Chapter Twenty-Five

     Peter had dreamt. He had dreamt of a solution, but when he woke up, the problem that he had solved and his own invention were blurry, pieces of an incomplete puzzle. The feelings of the dream were opaque, somewhat green, and reminded him of his second professor--monotonous and clear. It filled and created a hole in his chest with blue, he decided then. Though, he wasn't sure what the color blue would feel like. Empty calories: expanding but with no stance, then.

     He stayed there for a while, rolling these thoughts through his head. How would he argue the point of the color blue feeling in such-a-way? If he had to present it. Would he use a humane argument? How many people who felt sad described being blue?Or would he go for something more logical; the color spectrum or how the hottest flames were blue. It was a wonderful riddle to wake up to. So wonderful that he had forgotten to check where he was; or why his throat ground against itself and wouldn't let him speak his thoughts. That was until movement around him started--or, at-the-least--broke loud enough (or at the right moment) to catch his attention.

     Opening his eyes for the first time since he had woken up--it was much easier to cling to phantom dreams without seeing the real world--he took in the whitewashed ceiling. It hurt his head. No, his head was already hurting. His body was stiff. He allowed his vision to skip down his arms to find them wrapped and bandaged.

     Right. He was hurt.

     Peter sighed. He moved to sit. The small futon he was lying in belonged to the Amarthian Tecton airForce. Littered about him were other futons that contained other injured men. Some of them were blind, the other handful were lucky enough to be just injured. There were quiet conversations he noticed now. A few of the men spoke amongst themselves; about nothing, then. Yes, nothing of importance. They rarely spoke of anything important. Politics. Money to gain or power to blackmail out of governments. Peter smiled to himself sadly: if only they would talk about something bigger.

     Sometimes, however, he understood why they stayed grounded.

     The sound that had caught his attention moved and stole away his thoughts once more. He watched as the dark headed male rolled over again, sweat rolling down sunburnt skin and puddling on the stiff fabrics. Peter's next sequence of thoughts was about stitches. He didn't know much about medical procedures, but he did know that they could be improved upon. He had been promised higher technology at the military base; a procedure that would cause automatic cell regrowth over the offended area. He had heard of such a thing. It was an inspiring thought: and, though it was still in simple developing stages, could one day regenerate limbs. He was sure about it. Many doubted, but he would make it so. Yes, he would intern as a medic next.

     After his gap of being a pirate.

     He watched Linus for a long while more. He dabbed at the older boy's head with his sleeve. He was still burning up. What kind of medications were they using? Linus should be better. Even over-the-counter medication worked better than this. For a simple infection?

     "Peter?" The voice was quiet and coarse. He turned from his place on his knees to see Vint. Was that short for Vincent? He should ask. "Peter, what are you doing?"

     "Nothing. Are you feeling better?" Peter responded, his voice equally hoarse. Though they had been flying for three days now, neither of them had full control over their voice.

     Vint sat, groaning as he did so. "Any new word?"

     Peter shook his head. "No, from what they're talking about we're off to be arrested." He smiled ostentatiously. "Maybe they're right. Just a whole new batch of blind rats for the prison scientists."

     Vint took a pause at that. Peter decided he was working out whether Peter was joking or not. Peter wondered whether or not he was, too. Life in prison meant life being an experiment. Being found guilty of piracy could be a one-way ticket to the next radiation chamber.

     "No, no new word." Peter finally digressed.

     Vint nodded, standing and stretching out. HIs steps were clumsy--he was still getting used to the feeling of an airship--as he did so. Before he could respond the large double doors, mechanically controlled, opened. Air hissed as the doors peeled apart. A familiar woman stood there with two others. She nodded as she spoke to them. Wait, no, she wasn't speaking with the two at her sides. Someone in her ear.

     The two woman that came with her broke off and started speaking with the blind. Peter caught on to the only thing he needed to hear. "We're landing soon. We have to rise to the top deck."

     Peter watched through smogged lenses as they descended.

     The base was on the water. Their silver figure was reflected back at them by the grimy depths. No life was present in the waves. On the metal structure, however, the opposite could be said. The base was a small island--from their place in the hovering clouds, Peter could see a small chunk of it. Boats and airships sat waiting for command, others stirred to life and rose. People walked from here to their, their outfits cut at the shoulders to allow their arms to be encapsulated by metal bars. Peter recognized this invention. Something that allowed workers more strength when lifting objects and, when applied to the legs as they were not seen here, faster when running.

