The Wall

[SpiritOfWrath he/him]

Hey y’all!

a while back I tried a bit of self publishing

and did not vet the platform I used

so I took it down after a bit cuz I rly didn’t like the platform—among other things, it was impossible for the writing to be “discovered” on that platform unless I personally gave someone the link

 

but!

I decided just now to post the stuff I had put down here

here it is

Spoiler

WITNESS OUR UNDOING

2391.P.S / DESSAR

OUTER MARS ORBIT

 

Dessar adjusted the portrait on his dash, smiling faintly as he considered it. It showed a child, laughing at the camera and posing playfully. It had been some time since he had seen his son, and the picture was all he had left. It had been in his pocket during the accident.

His son had been so excited, and just so proud, to explore the stars. They were the first to travel past Saturn, at that time. Their navigation, the systems he had developed, were supposed to be infallible. They were infallible, in all unmanned flights.

But dwelling on the past… It only brought pain. He had learned that, and he wouldn’t soon forget it.

His spacecraft drifted towards the Dome at Dessar’s command. Mars, encompassed by the Dome, shone a pearlescent white. The light, bright even through the protection offered by his craft, was a reflection of the sun.

Dessar was astounded, when he first saw the Dome. It was the type of blunt solution available only to a society of abundance. The sheer material cost was unfathomable, even with C.O.R. seeds. This was to say nothing of the production required.

He was pulled away from his recollection by a sharp beeping. A warning, from a small device hooked up to his navigation. An automated voice–his voice–activated, loud in the solitary cabin. “Warning. Radial decay of safe zones detected. Action required.”

He sighed, and powered the device off. “Yeah, I know. Working on that.”

His navigation locked the craft into a stable, though decaying, orbit, and Dessar slumped back in his seat while he drifted closer and closer to the Dome.

The flat plane of the Dome filled his vision as the craft touched down. It was set aside for S.U.N. personnel, and while it had been some time since he had caught the public eye, he was still a government engineer. He represented the best of C.O.R. engineers. The same minds that, to his dismay, came up with the acronyms that he had missed in his time of intermission.

Dessar unstrapped from his seat, standing stiffly and approaching the pad on the door to his left. He typed his password to release cabin pressure, and pushed the door open. A small path, marked by darker dots along the platform, led Dessar to the Dome’s entry point. He found the small lever tucked beneath the hatch, pulling it and waiting.

A voice buzzed from a small speaker in his suit. “Authentication, please?”

Sighing, Dessar supplied his code. “Can’t you recognize my voice, Sola?”

“That can be faked. I know that you know that, Dessar.” A pause. “Alright, Dessar, you’re in. Why are you even here? Don’t they need you over at Venus?”

His gloved hand wrapped over the hatch, and he heaved it open. “Thanks.” He placed a foot on the ladder’s first rung, and hesitated. “I have my own projects, Sola. They owe me that.”

“I’d believe you if I knew why everyone was so infatuated with you.”

“It’s just my natural charm.” He grinned wryly. “Alright. I’ve got to go. Official business and all that.”

Dessar hung up, then climbed down the ladder. He popped his suit visor as he stepped into a long hallway, breathing deeply of the fresh air as he approached the elevator across the hall. The door slid open automatically, and Dessar entered his destination on the small pad to the left of the door.

There was a poster within the elevator, a caricature of a man with a predatory smile. It was captioned with large letters, bluntly denouncing smugglers as enemies of security. It brought a grim smirk to Dessar’s face.

The elevator door slid open, and Dessar stepped into his office. The room, disorganized and cluttered, had become somewhat more of a lab since he had first acquired it. This clutter was despite his specialization in software.

Today, his occasional curiosity was a blessing. It was, after all, difficult to find unsanitized hardware… especially under S.U.N.

Dessar would need it, for his goal. He gathered exposed fusion cores, as well as whatever hydrogen rods he could find. Not enough.

He clipped the hardware to his belt anyways. The experimental design should enable him in his goals, but they were risky. He would need to be careful to avoid pirates, as their weapons would easily overload the cores. 

Additionally, since the cores were not yet integrated into any models, Dessar had made makeshift connection points to hook up to any C.O.R. chamber. Hypothetically, he could attach this to even the oldest models.

Hypothetically.

But he was still low on fuel. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Dessar called storage.

“Dessar?”

“Hey, Carl. I need some hydrogen rods dropped at my office as soon as possible. I’ve got a project I’m looking over now.
“Alright. How much will you be needing?”

Dessar eyed the fusion cores. “I need ten units.”

