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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 9, 2008 4:02:59 GMT -5
This is the beginning of the novel that my friend is helping me write. I would love to know what you guys think.
Chapter 1:
As Priest lay there on the ground, his body broken, he was most certain that he would die. He thought of his impending doom, a look of despair drawing across his face. His body hurt. Not with the sharp throb of having been wounded, but with the dull ache of overexertion giving way to painful fatigue. The sweeper patrol would be around in a matter of minutes. They would find him, of that he had no doubt. He would be given no quarter, as was to be expected. ‘On the bright side,’ he thought sardonically, ‘at least it will be a quick one once they find me.’ The Sweepers had no desire to torture a man who didn’t have the strength to cry out. But that didn’t mean that he was going to be given a dignified death. Dismemberment was a common style of execution, since a desecrated body was gruesome and unlikely to garner the respect of the populace. Such was the Machiavellian logic of the elitists on the other side of the wall. Hearing the sound of driftdiscs nearing, Priest mustered his strength and turned his head. It was a patrol of three guards off in the distance. They hovered in his general direction, in wide arcs on translucent metallic plates. His vision began to blur in his nervousness, as they tended to do when he became excited. The patrol grew closer, a mere few blocks away. Soon, their biosensors would reveal his position to them. They neared, and anxiousness overtook him. Each moment of anticipation was an eternity. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized two figures drawing toward him. His eyes adjusted, and he saw them as a boy and a girl, holding hands as they approached. The boy was pale, possibly albino, and the girl being lightly tanned. They walked with wraith-like grace. He found himself held enrapt by their presence. Overhead, the Sweepers were closing in. They had no doubt spotted him now, for they were heading directly at him. They didn’t acknowledge the two young ones, or even seem to notice them at all. He looked back to the boy and girl, who had somehow grown considerably closer. They had traversed a distance in a mere moment that was inhuman. Were he not so amazed, surely it would have struck fear into his heart. He began to watch them closely. He thought his eyes had been fooling him, for their movement was surreal. A fleeting thought went through his mind. Perhaps they were not real? Perhaps they were an apparition of his excitable mind to help him cope with his own death? It was not hard to believe, based on how they moved. It was as though they moved from one point to another and existed in both at once. Between the points where he could see them clearly, there was something of a blur. The sweepers reached the area that their scans had detected someone, the place where Priest had resided just a moment ago. Baffled, they lowered to the ground, the disks beneath their feet collapsing into their boots as they touched down. The captain of the patrol turned to the other two, saying, “Bryant, focus your scanner to the west. Erickson, you focus to the south. Proceed on foot. I’ll stay back here in case you chase them out. And remember, if your scanners don’t pick up anything, that doesn’t mean that nothing’s there. It’s just the fallout interference.” The two patrol men nodded and saluted (“Yes, Captain Lankester”), then went about their orders. He looked around the area of jagged metal. He stood in an opening of about five hundred square feet. Probably a plaza in what had formerly been a busy district of the city. Now, there were half destroyed buildings and collapsed wreckage, leaving plenty of places for someone to hide. Pressing his forefinger onto his arm, a small panel slid to the side, revealing a monitor and a numerical keypad.
Punching a few numbers into the keypad, he was connected with the backup channel of the ComLink Network. He looked around the area, speaking into the microphone in his helmet. “In pursuit of a suspect, adult male, approximately eighteen to twenty years old, generally fit and in good health, according to the bio-scans. I have dispatched two guards in northern quadrant, sector epsilon-theta six. Have yet to discover the fugitive. We believe he may be a member of one of the terrorist cells that have been making excursions over the wall in the northern and northeastern quadrants…” He waited for a reply, but all he heard from the other end was static. Not terribly far away, Priest lay under the protection of a mass of warped metal beams. Recalling in his mind what had happened mere moments before, he was distraught. It had been only instants ago; he was prone in the middle of the open plaza, sweepers closing in. Then, the miracle had occurred. The two children had appeared in the distance, and closed in on him, like angels sent from above just as he was praying for salvation. Before his thought was even finished, the two young children swept him up and whisked him away. Speaking of which, where were the two? They were nowhere to be seen, at least with his obscured vision in the sea of metal. Perhaps he had passed out and imagined them? The change in surroundings seemed virtually instantaneous, so that was not out of the question. Perhaps they were phantasms that he had dreamed up. Creatures that could move faster than the speed of thought. His own guardian angels. And yet, they must have been real, for one of them had crept up to him, eerily undetected. It was the boy, and he sat beside Priest, looking at him with almost a clinic detachment. For a long while, they just sat there. It was Priest who broke the silence, repositioning himself against a slab of concrete. “What’s your name boy?” he boy eyed him for what seemed years, then, as though having approved of him, spoke, barely above a whisper “Gavin.” Hearing the almost inaudible word, Priest nodded and cleared his throat. “Well Gavin, my name is Marek, and I would like to thank you.” “For what?” the boy inquired. “For saving me.” Priest was somewhat confused by the boy’s apparent lack of understanding of the concept, from the expression on his face. This boy was puzzling. A moment later, the girl appeared, crawling beneath the low steel beams into the little alcove they sat in. He looked at her, and she smiled pleasantly to him. From nowhere, a word formed in his mind. Mina. Much intrigued, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sharp whisper from the boy.
