Age of Space

Ronin felt a creeping sensation of horror creep up his back. Would his vision return? He couldn’t see anymore; everything was simply black, and his head hurt so much it felt as if it had been split open.

I need to fix this.

He once again entered his mind palace. Hopefully the situation was still salvageable. As he looked around his internal world, large rifts and tears ravaged the landscape. Much of the outer walls both protecting and containing his memories and sense of self had crumbled. Though his mental palace was already cracked and damaged before he opened that gate, this was something else entirely. But the situation wasn’t hopeless... Over time, after having lived with a damaged mind for a while now, he’d found a way to fix it.

Beginning with the first crack nearby, he imagined himself lifting up a heavy piece of metal, then placing it within the crack. Next, he imagined himself holding a blowtorch, then welding the crack shut. Hurt as he was, the piece of metal felt heavy, and the blowtorch caused his already sore mind to radiate pain. This would take time, but he was at least making progress. Metallic plate by metallic plate, block by block, he slowly began making repairs. The strain of the work made the headache worse, but after having finally sealed the 3rd crack, he felt that the deeper kind of pain began lessening. He was straining his mind to its limit, but the worst of the injuries were improving. He walked over to the fourth crack. This was a large one, looking more like a rift, it was both longer and wider than the others as it tore through large parts of his internal world.

This is going to be a long night, he thought, then, once again began mobilizing his strength, lifting up another piece of metal. This time, he managed to tap into something new. Faint illusionary images began lighting up outside his mindscape, their shape remaining indistinct, they flickered in and out of existence as they maintained their ethereal presence.

At least I've gained something from all of this. He knew what this was, this new property added onto his mind. The Potentia Panorama called it: The Battle Soul.

“…”

The next day, Ronin opened his eyes slowly. His head still hurt. It wasn’t as bad as before, but right now, there was a greater concern. Squinting his eyes, he could make out vague outlines of shapes. As the artificial morning lights began illuminating the prison complex, the vague outlines became clearer and although reduced, he could make out his bunk, the cellmates around him and the railings outside along the gangway.

He could see. And it's not permanent, he sighed in relief.

He’d underestimated the threat from the gates in the Potentia Panorama. This was a rude wake up call, but at least it happened before he did something irreversible.

Next time I do something like that, my mind HAS to be ready.

He hadn’t even fully fixed the damage from when he obtained the artifact. To have felt confident enough to open a gate he’d had to grind away at for almost two weeks, was... foolhardy, the acts of a clown. He decided, his mind would take first priority from now on. Never again would he subject himself to something like this!

As the morning alarm once again began booming and he was lifted down to the first floor, he and his CLM cellmate terrorist quickly made their way through the heaving mass of inmates and over to the other side of the door. Ronin did have some trouble finding a mask though, on the count of his reduced vision, but with a little help from the CLM supporter, they’d found one that fit. Other inmates tended to move away when he approached, and when he approached an aisle, geared out with plenty of masks, they'd made way, something he obviously didn’t mind.

The gate opened and high-pressured acid air filled the room. “Are you sure you want to come along after we’ve handed in the carts?” Olsen Scar asked. He’d been looking at Ronin with worry ever since seeing the dried-up blood around his eyes this morning.

“My vision is slightly reduced but it should improve as we work. I’ll be fine by the time we leave. Also, is that worry I hear in your voice? Worry about ME? Heh! Can’t wait to tell Bulkster about this!”

“Hey, come on! I was just asking, Bulkster, ahem, I mean Henrik doesn’t need to know alright?”

Ronin was not going to miss this. Watching huge pieces of rock descend from the sky on a completely different planet?! He was going, No. Matter. What!

Though I do need to be actually able to see first

They worked together to speed up the process. Olsen manned the jack-hammer-like device, while half-blind Ronin felt his way towards the freshly loosened pieces of rock. Olsen fractured the rocks; Ronin placed them into the carts. It was fast, easy and efficient. It gave him time to work on his mind palace while Olsen switched positions. He struggled a lot with lifting that jack hammer, which gave Ronin plenty of time to work on himself. He honestly didn't know how strong he was anymore. He was stronger than when he'd fought in the arena, but by how much? That jack hammer had felt like nothing the first day he came here, so he couldn't use that as his measuring stick. Arm-wrestling? Nope, arm-wrestling depended a lot on technique and reach.

