First Contact

Chapter 551.5 - 4th & 10

The door opened and Dambree walked in, pulling the grav-skiinig mask off of her face. In the three months since she'd killed the slorpies on the shore of the lake the black rain had stopped, there was no more sounds of fighting, and the night had been peaceful and quiet.

"Was there someone out there?" Tru asked, setting the shotgun down.

Dambree nodded. "Yes. They wanted to talk to me."

"What did they want?" Aunt Fenn asked. Her belly was swollen to the point she spent a lot of time reclining in one of the chairs. Her second child conceived during the war was almost ready to be born.

"They told me it's time," Dambree said. She sat down, still in her 'work clothes', and grabbed a can of Liquid Hate Black Coffee and Bubblegum. It squeaked "you'll regret this" as she opened it. "It's time for all of you to go home."

Aunt Fenn sighed with relief.

"I don't want the baby born here," Dambree said softly, looking at the top of the table. "I'll radio it in and all of you can go home," she picked up the radio off the table and looked at Tru and Elu. "It's time."

Tru nodded. "I know."

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Elu looked up at his sister, the Confederate grav striker behind him humming. "Please?"

Dambree shook her head. "We're all that's left of our family. Somebody's gotta live, not just hide out here, but live. Somebody's gotta make it. Me and Mister Mewmew, we're all used up."

Elu nodded, taking his sister's hand. "I love you."

"I know," Dambree said.

"I'm never going to forget you, not as long as I live," Elu promised.

"I know," Dambree said. "I'll never forget you either. I love you."

Dambree bent down and kissed her brother's forehead. "Take care of Tru and Nee."

"I will," Elu promised. He turned and ran to the striker, where the rest of the family was waiting.

"I know," Dambree whispered.

She stood on the ground, in front of the cabin, and watched the doors to the striker shut. Nee pressed her face against the window, crying, and watched her sister and Mister Mewmew dwindle as the striker rose into the sky.

Dambree didn't go inside, just moved over and sat on the hood of wrecked and ruined car, where she had a rucksack packed. Her brush clearing blade was sheathed on the side of it. Mister Mewmew tried to jump up, slipped, and Dambree grabbed him before he fell, lifting him up and putting him on the hood.

"They'll be here soon," Dambree said softly.

"

"Me too, Mister Mewmew, me too," Dambree said.

Time went by slowly, only the sounds of the lake in the distance, the call of birds, and the buzzing of insects.

Then came a growling snarling roar.

The grav-striker had seen better days. One door was torn off. The armor and windshield were shattered over the copilot's seat. The port graviton engine was smoking and showering sparks, burning inside with hot reddish flames.

"Ready?" Dambree asked.

Mister Mewmew stood up.

Dambree picked him up and the ruck both.

The grav-striker landed with a crunch and an unnatural stillness filled the air.

Dambree walked to the striker. She paused for a moment, looking back.

The cabin sat empty. It looked old, tired almost.

She sighed, and climbed up into the striker.

It lifted off with the howl of damaged grav-drives.

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Specialist Grade-5 Melinvae parked the car and got out. She was in her dress uniform, the dark blue heavy jacket wrapped around her and she put her dress cap on her head, grateful for the gloves.

The day was blustery, snow was on the mountain peaks, and autumn was evident in the gold and reddish leaves of the trees.

Ahead of her was a low stone wall, a single opening bracketed by two stone pillars that were waist high in the middle of the wall.

In the middle stood a large figure in a nun's habit, face hidden by a veil.

Melinvae walked up to the figure and stopped.

"Melinvae," the figure said. The voice was female, but rough, gravelly. Melinvae knew it was the sound of vocal cord trauma.

"How are you?" Melinvae asked.

"Content," the figure said.

"I have mail for you. Your family," Melinvae said, holding out the envelopes.

The figure reached out with a white gloved hand, taking the envelopes.

"Thank you," the figure said.

Melinvae looked at the vast building, flanked by three small buildings on either side. She looked at the tower and saw a figure standing on the widow's walk.

"Your brother and sister are doing well in school. You did good keeping them in distance learning classes," Melinvae said, looking back at the massive figure in front of her.

"I know," the figure said.

"Your baby sister begged me to take her with me," Melinvae tried. "She's getting big. She's in school too."

"I know."

"Are you ever coming back?" Melinvae asked.

There was a long moment of silence. For a moment Melinvae wondered if the figure in front of her would answer the question.

"I... I don't know," the figure said. A red glow started to show behind the veil. "I'm still... I'm still stuck at the lake. I'm still stuck killing," the figure seemed to swell slightly and the eyes seemed to burn brighter even though the dark red color didn't change. "Even now, if you took a single step forward, onto these holy grounds, I would rip your arms off."

Melinvae nodded. "I understand," she turned half away, looking back down the road. "Sometimes, some nights, I'm right back there," she turned back and looked at the figure. "Are you at peace?"

The figure nodded. "Each day, it gets a little better."

"I'm glad," Melinvae said. She reached out carefully and put her hand on the figure's forearm. "Be content and let your soul heal, Dambree."

"You too, Melinvae," the massive Hesstlan said, touching the back of Melinvae's hand with her gloved fingertips.

"I have to get back. It's a long drive and I have formation on Monday," Melinvae said. She looked up. "I reenlisted for another five years."

"I understand," Dambree said. "Take care of yourself, Melinvae. Digital Omnimessiah and the Biological Apostles bless and guard you."

"And you," Melinvae said. She turned around and walked back to the car. She started it, turned around, and drove away.

Melinvae saw that Dambree didn't move until Melinvae couldn't see her any more.

Melinvae sighed and leaned back, letting the autodrive function take over.

There was always more to do.

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Dambree moved through the chapel and sat down on one of the pews. She read each letter slowly, relishing each sentence, each word, each single letter. When she was done, she folded them up and put them in the pocket of her habit.

She went up to the altar and looked up as she sank down to one knee. She bowed her head and silently prayed.

After a few minutes she felt a touch on her shoulder.

"Sister Bree, are you all right?" Mother Superior asked.

"I am content," Dambree answered. "My family is doing well."

"That is all we can ask for in this malevolent universe," Mother Superior said. "And the rage?"

"Quieted for now by the loving words of my family," Dambree said. "Still there, Mother Superior."

"Take the time for prayers, then help your sister novitiates do the dishes for tonight's dinner," Mother Superior ordered.

"Yes, Mother Superior," Dambree said.

The Mother Superior moved away, her heels clicking on the stone.

Dambree looked up at the stained glass window.

The fury twisted face of the Initiate stared down at her.

She bowed her head.

A heavy gauntlet gently settled on her shoulder.

"Doki o()o doki?" the youthful voice asked her.

"No. They are doing well, much better than they would caring for me while I struggled with what is inside of me," Dambree said. "I did not just stare into the darkness, sister, I stood within it for too long."

"o ( ()?" the voice asked.

Dambree nodded. "Yes, sister. I know, even at my worst, the Digital Omnimessiah witnessed me, and through him I can find peace yet again."

"( )" the voice said.

"I love you too, sister," Dambree said.

She heard the Dying Joan move away.

And returned to her prayers.

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Tru was naked, standing in plain view as she stared out the window, watching the dark autumn night.

"Sometimes, they come back," she said to herself.