Colony 999

If there was one thing Colony Negative taught me, one hypothesis answered, it would be the truth about human limits of pain, suffering, and terror.

There are none.

“…We will continue to update Colony 501 on any and all updates during this moment of crisis. I understand we all want answers right now, Milithreat is responding to investigate for those answers. We urgently ask: why would the renowned Doctor Deveraux do this? And where the hell is she right now?”

Why would I do this? Why would I fucking do this!?

I suppose despite all the nightmares beginning to come back, goosebumps on my skin forming that false protective shell against my skin, and the throbbing of my racing heart, I did have a reason to do this. Yet I should be clear right now to everyone:

I did not do this.

I did not do this!

Why would I wish this nightmare on anyone else? Why would I wish to relive the horrifying anathemic mutation process and enforce that on the rest of this Colony, my own home? To observe the beauty of life overtaken by some minuscule enzyme, hear the cracking of bones as they broke…to hear those deep growling noises they made, human screams turning into animals. Nothing was worth that. I fought through hell and back to get out of Colony Negative. I had no intention of instilling that horror to anyone.

I wouldn’t wish this on my own worst enemy! Oh, but they would wish it for me. These Sabbaticals prayed day and night for this wish to come true, praying to a false god, a false god created from my own very mind. Prayer without planning, however, is nothing but begging. Sabbaticals didn’t beg, not usually, despite Alala being the rare exception when Damien’s blade was pressed to her throat.

Yet, I had every reason to do this, didn’t I? Scientific Bureau for Humanity, those fucking pricks. Science bought out from rich investors who refused me to publish the findings of a cancer-eating gene because it would ruin the medical industry. SBH, who graciously marketed this Colony Negative expedition particularly for me, making me lead scientist, offering thousands of credits I cared less for, and a chance for adventure.

Colony 501 almost deserved this. Almost. It was a Colony and main Citadel city that rebuked change. It was stagnant and avoidant. Economy was booming, never better, yet I could still walk these streets and still see improvement, still see a struggle that needed to be fixed. It was in the minds, this lacking sense of community. That’s what Project Lifeline was meant to do! Instead, this Colony would believe I restored to this and a shitty manifesto written by own mother to instill change.

“Oh god. OH GOD! One of the bodies…it’s alive! It’s…oh fuck-”

The screen shut off fading to black, seeing nothing but my own fearful expression in the reflection. My heart pounded at the panic of some poor news anchor, knowing the fear was probably even greater within that spaceport. The vertical scars along my lower face in this dark reflection were like tears: permanent stains cementing the end of my legacy.

Damien had been the one to turn the screen off, tossing the remote aside before his warm, calloused hand gently rubbed my shoulder. It was a motion he’d usually do in the rare mornings he woke before me, just a loving, caring way to get me to wake up. And I needed to wake up right now, wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Jack, hey, you need to get dressed,” he whispered softly, nudging me before going back to his conversation with Grimes, his entire tone changed.

I hadn’t heard that tone from him in quite some time, if not years. He was back to his Milithreat Counterintelligence Agent voice - demanding, harsh, sturdy and absolutely frightening. He, himself, was not frightening. No. He couldn’t be to me anymore. The voice was frightening with how quickly he transitioned into it, as if programmed in moments of crisis to flip that switch inside him. It was second nature to him.

It was also frightening because I had wished for him to never have to possess this persona ever again.

Yet, he had still been gentle with his words towards me, enough to really force me away from my daze. I still didn’t know what to focus on as I grabbed the closest clothes I could find from my still unpacked luggage. I couldn’t even enjoy a moment, could I? A full twenty-four hours returning from a scientific venture to enjoy my husband and relax?

No. I was not entitled to anything. I never could be. All my life had been sacrifice with a sliver of happiness, only for this cycle to repeat over and over. One day I would get sick of it. That was a day Sabbath was counting on.

But that revelation began to make more sense as I hunted the closet for boots, remembering the news briefing and my own decisions last night. My travel back to Colony 501 was completely spontaneous. I was supposed to return this morning, at that exact spaceport, on that exact ship, with all the rest of my supplies. Nobody, not even from my own team knew I had made the exact decision to hop aboard a fueling ship destined to stop in Colony 501 for a refuel. I hadn’t even been on the flight-logs, per their words not mine.

That meant we had the element of surprise.

Well, not as surprising as this wake-up call was. Yet this was a scene they wanted me to be at, a manufactured work of art in terms of Sabbath’s devious manipulations. I wasn’t there where they intended me to be, which bought me some time. Very little time for that matter.

