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Literature Text
Day 1
Well, it happened. I got picked in the lottery this time around. There are only 200 of us on the ship, so I guess the odds aren’t anything special. This journal is a sending-away present from my brother, Kane.
I’m new to this, so perhaps I ought to start with me. I’m Ian: 14 years old, but that’s 20 years by the old time standard. I’ve lived for a long, long time on this ice planet. That’s all anyone ever calls it, as it’s not worth the time or effort to name the damned thing.
No one really remembers anything about when we first came to this planet. Memories of the frontier ships, carrying full loads of hopeful people who just wanted a home to replace the one that man had ruined—memories of the equalizer probe, which was blown off course by god knows what and crashed into god knows where on the other side of the planet--memories of the first expedition to find that crashed ship which was (and is) our only hope of turning this frozen waste in to a planet which is truly habitable—we don’t remember any of that. But I will never be able to forget the third day after we made landfall.
Perhaps they stayed at bay because the sound of our ships landing scared them off. But they must have changed their minds afterwards, because those…things…they came right as the sun began to set. Because of the planet’s slow rotation, most people had forgotten that night was coming once it finally did. We were too focused on setting up homes to fend against the cold. Oh, and of course there were those who were happy to sit on their butts and watch others do the work. But that night, as the sun set and the sky was lit up by magnetic streaks of light, one of this god-forsaken planet’s horrors descended upon our camp. The other ships also came under attack, but I understand ours had the worst of it. We were attacked by creatures with segmented bodies and two limbs, creatures which could burrow underground like worms before surfacing and ripping their prey to shreds. We call them snakes, because it’s not like the name’s taken by anything else currently living. No one had the imagination to come up with a new name.
Now we send teams of people every two years, selected randomly by a lottery. Each of the ten colony ships sends a skiff across the ice with anywhere from four to eight people They have a heavily fortified mine set up more or less in the center, so the material costs can be covered without salvaging from the ships. Replaceable, not recoverable…just like people. They say the goal is to find the equalizer, but brother thinks that it’s actually just population control. Guess it’s my turn to serve our home ship, go out there and die.
My brother suggested that I keep this journal during the trip. “It will help you keep track of what’s going on, preserve history for future generations after we turn on the equalizer apparatus and make this planet a home we can be proud of.” I’m not sure whether he was being sarcastic or not. Well, it won’t help me fight off a snake, but maybe it’ll help me fight off boredom.
Day 2
Woke up bright and early. Also woke up tired, but it’s the same for all of us. I guess I can’t blame this journal, since I’m no worse off. But for something that’s supposed to help me feel calm and composed, it sure could be doing a better job. Or maybe this is calm and composed for me, and I just can’t tell the difference. I feel angry at something, but at the same time I don’t really feel anything at all. Maybe that’s the problem: I don’t know how to “feel” very well in the first place.
I don’t suppose I mentioned the team yet. Kell is the leader, and he’s a few years older than me. He knows what he’s doing, he doesn’t waste time and energy being either nice or angry. He’s focused on leading and putting on an air of authority. It’s important that authority not be contested, of course, so I don’t blame him for making a point of showing that he is better equipped to lead.
Timothy is the youngest, younger even than me. He’s very soft spoken, innocent, and good-natured. He seems to be in shock at being chosen, and hasn’t said more than a few words since we set off yesterday morning. I’m not sure how he got selected, because normally 15—no, I’ve had a hard time not using the earth years I was taught on the ship, but he’s only 10 years old here—isn’t old enough for him to be automatically entered in the lottery. That’s not supposed to happen until he turns 12. I wonder if his family enrolled him behind his back.
Then there’s Roman. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me, but we tolerate each other at least. We’re roughly the same age, but he seems to insist that he knows better than me and that I should learn from his example. That example is optimism, because it seems realism is too realistic for his liking. I disagree, but neither of us can seem to win. I don’t want to win, anyway: I want to be left alone. I’m resigned to my fate, he doesn’t believe it exists. We’ve agreed to disagree, at least for the moment.
Apparently, the group from ship 4 isn’t content to watch from afar. Their leader approached us later in the day and offered their companionship over dinner. I can’t technically say they didn’t ask us, since they did. But what was Kell supposed to tell them? They shared their own food with us, though, so it wasn’t all bad. Roman was certainly happy, and he struck up a conversation with both their leader and the girl that came along as an ambassador of sorts. She was quiet, but she smiled and nodded a lot. Her leader explained that she had been unable to speak ever since the day of reckoning, when the snakes first attacked.
Day 3
Kell was up early today to get the ship moving, which meant that the rest of us got the luxury of proper sleep. A good man, he is. I don’t know if I have the motivation to be like him, but I can certainly imagine that if I could learn to view the world through his eyes I’d be a lot better off. He’s not painfully happy and excitable like Roman, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the high-risk of death.
The ship 4 has actually begun travelling close enough that we can talk with each other throughout the day so long as we shout over the engines. I kept quiet as much as possible, but Roman just had a field day. And it’s spreading, this extroversion. Ship 6 joined in as we made camp for the night, and that makes for 16 of us resting around this bonfire. Picture that: between our three ships, the daily allotment of camping oil was enough for a bonfire.
Before we left, we were taught that sticking to small groups was safer because the snakes don’t travel in large groups and they can only effectively attack one area at a time. But this means we can rotate four people at once, as opposed to the one we’d have on our own. I wonder…nah.
Day 4
It’s been cloudy all day, and breezy wouldn’t begin to describe the gusts that have made steering the skiff a near-impossibility. Kell keeps at it, and he seems to know what he’s doing, but I know I sure couldn’t keep track of what direction we were facing. The ice planet sometimes has spells of weather like this, and it’ll probably last through tomorrow. I’m not sure how the clouds ever form when it’s an icicle here year-round. Maybe it’s not water that’s making the clouds at all. Who knows? It’s not like anyone has the time or means to send a probe up there to find out. And it wouldn’t make a difference, I’ll bet.
I don’t know why, but I like Timothy a lot more than Roman. Since he’s come to terms with his situation, he’s revealed himself to be just as optimistic. Maybe it’s because he’s so soft-spoken. Maybe it’s just because he feels like the younger brother I never had. I wonder if this was how brother felt when I was younger. I don’t know.
Today is significant because we’re now more than halfway to the zone—“The zone” being the 3000 mile region where they seem to think the equalizer is. They also have no idea how it landed, whether it’s sitting gingerly on the surface or in some crater of its own design, whether or not it’s been covered in a sheet of ice. So for us, getting there isn’t even half the journey.
We’ve got five skiffs hanging around us now, after the people from ships 2 and 5 joined in. With us included, we have everyone from ships 2-6. Quite the party we have going on. That’s a total of, let’s see…29 of us. I wonder about this whole thing, whether it’s a great idea or if it will be the death of us. I guess all I can do is trust Kell’s judgment.
Day 6
Today came and went, and I don’t feel a thing. I just feel empty and drained.
Timothy came down with a fever. It’s pretty bad, and the worst of it is that we don’t really have anything we can do about it. He’s resting in the cargo hold of the skiff, because it was the best shelter from the cold that we could get him. Back home, he would have been fine. They have remedies for this sort of thing at the ship. Here, he just has to bear with it.
It’s…painful, for some reason.
Ship 4, again with their sociality, offered to help with his care. Kell agreed only to let the girl, the one with no voice, to help. “Crews need to be able to take care of themselves,” he argued, but he didn’t want to risk Timothy’s life for stupid pride. She seemed happy to be able to help us. She had a sack of herbs from her home ship, and she seemed to know how to use them. She mixed up some sort of herbal drink or other back at the campfire. I offered to take it to Timothy, but her leader insisted that she be allowed to take it in person. Afterwards, his fever seemed to have gone down a bit, so I guess it worked.
The rest of us are doing fairly well, at the moment. Roman doesn’t seem to be taking the situation as badly as I had expected. It may just be a farce, but I’ve never pegged him as one to get caught up on things. Optimists like him are usually like that. I know a few, and only a few
That leaves one last matter which has been nagging at the back of my mind since day 4. Since the 6th day is coming to a close, I’m a little worried that we’ve seen neither head nor tail of the snakes. What are they waiting for? I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t stop.