     Their brig was met with a large number of people; the majority being women. They waited in stance as the airing out of the bottom ceased and the bottom of the ship fell open. The blind were put into cuffs again.

     Peter watched the skies. There was a great deal of commotion about them. The pirate ship hadn't descended with them.

     "Captain," one woman said briskly, "we are getting reports that they haven't stopped."

     "Damn it!" The woman ripped, hastily pulling out a board from her breast. A few moments of hasty typing commenced before she put a finger to her ear. "We command you to dock now." A pause. "Yes, there is room for your ship. No, do not-- stop, there--listen to me!" She let out a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Descend and follow the direction of my men--women-- sir, yes, okay, I am connecting you to ground command." She pounded a few more things on her board before putting it away. Peter smiled. Only Alex could irritate people in such-a-way. It was a relief that his friend was alright.

     The captain turned to him and Vint. Linus lay next to them. "There will be a team coming up to help transport him. Follow them and they will get you the attention we could no offer." She promptly nodded before turning to leave.

     Peter didn't ask his question. No, not aloud; but how he wished to know where Jericho was. He didn't see him on deck when they were descening--but that could be quickly explained away when it was realized that Peter, Vint, and Linus had been some of the last to shuffle onto the top deck.

     Vint and Peter were set up in one of the domes and Linus was taken away from them. Peter was a little worried but trusted these woman. A new woman with a soft smile and golden eyes met them. She had them drink a sticky sweet liquid that had a strong taste Peter couldn't place; within the next couple hours, the two could speak normally again. The salv for their wounds worked even quicker. Peter had to wonder why these weren't the things on the ship.

     "They are still in development," the kind woman responded when he asked. "The probability of this working digresses ever thirty-two seconds."

     "So this is brand new!" Vint exclaimed, astonished by his rejuvenating skin.

     "Yes, made to order." She smiled brightly at them, nodding her head before ducking away.

     A man came into the dome at that moment, talking loudly with an obnoxious expression on his face. It was playful, a bit old, and so familiar Peter couldn't misplace it despite only being a member of the man's crew for a year. "Captain Stonely!"

     The man paused, shocked, and looked over at him. "So theys were tellin' the truth then?" Another man followed in behind him, a bit more annoyed.

     "The truth about--"

     "Captain?" Vint asked beside him.

     Such a strange place to find their missing captains, in a military base miles away from where they had been separated. Vint and his captain met, leaving the dome as soon as the kind lady dispatched Vint and gave him directions to where he would be staying until everything else was sorted out. Stonely stayed, sitting next to Peter with a nod of his head.

    "How many'd we lose?"

     A first questions to top them off. Peter wasn't sure if he was talking about echo Ridge or not--did he know about it? "A good chunk of them were left behind at Upito." Peter mumbled back to him. "With the bombs, there wasn't much we could do but leave."

     Stonely nodded, his hair--though looking somewhat combed still licked the edges of his jaw--shuddered with the movement. "Nothing we can do about that. We believe that a few of our men mixed with the water pirates and are sailing with that fleet, but cannot be certain."

     "You can't get ahold of them?"

     Stonely laughed, airy, almost forced. "Those fools wouldn't know what to do with a transmitter if we gave them a manual."

     The woman returned to them--Peter hadn't noticed that she left--and handed Stonely a few pills and something to drink. Peter watched it carefully. "What happened to you?" He asked. If the salv could work so effectively, Peter would hate to know what kept Stonely on medication.

     "I was badly hurt--" Stonely began, but was cut off by the pretty lady.

     "He's all healed now. We give him placeboes so that he'll stop bugging us to give him check-ups." She shot him a glare and Peter kept away a laugh. His captain, though serious on the battlefield, could be a child at times. It's what flamed Alex's behavior, no doubt, and what caused Jericho's shoulders to never unwind. Still, Peter saw something in the man's face. He was sad.

     Was he was blue?

     He had lost a deal of his crew, and he knew it. And now he sat, swallowing rice pills and pretending that his gut didn't screw about when he thought about seeing the state that his men were in. Peter tried to help: "they're alright."

     Stonely hummed back his response.