As Damien paced all across the penthouse, packing a bag with one hand and the other throwing items all across into secure closets or storage rooms, I reached for my own datapad. Grimes had been trying to call Damien all morning. No doubt a few other people had been trying to contact him given his wife’s name, face, and acts of terrorism were plastered all across the morning news. Surely Deveraux Industry employees or even concerned friends for my well-being reached out.

No. There were no status updates on my datapad. No communications. A few unread emails from last night which was mostly the daily updates of labwork…but nothing from my people, my employees, my ‘friends’.

Maybe they were scared. Right? Maybe they felt as though if they reached out of concern that investigating agencies would be right at their door asking questions. But their names would already be on a list, having a paycheck from myself, working alongside by me almost every day.

I could feel that pit in my stomach sink deeper. My despair was some acidic heat melting away sheets of metal, never once burning out, never once looking like it would stop. I would just eat and erode away at everything around me. I had nothing, nothing! I lost my career, every paper I’ve ever bled writing and researching nothing more than stained by my name beneath the title. Nobody would read my work, read the truth. I had lost everything.

“Let me call you back,” Damien insisted, stepping away from my research supplies to finish packing and approaching me. It was in that moment I could hear my own breathing through my mask, and by breathing, absolute hyperventilating. The same panic when I discovered Colony Negative’s enzyme directly related to mine…the same panic I couldn’t run away from, the weight of scientific discovery - no - responsibility was choking me.

“Hey, hey baby,” he whispered, that tone once again completely changing as he cupped my face. His hands were blazing, warm and inviting despite feeling his own anxious heartbeat throbbing violently across his palm.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly, “keep your eyes on me.”

I wanted so hard to resist him. I could feel it now, the noose around my neck tightening. I was so afraid that rope would latch on to him as well, in fact I knew it would. Just as my career was over, so was his. Project Lifeline was going to be on it’s deathbed, Damien in custody for fuck-knows-what. I knew they’d just see him as my accomplice, no matter what I said.

Yet, he wasn’t worried about that right now.

“There you go,” he encouraged, “Remember that little freckle around my nose, the one that reminds you of a star?”

I focused on that minuscule body mark, feeling my heartbeat slowly begin to merge with his. Even he took deep breaths, those broad shoulders of his rising and falling, his thumb gently rubbing my jaw in a soothing motion. My mind un-blurred, vision focused, feet grounded as I felt myself coming back to reality.

And reality was fucking terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, a tear escaping one eye.

The shake of his head so fervently and quickly in response almost made me want to cry harder.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jack. Not now, not ever,” he assured me, “I know it is a lot right now. I don’t have any answers for you, nor will I bombard you with any questions. Whatever happens, we will get through this. I promise.”

I knew he meant it. I knew this man would die for me, just as I would die for him. Even from the first weeks we met each other, at each other’s throats nearly wanting to rip each other’s vocal chords out, he protected me. Even if it was his job at the time I knew he took it far more seriously than he needed to. Even when all that time passed and everyone thought me dead, he refused to believe so and came to save me.

Sweet of him to think he could save me again…because I knew it wasn’t just me they’d try to capture, enslave, or kill. I didn’t know what they wanted with me but I knew what they would do for him. It was no secret Damien Rok would never, not now, not ever, return to Sabbath. Even if it meant saving my life. I’d fucking divorce him, kill him, then divorce him again if he dared to do such a thing. Whatever enemy was against us, they knew that too.

Which meant they’d kill him.

“You need to leave,” I looked up at him, “They know I’m not there. They’re going to come here, they might already be on their way here. You need to leave and hide somewhere safe.”

“Jacqueline, we are leaving together,” he corrected gently, wondering if my words were truly intentional or just a post-anxiety attack mistake.

“I can’t leave, Damien,” I shook his head.

“What do you mean? We must. Jack, you and I both know that there’s no way in hell someone is going to think this is a mistake. This Colony will not believe your innocence, despite it being the truth!”

He knew it without second thought, never even had to question it. He knew I didn’t do this. There was a part of me that wished he had, that there was a sliver of doubt because it meant that they couldn’t use him against me. This was not the same man that could be manipulated into hesitation. He trusted his heart and for whatever reason, his heart told him to stick with mine.

Even if I lost ‘everything’, I couldn’t fathom the thought of losing him.

“Damien, the Magistrate is going to hand this investigation over to Milithreat. Not the local enforcement, but them. They’ll know more than anyone that while I may be capable of violence of mutation means, I will never be as dangerous as you,” I explained, “I don’t know what their intentions are. But one thing I do know is that they will do everything in their power to hurt you.”