Day 7
We had our first deaths today. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say last night, but it hardly makes a difference. Dead is dead, and I take no joy in knowing how easily it could have been me. It was ship 2, but no one even noticed until they failed to start up their engines with everyone else. We didn’t turn back to look, just to be sure. None of us had the heart. If they fell ill, then we abandoned them. If the snakes killed them in their sleep, then we’re not responsible. It’s selfish of me, to wish one death on them over another for the sake of guilt.
There were six of them. There are only four of us.
The social tapestry that ship 4’s leader wove hasn’t been unraveled, but it has been strained and ripped. Ship 6 is being more cautious, and the leader of ship 5 said he regretted that he had decided to split off and find another route. Maybe we should be too. Kell doesn’t think so…yet, at least.
Tonight at dinner, the girl from ship 4 seemed down. It goes without saying, of course, but it felt wrong for some reason. Up ‘til now, she seemed such a warm person, even without a voice. The shift is dramatic.
Timothy hasn’t recovered yet. So none of us told him the news. Whenever we went down to the cargo room to check on him, we smiled and told him everything was fine. We lied to him, all of us, over and over. But I think he could tell, and that’s why it hurts. How do I know…hmm. We’re weak. It’d take a complete idiot to be oblivious to the feelings of sadness we were trying to mask, and Timothy, however innocent he may be, is by no means stupid. He just smiled all the while.
Day 8
We were going to reach the zone today, but we’ve slowed down our pace after recent…events. Those of us left, the crews of ship 3 and 4, are generally feeling better. Somehow. Ship 6 turned away yesterday evening, after mooching off of the group for one last dinner. They didn’t say goodbye to us. They never were very close in the first place. Good riddance. I hope they all freeze to death.
I finally asked their names. The leader of ship 4, after giving me a look of bewilderment, introduced himself as Wynn. I would have been surprised too, had I been him. It’s unlike me to ask such a thing, and he seems the sort who understands people. He seems contemplative, calculating, a born leader—he’s like Kell on the surface, but buried beneath the exterior lies a vastly different man. There’s another one, a man of few words who keeps watch every night for at least two of four shifts. They call him Sentinel, those imaginative people. He’s deadly serious, and he keeps his bow strung at all times. “It’s memory steel,” he says, or something like that. It retains shape, so he doesn’t have to worry about it losing tension. I would love to have one of those. Sean is the one who cooks every night, because there’s no one better than him for the job. That’s not really saying much when all your ingredients are long lasting and nothing else, a hodgepodge of sealed, mostly premade packages. He’s energetic like Roman. That doesn’t mean they’ve hit it off, or that Sean has hit it off with any of us, really. Sean seems to turn all his energy to either cooking or being vocally miserable and unhappy. He complains about the cold, the rationing that he’s forced to work with…lately, he’s complaining about ship 6, even though it’s fewer mouths to feed. I wonder if he has fun complaining. Edmund is their navigator, and he makes himself scarce. Since they’ve been following us, he probably hasn’t had to do anything in a long time. He usually seems distant and empty…like me.
Then, there’s Naomi. Funny story about that, apparently no one on her ship knew her name either. Her mother simply came with her when she was sent off, said something to the effect of “this girl doesn’t talk, but don’t let her be a burden,” and walked away. How does she manage to be so cheerful? Anyhow, she disappeared from view all of yesterday. This morning, before we broke camp, she happened out of her tent with renewed purpose, and told us her name.
So it turns out that she can talk, she’s just really shy.
If Kell’s judgment is correct, we’ll reach the zone by midmorning tomorrow. We have to search around for about 10 days thereafter—we’re legally exiled from the ships until the 30 days are up. The trip back is only another eight of those. But we’re third of the way through, and that’s something.
Day 9
Today, Timothy was well enough to walk out and about. He was smiling and laughing. Aside from a mild cough, you can hardly even tell that he’s still sick. I’d call it nothing short of a miracle…a miracle, hmm? Yes, I guess that’s still accurate. It’s a miracle that we met with the crew from ship 4. A miracle that Naomi was here to care for Timothy.
It wasn’t without tension. This morning, I awoke to the sound of a heated shouting match. I left my tent, and saw Kell and Wynn arguing with each other. Naomi was sobbing, slumped to the ground with her back to a box of supplies. Timothy looked on in distress, stuttering in an attempt to calm things down but unable to speak a complete word, let alone an entire sentence. None of us could understand what they were shouting about, but that was hardly important. Watching two people you respect tearing each other apart is hard on anyone.
I wasn’t sure how to stop them. I didn’t have to: Roman stepped up to the challenge. How? He walked right up punched each of them in the face. “Argue when we’re home,” he said. I didn’t know he was that sort of man.
They agreed to never speak of it again. I don’t think they’ll ever speak to each other again, either. What could have happened to create such a rift between these two men? I respect them both, and to see them do something like this…I’ll recover, but it still hurts.
Despite the irreparable disagreement between us, Kell says we ought to stick together. I get the feeling that he’s doing it for us. Like, he thinks it’s good for our safety and our overall mental and emotional health. That’s the feeling I get from him, anyhow.
We haven’t seen any snakes yet. Rather than put me at ease, that only worries me more. They’re an inescapable fact of life, the reason we’re forced to live in the colony ships—that’s what we were taught. But rather than that, the planet just seems…empty. Where are those things? It’s like they’re toying with us or something. You grow up assuming that they’re vicious monsters. But throw intelligence in there, and you have a whole ‘nother threat. Now they’re not only able to rip you in half or tunnel underground. No, now they know how to hide, to wait for you to slip up, to relax.
Unless they really don’t live along the route to the zone. Each year the skiffs journey out a different direction from the landing zone. But I refuse to believe it. Because it’s not the snakes that killed the crew of skiff 2…what did?
Day 11
I’m not sure why I’m still writing. I haven’t liked it since the trip began. Picking up the pen is like exposing myself, and I don’t like that feeling. Yet I can’t seem to stop, and the words flow so freely. And now, this may well be the only thing that’s keeping me sane and functional.
Timothy died. Naomi certainly had our hopes up. Did she have hers up as well? Or was she really just giving him some sort of relief, knowing all the while that he was doomed?
That’s not fair of me. When…when it happened, I blamed her, I shouted…she cried. She disappeared into her own tent for the remainder of the day. She hasn’t come out since. We broke camp nice and early, and Edmund walked her to their ship, so slowly that it was as if she were injured. Sentinel was quiet throughout the morning, but never stopped glaring at me with utter hatred. Roman did the same. I haven’t spoken with anyone since. Kell hates Wynn and everyone hates me, so it seems likely that we’ll stop traveling together.
What would my brother have done? I don’t really know, but I get the feeling he would have done better than me. No, I guess that’s not saying much. I think he might have been able to resolve the dispute between Wynn and Kell, if he had been here. He certainly wouldn’t have crushed one of the two most gentle-natured people on the team for the death of the other.
I considered running off in the middle of the night, finding a ditch, and laying down. That’d certainly be a fitting death for a coldhearted person like me. But in the end, I couldn’t resolve to do even that. I’m a despicable person, and I hope I get killed in my sleep by a snake. But fat chance of that, on this ice planet where only the good get to die.
Day 13
Kell and Wynn have both calmed down, although the rest of us still have no idea what went wrong. Again, they have refused to talk about it, Kell especially. But we haven’t split up, and I’m glad. I think this working together thing has had a positive impact, if we can all just get past this time of hardship.
I’ve come to my senses myself since. I think that between grief and exhaustion, something was wrong with me. I tried to apologize to Naomi. Pitiful, isn’t it? I couldn’t even get out the word “sorry.” Almost like part of me doesn’t want to move past this. It’s a simple thing to do, really. Almost insultingly simple. Well, everyone else has eased up a little on me, knowing that I want to acknowledge my guilt. But still, this is important, that I get it out there so that Naomi can move on without feeling sorrowful.
