Fortress Vader

One - Incipiency

Motivation is what gets you going. It's the constant threat of a slow death that keeps you going.
Year 0

——————

I don't classify myself as an adventurer. I never seek a thrill, never disobey my father, never go against the path that life put before me.

But here, there is no path, other than to survive. So, once I have my survival as secure as it can be on this planet, I start to grow restless. Which is crazy, because I don't get bored. My mind goes too fast for that. I can sit in silence and think up inventions and stories, envision battles I've read about. I never feel bored in my own mind.

Nonetheless, I am as bored as those slow-moving beetles on Chandrila. It isn't all day, every day...but it is like clockwork. I'm just starting to wonder if it's some sort of anxiety when I realize what happens to the planet at roughly the same time.

I'm sitting up high, having become somewhat of a climber in my solitude because getting high means seeing more and seeing more means eyes on more ground. The sun is overhead, and I simply stare into a bubbling pit of lava. If it was water, one might call it a small pond. Pond doesn't feel right to say, in this case. River though...rivers can be calm, but they can also be violent. Like lava. I don't think ponds can rage like the open seas or the crashing of waterfalls.

My eyes narrow and I put my macrobinoculars to my eyes. The lava pond fills my view, expanded and enhanced. I adjust them to zoom out a hair and verify what I noticed.

The lava no longer appears to be in a boiling frenzy. A second ago, however, the bubbles popped with such violence, molten lava splashed as far as ten meters—more than the tiny pond's diameter. Now, it just...rocks back and forth.

I drop the binocs and stand, taking in the lava closer to the compound. Yes...If I wasn't watching, I'm not sure I would have ever noticed the change. I look at my wristlink. 1307. The day previous, I felt my daily boredom around 1200.

My brows furrow as I look back out onto the lava river that runs down the east side of the complex to my left, the pond to the south, and the cliffs to my right with various streams of lava hugging it tight. It is all relatively calm. Instead of giving the appearance of being on a planet that is volatile to the core, it leaves me feeling as if I'm standing in the eye of a storm, the chaos muted.

I wait. I barely move. I stare so long that I can not tell if it is growing in intensity or not. Until a large bubble pops to my left, and I shift in time to see its spray hit long-dried lava.

My wristlink says 1645.

The next day is the same, about three hours of calm. Or, as close to calm as it gets. Except, it is almost an hour later. It begins around 1400 and ends closer to 1800.

The third night, same pattern, three or four hours, ending around 1900.

I study it for two weeks. I write down everything. I speculate why it happens. I know how my father recorded research, so I work to emulate him, leaving out no detail.

But when the lava begins to cool at 0814 one day, I pull on the pack I prepared the night before and set out.

And it is almost fun that first day, when I see no predators and bring enough water. Adventuring, to my surprise, is exciting. And the excitement is...new. When have I last felt it, the thrum of something between anxiety and thrill?

On the second day, I leave at 0920. When I peer over a ledge I plan on climbing down and see two lava fleas below, red and twice my height, my heart thumps harder in my chest.

I can practice shooting and try to exercise myself into having stamina all I want, I am not a fighter. I am invisible. Shadows don't fight.

But clearly, I'm not actually invisible, and these things are not just a threat to my present existence. They are a pest, and their population numbers will grow fast unchecked.