AN: 10 Advanced Chapters on my Patreon
https://www.patreon.com/cw/Crimson_Reapr
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Anahrin slowly opened his eyes after he heard the hiss of the doors to the chamber as they opened. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for Mark to walk closer to him, but he never heard his footsteps. After some time of waiting, he finally made an effort to look towards the door.
He found it rather easy to move, as if his body didn't weigh as much as it had when he'd gone to sleep. Noticing this newfound energy he had, Anahrin made an effort to sit up, sweeping his long legs over the edge of the dais. He glanced at the door and noticed it was still open, yet no one had stepped through it.
He took a second to get his bearings before standing up slowly, working to balance himself due to the fact that it had been a while since he last stood on his own two legs. He glanced around the chamber once again before his head snapped toward the entrance as he heard some childish giggling coming from right outside the chamber.
The giggling was oddly familiar, and he could feel his heart starting to thunder inside his chest as he got closer to the doors. As soon as he walked through them, he turned to the left and right there was a Starthari child, a youngling crouched by the door. The child glanced up at him, and their eyes locked onto each other.
Anahrin was about to open his mouth to speak when the child made a shushing motion with her hands while giggling. "Hus,h Papa. Pop Pop is going to find us if you talk."
He felt his heart speed up even more as recognition finally dawned on him. The child before him was none other than his daughter. It had been over 800 years since he had last seen her, but now she stood, or rather crouched, before him, no longer resembling the grown woman he remembered her as, before an incident with a black hole stripped her from him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't able to get a single word out as an older Strathari rounded a corner. He was the spitting image of Anahrin, or should it be said, Anahrin was his spitting image. "There you are! Get over here!"
The little girl giggled as she stood up and made a break for it, slamming into Anahrin's legs and gripping them. His stature of 11 feet dwarfed her 5-foot-tall frame, and she didn't even reach Anahrin's hip. He looked down at the girl and ran a trembling hand through her purple hair before looking up at the older man.
Their eyes locked onto each other, and a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the giggling of the girl stuck to Anahrin's legs. "Fa... father... You... you're here..." Anahrin's heart thundered in his chest to a level he had never experienced in his life.
His father laughed out loud while leaning on the wall. "Look at this. 'You're here,' he says. Of course I am, this is our factory, where else would I be?"
Anahrin blinked, his mind running at the speed of light with possibilities. "But... that can't be... I- you... You're dead. I burned your body myself. There's no way you'd be here." He looked down at the girl who still gripped onto his leg. "And you too, sweetie. There's no way either one of you would... would be..."
Anahrin's father started to nod slowly, a bitter smile on his face as Anahrin started to realize his current predicament.
"Unless you're dead..." his father said, motioning to the chamber.
Anahrin turned his head slowly and stared at his own lifeless corpse as it lay on the dais. His chest was no longer moving, and the rattles of his breath no longer resounding throughout the chamber.
"Oh..." was the only thing Anahrin could say.
"Come on, buttercup, drag your Papa along with us," Anahrin's father said as he turned to walk back the way he'd come. "I've got something to show you."
Anahrin's daughter was quick to move, tugging at his arm with surprising strength and pulling him along to follow his father. He didn't resist, his legs moving on their own as they rounded the corner after his father.
As they moved through the hallways of the factory, he noticed how the state of the factory got progressively better, eventually coming to resemble the pristine white space fortress it had once been.
They eventually made their way to the assembly bay, where hundreds of other Strathari were gathered around the hulking figure of a ship he recognized. It was the Strathos' Shepherd, drones moving around it as they started to paint its hull in a special material that wouldn't fade for decades to come.
She dominated the bay like a monument, her angular hull stretching long as hundreds of Strathari admired her. There were craftsmen, engineers, and apprentices, all of them somehow deeply connected to Anahrin and his family. Their voices rang in a familiar cadence he hadn't heard in centuries.
The once Chrome plates magically transformed in an instant before him into a minimalist pattern of abyssal black that gave the ship a weight and gravity that was much more a ship deserved. Other plates were covered in a golden pattern that was bright and warm under the sunlight coming through the skylights.
It was a radiant contrast to the dark black her hull was mostly painted in, its design making the ship seem almost regal. And then his eyes landed on the red color. It reminded him of the color of Mark's EVA suit back when he had pulled him out of the pool; it wasn't a bright color. It was deep, blood red that streaked across her wings and down her flanks as though the statement "this is a dangerous ship, and you will lose if you face it," was being made by its color.
