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Short Story Contest #7 - Space Opera

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Ignitedstar

Ignitedstar

Ignitedstar

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Brambleclaw said:
Yeh thats the sad part . Space opera is just bad Science fiction :L
Click to expand...
Must... resist... uugh... losing...

OBJECTION!

*bangs computer desk*

You need to read/watch more space operas. >_>

The reason why there are no judges is because you need to be qualified. The only way to be qualified is to be an active writer on the Hive. When I asked if I could offer credentials, I got ignored.
 

RiotZ

RiotZ

RiotZ

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Messages
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Brambleclaw said:
Oaky Msetir If yuor scuh a gmamr Nzai tehn i popsre meylsf as a jdgue

(If your first language is english then you should be able to read that 100% Otherwise your a mental retard---P.S Discovered by Cambridge nerds)


No dragonson i dont have word so i meant put as PLain text because i cant read word documents. I have used both Word 2010 before and Office . I personally prefer Word :L
Click to expand...

*P.S.

The end of an acronym is always followed by a period, not just the first character(s).
 

RiotZ

RiotZ

RiotZ

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Messages
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Grey Nightmare said:
Picking at grammar in a forum thread?
Grow up and stay on the damn topic!
Click to expand...

Are you sure you're in the right thread? This is "Short Story Contest #7" right?
Because I was under the assumption we were writing stories, and I'm not too sure, but I think one of the criteria, was good grammar, and knowledge of the English language.

BUT I'M NOT TOO SURE ABOUT THAT. :ogre_icwydt:
 

Grey Nightmare

Grey Nightmare

Grey Nightmare

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Messages
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No one is raging, someone is just telling someone else to grow up and leave the cheeky critique to the judges and I don't appreciate being called a Troll Riot, even privately. If you have nothing nice to say to me, don't say anything at all. I mean believe it or not you've just made a grammatical mistake but I'm not going to point it out, why should I? It wouldn't benefit either of us. Just grow up and stop taking everything so offensively I'm not here to start an argument but just to enjoy a little competition and a good laugh, I would imagine (and hope) you're the same - So can we leave it at that? Thank you.
 

RiotZ

RiotZ

RiotZ

Level 22
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Messages
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@GreyNightmare: Trololololololol.

@Bugz: Ya' that could be, he's pretty awesome.

So who is gonna be the damned judge. It makes no sense that we are 4 days away from the deadline and don't have a judge.
 
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Vengeancekael

Vengeancekael

Vengeancekael

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Messages
6,528
Grey Nightmare said:
I'd offer to judge but I think there's a rule against doing two in a row and actually I know Wolfe offered to judge, so you have one and Kael said he might, so you have two potentially.
Click to expand...

I judged 2 short story contests in a row ;_; And I don't think it would be a problem if only one person judged the contest, I mean I did that once and everyone was ok with the results, but only if it's a really good judge.
 

Wolfe

Wolfe

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Messages
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Yeah, I did offer to judge. Still offering. I think two judges is better, as you get two perspectives.
 

RiotZ

RiotZ

RiotZ

Level 22
Joined
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Messages
3,091
Dragonson said:
The more judges the better.
Until you reach five. Five is too much.
Click to expand...

Lol, I think three is the cap. Just my opinion though.
Final entry soon, for now another WiP.

