fanfic_name = Ruined Salvation

chapter = VII

author = Cicero Phelps

dedicate = Jo, for discussing the nature of Protoculture with me for hours on end

Rating = AP

Type = Suspense

fanfic = Chapter VII

Rick stretched out on his bunk, arms folded behind his head, his eyes dancing on the knife’s edge between reality and surreal dreamland. His conscious mind was too tired to contemplate anything, but his subconscious started wandering back through his memories as he tried to figure out what had happened.

He thought back to the battle that led to his current situation. When they took off and flew against the Zentraedi armada, they had no idea how difficult it would be, how many people would die in that fight. In retrospect, he probably could have instructed his junior officers to stay calm, reinforce the need for strict radio discipline and trigger control. But his regrets couldn’t change the past, or bring back the lives of the men and women lost under his command that day, so he cut himself off from such useless ponderings and turned his attention towards his immediate predicament.

He remembered hitting the afterburners and rocketing towards the Zentraedi flagship, autopilot coordinates locked in on the lower left quadrant of the behemoth warship. He had braced himself against the cockpit and resigned himself to his fate, to be merely a splattered bug on the Zentraedi mothership’s neatly painted exterior. All of a sudden, he recalled a bluish-green stream of energy enveloping his cockpit and sealing him against his doom. The fighter mashed against the mothership, but Rick could see it all from the outside, in a spot in time that was only, in reality, a split second, but what had seemed to be taking place in super slow motion; like a train wreck, he remembered every crunch line, every crack in the cockpit glass, every pit and crease, as if it were happening again, right before his eyes.

He had loved that plane; after Roy’s death, it had been the greatest joy in his life. Minmei had, until recently, been a pleasant distraction at best, and he hadn’t told Lisa exactly how he felt towards her, so their relationship was at best an unresolved issue to them both. In fact, did he even know how he felt toward her, or was he deluding himself into thinking he knew all the answers?

In any event, he then saw his beloved fighter crash into the Zentraedi flagship, his body battered within, broken and thrown about, but he felt as if he witnessed it from outside his body, at a distance from the crash of about 100 yards. He looked at the glow around him, and asked, “What is happening to me?”

You’re surrounded by Protoculture, a voice whispered seductively in his head.

“Protoculture? I thought that was what Micronian culture was in relation to the Zentraedi culture.”

That’s not quite true, Rick. That’s merely the overtly physical manifestation of Protoculture. Protoculture is life, itself. It is the universe, made manifest, trying to figure itself out. Trying to figure you out, as well.

“What do you mean, figure me out?”

You are a mass of contradictions. Strong and brave one minute, you are weak, cowardly, and adolescent the next. Your feelings of love and compassion are mixed between two women, and your feelings are mixed between acting to defend those you love and wanting to not fight ever again. Tell me, Rick, now, at the end, what do you want?

“I want to live,” he said simply. “They cannot fight the Zentraedi without me, I need to be there for them.”

What are you living for? You cannot simply live because you fear death; that’s a cheat and being dishonest with yourself. And you cannot cling to life for fear of what will happen without you; that is not being honest with yourself. Answer straight, Rick. If, now, at the end of your life, you were to be granted the opportunity to continue living, what reason should you be granted it for?

Rick remained silent, unsure of what to say or do. He wanted to show Lisa how he loved her, cared for her, needed her, but didn’t know if that was a sufficient reason for the voice that questioned him. “I want to live, because there is one whom I love above all others, whom I would forsake all others for, and dedicate my life to. If I died, she would be inconsolable.”

Do you truly love her?

“Yes, I do.”

Willing to forsake all others? Do anything and everything required protecting her?

“Yes, I would.”

Would you die in her defense?

Rick coughed, his breath wheezing out of him in an instant. He had never thought about death in the specific. When it came right down to it, dying for a cause that is larger than oneself is a lot more abstract and distant than the possibility of dying for the protection of a loved one. “Yes, I would.”

Then your heart is pure and your will is strong; we will send you back to the one who loves you more than life itself. We will merge with you, watch over you along the way, and assist you should you need it. Our power is your own, and we shall see life as you live it, the way our lives and experiences will be seen in your eyes. Your body will be the vessel for the remnants of our ancient storehouses of knowledge and energy.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Sleep now, Rick Hunter, and all will be slowly revealed to you.

Rick awoke with a start, and his senses were flush with data.

The lights were still unlit, but he saw the room and all its details as if it were under the brightest sun. He was alone, but he heard voices from down the hall as if they were standing next to him. He wondered for a moment what had come over him, and then he knew the answer:

The Protoculture Matrix had bonded to him, body and soul, for whatever purposes they had intended. And he knew, somehow, in his heart, that he would do whatever it took to protect and enhance the Matrix, for it would prove to be a boon for all mankind. How he knew that, he wasn’t certain, but it was no less true, to his mind.

AN: Thanks for waiting patiently for my next chapter. Reviews are welcomed so I can speed up the writing process. lol

State = Continuará/To Be Continue

feedback = Sí/Yes

email = Lightsaber01ATHotmail.com