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Arthur

By the end of the day, my body ached for the nearest bed.

After the battle had settled, we were forced to start rebuilding the ship as best as we could. The technicians worked their fingers to the bone trying to reconfigure the ship's controls and systems, our recruits ran around the ship carrying supplies to stations that needed it, the plumbers had their work cut out for them as they tried to stop the water from getting any worse on the ship, and Zoey and I had the wonderful task of overseeing everything and aiding those who needed it. I swear I visited parts of the ship that I had no clue even existed. Unfortunately, Zoey and I had to split apart once again to tackle the massive amount of problems that plagued not only our ship but the others as well.

First, I had the honored privilege of helping the technicians re-patch the system enough so it could work somewhat. That took hours of crunching numbers, recoding firewalls, fixing data that was crucial to the fleet, and rewiring cables and wires that had either been burned or cut during the attack. I couldn't wait to get out of there when I was called to help another station. I don't know how the technicians did stuff like that on a day to day basis, but my brain hurt after the first hour of reprograming two computers. The technicians were a blast though, joking around the entire station while working their fingers off. At least while we were working, the mood wasn't grim or sad or anything. A few jokes eventually got everyone's mind off the attack and allowed room for jollity.

My next hassle was taking inventory of the ammunition rooms and storage areas, which involved more numbers. I was glad that I wasn't rewiring computers or trying to figure out what codes to use for the new firewalls, but I wasn't glad that I had one of the most boring jobs on the ship. From storage area to storage area, I had to count every gun, ammunition crate, grenade, etc., then turn in my sheet to the man in charge of the area and then move on to the next area with another sheet and count everything there as well. If that wasn't boring and frustrating enough, I had to recount everything twice so that whatever I turned in was right. Depending on my reports, those sheets would determine what we needed to send for when we could send out carrier ships. At least I had some soldiers helping me with other areas, lightening the load just enough for me to breathe.

Last but certainly not least was the luxurious responsibility of counting our fallen brethren. I'll say this: it was not luxurious. Every soldier that had fallen during the battle was placed on the flight deck of our ship while dog tags were given to me and a few others so we could send reports all around this fleet and the others about our drop in numbers and the major casualties that hindered us. Just seeing the bodies line the deck was enough to kill my mood. Many suffered dozens of bullet wounds before they died, some were missing limbs, and others...others couldn't even be described just because how bad they looked. I nearly got sick to my stomach looking at them, and it took everything I had no to bawl like a tiny child.

I stood there sometimes and watched as many of the soldiers paid their respects to their fallen brethren. Some of the soldiers were more deeply hurt than others, crying beside their loved ones and the ones they cared for. We gave all the time in the world, knowing that taking them away from those they loved would only make matters worse. There was no wall that barred the tears of the men and women that wept beside the dead corpses. They let all their emotions be shown, and I just stood there and felt tears stream down my face, knowing their pain all those years ago.

Night fell long before a soldier relieved me of my post. I patted his shoulder and sighed, groggily making my way to my room while the soldiers who still had plenty of energy worked through the night. My head pounded, my fingers felt as though they were going to fall off, and I honestly thought I could not shed another tear for a long while. As I went down to what was left of my bunker, I could still hear the weeping and mourning of the soldiers above, begging for the clock to be turned around on this terrible outcome.

Had we known about the attack, so many of the men and women might still be alive. I'd like to think that more preparation would've boosted our chances during the trying battle. But no, the Overlord was all for dirty fights. His troops were not so different from him or his ideals and it disgusted me.

When was this war finally going to end? I know I hadn't been in the Revolution for long, but I felt like it had been an eternity ever since I escaped Jupiter's compound and was rescued by Revolutionary soldiers. It may have been but six years ago, but those years felt much longer than they were supposed to feel. I wondered if this is how veterans feel after serving for more than a decade. Four or five more years and I was sure this battle would feel all but over. Wars were not an easy task to win, so they were designed to test the might, stamina, and mind of an individual for over extended periods of time.

My battle was still long from over. I wasn't through fighting just yet. I still had people on this planet that needed a saving grace--an angel sent to rid them of all their troubles. I was no deity, but I was a man who knew what the meaning of freedom was and no one was going to take that away from me. I wasn't just fighting for myself, but I was fighting for everyone who was in this Revolution and for those who were still suffering.

