‘Surprising, to say the least...’ This caused the tall man to stop walking down the lengthy corridor and hide around the corner and peek into the open room. No furniture was there. The only decoration was the window that was stuck facing the left wing of the C-ship named Freedom. The infinite blackness that followed past the wing was the only company the lone ship had in the endless stretch of space that it glided through silently.

            ‘That woman… with that noise-making hole in her head… she prophesied another would come—one moment—you there! At the door! Go away!’ The mental conversation was overpowering to the eavesdropper and he darted away before any clues to his identity could be found.

            ‘Another would come? What does that mean?’ He thought to himself, ensuring his mental barriers were kept up and no other could intrude on his conversation just as he did with the ship’s officer general. ‘They must have been talking about Aunt Cherry. I’ll go visit her today.’

            The man had grown up alone. His parents were part of the travelling force that landed on lands they happened across and gathered whatever material for their foods and repairs needed to the ship, then fly back and drop it off. They were constantly busy and never had the chance to stop for a day or two on Freedom before having to set off on another adventure. Due to this history, he maintained the innocent curiosity that all children had, with the same tinge of maturity that came with age and experiencing the disheartening situation of watching people around him die, the strict punishment of being too curious, and the shame of not being as advanced as the others his age. He practiced much in eavesdropping and sneaking past mental barriers that the others had set up around their mind’s thoughts, and built up his own defenses to protect him from the embarr*censored*ment of others learning just how stupid he really was.

            ‘Z!’ The colorful thoughts of that happy young woman flooded his mind, pounding at the barrier he had set up. He turned around and saw the slender woman standing before him in a long, piercing blue sweater with a collar that wrapped around her neck like a loose scarf and pure white flats. Her large green eyes dazzled with brilliance as they curved into perfect crescent moons on her pale face.

            ‘Sydney.’ He replied in considerable calmness, despite being elated to see a friendly, familiar face.

            The smaller woman’s arms wrapped around the towering shoulders of the man addressed as Z. His gaze settled on the top of her white-haired head and his slightly constricted arm moved up to allow his hand to pat her on the back. ‘Z, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be working?’ She lifted her head so her eyes could look up at his as he allowed her thoughts to flow into the simple corridor in his mind that he constructed, so she wouldn’t wander through and snoop at thoughts he didn’t want her to see.

            ‘The other guys hauled my load today before I got there. I don’t think they want me around anymore.’ Z responded slowly and carefully. He simply shrugged and heaved a sigh through his nose. “I suppose I’ll have to find a new job to keep me busy.’

            Sydney’s eyes darkened, losing their brilliant shine and her eyebrows crunched together. ‘Why do they have to be rude to you? They’re probably jealous of your intense understanding of the Argandian mind.’

            Argandians were creatures of immense mental complexity. Able to speak through telepathy, their race had discarded the need of mouths and had remained silent for years. In a strange turn of events, the Arga people had their lips sealed forever. The knowledge of mouths existed through the sightings of other species on planets that the travelling force visited. They didn’t know what they were called, so they were just simply referred to as ‘holes’.

Their planet was wiped away from the universe. No one knows what exactly happened or how it came to p*censored*. The elderly of the Argandians tell stories of how they were evacuated as children to the many C-ships that were constructed a year after a great light appeared in the sky and descended onto the land where it vanished. There is only a handful left of those that came from that era. Since then, five generations have come and left. The oldest of them all was a small woman named Cherry.

Cherry had gone blind that day the light fell. That night she screamed. It was the first time in countless millennia that a noise was heard on that planet. Her telepathy went away as well, as it takes eyesight to be able to see the waves of color floating through the air between two or more people. People can still put their thoughts in her mind, but she cannot put hers in theirs, so she resorts to using her mouth. Whenever she does, people give her such disgusting looks. She never notices, though, so she still feels as if she’s friends with everyone and the feeling is mutual among them. The noise that escapes her mouth frightens them. The very fact she has a mouth frightens them. It’s something weird that they’ve never seen on their own people, and only one person is afflicted with this anomaly.