Something happened today that affected our mission. We were just going to spend the days traveling in a ring around the zone, keeping close watch on the horizon. It seemed the best course of action. But around midday, we came across ship 6, and they had some interesting information to share. They’ve seen an unusual reflection of something on the horizon, roughly a day’s travel from where we are now.
As for the reason for which they came to us…well, that’s what worries me. At this time, the crew of ship 6 is down to a trio of survivors. One of them wandered off for a patrol, and was later found in a pool of their own frozen blood. The snakes, of course. Their leader snapped around that time, and grew more and more paranoid. That man killed two of his own crew before they mutinied and killed him in turn. I’m forced to realize that earlier in this very journal, I offhandedly wished for their death. It’s obviously not my fault, but I still feel guilt and regret for having written those words.
The current leader of ship 6 is a woman named Fara. She seems very worried about the survival of her crewmates, which is understandable. Apparently, she feels that, with only three of them left, it would be best to join in with a crew that was better equipped. I get the feeling that leaving the group was their old leader’s decision, not one which was made as a group. They have a scout amongst them, Ricky. He’s the polar opposite of Sentinel, talking quickly and far too much, though thankfully only in short bursts of conversation. Lastly, there’s Philip. He’s the sort of fellow who’s just there, who doesn’t stick out in anyway. I guess that’s something in and of itself which stands out. There’s hardly a person amongst the rest of us who can say that we don’t stand out in some way or other.
The end seems to be in sight, whether this is the probe or not. But I hope it is, because then maybe we can bring meaning to all those deaths from before.
Day 14
It’s here. The equalizer probe—we’ve found it. I can hardly believe it, and I’m not alone in that sentiment. Finding it was something of a miracle, I’d bet. It was encased in ice, which I suppose was to be expected. In fact, if not for a reflection which Ricky apparently spotted—he’s since been confirmed as the one who first saw it—we’d have looked right past it. It’s no different from any other hill. So what made it stand out? Well, as it turns out, the ice around the door was scraped away. The steel reflects much differently from the ice planet’s usual, bland landscape. It’s beautiful, really. If there is a god, he wanted us to find this ship.
It only seemed fitting to celebrate with every bit of supplies we had to spare aside from those we’ll need for the home journey. I never knew that we could make food taste so good with our limited supplies, but I guess that Sean had to be useful eventually. He’d slipped from my mind as soon as I learned to ignore his constant griping, but now I’m forced to thank him. He didn’t complain tonight, in any case.
There was no lack of brooding in our camp, of course. They just kept it to themselves and retreated from the celebration before us. Three people—Kell, Naomi, and Sentinel all for different reasons.
Kell refused to talk about his problems. I guess it’s only natural for a leader to want to keep his worries and weaknesses to himself and put on a strong front, but Kell has become increasingly distant and as a result has seemed less and less of a leader. Like he’s hiding something and it’s getting harder and harder for him to hide, so he tries to stay away to make it easier. I pressed for details but eventually gave up. There was no helping him.
Naomi…felt that she was responsible for Timothy’s death. She felt that because he had been in her care and she failed, it was her fault. This was a struggle that she’d had bottled up all this time. It’s ironic, I guess, that I think it’s my fault she feels that way. She’s the sort of person who would probably have felt guilty anyway. I told her it was alright, that she had done the best she could, and that if not for her Timothy would have suffered more and died sooner. That was all that I said, but the sadness she had bottled up inside rushed out. She cried herself to sleep, and I stayed there in silence with her. It seemed the best thing to do.
Sentinel actually stopped me when I left her tent. I had no idea what it was he wanted, but he had seemed rather pensive throughout the day. He appeared genuinely worried about something, his brow furrowed and grey eyes cast upon the frozen ground. I’ve never seen Sentinel display a shred of emotion before—he was as cold as the ice planet itself, or so it seemed. To see him breaking away from that now…But it was what he said after that truly stuck with me. “Why, if it’s exposed like this, has it never been found before? Or, can we really be sure that’s all there is? ” My first question was something about why he was talking to me and not Wynn. He blinked at me, and shrugged. “I told him already. But maybe I was thinking aloud to myself and you were handy to listen. Or maybe, just maybe, I finally trust you.” That was the end of the conversation. Something about what he said worries me, but I hope it’s nothing.
This may be my last journal entry if all goes well...but I’d rather not think about what happens if it doesn’t.
Ian shut his leather bound journal with a thump that he doubted anyone else heard. Aged metal surrounded him, along with darkness and silence. The inside of the equalizer was warm enough to rust, decay, and fall apart—at least, under enough stress. It was how he had found himself in this predicament in the first place.
It wasn’t looking good. He wasn’t sure how long he had been down there, but there wasn’t any way for him to climb out. And as large as the ship was, the odds that anyone would find him were slim.
“I guess this is it for us, eh Sean?”
Though no more than a few meters away, the cook didn’t respond. This was unsurprising. Ian didn’t have to see through the dark to know the reason.
Entering the ship had been incredible in itself. Ian could only marvel at the technology people must have once had back on earth Though untouched for eight years on the ice planet, the lights that ran throughout the ship had remained on. A society capable of creating an eight year power supply seemed like it would have everything. What could have gone wrong?
They’d split into groups, but theirs had been the only group to take this route. They hadn’t been supposed to go this way, anyway. Kell had decided that they were going to take a detour. Sean, ever the complainer, had asked, “Why? Just stick to the plan, dammit!”
“A gut feeling,” Kell had said.
In that moment, Ian had had such a feeling. He had felt a danger far more ominous and real than the Snakes. But he didn’t know what it was, so he ignored it. That wasn’t the whole story, he realized. He had chosen not to know, chosen to ignore it. Because had he truly looked into his heart, he would have known what was to come. But it was his heart that couldn’t accept that answer. So he had decided it was impossible.
They were a good three minutes off course when Kell stabbed Sean in the heart.
It happened suddenly, so suddenly that Ian’s mind couldn’t comprehend it. “What…what have you done?”
Kell froze, but only for an instant. “Ah, Ian…It’s not….It’s not as simple as you think. And it’s not too late for you. Well? Do you want to live? What are you prepared to do?” These were the words of a man thoroughly unhinged. Ian did not recognize the small object that Kell removed from his pocket, but there was a flash of blinding light and a sound louder than anything he had ever heard before Sparks shot up from the floor, and instincts within him told him that he either had to run or die. So he tore off down the corridor as fast as his legs would take him, all while Kell shouted, “I’ll kill you! I will! STOP!”
Then it was as if the world gave way, and everything went black.
When Ian came to, that was the reality he was faced with. The tunnel had collapsed, he couldn’t get out, and Kell had something that gave him the edge over every other person in the group. “Might as well accept it. I’m a failure who can’t even save the people I…the people I love.” An emotion he hadn’t realized he had. He hadn’t actually been aware that he had emotions at all, until then. “This journey of mine. Has it really been the curse I thought it was? Or perhaps…no. Everything that made me live inside is about to die. Despair is all I have left either way”
“Are you prepared to let them die with you?” Ian didn’t recognize the voice Rather, it didn’t seem quite human. But somehow, it was familiar to him.
“What do you mean? There’s nothing I can do…is there? Wait, who are you?”
“What if it’s not too late?”
“Who…what are you?”
“I have watched you, and you give my kind hope. It is one we would see fulfilled.”
“I asked who you are!” Ian hated this. It seemed that he was losing his own mind, just like Kell. The only difference was that he could tell.
“This is important, so answer quickly. Are you prepared to do whatever it takes to save their lives? The lives of those you care about?”
“What does it…yes. If I could.”
“That is all I needed to know.” The voice came from above but Ian couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to someone he recognized, Something thumped along the walls before smacking Ian in the face. A coil of rope had unfurled from above.
He found a bow and a quiver resting on the floor as he reached the top. It somehow seemed familiar, but he wasn’t sure how. Where it came from was somehow the least of his concerns, like the rope that had brought him out of that pit. He took the weapon in hand and strapped the quiver to his right thigh. He was feeling truly motivated for the first time in his life, and it was his chance to make a difference.
