Kodoku no Angel

(The Angel of Loneliness)

By Charles Drake

Dream 3, Tanbenka no Angel

Marsel had lived on Io all his life. He'd lived through food riots, breakdowns in the Terra-Formers, plagues, and even a few minor wars. He'd even gone exploring, back in the day, hiking through the volcanic regions that still belched forth sulfur into the atmosphere. He'd seen sights of heavenly beauty, and of hellish import. In his one hundred and seven years, Marsel was sure he'd seen everything that Io had to offer him.

These "Demons" that people were so fired up about spotting in the wastelands... poppycock! He'd explored those wastelands and nothing lived out there. Nothing could live out there; at least not without the proper supplies. And, no matter what these "White Devils" might actually be, Marsel was sure that they had to live, same as the rest of the universe. They were probably just some dehydration-induced hallucination.

This particular morning, Marsel decided to drink his morning tea on the deck out in-front of his house. He didn't know, even as he sat out there, why he wanted to sit outside in the wind. There was merely a feeling... that something was going to happen today. And, no matter his age, Marsel was always interested when "things happened."

After about ten minutes, a whine began to fill the air. Marsel checked his watch, frowning. "The nine-thirty shuttle from Europa ain't due for another half-hour," the old man murmured. As Marsel moved to take another sip of his tea, he noticed that the whine was growing louder. Arching his neck, he gazed up into the yellow sky, trying to spot the source of the sound. It took him a moment, but eventually he found it.

"Well, I'll be damned..." Marsel murmured, taking another sip of tea. With an odd kind of fascination, he watched as a space cruiser did a belly-flop into the desert and skidded rapidly towards the city. The ship spun, friction tearing off two of the spent Ion engines. The thrusters that yet labored to keep the ship in-flight cut off one by one, belching large plumes of fire for each's dieing breath. Shedding heat armour like dog hairs, the ship skidded to a stop just a few hundred meters from Marsel's house.

Marsel finished his tea, then walked back into his house to wash up. "I was right," Marsel said to himself as he scrubbed out the tea cup, "that ain't something you see every day."

***

Alita felt herself falling, cradled under a pair of strong arms. The world was a mass of swirling colors, sounds, sensations. Chaos awaited Alita on the other side of her eyelids. Screams of pain, of metal, of fire pelted against her ears. But, always between Alita and harm were the arms. The arms held back the fire, letting her cuddle peacefully in the dark depths of reality.

Out of the darkness, Alita felt a touch on her lips. It was a gentle touch which she couldn't place at first. Slowly, Alita opened her eyes.

A canteen was pressed to her lips, its refreshing contents moistening her lips. Instinct took over. Alita took a long pull of the water, then glanced around. Konvar sat beside her, holding the canteen. Above his was yellow... yellow fading away into gray. A few stars shown down, daring to face the light of morning on Io. Blinking, Alita sat up.

"Careful now," Konvar said softly, "don't over do it. You got kinda banged up when the ship turned on its side."

"I'm fine," Alita stated, blinking to clear her head. "Just a tad dizzy." Once her head was on the same level as she was, Alita returned her attention to Konvar.

"You look kinda frazzled yourself," Alita noted. She nodded her head at a few seeping burns on his left arm. "Those look second degree." A sudden realization hit Alita; he'd gotten those burns keeping her out of the fire.

"I sprayed them with antiseptic," Konvar returned softly, "It's fine."

"It's not fine," Alita stated firmly. "You need a bandage." Glancing down at herself, she selected a section of her black T-shirt that wasn't too badly torn up. "Here," Alita continued, tearing off a long strip of the soft fabric, "this'll do." She carefully scooted over to Konvar and tied up the burn, making sure to give it the right amount of air.

"Thanks..." Konvar murmured, smiling.

A few moments later, an elderly man approached the area of wreckage where the pair of them sat. Konvar waved him over, then stood up. After helping Alita to her feet, Konvar turned back to the old man.

"Marsel," Konvar began, "how are they?"

"Not as bad as they should be, I'd warrant," the elderly man, Marsel, replied. "Doc Rykof's lookin them over now. The ones that got out of the ship alive are gonna stay that way, says she. Little spitfire, that one, but she's the best Doctor these parts ever saw."

"Good, good," Konvar said, picking his way through the debris. Alita followed, staying quiet.

"I say," Marsel went on, "I never figured on seein the likes of you here again, Konvar. When that ship of yours went down, I figured the Reaper would be with you right quick. But, it seems them earth Doctors know their trade too. Anyway, glad to see you in one piece, boy."

"Glad to be that way," Konvar said, laughing. "And, it's good to be home. I haven't smelled fresh air in years."