            ‘You’re going to see Cherry,’ the girl’s thoughts flowed into Z’s head so suddenly; he jumped slightly, a startled spark flashed in his eyes. He glanced down to Sydney and shook his head, thinking about lying, but then rolled his eyes and nodded. ‘Oooh! Can I come?’

            Z’s brows furrowed and he stared at Sydney long and hard before shrugging and jerking his head in a motion to allow her to follow him. Her eyes arched into the crescent moon shape they were in before and she followed behind giddily.

- End Episode One -

Knock! Knock! was heard at the door. A series of beeps was heard from the other side of the wall and the door slid open by itself. Once the pair stepped into the room, a frightening sound could be heard. “Oh you came! You came to see me! Sit down, children. Please, sit down! I don’t have any food or drinks for you I hope that’s fine… oh of course it is, you don’t eat or drink. Hee hee. Silly of old Aunt Cherry. Mind the pillow, dear, I have some pins in there from my sewing. Z, don’t sit down before the ladies! Who taught you manners? Oh wait, I did. Hee hee heeee!”

            Her stream of words flowed through her mouth quickly and with much emotion. It was difficult to tell how she was actually feeling when she spoke. Had it not been for her thoughts, Z and Sydney would have thought she was mad. The two women sat down and Z followed suit shortly after and leaned forward and interlocked his fingers between the other set on his other hand. ‘Aunt Cherry, I have to ask you something,’ Z’s thoughts flowed into Cherry’s mind with ease and settled down. ‘I overheard the officer general and some stranger speaking in one of the rooms on the leisure floor and he said you had prophesied another one coming. Another one what? Another light?’

            “Oh Z, you curious little whelp! You don’t need to worry yourself with these things. They’re just gossip and rumors I start to keep me busy and keep people coming to me for short little visits. You shouldn’t believe too much you hear from other people. It’s a small ship and lots of rumors spread pretty fast, don’t you think? Oh Sydney, dear, don’t touch the blanket, please. No, those are just stories I made up. I can’t prophesize anything! I’m just a crazy old woman who had strange things happen to her and now she’s lonelier than a slug in a desert.”

            Aunt Cherry loved to talk. The sound of her own voice pleased her so much; she hardly took a breath as she spoke. She’d go sentences and paragraphs without taking a breath until she couldn’t talk any longer and was forced to stop talking and inhale deeply. Then she would resume the conversation as though it had never stopped. She was forced to live by herself because no one could stand to hear her voice. It was an appalling thing to see on an Argandian, like a discolored wart right in the middle of a person’s forehead with several hairs sticking out of it. Z had grown up hearing her voice, so he had adjusted to it. It was the teeth that she had behind her mouth that frightened him the most. He had never seen teeth before, he didn’t even know their name until she coined up the term “Clackers” for the sound they made on those days she was bored and wanted to move her mouth a bit.

            ‘So, it was a lie?’ Z responded. Sydney could pick up on the disappointment in his thoughts; the shade of blue in his thought-waves certainly couldn’t be missed against his normally vibrant, warm hues. Z closed his eyes and shook his head and dropped it. The young woman placed a hand on his shoulder, then stood up and walked over to the door to leave. Z lifted his gaze and saw Cherry staring at him intensely. Slightly startled, he returned the stare, then slipped into her mind to see what she was thinking.

            The vision of the light entered his mind instantly. He saw what she saw all those years ago. After that, it was entirely black. Suddenly a faint outline appeared in the vision. Z thought he was slipping from her mind so he focused a little harder on searching. Colors instantly started appearing and another light came down from the sky, this time the point-of-view was at another angle. It was from behind the light. A brilliant tail flowed behind the ball of light, leaving a sparkling residue on the sky. Z saw, for a split second, the face of a person who was about to be struck by the light. After that, he saw the person’s face tear open and lips and clackers reveal themselves.