He didn’t actually have a clue where he was supposed to go, so he decided to run and let his feet decide where to take him. At the same time, he didn’t feel a single bit of uncertainty. It was if an invisible hand was guiding him, belonging to someone he just knew he could trust. If he was wrong…no, he could only afford to be right, and so he would be. That was what he decided.
He came to a ladder, and he heard voices above him. Slowly and cautiously, he began to climb. He emerged by a set of stairs leading up a raised platform. He stayed low, but could now make out voices.
“What’s…what’s going on? Wynn, what are you talking about?” Naomi’s voice radiated fear, even though she spoke slowly and clearly. She sounded like she was confused, but she could tell that something was wrong.
“Tell her, Kell.”
“I don’t have to. They don’t know, but you can tell who’s in charge here, right?”
“Tell them! Tell them how you killed Timothy!”
Roman was there, too. “Leader? What-”
“SHUT UP!” The same noise from earlier echoed across the chamber. Roman shouted in pain, and Naomi shrieked in panic.
“They told me, Wynn!” They told me that it was them or me! What was I supposed to do?”
“Why…why did you have to buy into it?”
“What about you? You’re here, aren’t you? You said you were a survivor. How did you make it through?”
Ian peeked from the stairs. “Do you really want me to say it?”
“TELL ME!”
“Because I made the same mistake as you!”
Kell began laughing. “See? We’re the same. The same!”
“We’re not.”
“How can you claim to be different?”
“Because I initiated the equalizer’s self-destruct sequence.”
Another bang, and Ian watched in horror as Wynn slammed against the control console with a spattering of red.
With his last breath, Wynn uttered the last two words he would ever utter. “Naomi…run…”
She sat in place, frozen with. “Why…why are you doing this?”
Kell’s attention was elsewhere. “I almost…had it…But Wynn,” and his face turned red with anger, “he went and initiated meltdown, dammit! He’s ruined everything!”
Ian stepped onto the platform, making eye contact with Roman. Naomi’s attention was fixed on Kell, and Kell’s was fixed on the control panel. Ian was immediately aware that the complexity of the controls was over his head, but he could tell that the red flashing button was not good.
Drawing an arrow, he growled, “Kell. You have fifteen seconds to explain why I’m not going to kill you.”
Kell whirled around and looked him up and down, before replying, “I should have known there was no grave deep enough for you. You want me to tell you why?”
“Not really.”
Kell laughed once again, before shouting, “Then shoot!”
Ian did. The arrow slammed into his former leader’s chest, and the man coughed up blood as he slumped to the floor. All malice was gone, and regret was all that remained. Kell spoke, “when I was selected for this expedition, they took me aside in secret. Told me…that there was a place…a paradise. I would only be let in if I killed everyone.”
“That’s…”
“I didn’t want to do it. But I had no choice. But now you’re alive…and I’m dying. You want to…live on? Hurry out. It’s too late…too…to activate it. Wynn set…self...this whole thing is…about to go up…in flames…with you in it…”
“What…but why…why did we even come here?”
Kell did not respond further. His eyes were clouded over as he stared away at some imaginary point in the distance.
“No. That can’t be it. We can’t let this journey, everyone’s sacrifices go to waste! There has to be some way to stop this thing!”
Roman disagreed. “Ian? It’s too late. It’s not worth it!”
“Naomi, Roman, get out of here. I’m going to see if I can do anything.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing! Don’t stay behind, or you’ll just add your own death to everyone else’s!”
“This journey gave me a purpose, and I will see it fulfilled! What’s the point, otherwise?”
“What’ the point if you’re dead? You want to leave us with this memory?” It took Ian a moment to realize that those words were Naomi’s. She’d never spoken with that sort of urgency or drive before. “Roman injured his left leg. You have to help, or I don’t know if we’ll get out!”
“You have to try!”
“IAN!”
What value will Timothy’s life have had if everyone he cared about dies?
Naomi struggled against Roman’s weight, but it was no use. Roman had never been a small man by any stretch of the imagination. Suddenly, her burden was lighter, and she turned to see Ian offering his strength: he’d come to his senses. Thank the heavens above, he’d come to his senses. She cried and smiled, and Roman surged forth with all his energy on his one good leg.
They made it out and collapsed laughing outside to the bewildered looks of Fara, Ricky, and Sentinel. Their newly reunited companions carried them onto one of the skiffs. They rode off into the distance. Ian watched as the equalizer disappeared on the horizon as an orange glow, and his heart sunk. Everyone else watched with silence. Fara broke it, saying, “Sentinel. I believe you said you were going to explain something. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. Where do you want me to begin? I guess with what Wynn told me, back at the start.” He breathed deeply and cleared his throat before he began, “What they told you all when you were selected was that the equalizer was your only hope of bringing life to this planet. Correct?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“What they told Wynn was that society couldn’t stand population growth, and so…regretfully…sacrifices had to be made.” Sentinel spat out the word “sacrifice.”
Roman shook his head “You mean…”
“I mean that they were tasked with killing their crews. I suspect that the men and women selected as leaders are chosen specifically due to mental instabilities. They were chosen because they were more likely to lose it. Wynn told me…that he had survived an expedition before.”
The implications hung in the air for a moment.
“ The second half of the story awaits. This planet, the ice planet, was not always so.”
“What’s that supposed-”
Sentinel would not be interrupted. “There was a race that lived on its lush, green surface. They were not man, but they had emotions and intelligence. But ten years ago, you arrived. And you came from a planet destroyed by your own hands. Your leaders were determined to prevent the same demise. You know what conclusion they came to?”
“The only way to preserve the human race was to keep it in its infancy. But this planet was too kind for that. There was too much life on it. The solution was simple: freeze the life right off of it. And to do that, they only needed one ship.”
“The planet’s people died in the ensuing flash freeze. But there were survivors, nonetheless. And what this people had was that yours did not was a lack of form They could reshape themselves. And in their sorrow and anguish, the survivors took on the form of monstrosities and set their sights on revenge.”
“The snakes…”
“But soon after, they realized that the people who lived on the ships were no less human. And so, we were sent to observe, to gather what really happened. And we realized that it was all the machinations of your leaders.”
“Sentinel?”
“But that ship was all that held their plan in place. Now that it is destroyed, this planet can return to its true state.”
Ian could hardly believe what he had just heard “You mean…”
Sentinel put his finger to his lips and smiled. “You did not all survive to listen to an old man’s tales of this planet’s past. You survived for each other’s company. isn’t that right?”
Roman understood. They’d been through much, but there was a brighter future ahead than they’d thought. “Break out the stores! We’re going to celebrate with all we’ve got!”
That night, as Ian rolled in his bed, but a lump in his side kept him from getting comfortable. It took him a moment before he realized his journal was buried in his parka. He removed it and was about to toss it aside, but he then changed his mind. He had something to do before he went to bed. And so, pen in hand, he began to write.
A New Day
Well, it happened. I got picked in the lottery this time around. There are only 200 of us on the ship, so I guess the odds aren’t anything special. This journal is a sending-away present from my brother, Kane.
I’m new to this, so perhaps I ought to start with me. I’m Ian: 14 years old, but that’s 20 years by the old time standard. I’ve lived for a long, long time on this ice planet. That’s all anyone ever calls it, as it’s not worth the time or effort to name the damned thing.
No one really remembers anything about when we first came to this planet. Memories of the frontier ships, carrying full loads of hopeful people who just wanted a home to replace the one that man had ruined—memories of the equalizer probe, which was blown off course by god knows what and crashed into god knows where on the other side of the planet--memories of the first expedition to find that crashed ship which was (and is) our only hope of turning this frozen waste in to a planet which is truly habitable—we don’t remember any of that. But I will never be able to forget the third day after we made landfall.