“You mustn’t talk, the patrols are still about. Stay quiet, low and still.” Priest did what he was told.
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Post by Ro on Apr 9, 2008 10:15:22 GMT -5
I'm sorry for posting after Chapter 1, but personally I'm not digging the color scheme.
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 9, 2008 10:52:41 GMT -5
I waited to post in case anyone had anything to say. What color shceme would you like? I just didn't want to have hte monotony of white on black.
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Post by The Pyro on Apr 9, 2008 12:50:05 GMT -5
White on Black monotony = Readability without nausea.
In my opinion, anyways.
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Post by Ro on Apr 9, 2008 23:32:53 GMT -5
Well, I didn't like red and blue, especially that shade of blue on black and an overall red color scheme.
Red and white would be nice, but I don't see the point on doing it on every other paragraph. Maybe have narratives be in red?
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 18, 2008 13:35:57 GMT -5
Chapter 2:
“Every so often, there comes a person with an idea so revolutionary that it must be seen to fruition. Seldom does the idea work fully. Rarer still is when the tools to take the idea to its fullest extent are at the disposal of the one who proposes it. This is such a time, when will meets opportunity. For those of you viewing this who do not know me, I am Eramis Lankester. For any of you who know about me, you may recall my work on the synthesis of wormholes and their relationship to quantum interference. “Well, I have been continuing my research, in an attempt to diminish the interference caused by creating wormholes in non-static reality. Intrinsically, the creation of a wormhole is very unstable. But we have been creating them in labs for years now. We’ve sent objects through one end and have them appear light years away. The problem lies in the fact that thus far, we have only been able to create wormholes in a controlled environment, one suited to be able to withstand the fallout from the proton-antiproton pairs reacting. However, I have developed equations that prove that we can create a vessel to suppress the antiproton combustion so that it may be used in non-static reality.” The doctor panned the vidcam over to a large board of sheet metal, upon which was scrawled thousands of lines of equations. His hands circled in the air around a section of the equation. “This part explains that the physical density of the vessel is irrelevant if we can line it with a positronic substance to counteract the combustion. The ratio of the matter packets’ mass is relative to the intensity of the combustion, so if we seed positrons throughout the matter packets at the moment that they react, it will act as a muffler to the interference. “This alone is enough to warrant a new project to be initialized. However, it will involve a little bit of trial and error. Those are expenses I am willing to cover myself. However, I am in need of assistance in the field of manpower. I and my colleagues can handle the science of the project, but we need to have some people to do logistics, security, and the like. In return your military will have mostly exclusive rights to the technology when we decide to go public, and other such benefits which can be put into writing if you wish to work with me.” Eramis pulled out a paper from the top drawer of his desk, and looked down to it. “I have compiled a list of a few people that I would like on my team here, to be cleared by you, of course. I would like to name Brigadier General Roy Malton as my Senior Security Advisor and Commandant of Base Garrison, Gerald Wysocki as Junior Security Officer, a few others. I can have one of my aides send the rest of it to you.” Eramis went on for some time about various specifics of his project, and after he was through, he pressed the ‘End Transmission’ button on his hand-held remote. The wall cameras stopped recording and sent all the video to a single wall, separated into smaller clips for ease of navigation and to aid in editing. One of his technicians would do that for him, while he immersed himself in more research or other such diversions. When his aide came into the office, Eramis gave a curt nod and walked out, stepping down the blank corridor of the laboratory complex. Labs with glass walls flanked him as he headed to the end of the hall and entered his one place of solace, his personal library. As he closed the door, he sighed with relief. This was the only room in the entire complex that had the air of having been lived in. In a way, it had been, as he had spent countless nights passed out in the middle of reading up the research of his colleagues. In fact, one such treatise lay on the arm of his overstuffed chair. Cocking his head to the side, he read, “Neural Circuitry and Nanotechnology” He sunk down into the comfortable depths of the chair, intent on continuing to read. Mere moments later, he was asleep again, book in hand.
----------- “Wake up, we’re here.” It was Cliff, hovering there over him. “You okay buddy? You look like hell…” Cliff waved his hand in front of Roy’s face. Roy’s eyes flew open, and he groggily smacked away Cliff’s hands. He looked around, trying to stimulate himself into awakeness. “I guess I must have dozed off. Didn’t realize I was so tired.” With a half smirk, Cliff said, “Maybe you just threw back one too many.” Roy nodded, laughing slightly. He pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed his duffel. “You ready to head out now Cliff?” Cliff nodded, looking to the door at the end of the lounge.
“DOCKING SEQUENCE INITIATED” Cliff leaned down to grab his bags. The transport lurched as the platform couplers connected to the docking bay. Cliff was promptly thrown to the floor, to the amusement of the other soldiers. Despite the jeering and laughter, he forced himself up and began toward the exit, where Roy was already standing. Passing through the door, Roy found himself standing with the other recruits in a very plain room. The door behind them slid closed with a whir as the last of them stepped off the transport and onto the docking platform. From the walls, an automated voice spoke: “ADJUSTING CABIN PRESSURE”
Roy could hear suction from either end of the platform and a weird feeling came over him. He felt heavy, as though his very flesh was saturated. A moment later, his ears popped, and before long, the platform door opened.
