Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again. Chapter 392: Mercy?

Sunshine did not want to spend her ti waiting for the fever wasps to arrive or the crocodylus and snake to end their fight. Both things seed to be taking forever. She went off her shift on the spaceship. It happened to be a mundane one as Nine was absent.

When she returned to the real world, she went to the chanics section, straight to the damaged trucks that had been returned to the base. They had been placed next to the base junkyard, their hoods yawning open like wounded beasts.

She stopped at the first one and got to work, tal clanging under hands as she unscrewed bolts and broke the vehicle apart, piece by piece. Her plan was not just to fix but to upgrade as well.

In the background, alien jazz music was playing, a gift from the lizard repairman. He had not said much to her. He just handed her a recording device and walked away.

The music was new to her ears, but she liked it. It destructed her from the pain she felt when she saw all the damage which had been done to her trucks.

Almost an hour into her work, a pair of wings sward above her head before a shadow descended, robes fluttering in the wind. Father Nicodemus landed lightly like a cat, without making a sound.

"Sunshine," he said, voice strained. "I heard about what is happening in Westbrook."

She pushed herself out from under the truck and entered the truck, wrench rotating in her hand. "I heard about it too."

Father Nicodemus arched his brows. She had not just heard, she had witnessed it in the command center. Her response was rather vague. "Building have fallen. Hos are on fire. Families have scattered; people are dead. They need help."

Sunshine’s hands moved with chanical precision, sliding a new steering in place. "The last ti I sent help, they ambushed my trucks. Stole supplies, threw grenades at my people and injured so of my soldiers. If they did not have iron shirts, so of them would have returned as dead bodies or not returned at all. They rejected my help. I won’t waste energy on them again."

Father Nicodemus stepped closer, wings folding behind his back. His eyes covered exhaustion, torn between duty and doubt. "With this attack, they have learned their lesson. When the soldiers went there the people were desperate and confused. People do terrible things when starving. But now..."

"Now they are learning the true aning of the apocalypse." Sunshine cut in. Her voice was steel, without rcy or remorse. "I am responsible for the lives of the people I send outside. I won’t risk them for ungrateful idiots."

Father Nicodemus’ eyes faltered. He believed in forgiveness, in lessons, in rcy and compassion. But he also rembered so of the soldiers he had talked to after they returned from Westbrook. So were not soldiers but ordinary dics and supply officers. They had cried when they returned and reunited with their families. One had recounted how close he had been to one of the grenades. The explosion had left shards in his mask.

From the junkyard ca shouts and laughter. A squad of Ariel and his teammates, scavenging through the tal while training like they were under attack from the sky. The attackers were large tal bees with shining exteriors.

The children moved in formation, collecting supplies, stabbing, blasting small dragonoids, shooting paint ball guns, retreating and circling. Ariel, the leader was barking orders. "Keep the circle tight! Don’t let yourself be stung!"

A girl lunged and tripped. Ariel pulled her up but another boy fell on him. All three were stung by bees and pretended to be dead while their comrades carried on with the battle.

Father Nicodemus watched them with sorrow in his eyes. "Is this what we have co to? Look, even these children are training to survive because they want a chance to grow old. Is it right to deny the children in Westbrook the sa chance?"

Sunshine jumped out of the truck, wiping her hand on a rug. She looked at him finally, eting his gaze with her cold eyes. "I am not God; I cannot save all of humanity. I am denying help to those who wished to kill us. The children are unlucky, as much as I feel sorry for them, I also feel sorry for the children of the soldiers that almost died at the hands of their parents.

As for the kids’ squad, they are training because the world is rciless. I will not teach them rcy that gets them killed, only that which keeps them alive."

The priest’s wing trembled. "But if we abandon others when we have the ability to help, what becos of us? The base is supposed to be hope for humanity. If we beco cruel and vengeful, aren’t we the sa as our enemies?"

Sunshine’s jaw tightened. "I could accuse you of blasphemy Father. We are not the sa. We protect our own, they protect no one. That is the difference."

"So, you think they deserve to die." He said slowly.

She pursed her lips for a second. "I don’t think you really want to hear my answer, Father. There is no white or black in the apocalypse. only survival."

She put a mask over her eyes and turned on a blow torch. The priest stood in place, weighing her words and his vows. Why was hope so fragile in the apocalypse? he asked himself. It was like ash, easily blown away by wind.

He pictured the slaughter in Westbrook, children crying, elders dying. But he kept in mind the fear of the soldiers that had been ambushed and almost slaughtered. Sunshine was right, without the iron shirts and fancy weapons, they would have dies out there. So, who was he to ask them to return to that sa place.

Even if Sunshine ordered for a squad to be assembled, would the soldiers be willing to return?

"Perhaps," he whispered, "rcy is a luxury we can no longer afford."

Ti crawled by with agonizing slowness. The priest remained lost in thoughts. The children at the junkyard cheered, having won their battle against the fake mutated bees. They celebrated even though only three survived from a team of what was originally ten.

Father Nicodemus looked at them, wondering what kind of world they would inherit. It would be one of ruin, in so many ways. There was nothing else he had to say to Sunshine. Judging by her actions, she had nothing to say to him as well.

He spread his wings, uncertain of where to fly next. Would he defy the odds and go on his own to Westbrook or stay here, waiting to defend the people that considered him family against the threat on the horizon.

A loud popping drew his attention.

Sunshine dashed out of the truck, lifting the welding mask from her face.

On the bubble, the watchers were awake, Pink was back.

The rest began to make sounds. Short, sharp, frantic noises that echoed across the sky like mocking laughter. They tumbled around on the bubble like it was a bouncing castle.

Their actions made every hair on Sunshine’s arms stand on end. If the watchers were excited, sothing terrible was coming.

"Look at the sky." Father Nicodemus whispered.