Perhaps they stayed at bay because the sound of our ships landing scared them off. But they must have changed their minds afterwards, because those…things…they came right as the sun began to set. Because of the planet’s slow rotation, most people had forgotten that night was coming once it finally did. We were too focused on setting up homes to fend against the cold. Oh, and of course there were those who were happy to sit on their butts and watch others do the work. But that night, as the sun set and the sky was lit up by magnetic streaks of light, one of this god-forsaken planet’s horrors descended upon our camp. The other ships also came under attack, but I understand ours had the worst of it. We were attacked by creatures with segmented bodies and two limbs, creatures which could burrow underground like worms before surfacing and ripping their prey to shreds. We call them snakes, because it’s not like the name’s taken by anything else currently living. No one had the imagination to come up with a new name.
Now we send teams of people every two years, selected randomly by a lottery. Each of the ten colony ships sends a skiff across the ice with anywhere from four to eight people They have a heavily fortified mine set up more or less in the center, so the material costs can be covered without salvaging from the ships. Replaceable, not recoverable…just like people. They say the goal is to find the equalizer, but brother thinks that it’s actually just population control. Guess it’s my turn to serve our home ship, go out there and die.
My brother suggested that I keep this journal during the trip. “It will help you keep track of what’s going on, preserve history for future generations after we turn on the equalizer apparatus and make this planet a home we can be proud of.” I’m not sure whether he was being sarcastic or not. Well, it won’t help me fight off a snake, but maybe it’ll help me fight off boredom.
Day 2
Woke up bright and early. Also woke up tired, but it’s the same for all of us. I guess I can’t blame this journal, since I’m no worse off. But for something that’s supposed to help me feel calm and composed, it sure could be doing a better job. Or maybe this is calm and composed for me, and I just can’t tell the difference. I feel angry at something, but at the same time I don’t really feel anything at all. Maybe that’s the problem: I don’t know how to “feel” very well in the first place.
I don’t suppose I mentioned the team yet. Kell is the leader, and he’s a few years older than me. He knows what he’s doing, he doesn’t waste time and energy being either nice or angry. He’s focused on leading and putting on an air of authority. It’s important that authority not be contested, of course, so I don’t blame him for making a point of showing that he is better equipped to lead.
Timothy is the youngest, younger even than me. He’s very soft spoken, innocent, and good-natured. He seems to be in shock at being chosen, and hasn’t said more than a few words since we set off yesterday morning. I’m not sure how he got selected, because normally 15—no, I’ve had a hard time not using the earth years I was taught on the ship, but he’s only 10 years old here—isn’t old enough for him to be automatically entered in the lottery. That’s not supposed to happen until he turns 12. I wonder if his family enrolled him behind his back.
Then there’s Roman. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me, but we tolerate each other at least. We’re roughly the same age, but he seems to insist that he knows better than me and that I should learn from his example. That example is optimism, because it seems realism is too realistic for his liking. I disagree, but neither of us can seem to win. I don’t want to win, anyway: I want to be left alone. I’m resigned to my fate, he doesn’t believe it exists. We’ve agreed to disagree, at least for the moment.
Apparently, the group from ship 4 isn’t content to watch from afar. Their leader approached us later in the day and offered their companionship over dinner. I can’t technically say they didn’t ask us, since they did. But what was Kell supposed to tell them? They shared their own food with us, though, so it wasn’t all bad. Roman was certainly happy, and he struck up a conversation with both their leader and the girl that came along as an ambassador of sorts. She was quiet, but she smiled and nodded a lot. Her leader explained that she had been unable to speak ever since the day of reckoning, when the snakes first attacked.
Day 3
Kell was up early today to get the ship moving, which meant that the rest of us got the luxury of proper sleep. A good man, he is. I don’t know if I have the motivation to be like him, but I can certainly imagine that if I could learn to view the world through his eyes I’d be a lot better off. He’s not painfully happy and excitable like Roman, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the high-risk of death.
The ship 4 has actually begun travelling close enough that we can talk with each other throughout the day so long as we shout over the engines. I kept quiet as much as possible, but Roman just had a field day. And it’s spreading, this extroversion. Ship 6 joined in as we made camp for the night, and that makes for 16 of us resting around this bonfire. Picture that: between our three ships, the daily allotment of camping oil was enough for a bonfire.
Before we left, we were taught that sticking to small groups was safer because the snakes don’t travel in large groups and they can only effectively attack one area at a time. But this means we can rotate four people at once, as opposed to the one we’d have on our own. I wonder…nah.
Day 4
It’s been cloudy all day, and breezy wouldn’t begin to describe the gusts that have made steering the skiff a near-impossibility. Kell keeps at it, and he seems to know what he’s doing, but I know I sure couldn’t keep track of what direction we were facing. The ice planet sometimes has spells of weather like this, and it’ll probably last through tomorrow. I’m not sure how the clouds ever form when it’s an icicle here year-round. Maybe it’s not water that’s making the clouds at all. Who knows? It’s not like anyone has the time or means to send a probe up there to find out. And it wouldn’t make a difference, I’ll bet.
I don’t know why, but I like Timothy a lot more than Roman. Since he’s come to terms with his situation, he’s revealed himself to be just as optimistic. Maybe it’s because he’s so soft-spoken. Maybe it’s just because he feels like the younger brother I never had. I wonder if this was how brother felt when I was younger. I don’t know.
Today is significant because we’re now more than halfway to the zone—“The zone” being the 3000 mile region where they seem to think the equalizer is. They also have no idea how it landed, whether it’s sitting gingerly on the surface or in some crater of its own design, whether or not it’s been covered in a sheet of ice. So for us, getting there isn’t even half the journey.
We’ve got five skiffs hanging around us now, after the people from ships 2 and 5 joined in. With us included, we have everyone from ships 2-6. Quite the party we have going on. That’s a total of, let’s see…29 of us. I wonder about this whole thing, whether it’s a great idea or if it will be the death of us. I guess all I can do is trust Kell’s judgment.
Day 6
Today came and went, and I don’t feel a thing. I just feel empty and drained.
Timothy came down with a fever. It’s pretty bad, and the worst of it is that we don’t really have anything we can do about it. He’s resting in the cargo hold of the skiff, because it was the best shelter from the cold that we could get him. Back home, he would have been fine. They have remedies for this sort of thing at the ship. Here, he just has to bear with it.
It’s…painful, for some reason.
Ship 4, again with their sociality, offered to help with his care. Kell agreed only to let the girl, the one with no voice, to help. “Crews need to be able to take care of themselves,” he argued, but he didn’t want to risk Timothy’s life for stupid pride. She seemed happy to be able to help us. She had a sack of herbs from her home ship, and she seemed to know how to use them. She mixed up some sort of herbal drink or other back at the campfire. I offered to take it to Timothy, but her leader insisted that she be allowed to take it in person. Afterwards, his fever seemed to have gone down a bit, so I guess it worked.
The rest of us are doing fairly well, at the moment. Roman doesn’t seem to be taking the situation as badly as I had expected. It may just be a farce, but I’ve never pegged him as one to get caught up on things. Optimists like him are usually like that. I know a few, and only a few
That leaves one last matter which has been nagging at the back of my mind since day 4. Since the 6th day is coming to a close, I’m a little worried that we’ve seen neither head nor tail of the snakes. What are they waiting for? I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t stop.
Day 7
We had our first deaths today. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say last night, but it hardly makes a difference. Dead is dead, and I take no joy in knowing how easily it could have been me. It was ship 2, but no one even noticed until they failed to start up their engines with everyone else. We didn’t turn back to look, just to be sure. None of us had the heart. If they fell ill, then we abandoned them. If the snakes killed them in their sleep, then we’re not responsible. It’s selfish of me, to wish one death on them over another for the sake of guilt.
There were six of them. There are only four of us.
The social tapestry that ship 4’s leader wove hasn’t been unraveled, but it has been strained and ripped. Ship 6 is being more cautious, and the leader of ship 5 said he regretted that he had decided to split off and find another route. Maybe we should be too. Kell doesn’t think so…yet, at least.
Tonight at dinner, the girl from ship 4 seemed down. It goes without saying, of course, but it felt wrong for some reason. Up ‘til now, she seemed such a warm person, even without a voice. The shift is dramatic.
