The main research center of the Icarus is spartan in comparison to the other facilities that adorn this behemoth of a station. However there are very few researchers to begin with, and as such a much bigger room wouldn't be necessary.
I stop in front of a sterile steel door, and press a button next to it and wait. And wait...
"Come in," a voice says from the other side as the steel door opens with a faint groan.
I enter and almost stumble due to a crate that was left at the entrance. You couldn't really blame me though, due the complete darkness of the research center. There are very few, if not only one person in the station who indulges in the dark as much as Ester. It matters not how many times I come here, I seem to be caught off guard by something on the floor and manage to stub my foot into it.
Deep in her own thoughts and contemplations, Ester sits in complete silence, her arms hugging her knees as she sits on a office chair at the center of the room. Her serene and tired face illuminated by the glow of the only source of light in the room—that is the projector.
Ester Romanus is different from Cassava. While Cassava is more brutish and forward in her pursuit of answers regarding the Fall of Old Earth, the Colonies, and the Shadows—Ester is more patient and willing to discuss her ideas and theories.
That is what I appreciate about Ester. She requires very little words to truly express herself, having perhaps taken the phrase, 'Actions Speak Louder Than Words' too seriously.
I find my bearings and recover from my darkness induced vertigo, I stumble around some more before finding a chair in the corner. I drag it and place it besides Ester's, and take a seat.
"Agrius," Ester mutters with a small tilt of her head to my direction without breaking eye contact on the projector—her own way of greeting me.
"Ester," I whisper back, careful not to disturb her concentration, something that I had learnt a few meetings ago.
I find my eyes straying from the projector and onto Ester. Deep bags adorn the bottom of her eyes like battle scars from a long winded and brutal war. Though I have told her time and again to refrain from destroying her health and body like this, she insists that her body has adapted to her rigorous sleep schedule. The very times that I have seen Ester sleep a normal hours worth of hibernation were during Solstice and Equinox.
Solstice and Equinox are the few holidays that are celebrated on the Icarus, commemorating and honoring the lives lost during the Fall of Old Earth. The reason for these dates is due to the fact that it was during Solstice that the Fall began—And when the Great Houses of Earth began tearing the soils and oceans of their homeland in the name of their greed and pride. Equinox was when the Shadows came—And when all was lost, only they remained upon the soils that we, the Homo sapiens, were overlords for 300,000 years.
The lives lost throughout the one year that the Fall started and began, and by Ester and my own calculation and approximation—11,213,373,984 lives.
The population of the entire known Solar System was 23 billion lives by conservative estimates. 1/2 of the Human race was gone. Yet, the Colonies remain.
"Strange," murmured Ester as the video ends, some grooved and blurry footage of Shadows attacking civilians and soldiers alike.
"They're aware." Ester pauses the projector right before it ends, and there lies a Shadow. A very clear image of one at that as it stares directly at us—at the camera, the moment is captured just before it tears right into the camera and everything fades to black. Shadows are given that name for a reason, after all. Manifestations of darkness. Yet some reports we scavenged from one of the Great House's say that there are different types of Shadows; some even resemble humans, while some resemble grotesque embodiments of Lovecraftian horrors like that of Shoggoth or Dagon.
Shadows... Shadows don't look anything like Humans, yet in their very nature they embody us as a whole. Their malice knows no bound as they murdered indiscriminately. Shadows look more like the manifestation of Death itself; it neither knows that it is doing anything inherently wrong or that they are doing something. They just are.
"Yet—they seem to know what is and what is not sentient," Ester stands up from her chair and circles the room for a moment. "What do you propose, Agrius? Are they or are they not sentient?" She turns to me, her hazel eyes awaiting my answer with endless curiosity like that of a child's.
"Say, your theory is correct—and they are sentient? Was it all planned then? From the very beginning of the Fall and the end? If that is the case... We might as well hope that they don't find us and that we don't find them in one of our air docks." I say, not knowing what else to add on.
Ester doesn't speak a word for several moments, as if in deep thought. Then she does, first with a sigh and then a faint chuckle.
"That's looking to be the case very soon, Agrius, if the expedition to Luna might prove that the Colonies are alive and well—we might have a faint chance of survival. But life never quite turns out the way we want it to be, no?" She said, faintly sentimental.
"I have faith in the volunteers," I answered, "Though I wished that I too, could act like a Pioneer. Tried to convince the old man, said the expedition was full—whatever the hell that means." I say with slight irritation before resigning myself back to my chair.
"Life before the Fall must have been nice—travelling to Venus, Mars, or Mercury in a few weeks time. Whenever you wanted."
"If you were rich and had connections? Maybe. But don't forget that there was a recession for six whole years across the system. Most people didn't have the time to watch gladiators on Mars killing each other for an abominable price, Agrius."
"I know, I know, no need to deflate my dreams for the millionth time."
"Well I'm just teaching you to keep your what-ifs and aspirations down before you hit your head on the ceiling."
"Anyway," I pause, thinking. "Aren't you joining the volunteers in the expedition to Luna?"
She nods, walking over to the side of the room and fixing herself some... Coffee? I stopped questioning the fact that she can see in the darkness—or the fact that she somehow hasn't burned herself yet.
"Yeah, why? Jealous much?" She asked with a sip of her mug.
"Slightly. You and Cassava leaving me alone in the station with the old man? Man, I must have done something awful in my past life to be subjected to-"
"Hm. Am I such bad company, Lucius?" a voice says from the entrance.
Lionel Romanus, Father of Ester, Helmsman and Head Researcher of the Icarus leans on the doorway, arms crossed.
"Speak of the Devil." Ester said with an amused smile drawing on her lips.
Resigning to my fate, I turn to the old man—Mr. Romanus, I mean—and with the least apologetic tone I could muster:
"I meant every word I said, sorry."
The already tensed smile on Romanus's face further rises as he walks up to me and rubs his knuckles into my scalp.
"Ow! Ow! This is child abuse, old man!"
"You aren't a child anymore, Lucius," he says as he lets go of me and sighs.
"You two kids at it again? As I shall reiterate, no children of mine will procreate before the age of 18-"
"What? Shut up, Dad."
"What? Shut up, Old man."
Me and Ester said simultaneously.
Romanus roams the research center, running his hands through the walls before a faint click echoes through, not a second later light shines down upon us. I flinch and cover my eyes, letting it adjust for a couple of seconds. Ester, the vampire she is—looked like somebody had thrown vinegar or shampoo into her eyes as she groans and puts her arm in front of her face.
After a couple of minutes, Ester finally adjusted to the brightness of the room—yet her eyes are narrowed into daggers as she glared at her father.
"I thought you were busy with the expedition, Dad, why are you here?" She said, not the least bit flustered as she already heard from me herself and others—a dozen times or so, of how crude our nightly meetings were to an outsider's perspective.
"Well. I was looking for Lucius here—needed to speak to him." Romanus said simply enough as he walks to the same coffee table from earlier to make himself one too.
What was the saying? Like father, like daughter?
My eyes follow Romanus before speaking, "Why?"
"Why? A spot has opened up, boy," he turns to me, and with two mugs in hand—he extends one to me with a grim smile.
"Welcome to the Lunar Expedition, Volunteer Lucius Agrius."