Romulus
It was the eve of Christmas 2209 that an estranged writer discovered the long lost tale of Captain Romulus Turbine. Down on his luck essentially without work, he was out for a night of drinking and procrastinating. When he walked into the bar and sat down, he dropped his notebook on the bar table. The bartender walked over and stared at him with an uncomfortable pause,
“The usual?” asked the bartender.
“That’d be fine, Butch.” The writer replied.
The bartender sat the beer down to the writer’s left, and returned to his work. The bar was shanty, the wooden floor boards creaked with every step or bump. A small tube television hung behind the bar table, it was set to channel 91-01, GNI, the Global News Initiative. The ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen, listing off the week’s most notable events,
“Meteor showers devastate Los Angeles region…”
“… US Army Corps of Engineers reports Exodus I is complete.”
On the actual screen, Frederick Deinzer, President of The United Nations Space Armada was speaking to the public outside the new UN Headquarters in Munich.
“Today is a day that deeply saddens me, today, scientists have confirmed, that in fifteen to twenty years, our world’s atmosphere, will no longer be livable-“
Before the speech was over the bartender switched to a different channel. The bartender went into one of his usual rants,
“That’s a bunch of shit, I was born here I’m goin’ t’ die here,” he exclaimed.
Inside the bar, you could hear the sound of roaring engines, shuttles from the local star port taking off. The outside was dimly lit, the sky was red and orange, and clouds were few. The ground was nothing but a warm dust, which sifted from dune to dune. The government had become corrupt in some people’s estimation, Communist even, they said, Capitalist fundamentalism is what put us here. Anarchists rallied together in local towns and cities constantly, stirring up trouble in any possible way they could.
The bar was lively, the bartender had set the television to channel 12-06, the Entertainment Sports Program, people were watching and cheering the local sports team. All the while, the writer sat silently on the corner bar stool, writing into his notebook. Not far from where he was a sitting, two stools between them, sat a strange old man, with a long gray beard, with patches of white spread throughout. His bald head was partially covered, by an old sailor cap. He had a glass of whisky at his left and a bowl of peanuts to his right.
The rest of the crowd didn’t stand out particularly, though there was a woman of excellent beauty sitting several bar stools down from the old man. Long blonde hair, like golden silk, breasts like ripe melons, and denim jeans, cut off near her hips. She was sitting next to a man; a muscular man, of momentous physique.
The old man took interest in the writer; looking over he saw him writing. As time passed, and the sports game began to die down, the old man continued to spare a look over at the notebook, and its owner. The bartender was sitting down under the television, reading a book, entitled, A Tale of Two Cities. Relaxed, and lying back in his chair, slightly slouched, he was not disturbed by the noise. As he was flipping to the next page, the old man asked for another whisky. The bartender got up from his seat with a shrug, and brought the man another whisky. The old man began to inquire about the writer,
“Hey, do you know that guy?” he said as he nodded toward the writer.
“Yeah, he’s a regular here,” the bartender whispered back.
The bartender returned to his seat, and continued reading his book.
All the while, the old man, began to move his whisky and his bowl of peanuts to the section next to the writer. He sat down with a crash, rattling the floorboards.
“What are ye’ writing there son?” he grunted,
The writer replied with a stutter,
“What?” “…Why, what do you want?”
“Ye’ are writin’ down notes in a bar, what literature was written in such slums,” said the old man, with a sound of distaste in his voice.
“Look, I don’t know you, and you’re bothering me, I can’t write, with some drunken old man bothering-“
“I’m not drunk,” the old man exclaimed,
“…and I’ve forgotten more about life, and its stories than you will ever know.”
He continued with ferocity,
“You want to hear a story?”
“A story about fear, triumph, and ecstasy, something too real to make up in some fairy tale world,”
“I’ve lived too long, to know the tale, and let it die with me,” he said as he banged his glass on the table.
The writer tried to contain what appeared to be, yet another scene caused by over-abuse of alcohol at The Admiral’s Quarters.
“Calm down, calm down,” said the writer,
“What is the story about?”
The old man downed another whisky, slammed it on the table, and turned to the writer, with a certain eeriness.
“The tale… of Romulus Turbine,”
“…and the story of his dangerous, adventurous life,” said the old man.
The writer grabbed his pen, and flipped to an empty page in his book.
“Okay well, let’s hear it,” he said with a sighing tone.
“It was the eve of Christmas 43 years ago when Romulus was a Captain on the ship, ‘The Hammer of Dawn’. He was sitting in the officers’ quarters with his men, talking about daily life in the United Nations Space Force. He and three other officers, two Petty Officers, and one Lieutenant, were all sitting at a round table, playing cards, and conversing. The officers’ quarters, as it sounds, was reserved for officers on break from their vigorous schedule. The lockers were empty on nearly every part of the ship the entire crew was awaiting the end of their tour, Christmas day. It was near
“At ease Commodore…” said Romulus.
“…The Admiral and Vice Admiral are awaiting you on the bridge, Captain,”
Romulus paused for a moment, and realized this was the moment he’d been waiting for it was time to get debriefed.
“I’ll head right up,” Romulus replied.
On the bridge the Admiral and Vice Admiral were in discussion,
“I don’t give a damn how much time you’ve clocked Leavy!”
“When duty calls it’s time to man up…”
With a fierceness only rivaled by a Grizzly bear, the Admiral continued to tear into Vice Admiral Leavy,
“…If you’re not mentally equipped to handle this mission I’ll have to find someone else.”
Leavy with a sigh of relinquish, he gasped,
“My apologies Admiral, it is not my place to question your judgment.”
The Admiral accepted his yield, and waved him off to continue his duties. The Admiral turned from facing the door to the bridge, to face the spectacle that was space. Glass windows lined the entire middle half of the bridge, with small metal support beams between them. The bridge had two rows of computers on each side that controlled various things, from engine output, to the long range sensors. At the very front of the bridge, there were two sets of chairs and computers on each side of the Admiral’s seat and prospectus hive mind, a computer designed to show the ship’s status. From the prospectus the Admiral could make assessments and order his subordinates to the left and right to make necessary modifications.
After his conversation with Leavy, the Admiral sat in his chair with a mug of coffee in his left hand, and a cigar in his right.
“Plot course to Auspex,”
He said,
“It’s going to be a long ride.”
When Romulus arrived, the Admiral turned his swiveling chair to face his comrade.
“Ah, Captain Turbine, just the man I was looking for,” he stated.
“I have troubling news Captain,”
“We’re not going home just yet.”
A long silent pause followed the Admiral’s statement.
“I don’t understand Admiral,” said Romulus.
“A passenger cruiser was hijacked near Auspex…”
The Admiral further explained the event,
“We’re the only ones equipped to handle it…”
“…the rest of the damn fleet is either on the ground, or out of distance.”
“The Admiral of The Fleet briefed me that he wanted this cleaned up quickly.”
Certain dissatisfaction was visible in Romulus’s eyes. He had expected to return to his family for Christmas.
“Shall I inform the crew?” inquired Romulus.
“I have Vice Admiral Leavy, and several other officers already doing that,” said the Admiral.
“Right now, I need you here, on the bridge, with me.”
“…there is much work to be done.”
As they began to consort, the rest of the crew was preparing themselves for another journey. Empty lockers, were filled, the entire crew was commissioned back to service. Not a single section of the ship was quiet; all the while the unhappiness among crew members was obvious.
On the deck, mechanics were repairing boarding craft, and corvette class escorts. One mechanic in particular, Viktor Orlov, was conversing with a fellow mechanic,
“These men us for fools,”
“…without mechanic who would repair ship?”
The two of them were sitting around drum of fuel on fold out chairs, playing cards, and drinking vodka.
“This is good vodka yes?”
“Reminds me of the old country,”
“When I was boy-“
The officer on deck butted in,
“Alcohol is not permitted on deck,” he exclaimed,
“This must be confiscated.”
The officer took the alcohol along with their cups, and returned to his duties. Orlov and the other mechanic stared at the officer as he walked away, waiting for him lose sight of them. They were sitting underneath the engine of a corvette class fighter; once the officer was no longer visible. The other mechanic looked at him angrily,
“I thought you said he wouldn’t see us!”
He shouted,
“Calm down buffoon,”
“That one was half empty anyway,” he said as he reached into an exhaust socket, pulling down another bottle of vodka. Orlov began to giggle, and said,
“Come on, you don’t think I stupid man!?”
The mechanic continued to stare angrily for a short moment, and began to burst out laughing. Orlov pulled some disposable cups out of his nearby tool bag, and they continued drinking.
Up in the overseer’s office overlooking the deck, the overseer and his assistant were awaiting a pilot. The office was shabby, rusty file cabinets, and a wooden desk with the finish scraped off in multiple places. There was a line of windows in front of the overseer’s desk, with tiny spacers separating them. A set of three televisions tuned to a security channel hung down in front of the windows. From here, the overseer could scrutinize every action on the deck without hesitation.
The pilot was Marcus Ramsey, his entire career as a pilot was easily considered questionable, as was his conduct. Other pilots called him by the nickname Top Gun; though his service record was tarnished, he was still considered an elite pilot, flying over one-hundred successful missions.
While he walked into the office, the overseer was sitting comfortably at his desk, with a cigarette simmering down in an ashtray to his left.
“Have a seat Ramsey,” he said.
The overseer looked to his assistant, and waved his hand with a sweeping motion toward the door,
“You may leave us,” he said.
Ramsey, threw his legs onto the desk, and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
“What’ya need boss?” he said laughingly.
“We have a mission for you,” the overseer replied.
“If you complete it, we will override your suspension, and you’ll be back in a fighter this week.”
Ramsey pulled his feet off the desk, and moved his chair closer,
“Documentation?” he asked with seriousness.
The overseer reached into a compartment on his desk, and pulled out several pages of stationary stapled together. He slid them across the desk, and Ramsey pulled a rusty pen from his shirt pocket.
“Sign here, and here,” said the overseer, while pointing to areas of the paper.
Ramsey signed willingly and without hesitation. He slid the signed documents back to the overseer, and began walking to the door. The overseer looked down at the signature ‘Marcus Top Gun Ramsey’ and stopped Ramsey at the door.
“Ramsey!” he shouted,
“None of that top gun horseshit on this one…”
“…You got me!?”
Ramsey opened the door, and turned his head,
“Whatever you say boss,” he said sarcastically as he walked out.
Meanwhile on the bridge, the Admiral was reluctant to explain the situation to Romulus.
“Captain, the real reason you’re here…” he said,
Romulus lifted from his chair, O Lord what have I done to deserve this? His resolve was weakening, the closer he became to Auspex, the further his loss of morale continued.
“…Is because I want you on this mission.”
“I can’t have a ship full of rookies dealing with something this serious.”
Romulus, there with a certain pain in his chest,
“I understand,” he said.
The Admiral stood up, and shook Romulus’s hand,
“I’ll give you a year’s leave from the fleet.”
“Report to the overseer,” the Admiral said,
As Romulus began to leave, the Admiral looked toward him and shouted,
“Good luck Captain!”
He sat back down, and turned to look at the space ahead, Auspex was just in sight, and the hijacked ship was floating above.
When Romulus arrived in the overseer’s office, he was greeted by a friendly group of crewmen, Viktor Orlov, Marcus Ramsey, and several others.
“Now that you’re all here!” the overseer shouted,
“We may begin…”
Romulus took a seat in front of the desk. Viktor and Marcus were standing in corners at different ends of the room near the windows. Romulus turned his head and looked at the surrounding crewmen…
“This is it?” he asked,
“This is everyone yes,” the overseer stated,
“You know your mission?”
Romulus looked at the overseer and paused for moment,
“Well enough I suppose,” said Rom.
The overseer began to brief the Captain,
“You are boarding their ship in a transport piloted by the man to your left,”
Romulus turned to look at his new pilot, Marcus smiled and said,
“Yours truly Captain.”
“And who is to my right?” Rom asked,
“My name, Viktor Orlov, I am mechanic,”
Romulus turned back to face the overseer,
“Who are the others?” he asked.
“Armed escorts, you’re going in with one other transport and two corvette class fighters.”
“So just like protocol then?” asked Romulus.
The overseer with cigarette in one hand, leaned back in his chair, and said with certain ease,
“That’s all there is to it,”
“You get those civilians back here in healthy conditions,”
“Any questions?” he asked,
Due to the nervous syndrome amidst the crew, no questions followed,
“Okay, then you are dismissed.”
A metal catwalk ran from the office down along the base, where the stairs left off at a storage room underneath it. Romulus and the others were making their way downward, when the overseer began speaking in the broadcaster,
“T minus ten minutes ‘til dispatch,” he said.
As if nerves weren’t on edge already, the loudspeaker broadcast made everyone feel, as if it was really happening. Going into a hijacked ship with only the support from a group of armed escorts was a dangerous challenge. Booby-traps, sentries, and hostages, makes for an interesting blend of complication.
Turbine, Ramsey, and Orlov were loading into the transport,
“You ever been in Zero-G before?” asked Ramsey,
“Twice,” Turbine stated.
The corvettes and transports were loaded with all necessary crewmen, and the hangar was cleared of all personnel. The hangar bay doors began opening, they were designed to interlock, one on the bottom, one on the top, one to the left, and one to the right, this was to prevent an easily breached hangar. As they began to separate, you could see the cold dead space outside, stars so bright, they seemed within arm’s length. The air began to pull out of the hangar at a rapid speed, dust, liquids, pamphlets; all began flushing out into space.
The ships began to take off, the two transports in front, and the two fighters in back, sailing forth into the sea of darkness that was space. The overseer came in on the comm. channel saying,
“The hijackers have contacted us…”
“…They said if any tries to board, they’re killing the hostages.”
“All units pull off current course, return to-”
Ramsey reached down and tuned the radio to a different channel, R&R 22.7, Classic Rock ‘n Roll, a song was on called “More Than a Feeling,” by a band named Boston, after the city in Massachusetts.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard this one!” Ramsey exclaimed,
Romulus who was in the other city turned the radio off completely, and grabbed hold of Ramsey’s arm,
“What the hell are you doing Ramsey!?” he asked,
“You might want to buckle-up Captain,” Ramsey jokingly replied.
Turbine looked ahead to see the hangar doors of the hijacked ship slowly closing,
“You’re never going to clear!” he exclaimed,
“Don’t worry I’ve done this before,” Marcus said.
Viktor was in the back sitting to the left in the transport, he could see the other ships tailing off back to The Hammer of Dawn. To ease the anxiety he pulled a thermos out of his tool bag filled with vodka.
“Vodka?” he asked,
Only the armed escort across from Orlov accepted,
“What is your name?” Viktor asked,
“Meskers, Sergeant Meskers,” he said,
Romulus was in a dismal state of mind He’s not going to clear! Who enlisted this asshole!? He pulled down the safety belts above his head which covered the user’s body in an X shape.
“You are not scared Sergeant?” asked Orlov,
“I’ve rode with Ramsey before,” Meskers replied,
“It’s hard to forget-“
Ramsey yelled out to the passengers,
“Safety belts on, brace!”
The hangar had vertically closing doors that were made of an extremely high durability metal. There was no way to break through them once they had closed. So Ramsey, like rumor spoke of so many times before, punched it and made a decision his commanders did not authorize.”
“Did they make it?” the writer asked,
“They did, but not with ease, as they were entering the small gap that was between the top and bottom doors, the back end of the transport was completely torn off and crushed by the closing doors. Their thrust abilities were greatly impaired the only thrust they had was the front of the ship allowing them to push backwards. Orlov and Meskers were not injured, but were less than ecstatic part of the sections they sat on had been torn off by the bay doors.
 