Timothy hasn’t recovered yet. So none of us told him the news. Whenever we went down to the cargo room to check on him, we smiled and told him everything was fine. We lied to him, all of us, over and over. But I think he could tell, and that’s why it hurts. How do I know…hmm. We’re weak. It’d take a complete idiot to be oblivious to the feelings of sadness we were trying to mask, and Timothy, however innocent he may be, is by no means stupid. He just smiled all the while.
Day 8
We were going to reach the zone today, but we’ve slowed down our pace after recent…events. Those of us left, the crews of ship 3 and 4, are generally feeling better. Somehow. Ship 6 turned away yesterday evening, after mooching off of the group for one last dinner. They didn’t say goodbye to us. They never were very close in the first place. Good riddance. I hope they all freeze to death.
I finally asked their names. The leader of ship 4, after giving me a look of bewilderment, introduced himself as Wynn. I would have been surprised too, had I been him. It’s unlike me to ask such a thing, and he seems the sort who understands people. He seems contemplative, calculating, a born leader—he’s like Kell on the surface, but buried beneath the exterior lies a vastly different man. There’s another one, a man of few words who keeps watch every night for at least two of four shifts. They call him Sentinel, those imaginative people. He’s deadly serious, and he keeps his bow strung at all times. “It’s memory steel,” he says, or something like that. It retains shape, so he doesn’t have to worry about it losing tension. I would love to have one of those. Sean is the one who cooks every night, because there’s no one better than him for the job. That’s not really saying much when all your ingredients are long lasting and nothing else, a hodgepodge of sealed, mostly premade packages. He’s energetic like Roman. That doesn’t mean they’ve hit it off, or that Sean has hit it off with any of us, really. Sean seems to turn all his energy to either cooking or being vocally miserable and unhappy. He complains about the cold, the rationing that he’s forced to work with…lately, he’s complaining about ship 6, even though it’s fewer mouths to feed. I wonder if he has fun complaining. Edmund is their navigator, and he makes himself scarce. Since they’ve been following us, he probably hasn’t had to do anything in a long time. He usually seems distant and empty…like me.
Then, there’s Naomi. Funny story about that, apparently no one on her ship knew her name either. Her mother simply came with her when she was sent off, said something to the effect of “this girl doesn’t talk, but don’t let her be a burden,” and walked away. How does she manage to be so cheerful? Anyhow, she disappeared from view all of yesterday. This morning, before we broke camp, she happened out of her tent with renewed purpose, and told us her name.
So it turns out that she can talk, she’s just really shy.
If Kell’s judgment is correct, we’ll reach the zone by midmorning tomorrow. We have to search around for about 10 days thereafter—we’re legally exiled from the ships until the 30 days are up. The trip back is only another eight of those. But we’re third of the way through, and that’s something.
Day 9
Today, Timothy was well enough to walk out and about. He was smiling and laughing. Aside from a mild cough, you can hardly even tell that he’s still sick. I’d call it nothing short of a miracle…a miracle, hmm? Yes, I guess that’s still accurate. It’s a miracle that we met with the crew from ship 4. A miracle that Naomi was here to care for Timothy.
It wasn’t without tension. This morning, I awoke to the sound of a heated shouting match. I left my tent, and saw Kell and Wynn arguing with each other. Naomi was sobbing, slumped to the ground with her back to a box of supplies. Timothy looked on in distress, stuttering in an attempt to calm things down but unable to speak a complete word, let alone an entire sentence. None of us could understand what they were shouting about, but that was hardly important. Watching two people you respect tearing each other apart is hard on anyone.
I wasn’t sure how to stop them. I didn’t have to: Roman stepped up to the challenge. How? He walked right up punched each of them in the face. “Argue when we’re home,” he said. I didn’t know he was that sort of man.
They agreed to never speak of it again. I don’t think they’ll ever speak to each other again, either. What could have happened to create such a rift between these two men? I respect them both, and to see them do something like this…I’ll recover, but it still hurts.
Despite the irreparable disagreement between us, Kell says we ought to stick together. I get the feeling that he’s doing it for us. Like, he thinks it’s good for our safety and our overall mental and emotional health. That’s the feeling I get from him, anyhow.
We haven’t seen any snakes yet. Rather than put me at ease, that only worries me more. They’re an inescapable fact of life, the reason we’re forced to live in the colony ships—that’s what we were taught. But rather than that, the planet just seems…empty. Where are those things? It’s like they’re toying with us or something. You grow up assuming that they’re vicious monsters. But throw intelligence in there, and you have a whole ‘nother threat. Now they’re not only able to rip you in half or tunnel underground. No, now they know how to hide, to wait for you to slip up, to relax.
Unless they really don’t live along the route to the zone. Each year the skiffs journey out a different direction from the landing zone. But I refuse to believe it. Because it’s not the snakes that killed the crew of skiff 2…what did?
Day 11
I’m not sure why I’m still writing. I haven’t liked it since the trip began. Picking up the pen is like exposing myself, and I don’t like that feeling. Yet I can’t seem to stop, and the words flow so freely. And now, this may well be the only thing that’s keeping me sane and functional.
Timothy died. Naomi certainly had our hopes up. Did she have hers up as well? Or was she really just giving him some sort of relief, knowing all the while that he was doomed?
That’s not fair of me. When…when it happened, I blamed her, I shouted…she cried. She disappeared into her own tent for the remainder of the day. She hasn’t come out since. We broke camp nice and early, and Edmund walked her to their ship, so slowly that it was as if she were injured. Sentinel was quiet throughout the morning, but never stopped glaring at me with utter hatred. Roman did the same. I haven’t spoken with anyone since. Kell hates Wynn and everyone hates me, so it seems likely that we’ll stop traveling together.
What would my brother have done? I don’t really know, but I get the feeling he would have done better than me. No, I guess that’s not saying much. I think he might have been able to resolve the dispute between Wynn and Kell, if he had been here. He certainly wouldn’t have crushed one of the two most gentle-natured people on the team for the death of the other.
I considered running off in the middle of the night, finding a ditch, and laying down. That’d certainly be a fitting death for a coldhearted person like me. But in the end, I couldn’t resolve to do even that. I’m a despicable person, and I hope I get killed in my sleep by a snake. But fat chance of that, on this ice planet where only the good get to die.
Day 13
Kell and Wynn have both calmed down, although the rest of us still have no idea what went wrong. Again, they have refused to talk about it, Kell especially. But we haven’t split up, and I’m glad. I think this working together thing has had a positive impact, if we can all just get past this time of hardship.
I’ve come to my senses myself since. I think that between grief and exhaustion, something was wrong with me. I tried to apologize to Naomi. Pitiful, isn’t it? I couldn’t even get out the word “sorry.” Almost like part of me doesn’t want to move past this. It’s a simple thing to do, really. Almost insultingly simple. Well, everyone else has eased up a little on me, knowing that I want to acknowledge my guilt. But still, this is important, that I get it out there so that Naomi can move on without feeling sorrowful.
Something happened today that affected our mission. We were just going to spend the days traveling in a ring around the zone, keeping close watch on the horizon. It seemed the best course of action. But around midday, we came across ship 6, and they had some interesting information to share. They’ve seen an unusual reflection of something on the horizon, roughly a day’s travel from where we are now.
As for the reason for which they came to us…well, that’s what worries me. At this time, the crew of ship 6 is down to a trio of survivors. One of them wandered off for a patrol, and was later found in a pool of their own frozen blood. The snakes, of course. Their leader snapped around that time, and grew more and more paranoid. That man killed two of his own crew before they mutinied and killed him in turn. I’m forced to realize that earlier in this very journal, I offhandedly wished for their death. It’s obviously not my fault, but I still feel guilt and regret for having written those words.
The current leader of ship 6 is a woman named Fara. She seems very worried about the survival of her crewmates, which is understandable. Apparently, she feels that, with only three of them left, it would be best to join in with a crew that was better equipped. I get the feeling that leaving the group was their old leader’s decision, not one which was made as a group. They have a scout amongst them, Ricky. He’s the polar opposite of Sentinel, talking quickly and far too much, though thankfully only in short bursts of conversation. Lastly, there’s Philip. He’s the sort of fellow who’s just there, who doesn’t stick out in anyway. I guess that’s something in and of itself which stands out. There’s hardly a person amongst the rest of us who can say that we don’t stand out in some way or other.