Stepping off the platform, Roy found himself in a completely new world. Blank walls were replaced by full room windows, and beyond that, the depths of the ocean.
Roy was on a golden walkway, walled on either side with quarter inch plexiglass. The docking corridor stretched toward the main bay. Its walls reached up, arcing in a translucent dome.
Walking down the corridor was a near spiritual experience. On his left, a school of fish commuted together. To his right, a stingray swam so close he could have touched it, were it not for the barrier.
His awe was broken by the scuffing feet of the soldiers around him. Snapped back to reality, Roy began forward again. The end of the corridor opened up into a large domed room. It stretched about one hundred feet abreast and thirty feet long. On either side of him, there were openings to other corridors, no doubt leading to the other docking bays.
In a matter of moments, the seemingly spacious hall was swarmed with people, as recruits poured in from each of the half dozen doorways. This great hall had become a hive of motion and chattering, with each different group of recruits deep in one conversation or another.
Cliff came up from behind Roy and said, “So, is this what you signed up for Malton?”
Roy looked around to the soldiers, then to the walls of water around them, then back to Cliff. “Well, I didn’t think it would be this noisy…”
“FALL IN!”
All at once, the mass of soldiers fell into formation. Roy found himself surrounded by thousands of men who, like him, had been given this post as a reward for good service (or even as a bribe to keep them quiet about certain privileged information). Roy was at a loss as to why such an isolated place would require so many more soldiers. Out in the middle of the ocean between the floating landmass known in ages past as California and the mainland, they were in a rather secure place, even if the old nation didn’t have the best relations with the relatively young sovereignty.
Long moments passed in the sea of gray khaki before any new orders were issued.
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 20, 2008 10:56:53 GMT -5
Chapter 3:
Eramis awoke in his overstuffed chair a few hours later, though not feeling replenished in the least. Stretching his legs, he yawned and groggily got to his feet. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he ventured back out into the corridors of the complex. It did not usually take long for the government to send a reply to a proposal, so he was hopeful that he would go back to his office and find the response.
After a leisurely stroll through the labs to check on all the side projects his technicians were currently working on, he found himself outside the door of his office. He let out a sigh as he pushed open the door. As he stepped in, he noticed a man sitting behind his desk, facing the window. The door closed behind him. The man obviously heard, because he spun around in dramatic fashion to look upon Eramis.
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Deep within the center of the city, known to its inhabitants as Valor, there is a room. The room is octagonal in shape, with heavy wooden doors from each wall. In the center is a round table and under foot is a carpet of crushed velvet. No pictures or hangings adorn the walls, the only decoration being carved wooden relief into the very walls themselves. There is a sconce above each door, located one behind each chair at the table. Aside from the light from those eight points, the room is dark.
A door opens, and then another, until over the course of a minute, at all thresholds, a figure stands. All at once, as though choreographed, the figures converge and seat themselves at the table. In the dim light, they can barely see one another, save for the warm glow which shows off the metallic masks with which they hide their identities. Long moments of silence pass before one man breaks it.
He is the Head Councilman of Valor, for none would speak before him, as is the right afforded to him. His voice fills the room in such a way that none may know from whence it came. He speaks, “You all know why I have called council on this day, and if you do not, then you must be neglecting your responsibilities as Councilmen.”
Eight pairs of eyes glance about the room, moving to and fro over each of the others. After a moment of almost accusing stares, the councilmen settle themselves so that he, the Ethereat may continue. “It would appear that one of the scums from OldCity made his way over the wall to smuggle out goods again. The frequency of such events distresses me. Further, the felon was not caught by your patrols, and that is inexcusable.”
A panoramic image appears to rise from the table. A short video clip begins to play. A man dressed in little more than rags hoists himself over the wall, using the buttresses of the guard towers as foot and handholds. He falls over the wall, dropping a good twenty feet before hitting ground.
Still carrying his prize from raids, he continues into the sea of ruins that is OldCity. He stumbles and falls, then rolls to his back. From over the wall, patrolmen on driftdiscs come toward him, closing in. There is a blur in the crystal quality image and an instant later, the man is gone.
“If someone could explain this phenomenon to me, it would be greatly appreciated.” A tone of irritation is on the Ethereat’s voice, only barely covered by his eloquence and politesse.
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The next few days were a blur of sleep and half-awakeness. Sometimes, Priest would regain consciousness for up to an hour, others for mere moments. When he finally found the strength to stay up, he would eat whatever food Gavin could scavenge and bring to him. While Gavin was gone on the fourth day, Priest began to speak.
“Mina, how long have we been here?” His throat ached as he used organs that had gone without practice for so long.
She smiled to him a little, as though glad he was regaining his strength. Her green eyes gleamed with a nervousness whose source seemed unknown. She licked her lips and answered, “We've been here for about three days. You have been sleeping most of the time. Gavin says that we'll be moving soon, once you have the strength to walk.”