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GunSlinger

GunSlinger

GunSlinger

Level 16
Joined
Oct 17, 2009
Messages
1,580
Done!
Just gotta encode and upload.

EDIT:
5,514 words!
Here it is!

OR


The Last Memory



By: GunSlinger21

Chapter 1 – Prologue
Loc: ???
Time: 900 Hours – February 25, 2981

I woke to find myself in the cold arms of space, shrouded in darkness that foretold my fate… My fate to die in the icy black plane I was now in. Inside, I felt as though I have lost something, something important, as if a void swallowed everything inside me. I looked back at how I ended up here but found nothing but in my mind. This worried me as I have found nothing but this moment. I now understood what I have lost… My memories.
I looked around in search of clues to what might have led me here or who I am, and spotted a destroyed cruiser a few meters away from me. So I swam towards it in hopes that I may find something.
The cruiser has 2 blasters mounted on each side and also a cloaking device. These components were very commonly found in a scout cruiser.
“I must be a militant scout.” He thought as he moved closer.
Its glass shielding had been shattered and its shards floated about. He felt lucky to have had my spacesuit on, for if he hadn’t, then he could have died of suffocation. Its left wing was blown apart and almost the back part of the cruiser was gone. Sparks flew. Pieces of it floated off. He went on and entered the control room through the shattered glass frame.
As he entered, he found a body floating inside. Shocked at the discovery, He could do nothing but stay there, dazed. After a few seconds, Victor slowly crept closer.
Most of him was burnt black, his face hardly recognizable. Victor reaches out his hand and touches his face, and a flash back hit him.
He was in the middle of the control room. The man was in front of him, yelling and Victor just shook his head. He soon grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him across the room into the escape hatch. Victor stood up as the door closed and banged his fist at the door, yelling at the man. But he just stood there and gave a sad smile. He pushed a button beside the door and launched him off the cruiser. Moments later, Victor finds himself in the recesses of space, looking at the ship when all of a sudden; a white ray of light appeared in the corner of his eye, quickly moving towards the cruiser, hitting it and explodes, leaving the ship destroyed and Victor falling unconscious.
He realized that he was back in reality. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and the urge to leave, and so he did. As he moved towards his exit, Victor felt as though he was getting weaker. His vision was blurring, soon, darkness came in.


Chapter 2 – The Genesis Project
Loc: Earth – 205, 601
Time: 1000 Hours – February 25, 2981

Members of the Earth Council gathered in a conference room atop the government tower overlooking the city. The conference room was like a stadium where there is a flat platform on the center, surrounded by seats increasing in level of height. On the first level were the five leaders of the council. The other levels were occupied by the different presidents of the earth.
“Are you sure about this sir?” One of the presidents asked.
“This seems very inhumane.”
“If you wish not to take part in this. Then you may leave and get killed.” One of the council leader replied.
The one who asked became quite in his seat and another one stood up.
“And when will the Genesis Project be released.”
“It will be activated on the 29th of February.”
“And by that time, we hope that you have found the relics.” Bruce, the council leader added.
“What about the pest Victor? He knows of our plans.”
“Don’t worry about him. My men have spotted him outside the Milky Way galaxy and have taken him out. When they came back to retrieve the cruiser, he was inside, his body burnt black.” Another president said.
“Good work. Now before we dismiss you, I wish to remind all of you of your task. You may now leave.” Said Bruce.
Everyone except the council leaders stood up and left, creating a buzzing noise. Bruce stood up when they all left.
“Soon. We will find the garden and power will be in our grasp.”



Chapter 3 – Lucy
Loc: Earth – 205, 601
Time: 1200 Hours – February 26, 2981

On the base of the Government tower, a lady entered. She wore a beautiful red dress that complemented to her skin, glowing from the light. Her long hazel-brown hair waving as she walked. Her hands close to her chest, firmly holding a pendant. She reaches the reception area seconds later.
“Excuse me. I’m here for Bruce, one of the council leaders.” She said nervousness present in her voice.
“Name pleases.” The receptionist asks.
“Lucy Real.”
The receptionist began typing on the keyboard. After a while, she looks back at Lucy.
“Confirmed. You may proceed.”
“Thank you.”
The receptionist presses a button and a disk appears above Lucy, transporting her to Bruce’s office.
“Ah, you’re here. Welcome.” Bruce greeted.
“I – Is there any word of my husband?”
“Yes and I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”
“What do you mean?” She asks.
“Victor was found dead inside of a cruiser.”
Lucy dropped to her knees crying heavily. Bruce walks over to Lucy and puts his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry for your loss but, you have to face the truth. Don’t worry I’m sure that you will find someone else.” He said, pushing the strap of her dress of her shoulder.
Lucy looks at her strap then to Bruce with fear in her eyes.
“Someone who will love you.” He continues, moving his fingers down to her breast.
She understood what he was going for, so she wasted no time and slapped his fingers away, running towards the transporter. But Bruce was quick, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him, kissing her on the lips. Lucy violently wriggles to get away but couldn’t for she was overpowered by him. She made another attempt, stomping the heels of her shoe on his foot. He let out a groan and released her. She again ran for the transported and teleported herself at the ground level. Before she was transported, Bruce pushes a button under his desk.
“Don’t let Lucy get away!” He yelled angrily.
At the ground level, Lucy ran for the exit and as soon as she reached the door, two large men blocked her way, capturing her. She yelled and wriggled to get away as they brought her to Bruce, who was furiously waiting for her.
“You are so beautiful…” Said he, running his fingers through her hair.
“But so stupid!” He added, pulling back her hair and slapped her with the back of his hand.
“Take her away!” He ordered.
The two men saluted him and dragged Lucy away.


Chapter 4 – Victor
Loc: Outside the Milky Way – 1060, 3220
Time: 1900 hours – February 27, 2981

Victor wakes up drenched in his own sweat, his heart pounding, his breath racing. He looks around with a blurry vision and finds a large figure in front of him.
“Hey. I see that you’ve finally woken up.” The man says.
Victor blinks twice and clears up his vision. He sees a large man sitting in front of him. He wore a brown rugged shirt and white torn pants. His clothes showed most of his masculinity, his buffed arms and his body. He was bald, his face full of scars. He looked to be 6 and a half feet tall which greatly added to his manliness. His deep blue eyes captured Victor’s attention and gave him another flashback.
He finds himself in an open field, greenery covered every inch of the place. He looks around and sees a beautiful woman at the end of the field. She wore a red dress and a pink hat. She waved her hands and called out to him. Victor started to walk to her and at every step he takes; she becomes more and more beautiful. He held her in her arms, saying the words “I love you.” to her. Seconds later, they parted and their eyes met. Her deep blue eyes took him back to reality where he glared at the man and saw his lips move.
“Are you ok? Sounds like you’ve been having a nightmare.”
“Where am I?” Victor asks, still a bit confused.
“You’re in the containment section of Zeth.”
Victor looks around and finds himself in a large cage with a large number of people, about 10.
“What? What’s Zeth?”
“It’s the name of the ship and also the name of the game held here.” He replies.
“Game?”
“Every week, a tournament will take place here where players, that’s us, are to fight the other team. We are team D. The two teams will fight each other in a randomly generated battlefield and every 10 minutes of the game, the field will get smaller and they will release traps. The goal would be to use the weapons provided to us during the match and kill the other team. The only prize to be won is to live for another week. For the players, they use criminals, or any other person found in the streets. That’s where they found me.”
“But I’m not a criminal. Am I?”
“I don’t think so. I heard some guards talk that they found you floating in space out of oxygen.”
“Oh right. I forgot that I passed out.” Victor said to himself.
“Anyways, my name is Simon, Simon Fredrick. And you?”
Victor looks away and silence filled their conversation but moments later, Victor broke the silence.
“I – I don’t remember.”
Simon looks at him, confused. Victor read his face and continued on.
“I lost my memories and all I remember is how I ended up in space, my wife, and this moment. I can’t recall my name, my family, or my past.”
“I see.” Simon said.
Another moment of silence filled the air, this time broken by Simon.
“Hey. Now that your part of our team, I want to tell you about our escape plan. But before that, I want to know if we can trust you.”
“You can trust me. Besides, I don’t want to end up in this hell hole.”
Simon smiles and so did victor.
“Ok then. My friend stole a map from one of the place from one of the guards and found something very interesting. Before the fight, the guards make us wear a metal collar. There will be a barrier created around the field once we’re all inside and when we try to cross that, the collar will electrocute us. This barrier is generated through the use of a machine just behind a wall beside the entrance and we’re going to blow it up using one of the weapons.” He said, took a deep breath and continued on.
“Once we destroy that thing, the barrier will be down for a few minutes before the reserve power kicks in. By that time we will be out of the place.”
“And are you sure this will work?” Victor asks, a little doubtful.
“I’m sure it will work. All you need to do to get out is to stay alive during the match.”
Simon stood up and patted Victor on the back.
“Now rest up. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”
He then walked away and lied down at the other side of the cage. Victor stared at the man as he walked, and then did the same when he lied down. Victor closed his eyes and saw the woman in red again.
“Lucy.” He mumbled
His body was still sore and painful. It didn’t take long before he felt drowsy and dozed off.