The end seems to be in sight, whether this is the probe or not. But I hope it is, because then maybe we can bring meaning to all those deaths from before.
Day 14
It’s here. The equalizer probe—we’ve found it. I can hardly believe it, and I’m not alone in that sentiment. Finding it was something of a miracle, I’d bet. It was encased in ice, which I suppose was to be expected. In fact, if not for a reflection which Ricky apparently spotted—he’s since been confirmed as the one who first saw it—we’d have looked right past it. It’s no different from any other hill. So what made it stand out? Well, as it turns out, the ice around the door was scraped away. The steel reflects much differently from the ice planet’s usual, bland landscape. It’s beautiful, really. If there is a god, he wanted us to find this ship.
It only seemed fitting to celebrate with every bit of supplies we had to spare aside from those we’ll need for the home journey. I never knew that we could make food taste so good with our limited supplies, but I guess that Sean had to be useful eventually. He’d slipped from my mind as soon as I learned to ignore his constant griping, but now I’m forced to thank him. He didn’t complain tonight, in any case.
There was no lack of brooding in our camp, of course. They just kept it to themselves and retreated from the celebration before us. Three people—Kell, Naomi, and Sentinel all for different reasons.
Kell refused to talk about his problems. I guess it’s only natural for a leader to want to keep his worries and weaknesses to himself and put on a strong front, but Kell has become increasingly distant and as a result has seemed less and less of a leader. Like he’s hiding something and it’s getting harder and harder for him to hide, so he tries to stay away to make it easier. I pressed for details but eventually gave up. There was no helping him.
Naomi…felt that she was responsible for Timothy’s death. She felt that because he had been in her care and she failed, it was her fault. This was a struggle that she’d had bottled up all this time. It’s ironic, I guess, that I think it’s my fault she feels that way. She’s the sort of person who would probably have felt guilty anyway. I told her it was alright, that she had done the best she could, and that if not for her Timothy would have suffered more and died sooner. That was all that I said, but the sadness she had bottled up inside rushed out. She cried herself to sleep, and I stayed there in silence with her. It seemed the best thing to do.
Sentinel actually stopped me when I left her tent. I had no idea what it was he wanted, but he had seemed rather pensive throughout the day. He appeared genuinely worried about something, his brow furrowed and grey eyes cast upon the frozen ground. I’ve never seen Sentinel display a shred of emotion before—he was as cold as the ice planet itself, or so it seemed. To see him breaking away from that now…But it was what he said after that truly stuck with me. “Why, if it’s exposed like this, has it never been found before? Or, can we really be sure that’s all there is? ” My first question was something about why he was talking to me and not Wynn. He blinked at me, and shrugged. “I told him already. But maybe I was thinking aloud to myself and you were handy to listen. Or maybe, just maybe, I finally trust you.” That was the end of the conversation. Something about what he said worries me, but I hope it’s nothing.
This may be my last journal entry if all goes well...but I’d rather not think about what happens if it doesn’t.
Ian shut his leather bound journal with a thump that he doubted anyone else heard. Aged metal surrounded him, along with darkness and silence. The inside of the equalizer was warm enough to rust, decay, and fall apart—at least, under enough stress. It was how he had found himself in this predicament in the first place.
It wasn’t looking good. He wasn’t sure how long he had been down there, but there wasn’t any way for him to climb out. And as large as the ship was, the odds that anyone would find him were slim.
“I guess this is it for us, eh Sean?”
Though no more than a few meters away, the cook didn’t respond. This was unsurprising. Ian didn’t have to see through the dark to know the reason.
Entering the ship had been incredible in itself. Ian could only marvel at the technology people must have once had back on earth Though untouched for eight years on the ice planet, the lights that ran throughout the ship had remained on. A society capable of creating an eight year power supply seemed like it would have everything. What could have gone wrong?
They’d split into groups, but theirs had been the only group to take this route. They hadn’t been supposed to go this way, anyway. Kell had decided that they were going to take a detour. Sean, ever the complainer, had asked, “Why? Just stick to the plan, dammit!”
“A gut feeling,” Kell had said.
In that moment, Ian had had such a feeling. He had felt a danger far more ominous and real than the Snakes. But he didn’t know what it was, so he ignored it. That wasn’t the whole story, he realized. He had chosen not to know, chosen to ignore it. Because had he truly looked into his heart, he would have known what was to come. But it was his heart that couldn’t accept that answer. So he had decided it was impossible.
They were a good three minutes off course when Kell stabbed Sean in the heart.
It happened suddenly, so suddenly that Ian’s mind couldn’t comprehend it. “What…what have you done?”
Kell froze, but only for an instant. “Ah, Ian…It’s not….It’s not as simple as you think. And it’s not too late for you. Well? Do you want to live? What are you prepared to do?” These were the words of a man thoroughly unhinged. Ian did not recognize the small object that Kell removed from his pocket, but there was a flash of blinding light and a sound louder than anything he had ever heard before Sparks shot up from the floor, and instincts within him told him that he either had to run or die. So he tore off down the corridor as fast as his legs would take him, all while Kell shouted, “I’ll kill you! I will! STOP!”
Then it was as if the world gave way, and everything went black.
When Ian came to, that was the reality he was faced with. The tunnel had collapsed, he couldn’t get out, and Kell had something that gave him the edge over every other person in the group. “Might as well accept it. I’m a failure who can’t even save the people I…the people I love.” An emotion he hadn’t realized he had. He hadn’t actually been aware that he had emotions at all, until then. “This journey of mine. Has it really been the curse I thought it was? Or perhaps…no. Everything that made me live inside is about to die. Despair is all I have left either way”
“Are you prepared to let them die with you?” Ian didn’t recognize the voice Rather, it didn’t seem quite human. But somehow, it was familiar to him.
“What do you mean? There’s nothing I can do…is there? Wait, who are you?”
“What if it’s not too late?”
“Who…what are you?”
“I have watched you, and you give my kind hope. It is one we would see fulfilled.”
“I asked who you are!” Ian hated this. It seemed that he was losing his own mind, just like Kell. The only difference was that he could tell.
“This is important, so answer quickly. Are you prepared to do whatever it takes to save their lives? The lives of those you care about?”
“What does it…yes. If I could.”
“That is all I needed to know.” The voice came from above but Ian couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to someone he recognized, Something thumped along the walls before smacking Ian in the face. A coil of rope had unfurled from above.
He found a bow and a quiver resting on the floor as he reached the top. It somehow seemed familiar, but he wasn’t sure how. Where it came from was somehow the least of his concerns, like the rope that had brought him out of that pit. He took the weapon in hand and strapped the quiver to his right thigh. He was feeling truly motivated for the first time in his life, and it was his chance to make a difference.
He didn’t actually have a clue where he was supposed to go, so he decided to run and let his feet decide where to take him. At the same time, he didn’t feel a single bit of uncertainty. It was if an invisible hand was guiding him, belonging to someone he just knew he could trust. If he was wrong…no, he could only afford to be right, and so he would be. That was what he decided.
He came to a ladder, and he heard voices above him. Slowly and cautiously, he began to climb. He emerged by a set of stairs leading up a raised platform. He stayed low, but could now make out voices.
“What’s…what’s going on? Wynn, what are you talking about?” Naomi’s voice radiated fear, even though she spoke slowly and clearly. She sounded like she was confused, but she could tell that something was wrong.
“Tell her, Kell.”
“I don’t have to. They don’t know, but you can tell who’s in charge here, right?”
“Tell them! Tell them how you killed Timothy!”
Roman was there, too. “Leader? What-”
“SHUT UP!” The same noise from earlier echoed across the chamber. Roman shouted in pain, and Naomi shrieked in panic.
“They told me, Wynn!” They told me that it was them or me! What was I supposed to do?”