“That’s exactly what they’re doing right now,” he swallowed harshly, his voice wavering for once. Just as much as this revelation and betrayal hurt me, the complete fall in society as a scientific figure, the loss of these past two years which had been nothing but wonderful, it hurt him too. He was angry, I could see it in his eyes. That protective rage that strained those beautiful icy blue eyes were full of anguish, anguish because he knew he couldn’t unleash such rage without someone getting hurt.

We were both hurting, both confused. I knew his initial reaction would be to go into hiding, to go covert until things calmed down before rethinking our next steps. I didn’t even know if things would ever calm down. These anathemas could spread like a wildfire, divert into a thousand different directions until it covered this entire planet.

There was no cure.

Or, if there was, Sabbath figured it out somehow. Maybe it was just my already broken ego, but I had firm belief they never got their hands on a cure. Cures were formed from motivation. Sickness cannot be cured by sheer will or greed alone, but there was something magical about human perseverance to do the right thing.

“Tell me what you need of me,” Damien whispered, loyalty laden in his eyes. Whatever I asked of him, even if it could be the most absurd thing, he would obey it without second thought. How the hell did I even deserve his trust? How the hell did he even marry someone like me? I felt had done nothing to deserve such unconditional trust…even though I felt the same for him.

“We need to get in front of media, any kind, any form. Cameras, journalists, I don’t care. We need to find someone willing to let me talk. Even if I only have a minute or seconds, we need to tell the people the truth. These anthemas will be attracted to violence. I know it will be hard for them to understand, I know many won’t listen. But they need to know,” I swallowed hard, stammering slightly, “M-maybe that already stamps me guilty. But I would rather they know the truth and the real dangers of this enzyme than spare my entire existence. They need to know there is no cure, only preventative measures.”

“Okay…okay,” he nodded, staring at a blank space behind me as he brainstormed with ideas, “I think I might have an idea. I can make a few calls, lure them here. I hate to dramatize this but if it gets every news-network here, so be it.”

“I…Damien, I think you should make that call but be miles away from here before they arrive.”

His eyes snapped back to mine instantly, “Out of the question.”

Well, maybe his loyalty to obey any one of my wishes wasn’t so unconditional. Yet his words also proved that it was. His loyalty and love was just a different variation than mine. I valued his life, just as he valued mine. We just had very different ways of protecting each other, one not more powerful or successful than the other.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I sniffled, seeing those eyes of his soften before he stroked my hair gently.

“You have nothing to apologize about. We’re going to make this right, and I am going to make damn sure these fuckers apologize to you and more, you hear me?” He insisted, that militaristic tone of his coming back, “You’re the best thing that’s happened to this Colony, Jack. You’re the only person who seems to give a damn and there are people that know that. Not everyone will believe this bullshit. You’re not alone in this. You’ll never be alone.”

“I know,” I lied. I didn’t know. These people devoured lies so easily like it was artificial sweetener, poisoning their bloodstream with heavenly sensations. This lie given to them in dramatic fashion was so slothfully fashioned to be instantaneously digestible to this world.

I gave his arm a quick, reassuring squeeze, already feeling those muscles tensed in anticipation. I moved to the nearest paper I could find, writing down thoughts, key points I knew I needed to get my point across. Damien returned his call to Grimes while finishing half-packing, half-storing everything into that encrypted closet.

I told him once that sometimes his over-protection of an encrypted closet or heavily detailed standard operating procedures should this world go to hell was a bit much. We only joked about it that he was the equivalent of those old-school doomsday preppers, just waiting for the world to end to prove everyone right. Now, I was grateful for his forethought, his ability to prepare even for the worst.

I just hated being the reason. A disgraceful thought entered my mind that this would have been easier if it had been him, if his reputation had been stained, if somehow he had been blamed for this nightmare. But he never would be. He could have walked away from all of this, walked away from me…but he didn’t.

Damien argued heavily with Grimes, to the point he was raising his voice. Grimes disagreed with my plan, and maybe there was a bit of sanity to it. I was practically turning myself in, I knew that. Running away and hiding would only deny my innocence in this matter. It would make telling this truth even harder to share, more difficult to swallow for these citizens. I had to put their best interests first even if they’d never believe me.

Of course, Damien understood Grimes’ points. If I had just been a good, silent wife, surrendered to my husband then Damien would have willingly conspired with Grimes some elaborate escape out of this hell. Yet I was a shitty wife, wasn’t I? I brushed a quick tear away upon realizing it was staining my nearly legible scribbles.

