THE LAST BORN

F O U R T E E N

Malcolm didn't remember what it feels like to feel emotions. He doesn't remember the difference between feeling happy and feeling angry. He can tell from facial's expressions, voice, and body language most of the emotions, but cannot experience it himself.

His heart has been still for two centuries, and yet, sometimes he feels as if the organ is beating again, whenever she's around.

Malcolm looks around her small room. There is only one single bed, which is just about her height, if she's a half-inch taller, then her toes will be dangling out. A small bedside table where she puts a glass of water and now a tiny pot of some kind of moss, a dresser which mostly empty because she doesn't cover her body in a traditional way, and a door to a small bathroom.

Malcolm looks to his left where Noir is laying down on her side facing the wall, clearly fast asleep. It's very late, almost three o'clock in the morning. But he had been busy. Malcolm takes one step and sits on the edge of her bed.

Why, out of all the women, human or not, which he met, his heart decided to beat again for her?

The one he feels suspicious about the most. They still don't know where is she from, what was she doing in Milkyway. Who is she affiliated with? So much uncertainty, so many possibilities of danger, and yet...

Malcolm takes a handful of Noir's hair. It doesn't look nor does it feel like human hair. Her hair doesn't have strands, it just blends together like a waterfall, a pitch-black waterfall. Her hair is softer than strands of silk and feels lighter too. They don't reflect the light, they absorb it. The blackness stays the same whether she is standing in the darkness or she is standing under the light.

Her skin feels like velvet, soft to touch and cold on his skin. He quickly becomes addicted to her touch the moment she traced letters on his hand. The sensation brought a sense of rushes in his blood, even to the parts of him that are enhanced and artificial, he can feel the mechanism working as if his brain sending a signal to them to move.

And the noises she made sometimes, her gasps, her chuckles, her hums, they are so light, so bright, that he knows not many people noticed she made noises. But he does, and since the first time she gasps lightly, his brain has stopped working to think about another way to bring more of those sounds out of her lips.

With his knuckle, Malcolm traces a line softly, gently on her arm. He closes his eyes and savors the new experience; emotions. It doesn't burst from his chest, more like seeping from his end of nerves and going to his center like venom. Filling his bloodstream with something too foreign and yet, he knew he felt something like this before, a very, very long time ago.

After more than two hundred years of void and emptiness, Malcolm finds himself filled with emotions again. And although he must admit most of it is distrust and suspicion, he knows there is also something else, something that he doesn't want to acknowledge or put a name on.

He will deal with that particular emotion sometimes later in the future.

***

ANA

It's a nightmare.

Darkness is around me, but I can hear cries of terror and desperation from afar. Fire is above me with the smoke around me, making it hard to see where exactly am I. The air smells like what I imagine death would smell like, burnt, foul, and old. I look around and can tell immediately that I'm still inside Nirvana. The floor seems to lean to the right and I have to keep my balance so I won't tumble to the side.

My legs and arms are shaking from fear, deep inside me I know that we're under attack somehow. Has the UG finally found us? Or are we dealing with bandits? I just need to... I don't know, I don't know what I can do, I don't know what I need to do. Where are the rest? Are they still on the ship? Have they escaped? Are they... are they dead?

The fear multiplies as I think of that possibility. No.

No! Please no, no, Jackie? Jamal? Helen? Those women who are working in a greenhouse? The cook? Those children?

Him. I need to find him, I need to... I need to find him, and... and I need to bring him here to save the rest. With a newfound purpose, I put my palm on the metal wall and hiss in pain as the heated plate touches my skin. I ignore the sting and keep moving forward. I stumble over, and over again, as chunks of broken pieces of the ship hindering on my path, making it harder for me to walk I'm leaning against the wall of the corridor.

Flipped tables, chairs, and doors that came off of their hinges are carelessly on the never-ending hall, I duck, I crawl, I do whatever I need to do to keep moving to the front. Pushing pieces of metals, woods, running through fire, not letting anything stop me from keep moving forward.

Once in the while, I can hear cries of pain echoed from behind me, from in front of me, and every time I do, my limbs shake harder. My cries of frustration are rising and rising in my throat. I swallow often to keep my desperation down and keep moving forward.

Where is he? Where could he be?

I put my hands on my front and feel a door, mustering all strength left I have, I pull the metal piece and almost run inside, rushing to escape the thick, choking smoke and the fire. I fall on my four with blood seeping from my palms. I blink a few times to adjust my vision and lookup.

A choking sound escapes from my throat as I slowly crawl back to the door behind me. My eyes are wide with horror looking at the worst sight in my lifetime. My throat feels dry and my chest suddenly feels painful. The heavy pounding in my brain tells me that I haven't taken a breath since I entered the room.

I notice this room, the biggest space in the ship is the dining hall, but instead of tables and chairs, I see people hung by their necks, blood is pooled on the floor, gathering every drop of whatever is left in the bodies above. I see familiar faces, Helen lost her eyes, and Jackie's body is hanging by a nerve connected to her head, Jamal lost all of his limbs, some people are unrecognizable from the burnt, some of them are skinned. The room is bright, proudly displaying every horrific detail for my eyes to see, every slit, every stabs, every broken bone, every disconnected join, everything.

And, right in front of me, is him, bounded and forced to kneel. Half of his face, the artificial part of his face, was ripped out of his skull. He looks down and I can't see his human eyes or if he still has any. Blood is pouring from the missing part of his face, soaking his jaw, dripping on his naked chest. His whole body is full of cuts and stabs.

Behind him is a big creature I have never seen before, with three times my size, three eyes, and rows of sharp teeth. His skull is longer than human's with rows of small bones hugging where I assume his brain, like ribs would to lungs. His eyes are bright yellow and he has two slits in the middle of his face as his nose. With no lips, his mouth parted, smiling devilishly showing his sharp, jagged teeth as he sees me looking at him. He turns so he's fully facing me, his shoulders shaking as if he is laughing. He moves his arms and I catch something bright in his massive hand.

The creature swings his hand and the bright light makes contact on his back. He grits his teeth clearly in pain while I can see blood splashing from where the creature's whip hit him. Blood drains from my head while I watch the creature whips him again, and again, and again, while I just sit there on the cold floor with a shock that paralyzes me.

This is his punishment. I hear the creature telepathically talk to me.

No! No! No! I want to scream, I want to shout, I want to tell him to stop, I want to run and put my own body between the whip and is back, I want to... I want to... but I can't move, I can't even close my eyes to stop watching the gruesome scene in front of me. Chocking on my breath as I see him finally stagger forward and fall flat on the floor, even then the creature keeps hitting him a few times until I know, I know for sure, that he stopped breathing.

He paid his sins. Said the creature.