Nodding, Priest rested his head again. “Then I should probably conserve my energy.”
Inching closer to him, Mina reached her hand down and pressed a piece of food to his lips. Taking the morsel into his mouth, he smiled to her, his hand reaching and touching hers in thanks. She blushed and pulled away, moving back away from him. These children were so odd, Priest thought, looking over to her. He reclined his head yet again and closed his eyes.
After some time, he found that Mina had moved closer to him again. Now she knelt at his side, looking down at him, picking at her fingers. When his eyes opened, he found her hovering over him. She had been completely silent, which was unknown to him. At his estimation, she was about thirteen, and most thirteen year old girls he had known were rather talkative.
As if to appease him, Mina asked, “Why were you lying there, in the middle of the plaza? It seems odd, since there isn't anything around here.”
He closed his eyes, thinking back, remembering all the events of his life that had lead to him ultimately being here. He remembered back when OldCity had been abandoned, even by the philanthropists and humanitarians as being a lost cause. Even before that, he was raised in the slums.
Once, he had been trying to go over the wall into Valor, and had been quickly caught. That night, he had been the guest of the barracks prison of the city, where he had been beaten and abused in ways that would make grown men grow faint. He had been kept there for five hours, one for each form of torture. The first hour, that of beatings. The second, cutting. Then scalding and freezing, And finally, an hour for sound torture.
In the wee hours of the morning, he had been released, having been deposited in a pile outside the wall, half blind and deaf.
Priest had not realized he had been verbalizing his memories until his thoughts were broken by Mina's words. “That's horrid. When did that happen?”
Priest looked at her dismally. “I was six. After that, I was so angry that I would pick fights with anyone I met. I was quite the ruffian. Then, when I was probably about your age, I met Dominic Martel. He took me in, gave me discipline. In return, he asked nothing but for me to be civilized so that the elites in Valor would not be right about us in OldCity being nothing but cutthroats.
“Dominic was a smart man, very learned. He took me under his wing and taught me all the philosophy and religiosity he knew, and I took it all to heart. And fighting. He disciplined my fighting to an extent I never knew I was capable of. After that, every time I came across someone in OldCity, I tried to bring them to Dominic. After some time, we established a sort of community so that we could protect one another”
Mina listened, captivated by Marek's storytelling. “What do you call this place where you and the others have gathered?”
“Hope.”
“Do you think that when we leave here, maybe with can come with you there? I mean, if Gavin says that we can...” Priest nodded as much as he could from his position. “I don't see why not.” He sighed heavily then asked, “Well, I have gone on about myself quite a bit. Where did you and Gavin come from?”
Before Mina could answer him, Gavin entered their womb and looked straight to Priest. “We don't know...”
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 23, 2008 6:41:47 GMT -5
Chapter 4:
After having been given his barracks assignment, Roy, along with the other members of his squad, were escorted out of the docking bay by a man known to them only as ‘Squad Leader.’ As they walked the corridors to their barracks room, he was explaining to them the layout of the facility.
“The Delta Colony is formatted as a single plane composed of concentric circles. Each ring is devoted to a specific function. For instance, the outermost ring is composed of the docking bays, which we have just exited. There are four more docking ports similar to the one you came in through, each composed of—“ He stopped, and looked at Roy, who was staring upward at the hustle and bustle of sea life above him.
Deciding to make an example out of him, the Squad Leader asked Roy, “Recruit Malton, perhaps you can tell me how many docking bays are in each of the docking ports and how many ships can be docked at each bay?” He sneered at Roy, who looked at the man, expressionless.
Roy said nothing. The squad leader opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Roy, who spoke, reciting the information about the colony from the pamphlet verbatim. “The Delta Colony’s docking bays encircle the entire circumference, being divided into five different ports. Each port is separated from the next by magnetic doors which can only be opened by a key set to a specific frequency. Each port consists of a dozen separate bays, which can each hold up to ten ships. At any given time, half the bays contain a defensive ship, making the colony a veritable fortress.”
He paused for a split second, then, looking at the squad leader, he spoke with an air of boredom on his voice, “Would you like the technical specifications of the ships?”
Bewildered, the squad leader said, “That is right out of the Colony Report, which hasn’t even been released outside the colony. In fact, the information was sent out of the colony to be compiled for the report in a secret location. How do you know it?”
“I wrote it sir. Perhaps you should have chosen more wisely who you try to make an example of.” Infuriated, the squad leader turned away from Roy and continued down the corridor. There was a tension in the air, even apparent in the high pressure of the ocean.
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Startled, he looked at the man who was seated in his chair. A momentary lapse in composure yielded Eramis reaching behind himself to feel for the touchpad to open the door. Sensing his discomfort, the man stood up, “I apologize for alarming you, Doctor Lankester. I am Tom Archibald. I’ve been sent here by the National Technological Acquisitions Board to discuss the proposal you sent. We at the NTAB have determined that your proposal has left your goals somewhat unexplained. We don’t quite understand what the aims of your project are. Your logic and explanations were a bit abstract. That is why I am here.”
The man looked around the office, then back to Eramis. “Where are my manners? Please, let us sit down so that you can clarify some things.” He moved around and took a seat in one of the chairs in the office.