Anathemas are attracted to violence. Pheromones. No, they wouldn’t know what that means.

Monsters smell violence. Act like zombies. Very dangerous. There is no cure. I studied these beings years ago, sent on an expedition not revealed to the public. There is no cure. They are quick, powerful, and almost immune to standard calibers. They can regenerate skin and limbs quickly. There is no stopping them without laser technology.

There is no cure.

The sound of movement different from this morning’s chaos pulled me away from my scribbles. It was a familiar hum, a slight vibration that used to be a very welcoming one. Whenever I sensed it in this penthouse, it was usually Damien returning home, or friends visiting. It was the elevator slowly but surely making it’s way up here.

But these were not friends.

“Babe?” I shouted across the halls. No response, probably finishing locking up that closet with anything needing to be hidden. The sound of the elevator getting closer only worsened my fear. There wasn’t enough time.

There was zero likelihood this was the media I would want, rather, a squad either meant to capture us…or neutralize us. I moved towards the kitchen counter, just at the small bar-like island in between it all to find my hand crawling towards that pistol hidden underneath.

“Damien!?” I shouted again, finally hearing rapid footsteps. He took one step into the hall and noticed the same thing I did.

“Fuck!” He rushed towards the elevator panel, looking at the configurations.

“Is there any way to stop them?”

“They bypassed the code to get up here. I might be able to jam the doors from opening but that will only hold them for so long,” he explained, “it only stalls for time. Fuck, how did they get here so fast?”

“Because they were on standby waiting for confirmation,” I whispered. They were all in on it. Probably already had some probable cause warrant or useless legal bullshit as an excuse to arrest, investigate, and take us down. Even if they assumed I’d be at the scene of the crime, they intended on taking down Damien too. He wasn’t immune from this, no matter how he had tried.

“What about the stairs?”

“If they’re in the elevator, they’ll be in the stairwell too. That door is secure, no way to breach it without explosives,” Damien wiped a quick drop of sweat before punching the small console in the wall, “That should buy us some time.”

“To do what, Damien? Time to pray? Set up a firefight? We’re fucked!” I raised my voice.

“I know!” he closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, “We have two options, Jack. One: we prepare for a fight, and once we start there is no stopping. We’d be fighting and killing until the end of our lives, until there’s a cure and maybe even until after that. There would be no turning back…”

He knew the consequences of fighting now. He had lived them with Sabbath, then with Milithreat, and all those consequences on Colony Negative. He knew violence and killing was not just a singular act. It tore at the molecules inside us, poisoned the chemicals in our brains. Just from the sound of his voice breaking, he knew that was an option they could not do unless under direct result.

“Or…” I added, not knowing his next plan.

Damien grabbed the nearest tablet he could find, approaching the living area and letting the scene set itself.

“We tell this Colony who you are. We tell them the truth,” he answered, “After that, I can’t guarantee what happens next.”

We both had assumptions of those consequences. Milithreat would take us, very likely separate us. Maybe they’d torture us, maybe treat us with respect (or the very little we now had). They’d manipulate and use us, perhaps turn us against each other. But this Colony would know the truth.

DING!

They had reached our floor, but those doors did not open. At least a good six inches of metal was between them and us. Damien’s eyes rose to mine, begging for an answer, giving me the choice. It strayed so differently from the Damien who was very much taking charge and asking for forgiveness later. He knew this was my life, my story on the line…and my choice.

He also knew that my choice affected his, such is the price of intertwined love.

“Go live,” I swallowed harshly, moving over to him.

They’d see it all. They’d see the tear stained eyes, the slightly tangled hair, disheveled clothing. The penthouse only displayed the wealth, the fall from grace, confirming their true suspicions that I was nothing more than a corporate rat just like my family. Deveraux Industries was just a proxy for brutality, a lab still destined for profit. Lies, of course, but I could not change their perception.

Damien held the datapad up, back turned to the elevator as he would occasionally glance behind. His hands shook, wishing they were gripping the coarse handle of a pistol rather than a thin and frail tablet.

“Be you, Jack,” he insisted, giving a firm nod as he was now streaming on whatever platform possible.

I swallowed beneath the mask, knowing what he meant by that. There was no time to fake being sweet, change my voice to a softer tone, or even alter the anguish in my eyes. I had to be the woman Damien always knew me to be, the one I tried so hard to fight against for the longest time thinking nobody would understand.

Now, this Colony would have to understand…or perish.

