsure whether or not to disclose the information.

  "A Negessen Visor. It helps him forget the dark things." She said, moving her eyes to the floor.

  "Why... why was he crying?" He asked in a dulled whisper.

  "To forget, he must remember. Every time, he must relive the memories, the painful ones. That's the price for escaping them during the day." He watched as El's skin changed from green into a pale yellow. The boy couldn't fathom the caliber of event that would condemn someone to such a drastic routine.

  "Let's get some sleep. We need to rest up for the mission," El said, heading back to the living quarters. Soran's gaze returned to the hatch, contemplating the cruel fate that Ranna had to endure. He followed El and slumped back onto the cold leather of the sofa. As they attempted to drift off, sorrowful whispers serenaded the pair, an unconscious tale of woe uttered through the lips of a broken man.