This short story follows the backstory of Vitus Warthen, a character in the Boards RP The Battles of Some: Plains of Sivas. I highly recommend joining if you like to write.
White designated two things in the Baronies’ Grand Argon Fighting Forces: those in the civilian class, and those so far above the common military ranks that their presence should be seen as the highest honor. But those of high renown were also sporting capes, medals, gold trims, and ivory finishes, and made the civilian class look rather plain in comparison.
Yet a hardsuit was still a hardsuit, as Belos often said, and the importance it carried was not diminished by a lack of polish. Vitus knew the consequences of a hardsuit failure in the vacuum of space; the fogged-over visors of the fallen Blackvine troops had obscured the tortured faces of the souls that bore them, dead within seconds of suffering the slightest tear in their armor, had communicated that fact very effectively.
That memory, however, was quickly cast aside as the airlock opened. Belos gently pushed his son forwards, following behind as the pair softly drifted into the empty blackness, lit by the celestial body that lay below. Vitus’ increased breathing indicated to him that his son was still quite panicky over stepping away from the vessel, and in reply he gently gripped his hand as the two of them stared out into the silence of the stars.
“That’s the last of the Reaper.” Belos pointed, a small square of debris visible on the edge of the horizon. Despite its now miniscule size, Vitus knew the remains of the once great vessel were in actuality quite massive. “Sure was a pretty ship. Admiral Labrenz used to love working aboard that one before his appointment. I wonder if he’ll be appointed further now that the High Baron’s top commanders are all dead.”
Vitus understood his father’s casual and almost flippant attitude towards the dead was one born out of necessity, to escape the horrors of war that he had endured, but still the Warthen child promised to never resort to that kind of behavior. Surely it could not be as cold as he made it seem?
“You and your mother will have to stay on this vessel.” Belos sighed, not turning to look at the shocked expression undoubtedly plastered across Vitus’ young features. “I know, it’s against protocol, but the High Baron’s taken rather poorly to my defection leading to the destruction of Labrenz’ favorite battleship, and they’ve begun to scramble forces. An attempt to get you two safely away could be intercepted by anti-air fire or an orbital barrage.”
A glance revealed that Vitus had not changed his gaze, but stayed staring out across the endless expanse, fully consumed by its depth. There were clear implications in his father’s message, ones that were impossible to ignore. That Argon forces were already deployed in some capacity, that the vessels they were scheduled to intercept were also Argon, and that these Argon vessels could only be headed towards one target.
“Vitus.” His father’s voice carried a calming sense of ease, and yet still commanded his full attention, his body almost automatically turning to face its author. His eyes sparkled behind his visor as he spoke.
“There is nothing I value more in the universe than you.” He gave a slight smile, trying delicately to arrange his words. “But for me to love you I cannot shield you from evil forever. Some day I’m not going to be around, and you, Vitus, will have a family of your own. You must learn to fight, both for yourself and for others. I’ll always protect you, as long as I live, but I cannot pretend that evil does not exist, or that I will somehow be capable of conquering all of it.”
“You’ll have a family one day, son.” He gripped Vitus’ shoulder. “You’re going to be strong. You’ll have to protect them, to be willing to die for them. It’s the highest honor you can receive, more than medals or commemoration can bestow. And it will always be my greatest honor to protect you and your mother, Vitus. Nothing else comes close.”
Vitus’ eyes revealed he had understood the implication. The pair shared a moment of silence as they turned their collective gaze back towards Sivas, the glow of that doomed planet framing their silhouettes against the darkness.
Vitus tried to think back to what happened.
The magnetic boots of the civilian grade hardsuit he wore were not as robust as those of the common soldier, and as such were not prepared to handle the force at which his mother pulled him through the halls. Sumbling forwards, both feet left the ground for an instant too long, and he found himself careening towards the ceiling.
“Mom!” He had cried out, panic radiating from his vocal chords. “Help!!”
“I got you, sweetie, it’s okay.” His mother finally grabbed hold of his hand once more and drew him in, holding him close in her arms. “We have to hurry dear, let’s keep moving.”
She too was equipped with a hardsuit, although the Sivas military lacked a designated civilian hardsuit class, and Belos had compensated by assigning her a high-ranking medical position which required her to be equipped with one. It was lither and appeared very delicate, yet remained just as resilient as any other fabric hardsuit, and both her slimmer form and the unobstructive design of the hardsuit allowed her to slip through the steady stream of soldiers, one hand squeezing Vitus’ arm, as the pair made their way to the bridge embedded deep in the heart of the vessel.
Already the memory of what the bridge looked like was fading from view. Belos had stood, one arm pinning his helmet to his side, as the shining hull of Whispered Faith came into view. His hand raised; his mother, who had begun to bunch her hair into her helmet, paused as words were spoken.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay.”
She let go, her excessively long hair flowing back out into the room. Her face beneath the visor of her helmet smiled gently at her son; he did not return the expression. There was a palpable dread in the room, although it did not seem capable of piercing the ground where his father stood.
Two wicked ones emerged from the edge of the bridge, Barracuda destroyers. If there was an evil in the universe beyond that which now stared his father down through the curving screens, Vitus could not comprehend it existing. And yet, even at death reared its ugly head, he had to wonder if the universe was truly that cold. Surely there was more warmth than the absence of it?
The alert of an impending barrage was shouted, but Vitus knew enough about the opposing navy to easily locate the closed salvo doors. As he placed his helmet atop his scalp, feeling the collar suddenly snap shut and sever some of his hair as it did so, he couldn’t help but wonder if the bridge had made some kind of mistake.
He felt his mother’s hand pull him away from the scene. A fleeting glance back was obstructed by her hair, depriving him of the last chance he would ever get to see his father. The ship shuddered, the temperature quickly dropping in the hall, as the braking thrusters suddenly flared to life, throwing the ship about violently while halting its forward momentum in an instant.
The glow of Sivas shone through the open hole, the hallway now ending in a massive doorway to the emptiness of space. Whispered Faith and the two Barracudas were of no concern now, as the only thing entering his vision was the absence of a figure he had seen just a moment ago. Vitus blinked; his memory was correct. His father was gone.
He was still for a few seconds, watching the void with a gaping hole in his heart larger than the one left from the attack. His eyes turned towards his mother for some sign of solace, and froze not at the posture she had entered, slightly slumped with her head tipped and limbs stiff, but at the fogged-over visor embedded in her helmet.
“Mom?”
The words had not left his mouth before he knew what had happened. He knew there was no point in crying out to her any further; she was gone, just as quickly as his father had gone. Her feet slid for a moment on the metal floor before the magnets in her boots lost their hold, and her body drifted slowly in place, stiff from the cold and lifelessly static.
Vitus disconnected power from his boots.
Slowly drifting to meet her, he wrapped his arms around her torso and drew his knees up to his chest, clinging in silence as the white noise of the void filled his ears, framing the notes of his tears dancing off the inside of his visor. Those who had so far survived the impact would not reach him for five minutes more, leaving him alone in the stillness of the stars, silently shuddering as his arms ached from their grip.
The universe, it seemed, was a cold place after all.
Cold Embrace
Red Horizon
