Brothers in Arms

Eclipse the Darkling: Guiding Stars

It really looks insignificant, doesn't it? I think, crouching to study the boxy black device and marveling at its unremarkable appearance. So small and fragile, but it will make or break my fate.

The radio sits silently, its plain plastic casing glittering menacingly in the bright sunlight, and I sigh defeatedly, sitting back from it. I mind my sharp tail as I sweep it to my side, feeling out of my element without my Dark Arms to keep me company and far more lost than I did this morning, when I left them in the secure forest.

Do I really want to do this? I ask myself, uncertain of the answer. As I sit indecisively, an energetic breeze gusts by, and I squint to keep dust out of my eyes. The grassy plains is coated in fine, silt-like dirt, soft like velvety fur but an endless mess--trying to brush it off of my rough skin only embeds it more, and I can't do much but smear it on my armoring red crests. It embarrasses me to think I'll see Shadow in this state, but, then, maybe I won't.

It all depends on me.

For a moment longer, I stare at the radio, unwilling to make this move. I've tried to convince myself that this isn't turning my back on my father's legacy, that my coming actions aren't a disgrace to the pain and grief this planet and its people have caused me, but it's a weak protest. The righteously angry person I was several months ago would never have considered negotiating with a human, much less one from Shadow's horrid organization. I want to think I was stronger then, but I think I was just naive, blind with rage to the difficulties ahead.

The fact is, this world has beaten me. I'm not the proud, ferociously independent soldier I was meant to be, nor am I capable of the conquest I wish I could take in revenge. I'm merely the last one standing, a poor substitute for the leadership my father embodied, and I've proved these past few months that I'm insufficient to take up the mantle of my race's future.

I left the Dark Arms in the forest for their safety, to remain as my last bargaining chip, but there's another reason for leaving them that I'm loath to admit, as well. I don't want them to see me bow before mortals, nor for them to see me surrender to Shadow, who destroyed everything I loved and stood for. It's a sight that they are too young and innocent to bear, and I won't have their faith in me crushed just yet.

I've considered every option I know of, these past months. I've searched desperately for a way to stay hidden, to restart my kind, to turn Shadow--something, anything that would offer an alternative to surrendering. In the end, it was a combination of hope and frustration at my own helplessness that led me to take the radio and travel to the open plains in search of a signal.

I'm the Ultimate Alien--I don't deserve to be scrounging for survival, and neither do my minions, who can take none of the blame for my mistakes but who suffer for them, regardless. We deserve better, and, if even Shadow the traitor can enjoy a life on this wretched planet, then there must be an option for us. Even if I must grovel before a human, even if I must pay for freedom and shelter with my powers, I will carve out a future for us in which the next meal is not a question, free of sleepless nights spent hiding in shallow caves and sleeping on cold stone.

I'm doing this for them. For myself. For our future, and for the future of our race. It's not the future I envisioned, but it's the only future I can see, short of imprisonment or a life of squalor as fugitives. It's the future I've fought against ever since it first crossed my mind, and it's the future that has been resilient enough to force even me to accept it as my only option for success. It's still our future, after all, even if it's spent beneath humans.

The thought gives me the courage to move closer to the radio, thinking of my minions and the future I am determined to secure for them. Then, I take a measured breath and cast my fate to the whims of Chaos, reaching out a three-fingered hand to turn it on.