Alita coughed, wondering how anyone could call this dusty filth "fresh air." The entire moon smelled like rotten eggs. But, if one grew up breathing this pea-soup... she could understand an attachment to such things. After all, she'd really started to miss the sight of sheet-metal buildings. The city that stood before her could have been plucked from the outskirts of the Scrapyard, for all she could tell. In some sick and twisted way, this place was very comforting. But it still reeked of rotten eggs.

"Well, there's been some strange times transpirin since you left us," Marsel said, shaking his head. "Those Dissers, got no respect for those of us who keep this place runnin. First, they close up their doors and tell us to fend for ourselves. Well, that's fine by me, but some people's got family there. Ol Jimmy's kids are attendin the college there. He can't even get a call through to them! And now, with these Demons..."

"Demons?" Konvar asked, exchanging a small glance with Alita.

"That's what O'connor called 'em," Marsel confirmed, "White Devils. Some kinda monsters running around in the desert. I didn't believe when he told me 'bout seein 'em, but now with your ship in the state it was.... Survivors I talked to didn't hear no gunfire, and there were no burns on the cruiser's hull. That armour had some strange scratches though, I'll tell you."

"Where abouts in the desert did O'Connor see them," Konvar asked.

"The western side of the Lat-region," Marsel replied."

"Near Dis..." Konvar murmured. Alita put her hand to her face, then did a head motion in Konvar's direction. Konvar nodded slightly in reply. Marsel watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, I'm guessin you kids gotta lotta stuff to be gettin on with." Marsel tipped his hand to an imaginary hat, then headed back towards his house. "Good luck to you, Konvar. And happy hunting, young lady!" With an obscure grin, Marsel hiked up the steps that lay before his door and disappeared inside.

"What do you think?" Alita asked after Marsel's door closed, "About the Demons, I mean." Konvar turned away from Marsel's house, a grave expression marring his normal composure.

"They could be technology based on that biological weapon we're supposed to be investigating," Konvar observed. "Some kind of side effect of research. Maybe Taskrel's trying to grow his own ship, and these 'White Devils' are the screw-ups?"

"If they are... and if they took out a space cruiser," Alita said softly, "Then I really, really don't want to see what a success looks like."

"I'll second that," Konvar replied, smiling. Alita "heh"-ed, stepping over beside him. A long, oddly peaceful silence followed as the pair gazed up at Jupiter rising in the east. The majesty of the swirled planet somehow managed to overshadow everything else that was going on. Or maybe, Alita thought to herself, it was their worries that made the simple pleasure of watching the heavenly body rise seem suddenly so important. It had been so long since she'd gazed up at the heavens.

A faint touch brushed past Alita's hand. It was an innocently inviting touch.

It had also been a long time since she'd felt human contact. People had touched her after her resurrection, but it had always been a medical touch, or a business like handshake. For the first time in centuries, Alita felt the touch of a caring hand. With a faint sigh, Alita returned the touch. Slowly, Alita allowed Konvar to intertwine his fingers with hers.

"Lonely," Alita whispered, "Kodoku no Ann-gel-lu."

"The Angel of Loneliness," Konvar murmured, "How poetic."

"Is that how you feel too," Alita asked, "Lonely?"

"I've been alone all my life," Konvar said softly, "I don't know what it feels like to not be alone."

Alita squeezed Konvar's hand lightly. "Like this," she told him. After a moment, he smiled and squeezed back.

"You're not alone anymore, Alita," Konvar murmured.

"I know," Alita replied.

***

Odanov glanced up from his desk next to the observation deck as the main door to the suite swished open. A man wearing a deep green uniform that matched the color of his eyes stepped through, his expression grim. Worry etched lines around the man's emerald eyes, making his hawk-like appearance seem yet more predatory. Odanov had often wondered why his master insisted on a uniform color to match his eyes; the deep green uniform made the Minister look so overdressed. However, from Taskrel's expression, Odanov knew that it was not the time to be discussing fashion sense.

"Those fools on the committee fear anything that hasn't passed through their digestive system," Taskrel murmured darkly, "preferably twice."

"I'm guessing that the committee didn't approve your suggestion to resurrect God," Odanov ventured. Taskrel nodded absently, moving to find his pressure suit. Odanov picked up his helmet and followed the Minister to the airlock.

"They refused to hear me out," Taskrel grumbled. With a twist, he locked his helmet into place. Once all the checks were completed, Odanov cycled the airlock and opened the outer doors. Together, the pair stepped out onto the balcony. "The bastards ordered that the project be halted until their inspectors could approve the new direction of research."

"How can they ask that?" Odanov demanded rhetorically, "They knew when they initially approved the project that once we began the manufacture of components, the process could not be stopped."

