H.O.M.E. 13

by Fin

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The black gates of Void's Rest Graveyard rose tall and rusted above Franklin and James Blade as they stood on one of the many busy thoroughfares of Outer Ring City.

"This is the place," said the ret. admiral sourly, looking at the dilapitated entrance to the alien cemetery.

The father and son pair had been led here by their mysterious contact. But if the conditions of the grounds were anything to judge, the two would not find much here besides the worn down architectural remnants of several thousand half forgotten dead foriegn lifeforms.

"Shall we?" offered James with a wary smile as he slowly shoved the dark metal gate open, the huge barrier creaking on its hinges as it rotated.

Neither of The Blades had been thrilled with location offered to them to investigate. It really did not matter that the burial grounds were of beasts quite unhuman, it was obvious to them both that whatever secrets lay undiscovered here at Void's Rest, they should perhaps remain that way for the better of all.

What they sought was now the information of the dead. The lore of the no longer living. To reveal what these lost soul's now hid could surely only serve to continue the suffering of those cursed to live in their shadow. But like so many determined beings before them, history and time would not dissuade these men from their quest. If such efforts assisted in the search for their lost family member, Franklin and James would desecrate each and every one of these alien burials, ununearthing all that the past had so conveniently skirted away under a thin layer dust and ash, if that is truly what it took to find Sam.

Though the father and son sincerely hoped it would not have to come to that.

And not just because the prospect of uncovering the decaying corpse of some hideous tentacle monster thing was not high on their list of must see activities of Outer Ring City.

But because it was not lost on either of them what may be lay waiting in a cemetery at the end of their very long journey. Knowledge neither man wanted to uncover if it was true.

It had taken The Blades most of a full Core Cycle to reach their currect location from the doors of The Exo Club. Far enough from home that they decided to travel in full body suits to make the excursion easier.

James was still the most wanted man alive, in a way he never could have never wished or expected. And Franklin wasn't too far behind in terms on his own alien notoriety.

The last thing either desired on their investigation was to be hindered by an overzealous fan, or worse, an overzealous enemy. Being the first two new humans in some time to a foriegn civilization indeed had its drawbacks. And so one of their various extra limbed, totally obscured disguises was the humans' answer once more.

From behind their tinted helmets, The Blades were free to use the city's different odd public transportation systems, and spy safe from harms way on the unaware aliens bustling around them. Many of which were still accompanied by their Sam clones, naked and chained to their side.

Franklin, of course, had his count of how many SlimStims he observed during their journey as well. Each meant one of his many "sons" was now potentially free of the creatures that had bound him as their current favorite drug of choice. However each boy he counted still in their control, was just another scene waiting to happen for the man of little restraint.

From behind the darkened glass, Franklin Blade was forced to learn to hold his temper at the untenable situation all around. A new for the man. And only allowable due to the face shield he currently wore, obscuring his eternally angry scowl.

But as the two strolled deeper into the quite stretches of the otherworldly cemetery, the swarm of alien onlookers grew less and less, and the elder Blade eventually removed his helmet for air.

"Which direction do you think it is?" asked the man, his human head the only one of its kind amongst a legion of bizarre stone busts.

"Somewhere in the back. Somewhere not important," answered his son as he surveyed the morbid hills around them.

They were looking for marker #ZQ58R1, a plot in the Unknown Homeworld section of the cemetery. The aliens that were buried here had no known record of any kin, besides them, ever inhabiting The Core. No known customs or beliefs either. They had died foriegners in their own exodus, and now would remain that way forever, relegated in their final resting place to a location out of the way to any with a working memory. For the living would not be visiting these stones often. These rocks were memorials for those whom had none alive.

Soon James joined his hoodless father as the two walked between the looming statues of the alien dead. Grand multiheaded granite colossi that could have terrorized with a mere glance the countryside of any world, had they been but able to even move an inch. These eerily still watchers nonetheless gave James the creeps, and the soldier eyed each stone monster down as they passed, daring each immobile beast to be the one to make the first move.

None however blinked. For the best, the soldier thought.

Finally the lonely Umon pair reached their destination. Marker #ZQ58R1.

It was a gravestone consisting only of an unordaned sphere, no other writing of any kind besides its designation visible on its surface.

Franklin looked around, taking a moment. Aside from the roofs of the buildings some vertical distance straight above, this wasn't the worst view the old man could imagine. His eyes began to water.

He had journeyed through fire. He had walked past death. He had even ventured into another universe entirely to find his boy.

And now the tired old soldier stood here, above an unmarked grave on an alien world, waiting to see if the box below held the answers for which he so dearly searched.

"Well get on with it," said Franklin to his son eventually.

James nodded and withdrew his handheld sensor from his coat.

"It's going to take a few minutes," said the younger Blade as the instrument calibrated to the remains beneath their feet.

Together they stood and waited.

"Slim says he might need another Slime Lord to assist in the manufacturing," said the boy trying to fill the time.

Franklin just grunted his response.

"Because regardless of what we find here Dad, there's still a lot of work left to free the others."

Another mumbled reply.

James would not be getting too many more words from the man whom had turned to stone himself, amongst the many still statues flanking them on all sides.

When the scanner finally beeped the end of its analysis, Franklin was however the first to interject.

"What does it say?"

"It's... human," said the soldier. "There's a human buried here Dad."

So it was then.

The ret. admiral continued on.

"And whom is it then James?"

"One moment. Resolving."

Franklin breathed the alien air. So much like Earth's he thought.

"Wesley East, Sir. It's Commander East of The Icarus Mission."

The ret. admiral's chest filled once more with oxygen.Â

Then his son once more began again.

"There's something wrong, Sir," explained James, the worry on his boy's face immediately giving his father a renewed heart attack. "The carbon date. This man's been dead for a hundred years."