Anahrin's throat tightened as the sight washed over him, a sense of pride filling him. The crowd of Strathari cheered, their voices rising and echoing in the cavernous bay as his daughter squeezed his hand, her eyes wide and glittering with wonder. His father only smiled knowingly, as though he had been waiting for Anahrin to see this moment for himself.
"She is beautiful," Anahrin whispered, his voice breaking.
"Yes," his father said softly, his tone deep with pride. "This is the last physical evidence of your legacy, and the beginning of his."
Anahrin felt his chest tighten as his eyes locked onto who his father was pointing to, catching sight of Mark, who was making his way inside the ship. His eyes then turned back to his father, who smiled broadly.
"What are you waiting for? Go after him."
And so he did. Anahrin sprinted, his strides long as he quickly reached the Strathos' Shepherd. He was about to enter, but he glanced behind him first and noticed that everyone had disappeared
"Come on, he's getting closer to the reactor room," Anahrin's neck snapped towards the sound of the voice, only to come face to face with his father, who started moving immediately.
His father's figure, along with his daughter's, flickered in and out of existence as they guided him to the reactor room. Once inside the reactor room, Anahrin noticed that everyone who had been outside was now inside with him as well.
He saw Mark stand before the activation terminal for a few seconds before finally taking out the reactor's activation keycard from thin air. It just materialized in his hands.
"He is a special one, that descendant of ours," one of the many engineers said as everyone else nodded their heads in agreement.
Mark went to slide the keycard into its slot, but stopped just before inserting it, holding it just centimeters from the slot. Mark then spoke to himself in a sad tone, "This... this feels wrong. Ani should be here with me..."
After he said those words, Anahrin's father pulled him forward and next to Mark. "Well, what are you waiting for, son. He wants you to be here for this special moment."
Anahrin was speechless, but he nodded, bringing one of his hands over Mark's hands and whispering in his ear, "It's alright, I'd want to see it in its full glory anyway."
Mark's ears twitched as a certain sense of peace overcame him. Anahrin's hand helped guide him to insert the keycard into the slot, twisting it as he shook his head. "Nah, better for him to see her in all her glory, ready to take us both for the ride of our lives."
A wide smile spread across Anahrin's face as the massive reactor slowly came to life, bathing the entire place in a hue of deep blue. Faint white lights slowly came to life all throughout the ship as Anahrin's daughter gripped onto him harder.
"A ship's first breath will always remain the most beautiful sight to behold," Anahrin said, stroking his daughter's hair. They then followed Mark to the bridge and watched him press the activation prompt on the captain's console.
Anahrin had done everything within his power to ensure that the entire ship had the option to be controlled solely by the ship's captain, that being Mark. All of the systems rerouted themselves to the captain's chair as a low hum shook through the frame of the ship. Power surged from the reactor into the bridge and all throughout the ship.
Then a prompt appeared on the captain's console screen:
ENTER SHIP DESIGNATION:
Anahrin and everyone else watched as Mark didn't even hesitate, his fingers quickly tapping away at the screen as he typed.
STRATHOS' SHEPHERD
As the words locked in and a deep tone confirmed it as the given identity of the ship, the crowd of Strathari cheered in unison as a deep sense of pride filled Anahrin. Everyone celebrated, and Anahrin's father patted his shoulder as he spoke. "You taught him well, considering the time constraints and all."
Anahrin smiled as he nodded, "Yeah... Yeah, I did..."
Mark leaned back in the captain's chair as rows of screens to the left, right, and front of the captain's chair on the bridge changed, demonstrating the view of what was directly outside the ship seamlessly.
Anahrin walked over to stand next to Mark, who let out a long breath as he stared at the name of the screen. He patted Mark's shoulder gently and gave a soft chuckle. "It's my fault you won't get to show me this beauty taking its first step into the vastness of space. But you sure as hell did make me proud... Heh, you... You're not too bad for a human."
"Papa!" Anahrin's daughter waved at him, motioning for him to come over as she stood alongside his father and everyone else before what he could very clearly recognize to be the factory.
"What are you waiting for, son. We've got ships to craft," his father called out next, a smile on his face.
"Would you hurry it up already?" Some of the engineers called out.