            Z was forced out of his probing with violent shaking. Sydney was shaking him and the sound of screaming could be heard. Z snapped to his senses and turned to see Aunt Cherry clutching her head and screaming. The man staggered up and stared down at her with horror, her clackers were out and a strange, pink muscle was trembling slightly. He turned to Sydney, both with fear in their eyes, and said. ‘We have to go. We can’t stay here!’ They both turned towards the door and ran off down the hallway. Z avoided telling Cherry he was sorry, at least for now. Sydney and Z turned a corner and slammed into two of the grunt soldier cl*censored* members. The stared down at the two—as they had fallen—and an icy blue color entered their minds.

            ‘You two are under arrest for disturbing the peace.’ Behind the two large men was an unusually tall man with equally as unusual long, black hair. Half was pinned behind his head with a decorative clip. His bangs ran down the side of his almost grey face and partially covered the corners of his eyes. One long, silvery patch of hair ran down the middle of his face and ended just below his jaw line. His eyes were an unsettling black. No shine to them at all. The man stared down at them with an ex
pression of disgust and hatred. A moment p*censored*ed with an awkward silence before the man nodded and the soldiers picked the two up and followed behind the tall man slowly.

            ‘Sydney didn’t do anything! Let her go!’ Z argued, his thoughts colored with desperation and anger. Sydney glanced to her friend with a bit of concern in her eyes. One brow was pushed down and both pressed towards each other, almost touching.

            The tall man spun around on his heel and stared at the two. Z began pushing forward thoughts in his mind to make it appear as though he really was the one at fault and Sydney just happened to bump into him as he ran. The man picked up on Z’s thoughts and nodded to the soldier carrying Sydney over his shoulder. The soldier dropped her and stepped aside to let her walk past. ‘Then you will suffer the punishment of two people.’ The man sent firmly. Z simply nodded and glanced to Sydney, who returned the gaze with gratitude and sadness.

            Three men walked to an elevator and pushed the bottom floor. Z was being carried, slung around the shoulder of the soldier that held him. The elevator slid down silently along the linear tunnel. The lights flashed as they went down deeper and deeper to the bottom of the ship. The doors open and invited a horrible stink into the elevator. The strongest light in the whole area was from the elevator. Once the group stepped out, the door closed and darkened the room considerably. There were several light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Their light was barely useful since they were so high and the lighting wires were loose. Above them were the pipes and gears the ship used to keep it moving and allow the luxuries of living to continue running. The occasional scream of steam bursting from a pipe to release pressure could be heard in the deafeningly silent bottom floor. The group walked through the room with such ease; it was like they had been there before. They knew when to lift their feet higher to avoid tripping on a floor pipe and when to duck their heads to avoid being struck by a low-laying gear.

            Finally they came to the farthest corner in the basement. A single cage with old, rusted bars stood there. The bottom was lined with the same rusted bars. Provided was an old, tattered book as well as a thin, straw pallet to rest on. Sleeping on the bars may be more comfortable, as you wouldn’t have the irritable itch afterward. The bulky soldier dropped Z down and shoved him into the cage and slammed the door behind him. The tall man stepped up to the cage bars and stared down at Z and said to him. ‘Two weeks. No other material other than that book. Hope you have an active imagination.’ He spun around and Z forced countless thoughts into the man’s head, causing him to stumble as he took his first step. The man quickly regained his footing and stood up straight and placed his hands behind his back and remained facing away from the cage. He then said. ‘Four weeks.’ And walked off. The two soldiers following behind slowly.

- End Episode Two -

                        It had been six weeks since his being exiled to the harsh environment down in the bottom of the C-ship. Had Sydney not secretly met with him every day to give him something to read other than that repetitious book, he would have never known and surely would have broken. The pages of the book that was left were scribbled on by those who stayed there before, offering some form of variety in the dull paragraphs he could nearly quote word-for-word.

                        On the last day of his incarceration, the same two men who accompanied the tall man approached Z and handed him a note. Z took the note and refused to read it until he was out of their sight. He walked ahead of them and into the elevator and closed the doors before they could get there. A sort of weak pride rose in him as he watched their eyes fill with disgruntled rage as he began to rise above them in the elevator.