Though this battle was long over, I still felt as though we were fighting it through its time. I guess that was what it was like to feel defeated for once, as if all hope had been lost between everyone inside the fleet. It could've been the massive amount of casualties that got to everyone. It could've been the fact that we were almost dominated and forced into slavery again. It could've been that we all could've died because of our cause. Honestly, I didn't want to know what it could've been. I just felt so helpless that we couldn't stop them.

I continued to walk back to my bunker in deep thought, completely unaware of everything around me. Suddenly, I ran right into someone and took a few steps back, rubbing my nose from slight pain.

"Hey, watch where you're..." I almost shouted, realizing it was Zoey who I was about to chew out.

She looked stunned for a moment. "Oh, sorry, Arthur. I didn't see you there."

I let out a long sigh, rubbing my eyes. "No, no. I'm the one who should be apologizing. Sorry about running into you."

Her smile returned for a few moments. "Sure, no problem."

"So, is there anything I need to know about or do you need help with anything?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck nervously, knowing good and well that my muscles were ready to give in if I did anything too extreme.

She shook her head. "Nah. So far, I think I've done my part for the day. I'm gonna get some shut eye before I return to repairing the ship. What about you?"

"I guess I'm pretty much the same," I replied, looking to my right, finding the door to my bunker right there. "There's still a lot of work to do, and I know that we're far from done."

She nodded, sighing while folding her arms. "Yeah, feels that way sometimes, huh?"

I gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy with me, Arthur," she answered bluntly. "I know you're not just talking about the fleet. What's really on your mind?"

I looked away from her, leaning against the wall of my bunker. "Seems I can't get anything past those ears, huh? Fine. I'll tell you." I looked at her. "Sometimes, I feel like this war is never going to end, and that we're just chasing our tails waiting for some big miracle to come and put an end to things. It's like no matter what we do, no matter how many people we free, or how many times we get one over the Overlord, I feel like they always have something planned ahead of us."

"That's how villains are, Arthur," she replied. "But we are the heroes need to keep fighting to stay in the game 'cause we only get one chance."

"But you, me, and everyone in the rest of this fleet just went through the impossible!" I exclaimed. "We all know the Overlord and his followers hate the ocean, but they nearly shut us out for good by just breaking their character and going out of the lines!"

"Arthur, calm down," Zoey replied softly. "You're letting them get to your head, and that's exactly what they want to do: get inside your head and tear you down from the inside. Remember your parents?"

She shut me up before I could even protest. Anything I thought would be good in this just disappeared as if it never even existed in the first place. I never thought she'd bring that off.

I knew she wasn't just talking about my parents because they never gave into the Overlord or his forces. She was talking about the people my parents worked with. Those who gave up the will to fight because the Overlord shattered all will they had to force them to give in.

I remembered to when I was a slave on that plantation with all those other slaves. Many of them looked as though they could care less if they died while they worked tirelessly for a man who could care less if they lived or died and would just replace them in a heartbeat. I saw it happen again and again all that first year, and I remembered it was not a pretty sight. The sight of people dying off left and right during the hottest days in the summer on the field or of sickness during the cruelest winter and then being dragged away and replaced by another was the worst sight imaginable for me. Watching that over and over again was just as bad as counting as fallen friends up top, if not worse.

My parents were so different from them. Even when things looked bleak and dark, my folks never gave in to the deep darkness that surrounded us. Dad was a fight who never knew when to give up, constantly pushing himself past his natural limits just because he wanted to be strong spiritually and physically. Mom was persistent and capable, easily doing a man's job without any problem, just breaking the stereotype that women were fickle and weak. They gave me hope that I could inherit those traits one day and become just as strong and nimble as they were and fight for those that were just and honest.

Zoey had every right to bring this up.

Even as I felt myself tear up in front of her, I clenched my fist so tight that I could almost feel my stubby claws cutting into my fur and skin. All I did was look away, only shaming myself even more as I found myself trembling just at the thought of that sad memory that was forever a part of my life. Zoey knew that it was going to cut me deep, but she knew that it was for good reasons. I looked back at her just to see her nodding. She knew exactly what she was doing.

With a heavy sigh, I un-balled my fists and wiped the tears from my face. Though I had anger inside of me ready to be unleashed, it wasn't fair to take my pent up rage on her especially since she was one of my closest friends that could never do any wrong to me. We were tired, exhausted, and wiped from the entire day of fighting and repairs and what we shouldn't do is fight. In my case, I was the one who was about to stir up a fight not her.

"Sorry," I apologized, wiping the remaining tears from my eyes. "I got a little carried away."