Anahrin chuckled and started to walk towards them, stopping once he had reached where they stood. Everyone started walking away, but he turned around, and he could've sworn Mark had locked eyes with him. "You made this past year... interesting... I guess this is goodbye... Mark Shepherd."
Anahrin saw a tear roll down Mark's face, and before he could wipe it off, he turned and walked alongside his family in the direction of the factory, disappearing like sand in the wind.
---
"Why am I... crying?" Mark asked himself while he stared at his finger that glistened with the teardrop. Then another tear ran down his cheek, and another, and another. A sinking feeling settled in his chest as if something had gone unbelievably wrong, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.
"I- I guess it must be the jitters," he told himself. "I'm way too excited to have accomplished this. Yes, that's probably it. I just can't contain this joy." Mark tried to reassure himself, but no matter what he told himself, that feeling stayed in his chest.
The quiet of the bridge mixed with the soft hum of working systems that echoed throughout the entire ship gave Mark a rather relaxing atmosphere that allowed him to find his calm while he sat slouched in the captain's chair. The screens in front of him still glowed with the ship's name, Strathos' Shepherd, something he stared at until his eyes blurred, his body giving in to the fatigue that had been accumulating for days.
He told himself he would only close his eyes for a moment, that he would just rest and take a breather. But the silence, the gentle hum, and the comfort of the chair wrapped around him, and before long, Mark drifted into sleep.
He woke up to lights that had dimmed since the ship's life support systems scanned him and determined he was sleeping, sending a signal that allowed the ship's comfort mode to set in. His neck ached from the angle at which he had fallen asleep, and his jaw cracked when he stretched. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess, then pushed himself upright with a groan. The consoles brightened at his motion, and the viewing port mode activated, bathing the bridge in hues of pink and orange as the suns rose.
For a brief, beautiful second, Mark felt peace. He had done it. He had built a ship from nothing but scraps. Sure, he had fed those scraps to a printer and gotten back a finished material, but it still took time and nearly cost him his life multiple times. And most of all, he had taken the teachings of an alien from an ancient civilization; he'd been taught to think differently.
But as his eyes glanced around the bridge, they caught sight of the empty co-pilot's chair across from him. And a thought pulled at the edge of his mind: 'Ani should be here.'
Mark stood, shaking his head as he yawned and stretched his arms, back popping from the movement. He then made his way to the exit of the bridge, his boots echoing faintly through the halls as he descended the stairs, exited the ship, and walked the long way toward the medical chamber.
He hadn't checked on Anahrin since before the installation of the engines. Mark had told himself it was fine, that he'd bring Anahrin to the ship once it was ready, that he wanted Ani to see her ready for action.
But this uneasy feeling had been tormenting him since last night. He had thought of it as just the jitters, that he was overstimulated from finally accomplishing his goal. But once he left the ship, the same feeling had settled in his chest.
He came to the sealed doors of the chamber and pressed his hand to the panel. The hiss of the doors' moving mechanism filled the silence as the doors slid open.
"Hey, Ani," Mark called, the cheer in his voice palpable through the unease. "You'll never guess what, she's finished earlier than we expected. I even lit her up for the first time and have her ready for us to go take a ride."
However, a forboding silence was the only answer Mark got. He frowned as he called out again. "Ani?"
He stepped into the chamber and came to see the dais that glowed faintly under the sterile lights, illuminating Anahrin's body where it lay. Mark's breath caught in his throat as he analyzed the way the Strathari lay perfectly still. Too still.
Mark approached him slowly, his boots scuffing against the cold floor. Every step he took shook his expectations of Anahrin stirring awake and grumbling about being woken up, or to say, "as expected of my apprentice." But he didn't move at all, his chest didn't rise, and his long frame didn't shift.
"Ani…" Mark's voice cracked as he reached the dais. His hand hovered above Anahrin's arm before finally pressing down on it. Anahrin's flesh was cold and lifeless.
Mark staggered back a step, his hands trembling. "No. No, no, no. Not now. Not-" He cut himself off, his throat tightening as his eyes started to water. He grabbed Anahrin's shoulders and shook him, once, and then a second time, harder. "Come on, Ani. Wake up. You... you can't just... leave me, man."
But Mark's actions and words were to no avail, and reality hit like a hammer. Anahrin was gone. He had died while Mark worked on finishing the ship. He died without seeing the ship finished, without seeing her fly. He hadn't allowed Mark to keep the promise he had sworn to him.