Carl laughed. “Dessar, are you going to be coming back to us?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Carl. I just want to make sure that I don’t run out.”

“What sort of project are you working on? Don’t you specialize in navigation?”

Dessar nodded. “Yeah. I noticed instability in the navigation during the orbit of larger bodies. I think some of my rounding is off, so I’ll be heading to the Sun in order to pinpoint the exact issue.”

“I see. You’re fueling the heatsinks, then?”
“Uh-huh.” Dessar secured the fusion cores again, bundling them together with a cord before replacing them on his waist.

“You’ll have them, then.”

Dessar thanked him, and replaced his phone.

The hydrogen came quickly, through a small cute set up at the back of his office. With lack of carrying space, Dessar placed the rods he could directly within the cores and hauled them to the elevator, returning to the ladder leading to his craft. He pulled down his suit's visor, returning pressure to the air he breathed. Awkwardly, Dessar pulled himself up the ladder. 

The hatch, heavy and frosted shut, resisted opening. Dessar slammed a frustrated fist against the lever that released it, a loud crack sounding as his hand landed. With another strike, the lever groaned into motion, and the hatch released. Dessar pulled himself from the tunnel, then retraced the path to his spacecraft.

It was a sleek craft, dark against the bright metal of the Dome. C.O.R. thrusters, providing easy combustion and fuel, hung light on the sides of the craft. Slender blades rested above the hull, at angles balanced against each other. A small door, just large enough to accommodate Dessar and his haul, lead to the main cabin, with a keypad and physical lock sealing and pressuring the chamber. 

He entered his code, then retrieved his key from a pocket, pushing the fusion cores into the craft and hiking up the step to the control. He took a seat, but placed a hand below the panel, rebooting the navigation system and launching it into a separate instance. Untested, and a well-kept secret.

The official navigation, he knew, was insufficient to find what he wanted. It was designed to lock onto planetary masses, larger orbits. But where he wanted to go was not a planet. It was not even a moon.

Dessar needed to find a ghost.

 

 

Dessar released the navigation, arriving in lower orbit and frowning at the object in front of him. He hadn’t yet implemented short range sensors in his navigation… and the vehicle was not registered with S.U.N. regulation. His regulation.

The craft in front of him was a smuggler, undoubtedly. The smugglers had been raiding the Shell after the planet was abandoned, eventually setting up an organized ring on the crumbling mass.

S.U.N. kept a close eye on the smugglers, but their deal meant that the vehicles weren’t registered. And so, this vehicle was invisible to Dessar.

He attempted a radio sync.

“Hello?”

Static came from the speakers, which was quickly interrupted by a short, high tone. A voice continued from these speakers. “Who are you, and what are you doing near Shell orbit?”

Dessar frowned. “Just passing through. What… what is Shell orbit?” Hopefully he could feign being a lower-level employee for S.U.N.

There wasn’t a reply for some time. “I need to know who you are, and where you’re going. You shouldn’t be able to come here.”

A hesitation. “I am Dessar.”

“Your house?”

“Sorry. Houseless.”

“You’re from Mars, then. Where are you heading?”

“I’m on my way to Venus. You know the new initiative?”

“Yeah, I do. All right, Dessar. Tell you what. I don’t want to mess with S.U.N., and S.U.N. doesn’t want me messing with you. So you can go for now. But I don’t want to see you again. Do you understand me?”

Dessar swallowed, but nodded to himself. The smugglers had a line of weapons originating directly from Earth’s C.O.R. Lances. Not something he wanted to mess with right now. “I understand, sir.”

“All right.” The radio beeped again, and the connection was lost.

The smuggler accelerated, and soon vanished from his sight.

  Dessar released the breath he had been holding, activating the navigation. The Shell loomed before him.

The Shell.

Earth.

Abandoned, desolate, hollow. It stretched across his vision, masses of stone held together by some unknown force. Growths of a dark substance stretched across the edges, and gigantic chasms snaked across the surface. The sections of stone were only loosely in position; the gaps between them ranged drastically in size. Smoke permeated the chasms, and even from afar, Dessar was nauseated by the strange radiation given off by the desolate planet.

The nausea would only worsen. As far as he could tell, the radiation didn’t have any adverse side effects. There were settlers, after all.

It just felt wrong.

Dessar adjusted the craft’s trajectory, jerking towards the surface as he attempted to begin his landing. Though the Shell had an orbit, he would not be able to use his systems to automate the landing. For the Shell, it would be much more difficult than that.

His spacecraft accelerated towards the surface of the Earth, moving jerkily towards the rock as Dessar continually adjusted the heading.