"And now, with the project half completed, they decide to change their minds," Taskrel sneered. "Baka... utter morons..." Taskrel sighed, leaning against the railing. Below, the creature stirred slightly, its eyes once again fixing on the Minister. Taskrel smiled slightly, gazing back.

"The Key is ready, Sir," Odanov murmured, "We can move at your command."

"Elena..." Taskrel whispered softly, his eyes locked with those of the creature, "Your name is Elena now."

"Sir," Odanov prompted, "The Key is ready, Sir."

"I won't let them destroy you, Elena," Taskrel whispered. Below, the creature, Elena, turned its head to point up at the Observation deck. A small support mecha working near its neck was crushed, but neither Taskrel nor Elena noticed. Opening its mouth for the first time in more than a million years, Elena spoke. A sound somewhere between whale song and a whimper echoed in the cavern.

"We turn the Key tomorrow," Taskrel ordered, not turning away from the balcony, "Finish your pet experiement, then ready the Krels. Once we turn the Key, time will run out quickly."

"Yes, Sir!" Odanov stated, heading back into the airlock.

***

Alone, atop a yellow dune stood a pair of figures. Gusts of sulfur-dust pelted them, but neither acknowledged it. All was focused upon their destination; Dis.

"If it starts raining fish," Alita murmured to Konvar as they trudged through the Western Wastelands, "I'm going to be convinced once and for all that the gods are playing with my mind."

"It doesn't take impossible rain to convince me that the gods are having their wicked way with my brain," Konvar said, "I just have to look at the universe around me. The way I figure it, the gods were pretty damn drunk when they came up with this place."

"And now they're all bedridden with hangovers, right?" Alita ventured.

"Well, that would explain the glaring lack of miracles, spontaneous generation, and planetary collision that we've been facing for the last few millennia," Konvar noted. "It would also explain why God hasn't shown up and told us all which bloody religion is the right one."

"Pfft," Alita scoffed, "That's a laugh. I mean, faith in of itself is a powerful tool. Choosing to believe something, just for the sake of believing, can be one of the hardest things a person ever has to do... and one of the most spiritual. 'Religion' is the anti-thesis to faith, because it dictates that you have to believe it. The choice to believe is what makes the revelation so powerful."

"Oh, well put," Konvar said, grinning, "I haven't had a philosophical conversation this good in years!"

"Eh, it's just the setting," Alita demurred, "After all, Jesus met Satan in the desert. There's just something inherently spiritual about places like this."

"I thought you didn't believe in organized religion," Konvar commented.

"I don't," Alita replied, "But I never said the Bible wasn't a good read." She grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of noon on Io.

"Heh," Konvar said, returning the grin, "I don't deny th-" Konvar paused, turning his head slightly. Alita listened too, trying to detect whatever it was that Konvar was listening to. After a moment, she found it; a high pitched shriek coming from a ways behind them.

Together, Konvar and Alita spun to face the sound. In the distance, maybe 500 meters away, a group of strange white creatures were gathering. Alita quickly removed a set of Trinoculars from her pack and zoomed in for a closer view.

The things were each about seven feet tall with wide shoulders that led into ridiculously long, spine covered arms. Instead of hands, each creature possessed huge hook-shaped claws. Above each of their shoulder sat a wing like extension of the scapula that served no apparent purpose other than keeping the shoulder safe. Between the faired shoulders sat a roughly pair-shaped head, wide end forward. One dark eye perpetually stared out from above the huge, salivating jaws.

"Dear God," Alita whispered, "They look like a Geiger acid-trip."

"Naw," Konvar murmured, his own Trinocs up, "Geiger wouldn't be caught dead drawing monsters that pasty looking." There was a pause, then Konvar put away his set of Trinoculars. "Nine of them," he said softly,

"Heading this way," Alita added.

"Have you calibrated the heavy ordinance?" Konvar asked.

"Not yet," Alita said, "I didn't think we'd need it for recon. Sorry."

"It's okay," Konvar told her, "Neither did I. How about small arms?"

"One katana, one Damascus," Alita listed, "two side-arms, one shot gun, and the un-calibrated Missile Bees."

"I'll take the katana and the shot gun," Konvar said, "you take the rest." Alita nodded, then divided up the weapons from her pack. A slight frown crossed her face as Alita realized that she'd forgotten her keyboard in the rubble of the cruiser. At least she still had her harmonica...

Once they were equipped, Alita and Konvar started forward. The Demons hadn't spotted them yet, which put time on their side. That was the only advantage they were going to get this round. Slowly, they crept closer to the creatures.

With only about one hundred meters left between them, one of the creatures spotted them. It shrieked a warning to the others, then charged towards them.

"Come on!" Alita yelled, flipping open her Damascus blade as she ran forward to meet it. Konvar followed, cocking a shell into his gun. Together, Alita and Konvar attacked the Demons.