Cosmic

After-31 Days

The planet goes silent for a moment. My breath catches and for a minute, I feel as though I'm already dead. I want to run, to scream out, to offer apologies to the highest order. But then it all comes rushing back and sound floods my ears. Zennebelle saunters through the street as though she's forgotten who we are. I want to latch onto her hand, maybe to soak up some of her confidence, but that action would be seen as childish.

The crowds press against us but they don't move to attack. They've come to watch us face death, not to play with the devil. My arm brushes against the gun on my hip and I look into the crowds of people. There is no doubt in my mind that most of these people had their own weapons. Most were Guardians and the rest were prepared service people, armed with various objects that I'd hate to go against. The walk that would normally take five minutes seems to go on forever, with the mob resembling one out of Frankenstein by the time we reach our destination.

The launch pad was one place off limits to most people. Only the most elite Guardians could touch. The only times normal Guardians experienced the excitement of coming in a space shuttle to Aleskon was on their arrival and on their departure. And upon departure you did not return.

Three Guardians stood at the fence that surrounded the cement. One for each of us. The fence shakes as our mob claws at the wires. They don't try to overstep their boundaries however. They taunt and scream from behind their protective cage. They watch the animals on parade, being herded into their uncaring man made habitats.

As I walk up the ramp, I take my last glance of the place I had called home for so long. I turn away from the crowds, fists clenched. Jonathan was already sitting inside the shuttle, hat in his lap. Zennebelle didn't step in behind me. She just stood on the ramp, facing out towards the crowd. The Guardians run around the shuttle, making sure it's ready for take off. Zennebelle turns around to look at us and for a second, I think she's crying. Her face isn't streaked with tears however. She takes her seat in between Jonathan and I, placing her hands in her lap.

Two of our executioners join us. They take a seat across from us and the door closes. Zennebelle's fingers clench around her bag, her nails digging into the canvas. The shuttle shakes and the engine roars to life. With a jolt, we are launched forward and up. The seat belts cut into our skin and I clench the arm rests for dear life. A sudden moment of breathlessness leaves me panicked when I realize that we've broken through the life support system. The shell that gave us oxygen, gravity, and weather on Aleskon only extended out so far and now they were leaving us to die among the cosmos. Zennebelle was wrong. It was simpler just to throw us out of the shell and leave us to suffocate. That was their plan. Definitely.

Then the oxygen from the ship restores itself. It rushes into my lungs and leaves me choking. Zennebelle just stares at me, probably wondering how I functioned as a human being. Tears stream down my face from the sudden changes.

The executioners glance at me and then whisper to each other. One places his elbows on his knees and his chin in his open palms. His name tag reads Jones. The other clears his throat and shifts in his chair. His name tag is unreadable due to the wear and tear of it.

"We have to check your provisions, to make sure that you packed the proper equipment." The nameless one clears his throat again.

"I'm quite sure we did. And wouldn't you prefer to wait for a woman? There are some...delicate items in our bags." Zennebelle clutches her bag closer to her.