The nausea built. Dessar struggled to maintain a steady hand, but it became more and more difficult as he got closer and closer. And finally… a mistake. His hand, just slightly too far forwards, flinched backwards as the craft dipped towards a cliff. This, however, only further destabilized him, and he struggled to level his craft while his free hand flicked a switch, activating the rotating blades on either side of the craft. They were simple things, meant to replicate primitive technology and stabilize atmospheric navigation. His craft began to shake as they whirred to life, only adding to his nausea.

The blades helped, but they were insufficient. Worse, he made another mistake in his heading, a spasm interrupting his concentration. Dessar began to spiral through the air, the ground growing nearer and nearer. Emergency measures kicked in, and a few large parachutes ejected from the back, slowing his approach.

It wasn’t enough.

Dessar slammed into the ground, and his head struck the dash, shattering his visor. He groaned, vision reduced to a few blurs of light. His suit had taken the brunt of the impact, but he felt blood run down his face from within the visor.

He smelled burning.

Groaning, blinking blearily as he tried–and failed–to move. Puke rose in his throat, and it was all he could do to turn, letting the puke slip to his side. He knew, vaguely, that he would choke, otherwise.

His eyes closed, and Dessar lost consciousness.

 

 

A hand shook his side. Dessar coughed, blinked, and turned over, but did not respond.

Another shake, but he still did not respond.

The hand turned to a sharp jab, and Dessar cursed as his senses returned to him. He sat up quickly, and took in his surroundings. Cold air filled his lungs, and he gave an involuntary shiver. His broken visor was no longer present.

He was within a makeshift shelter, a cradle of cement that surrounded him. Nearby, a woman in heavy wraps snorted, then looked down, fiddling with various medical supplies. “You’re lucky that a cut cheek was all you got, in that crash. Come on. We need to get you to an actual shelter, before the storm comes.”

Dessar blinked, and frowned at the woman. “No, no. I need to get back to my ship. There are things I need in the wreck.”

She furled her brow, placing a hand to her forehead. “Dessar. That is your name, isn’t it?”

He nodded, but was unsure how she knew.

“It was on your suit, genius. Dessar, we can’t get caught in the storm. It’s dangerous even to travel before the storm, because scavengers love to capture stragglers trying to get to the city.”

“...alright. Alright. What, then, is your name?”

The woman laughed. “I’m Xishi. If you’re going to ask, no, it isn’t my given name. I just like the way it sounds.”

“Xishi. I need to get back to my ship. I… I left something there. And there are things that could help us. Important things.”

“Dessar, I’d be surprised if raiders hadn’t already taken it. I got there quickly, but it’s been some time since the crash.”

His shoulders slumped, and Dessar placed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Xishi. I’ll go with you. Thanks for finding me.”

She nodded, then stood from her crouch. “You’ll need to do away with your suit. It’s a target, especially in this territory.”

“It’s my only warmth!” The objection was swift.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You’ll freeze without it, and we can’t afford to start a fire. But we also can’t afford you entering the city like that.”

Dessar frowned. “So… what?”

“Stay here for now.” Xishi retrieved a slender pole from the corner of the shelter, holding it as a staff. She turned, and exited the small room.

Dessar frowned. He did not trust Xishi, and did not trust her kindness. But he did not know the lay of the land. She did.

From what she told him, he knew that there were raiders. He knew that they would need to move before the storm arrived. He also knew that his suit was a target. Xishi did not need to tell him that. Finally, he knew that the moment his craft had crashed, every scavenger in sight would have bee-lined towards the wreck.

Dessar found it difficult to believe that Xishi was not a scavenger. Even that wasn’t important. Scavengers could find them regardless of whether Xishi colluded with the scavengers. If so, he would need a weapon. Some way to defend himself.

He studied the small room, finding a small metal beam curved and snapped at a wicked angle. He gripped it tightly before reluctantly slipping it into one of his pockets.

It was some time before Xishi returned. “One of my stashes was nearby, thankfully.”

She held a second set of heavy cloths, which she deposited at his feet. “Get ready. There’s a pack in there for you to put anything you need.”

The last sentence had a strange emphasis, as if she were trying to tell him something.

Xishi turned, and exited the room.

Dessar removed his suit, donning the dull brown garb. The cloak enveloped his frame, and a hood pulled over his head. A second cloth clipped over his face to cover his mouth. Under the cloak, which felt almost akin to a cape, a belt stretched across a final layer of lighter material. It secured a set of small pouches to his waist. Finally, the backpack she had given him strapped over the cloak, hanging lightly off his left shoulder.

