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AUTHOR'S DISCLAIMER: All the Cpt. Power characters belong to the people who created them. This is strictly for entertainment purposes, and no humans, animals or spiders were harmed in the beta-ing of this piece. Thanks to Michele, who helped with this, and got me moving on it again. . . . . . Kylen
It was over. Everything he had worked for was gone, and Jennifer along with it. And it was all his fault. He couldn't escape that one fact, and he really didn't want to. As Jonathan stood at the edge of the vast plain of rubble, his emotions pestered him, numbing his mind and making his emotions raw. In front of him were scattered bits of machinery, broken pieces of equipment, a little bit of everything being randomly scattered by the intermittent wind. There was nothing worth salvaging, nothing to retrieve or save; the destruction of Powerbase had been complete, irrevocable, and final. Somewhere among the destruction, scattered as badly as everything else that had been blown apart, was Jennifer. It had been quick and assuredly not painless, and she was gone. The wind suddenly swept up behind him, scattering a few odd scraps of metal, the sound startling him slightly. There was so little left, it seemed wrong for there to be any noise. And he was alone, just as he wanted it. No distractions, no talk, no fumbling expressions of sympathy. Just himself, and his feelings, and a chance to deal with them. And yet, frustratingly, he wasn't alone. It wasn't much of a sound, just enough to stand out in the utter silence surrounding him. There wasn't anything to see, just the sound of someone's feet or hands moving something, so quickly and furiously coming towards him that, without thinking, Jon moved towards it. Within a minute, he was at the crest of a small hill, more desolation laid out before him. But there was no one there, and no more sound. Just silence and destruction, and a stiffening feeling in his stomach that he had missed something important. "Jon....help me....please...." The voice was behind him, and Jonathan whirled quickly, just in time to see a hand pulled back down behind another pile of rubble, this time about 50 yards away. The feeling in his stomach settled in as pure, unadulterated fear. He knew that voice. Running as fast as he could, he took off towards the rubble, losing his footing first only every few yards, and then every few steps as his frustration and impatience grew. Finally, he tripped just feet short of the top of the crest, landing hard with no warning, every ounce of useable air pushed out of his burning chest. Struggling to draw a breath, he looked out, and knew he had failed. Jennifer was just yards away from him, collapsed over herself, like a rag doll, completely limp and unresponsive. He couldn't even get her name out, but it wouldn't have mattered anyhow. Because, standing above her, his digitizing arm out and ready, was Blastarr. The biodread paused just long enough to catch Power's eyes, and utter a long, satisfying laugh, giving Jon enough time to realize how totally helpless he was. Then, without any further pause, the arm swung up and around, aimed directly at Jennifer. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Jon jolted suddenly awake, coming to an upright position so quickly that his straining muscles first protested, and then cramped. The scream aborted itself, however, and he was left with nothing but silence and darkness surrounding him. His breath ragged and uneven, he groped along the wall with his right hand until he found the portable light he'd put next to the bed. The darkness fled quickly, and he found himself, soaked with sweat, sitting in a bunk in the Passages. He looked down at his chronometer and sighed softly. Three hours this time. He'd only been asleep three hours. It'd been well after midnight before he could even bring himself to approach the corner bunk of the room he shared with Hawk, and another hour before his thoughts had settled enough for him to fall asleep. Evidently, they hadn't settled enough. Every night the same dream, the same situation....the same feelings. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he realized he didn't need the nightmare to experience them. The guilt, the fear, the pain, they were all still there. And she was still gone...still dead. He reached for his fatigues and pulled them on as silently as possible. Hawk was still sound asleep in the other bunk, and Jon wanted him to stay that way. No sense in torturing anyone else with his feelings. They were enough for him to deal with, he thought, as he slipped quickly and quietly out of the room, into the night beyond. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep. The noise stopped for a few seconds, and then began all over again. Somewhere in the deep recesses of sleep, the noise burrowed into Matt Masterson's mind, and irritated him to no end. Groping with his right hand, he found the source of the noise and slapped at it viciously, hoping the force behind the blow would shut up it. The sudden and intense pain shooting up his left arm brought him completely awake, cursing softly at himself with very little amusement as the chronometer on his left wrist kept chirping away. More gently than the first time, he thumbed at the sound control, shutting off the alarm. 