“Why…why did you have to buy into it?”
“What about you? You’re here, aren’t you? You said you were a survivor. How did you make it through?”
Ian peeked from the stairs. “Do you really want me to say it?”
“TELL ME!”
“Because I made the same mistake as you!”
Kell began laughing. “See? We’re the same. The same!”
“We’re not.”
“How can you claim to be different?”
“Because I initiated the equalizer’s self-destruct sequence.”
Another bang, and Ian watched in horror as Wynn slammed against the control console with a spattering of red.
With his last breath, Wynn uttered the last two words he would ever utter. “Naomi…run…”
She sat in place, frozen with. “Why…why are you doing this?”
Kell’s attention was elsewhere. “I almost…had it…But Wynn,” and his face turned red with anger, “he went and initiated meltdown, dammit! He’s ruined everything!”
Ian stepped onto the platform, making eye contact with Roman. Naomi’s attention was fixed on Kell, and Kell’s was fixed on the control panel. Ian was immediately aware that the complexity of the controls was over his head, but he could tell that the red flashing button was not good.
Drawing an arrow, he growled, “Kell. You have fifteen seconds to explain why I’m not going to kill you.”
Kell whirled around and looked him up and down, before replying, “I should have known there was no grave deep enough for you. You want me to tell you why?”
“Not really.”
Kell laughed once again, before shouting, “Then shoot!”
Ian did. The arrow slammed into his former leader’s chest, and the man coughed up blood as he slumped to the floor. All malice was gone, and regret was all that remained. Kell spoke, “when I was selected for this expedition, they took me aside in secret. Told me…that there was a place…a paradise. I would only be let in if I killed everyone.”
“That’s…”
“I didn’t want to do it. But I had no choice. But now you’re alive…and I’m dying. You want to…live on? Hurry out. It’s too late…too…to activate it. Wynn set…self...this whole thing is…about to go up…in flames…with you in it…”
“What…but why…why did we even come here?”
Kell did not respond further. His eyes were clouded over as he stared away at some imaginary point in the distance.
“No. That can’t be it. We can’t let this journey, everyone’s sacrifices go to waste! There has to be some way to stop this thing!”
Roman disagreed. “Ian? It’s too late. It’s not worth it!”
“Naomi, Roman, get out of here. I’m going to see if I can do anything.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing! Don’t stay behind, or you’ll just add your own death to everyone else’s!”
“This journey gave me a purpose, and I will see it fulfilled! What’s the point, otherwise?”
“What’ the point if you’re dead? You want to leave us with this memory?” It took Ian a moment to realize that those words were Naomi’s. She’d never spoken with that sort of urgency or drive before. “Roman injured his left leg. You have to help, or I don’t know if we’ll get out!”
“You have to try!”
“IAN!”
What value will Timothy’s life have had if everyone he cared about dies?
Naomi struggled against Roman’s weight, but it was no use. Roman had never been a small man by any stretch of the imagination. Suddenly, her burden was lighter, and she turned to see Ian offering his strength: he’d come to his senses. Thank the heavens above, he’d come to his senses. She cried and smiled, and Roman surged forth with all his energy on his one good leg.
They made it out and collapsed laughing outside to the bewildered looks of Fara, Ricky, and Sentinel. Their newly reunited companions carried them onto one of the skiffs. They rode off into the distance. Ian watched as the equalizer disappeared on the horizon as an orange glow, and his heart sunk. Everyone else watched with silence. Fara broke it, saying, “Sentinel. I believe you said you were going to explain something. Now’s as good a time as any.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. Where do you want me to begin? I guess with what Wynn told me, back at the start.” He breathed deeply and cleared his throat before he began, “What they told you all when you were selected was that the equalizer was your only hope of bringing life to this planet. Correct?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“What they told Wynn was that society couldn’t stand population growth, and so…regretfully…sacrifices had to be made.” Sentinel spat out the word “sacrifice.”
Roman shook his head “You mean…”
“I mean that they were tasked with killing their crews. I suspect that the men and women selected as leaders are chosen specifically due to mental instabilities. They were chosen because they were more likely to lose it. Wynn told me…that he had survived an expedition before.”
The implications hung in the air for a moment.
“ The second half of the story awaits. This planet, the ice planet, was not always so.”
“What’s that supposed-”
Sentinel would not be interrupted. “There was a race that lived on its lush, green surface. They were not man, but they had emotions and intelligence. But ten years ago, you arrived. And you came from a planet destroyed by your own hands. Your leaders were determined to prevent the same demise. You know what conclusion they came to?”
“The only way to preserve the human race was to keep it in its infancy. But this planet was too kind for that. There was too much life on it. The solution was simple: freeze the life right off of it. And to do that, they only needed one ship.”
“The planet’s people died in the ensuing flash freeze. But there were survivors, nonetheless. And what this people had was that yours did not was a lack of form They could reshape themselves. And in their sorrow and anguish, the survivors took on the form of monstrosities and set their sights on revenge.”
“The snakes…”
“But soon after, they realized that the people who lived on the ships were no less human. And so, we were sent to observe, to gather what really happened. And we realized that it was all the machinations of your leaders.”
“Sentinel?”
“But that ship was all that held their plan in place. Now that it is destroyed, this planet can return to its true state.”
Ian could hardly believe what he had just heard “You mean…”
Sentinel put his finger to his lips and smiled. “You did not all survive to listen to an old man’s tales of this planet’s past. You survived for each other’s company. isn’t that right?”
Roman understood. They’d been through much, but there was a brighter future ahead than they’d thought. “Break out the stores! We’re going to celebrate with all we’ve got!”
That night, as Ian rolled in his bed, but a lump in his side kept him from getting comfortable. It took him a moment before he realized his journal was buried in his parka. He removed it and was about to toss it aside, but he then changed his mind. He had something to do before he went to bed. And so, pen in hand, he began to write.
A New Day
Literature
Once Again: Part Three
The Doctor looked at his old companion. Her blonde hair glowed from the light inside the room and her blue eyes stared at him, concentrating.
"I don't know." he replied back. "I don't know."
Rose sighed and turned her head, looking at the wall. She saw pictures of her and John, happily together, living a life that she didn't want. She heard the Doctor clear his throat.
"Maybe I should tell you what happened...to me?" he said, more of a question than a statement.
Rose blinked, but didn't say anything.
The Doctor sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and began.
"In the proper universe-" he stopped. "The other one, the one you were born i
Literature
i.
Within blue eyes
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter
Literature
november14th.
i never had an actual birthday where i could sit back and reflect on what the world has given me thus far. i've never had the teenager-themed "surprise parties" and the traditional gift-giving, pinata-hitting, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey slash spinthebottle games that dash away reality for the given special day. sunsets and silhouette dreams that smash reality into confetti and funfetti-half ass made birthday cake with the number of ages presented into falling-apart icing. i never understood why society would celebrate a passing year when ultimately the person is getting closer to growing into obligations of responsibilities.
but for mothers
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My submission for the final round of 
's writing tournament. I didn't have as much time to edit it, even though it was the first idea I had. I've had a full month, though, so that's to be expected. Best of luck to everyone else who participated!
's writing tournament. I didn't have as much time to edit it, even though it was the first idea I had. I've had a full month, though, so that's to be expected. Best of luck to everyone else who participated! © 2013 - 2024 GABanks118
Comments4
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As I was reading, I expected the entire piece consists of journal entries.
The story itself is very well written, but when the journal - reading tone broke it just didn't feel the same anymore.
In any case, I like this for Ian's emotional depth, and his perspective is very concisely presented. The way he acts and thinks, the fight between Kell and Wynn, Timothy's death and how Ian faced it; everything adds up to the atmosphere of a great piece.
Good job.
The story itself is very well written, but when the journal - reading tone broke it just didn't feel the same anymore.
In any case, I like this for Ian's emotional depth, and his perspective is very concisely presented. The way he acts and thinks, the fight between Kell and Wynn, Timothy's death and how Ian faced it; everything adds up to the atmosphere of a great piece.
Good job.