THE LAST BORN

T W E N T Y N I N E

ANA

The hideous alien is dead.

Did he think I'd spare his life? Now he lost his life and his weaponry. What an idiot he was. I don't remember when I start feeling bitter about everything around me, and I can't remember if I ever not be. Just as I can influence others' feelings, it seems to me that I can also absorb their feelings.

I watch as our old ship is docking closer to our new one. I never named the ships, it was always been his thing. But this is ship number five. It's bigger and more advanced, seems like the hideous alien just has had it upgraded.

Perfect.

How many prisoners do we have left?

Another thing, we kidnaped a highly intelligent UG technician and he uploaded something in my brain, now every time I want to talk, I just have to think about it and the words will appear on selected devices. Cara has one strapped on her wrist, a small screen, which vibrates every time I sent my thoughts on her.

"Well, we have three UGs, and five bandits," Cara says looking straightforward. "Since you know, you killed the last fifteen in two days,"

Like I care.

Those people contributed to his death. They are lucky I didn't torture them.

I turn around to check the fight ring simulation. My new favorite thing they invented. Since the day Nirvana was gone, I dedicated my free time to training. For me to be able to carry my plan, I need the skill to kill.

"Don't tire yourself," I heard Cara shouting as I walk away. "We dislike your grumpy mood,"

Everything in ship number five is may more sophisticated than Nirvana. I take down my selected opponents one by one, made by the computer from a strange molecules which able to take figures of most alien races. I let out my anger and spend the next hour destroy the artificial being over and over again.

When I feel I practiced enough, I go down to the engine room and take a small door to what I know is the cell. I take a look inside and select the lucky one from all of the available fresh meat we have here. I stop in front of one of the clear wired door looking at one in particular on my left.

And he is wearing the uniform of UG.

Look who is going to die today?

The glowing green skin alien looks up from his cell and frowned, even more so when I open the cell door, letting him to walk out. He dashes out of his prison in no time and starts running out for his life.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Useless being.

I follow him unhurriedly as he madly runs forward. I follow him as he sprinted to the hall, opening every door until finally, finally, he found the control room.

I watch as he clicks every button in panic with his three-finger hands, making so much noise he doesn't realize when I lock the door with the soft click. This has become too easy. They have become too predictable.

After more than half a year I finally get the hang of controlling my feeling. Not that I can stop hating the UG, but at least I can keep them inside me to not harm anyone else. I always picture myself in a room full of fog. Like the bathroom after a long, hot shower. I picture the fog as my feeling, the room as my body, and myself as my common sense. When I want to keep people from feeling my feelings, I imagine myself closing the bathroom, keeping all the fog inside, and when I want people to suffer from my feeling, I let the door ajar.

So far it works.

But I need to practice to perfect it. And right now, I have the perfect target.

The green alien is trying to contact his base for sure, some tried, some succeed, but nobody ever comes to rescue them. I guess after they took him they don't care about other petty things.

They don't care about this alien here. Might as well kill him.

I start with gathering all the negative emotions I have been feeling this past year. All the pain, the hatred, and focus on the alien. I can tell exactly when he starts feeling unlike himself. His body goes rigid, he falls on his knees, he starts screaming, wailing like a man on fire. I watch as he starts banging his head on the floor, it won't be long until he lost his consciousness.

3

2

1

And now, the easy part.

I reach my back and pull my trustworthy weapon; The whip.

I wave my hand and the laser rope immediately appears. With one flick of my wrist, his head is no longer connected to his body.

One less person to kill.

***

ANA

"Hey,"

I stop tending the garden as soon as I heard her voice.

"I know you're busy, but... Do you think we can talk for a bit?"

I look down at the greens in front of me. I'm currently kneeling on the ground with my hands dirty from the soil. This is my safe place, the closest thing I get to feel... alright.

I hear her footsteps getting closer and closer before she sits next to me. Jackie looks down at the plant I was watering and stays quiet for a moment. Being close to her hurts me, very much. Jackie brings a lot of memories with her, even the good ones are my nightmare these days, haunting me with the happiness I felt before my life turned into a living hell.

I miss him.

"I miss you, you know," She says finally, pressing her thumb on the soft dirt. "We all do," She adds. "I... I'm here mainly to let you know that... we're thankful for the comfort you gave us, I mean... look at this ship," She looks up and sighs.

The latest ship I got for us is truly something else, although it's not like the ship Dom built, it's much better than Nirvana was.

And yet, I'd do anything, and everything if I could turn back time to when we were in Nirvana.

"We have water running, running, and the kitchen! It's so sophisticated, and high-tech, we only need half of our kitchen staff now and thank God their supplies are full stock," Jackie keeps on talking.

"The main suite is empty if you want to take that, everyone got their rooms already,"

No thanks. I tell her.

Jackie swallows hard and I pray, for whatever above us, that she won't say what I know she's about to say.

"He'd be so proud of you, you know."

The foggy room inside me is completely open. The walls suddenly disappear and I have no control over my own emotion. I can tell it affects her too because she starts crying.

"He'd... he'd be s—so proud," She covers her face with her hands and starts wailing. "I—I know... th—that you lo—loved him... we—we all d—do!"

Please... stop.

"B—But N—Noir... he—he is—"

NO! I feel my mind screaming. The pain turns into anger and I will myself, as best as I can to patch the walls back, close the room, to keep my emotions inside.

There is no proof that he is dead. I tell her.

I can feel her eyes on me, I can feel her pain, and her frustration.

"The ship blew up to million pieces," She whispers. "There was no trace of Nirvana after the explosion, how do you expect there could be anything for us to identify his body?"

I stand up abruptly and walk away.

Hope.

I don't expect, I want to tell her. I'm hoping.