Little Captain (Part 1)

Karax's convoy, with its open-topped iron-plated train cars packed full of people, rolled leisurely across the vast, barren wasteland of Chemos.

Clear days without radioactive sandstorms had been rare on this wasteland before.

Thanks to Fulgrim's governance, Karax had deployed numerous machines nearby that absorbed radiation concentrations.

Given enough time, once the radiation dropped to a certain threshold, trees could be planted again on this wasteland to block the wind and sand, and hold back the dust.

After that, railways and roads could be built to connect the entire world.

But for now, they still had to rely on these crude machines to travel.

As one of the shelters not too far from Karax, a clear, windless day was perfect for relocating people.

The transfer team was a motley, chaotic mix of all sorts of individuals.

These shelters, nearly crushed by the harsh environment, almost seemed to shed a burden, ordering these radiation-mutated beings to move with a sense of relief.

After all, this group of deformed mutants was a dead weight anywhere they went.

Due to the wasteland's radiation, few among them could even be called "human."

They had long since accepted that.

Living in this hopeless hell, death was not a bad release.

But they hadn't died.

In the endless stupor and despair, they received guidance from a god.

A goddess named Fulgrim descended.

She brought hope to all of them.

Hope.

A remedy that kept people alive.

Even though Fulgrim repeatedly insisted she was not a deity, in the eyes of those who had lost everything, she was no different from the gods in legends who could save humanity.

She gave them a chance to live.

And a longing for the future.

"Brother, the goddess said beyond the sky is the universe, and the ground is actually a ball—so won't we fall off?"

A boy and a girl, both young children, sat on the train car talking.

They were twin orphans; no one knew who their parents were.

Even though neither of them had any deformities, both bearing pale, regular features, they had still been abandoned.

Until the goddess came.

She led them toward the home of the gods, Karax.

The goddess said that there, not only would no one force them to work, but sick people wouldn't be thrown outside either—they'd go to a place called a "hospital."

The hospital was amazing.

Just staying in the hospital would make you better, and you wouldn't die.

And she even brought them candy!

Candy!

It was something delicious, and the goddess told them that taste was called sweetness.

She also promised them, these children—that in Karax, someone would take care of them, the orphans, and they'd get lots and lots of candy, and they'd be told many, many interesting stories.

And there, no one would whip them with a whip either.

That was enough, more than enough.

"Brother! Brother!"

"The goddess also said spaceships can take us up to the sky, but what is a spaceship?"

The girl still remembered the story the approachable, towering deity had told them.

A spaceship, it was... a kind of vessel, like a bird soaring through the sky?

That's what the goddess had said.

But what was a bird?

The goddess said a bird was an animal with wings that flew in the sky.

So Uncle Wenz was a bird.

But he was a "mutant freak," and others wouldn't go near him, saying he'd learned "black magic" in secret, and that's why his hands turned into wings.

Were wings really a good thing?

Children always had endless questions.

"Little ones, what are you chatting about?"

Until the officer escorting their group leaned in, and she shut her little mouth and curled up.

And the older brother beside her stood up precociously, bowing respectfully to that officer.

"Sorry, sir. We'll shut up now."

He was the leader of this convoy, and the other goddess's messengers all called him "sir."

It was obvious from his face—he had a handsome, unmutated visage, and his jet-black hair stood in stark contrast to the other uncles' sparse locks.

"No need to be afraid. I was just asking casually."

That sir smiled.

The goddess's messengers always smiled.

It was an expression they rarely saw before.

When other adults encountered them, most wore stern faces, scattering a few crumbs of starch disdainfully as they begged.

That was the best-case scenario. Most would curse at them to get lost, and the meaner ones would even kick them aside.

"Also, no need to call me sir. Just call me Brother Kasgar."

Perhaps seeing that Kasgar wasn't angry, the little sister mustered her courage after a moment and ventured to ask.

"Then, Brother Kasgar, do you know what a spaceship is?"

"A spaceship, huh."

Kasgar sat down beside the children, thinking about how to phrase it. "A spaceship is like the vehicle you're riding in now, but faster, bigger, and it can fly in the sky."

"When that time comes, we can drive spaceships across the world, helping children like you who are suffering everywhere, and never fear storms or radiation again."

"Yay! Spaceship! I want to drive a spaceship!"

A strange light sparkled in the girl's eyes.

When that day came, if she could fly a spaceship into the sky, she'd definitely scatter candy from it down to the kids below, so they could taste sweetness too.

"You will, little one." Kasgar replied with a smile. "When you grow up, you can become a captain and fly a spaceship."

Kasgar smiled and patted the girl's head, then turned to the silent, reserved boy.

"What about you, little one?"

"In the future, what do you want to be?"

"Sir, the scout team's Augur Array has detected dozens of unknown signals approaching fast from the right side of the convoy. They're likely scavengers coming to raid."

Amid their idle chat, a patrol officer hurried over to them.

"Good. I figured they'd show up."

Kasgar stood up, brushing the dust off himself.

"Pull the scout team back first. Order Fire Teams One and Two to stand by."

"All Guard Teams One through Four, mount up on bikes with me to engage. Team Five, stay on standby. If things get critical, notify Fulgrim for backup."

It wasn't surprising that scavengers had their eyes on them.

Meat. Slaves.

These mutants were a bit irradiated, but still meat, still able to work.

For the Sulfa people living in the terrifying wasteland, that was the most delicious feast.

Even if they got nothing, fallen comrades were still edible.

That was how they survived in the wasteland.

"The bad guys are coming!"

The two children clung to the iron bars of the vehicle, staring at the dust cloud rising in the distance.