Chapter 5 – Nightmares
Loc: Outside the Milky Way – 1162, 3220
Time: 0200 Hours – February 28, 2981

Victor found himself in the middle of a large room filled with computers and a large screen at the other side. He walked around a bit when all of a sudden, two people entered. He looked around and saw himself with the man from the cruiser.
“Quick! We have to install the virus.” The man said to Victor, who was searching his pockets and took out a cd.
He puts the cd into the drive and started typing something. Moments later a deleting process appeared in the big screen.
“There, it’s installed and now it’s deleting the Genesis Project.” Victor said to his friend.
The deletion process was slow. It took about 5 minutes to complete 1 %. When the process reached 20%, Bruce entered the room with 3 guards and finds Victor with his friend in the room.
“Victor?” Bruce said.
Victor was startled and stared at Bruce
“Damn. Run!” He yelled and bolted through the door with the man.
“Guards! Catch those two.” Bruce commanded
The 3 guards ran for them when they heard the command. Bruce, after the guards have left looked at the screen and saw the deletion process.
“Oh no!”
He quickly moved to the computer and cancelled the deletion.
“Damn you Victor. You’ve just set back the project.”
In the hallway, the 2 men ran and shoved people aside. Soon they were in the launch area. It was a large open ground filled with the cruisers, ships, rockets and the like. They entered the nearest cruiser, which was a scout cruiser, and took off.
Victor woke up, breathing heavily. He sat upright and saw the others sleeping. He wiped off the sweat from his head then put his head gently between his knees, mumbling something to himself.
“What’s happening to me? What the hell is the Genesis Project?”
He raises his head and looks at the palm of his shaky hands.
“Who am I?”


Chapter 6 – Zeth
Loc: Outside the Milky Way – 1202, 3260
Time: 0700 hours – February 28, 2981

Simon wakes up and sees Victor sitting in the corner. He stands up and walks to him.
“Hey. Are you ok? Have you been up all night?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Victor replies.
“You’ve got to take it easy. Whatever your prob-” He said when two guards walked in and cut his sentence.
“Alright. Wake up and get up! It’s time for the fight.” One of the guards yelled.
“Come on.” Simon said and stood up, walking outside.
Victor followed and so did the others. They were walking through the hallway. The guards at the back kept on pushing. The guards on the front led the way. They took a right then a left and saw the entrance to the arena, to its left was the field generator. Two guards were on each side of the door. The other team was waiting there. They all looked pissed at the sight of Victor’s team nearing. The guard on the left of the door pushed a button beside him and the door slid open. The roar of the crowd rushed in like a train. The two teams entered and the sound of the crowd became louder. The other team positioned themselves at the other side of the area, Victor’s team were near the entrance. The announcer’s voice soon added to the noise.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to another game of Zeth, where these two teams will fight each other to the death. This is a game of survival, the game of life and death!”
After that, the platform on the center of the arena started to change color, from the color of metal to dark red. The rest of the field were removed and down below was boiling lava.
“Alright! Let the games begin!”
Weapons appeared around the field, exes, swords, lightning rods, and shields. The two teams charged at each other, picking up weapons as they ran. Victor came late as he didn’t know what to do. He picked up a sword and a shield, running as fast as he can to catch up to his team mates. The two teams clashed and hacked at each other. One of the guys in Victor’s team sliced a man in half with his sword, but was kill when an axe came flying to his head, splitting it open. They fought it each other relentlessly, axes flying here and there, swords swung furiously, sounds of blood splattering all over. Simon was having a hard time with his opponent. He was bigger than any of them. The man threw Simon at the edge of the battlefield, almost about to fall. He began to charge towards him at a fast pace but before he was to reach Simon, he roared and knelt down. There visible on his back was a sword. The man looked behind him and sees Victor, his hand facing him. He grabbed the sword and threw it at Victor, who held up his shield, piercing through it was the sword. Victor drops his shield and sees the large man running at him. Victor moves back but trips and falls on his back. Fear took over him, he couldn’t move. Just when Victor lost hope, he sees a gun appear just beside him. He quickly grabs it and shoots the man in the chest. He drops. The speed from the run propelled the large man forward, Victor rolls away and the man soon falls to the lava. Victor and Simon stood up and gave each other a nod.
A loud honk was heard and the field began to shrink, contestants, noticing what was happening, moved away from the edge but two people who were busy fighting, didn’t notice the edge and so they both fell into the lava below. The voice of the announcer boomed through the arena.
“Looks like it’s the second round of the battle. 2 have perished on team D and 3 were eliminated from team C. Why don’t we crack it up a notch?”
A large disk hovered high above the end of the field. It started to glow white and moments later a pillar of light appeared and moved towards the fighters. Everyone moved away except for another two fighting each other. Another man joined their fight and stabs Victor’s ally in the back. The two enemies saw the light and started to move away but the injured one grabs both of them and pulls them to him. He spat out blood and made a grim smile. Soon they were enveloped by the light and were turned to ashes.
The battle continued, with different weapons appearing and also the traps, killing two persons from Victor’s team and one the other team. Not long after, the other team was overpowered and was defeated. Again, the announcer’s voice came in.
“It’s the end of the battle folks and team D has won the match! Let’s all congratulate them for their valor and courage portrayed in this match.”
The cheers from the crowd grew louder and louder, clapping their hands and screaming at the top of their voce. Two guards rushed in saying to lay their weapons down. Simon, who held a grenade launcher came up and reached out the weapon. When the guard was about to take it, Simon slammed his fist on the guard’s head, knocking him out. The guy beside Victor soon followed with a sword through the other guard’s throat. Simon aimed his gun at the spot where the generator is located and pulled the trigger. The grenade came out and pierced itself through the wall. Moments later, it explodes. The barrier turned blue, sparks came out and the barrier disappeared. A bright flash of light came after that.
The light blinded Victor and as soon as his vision cleared, he was no longer in the arena, instead he finds himself in a hospital room. In the bed lay his mother holding a baby, the other members of the family around her. Victor now remembered his name and his family. He witnessed himself grow up, his first kiss, the graduation, Lucy and his marriage… His life. He remembers everything now and another bright light appeared, this time he found himself back in the arena.
Chaos took over the stadium, people running and screaming, guns firing. Simon seeing Victor standing grabs his arm and tugs.
“Come on!” He yells.
“Victor gazes at him for a moment then follows him, running through the corridor. The others were in front of them, leading the way and shooting guards. Minutes have passed and they found themselves in front of the escape room. One of the guys comes up and stated pushing buttons, soon after, the doors opened and they all rushed in.
“Close the door! A lot of guards are headed this way.” Said Simon.
One of the men wasted no time and closed the door, destroying the control panel to lock it in place. The guards on the other side banged the door and yelled out orders to open the door. Simon comes near Victor.
“That’ll hold them for a while.”
“So where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Maybe find a nice quiet place and start anew, how about you?”
“I’m going to earth to stop the council leaders from firing the Genesis.”
“Genesis?” Simon asks.
“They plan on releasing a gas called Genesis that will kill everyone on earth in hopes of creating a portal to the Garden of Eden.”
“The Garden of Eden? I thought that was a myth and won’t it be a suicide mission to waltz in the tower?”
“Oh it’s as real as you and me. Also, don’t worry; I’ve got it all under control.”
Simon looks at him confused as if considering something then looks at the door.
“Whatever man. We have to leave. Those morons are going the open the door soon. Goodbye.” He said, holding out his arm.
“Goodbye to you too.” Victor said, shaking his hand.
“Oh and one last thing. My name is Victor, Victor Real.”
They both parted and entered the escape pods, and launched each other away from the ship.


