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Description
July 24, 1969; Earth's Orbit

Hours had passed before Bromden had finally felt the rockets beneath him going off. The astronauts above spent a night's worth of time getting everything set and resting up before finally dialing in the program to start leaving this world behind. The Module clicked back in with the craft that had been orbiting above for the past day, piloted by Collins. After that, it wasn't long before its rockets went off too. Homeward bound at last, Bromden thought, though his thoughts were more about seeing Wanbli again than just returning to the Earth as a whole.

Four more days of sitting in a cramped little compartment. At least Bromden had a little light for this part of the trip now that he had the Apple of Eden with him. They would be back to Earth in no time. A matter of minutes. Bromden could already feel the familiar pull of his planet's gravity.

He kept thinking back to Wanbli. His first stop after tossing this accursed artifact in a nuclear silo somewhere would be Alcatraz Island. She was waiting there, probably still imagining his ghost as she tried to carry on his legacy. He would sit with her there, assure her he was real, and they would just sit and hold one of her protest signs as a family. He missed her so much. He still had her photo in his pocket. He couldn't wait to tell her that that photo had been to the Moon. She'd love that. The thought of her smile brought tears to his eyes. He was going to see his daughter again. He was going to hug her again and tell her that everything was going to be alri-

Boom.

Bromden clutched the side of the walls. Everything was shaking again. It almost felt like turbulence. The shaking died down relatively quickly, but Bromden's alert level stayed high. Something wasn't right.

The latch on the cargo pit shook and clinked, until soon it jussled open. Bromden barely had time to react. A few crates of moon rocks spilled out of the chamber, and Bromden clung to to sides of the walls to try and maintain balance.

“Houston, we've run into a problem with the disconnect process of the Service Module,” one of the astronauts above said into his radio. “Sending a man down to secure the cargo before finalization, over.”

Bromden's heart practically froze. No no no no, he thought. Don't come down here, don't come down here! He clung to the walls, hoping the friction would be enough to keep him in the chamber. Please please no, they were almost back to Earth! So close!

He heard one of the astronauts come in. It was Aldrin. The man sighed in his helmet, looking at the mess that had spilled out and reporting it to the rest of his allies.

“Houston, there’s a cargo breach,” he said. “Going to attempt to refill and reseal, over.”

“Copy that,” his radio crackled. “Secure what lunar samples you can before the scheduled detachment time then let the rest burn up with the rest of the vessel if you can't get to them in time. Make sure the Precursor artifact is secured first. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.”

Bromden could feel his grip slipping. He cursed to himself. No no he was so close! He was…!

His hand slipped from the wall. He gasped. The rest of his body quickly followed suit. He went rumbling uncontrollably out of the cargo pit, panicking as he tumbled into the side of the ship wall with a hard thud that might as well have been a thunder clap.

Aldrin looked up from the samples he had started picking up, and reeled back in shock. Bromden frantically stood to his feet, and the two stared down at each other, both dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events.

“Mayday Houston mayday!” Aldrin panicked into his radio. “There's a stowaway in the Module, I repeat we have a stowaway in the Module!”

“I'm sorry, Apollo 11, a stowaway? Over.”

Bromden acted fast. He lunged forward at Aldrin, attempting to tackle him. Unfortunately his nimbleness was hampered by his big bulky suit and the wonky gravity. He hit Aldrin but not as directly as he would have liked. The two went spinning, both falling off balance.

“Copy Houston, there's an Assassin aboard the Command Module! Red alert!”

“An Assassin?” Armstrong said from the cockpit. “How the hell-?”

“Keep the artifact away from the intruder, Aldrin!” Houston demanded. “Secure the package. Eliminate the threat!”

Bromden's eyes went to the Apple floating amongst the crates. So did Aldrin’s. The two men looked at one another, and then lunged up to grab it. They ended up slamming into one another instead of getting a hold of their target, and they ping-ponged against the walls. Bromden decided to try and use that to his advantage. He flicked his wrist, ejecting his hidden blade from its sheath on his arm, and bounced himself off the wall. He lunged towards Aldrin, but his enemy dodged. The Templar agent slammed his elbow down onto Bromden's back, causing him to shout in pain.

Bromden recovered quickly though, and spun himself around. He thrust his fist upwards, hitting Aldrin in the helmet and sending him reeling back. He used the chance to jump to the side, towards the floating Apple. He wrapped his fingers around the artifact, letting out a quick cheer of victory before it was swiftly dashed when his leg got pulled downwards. Aldrin gave him a punch to the helmet and Bromden retaliated. The two of them punched and wrestled. Bromden had the disadvantage of using only one hand. He had the Apple in the other and there was no way he was about to let it go.

