Preview to the End
Simon knew something was wrong from the moment Captain Ava of the C. O. I. walked into his holding cell.
"Butcher," She snarled, walking a bit closer, her features obscured by the dim light source behind her, "We have a mission for you."
What? Simon tilted his head like a pup hearing a strange noise. His confusion was palpable. Prisoners of the C. O. I. were never put on expeditions, as far as he knew... and he'd been here since he was young, a prisoner from Eden. God, how he missed Eden.
"An expedition?" he asked, still not approaching Captain Ava. She was a fierce presence, often coming to the holding area to mock and inspect the "convicts". Her face was moon-white, with an even paler scar running down it. He wondered briefly how she got such an injury. Surely it wasn't in the Filament Accident?-
His thoughts were cut off as the cage door swung open.
"Yes," Ava said, patience visibly wearing thin, "You're going to be the helmsman of the SM-13."
Simon was even more confused. Sm-13? What the fuck was that? His head tilted more, slowly standing up from his seat on the dirty metal ground.
"What do I get out of it?" he asked.
He knew he wasn't going to get much, being "The Butcher", but he could at least try. A mat for the floor or even a nice one-time meal would suffice...but maybe-
Again, Ava cut him off. "How about your freedom?"
Freedom? His heart rate quickened even more. He couldn't fathom having his freedom back. He just knew that it wasn't feasible to ask for his freedom, yet here Ava was, offering it to him on a golden promise.
" F-freedom?" He stuttered out, feeling as though he was about to have a brain aneurysm with how excited he was getting.
With that, Ava's patience snapped.
"We don't have time for this. Follow me or be executed." She turned on her heel, her gaggle of men that had followed her shifting quickly out of her way. Were they always standing behind her?
They all turned to glare at Simon as he slowly, stiffly made his way out of the cell. He hadn't been out of it in years, hell, at least a decade at this point.
He numbly followed Ava, feeling anxiety settle deep into his bones.
This hadn't happened before...nobody in the holding area was authorized to leave, ever. Even when they were executed, they were killed gruesomely in the cell, only able to leave it after being dead. If they weren't killed, they died by starvation. Either way, though, they left in a body bag.
Ava led Simon through a dark, metal hallway lined with cages to a door at the very end. She scanned her badge, which was primitive considering the time, but since the Great Rapture, all the remaining humans had were scraps and prayers.
The metal door unlocked with an audible click. Behind it was a set of stairs. Of course, they were also made of metal and eventually covered with red rust.
They began their ascent, the walls feeling closer than Simon's liking. He was working up the courage to ask Ava about his supposed "mission". His anxiety was getting the better of him, though, as his tongue was stuck like a stone in his mouth.
He began picking at his shabby long sleeve, eyes darting around him. The soldiers' footsteps behind him, along with Ava's demeanor, did not help.
Just as he opened his mouth, they reached the top, which was yet another metal door. Again, Ava scanned her badge, allowing the seemingly first-ever Convict into the C. O. I. operating station.
Simon had to squint against the bright light. His eyes adjusted fairly quickly, and he began his usual scan. There were people scattered, doing their various jobs, and above them were windows of the jet black darkness of Space. He never thought he'd see that again.
They continued through the immense station, Ava quickening the pace once they were in another stairwell, this one leading them slightly down.
Another badge scan revealed a stark room with a haphazard-looking craft in the middle, sitting atop a trap door. It was hooked and roped to the ceiling, a singular porthole looking forward. There was some lens contraption welded onto the front that Simon wondered the use of.
A rickety-looking ladder was bolted to the floor next to the craft, leading up to the top of it.
There were two men and another woman in the room off to the left, hunched over a table of controls and plans, talking amongst themselves.
"I have the Convict that will be manning the Sm-13," Ava declared, stopping a few feet away from the craft and the folks who Simon figured were the operators of the SM-13.
They turned, giving Simon barely a glance. They nodded and began preparing the descent.
Simon was ushered onto the ladder, dropping down into the submarine. A metal slab was placed over the hole he dropped into, and sparks began coming from it. He was being welded in, he realized with slight horror.
He glanced around the tight space and went to sit in the chair in front of the controls with the porthole like a giant eye looking over him.
For the first time in a long time, Simon prayed.
The speaker on the side of the dingy sub made a crackling sound, Ava's raspy voice sounding out a moment later.
"Beginning the descent."