                        On the 23^rd floor, the doors opened silently and he stepped out. To his right, Sydney stood with her eyes lit up and curved upward in that beautiful happy face she always had when she saw Z. He turned to the left, however, and opened the note to read what had been written.

ript MT'">You will have to forgive me. I have been so caught up in

ript MT'">this week’s work that your punishment

ript MT'">simply escaped my mind.

ript MT'"> 

ript MT'">I pray this will teach you a lesson.

ript MT'">No hard feelings!

ript MT'">~ Sigmund

                        He crushed the paper in his hand and abruptly turned to the right at the last door in the hallway. The door opened agonizingly slow and he walked through. Sydney rushed in afterward, knowing he’d have the door closed and locked if she didn’t slip in right after him. As she suspected, the door closed and the sound of it locking could be heard. Sydney walked up and grabbed the note from his hand and read it quickly. ‘What a liar!’ Was all she said in regards to the note.

                        Z sat down on his couch. His room was perfectly white and clean. A simple couple’s couch and an arm chair surrounded a gl*censored* coffee table with an intricately carved vase filled with marbles as decoration on the simple table. Under that was a soft carpet made from a prosthetic fabric. The ground was a smooth tile that was almost slippery to those who wore socks. There were no paintings to mark a difference on his walls. The ceiling was short, and the room was not that large. It was very similar to the room Aunt Cherry lived in.

He had been staring at the hologram vision for quite some time now. An inner debate boiled inside him whether or not he should turn it on and watch the news, which would be the same as before. “Scouts have reported nothing. Supplies will be coming in a certain number of days. Glorify the leaders for we are the mindless idiots who could do nothing for ourselves and rely heavily on some one less stupid than us to guide us through these perilous times.”

                        The silence settled down thickly like a spread of frozen butter on thin bread. Feeling torn and uncomfortable, Sydney broke the quietness with a soft tone. ‘I told father what Sigmund did…’ Z made no movement and no acknowledgement that he heard her. She sat on the other side of the couch, pensive and uncomfortable. He continued to stare around, avoiding her ever-present gaze on his face. Meeting her eyes would mean he would have to tell her what he was thinking. He would see what she was thinking and he wanted to be alone in his head for a while.

                        ‘Z, you’re acting like a baby. Stop pushing people out who want to help you.’ She sent with a slightly annoyed tone. Z glanced to her and took in all her thoughts and shared little with her. She’d understand he wanted to be alone, and hopefully respect his wishes. Sydney remained still and staring. He returned her intense green gaze until he finally caved and spoke more openly with her.

                        ‘Sydney, I can’t stay on this ship anymore. I know that Sigmund is gunning for me to have the same fate as my parents. I saw it in the note he gave me. One more screw up and I’m out, and he’s going to frame me. He hates me. Only god knows why…’ Z’s posture shifted from a relaxed slouch on the couch to a strained haunch over his lap and his hands cupped his face. ‘I don’t want to leave here. I’ll never make it out in those voyage missions’ A slow, deep inhalation of breath could be heard.

Sydney looked away and rolled her eyes. ‘You won’t get sent away. I’m sure my father would intervene and stop him from being completely out of line with his power-‘ Z cut her off by closing the door to his mind and placing up his nearly impenetrable walls. She shot an evil glare at him and stood up quickly. The woman allowed herself to stare holes into his soul for one more moment before turning on her heel and stomping to the door. She stood in front of it, waiting for them to part, but they didn’t. ‘Aren’t you going to let me leave?’ She barked in his head, pounding at the walls and kicking at the doors in his mind.