The outfit took some time to assemble, but he was glad for it. He had landed in what had been northern Siberia, a base for many Earthen operations as population pushed society to the ends of the Earth. He had visited the base a few times before his accident.

As such, the regional cold was very serious.

Dessar looked back to his suit. He pulled the bent rod from its pockets, then hesitated. Quickly, he stuck the pole into the fabric, tearing away cloth and pulling out a few sheets of the metallic mesh within. He also pulled the module in the center, with the fusion core and C.O.R. chamber.

Dessar exited the shelter, emerging into a desolate landscape. Xishi, who had been waiting, nodded. “This way.”

They trudged through the rubble, and Dessar kept a safe distance behind Xishi, which she clearly registered. The area was definitely different from what he remembered, even past the desolation. They seemed to be travelling through an urban center, which extended for miles. Even with population growth, the region that Dessar remembered was only sparsely populated, with military bases spread through the cold.

After some time, Xishi stopped, turning to Dessar as he caught up to her. A massive chasm split the earth, and a dark grime permeated the divide. Smoke rose, and the unsettling nausea returned to Dessar as he looked over the chasm. Xishi placed a hand to the sludge, exhibiting curious reckoning of the strange material. “I never get used to it.”

She slowly pulled her hand away from the sludge as it tightened around her fingers, attempting to pull them down.

“We’ll need to camp here for the night. The city is on the other side, and we need to cross at the time of greatest visibility.”

Swallowing, Dessar looked down the chasm. “What’s down there?” A morbid curiosity filled him, and he turned to Xishi.

“Down there?” Xishi snorted. “Nothing. Or at least the smoke, or the radiation, whatever it is, is too dangerous. Someone goes down, they don’t survive it.”

“Interesting.” Dessar frowned, contemplating.

“Come on. We need to find shelter.”

They found a ruin which was somewhat still standing, and Xishi had to slam her staff against the stiff cellar door to open it. She winced at the noise, but ducked down the shaft.

It seemed to be a maintenance entrance for an intact basement floor, preserved from the cataclysmic decay. Preserved to a degree. The dark rooms made up an apartment complex, and dark moss grew throughout the building. The moss was accompanied by mold and fungus, the damp air heavy. Difficult to breathe. 

“We’re looking for food, Dessar. With luck, the scavengers haven’t picked this place clean just yet.”

He nodded, following the unsteady illumination of her flashlight. They found one room which extended back into the chasms. A burnt smell permeated the room, and smoke burst from it the moment the door opened. Dessar coughed, shutting the door quickly as nausea hit him.

The two did not find any food, instead setting camp empty handed.

They cleared a space of its clutter, and Dessar took the first watch. He sat apart from where Xishi rested as he stared down the hallway, holding the flashlight steadily. When he was sure that Xishi was fully asleep, however, he slipped the backpack from his back, retrieving the various parts he had harvested from his suit.

First, the fusion core in the center. It pumped a control flow of hydrogen into the accelerator, and would theoretically slow the rate of fluid flow if provided. He could tamper there to rig it to an alternate fluid…

The fusion core had two hydrogen intakes, to allow more space efficient, and balanced, distribution of resources across the back of whoever dons the suit. It had one main electrical output, connected to the compression chamber.

Dessar detached the hydrogen rods, ensuring a lack of electrical flow. He pulled the small rod from his pocket, using it to pry open the output. With a small amount of pressure, the wires severed. He had some ten inches of wire left from the core. Dessar stripped their rubber covering, then retrieved the metallic mesh from his backpack. This wrapped around the exposed wires, connecting the flows.

He dug the pole at the right side of the reactor, separating the second fuel intake from the main body and severing the tube connecting them. He placed the mesh from the exposed wires to the tube, then wrapped the severed wiring around it to keep it in place.

The result was clunky, but it would help defend him if he found some usable fuel. He placed it back in his backpack, casting an uneasy glance to his companion.

He didn’t see anyone else that night. Eventually, however, he nodded off. He was woken by Xishi, who was vaguely angry with him.

“Dessar, you were supposed to wake me. Fool.” Her words were sharp, apart from her usual glib tone.

“Sorry. I must have slipped off at some point.” He regarded her warily, unsure how to consider her anger.

Xishi rolled her eyes, then placed a hand in her backpack. “We’ll be crossing down here. You’ll need a mask for the smoke.” She pulled a gas mask from the pack, and handed it to him. He took it hesitantly.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t you need a-”

“I said, I’ll be fine.”