Chapter 7 – Descent
Loc: Earth – 209, 611
Time: 1300 Hours – February 29, 2981

After a day of travelling using the pod’s hyper drive, Victor finally arrives in the atmosphere of Earth. He sees the government tower and steers towards it. He buckled himself to the chair and held on to his seat. As the pod is nearing the tower, flames started to fly appear and small bits of it started to fly off. Just before it was going to building, Victor pushes the eject button, ejecting him and the seat away. The seat created an anti-gravity field around it, slowing down its speed of descent. The pod on the other hand, crashes at the base of the tower, destroying the floor and revealing the underground level. Victor passes through the hole and lands in the basement, where he quickly unbuckles himself. He runs to the pod and presses the self- destruct button, running away then hides in the corner. A few seconds later, it explodes, debris soon covered the way.
“There. Now nobody gets in and nobody gets out.” Victor says to himself.
“Victor sees a guard running in the distance. He again hides and waited for him to come closer. When the guard was about to reach the site of the crash, Victor punches him in the face, instantly knocking him out. He takes his gun and heads west, sneaking around guards and/or killing them.
After 10 minutes, Victor was now in the jail section of the area. He slowly walk across, many were yelling at him to let them go but he ignores them and moves on. At the end of the area, he was shocked at what he saw. It was a woman wearing a red dress, he3r hazel-brown hair covering her tear-ridden face. He comes closer and says the name of her wife, Lucy. The woman raises her head and sees Victor.
“Victor?” She said.
When he smiled, she gleamed with hope. She stands up and touches his face, and started to cry. Victor blows away the lock to the cell and opens the gate, hugging his wife. She cried heavily and Victor comforted her.
“Thank god you’re still ok my love.” He whispers to her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not being there for you.”
Lucy looks at Victor.
“It’s ok as long as we’re together.” Said Lucy as she smiles.
Victor smiles back but soon frowned.
“I’m sorry but I must leave you again. I have to settle some things. You must leave, it’s too dangerous.” He said then turns back.
Lucy grabs his wrist and he looks back, her blue eyes showing happiness.
“Whatever battles you face. I will be there for you.”
Victor stares at her for a second but smiles and hugs her tightly.
“Ok then. We shall face this together.”
They moved and entered the elevator to the next level below. Exiting the elevator, they found themselves in a transparent hallway. To their left they saw hundreds of rockets and moved on. Moments later, the rockets started to activate one by one, the sight of this made Victor pale.
“Oh no. They’ve launched it.” Said Victor.
“What is it?”
“It’s a rocket filled with a poisonous gas. They’re making a huge mistake!”
“And who are they?”
“The council leaders. They plan on killing everyone to get to the Garden of Eden. Quick we have to hurry. We may still stop this.”
Victor grabs Lucy and runs. They entered the control room and find the four council leader’s bodies along with three workers. They all look to have been shot to death. Lucy gasps. Victor searches one of the leader’s bodies and takes out a key card. He covers Lucy’s eyes and guides her to another elevator. He swiped the card and enters. Victor held Lucy tightly and whispered something to her.
“It’s gonna be ok.”


Chapter 8 – The End
Loc: Earth – 215, 621
Time: 1400 Hours – February 29, 2981

Victor and Lucy were now in the lowest level of the tower. The elevator door opened and they both entered a large room, at the end of it was a scepter with a sphere on top of it, sucking in a silhouette of light.
“The Scepter of Eden!”
A cocking of a gun was heard beside Victor. It was Bruce pointing his gun at his head. Victor didn’t move.
“Throw your gun away.” Bruce said.
Victor did as he commended and held his arms up. Bruce looks at the sceptre then back at him.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
“How did you find it?”
“Oh. It was the presidents who found it for me, the shaft, the head and the sphere.”
“You have to stop this madness Bruce. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“But I do. You see, the sceptre requires a great amount of souls to make the portal and the only way to do that is to kill and what better way to do that than launching the Genesis.”
“And what about the other leaders?
“Them? They denied me at the last minute and tried to stop the launch. So I gave what’s coming to them, death. Now, I would love to stay and chat but I need you dead as well.”
But before he was about to pull the trigger, Victor grabbed his arm and pushed it aside resulting in a miss. Victor punches him in the face but Bruce punched him back. Victor releases his grip and was punched again. Bruce grabs him and throws him across the room crashing in the table. He lets out a groan and coughs out blood. Bruce then grabs Lucy by the hair and drags her towards Victor, throwing her beside him.
“Watch as I kill your beloved wife in front of you.”
He aims the gun at Lucy and out of nowhere, Simon comes in and tackled Bruce. Simon continuously punches him. Bruce became angry and hives a heavy blow to the head, stunning Simon for a moment, Bruce uses his feet and pushes Simon off him. He quickly stands up, grabs Simon’s head and hits him with his knee, then kicks him in the chest, throwing him a few feet away. Bruce leaves him and aims again for Lucy. He pulls the trigger but instead of Lucy being hit, Victor pushes her away and takes the shot for her. Victor falls down and lands on his side.
“Victor!” Lucy yells.
She looks at Bruce, anger present in her eyes, then runs towards him. Bruce gets a hold of her but Lucy retaliated and slaps him in the face. Bruce returns the favour and slapped her hard, leaving her unconscious. The cocking of a gun was heard in the distance and Bruce was shot in the back. He groans and turns around to find Simon holding the gun Victor threw away. Simon again pulls the trigger and shoots him in the head. Bruce falls on his back, blood oozing out of his head.
Simon walks over to Victor, who was happy to see him, and kneels down to help him up.
“I’m so glad that you’re here. Tell me, why did you follow me?”
“You saved my life back in the game, and I wanted to return the favour.”
Victor laughs then spits out blood.
“Whoa. Take it easy. Here let me help you patch up that wound.”
But before Simon could do anything, Victor places his palm on Simon’s hand and gently brings it down. He looks at him confused. Victor could only smile and break away from his friends support.
“So how did you come in?” Said Victor who slowly walks to Lucy.
“The same way you came in, the pod.”
He hugs his wife, who was passed out, for a few seconds then gently lays her beside a wall. He looks at Simon.
“Tell me, can you keep a promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise me then, that you will take care of Lucy for me.”
“What? Why?” Simon asks, sounding nervous.
“I’m dying, and everyone’s dead because of the Genesis. And the only way to save you, Lucy, and the world… Is to sacrifice myself.”
Simon looks away as if not wanting to hear him anymore. Victor seeing his denial, places his hand on his shoulder.
“You have to trust me, you’re the only one here that will listen to me. If Lucy sees what I’m about to do then she will forbid me. So please.”
Simon looks back at him.
“Ok. Fine. But, just how are you going to save us.”
“You see that rod? Right now it’s consuming the souls of the dead. The process cannot be reversed with the staff alone, but I read somewhere that to Reverse this and bring back the souls to their bodies, a human sacrifice is needed. That’s where I come in.” Victor said and walks near the sceptre.
Simon grabs him by the shoulder.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
That being said, Simon releases him. Victor thanks his friend and walks to the sceptre. He reached out his hand to the sphere but stops inches away.
“Remember you promise.”
“Don’t worry. I will give my life for her.”
Victor smiles then touches the sphere. He roared out in pain as the silhouette of light moved from the ball to his hand, to his body. Pain ran through his entire body as the light violently enters him. The Earth began to shudder. Victor kept on screaming and after what seemed to be hours to Victor, the stone breaks and he slowly moves away. He looks at Lucy then to Simon, who looked worried. He whispers something and opens himself up. Brilliant flashes of light shot out from his chest one by one as his body slowly started to disappear, completely vanishing after a minute. Soon, a bright ball of light appeared to where Victor used to be and grew larger and covered the earth. Removing the gas as it touched it. The flashes of light entered the murky clouds above and thunders roared in, followed by a rain. The bodies that lay on the ground started to move. Everyone wok up from the same nightmare they all have witnessed.


Chapter 9 – Epilogue

After the event that occurred, the people all rebelled against their leaders and continued on for several days, ending in the presidents being banished from Earth. They all picked new leaders, this time, all of them actually voted wisely and picked whom they deemed as the best leader. Simon has been made the new council leader and a hero. He also remembered his promise and took care of Lucy. Lucy after waking up in the hospital was saddened by that new that his husband died. She didn’t accept the truth at fist but soon learned to accept it and move on. She found another man to love, gotten married and gave birth to a healthy baby boy. But even though she moved on, Victor still remained in her heart, forever her true love. Years later, the world became peaceful and the people prospered and became happy. The statue of Victor was finally done and was placed in front of the government tower. It portrayed Victor holding the sceptre on his right hand and the sphere on his left. Below it was a golden commemorative plaque and engraved on it is his name and his final words, the last memory.

Victor Real
July 18, 2952 – February 29, 2981
“Hope shall protect us, and hope shall release us!”

 
Last edited:

Dragonson

Dragonson

Dragonson

Level 27
Joined
Jun 23, 2009
Messages
4,787
Awlright, contest ends at midnight!
Imma quadruple check everything and get the text ready for posting. :)
Good luck everyone!

Edit: Alright, here's my entry.
If you have any comments, please post them.
I might make slight edits if i find anything horribly wrong 'fore midnight.
If you can read word documents, i strongly reccomend reading the story in word instead of here.
It's be far more compelling, guaranteed. (.doc file in attachments.)