Bromden gave Aldrin one more solid punch, and it sent the astronaut spinning towards the exit leading to the cockpit. He kept his blade out in his free hand, his stance daring him to come forward.

“Buzz! We're about to detach,” Armstrong crackled over the radio. “Leave the stowaway! Grab what you can and get back here!”

“The Precursor artifact!” Aldrin protested.

“Leave it! Get in here!”

Aldrin stared at Bromden, then at his blade, then at the Apple in his hand. Bromden couldn't see past the tinted visor of his opponent, but he could feel the man's frown.

“You win, Assassin,” Aldrin conceded with a sigh. The man reached out to grab a few of the floating moon rock cases nearby and quickly shuffled back into the cockpit, sealing Bromden in the chaotic mess below.

Bromden didn't give himself the luxury of a sigh of relief, though. They were about to detach this whole segment. Expose him to the vacuum of space and leave him to die. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find a way to escape. He heard the vehicle start to beep and click, the machines all ready to detach at the press of a button. He thought fast. He sprung himself off the wall, aiming for the door of the Lunar Module. His hand locked onto the handle, and he frantically tugged and stabbed at it until it opened. He yanked himself inside and shut the door, just as he started to hear the hiss of depressurization. He strapped himself tight to one of the chairs, and got a glance out of the window.

The silver walls of the Service Module were there one moment, and then gone the next. It was cast off into the orbit, left to burn into ash somewhere in the ocean. On the other side of his view, he saw the Command Module containing the astronauts. They continued on their way towards their targeted position, awaiting a safe recovery once they splashed down.

While Bromden was left alone in the sky, tumbling and turning with the Earth miles and miles below him. If he didn't do something fast, this vehicle would be his flaming coffin.

Alarms were going off all around him. Lights flashed red as he frantically tried to pull at levers and smack as many buttons as he could. His experience as a pilot wasn't proving to be very useful in such an extreme circumstance, but it was all he had to go off of.

“Dammit! Come on come on!” he shouted.

He yanked on a lever, pulling it hard to just get this hunk of junk falling in a straight line instead of a tumble. Parts started sparking. Out the window, his view was washed out with blue as the Earth came closer and closer to him. The alarms wouldn't stop. The craft finally started to stabilize, but that was quickly becoming the least of his worries now. It was getting hot. Everything was falling apart. Bromden could see chunks of the craft peeling off in a hail of sparks outside the window. The vehicle was moving in a straight line now, and he had a good view of the vast sea of ocean and clouds below, all tinted by an ever-intensifying tint of flame.

The control panel sparked. Bromden let go of the stick and yelped in pain. His hands were shaking. All of the lights sputtered out as they cracked and died. Nothing was responding anymore. Everything was out of control. He was practically a living meteor at this point.

He reached up and twisted the helmet off of his head. He gazed at the window, and the ocean beyond. Everything was shaking, everything was getting hotter. He was sweating. It was so hot.

He slumped back in his chair. Tears started rolling down his face. The realization was starting to sink in. This was it. This was the end. He did everything he could, and yet he wouldn't get his reward. His daughter was about to be orphaned instead of reunited with her father. All because of a lousy old ball...

He pulled out the photo of Wanbli. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he either hit the water, exploded, or both. If this was how he died, he wanted to make sure his daughter was the last thing he sees. He held the photo tight in his hands, wanting to squeeze it tight but at the same time not wanting to risk damaging it in any way. He cried. Tears rolled down his face. He wanted to stay strong for her, but he also wanted to be strong with her.

He just wished he had been able to say goodbye…

“She'll be alright, don't worry.”

Bromden's eyes snapped wide open. He spun around in his chair at the sudden intrusion of this new voice. To his shock, there was a man standing there behind him, smiling a somber smile. He had a pristine white lab coat, and a pair of goggles dangled around his neck.

“She'll have her rough patches, and learn a lot of lessons the hard way, but she will be alright in the end,” the man said.

“Are you supposed to be some sort of angel?” Bromden asked, not entirely sure what to say. “Or am I just losing my mind because I'm about to die?”

“If either of those possibilities makes you feel more comfortable, then I won't stop you from believing in them.”