“Citizens of Colony 501, my name is Doctor Jacqueline Deveraux. Let’s skip the formalities. This is my response to the blatantly corrupt and slanderous comments made this morning after this incident. I did not do this. Those things, they’re called anathemas. They will infect anything it bites, just about anything. Some people are immune, me included. I don’t know why, I don’t know exactly how. But there’s an enzyme out there that…”

A bright light of searing red against the metal of the elevator formed, a laser sword penetrating the steel. Damien jumped at the sound, just about ready to end this stream and prepare for a fight but he continued, nodding at me to finish.

“There may be a cure,” I falsely promised, “This is an ancient disease created to establish control. Now, they’re doing it again. Don’t you see? They are trying to control you, create instability to give themselves an excuse to do so. Listen to me, my husband is innocent on this. He plays no part. I am their scapegoat…”

I swallowed hard, knowing I had to be myself, even if that meant letting that rotten ego seep through.

“I am the only one who can cure this. I am the only one close enough to understanding this. That’s why they did this, why they want you to think I am your enemy! I’m the only one who can stop this…”

The laser was producing a bigger cut, just about a few inches away from being fully drawn out. Clicks of firearm switches and brushing of armor was heard, Damien looking at me for one last assurance. We could do both options, reveal this truth and fight our way out. Fighting was all we could do…it was human nature.

But I needed these people to not do that.

“Stop that fucking broadcast!” the order was heard behind the wall.

“You can choose not to believe me today but one day you will. One day you will see that I’m right and I hope for everyone watching this, you believe me before it’s too late-”

Six armed men breached our home, weapons drawn. I raised my hands in complete surrender immediately, feeling all my adrenaline spike. My heart pounded like a machine, urging me to do the most humanely thing and that was to fight back. But this was a fight I had already lost, and no amount of bloodshed would change that.

My eyes met my husband’s, waiting for the orders, seeing him just about to surrender as well. Yet no words were spoken, no commands given. One shot went off and my eyes widened. I watched his body for a sign of trauma, or a stunning bullet to pierce his precious skin. Instead, I saw those eyes of his dilate with horror. True horror of unfathomable loss.

Soon after did the scorching pain in my side begin. Warm, wet crimson began to pool through my shirt, staining the original white canvas with red. Shock immediately hit my systems, the smell of my own iron making me sick, the sight of it making me weak.

They shot me. They fucking shot me.

I couldn’t even scream in pain. I almost accepted my fate as I could see my eyes fade from my husband towards the polished marble floors beneath me as I collapsed.

“Jack!? Jacqueline!?” Damien shrieked, absolute pain in his voice. At that, the voices were muffled around me. Damien still kept screaming, even as those bodies pinned him into the floor to be searched and cuffed.

You fucking idiot, you didn’t set to simulation…Fuck boss - this thing is still recording…tell them to cut the stream now…scrub this video…

“Jack? Baby?!” Damien’s voice was drowning in tears, “You shot my fucking wife! She was telling the truth! You’re all pathetic, useless men serving a system that will swallow you whole. YOU SHOT MY FUCKING WIFE!”

I forced my head up to look at his, seeing some sense of relief that I was alive yet the blood kept pooling. The Milithreat agent who shot me, his gun still radiating heat as he bent over me nearly burned my backside as he checked me for weapons.

I could feel it begin to succumb me, this tiredness, exhausted nature towards the end of life. I had once accepted my life was over falling over the edge of oblivion on Colony Negative, all to save the man across from me. I didn’t know what they’d do to him, if they’d imprison him for the rest of my life, if they’d…

One soldier moved above him, holding something in his gloved hands that looked like a syringe. I didn’t know what it would do, if it would kill him, sedate him, ruin him. I didn’t want them to inject one more thing in his already damaged body. He had suffered enough.

“N-no,” I pleaded, blood leaving my lips, “Stop! Don’t hurt him, please! He has nothing to do with this, please!” I didn’t know if they could hear me, even understand me as my voice and body felt so weak.

A hand gripped the back of my hair, forcing my eyes to turn away from my husband and into that bright, Colony 501 sunrise reflecting off the windows. The squelch of needle piercing skin silenced Damien, the tears pouring heavier than before. Forget the pain of my wound. Nothing was as painful as not knowing what would happen to him.

“Relish in your work, Doctor Deveraux,” the voice whispered menacingly, “You’re finished.”

Despite my body shutting down, the blood now pouring against my mask, nearly drowning me…I knew this wasn’t over. No, this wasn’t fucking finished.

This had only just begun.