Following suit, Eramis seated himself in a chair opposite this stranger. Letting out a sigh, he looked at the man, not knowing where to begin. Archibald waited for a moment, and then initiated the conversation, “Tell me, Doctor, exactly what are you proposing? Normally, we would overlook such an ambiguous proposal, but since you are so respected in the scientific community, we decided to hear you out.”
Eramis nodded and resigned, “I admit that my proposal was probably a bit all over the place. Essentially, everything is based on wormholes. As you no doubt know, a wormhole can allow us to send an object to another point in space-time. However, the current perception of space-time is somewhat inaccurate. It seems to have become common knowledge that while space is more or less static, time is dynamic. This is where the misconception about time stems from.
“Unfortunately, this misconception is perpetuated by man’s temporal asymmetry. Our lack of understanding about the human life cycle causes us to view time as something to be afraid of. There is nothing to fear from something that doesn’t change, so naturally, time must flow.
“This is faulty logic. We perceive time as we do because we can only see glimpses of it. However, we do not deny that there is an entire world beyond the reach of our senses. If I close my eyes, the world has not changed, I have. Why would time be any different? The problem stems from the fact that we are not conscious of time as it exists.”
Tom nodded, trying to absorb the revelation that had been introduced to him. He had removed a legal pad and a pen from his attaché case and was writing notes on it, no doubt to be looked over by his superiors. Eramis continued, “Space, on the other hand, is something what we can perceive with multiple senses. We can watch as new things occupy space. We can hear sound waves travel through space. Space is static, in our eyes. To us, space does not change. Time-space is like a tesseract.”
“A tesseract?”
“A four dimensional cube. All things that occur in a four dimensional space, such as our world, occur at the same time. Contrary to the widespread belief that multiple objects cannot obtain the same space at the same time, all things occur in the same space at the same time. Time-space is everything and everywhere and everywhen all at once. However, because of our limited consciousness, we can only see pieces of it at once.”
“Doctor, I don’t mean to be obtuse, but what does this have to do with anything? What’s the point? What are you telling me that this understanding makes us able to accomplish?”
Eramis gave a resolute sigh, “For want of a better term, Mr. Archibald, I’m talking about time travel.”
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“So what were you doing before you saw me?” Priest was looking at Gavin, a bit confused by the cryptic answer that he had given for his question. Before Gavin had come back he had felt so tired and weak, yet now that he had returned, Priest felt alert and somewhat invigorated by the mystery surrounding the boy.
“Well, for as long as I can remember, we were living with a group of other kids. Can’t remember anything before I was about six or so, but then, I don’t even really know how old I am anyhow. Time just seems to sort of meld together into one long memory for me. At any rate, Mina and I have been with this group of about seven other kids, and we were supposed to be scouting ahead for them. But then we found you. I hope Victor and the others aren’t too worried. Hopefully they holed up somewhere to avoid the guards…”
“Gavin, we have to find them!” It was Mina, looking to her brother, lower lip trembling nervously. Gavin looked at Mina, then motioned to Priest.
“We can’t just leave him here. The patrols might find him, and then they could find out about us. You don’t want to go to the detention camp on the other side of Valor, do you?”
Mina shook her head, and lowered it, saddened at the prospect of losing their friends. The two children sat silently amongst the dust.
Not knowing how long it was, Priest fought his body’s tiredness, trying to force himself up. It seemed to be an invisible struggle, as he nary moved an inch. However, over an unknown period of time, he began to gain control over his body. When he finally got up, Gavin and Mina looked at him, amazed, as it had been only a few moments before that he had been prone on the ground.
Now he stood over them, his form wavering. Towering over them at six feet even, he looked down, “We should go then, I don’t know how long I can last.”
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 25, 2008 11:30:24 GMT -5
Chapter 5:
In the infirmary, Roy wondered whether it was worth it to have made an ass out of the squad leader. His back stung with red hot pain as he lay prostrated on his stomach. The bureaucracy of this place amazed him. The squad leader had filed ‘intent to perform corporal punishment’ the day after Roy had arrived at the colony, and now it was, three weeks later, Roy was in a hospital bed, fifteen lashes across his back.
It would have been only ten, had it not been for the fact that the squad leader had been promoted to “Captain Matthew Lawrence” before the papers had been officially processed, which resulted in extra lashings for disrespecting an officer. Roy suspected that Lawrence had known about his promotion and filing for punishment would take long enough for his promotion to go through. Anywhere else, Roy thought, they would have just taken off their belt and reprimanded me on the spot. He almost wished it could have been like that, to have just gotten it over with. His mind rolled over the events of yesterday.
Captain Lawrence had walked up behind him, where he stood, tied in place in the punishment yard. He had spoken his piece, “Roy Malton, you have disrespected an officer of this base and have thus breached the code of conduct set forth by the Armed Force of the Arbiter Collective. This infraction requires discipline, 15 lashes.” Then he proceeded to unfurl the whip and crack into Roy’s flesh with abandon.
Roy winced at the pain, reliving it. He closed his eyes and tried to force away the burning on his back, just as he had been all day and all last night. After a time, the pain subsided, and his back felt dead and numb. His body felt heavy and he drifted to sleep.