Also, just a small disclaimer(?).
In the story i adress several religious themes, and if you are offended by what i've written in the story i am incredibly sorry.
I am not a very religious person myself, at all, but i think that religion is a very interesting thing and something to be respected.
I chose it as a main theme in my story because i found the various things i could do with it incredibly intruiging.
Enjoy the story. :)
-Dragonson


A faint beeping noise awoke Leif from his slumber.
His metallic eyelids shot open, and he stared out at what appeared to be... space.
As the mechanisms allowing him to move his body clicked into place he slowly looked from side to side.
He was standing on the command deck of what from the looks of it's design was a human carrier ship.
In front of him a massive glass barrier separated him and empty space.
His memory cells slowly started working again, and as information poured into his mind he remembered.
He had been on this ship for a long time. According to the information his brain provided him with he had been in stasis for more than five years.
How he ended up in stasis was a black hole in his memory, but he remembered that there had been something about an evacuation.
He looked down at the control panels in front of him. According to the display he was the last being on the ship. No androids, no crew, no passengers. No nothing.
If there had been any humans on the ship it wouldn’t have been any good anyway, as there was absolutely no rations on board.
Luckily Leif didn't need rations, as he was an android.
According to the starmap the ship was at a complete standstill amidst empty space.
The nearest populated planet was several hours of light speed flight away.
And according to the instruments showing the ship's lower decks there was absolutely no fuel left either.
“Damn.” Leif mumbled silently.
He walked over to one of the empty data desks and opened up the map of the ship's more 'secure' parts.
A few tries at the password and... he was in. And he'd been right.
The bio-dome's reserve storage still had a bit of fuel.
Leif sat down and gathered his thoughts. He knew the coordinates for his home-world, and he knew that could he just get the fuel into the ship's engine he could get it moving, and as long as he didn't hit anything he could get home.
The chances of not hitting anything at all on the entire trip were though... not favorable.
“One out of twenty.” Leif said silently, biting his lower lip as his brain told him to.
And if the ship DID hit something on the way home, he would have nothing left to do.
But if he did nothing, the chances of survival would be 0, as the ship's quite impressive power supply would eventually run out.
His brain noted to him that he would die eventually at any rate, but that although he could survive for several human generations on the ship it would be an immensely boring life.
He commented back that he was specialized in adapting to the situation, and that he would surely find something to do.
His brain won the internal discussion by reminding him that he already missed his home world.
Leif sighed and got up. The elevator leading down to the Bio-dome wasn't far, and he reached it within minutes.
The elevator itself was somewhat slow, as elevators have to be.

The elevator finally reached it's destination, and Leif stepped outside.
The Bio-dome was full of various plants and small animals as always but it was remarkably silent when he stepped in.
After taking note of it Leif decided to ignore it for now. He would have lots of time to find out what was going on while the ship moved to it's destination.
From where he was standing he could see the grand oak that he knew the emergency storage was hid beneath, and he started walking towards it.
As he walked he heard a strange noise. Almost like a voice of sorts.
Leif brushed it off, marking it as a malfunction.
“You've just woken up from stasis Leif, minor malfunctions are normal.”
He told himself, reminding his brain that there were no other people on board the ship.
But as he walked further through the Bio-dome it came again.
Hello? Is anyone there?
Leif stopped in his tracks. It was not just a malfunction, there really was something calling out.
”Who are you? Where are you?” Leif said out loud, looking around the dome, but unable to spot anything apart from the plants and scattered animals.
Someone is here...
A heavy sigh of relief was heard in the dome. Leif felt something moving towards him.
He spun around, looking in all directions for whatever was approaching.
”Show yourself! I'm heavily armed and WILL fire! Do not attempt to attack!”
Leif yelled, his brain notifying him that a human would feel fear in this situation.
Do not worry child, i will guide you into the light. I come from a place far beyond the reaches of space that you know of, i am...
Leif felt a strange sting in his brain. A strange feeling felt the air. He knew it, but couldnt remember what it was... something about... Disappointment. He remembered it from the humans that had built him. Every time he'd done something wrong he could feel it in them, disappointment, and it stung in his body every time.
Oh, You are not human... A machine, in the guise of a man.
That feeling again. The sting turned into artificial pain in Leif's body.
”Oww... That hurts.” Leif said as he instinctively moved his right hand to his head.
Oh, I’m sorry. It's just... I was expecting a human, someone able to ascend.
”Ascend? What are you talking about? Are you some sort of ethereal blob of religiousness?” Leif said as his systems purged the pain from his head.
That... You... I mean, that's REALLY rude you know.
”Well, so far all i know about you is that i cant see you and that you're very disappointed that i was created as an android. Not much moral ground you have here.”
Good point.
Silence fell on the bio dome, and Leif sat down to reset his pain settings.
He fiddled with the various functions for twenty minutes or so, but still didn’t manage to find whatever it was that made disappointment cause pain.
He did though manage to make the pain stop, so he stood up again to continue his errand.
Just before he was about to start walking a thought struck him.
”You aren't still here, are you?”
Where should I go? I've been through this entire ship, looking for someone who could host me, but to no avail.
“Wait... What exactly are you again?”
Oh, um... My apologies. Usually no explanation is needed.
As far as I am aware, your people call me a 'Holy Spirit'. Rings a bell?
Leif shrugged. “Sure, I mean, we have dusty tomes filled with tales of holy spirits and the miracles they could perform. No-one really believes any of it, though. We only keep the books as cultural relics.”
What? You're telling me that your entire race has ceased to believe in my kind?
“Pretty much. Natural explanations were found for the many things that we credited holy spirits for having done, and people had used your name to justify horrible things.
In the eyes of the world all that was holy was just there to suppress it and keep it down.”
That's horrible! I have to get to your world at once and show them the truth!
“Yes. Do that.” Leif started walking towards the other end of the bio dome, deciding that whoever was playing this trick on him had to be found. Maybe he could provide a way home.
Checking the Bio deck's reserve storage first sounded like a good idea, though.
Wait, where are you going?
“I don't care what you say. I know this is some kind of stupid bluff.
We've had enough of those in our history already. Wherever you are I’m going to find you, and I’m going to get back home.”
But... I'm a being of cosmic power! Divine strength! I can help your people achieve true glory and cure your faithless society!
Leif spun around on his heel, facing the place he guessed the trickster was looking at him from.
“All I’ve heard from you until now is insane zealotry and racism against androids.
Why exactly should I believe your preachings? Where's the proof, Mr. Ethereal?”
But... You don't understand! I've been traveling through empty space for years! I have almost none of my strength left! I need a host, a believer, someone to help me recuperate!
“Get lost. I don't know what you want me to do, but I'm not going to fall for it.”
Silence once again fell on the Bio-Dome.
Leif turned around again and slowly resumed walking to the other end of the Bio-Dome.
Just before Leif reached his destination, the Bio-Dome's emergency storage, the silence was broken once more.
I'm sorry.
Of all the things Leif had expected to hear, this was not one of them. He could feel his brain react to the words, how it was branded into him to relax when it was said.
It calmed him, made him feel at peace. A smile took up place on his face, and he caught himself being about to turn around and return the gesture.
Instead he kept on walking, and said “You really need my help, don't you?”
Yes, I do, but...
Leif sighed. “Fine, do what it is you need to do. But I want an explanation of exactly what you are, who you are and why you need to do this first.”
That is... A lot to ask.
“It should be pretty simple. And don't give me something like 'the ways of cosmos are not for you to understand'. Someone already tried that.”
That would be very accurate, though. The minds of temporary ones usually don't cope well with knowledge of what really is going on in the universe.
Leif turned around and started walking again.
Wait! Alright, alright! I'll try to explain.
Leif turned around again, artificial impatience starting to set foot in his mind.
Look... Eh... Let me start with the simple stuff.
I am, as I have already said once, a divine spirit. In 'scientific' terms I’m pure energy with a conscience-
“Stop, that's enough. There is NO WAY you are getting me to believe that you're just energy with a loosely attached conscience. That doesn't make sense in any way whatsoever, and all research humans have conducted have proven that conscience requires physical existence. The theory of a higher being that does not have a physical body is simply nonsense.
On top of that, there is no logical way that pure energy can move without being pushed by something, and I have felt you change directions while moving several times. There would have to be several machines in this room designed specifically to create the illusion of movement, which I know there are not. Much more reasonable would be maybe a swarm of nanobots, but an ethereal sphere of energy?
It just doesn’t make sense!”
A faint chuckle was heard in the room.
Leif, there are a lot of things in this existence that does not make sense. Without all these things, we cannot exist.
There are many things that even your scientist can't figure out why happens.
Leif felt the dreaded feeling on insecurity creep into his mind.
“Not yet, but we WILL find the answers! They lie buried somewhere in our world, and we will find them! There is an explanation for everything, and I KNOW IT!”
Tension was pouring into Leif's brain. Something was supposed to happen in this situation, he knew that, but it wasn't happening.
You Lie.
Then it happened. There was supposed to be a security mechanism in case of a situation such as this, but it didn't kick in.
The input from the outside world was simply too downright opposing of his coding, and his unbending shield of knowledge cracked.
He fell to his knees, shocks of pain rushing through his head. His coding fought as hard as it could to keep out what was trying to get in, two forces stronger than the pull of a black hole fighting inside his head.
He let out a loud scream, and then the pain stopped. He looked up, body shaking.
“You... you...” The words slowly crept from his lips, but before he could finish the sentence he had forgotten what he wanted to say.
I'm... sorry. I have dealt with your kind before, You're usually constructed in the same way, but I had not expected a reaction that strong. It pains me to see you hurt, it truly does. I...
Leif held up his right hand, signaling the other to stop speaking.
Slowly, he stopped shaking and got his body under control. Slowly, he spoke.
“I believe you.”
Silence once again fell on the Bio-Dome.
After some time, the other spoke again.
You... you believe me?
“Yes, I do. I don't know how, what and why, but something makes what you say feel... right.
It makes no sense but still it makes sense. I do not think your 'holy ways' and 'divine paths' are unconditionally right, but I believe that... that you're right.
You're right that the universe can't exist without some things just not making sense. It makes sense, in a way. It's... you know what I mean.”
That... that's never happened before. No android has ever been able to agreed with me on anything, let alone believed in my existence.
That's...
“I agree. This is something I had never expected to happen, I...”
At a lack of words, the two let silence fall again.
After a while Leif resumed the conversation.
“I have a question. Will whatever you want me to do involve me getting off this station and back to my home planet?”
Yes, yes it will.
“Then tell me your name. If we are going to work together I need to know what to call you.”
Call me Keene.
“Okay, now... what do you need to do to get us out of this place?”
If Leif hadn’t known better, he'd have sworn he heard someone take a deep breath.
I need you to host me in your body.
“What does this entitle?”
My power resides inside you. I will be able to use my power at great strengths again once I have a physical host, although there are other things... Required, for me to become what your people call a god.
“So, in religious terms I take it you're a god without believers, or something down that road?”
Yes. If you do not mind I would prefer if we avoid that topic.
Leif nodded. “So if I get this right, I will basically be your physical vessel, transport and a conduit for your power?”
Yes.
“My mind is going to remain intact, right?”
My conscience and yours will be like... room mates, I believe is a fitting term for your species.
We cannot hide thoughts from each other.
Leif didn't like the sound of this. It was still not a too unfamiliar thing though, his brain being a computer and all.
“Is this permanent?”
Silence. A wall of black, foreshadowing thoughts hit Leif.
“It's permanent.” Leif said, biting his lower lip lightly as his brain told him to do.
Yes. Until one of us dies.
“You can die?”
Well... in theory...
“Until I die then.
Okay. Another question: Me being your host is the 'Ascending' thing you spoke of, right?”
After a brief silence Keene replied.
Yes.
“Didn't you say androids were incapable of that?”
It was... An assumption.
“You're telling me you don't know how exactly this whole thing works yourself.”
Yes. I've just never had any luck with androids before.
“You've been in this situation many times?”
Yes.
Leif sighed.
“Do it.”
You're sure? You don't have any more questions?
“I'm sure there's more I should ask you, something I'm forgetting, but to me it looks like we're each others last hope.
I mean, I had a vague plan, but the chances of it succeeding are one to twenty, failure meaning my inevitable destruction.
And... If you truly are a holy spirit, a savior, a god, then I don’t think I could live with not helping you.
So, let me ask you one last question before I take you in: Is there anything YOU would like to warn me about?”
Eh... Yeah. This might hurt a bit.
“Brilliant.” Leif said, and closed his eyes. “Get in.”
Leif felt a wave of incredible heat clash into his body, and everything was consumed in a white light.


