The Edge

Arian: Part Nine

Arian wasn't afraid of the dark. He was actually pretty comfortable with it. He'd gotten some of his best work done after sunset, and learning how to navigate dark spaces was a necessity for his life choices.

But there was a difference between navigating freely in a darkness that isn't completely dark and sitting in near-absolute darkness while handcuffed to a pipe.

Strangely, the predominant thought in his mind was a kind of weary acceptance. Like...of course this would happen to him out here. Being kidnapped by a serial killer (?) who was spying on a cult was the kind of thing everyone said happened on the Edge. After the weird shit on the last couple planets? Yeah, this tracked.

So why the hell did Cassandra want to come out here?

No one had anything positive to say about the Edge. Sure, back when humanity was collectively dumber and more overconfident, there had been a real promise of discovery and profit. Back then, there were enough people crazy or stupid enough to think they'd be the ones to pierce through the veil of stars and discover the true structure of the universe. After all, it wasn't really the "edge"; science-y types said the universe didn't have an edge, but no one really knew what that meant.

And no one ever would. As time went on—as the rumors and bodies started piling up, and the wreckages of abandoned or destroyed ships became so numerous that they did form an actual edge—people stopped going. There was nothing out there, the survivors said, nothing in the most terrifying sense of the word. Capital N Nothingness. The further out you got, the more that nothingness seemed to taint the surroundings until you hit that black void and were either swallowed up or barely escaped (sanity not guaranteed). There was no reason for anyone to go, nothing to look for. Even the people insane enough to stay and risk the craziness that seeped out this far didn't fuck with the actual Edge.

So why are you there, Cass? What do you think is out here? Why do you want it so badly?

More than ever, Arian wished he knew what she and Helen had fought about. The answer could've been in that argument. He knew, he just knew, but she'd been stubborn and he'd run off on his own and now he was alone in the dark with nothing but questions.

He tried to focus on one of the less scary questions: namely, what the hell was going on with that recording Alistair Black had shown him. That John guy seemed to know what he was talking about, and he'd sounded genuine when he begged Cassandra to go home. What did he know that Arian didn't? And howdid he know it?

He's not really a prophet, is he?

No. No, that's stupid. Even if he was, don't those guys deal with like...big picture issues? Whole kingdoms going against the will of God or whatever?Tola would know better, but he was pretty sure that was how it went. Why would a guy who can see the future, or know things he shouldn't know, waste his time playing counselor to every random about to make a stupid decision? If that was his deal, it was real rude of him not to warn Arian away from this whole mess before it was too late.

But then again...would you reallyhave listened to him?

Arian had to think about that one for a second. He was stubborn, sure, and didn't buy into the whole prophet thing. But if he'd heard a guy he didn't known warn him away from something he shouldn't know about? The shock of it might be enough to make him reconsider. Maybe.

It hadn't worked on Cassandra, though. Either that or it had and she'd run into some problems trying to turn around, but Arian's gut told him that wasn't the case. Last he'd heard, she was still occasionally bilocating into Helen's room, asleep in zero-G, no real changes beyond different sleeping positions and slightly different lighting. The real question was if the message had made her more inclined to seek him out, or made her want to stay away out of embarrassment...or to avoid him talking her out of it...

Wait, should I be thinking about this too hard? The more concrete his theories and thoughts became, the greater the chance he'd have something useful for Alistair Black, known douchebag. Arian wasn't a snitch; he prided himself on that. But he also knew that his silence had limits. Being interrogated the regular cop way was one thing. He'd even been roughed up a few times. But...well. There was a difference between being roughed up and being full-on tortured. Alistair Black had a smile like a knife and was clearly fine with forcible kidnapping. Arian wouldn't put it past him to get violent.

Arian had a sinking suspicion Alistair Black's ability to dish it out was stronger than his ability to take it.

So. If he didn't know anything, if he was completely empty-headed about his sister's potential motivations, he wouldn't tell. That meant he could keep that messed up lying son of a bitch away from his sister, regardless of how badly it ended for him. Look at me, being selfless, Arian thought a bit hysterically.

This was going to end badly. He wanted to blame it on his siblings for not listening, on Ursa (bitch) for tricking him, and on Alistair Black (bastard) for kidnapping and tying him up. But deep down—significantly less deep with every second he was in there—Arian knew the truth.

He had no one to blame but himself.

And that was one the scariest part of this whole fucked up situation.

.

.

(Author's Note: This story was cross-posted from singlequantumevent.com. If you'd like to see more stories like this one, including ongoing stories and ones that haven't been posted to WattPad yet, check out the site!)