8 a.m. was too early to be awake and alert, he thought with a little amusement and little more exhaustion. Yawning, he pulled himself upright, and before he even grabbed for his clothes, he looked across the room at the other bunk. Like he suspected, it was empty. He'd been mostly asleep when he heard it, but he had a vague recollection of Jon going out the door hours earlier. How much earlier, he had no idea, but he intended to find out. Ten minutes later, Hawk was at the door of the Jumpship, keying in his entry code. The door swung open, revealing the disorganized jumble of mess the hold had temporarily become. Supplies, weaponry, repair equipment ... everything was roughly sorted into vague piles, but the sheer amount of material was overwhelming. At the edge of it was Tank's workstation, and seated there was Jon, dozing in the Big Guy's chair. One hand lolled at his side, the other sat next to the keyboard. Even dozing, Matt noticed the tension in his body, and, when he knelt down in front of him, he could see the intensity on his face. "Jon." Even said softly, the words were enough to startle Jon awake, and frighten Hawk. When Jon's eyes focused on him, there was enough showing there to speak volumes. It had been for the last week, and Hawk had absolutely no idea how to deal with it. "Why don't you go get some sleep?" At that moment, it really didn't matter to Hawk how long Jon had been there. He just wanted to help. "You look exhausted." Just for a moment, Hawk saw a 15-year-old kid, wounded by everything the world had thrown at him, hurt and angry and refusing to deal with any of it. Like then, Hawk wanted to reach out, do something to make the pain stop, but couldn't think of anything that would work. There was something there he just couldn't touch. By the time he'd reached that conclusion, though, Jon was up and on his feet, moving towards the door. Matt reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, but Jon shrugged him off. "I think I'll take that suggestion." And then he was out the door, almost colliding with Scout, who jumped back just in time. They both watched Jon stalk away, and all Hawk could do was sigh in frustration. He pulled himself into Tank's chair, and put his head into his hands. "You know, watching him is enough to make me really grateful that I don't dream." Scout's voice, laced with his usual humor and wit, filtered into Hawk's thoughts. He looked up to find him sprawled out in one of the hold's seats. "I have to admit, I don't mind being relieved of night watch, but those bunks don't make it worth the time to sleep. Besides, Tank snores." Hawk snorted softly at the comical grimace on Scout's face. "Yeah, well, portable field housing makes my butt sore, too." He got the expected laugh, but then they both grew serious again. "What time did he come in, Scout?" "About 4 a.m. Same as last night, and the night before, and the night before that." There was silence for a few minutes after that. There wasn't much Hawk could think of to say. Everyone was looking for answers right now, and Hawk, especially, didn't have any. And Jon ... Jon was walking around like he'd just lost everything in the world that meant anything, and Hawk was at a loss on how to change his mind. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. Evidently, the confusion was showing, because Scout finally quit watching him. With a half-shrug, he began rummaging through a pile of wiring and chip replacements, trying to look busy. Hawk caught the look of disappointment, though. "What, Scout?" He stopped and looked at Hawk, for once the smile off his face. "You're his best friend. He listens to you. Can't you do anything?" Hawk mulled that over for a second. "I'm not sure if there's anything I can do. He's sick and tired, and he's hurting ... just like the rest of us." "Yeah, just like the rest of us." Scout seemed to have as much of an answer as he needed. He began picking up the wires he'd sorted out. He picked up a few tools, added a light from the pile in the seat next to him, and proceeded to head up the stairs into the flight area without saying a word. Hawk wanted to stop him, and ask more questions, but he couldn't. With a sigh, he realized he probably wouldn't like the answers anyway The awakening this time had little pain, little emotion. And that was precisely what it was supposed to feel like. As the creature that had once been Lyman Taggart returned to consciousness, there was an awareness that he had lacked before, an understanding. And as the last vestiges of unnatural sleep fell away, he knew, instinctively, that he had become something more, something better. A look at his new form would only confirm it. "Overmind." There was silence for a moment, and then the omnipresent voice of the supercomputer filtered through to him, not through air as sound, but as thoughts, as a presence in his very body. If he had been willing to admit it, he would've felt something akin to pleasure. "You are now one with the machine. You are ... complete." With those words still filtering through his mind, Dread pulled himself into a sitting position, and inspected his body. It gleamed, as perfectly new and pristine as anything he had ever seen. There was not a flaw to be seen, not an imperfection to be found. His dream had been fulfilled. And yet, before he even had time to appreciate his new form, Overmind was intruding. "There have been ... complications." And then, not on the viewscreen in the replication chamber, but directly in his mind, Overmind began showing him images. First, of Power managing to escape his troops. Then, of Blastarr in the base, with the helpless, traitorous Youth Leader Chase in front of him. And then... "Regeneration time is unable to be estimated. Power has won this round. The likelihood that anything will be retrievable is..." "Only going to be established as we inspect the rubble, and see what Blastarr can return with after his regeneration." Overmind, conceding defeat? There were things Dread now knew that he had not before, and he found the concept laughable. He found he didn't need to speak, but he uttered the words anyhow. He could still inspire fear, place the emphasis on his meanings. He had not lost anything. He had merely gained focus. He stood, stretching his new form, and his body, appreciating its power. It was to be used to it's fullest, now. "Dispatch troops, Overmind. Any thing of use is to be returned to me. And I want to know as soon as Blastarr is at full capacity. We must know what he has found." "As you wish, my lord..." TO BE CONTINUED......... |