Bromden stared at the man, baffled, but too tired to care at this point. He turned back around, sat up in his seat, and stared out the window. “Fair enough…” he said softly.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt… resolve? Or at least something close. He didn't feel like hanging his head as the texture of the ocean got clearer and clearer through the flames outside. Maybe it was just the idea of someone letting him know his daughter would be okay. Maybe that's all he needed in this situation.

“I'm not going to make it out of this alive, am I?” Bromden decided to ask this mystery man.

“No,” the man told him. “I'm afraid not. This is it, my friend. I'm sorry.”

Bromden nodded somberly. “What about the Apple? After all this work, I should hope the Templars don't get their hands on it.”

“Your sacrifice has ensured that they won't, I promise. Your actions are being watched as we speak.”

“Watched?”

“A story for a later time. Just know that the Apple will be found again when the time is right, and the hands that hold it will be the right ones.”

Bromden nodded again. He felt dizzy. Everything was so hot…

The man came up to his side. He didn't seem to be affected by the heat or the shaking. “There is one more thing though, Major Arnolds,” he said. He held up something. A vial of sorts. “Those right hands, they need your blood to make sure they're the ones who hold that artifact.”

“My blood?”

The man nodded. “The blood you gave her naturally isn't quite enough I'm afraid.”

Blood he gave her naturally? As in… passed on? His descendants? Wanbli…

Bromden took a deep breath and held out his arm. “Fine,” he said. “Do what you need to do.”

The mystery man smiled and nodded, and stuck the vial against his arm. Bromden felt the prick of a needle, and felt his blood getting carefully pulled out. He could hardly see through the flames outside anymore. Everything felt like it was spinning.

“Thank you, Major Arnolds,” the man said as he pulled the vial away. “And, have a safe rest.”

There was a flash of blue light, and suddenly the man was gone, leaving no trace he was ever there to begin with, save for the prick mark on Bromden's arm. Everything started fading out. Everything was going black. Bromden closed his eyes. Alarms and rumbling. The heat, the cold. So cold. Rumbling getting louder and louder. He could hear the ocean waves. The alarms beeped. The Animus hummed, the void crumbled. There was only one last noise before it all went quiet, absolutely quiet.

Splashdown.

Description
July 24, 1969; Earth's Orbit

Hours had passed before Bromden had finally felt the rockets beneath him going off. The astronauts above spent a night's worth of time getting everything set and resting up before finally dialing in the program to start leaving this world behind. The Module clicked back in with the craft that had been orbiting above for the past day, piloted by Collins. After that, it wasn't long before its rockets went off too. Homeward bound at last, Bromden thought, though his thoughts were more about seeing Wanbli again than just returning to the Earth as a whole.

Four more days of sitting in a cramped little compartment. At least Bromden had a little light for this part of the trip now that he had the Apple of Eden with him. They would be back to Earth in no time. A matter of minutes. Bromden could already feel the familiar pull of his planet's gravity.

He kept thinking back to Wanbli. His first stop after tossing this accursed artifact in a nuclear silo somewhere would be Alcatraz Island. She was waiting there, probably still imagining his ghost as she tried to carry on his legacy. He would sit with her there, assure her he was real, and they would just sit and hold one of her protest signs as a family. He missed her so much. He still had her photo in his pocket. He couldn't wait to tell her that that photo had been to the Moon. She'd love that. The thought of her smile brought tears to his eyes. He was going to see his daughter again. He was going to hug her again and tell her that everything was going to be alri-

Boom.

Bromden clutched the side of the walls. Everything was shaking again. It almost felt like turbulence. The shaking died down relatively quickly, but Bromden's alert level stayed high. Something wasn't right.

The latch on the cargo pit shook and clinked, until soon it jussled open. Bromden barely had time to react. A few crates of moon rocks spilled out of the chamber, and Bromden clung to to sides of the walls to try and maintain balance.

“Houston, we've run into a problem with the disconnect process of the Service Module,” one of the astronauts above said into his radio. “Sending a man down to secure the cargo before finalization, over.”

Bromden's heart practically froze. No no no no, he thought. Don't come down here, don't come down here! He clung to the walls, hoping the friction would be enough to keep him in the chamber. Please please no, they were almost back to Earth! So close!

He heard one of the astronauts come in. It was Aldrin. The man sighed in his helmet, looking at the mess that had spilled out and reporting it to the rest of his allies.

“Houston, there’s a cargo breach,” he said. “Going to attempt to refill and reseal, over.”