Mark's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground beside the dais, his forehead pressing against its edge as his chest heaved, a raw sound tearing out of him. This was what he had been feeling since last night, all of a sudden, that heavy feeling in his chest, the grief, was let free and struck him like lightning as the weight of sorrow pinned him to the floor.
He stayed like that for what felt like hours, his tears soaking into the fabric of his sleeves. His body shook with every sob until he had no strength left to cry. The silence pressed in on him, mocking, suffocating.
"You stupid bastard," Mark whispered hoarsely. "I promised you. I swore you'd see her fly. I-" He slammed his fist against the dais, the sound ringing out in the chamber as two fist imprints were left on the metal. His voice broke again. "I'm sorry. I should've worked faster… No, I should've been here. I should've stayed with you... You wouldn't have had to face death alone..."
His words hung empty in the air. After all, there was no one there to hear him. No one to comfort him. No one to keep him company. He and Anahrin had probably been the only living beings on this damn planet, and now... now he was left all alone.
Mark remained in that chamber the entire day, sitting by Anahrin's side, having entire conversations with him, as if words could bridge the gap between life and death. He told Ani about the reactor lighting up, about the feel of the captain's chair, and about how seamless the bridge's display system for the viewport was. He spoke of all the little victories they had shared during the building, and of the mistakes that had nearly killed him more than once. His words came out fractured, but he spoke them anyway, because the silence was unbearable, and Anahrin deserved more than silence.
When the lights in the chamber shifted to signal the evening, Mark finally stood. His body felt like stone, and his eyes were swollen from grief. He looked down at Anahrin one last time, his throat tight.
"I'll make sure she lives up to your expectations, Ani," Mark whispered. "Even if you're not here to see it… the last of your legacy... She'll make you proud."
It took everything he had to step away. To walk down the corridors and not look back. But Mark forced himself onward. There was still work to be done, one last task Anahrin had entrusted him with.
He climbed back into the bridge and forced his shaking hands onto the console. His vision blurred as he initiated a full systems check on the Strathos' Shepherd.
Engines- Green.
Reactor- Stable.
Life support- Operational.
Weapons- Offline. Dormant and Ready.
The ship was alive, purring under his touch, waiting for her first flight as Mark wiped his face with the back of his hand and exhaled shakily. "She's ready, Ani. She's really ready."
Then he left the bridge, descending deeper into the factory until he reached the sealed room, a chamber that had been untouched for ages, perfectly preserved. Its walls gleamed in a pristine white, its air cold and crisp. Here lay what Anahrin had tasked him to take care of.
Mark placed his palm against the central console, and with a thought, activated the self-destruct sequence. There were some alien words, but the 10-hour timer didn't need translation as the countdown began to tick silently in his vision.
This had been Anihrin's last wish. If there were no Strathari left to watch over, then there should be no Strathari technology left to possibly land in the hands of the wrong person. The factory was Anahrin's tomb, and so it too would disappear with its owner.
Mark then made his way to the chamber where the two nanoprinters stood. He walked to each of them in turn, resting his palm against their cold surfaces. With a thought, they dissolved into light and vanished into his system's inventory. Then he made his way back to the assembly chamber, to the Cargo Rover, placed his hand on it, and he stored it away as well.
The drones stirred from their stations, recognizing his commands, and streamed into the Strathos' Shepherd cargo hold. Mark watched them vanish into the ship one by one before he finally boarded the Strathos' Shepherd. He walked slowly, his boots dragging across the gangway. The ship's interior lights brightened at his approach, welcoming him, but all felt dull.
He made his way up and stopped at the edge of the bridge, staring at the captain's chair. He wanted to collapse into it again, to close his eyes and forget about the world, but Anahrin wouldn't want that.
So Mark climbed into the chair, his grief still gnawing at him as he rested his hand on the console. He chuckled softly as he remembered something Anahrin had told him months ago. "You're not too bad for a Strathari either, Ani."
He tapped away at the console, and the Factory's doors slid open for the first time in millennias. Mark activated the hover move and felt the ship shape a little as it lifted off the ground. He retracted the landing struts and started inching the vessel through the doors.
Once the ship was finally outside, finally graced by the direct rays of a sun, Mark whispered softly, "I guess this is goodbye... Anahrin."