Z stood up from the couch and walked over to Sydney and embraced her gingerly. He knew she didn’t like being touched when she was mad, but he needed to show his apologetic demeanor. ‘I’m sorry, Sydney. I guess I let Sigmund get to me.’ She didn’t move at all, remaining perfectly still with her arms down to her sides and her eyebrows still crunched together in aggravation. The door unlocked and opened and the two released from their position. She turned on her heel and stomped out without a glance behind her. Z rubbed the back of his head and walked to his bathroom. He needed to shower. His brown hair was almost grey with dust that he had collected for the while he was down in the basement. He turned on the sonic shower and watched the light waves beat down perilously from the top sphere and ring and bounce back up from the bottom platform. He quickly undressed and stepped onto the platform and allowed the micro-beads of the light waves scurry across his body without any sensation of feeling cleaned.

He stepped out and walked to his room and dressed into a plain white jacket whose collar rose up his neck and almost touched his chin. He buttoned down the shirt and put on a pair of equally white matching pants. Z stepped out from his room and approached the couch, daring to test the consistent news cast he had watched ten times over every day. The first step he took was never completed. He was struck from behind and his worked went black.

The Argandians surrounding him had a sad look on their faces and in their eyes. Z struggled to bl
ink and focus his eyes as he sat up to stare around. He was being carried by a large man. Judging by the stink that wafted up into his nostrils, it was one of the men he had left behind in the cellar. ‘What’s going on?’ Z asked, his mind’s colors still misted and blurred.

A voice arose from ahead. Sigmund stood before the travelling crowd. ‘Welcome to the Voyager Sector. You all are now the new voyagers to replace those whom we have just lost. Your mission is to collect what was dropped and bring it back here. Harvest fast, my friends!’

Z began to thrash and flail about wildly, causing people to step back and stare at him. His wild eyes flared with rage as he pounded at the back of the large man. His efforts went fruitless, as the man squeezed tighter onto Z’s body and crushed his organs and bones. Sigmund watched as Z was carried by with a look of approval and accomplishment.

‘What have I done?!’ Z demanded.

‘Inappropriate contact with a woman of notable reputation.’

‘I only hugged her!’

‘Tsk tsk… we all know what hugs lead to, Mister Zedrick.’

‘Z!’  Sydney’s colors filled his head again. Frantic and fearful. He glanced up just in time to see her get pushed back from the wave of Argandians walking down the hallway. Their eyes drowned her in a sea of sorrow and dismay. He struggled to get free again, but was crushed once more. Something inside him snapped and caused his vision to fade again. He was violently thrown into the cockpit of the small vessel that would carry him around the lifeless universe. Sydney caught up in time to have the lid slammed shut on her. She pounded on the gl*censored* frantically, tears forming in her eyes. Z stared up at her, his eyes drooped and his mind blurred. She quickly wrote on the window with her finger “Stay alive!” and his small ship was sent off from the safety of the harbor. Z’s vision then went black once more.

-tries to sing- 

Siii-iii-iiilent night, Hoooooly night. o___o

Alll is something, all is something

Sleep in something something something something

Something Something Something Something..... 

Uhm.

Whit eats bacon.

-flees- 

D:

That was so beautiful. *wipes tear from eye*

                He awoke to the sound of a gentle tap on gl*censored*. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the brightness gleaming in his face. Z brought up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare from the flashlight that one of his companion Voyagers shone directly into his face. ‘Vessel B-22 occupant has bodily damage from prior to landing—a broken rib. Medics have been notified.’ Z touched his side and winced. He lifted hi shirt as best he could and saw the m*censored*ive purple and blue bruise over his left rib cage. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The pain flooded through his body and immobilized him. The Argandian outside his pod remained there for a while, the light shining in his face as though it were keeping him conscious, which it was.

                A medic arrived a great deal later. He sauntered up casually and popped open the pod’s lid and roughly pulled Z out. His mind groaned as his muscles rubbed against the jagged, broken bone within his skin. The medic then said. ‘Man, up. You’re a Voyager now.’ Z thought to himself of ways to retort, but found that his focus should be on subduing the pain, for this medic had no sense of mercy and pain was his specialty.