“Copy that,” his radio crackled. “Secure what lunar samples you can before the scheduled detachment time then let the rest burn up with the rest of the vessel if you can't get to them in time. Make sure the Precursor artifact is secured first. Over.”

“Roger that. Over.”

Bromden could feel his grip slipping. He cursed to himself. No no he was so close! He was…!

His hand slipped from the wall. He gasped. The rest of his body quickly followed suit. He went rumbling uncontrollably out of the cargo pit, panicking as he tumbled into the side of the ship wall with a hard thud that might as well have been a thunder clap.

Aldrin looked up from the samples he had started picking up, and reeled back in shock. Bromden frantically stood to his feet, and the two stared down at each other, both dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events.

“Mayday Houston mayday!” Aldrin panicked into his radio. “There's a stowaway in the Module, I repeat we have a stowaway in the Module!”

“I'm sorry, Apollo 11, a stowaway? Over.”

Bromden acted fast. He lunged forward at Aldrin, attempting to tackle him. Unfortunately his nimbleness was hampered by his big bulky suit and the wonky gravity. He hit Aldrin but not as directly as he would have liked. The two went spinning, both falling off balance.

“Copy Houston, there's an Assassin aboard the Command Module! Red alert!”

“An Assassin?” Armstrong said from the cockpit. “How the hell-?”

“Keep the artifact away from the intruder, Aldrin!” Houston demanded. “Secure the package. Eliminate the threat!”

Bromden's eyes went to the Apple floating amongst the crates. So did Aldrin’s. The two men looked at one another, and then lunged up to grab it. They ended up slamming into one another instead of getting a hold of their target, and they ping-ponged against the walls. Bromden decided to try and use that to his advantage. He flicked his wrist, ejecting his hidden blade from its sheath on his arm, and bounced himself off the wall. He lunged towards Aldrin, but his enemy dodged. The Templar agent slammed his elbow down onto Bromden's back, causing him to shout in pain.

Bromden recovered quickly though, and spun himself around. He thrust his fist upwards, hitting Aldrin in the helmet and sending him reeling back. He used the chance to jump to the side, towards the floating Apple. He wrapped his fingers around the artifact, letting out a quick cheer of victory before it was swiftly dashed when his leg got pulled downwards. Aldrin gave him a punch to the helmet and Bromden retaliated. The two of them punched and wrestled. Bromden had the disadvantage of using only one hand. He had the Apple in the other and there was no way he was about to let it go.

Bromden gave Aldrin one more solid punch, and it sent the astronaut spinning towards the exit leading to the cockpit. He kept his blade out in his free hand, his stance daring him to come forward.

“Buzz! We're about to detach,” Armstrong crackled over the radio. “Leave the stowaway! Grab what you can and get back here!”

“The Precursor artifact!” Aldrin protested.

“Leave it! Get in here!”

Aldrin stared at Bromden, then at his blade, then at the Apple in his hand. Bromden couldn't see past the tinted visor of his opponent, but he could feel the man's frown.

“You win, Assassin,” Aldrin conceded with a sigh. The man reached out to grab a few of the floating moon rock cases nearby and quickly shuffled back into the cockpit, sealing Bromden in the chaotic mess below.

Bromden didn't give himself the luxury of a sigh of relief, though. They were about to detach this whole segment. Expose him to the vacuum of space and leave him to die. He couldn't let that happen. He had to find a way to escape. He heard the vehicle start to beep and click, the machines all ready to detach at the press of a button. He thought fast. He sprung himself off the wall, aiming for the door of the Lunar Module. His hand locked onto the handle, and he frantically tugged and stabbed at it until it opened. He yanked himself inside and shut the door, just as he started to hear the hiss of depressurization. He strapped himself tight to one of the chairs, and got a glance out of the window.

The silver walls of the Service Module were there one moment, and then gone the next. It was cast off into the orbit, left to burn into ash somewhere in the ocean. On the other side of his view, he saw the Command Module containing the astronauts. They continued on their way towards their targeted position, awaiting a safe recovery once they splashed down.

While Bromden was left alone in the sky, tumbling and turning with the Earth miles and miles below him. If he didn't do something fast, this vehicle would be his flaming coffin.

Alarms were going off all around him. Lights flashed red as he frantically tried to pull at levers and smack as many buttons as he could. His experience as a pilot wasn't proving to be very useful in such an extreme circumstance, but it was all he had to go off of.