She smiled. "Its fine, Arthur. You just need some sleep. Get some and we'll talk again in the morning, 'kay?"

I had to admit that she was right. My eyes were already feeling heavy, and I had no clue how much longer I could escape not sleeping. The day and the battle had worn me out, and we knew that it was time to rest and recuperate before anything else happened that could tax us.

With a wave goodbye, I entered my bunker and closed the door. I sighed once I saw the state of the room. The beds were messed up, many of the items that the soldiers who bunked with me laid on the ground, some even shattered to pieces because they were fragile. The light overhead flickered a few times before staying itself for me to see. I could see dust and a small puddle of water covering the floor, my eyes drifting to the ceiling only to find that there were cracks and water dripping from it.

I shook my head. There was no time to fix everything, and I wasn't going to go through personal belongings of the others here. Whatever we never talked about, I left it alone and tried to clean things up as best as possible. I left the puddle and dust alone, knowing I'd need a mop and broom for that eventually. I changed until all I wore was a set of black shorts without a shirt.

My body was almost drawn to the bed as if it had its own gravitational force pulling me in. Before I could reach it, I stepped on something that nearly cut into my foot. Without a second thought, I pulled the sheet covering the object.

It was the airplane that my parents had made for me all those years ago. The left wing had broken off, leaving wooden splinters all over the floor. After all these years, the paint was losing its bright color, soon it would completely dull out until it looked as if it belonged in a museum. Some of the paint had chipped as a result of my foolishness these past few years. I was lucky that it was still in one piece after I nearly stepped on it, leaving my heart all the more lighter.

"Looks like I'll have to fix you later, little guy," I spoke softly to myself, as if the plane itself could talk.

The room remained silent as I stood there looking at it. Another tear streamed down my face before I wiped it away and set the plane and its broken wing on the small desk beside my bunk. If there was anything I treasured more, it was the gift from my parents. After the escape from Jupiter's compound, the years of hard training, and all the missions and battles, it still managed to survive even if it was somewhat broken now. But it could be fixed. I would see to it once time permitted me.

With that, I laid on my bunk and closed my eyes and allowed the fell clutches of sleep to take me away from this reality.

???

I never thought I would end up back in this dark place.

Once again, after what felt like eternity, I was back inside this black abyss. I felt like a specter watching over the land of the living, yet I was disembodied and barely even heard myself breathe. I just levitated there surrounding by pure blackness that never seemed to have an end. Were they shadows? Was I in some sort of shadow world? Was this what nightmares were like? I hadn't had a nightmare for months, but when I did, I never came to this place.

What was I doing here now? It was bad enough I had things to worry about, but I didn't want to worry about this place either. I knew I was sleeping, but I knew that this wasn't the realm of sleep I was familiar with. This place was too dark, too shadows, too mysterious and evil. I wasn't welcome in a place like this, and I did not want to stick around and figure out what could possibly happen to me in this place. Whether this was a dream or not, I was frightened.

Before I could even figure out a means to wake myself up, I heard chuckling. The deep, bass-filled, malice tone had me shuddering. I look around and found no trace of its source. Wherever I was, clearly I wasn't alone. Someone was here, and they were watching me intently.

_Ha-ha-ha!_The voice boomed once more. This time, it sounded much closer to where I was, enough to have chills running up and down my spine. My ears followed its direction, so I turned around and faced the man who plagued me since the day I ran away.

_Jupiter!_I shouted, my voice becoming little more than a faded echo.

He stood proudly, arms folded behind his back as if he wasn't even scared of me. My anger for him boiled to the point where I rushed forward towards him, wanting to give him a piece of my mind. The closer I thought I got seemed to be the further away he went, staying the exact distance away from me from when I charged at him. He looked calm and at piece, barely even glaring at me with his menacing eyes.

The man continued to laugh. His laughter echoed all around this dark place, rattling my ears to the point where it began to make my head hurt. I stopped and cupped my ears, groaning as the intensity and volume of his intense laughter only grew louder and louder. The sound almost become too much for me to handle, forcing me to black in and out of consciousness, snapping from dreams into reality every few moments.

Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!

_ _ This voice was much different. It cut through Jupiter's intense laughter enough for me to hear. Whoever it was, they sounded familiar yet distant from where I was.

Despite the extra voice, Jupiter's never stopped. He only grew in power, directing all of it towards me, nearly throwing me back. I grunted, standing my ground as best I could, yet I could feel myself wavering. His voice eventually snaked its way into my head, tearing apart my mind quickly and painfully, never losing its power as he cut into my soul.