CRACK!

His cellmate launched another burst of pressure into the basalt, fracturing it. He temporarily shelved the question before picking up more rock fragments.

They continued working and by the time they’d filled a total of 20 minecarts, his sight, at least, was mostly back. As they began moving along a different set of tunnels, leading into an entirely different section of the mining complex, Ronin saw more and more people both ahead of him and behind him. They walked into something akin to a central tunnel, hundreds of people continued streaming in from its side passages. He could now see thousands of other inmates both behind them and in front.

“Have anyone tried to escape like this?” Ronin asked.

“In the beginning we all had to go on this pilgrimage… the prison enforced it. Maybe they thought it would help rehabilitate us or something.” The CLM man said, pointing towards one of the aged posters along the tunnel wall.

It was a poster depicting a spaceship, transporting a huge chunk of ice towards a black planet. It read: “A new life has more meaning when you see what you build. We are all valued cogs in the machine called civilization!”

“The meteors are made of ice?!” Ronin asked in surprise.

“Yeah, it's all a part of the terraforming project… They put boosters onto comets out in the Urds Cloud, then send them here. Anyways, with regards to escape, some have tried, but this prison is not without its defense systems. The escapees attempted to fly out, so they had some comrades come in on a ship, I guess you could call that a plan.” Olsen chuckled, “Too bad the ship got shot down the moment it approached the complex, so it wasn’t exactly a good plan. Well, on the bright side, we all got to watch quite the show.”

There was a break in the conversation as the tunnel rose into a short, steep incline. After they climbed up, Olsen, in between breaths, continued: “The planets moons have military installations… They’re kitted out with everything from rail guns and rockets to high powered lasers… The complex has some stuff too… If you ask me, it's pretty much impossible to escape.”

For a while they just continued walking. The long line of people in front of them, as well as behind, gave the whole event an almost religious feeling.

Ronin thought about what the CLM supporter had said… Pilgrimage… Not for a God, not for a politician… A pilgrimage for mankind itself, like, look at what we can do. Look at who we are. We birth worlds into our own image. We don’t adapt, we make worlds adapt.

The tunnel eventually widened into a large plateau on the side of the mountain. They could now see distant volcanoes spewing out hot lava and smoke in the distance. Endless lightning bolts flashed across the skies, faintly illuminating the barren landscape. As he lined up along the rest of the inmates, he could see rows upon rows of guards, clad in war suits, ready to strike the moment anybody tried to run.

He, along with the rest of the inmates, stood in quiet solemnity but didn’t have to wait long before the ash filled sky was broken and a bright streak of light struck down from above.

A meteor!

The heavenly body only became brighter and brighter until finally, in an explosion of illumination, the ash was blown away. As the clouds of ash separated, the skies opened up, and the red sun became momentarily visible. Finally, there was a sonic BOOM, announcing the death of the meteor.

“It’s times like this I’m reminded of why I joined the Concordia Liberation Movement.” Olsen said.

“If you ever get out of here, either leave Tar or join the resistance. We live in an age where the stars are at our fingertips. Cosmic marvels are out there, so grand and majestic, our ancestors could neither conceive nor imagine them… We humans have now the power to visit them, but we of Concordia can’t. All of mankind should share in this, not just the powerful… You’re different Ronin, I have a feeling there is more in store for you yet. Promise me this: If you ever get out, follow your dream, if not for yourself, do it for those of us left behind. Just share our stories if you ever make it.”

Ronin looked to the skies as more and more streaks of light began appearing. Before the following sonic booms could drown out his voice, he promised.

“Alright, I will. If I ever do get out of here, though I won't be sharing any stories in Tar. The moment I get the opportunity, I'm leaving this kingdom, you better believe that!” Then, when I'm finally free from a corrupt police force, free to make what I want, I will make the greatest spaceship ever built.