“Dammit! Come on come on!” he shouted.

He yanked on a lever, pulling it hard to just get this hunk of junk falling in a straight line instead of a tumble. Parts started sparking. Out the window, his view was washed out with blue as the Earth came closer and closer to him. The alarms wouldn't stop. The craft finally started to stabilize, but that was quickly becoming the least of his worries now. It was getting hot. Everything was falling apart. Bromden could see chunks of the craft peeling off in a hail of sparks outside the window. The vehicle was moving in a straight line now, and he had a good view of the vast sea of ocean and clouds below, all tinted by an ever-intensifying tint of flame.

The control panel sparked. Bromden let go of the stick and yelped in pain. His hands were shaking. All of the lights sputtered out as they cracked and died. Nothing was responding anymore. Everything was out of control. He was practically a living meteor at this point.

He reached up and twisted the helmet off of his head. He gazed at the window, and the ocean beyond. Everything was shaking, everything was getting hotter. He was sweating. It was so hot.

He slumped back in his chair. Tears started rolling down his face. The realization was starting to sink in. This was it. This was the end. He did everything he could, and yet he wouldn't get his reward. His daughter was about to be orphaned instead of reunited with her father. All because of a lousy old ball...

He pulled out the photo of Wanbli. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he either hit the water, exploded, or both. If this was how he died, he wanted to make sure his daughter was the last thing he sees. He held the photo tight in his hands, wanting to squeeze it tight but at the same time not wanting to risk damaging it in any way. He cried. Tears rolled down his face. He wanted to stay strong for her, but he also wanted to be strong with her.

He just wished he had been able to say goodbye…

“She'll be alright, don't worry.”

Bromden's eyes snapped wide open. He spun around in his chair at the sudden intrusion of this new voice. To his shock, there was a man standing there behind him, smiling a somber smile. He had a pristine white lab coat, and a pair of goggles dangled around his neck.

“She'll have her rough patches, and learn a lot of lessons the hard way, but she will be alright in the end,” the man said.

“Are you supposed to be some sort of angel?” Bromden asked, not entirely sure what to say. “Or am I just losing my mind because I'm about to die?”

“If either of those possibilities makes you feel more comfortable, then I won't stop you from believing in them.”

Bromden stared at the man, baffled, but too tired to care at this point. He turned back around, sat up in his seat, and stared out the window. “Fair enough…” he said softly.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt… resolve? Or at least something close. He didn't feel like hanging his head as the texture of the ocean got clearer and clearer through the flames outside. Maybe it was just the idea of someone letting him know his daughter would be okay. Maybe that's all he needed in this situation.

“I'm not going to make it out of this alive, am I?” Bromden decided to ask this mystery man.

“No,” the man told him. “I'm afraid not. This is it, my friend. I'm sorry.”

Bromden nodded somberly. “What about the Apple? After all this work, I should hope the Templars don't get their hands on it.”

“Your sacrifice has ensured that they won't, I promise. Your actions are being watched as we speak.”

“Watched?”

“A story for a later time. Just know that the Apple will be found again when the time is right, and the hands that hold it will be the right ones.”

Bromden nodded again. He felt dizzy. Everything was so hot…

The man came up to his side. He didn't seem to be affected by the heat or the shaking. “There is one more thing though, Major Arnolds,” he said. He held up something. A vial of sorts. “Those right hands, they need your blood to make sure they're the ones who hold that artifact.”

“My blood?”

The man nodded. “The blood you gave her naturally isn't quite enough I'm afraid.”

Blood he gave her naturally? As in… passed on? His descendants? Wanbli…

Bromden took a deep breath and held out his arm. “Fine,” he said. “Do what you need to do.”

The mystery man smiled and nodded, and stuck the vial against his arm. Bromden felt the prick of a needle, and felt his blood getting carefully pulled out. He could hardly see through the flames outside anymore. Everything felt like it was spinning.

“Thank you, Major Arnolds,” the man said as he pulled the vial away. “And, have a safe rest.”

There was a flash of blue light, and suddenly the man was gone, leaving no trace he was ever there to begin with, save for the prick mark on Bromden's arm. Everything started fading out. Everything was going black. Bromden closed his eyes. Alarms and rumbling. The heat, the cold. So cold. Rumbling getting louder and louder. He could hear the ocean waves. The alarms beeped. The Animus hummed, the void crumbled. There was only one last noise before it all went quiet, absolutely quiet.

Splashdown.