When he awoke, Cliff was sitting in a chair in front of him.
“How’re you holding up Roy?”
Roy mustered his energy for a shrug. “It doesn’t hurt too much anymore. Not unless I move.”
“Then I guess I get to be a bearer of bad news. It seems like our gracious captain has decided that one day was plenty to recuperate after the vicious flogging he gave you. He’s here in the infirmary having them discharge you back into active duty.”
“How is he managing that? The medical teams work autonomously and separate from the rest of the military.”
“Well, apparently he has friends in high places, because I heard one of the orderlies talking about having to serve you with your discharge papers.”
With great effort, Roy hoisted himself up and rolled over into a sitting position. “I don’t get it. I’ve only been here for three weeks, and he’s already cashing in favors on my account?”
“Yeah, well, from what I hear, he’s a real alpha dog. You really must have gotten to him when you showed him up like you did. Sounds like you may have made an enemy for life.” Cliff laughed half-heartedly.
Heaving slightly, Roy pushed himself to his feet. “Well, then I guess I had better take the joy out of his little victory and discharge myself.” He grinned to Cliff as he dressed himself, and walked determinedly, albeit slowly out and down the corridor.
As he approached the check out counter, he saw the captain standing there and speaking with the personnel. He made himself limp a bit as he came up to them. When Captain Lawrence saw Roy in his current condition, his eyes lit up.
“Oh, recruit Malton; it is a pleasure to see you. I just came to check and see how you were doing.” He stifled laughter as he looked at Roy, a feeling of superiority welling inside him.
Roy nodded in acknowledgement, then resumed walking, regularly, toward him. “That was very considerate of you Captain Lawrence. But as you can see, I’m just as fit as a fiddle. Actually, I was just coming to discharge myself right now. I was hoping that you would be generous enough to do me a favor. Perhaps you could sign off on my bill of health for me?”
A smug look drew across his face, as the one on Captain Matthew Lawrence’s melted.
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Still gawking a little at Priest, Gavin and Mina nodded in unison and rose to their feet. They slowly left their hideout and peered around warily. In the west, the sun began to set, its light penetrating the burnt crust of the atmosphere unevenly. As the sun fell, they found themselves bespeckled with the glowing colors of refracted light. They walked on and in only minutes, they were embraced by the velvet darkness of the black sky.
Silver moonbeams drew upon them, scattered by the semisolid atmosphere, and separated by the mangled mess of the urban jungle, and they traveled amidst a world of dancing shadows. They wandered for hours in the entreating darkness, hugging close against the jagged sides of the wide avenues between the shattered buildings. They kept mostly silent, for they didn’t know whether the patrols were still around, or if there were others out there who might want to steal their supplies, or worse.
That was life out in the slums of Valor. Some people banded together, some killed to survive. Some were children caught up in a world they didn’t want, and unwanted by the same world. Condemned to the darkened streets of a ruined city. To be bitten with cold in the winter nights and scalded with heat in the summer days. To be abandoned by those whose decisions has created their plight. To be hunted recklessly like pests by the soldiers of a dying age.
Some people would have said that they were truly free, as they were driven not by obligation, as were those privileged enough to reside in the city, but only motivated by desire. Unfortunately, the dominant desire the citizens of OldCity really had was that of surviving another day, even in their bleak existence.
They trudged through the slums, Gavin leading, as though he knew where to go, even though they all had nary an idea about where the other children could possibly be hiding. A few times, Priest opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it, thinking it wiser to stay quiet, as to not draw any unwanted attention to himself from any of the hidden occupants of OldCity.
They wandered the wreckage, ducking below fallen beams and climbing over blocks of broken concrete foundations, squeezing through gaps between fallen rubble. In the distance, Priest saw the glow of a fire. He whistled to Gavin, pointing off in the direction of the light, who nodded in acknowledgement.
They slowly approached the glowing area ahead, looking around for anyone in the vicinity. They saw no one, and when the got to the fire, they did another one over on their surroundings.
Looking at Priest, Gavin said, “This is probably their camp. This is about where they were when we split up for them.”
“Why did you two leave them anyway, Gavin?”
“We were scouting the area to make sure that there weren’t any patrols. We were trying to move around the city, looking for a place we could breach. Supplies have become scarce for us out here and we were going to have to find a place to get into the city for some things we needed. Then we found you.”
“And trouble, I’m afraid. I think the sweepers probably saw you get me.”
“I don’t think so. And anyway, we were afraid that maybe you had. If that had been the case, we couldn’t let them take you, because then they might have found out about us.”
Priest came to the silent realization that his life would have been forfeit were it not for the young boy’s sense of self-preservation. Gavin hadn’t been trying to save him; he was protecting his own skin. He shuddered slightly at the young boy’s calculating personality.
“Anyway, we should probably stick around here. Victor and the other will probably be back by morning. We’ll stay here until then. With any luck, we’ll find them.” Gavin pointed at an area hidden in shadow beneath an overhanging sheet of metal. “Mina, I want you to go there to sleep.”
Obediently, Mina nodded and hurried under the protection of the darkness.