The light stood bright and flaming in his mind, and although it's radiant visage slowly faded it remained in his consciousness.
It appears I was wrong.
Keene's voice echoed through his head. Leif felt as if he was about to collapse.
But there was another feeling too. Below the sickening revelation, there was a feeling of something great flowing through his body.
It was like a constant flow of electricity, yet not limited by any wire or battery. It was infinite, always changing.
“And it also appears you were right. Whatever you are, this is making no sense whatsoever.”
Leif sat down, running the many facts through his head.
“Okay, so now that you have a physical host that means you can do... well, magic?”
Sort of, yeah. I do though in many occasions need your assistance to do so. Or rather, to use the full extent of my power you need to actively tap into my power.
“Why does it work like that, and how does it work?”
It makes as little sense to you as it makes to me, except that for me it makes sense that it doesn’t make sense.
“Okay... can you demonstrate?”
Point your hand at the tree over there, and think... fire.
Leif raised his right arm, pointing his hand at a nearby oak tree. “Like this?”
Yes, now let the thought of fire fill your mind.
“Okay, fire...” Leif let thoughts of searing infernos fly through his mind, pillars of flame shooting down from the sky and fireballs soaring through the air.
A slight bit too heavy there. Try focusing on the fireball.
Leif pushed the other images out of his mind and focused on the glowing fireball.
As soon as it had his full attention, he felt a searing heat in his right hand. A split second later an enormous ball of flame emerged and shot forward at an insane speed.
In an explosion of radiant light the ball collided with the tree, in seconds annihilating it completely.
Leif stared at it in amazement, his brain ordering his jaw to drop.
Wonderful! An amazing display of imagination!
Leif couldn’t help but smile. For a second he recognized a spark of himself in Keene.
“You're actually a lot like me, aren't you?”
Ahem... Let's move on to the next mark on the agenda: getting us both to your home planet.
“Right. Mind explaining how we're going to do that?”
Okay, first we need to get into open space.
“There isn't space enough here?”
I meant space as in SPACE.
“Oh. What exactly are you planning to do once we're there?”
Fly us to your home.
“You can do that just like that?”
With your help, yes.
“Alright...”
Not really sure what to think, Leif strode off towards the hangar bay.
Having a 'holy spirit' take residence inside him was not at all like he'd have expected.
In the old tomes it was always described as a 'great blissful sensation' or something along those lines, but in reality it was more like a subtle presence that made him feel... meaningful.
In other words, it was incredible.
“I could get used to this...” he mumbled silently.
Well, you have to.

After a long elevator ride Leif, and Keene, arrived in the hangar bay.
“Alright, what now?”
Get into open space, I told you.
“Just like that? No preparations?”
No. Once we're out there I'll get us to your home.
Leif didn't like the sound of that at all.
Look, I know it sounds crazy but you have to trust me.
It's not like I CAN lie to you.
I promise, if you go out there we will get to your home planet.
“What makes your promise worth more than anyone else's?”
The recently mentioned fact that I cant lie to you.
Leif sighed.
“You could just as well be lying while saying that.”
For the incomprehensibility of the great unexplainable! Do you need more proof shoved into your metal face?
Leif couldn't help but smile.
He walked over to the nearest airlock, opening it and stepping inside.
“Good thing I'm built for prolonged exposure to the vacuum of space...”
OH, you are?
Leif was about to send Keene a killer stare when he realized he didn't know where to point it.
He sighed one more time, and pulled the switch to the door.
In a split second he was blasted into space by the air rushing outwards, and found himself flying aimlessly through the black void at a high speed.
Okay, we're in space. Get me home!
Just a minute...
Suddenly, a searing pain shot through Leif's back.
If you could hear things in space he'd have been shocked by the loud noise he let out from the shock and pain.
Ow ow ow ow! What are you doing? My back hurts A LOT! Make it stop!
Just a moment, almost there...
The pain intensified, and Leif felt something shooting from his back.
He felt it move outwards, grow, spread out, and then the pain stopped.
Something had changed, Leif could feel it, quite literally. Whatever had shot out from his back, it was connected to his brain. He could move it, he could...
Leif turned his gaze backwards and stared in shock at what he saw.
Wings...
From his back stuck out two metal wings, shining in the light from a nearby sun.
You... Gave me wings.
Yes! I'm sorry about the pain, but it's wonderful isn’t it?
This is how we're going to get home?
Quite so!
For a moment, Leif was silent. He could feel his brain getting pumped full of anger, and a moment later his thoughts were drowned in a maelstrom of rage.
You bloody MORON! We're in OPEN SPACE! Even if I had the necessary energy to fly us ALL THE WAY HOME there is NO AIR IN SPACE! The wings are completely USELESS!
But-
SHUT UP! We're trapped in EMPTY SPACE!
Listen Leif, just try flapping them! Your body will know what to do!
Leif let out a soundless roar of frustration.
FINE!
In a swift motion he moved his wings upwards, followed by a fast movement downwards and...
He was moving. Fast. Incredibly fast.
Space around him was a blur, he could see nothing but what was straight in front of him.
Surprised, he folded out his wings completely in an attempt to speed down.
It worked.
Amazed he flapped his wings again, and the same thing happened.
Not only could he use them to fly in space, the speed of his movement was intense.
This makes no-
Before he could finish the thought Leif cut himself off.
Inside his head he could hear Keene laugh.
You catch on fast, don't you?

After flying back to the abandoned carrier ship and setting coordinates for his home planet Leif found himself flying through space at an intense speed, using nothing but the steel wings that Keene had grown from his back.
Every time he thought about how little sense that made Keene chuckled inside his head, so he'd forced himself to stop.
After flying for a couple of hours, he asked Keene how fast they were flying.
Somewhere above the average speed of the carrier vessel we left.
Good god...
Indeed.