     "The crew we've brought back. They're al--all alive." This was true as far as he knew. He hadn't heard about any casualties. Suddenly he wanted to see the official casualty count.

     "Good, good, I'm excited to see them!" He lied.

     Peter nodded with a big smile. Maybe it was his optimism that made this lie feel real. He knew it was a lie, he wasn't a child; but, he knew it would be alright. It always was. People died, that was how things worked, but in the end things would work out, right? His smile grew with the thought that even if things didn't look like they were going to work out, they had control over making it do whatever they wanted. They could fix anything with just a bit of hard work. In the end they were in control.

     Stonely and he left then, the woman giving Peter the same directions she had given Vint. Stonely walked with him quietly, distinguished. A woman carrying a large crate passed them, the metal around her arms locked and making the weight look easy.

     "How long have you been staying here?" Peter asked. The situation was easy for him to grasp. He was quick to put the pieces together: watching the captain be picked up, having rescuers appear almost coincidentally--the tectons must have been following them. 

     "Since they picked me up at Upito."

     "What do they want with us?"

     "They want us to help fight against the religious groups that are making their way into citizen life."

     Peter took a moment to think this over. "Isn't religion something for an individual to choose? It's not really up to the government." That was how it always was. Religion was by individual. Socially it was suicide to follow too closely to a religion--everyone knew the common factors of life, and intelligent design did not fall into place--but never, as-far-as-Peter-knew, did the government get involved.

     "Couldn't tell ya'," Stonely shrugged. "They're offering a mighty sum."

     A woman looked like she was about to stop the pair of them, but Stonely passed he a smile that scared her away. They made it to the dome that they were staying. Walking in, Peter realized what it felt like to be a refugee. Food was being passed out, rationed. People sat on cots, many of them blind. The crew that had come in separately met up now. A few that had traveled on the pirate vessel were blind, having refused to be seperated: precautions, and now they were led by those who could see to sit on cots and be handed food. Once again, anger rose into the conversation. To top it all off a stench rose above the lot of them. Peter hadn't showered since he was on his own ship, and he knew those that he had roomed with on the military ship hadn't either. Thankfully, as he approached Alex, he observed that those who had come over on the pirate vessel had included bathing in their routine.

     Peter watched Stonely. He wasn't very good at looking hopeful where he stood. Not many looked up to greet him. Alex did.

     "Captain!" He announced. The two fell into a hug. They were close, Alex was close with most on the ship. 

     Breaking off, Stonely offered him an animated nod. It didn't make up for the loss of words. Alex asked all the questions Peter had; where had he been; why were they there; how was he doing? 

     He was just glad to see his crew doing well.

     Alex broke the news of the blindness.

     He also broke the news of Jericho.

      It was too much information at once, Peter decided. He had to look, find a way to fix this situation, but he couldn't find the right words. People could be like machines at times, where they were simple to fix; but others times they would digress into themselves, lie and snap, sharp against assistance. Peter feared that Stonely would find his edge soon. Would he add to the anger?

     That water captain Vint disappeared with earlier appeared. Vint was behind him, sitting on a cot and talking to the one Peter recognized as Warren. By the looks of Warren's wandering black eyes, he hadn't been fortunate enough to come out with his sight. He must have been on the pirate vessel.

     The water captain said something Peter would have never thought to be the right answer. "Toughen up." It was simple, two words, but Stonely seemed to find greater meaning in them and smiled.

     Opaque, green, then. 

     "Why of course. With today's technology, we'll find a cure for this blindness." Stonely nodded towards Peter. "And if they can't, at least that one survived. Pulled him right out of school. Fresh, smart, he'll find a cure."

     Peter offered him his smile back. "Of course, Captain."

     "Right out of school?" A strange voice broke in from behind them. Peter turned around to see who had spoken. A woman with a tight bun in her hair stood behind him. Her face was tired but only middle-aged, with thick brows that complimented a long jaw. She didn't wear the Amarthian uniform, but a coat. A lab coat. Peter could feel his curiosity rising. Alongside what might have been hope. Or fear--could have been fear. She stuck out her hand. "Jane. I am currently working for the Amarthian government to establish better technology."

     Peter took her hand with a large smile. Things did always work out in the end! "Peter. I am currently working with pirates to establish better technology."

     A small smirk lifted the side of Jane's lips. "How would you like to work as my assistant?"