"It is not rebellion itself which is noble but the demands it makes upon us."
-Albert Camus
2217 A.D.
"To anyone who happens to receive this broadcast, this is Ayden Alexander, former United Coalition of Terran Intelligence officer and pilot of H.A.R.M. Unit Two-One-Five, Shinobi. My machina has taken extensive damage and I'm currently stuck free floating in what I believe to be the gamma sector of the Sol System…" the words cut through his throat and out his chapped lips.
His glacial eyes strained behind the partially shattered glass visor of the crimson and white helmet, that for the first time since he had worn it, seemed to fit much too tightly around his aching head. A warmth flowed down his olive toned forehead, past the bridge of his nose, and into his open mouth.
His stomach lunged violently as the mixture of salt and metal attacked his tongue. Swallowing quickly and painfully, he struggled to hold down what little contents his stomach held.
His eyes continued to attempt to search the holoscreen in front of him, blurred from the blood, sweat, and filth that covered his face.
"Goddammit work..." Ayden cursed to himself as he swung his hand at the hologram, like someone would to fix the picture on an old television. A motion made in vain, as his hand only passed through the light.
Finally the images focused enough for his eyes to make sense of them. Ayden cleared his throat, the taste of blood returning.
"…roughly two hundred thirty four thousand miles above the surface of Mars," he continued, his voice raising to overcome the sounds of the alarms screaming in the cockpit. Wincing, he willed his hand toward the screen, despite the urge to curl up into a ball.
Just a few more moments and you can rest…
The hologram is replaced with a small 3D diagram of Shinobi, as he swiped his right hand in front of himself. The blinking red that made up most of the model told him what he already knew, yet had hoped wasn't true.
"All mobility is inoperable. A.I. is down. Oxygen levels currently sit at fifty seven percent and are declining rapidly," he said.
From his peripheral, his eyes caught a glimpse of one of small silver orbs that were used to pilot the machina. Four of them orbited his body. Tiny planets, who's sole purpose was to copy his every move, allowing for real time combat to be possible. His eyes followed as they slowly made their way around him, slowing as time passed. What were once a part of his world he didn't take notice to, much like breathing, now acted as a simple distraction from the hell he had put himself into.
The screaming of the sirens jerked him back to reality.
"Once again, this is Ayden Alexander. If anyone is listening, please, send help. I don't want to die here…" he paused.
"…end transmission," he finished with a heavy sigh.
His hands shook uncontrollably as he brought them towards his helmet. Finding the two small metal latches on either side, his fingers strained to release them from the rest of the lightweight Kevlar suit that covered his body. A breath of relief escaped his lungs as he freed his skull from the carbon fiber cage it had been placed in. For a brief moment, the sound of the falling helmet, meeting with the metal floor of the cockpit, overtook the sound of the alarm systems. As his hair fell free, and came to rest on his shoulders, he brought his hands up to run his fingers through the thick brown strands. Another thing that was 'new' to him. How much had he lost sight of, in the time he had set off on this 'suicide' mission of his?
Up until now he thought he had it all figured out. Made the right choices. But the pipe-dream was now crashing around him. He wondered if everyone had this much regret with their lives, when staring death in it's eyes. Even the most disturbed actions seem just in the mind of madness.
The sound of something hitting Shinobi's windshield caught his attention. He watched the upper half of a severed torso slammed into the glass, parts of the frozen mass breaking off and floating away.
As the corpse drifted and turned in the endless void outside the mech, time seemed to slow for a moment, long enough to make sure he caught the sight of the patch sewn on the right shoulder.
U.C.T.I.
He hit his knees and fell forward, clenching his stomach. There was no stopping it this time. His throat caught fire, as the remains of his stomach came exploding out onto the metallic floor.
He pushed himself upward, resting his elbows on his knees. He watched as the corpse drifted from sight. Chances were high that the remains once belonged to someone he had once known. Someone he may of once called friend, or even worse, family.
The remaining lights around him began to flicker, and then it all went dark, minus the faint glow of the endless space outside.
Following the blackout, came the silence, as the sirens stuttered, and died. It was only a matter of time now before the remaining oxygen went with it, and eventually his life.
The thud of the sensor spheres crashing around him broke the silence of the darkness. He shifted his body, so he was laying on his back. Starring into the nothingness, he let out a heavy sigh.
All there was left to do was wait and let his mind wander. He tried to imagine what each of them were doing in that moment. Were they looking for him, or given up on him? What would they even say if they did find him in time?
"Traitor…" Ayden whispered, answering his own question.
Not that he could blame them either way. That's what he was, by all rights. He had abandoned them all, without a word. He had killed countless, on the path to eliminate only eleven.
He closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. Behind his eyelids, the images flashed. Imagines of laughter, of war, of her. A single tear escaped, and made its way down his cheek. He brought his hand up, wiping it away.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had time, even if it was only a little, to at least try to figure out where he had gone wrong. Facing the end, he felt all there was to do was ponder all that had lead him to this moment.