Dessar wouldn’t fight her on this. The mask slipped over his face easily, but it took him some time to fiddle with the straps before it was fully secured. Air came slowly, and it was uncomfortably stuffy. It was true that the smoke seemed to have less effect on Xishi, but the idea was unnerving. Rapid adaptation should not have been possible.

They travelled back through the basement, swiftly arriving at the chasm. The air, albeit still sickening, had drastically less of an impact. The surfaces in the room were all a black dust, akin to coal. Sludge moved near the opening, pulsing forwards off the edge and consuming its surroundings.

Dark crystals grew across the edge, jutting from the sludge and giving off traces of smoke. Xishi placed a hand on one of these, and the formation tightened. She pulled it back quickly. “Perfect. We’ll need to be fast.”

A stout looking crossbow came from her pack, its bolts seeming to function as makeshift harpoons. Dessar frowned, looking at the strange contraption.

Xishi loaded the crossbow, aiming across the massive chasm. A bolt sailed, and Dessar heard a loud ringing as it lodged into the crystal on the other side. She held onto the rope on the other side, and jammed it between the crystals on their side, which pinched it in place as they grew around it. Quickly, Xishi loaded another bolt, repeating the process.

“Come on. We need to go.” Xishi nimbly stepped across the two lines, traversing some sixty feet before arriving at the other side.

“Seriously?”

Xishi swore across the chasm. “Yes! Dessar, the rope will snap soon.”

He gave the two ropes a wary eye, placing his weight hesitantly on one. Swallowing his fear, he heaved himself forwards.

The chasm was goliath. His initial estimate of sixty feet was off, it must have been. The smoke pushed slowly into his gas mask, and it was difficult to breathe. Foot after foot on the taut lines gave him unsteady balance, and he was just barely able to keep it. 

He was halfway to the other side, and the maw of the dark chasm loomed underneath him, a darkness with substance giving him pause. The ropes supported his weight above this fear.

Until they didn’t. Dessar fell, as the left rope snapped and disappeared among the smoke. His hand shot upwards, taking a hold of the rope desperately.

Xishi cursed. “Come quickly! I’ll pull you up!”

But Dessar did not get a chance to respond. The second rope snapped, and he swung across the chasm towards the wall of crystal on the other side. He just barely pulled up his legs in front of himself as he slammed against it, the crystal digging first into his boots and second into his shoulder. Pain laced through him as what seemed a thousand cuts lacerated his arm. His blood, flowing freely, stained the wall, which shifted and grew at contact, embracing the dark liquid. Dessar braced himself with his good arm, and the crystal began to envelop it.

Xishi looked down, a worried look over his face. “Dessar! You need to get out of the smoke”

Indeed, the burning smell in the air was choking, even through his gas mask. He grunted, throwing his bleeding arm upwards and gripping the rope painfully. He pulled his other arm from the crystal growth, which shattered easily. He struggled upwards one arm at a time, even as he felt blood rush to his mouth. Even the cut on his cheek, left over from the crash, throbbed so much more. Dessar gritted his teeth, breathing heavily of the tainted air as he lifted himself.

Finally, Xishi’s hands took a hold of his, and she pulled him agonizingly up the small ledge. His body flopped over the concrete, and he came to rest.

Each breath that he took was a relief, but the stuffy air was not enough as his lungs struggled to fill themselves.

Dessar laughed weakly, stumbling and coughing as he found his feet. He leaned on a nearby wall with his good arm, cradling his other. “Sorry, Xishi. And… thank you.” The words were coarse against his throat, and they rasped through the blood that slowly filled his mouth.

Xishi regarded him critically. “There’s pieces of crystal in your arm. We need to get you away from the chasm. The city isn’t far.”

She turned, and Dessar followed, pushing through the exhaustion as they exited the smoke-filled room. Xishi found an exit, forced it open, and peeked out before climbing through.

She looked back down to Dessar, extending arms to pull him up. He took them, and collapsed into the free space.

Dessar tore his gas mask off, taking a full breath of the air as he lay there. A light caught his eye, and then another…

Xishi watched him, straightening. “We’re almost there. Come on.”

More stumbling and more coughing as he once again found his way to his feet. Dessar got a clear view of the lights, a mass of stone and concrete and metal accompanied by bright beams of light, disorganized but fortified.

Xishi pushed forward, heading towards the light.

Blood dripped from his arm, and he followed.

 

[DcD25yhtdA8 he/him]

This story reminds me of the book Honor Among Thieves, if the earth was a desolate barren wasteland.

[SpiritOfWrath he/him]

3 hours ago, DcD25yhtdA8 said:

This story reminds me of the book Honor Among Thieves, if the earth was a desolate barren wasteland.

Hhmmm

 

thankee