                With a swift movement of his left hand, the medic replaced the broken rib back to where it should be by practically punching it once. Air exhaled quickly and sharply from Z’s nostrils and he grabbed his side and rolled to the side a bit. Several deep, forced breaths followed and his eyes widened and pupils shrunk. He almost blacked out again, but forced himself to remain conscious throughout the pain.  He recalled the motto the general of the Argandian army always said. ‘That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.’

                Z stood up after a bit with the aid of the one who found him and shone the light in his face. He leaned on him for support, noting that his head was spiraling violently and couldn’t find ground to stabilize on, just as he. After several steps, Z let go of his human crutch and began walking on his onw, but much slower than he used to. Terrance, the flashlight man, became Z’s friend fast. As they walked about the strange planet, he told him about himself and how he was chosen to be a Voyager.

                ‘My parents were Voyagers before me. They wanted me to be a soldier for the intergalactic army, but I felt that scouting new lands and gathering whatever I could was much more exciting than flying around and shooting down things that moved,’ Terrance said, his eyes curving slightly and his ears raised. Z noticed this strange addition and saw that his face warped and the sides of his face rounded. Terrance noted Z’s staring and answered his unasked question. ‘Oh I practice moving my face muscles all the time. Your aunt Cherry really inspired me. She looks cute when she uhh… what did she call it… smiles!’

                It was the first time anyone cared to mimic Cherry. She was a freak of nature and people who copied here or were remotely interested in here was considered just as freakish. Seeing Terrance’s face like that made him think of Sydney. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands cupped his face. ‘Sydney…’ he thought to himself, holding back the tears.

                Voyaging wasn’t the most desired chore. Soldiers were sent out before the voyagers to eliminate any threats that may attempt to interfere with the process of gather materials and voyagers were sent out afterwards to gather. This method is very well-known throughout the galaxy and most threats that are capable of moving tend to hide in caves and await for the voyagers to come out, then they’d strike down the defenseless voyagers and take their bodies for food or whatever they did with them. People who became a Voyager were expected to live for three months. The really talented voyagers lived through retirement. Only three have managed that.

                ‘I’m not supposed to be here, Terrance,’ Z said to his partner as he picked up a bundle of sticks and metal. It appeared to have been already gathered by one of the now dead Voyagers before him. He constantly remained on the alert, glancing about nervously to see if whatever killed the whole fleet of Voyagers would come out and take him as well. ‘I was blamed wrongfully for a crime that never happened. Sigmund hates me, so he thinks that sending me out here to be killed will answer all his problems.’

                Terrance nodded. ‘I’m not sure how to convince the Voyager General this. He’s pretty tight with Sigmund. They’re probably up sipping tea and laughing about what they’ve done to you.’

                Z turned around abruptly and stared at Terrance directly in the eye. ‘Will you help me? I want to fake my death and scare Sigmund into admitting he set me up by coming back as a ghost.’

                His partner stared at him for a moment. The hope that Z would bust out laughing and say he was joking was apparent in his gaze, but he never said it. ‘Z,’ Terrance sent. ‘He’s a smart man. He won’t be tricked so easily…’

                Z spun around and walked off, dropping his collection of items as he did. Once he was a fair bit of distance away from Terrance, Z began looking around through the bushes and along the large mountain before him, hoping to find some sort of cave to make it appear as though he was drug off into the darkest depths, never to be seen again. After travelling almost entirely around the circumference of the mountain, he found a cave at last. He poked his head in and glanced around. Grabbed a rock an threw it in against the wall to make as much noise as possible. Once satisfied with his inspection that the cave was deserted, he began making preparations to make his death appear real.

                Several rocks were kicked over and branches were snapped. Z kicked around the dirt and used a sharp-edged rock to carve claw marks into the walls of the cave. ‘Now all that’s missing is the blood…’ he thought to himself as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his bare arm. Z gulped and put the rock up to his hand and closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Just as he inhaled and prepared to run the jagged rock across the palm of his hand, something from the darkness of the cave reached out and wrapped itself around Z’s ankles and dragged him into the cavern quickly. Leaving behind nothing but a staged fight scene, and a large, deep imprint of where Z was dragged through the dirt.