I shouted towards the sky from the excruciating pain. Tears formed in my eyes before I felt a blast of Jupiter's voice throw me far back, sending further and further...and further...into the black abyss.

???

I woke up to Zoey shaking me frantically back and forth.

Though I was still half asleep, I felt sweat trickle down the sides of my head, dropping onto my pillow, soon joining the sweat stain that now laid there.

My heart erratically beat against my chest. I found myself breathing very quickly, taking in sharp breaths as I clutched my chest tightly. I felt warm, but I wasn't feeling sick. Whatever it was that I was feeling, it took minutes of careful breathing and thinking before I could even talk to Zoey, knowing that she was just as worried about me as I was.

"Ready to talk?" she asked, patting my shoulder calmly.

I nodded, hugging my legs close to my chest. "Yeah, I think so." My voice sounded raspy and hard, almost as if I really was sick. Could a dream really do that much to me? It surely didn't feel like a dream to me, but I was certain I had never had a nightmare like that one before.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I...," I looked away. "I had a bad dream. That's it."

She sighed. "Arthur, I wasn't born yesterday. At least give me some details about what it was and maybe I can help you cope with it. I'm no psychiatrist, but I am your friend and I'll do the best I can."

Her eyes told me everything I needed to hear, despite that she had to tell it all to me. I knew she was one of the closest friends I had--her and Falk being the closest people I came to love--and not telling her something almost made it sound like I was hiding something from her that she ought to know. She was good when it came to talking and keeping secrets, so we both knew whatever I said here would not turn into gossip around the ship and the fleet later. Eventually, I would have to tell Falk as well, seeing as he was just as important as Zoey.

I told her everything that happened in the dream, knowing to tell her any extra details that might help her figure out what was wrong with me. She listened long and well, nodding and contemplating when I paused to let her think. Once she was done thinking, she let me go on so she could hear the full story. It took a few minutes of explaining, but I told everything I knew.

"I see..." she looked away, lost in deep thought a few moments.

"Anything that might help?" I asked.

She sighed and returned to my gaze. "Well, I'm not sure if my theory is a sound one, but I think you're starting to remember your past."

"But I already remembered my past," I replied.

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I think your past is coming back, and now you're dealing with the reality of Jupiter coming after you, finishing what he started six years ago. If he's on your mind, then both of you are going to be affected because of your memories of each other. What exactly do you remember about him?"

I sighed, never wanting to describe the man again. "He was cruel, abusive, soulless, heartless, un-thoughtful, careful, smart, ruthless, untrustworthy, terrible, cunning, deceitful--"

She shut me off. "Alright, I think I get the picture. He really wasn't a nice guy from the way you remember him."

"Pfft, 'nice' isn't a word I would every use for him," I mocked.

"Okay, so what does he know about you?" she asked.

I crossed my arms. "He knows that I gave him those scars on his face, and ever since then he's been trying to find me and fulfill what was supposed to be done the day after I did that. He still wants to kill me, I know that much. He hates my guts, despises my loyalty with the Revolution, and loathes my family for some odd reason."

I saw her nod. "Seems neither of you have fond memories of each other. My guess is that what happened from when you two last met never healed, and you're not going to get closure while he's around."

"So I need to kill him?" I raised my brow. I was all for killing the man who murdered my parents, but I found so many flaws in that plan that my head slowly began to hurt again.

"I wouldn't really say you need to kill him," she replied. "Put him out of commission. Make him less of a threat." Once she realized what she had said, we both shook heads in unison. Make Jupiter less of a threat? He was already on Damien's hit list for the most dangerous people on this planet, so we couldn't just scratch him off just because I was having pitiful nightmares that revolved around my childhood. He was way too dangerous to begin with. There was no possibility that he could be made into a lesser threat to us or to the Revolution since I knew he was capable of many things. He'd find a way to stir the pot, all in the wrong ways.

"That's out of the question," I stated. "I think my best bet is to put an end to the guy if we ever get the chance. That's the only way he'll be less of a threat--only if he's completely gone. And that's the only way I'll have pleasant dreams again."

Before she could debate about that, Damien walked into the room. He stood tall and proud, but we could tell that he was a little out of breath. Did he run all the way here or was he calling for us to report in?

"Arthur, Zoey!" he urged, beckoning us with his hand. "You must come at once!"

"What's the problem, Damien?" Zoey asked, standing up.

He looked at us both. "It's Falk--he's back!"