Deeper within
A short, Metroid-inspired story I wrote during the weekend. I really enjoyed writing this one, as it made me think how I would describe something like one of Samus Aran's adventures with words alone. I sincerely hope the end result is, at least, decent.
The many terrors the hunter faced only grew stronger as he ventured deep into the caverns that extended all the way to the core of that forsaken world. Direr and direr, lights fainter and fainter, darkness absolute now that the sun had been left behind (or above). He hadn't felt the touch of a blade of grass nor the soft whisper of planetary winds for weeks. Only metal, artificial air and sweat.
He was accustomed to unpleasant conditions. People who dedicate their lives to the extermination of other beings aren't particularly fond of the joys life offered to the inhabitants of the galaxy. He needn't take a moment to sit down to converse with a friend nor immerse himself in deep thought so that he could reflect on his life, on ideas or on any sort of spiritual rubbish. Life for him was standing on the edge of the fall, holding his weapons high, always willing to take the jump down the precipice should the work demand it.
Cold-hearted, yes. He had been behind many massacres, many genocides. He had wiped out entire civilizations, relentlessly murdered the last members of hostile, yet valuable, species and changed the face of the cosmos itself by obliterating worlds and space colonies. Any world he set foot on was destined to be bathed in blood, to witness its own inexorable demise.
The breaker of colours. That's how one of the peoples of a distant planet circling Mintaka named him. They saw in him an incarnation to some deity of storms, a primitive representation of heavy rainfall, violent gusts and thick and black thunderclouds, for, according to them, his appearance was like the arrival of gales to the coasts: a large shadow that paled all colours and unleashed sheer violence upon everything.
And, even though the many names his victims had for him merely mused him, he could help but to wonder, at times, if he really was something more than death.
As the hunter moved forward to the planetary underneath, one of the many sensors of his battle armour alerted him to the presence of breathable air in the proximity, an unusual phenomenon for a barren world. The only reason that came to mind was that whatever he was sent to eliminate was behind the sudden habitability of his surroundings, a petty attempt to seek refuge deep inside the carcass of a dead body.
He came across a ravine from which a bluish, intermittent glow was emanating, like the flashing of a firefly's light. It was a long fall from where he stood to the point where all that light was coming from, but he had endured harder hits and had engaged in bolder manoeuvres, all of which under circumstances where the amount of cash paid to him had been minor. Increased gravity was always a problem, but, if his eyes were not deceived, he should still be able to withstand the hit.
He peeked at the bottom one more time, then he jumped, arms fully extended and legs contracted. As he fell, his scanners indicated a massive drop in temperature, an increase in habitability and the presence of bio-signs. He curled, as if attempting to morph into a sphere so as to soften the impact, and hit the ground.
It was a lousier crash than anticipated. He had fallen on its back, the blow directly absorbed by his spine and lower back. He felt pain slithering up his back, a warm yet excruciating thing lodged on his coccyx that stretched its arms all the way to his neck, shoulders and elbows. He tried to curl, overcame by the sensorial overload, but the very injury that was piercing him -a hernia on one of his vertebral discs- did not allow such a comforting position. All he could do was to lie flat, bite his lips hard and try not to feel humiliated by the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Had it happened elsewhere, he would have been killed by now. Whether by enemy fire, hostile fauna or environmental threats. Thank the lords it had happened in the dark, where no one could have seized that juicy of an opportunity
When the flashes of pain ended and he regained control of his body, he got up. His sensor started to bombard him with information regarding the state of his armour -moderately damaged, would require maintenance-, his current health state -would need to see a traumatologist- and the surrounding atmospheric conditions -from purgatory to paradise in no time at all-. Once he cleared his view from all those alerts, he focused on what had brought him there.
Truly a magnificent organism.
A spawn. That was his first thought. Must be some sort of spawn. A product of a drifting seed or spore that had, somehow, found its way to the bleak bowels of that planet. It must have encountered the planet back when it was still in its early days, when accretion was forging the new surface and interplanetary debris was being plummeted at the newly born celestial body. That was the only possible explanation to the existence of such a gorgeous plant in the heart of that unfertile wasteland.