Priest turned to Gavin, saying, “You get some sleep too. I’ll take first watch for you.”
“No, you need to get rested. Three days ago, you were all but dead.”
“I’m fine. I was able to walk all the way here; I can last a few hours sitting by the fire. Go get some sleep.”
Nodding, Gavin followed Mina into the comfort of the skeleton building. Priest watched him go and after a minute, he sat down, looking into the fire. He waited for a time that he didn’t care to try to measure. His eyes began to feel heavy.
Without warning, both his arms were seized and he was pushed forward onto his knees. He felt an arm come around his neck in a chokehold, and he grasped at it, trying to breathe. He croaked out in an attempt to yell to Gavin and Mina, but to no avail.
After a short struggle, he was able to gain a little leverage and he cried out into the night. Then he felt the pressure of a point of cold steel at his temple. Immediately going rigid, he swallowed hard. From his right, an image emerged. In the dark, he couldn’t make out who it was, or even any distinguishing information about the figure.
With a sigh of submission, he thought, I’ve traded one death for another. He closed his eyes and waited, but no death came.
A voice spoke. From the judge of it, it was a boy, perhaps his age. “What should we do with him?”Then, he heard the scuffling of feet. Fearing for the other two, he opened his eyes. Emerging from behind the fire, Gavin came up behind the other person.
As the figure turned, Priest could see him in the light of the fire. He was just a boy, perhaps a few years younger than himself. Looking at Gavin, he nodded, “Well, if it isn’t Gavin right before me. Where’s Mina?”
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on Apr 28, 2008 8:34:48 GMT -5
Chapter 6:
Opening the office door, Eramis motioned Archibald out and escorted him down the hall. Having expressed an interest in seeing the practical application of Dr. Lankester’s studies he had requested to take something of a tour of the facility, in order to get a feel of what exactly they do. Eramis respectfully declined. “My apologies, Mr. Archibald. But until I can be sure that the government is going to cooperate with me in my endeavors, and by that, I mean that I have it in a written proposal, I cannot allow one of their agents to have access to my work. I’d hate to have any of my research leaked and be betrayed by my work because of the prying eyes of an outsider. Not that I’m calling you an opportunist, but I just have to be careful. Surely you understand.”
Archibald listened, irate from the implication of Eramis’ comments. “Well, if that’s how you feel, Dr. Lankester, that you cannot trust us, then perhaps there are other people we should be talking to. You certainly cannot be the only scientist working in this vein. Perhaps I should speak with one of your esteemed colleagues.”
Nodding, Eramis smirked, “Perhaps you should. But know that I already have been. I’m not business savvy in the traditional sense of the term, but neither am I a fool. Not only will my colleagues back me, as most of them are members of my project, but I have already spoken with other prospective organizations that can afford to me the same benefits that you can. I have plenty of offers on the table, but I wanted to know what you could do for me. So don’t think that you can try to lowball and manipulate me, because I certainly have plenty of options aside from you.”
Resigning, Archibald nodded in defeat. “You are right, Doctor. From what you have told me of your facility and your project, I will make my recommendation to Chairmen of NTAB. Thank you for your time.”
Eramis turned toward an aide who was coming down the hall. “Pearson, I would like for you to show Mr. Archibald the way out.”
The aide nodded, and headed down the hall, motioning for Tom to follow. Archibald looked at Eramis and nodded slightly, heading off after the aide. Eramis turned on heel, calling over his shoulder with a cocky smile, “Just remember, I do hold you in high regard Mr. Archibald.” With that, he turned down the corridor toward his office.
Turning his head, Tom looked back to see Eramis disappearing around the corner. He continued down the hall toward the entrance.
Eramis entered his office and closed the door with a sigh. Another small grin drew upon his face. Apparently, the government was interested in his research. This little ambush had been proof enough of that. But he wasn’t going to give them anything unless they decided to pay a little for it. He supposed that he was a little more business savvy than he had let on, but then, all great victories were won by misdirection. As he settled into his seat, there came a sharp rap against the door.
“Come in Pearson.”
The door opened and the small man entered. Eramis nodded in acknowledgement and Pearson moved to the desk at which Eramis sat. “Mr. Archibald has been escorted off the facility. One of our drivers is taking him to the city.”
“Very good Pearson. Did the recognition programs catch him?”
“Yes sir. He is fully loaded into the archive. He won’t be snooping around here without us knowing his location, or even his body temperature for that matter.”
They both laughed. Eramis stood up and set a hand on Pearson’s shoulder, “Now, we can get back to work. Tell me Pearson, do you have any children?”
He shook his head.
“Well, you’re still young. There’s a chance yet. Actually, I have something of a proposition for you.” He motioned for Pearson to sit and took a seat for himself behind his desk.
“Yes sir?” Pearson took a seat across from Eramis and looked at him intently. A wave of euphoria came over him as he sat there, anxious.
“I know that you know Roy Malton. I know all about him. I have need for his engineering genius. I know that you served under him on the Delta Colony.”
Pearson gave a startled look. The Delta Colony was a very secret operation.
