Forgotten
Mare Tranquillitatis , September 17, 2047
As Gwen picked herself up from the floor, she felt disoriented. She had hit the ship's wall hard, but the way her body felt was as if the had tumbled down a thousand step stairway. Something was off. Getting up was easy, too easy, especially given the way her body was aking. Before her mind managed to process the sensations, her ease of movement triggered a memory, a sensation. The memory of the taste of water like it tasted in the colony. Mars One!
No! This wasn't Mars, no, but this wasn't France either. Neither was she in orbit like before. The gravity felt solid; stable, but unfamiliar yet at the same time triggered memories of home. Gwen made a small calf-powered jump to get a feel for what she was dealing with. The about sixty centimeters she got of the ground confirmed it. But this couldn't be home. After years on Earth, she had gotten stronger, but not 'this' much! No, she couldn't be back on Mars, but where was she? This was ….
"I'm on the moon!"
As Gwen shouted out in dismay, the confused face of the New Zion agent stared at her. He was sitting there, tied up, looking quite different in a way. As Gwen looked around the room, the face of the old man was staring at her with an expression that could only be described as one of aw. Gwen looked back to the New Zion agent.
"Why are we on the moon, sir?", Gwen asked in a friendly but confident tone.
"Corporal J.W. Bridgewater. Second Regiment of the North Caribbean infantry ..."
As the New Zion agent noticed Gwen's quizzed face at his response, he halted his old school canned response.
"You really need to clean up your act, mister 'trooper', you guys haven't had an active infantry since the 2040 truce got signed.", Gwen spoke. Then as she looked over to the old man sitting next to one of the tables, tied to its base with a number of black padlocked metal cables. The old man was raising the index finger of his right hand like l little kid in class waiting for a teacher to give permission to speak.
"Yes ?"
"I'm sorry to intervene mam, but the groom and me, we have been erased, mam!"
As Gwen looked back to the New Zion agent, she saw the confusion on Corporal Bridgewater, or whatever his real name was, grow even more.
"You should give him a mirror, mam, or he won't believe. He doesn't know yet it's 2046 mam. I thought it was 1983 for a moment before I saw my old hands mam. Before the lady spoke in my mind I also didn't know it's 2046 now mam."
The old man has either lost his marbles or is trying to fool me, Gwen thought. Better focus on the New Zion agent.
"I don't care about your name or rank, Mr. Bridgewater. Tell me, why are we on the moon, sir? Oh, and just to be sure, tell me what year this is."
The New Zion agent looked at her annoyed. "I don't know what game you are trying to play, you and this silly old man, but you won't trick me into believing we are on the moon and you won't trick me into believing we are in the future either. I won't fall for your smoke and mirrors!"
"Smoke and mirrors? What year is this sir?"
"It's 2038, you know that as well as I miss. Your smoke and mirrors are not enough to convince me otherwise."
"I told you we were erased, mam", the old man spoke. "He only lost eight years. I lost more than sixty. Give him a mirror!"
Gwen started to wonder. Could the old man be right? Did the New Zion agent really believe it was 2038? Or were they coordinating their 'erasure' babble? Then she remembered his first words: 'Corporal' Bridgewater.
"Ok, 'Corporal', I saw the way you moved earlier, you have skills, 'agent' skills. Think back, if you are just a corporal like you probably were in 38, when and where did you acquire these skills?"
The expression on the New Zion agent's face changed. Either he really was missing eight years, and was just realizing he had fighting skills he didn't remember ever acquiring, or he was a truly amazing actor.
"He doesn't remember mam. He doesn't know. If we are indeed on the moon mam, only she will know, only the lady in my head will know. Only she or the young pilot."
Gwen looked at the old man. He clearly was crazy, but for now, he was her best chance at finding the answers the so desperately needed. Crazy fool talking about a lady in his head. But at least he was cooperative.
"What young pilot?"
The old man pointed at the young man laying tied up in the back of the room in what looked like an uncofortable position. He was unconscious. Or worse!
Gwen walked over to the young man laying on the floor. His chest was moving. Breathing. He was alive at least.
"Kid, kid, wake up!", Gwen shook his shoulder. Gwen was elated to see he responded to her touch. He opened his eyes and looked at her with a disoriented look in his eyes. Gwen knew she shouldn't put words in his mouth. What a pain it was to interrogate people without truth injection. But between one uncooperative agent who may or may not be missing eight years from life and a crazy old fool, she had to make sure she didn't mess this one up.
"I know this may sound like a crazy question, kid, but do you have any idea where we are and how we got here?"
The young man looked at her intensely in a way that expressed a fear like Gwen had never seen in anyone's eyes. The fear she saw almost scared her herself.
"You will not believe me when I tell you, but we are all in mortal danger miss! You need to wake her up! You need to wake up Azraella before we get slaughtered here. We are on the Moon and we need to get away from here now! Please miss, you need to wake her up!"
The boy was scared. His voice, his eyes spoke of a danger real and eminent in a way that added an urgency to his plea. She needed answers though. She needed assistance. Something about this kid made her feel she could trust him. She needed to trust someone and between this scared kid, the crazy old guy, and the New Zion agent, the kid seemed like the only choice she had.
Gwen took the keychain her granddad had left her with and started trying some of the keys with one of the padlocks that were keeping him tied up with the same type of metal cables that were holding the other two tied up.
"I know we are on the moon, kid, but if we are in danger, what are we in danger from?"
"Fenrir! He is …. He will …."
"Relax kid, what is Fenrir?"
"A giant killer robot in the shape of a wolf, miss. It and Sleipnir …. the ship, they are related and they are angry at each other! I've seen what Fenrir can do! You need to wake her up Miss. He is proud you know. Unless Azraella talks to Sleipnir and unless I can pilot us out of here, Fenrir is going to kill us all!"
"You see mam I wasn't lying!" , the old man spoke, "it's her, the lady in my head, it's Azraella. You thought I was crazy, right, mam. See I ain't crazy mam?"
Gwen remembered the ship as she saw it, before waking up on the table. A cigar-shaped aircraft with eight landing legs. Eight legs, like the eight-legged horse Sleipnir from the Scandinavian mythology she learned about in school. Fenrir, the horrific giant wolf from the same mythology. It felt as if she had landed in a madhouse. Like everyone here but she was mentally insane. Then the padlock dropped to the ground. The young man, other than the other two, was tied up with just one padlock holding three black metal cables. Did she just untie a crazy person? Gwen started to wonder if she had made a mistake untying him.
The young man started looking frantically through the room. Then hurried his way towards a grey creature lying in a cove in the wall.
"Quick lady, we need to wake her up, before it's too late!"
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Cover art by Keith Draws