Such a remarkable biological structure. An enormous, bulbous, bluish, bioluminescent core from which a massive network of vines and mosses originated. The core itself beat at a regular pace and seemed to pump some sort of fluid, possibly homologous with chlorophyll, to the very last twig of the great, green mass, an immense array of vegetation that extended to even lower levels of the planet itself, deeper within the caverns. So powerful it was that its presence alone was enough to terraform the entire bottom of the ravine, countering the otherwise corrosive chemistry of the local air. A one-of-a-kind, possibly the greatest feat of botany. An example of improbable evolution, of a life form that had no other choice but to embrace magnificence in order to survive. Pure bliss.
For one second, possibly an effect of having one of his spinal discs squeezed through his vertebrae, the hunter felt overwhelmed. In awe. He couldn't recall the last time he had been in the presence of such a huge creature, one so resilient and intricate. The bluish glow, which varied in intensity in accordance to the core's heartbeat, was mesmerizing, and even though the plant system wasn't exactly pleasant to look at, it occurred to him that the vegetation possessed a very particular kind of beauty, a peculiar charm that had captivated his senses.
How marvellous it is, he must have thought. Just like he probably did whenever he contemplated other breath taking sights, like a scenery from a less hostile world, or even the planet-side view of a garden world, with an atmosphere ornamented by the swirling of clouds and a surface the colour of summer. Seldom, if not usually, there was beauty to be found all of the worlds he had descended to, even in the unlikeliest of places.
And often, if not always, he was the one responsible for the destruction of pleasant things. A breaker of colours.
The indications had been very clear. Descend into the furthest reaches of the planet and do your thing. He was no gardener nor a botanist. The ones who frequented him did so because he knew his way around slaughtering, and slaughtering was what he was going to do, even if the conscious part of his mind objected to it.
He was a professional. He didn't turn down cash. Not even for the flora extraordinaire.
He reached for his multi-purpose weapon, a small, handheld device capable of unleashing numerous types of hell, and set it to fiery mode. He tested it on the empty air. Upon contact with the trigger, an incandescent plume of flames was shot, its yellowish glow imposing its wavelength over the poor blue. The flames rose all the way to the top of the ravine, where they, in combination with the toxic and highly volatile air of that world, sparked an explosive reaction. A boom that shook the whole underground
Yes, the cannon was working. Top notch tech.
He proceeded to point at his target and, so as to distance his mind from the gruelling task, he focused on the underlying mechanics of triggered thermodynamics. It was fire as hot as it could get. A continuous blast of concentrated infrared that consumed everything on its path. Orange, yellow, red and blue asphyxiating green. Swiftly, mercilessly, they ravaged the plant, burning down its twig-like organs and drying its vines. Whatever part that was engulfed by the fire changed from green to brown, and the beautiful moss embroidery that hanged from the core's arms turned into a wicked ash shroud.
He was meticulous at destroying. Life as enduring as that greenery could probably come back from the dead should he leave a leaf intact. From the thin twigs on the ends of the vines to the thick bases that coalesced at the core and extended further down into the planet. He took them all down.
And then, only the blue ball remained. That heart, beating so rapidly, as if it was aware death was upon it, begging him not to do it, beseeching another chance, trying to break through the armour and make the compassionate self of his react.
Would you truly do this? Wipe out a benign? A last one? Someone asked, one of the he-s of his that clearly had no financial difficulties.
Fire would be the obvious choice, but the hunter didn't wish to extend the organism's suffering beyond what was necessary. Moved by those poignant beats of blue light and by the leaking chlorophyll, he chose a quicker solution. Anything that wouldn't make him watch that thing staring back at him for longer than necessary would do.
Without waiting for the gun to cool down, he switched to missile mode and launched a blast of concussive force towards the core. And while it was over in the blink of his three eyes, to him, that instant lasted an eternity.
The sound of organic parts splashing across the entire area and the feeling of fluids covering his suit, as he was bathed by green blood and bioluminescent liquid. Biodegradable debris. Ashes and fires. A screamless end. Somehow, that thought troubled him more than the shouts and yells of a standard killing
He cleared his view and turned his gaze away from the corpse, then limped his way to the stone wall whence he had come. Up the ravine now. Herniated. With half his energy reserves. All the way out of the caves. Then the tortuous surface, all the way to his ship. Then sitting down in that hard chair for hours. Then the doctor. Maybe he'd need surgery. All those years venturing into the maws of hell and leaving unscathed, only to get his first scar by the hand of a physician.
A painful stab for every metre he ascended, for every step taken. A fair price, perhaps. Low, some would say.
Though he minded not.