“Don’t be surprised. I have a finger in quite a few things, and I did back then. I want him in on my project. I know that he’s still connected with the military, but I thought that perhaps he might want to come here out of his own free volition. If you can get him here, I will give you charge over a very important part of the project.
Pearson nodded. “I’ll do what I can Dr. Lankester.”
Laughing, Eramis said, “Pearson, we’re co-conspirators now. Call me Eramis.”
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Post by Sir Feyd Brisbane on May 3, 2008 4:52:36 GMT -5
Later that night, Priest sat in the darkness that was barely held at bay by a small fire built by the kids. He looked across the fire, to where Gavin sat, speaking with who was the leader of their little group, the boy named Victor. With the crackling of the fire and the screaming wind through the broken buildings, he could only make out mumbles of their conversation. His eyes scanned around the fire, looking at the dark faces of the children around him.
At his left sat Mina, who stared into the fire vacantly. From the light of the fire, he could see the crease of her forehead, her brow furrowed as though some weighty thought occupied her. A note of melancholy struck him as he thought of how such a young child should not be in such a wholly depressed state. Looking at her made his heart heavy with sorrow, and he cast his glance away.
He became consumed with the same sort of thoughts as must have consumed Mina. He thought back to his young days in OldCity. When he was four, living in a rundown building with his mother and father. Crouched under the half broken walls, lying tight against them to keep away the cutting winds. Holding onto the little warmth he could, provided to him by the concrete foundation that he pressed against. Ragged blankets infested with the sickness of whoever had died beneath them before they had come along. Wrapping those same blankets around him because death by the cold was worse than death by sickness.
Burned by the cold of the night so that his parents would give him their blankets for warmth while they sat huddled against one another to stay warm so their son could sleep contently. Waking to find his parents shivering against one another, frost upon their lips, skin grayed by the wind and dust. Seeing thin smiles through cracked lips as they tried to make it seem like they were fine and he could have all the blankets for himself. Waking in the middle of the night to see his parents in embrace, having rough, emotionless sex, just to keep their bodies warm. Just to feel alive in the dead world around them.
Living off the rainwater that trickled down the dirty gutters through the wreckage. Surviving off the carcasses of small animals unintelligent enough to wander through OldCity. Surviving off the supplies they stole from the dead they found in their endless wandering. Surviving off those very bodies they found when the city gave them no choice. Knowing the sacred life sustaining power of fire and fearing the last match in the matchbook, for even at five, he knew that would mean days of even more restless nights.
To know the days of blazing heat, humid mists and rotting meat. To wander with the stench of the dead following close behind. To wake at the age of six on a three-blanket night and see his parents holding one another tight. To move to them and hug them, feeling their cold flesh. To push and tug at them to wake them up, to pull them from their cold slumber. To see frozen tears on their frostbitten faces. To look up and to curse at the black sky of the night for orphaning him.
Feeling tears flow from his own eyes, he was tugged back into reality. Wiping the tears from his face, he hid himself in the darkness as best he could, shadows dancing on his face. After a time, he looked to Mina, who still stared at the fire.
He leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of her face. He needed as much a diversion as she obviously did. She didn’t respond and just kept looking at the flames. A second snap of the fingers caused Mina to look up, startled. She could feel the weightiness of his heart, torn by the memories of his decadent youth. She gave him a quick smile and looked around at the other kids.
“See her over there?” Mina pointed across the fire to the girl sitting next to Victor. “That’s Kiera.”
Priest followed her gaze to the small girl sitting across the fire, hidden beneath mane of bright red locks. She was sitting by herself, but was watching Gavin and Victor, as though listening in on their conversation. He listened to Mina, thankful that he now had something to distract him from himself.
“She was with Victor since we met him. She’s a nice enough girl, and tried to make us feel welcome. When we met Victor, he already had a little group of a few kids, so we were the outsiders. She was only ever nice to me, but we’ve never really been friends.
“I don’t have anything against her, but I don’t think she really likes me. She always wanted to be like all the boys. If there was a fight or something, you’d probably find her in the middle of it. She’s kind of a tomboy.” Mina lowered her voice, “But I wouldn’t want her to hear me say that.”
Priest laughed slightly and looked around the fire. Ultimately, his gaze went back to Gavin and Victor. He turned back to Mina, “So I guess your brother and Victor are friends?”
“Kind of.” She shrugged, looking at the two, “Feels kind of like we were thrown together with everyone here. They’re friends in the sense that they respect each other and stuff, but I bet they’re probably talking about the strategic advantage of you being here with us, or whether or not we should go back to Hope with you. I don’t really see them making small talk.”
“You’d think that they’d have more emotional attachment, if you guys have all been together for so long.”
“I guess so, but my brother is kind of weird like that. Sometimes I think that he might leave me here if he thought I was holding him back. But then, the rest of the time… we’re all each other have. He protects me from everything. He’s always watching out for me. When he’s around, I feel like I can sleep without keeping one eye open. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“He sounds strong enough for all of you.” Priest murmured, mostly talking to himself.
Mina made a face. “Are you saying that we’re weak?!”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just… I wish that I were that strong.”
She looked at him, a bit skeptical. She then shrugged to herself and leaned back against the wall, looking at the fire.
“So how did you two meet Victor?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
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