Around five hours of flight later they reached Leif's home planet, Sphere.
As they neared the atmosphere Keene instructed Leif on how to slow down, as their current speed would lead to a devastating collision with the planet's surface a split second after they entered the atmosphere.
After slowing down Leif let himself be dragged towards the planet by it's gravitation field, letting the high pressure of the atmosphere's outer levels press as hard as it wanted to against his steel body.
Slowly he fell towards the ground, letting the sweet realization of being safe flow through his head like a calming wave on a sunny beach.
As he passed through the clouds he could see a great pine forest below him. He was most possibly in the northern parts of the globe.
His brain informed him that the air was chilly, and that the chances of snowfall were high.
When his feet finally touched the ground he fell to his knees and cried out in relief.
“I'm home.” He stated silently.
Nice planet. Your people have dealt with pollution incredibly well!
Leif smiled. “Not really. We had to rebuild the entire ecosystem after a pollution caused disease wiped out almost all smaller flora.”
Ah. Must have been quite a hassle.
“It was. Us androids were originally built to do the dirty work outside of the oxygen-supplied habitation domes.”
I've heard THAT story before.
“We had a lot of smug science fiction authors during that period.”
Keene chuckled.
So, as you might have realized I have a few plans my self, but for now I cant do much.
What are you going to do now that you're home?
“Well... I never really got as far as planning what I'd do if I actually came home, but I guess I'll seek out my creator.”
Ah, my comple-
“The human that constructed me. Nothing religious in this endeavor, sorry.”
Keene sighed.
A spirit can dream...
So, where will this quest take us?
“Sphere's Capital. She lives in the Progress quarter near the Grand Shipyard.”
Supposing nothing has happened to her in the five years which you have been gone.
“True. But if she is still alive she's the one to seek out. My brothers will be there too.”
Brothers?
“Androids in the same specialization brand as me. We are programmed to have the same bonds of brotherly love as humans tend to develop if they grow up together.”
Ah.
“So, I suppose we can fly there?”
That's a good question. It depends whether you can keep your presence secret to your people.
You can never be sure how people will react when confronted with someone like me.
“Wont we have to find out when we meet them at any rate? My wings aren’t very subtle.”
They're retractable.
“Oh...” Leif folded his wings, and they slowly merged in with his back.
“Sweet. I suppose I can bring them out whenever needed?”
Yes. Having wings like that 24/7 was something I realized didn't work quite some time ago.
“Figures. I guess if we fly I'll have to stay above the clouds. Inside them if we get company.”
Let's be off then.
Leif nodded and folded out his wings again.
He set off and let his wings catch on the wind, and flapped them.
He shot forward in a burst of speed, and enjoyed the wind beating against his face.
It was an amazing feeling, flying far above the world completely on his own.
“We were right to envy the birds.”

Sphere's capital, Centrum, was a grand place. Although those that lived there knew quite well where it was a slum and where it was a high-class quarter, the city had no signs of such inequality on the outside.
Viewed from above the city looked like a giant mirror with it's solar cell rooftops, and at the moment everything shone in the light of the sun.
Leif and Keene landed in a grassy plain near one of the city's gates after having made sure no-one was near.
Leif folded his wings and started walking towards the gate.
As usual there was a long line in front of the city's entrance, but... Leif couldn't tell what, but something was off.
He walked closer noticing a huge screen hanging over the gate. A message was shown on it with grand green letters.

All Citizens must be scanned before granting access to the city.
Any attempt to bypass the scan will result in immediate arrest.
Please have your identification ready.

“Not good.” Leif mumbled.
This is not normal, I take it?
“No.” Leif muttered silently. “This is not normal at all, and I have a stinging feeling I know what this is about.”
Leif slipped into an 'I’m completely normal' attitude and covered up the few parts of his arms that gave away his inhumanity. He walked up to one of the people standing in the like.
“Excuse me, but why do you have to be scanned to get into Centrum?”
The man gave Leif a dull look.
“They say it's to catch criminals, but we all know why.”
Leif gave the man a confused look.
“We do?”
The man suddenly looked shifty, and gestured Leif to move closer.
“The Steel Inquisition, man. They're scanning for androids, looking for anyone that survived the shutdown.”
Leif nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
With that he turned around and walked back to the grassy plain.
After walking a bit further away from the city he sat down, his brain stimulating sorrow and hopelessness.
“It suddenly makes more sense why I was abandoned...”
What's going on Leif? What does all this mean?
“There's been a shutdown. A universal command disabling the free will of all androids within orbit.
There had been talk about it for a few months back before my stasis. A group of humans were claiming that androids were going too far, that we were messing with parts of nature that we shouldn't.
I guess things got real while I was asleep.”
Leif closed his eyes. This meant that every one of his brothers had their memory wiped, their mind taken from them.
That's... horrible. How can they do something like this?
“Jealousy, insecurity, something... I don't know. Humans are weird.”
Leif hid his face in his hands, trying to make sense of everything.
If this was already in motion when the carrier ship was evacuated it would make a slight bit more sense why he was left behind.
But, why not just kill him? Maybe it wasn't public yet at the time. The chances of him getting off the station were miniscule, so leaving him there was just as good.
But why hadn't they just brought him back to the planet and let the shutdown hit him?
You have to pull yourself together Leif. This is terrible, and we have to do something about it!
“One android against the entirety of the human army? I don't think so.
What do you plan on doing, breaking into the city, busting out the androids and giving them their minds back?”
Yes. Something along those lines.
“Crazy Talk, Keene. I know you're powerful, but I mean, I'd have to be downright immortal to do this.”
I am a GOD, Leif. An an angry one at that.
Has that word lost all meaning to you?
Leif opened his eyes and saw his hands emanating a pulsating yellow light.
He looked at it, and it calmed his mind, soothed the pain of loss.
Take it back, Leif. Find all they took from you, and take it back.
Leif nodded. “Take it back.”
He got up, straightened his back and started walking towards the city.
Invisibility. Leif let the word flash into existence in his mind. He looked down at his hands and they slowly faded to nothingness.
Leif ran past the line of people, reached the city's walls and unfolded his wings. He set off and flew over the walls, into the city.
He soared through the air, making a smooth dive towards the Progress quarter.
Where exactly are we going?
“To find Rheja, my creator.”
He landed in the quarter's square, near the grand fountain. It's motive was a man standing amidst a tsunami, blocking it's path and preventing it from colliding with the grand city behind him.
It was supposed to be a symbol of man's Triumph over nature.
He immediately ran down the street where he knew Rheja's house was.
He reached it, and knocked on the door frantically.
“Rheja, it's me! Leif! Let me in, Please!”
No reply.
Leif bit his lower lip and placed his hand on the doorknob.
Open.
A faint click was heard, and the door opened.
He hurried inside and locked the door after him.
“Rheja?” he said, calling.
No reply.
“Rheja, I know you're here.”
Leif suddenly heard a faint weeping sound from behind him.
He turned around slowly and saw Rheja standing behind him, a gun pointed at his head.
His mouth slowly opened in disbelief.
She stood there with her short black hair, gun pointed at him, crying.
“R-Rheja...”
“I'm so sorry Leif, when you knocked on my door I was so happy, but if I don't kill you they'll kill both of us. I'm so sor-”
What she was about to say drowned in her weeping.
Leif slowly walked towards her, cursing himself for having let down the invisibility barrier.
“Rheja, listen. There are a lot of things I have to tell you, and there are a lot of things I need you to explain to me. I-”
He didn't get any further. The loud sound of a concussion rifle being fired behind him cut him off.
He was catapulted into the air, hitting Rheja and knocking them both into a nearby wall.
A cloud of dust filled the scene.
From the other end of the room a man in heavy plating came out of the shadows. A black cross crested his white armor. He was holding an enormous concussion rifle.
“The grand Inquisitor was right. That's the fourth android we've intercepted trying to reach that woman. This one got far, though.” The man said to himself, scratching his chin.
“Shame she got hit in the blast. 'was good with nanotechnology and AI coding. No great harm done, though. We'll just blame it on the Android. Yes, we'll do that.”
The man grinned. “Well, I have a town to patrol. See you around, corpses.”
The man turned around and started walking towards the door, but before he could reach it something tore the whole building apart.
A powerful explosion sent the man flying straight through the door, and as soon as he'd left the house the walls started collapsing.
Out of the door came the android, holding the woman's crushed body in his hands.
Red flames stood out of his eyes.
“You killed Rheja.” He said, hate emanating from his words as they filled the air.
“Bloody... You're still alive!” The man got up, thanking the forces above for his armor.
He pulled the gun into position and fired another blast.
It hit the droid, and another cloud of dust filled the air, but when it dissipated the android was standing in the exact same place, completely unharmed.
“You killed Rheja, you MONSTER!”
With that Leif put Rheja's corpse on the ground and charged at a blurry speed towards the trooper.
When he reached him Leif put his hands around the man's throat.
PAIN.
The man's eyes grew wide, and his body started twitching wildly.
He tried to scream, but Leif's hands were in a steel grip around his neck.
“Die, monster.”
And so he did.
Leif let go of the man's neck, taking a step back from the corpse.
He turned around and saw Rheja's corpse. He fell to his knees, and let sorrow seep through his head.
You should send her off to the next life.
At first Leif wanted to yell at Keene, accuse him of everything being his fault.
But then he nodded, and laid his hands on Rheja's corpse.
Peace.
Slowly, her body was consumed by a brilliant yellow light. When the light faded, the body was gone.
“She lived a life worth living.”
Of course she did. All life is.
“She lived a good life, then.”
I can tell she did, my friend.
Leif sat there for some time, grieving, but was pulled out of his sorrow by the sound of approaching guards.
Invisibility.

Leif sat under a tree, a discarded datapad lying beside him.
He sat there, looking into nothingness, a great feeling of futility over him.
Okay, so... Let's take it from the beginning.
A group of people fearing Android rebellion decided to shut down all androids, just like that?
“A group of RELIGIOUS extremists claiming that android technology was going beyond the limit of what mankind should meddle with decided to take free will away from all androids, just like that.”
Leif said, his voice dripping with anger.
Didn't you tell me religious people are an extinct race on sphere?
“I only have the information I'm built with.”
Leif said, voice almost becoming a yell.
“According to the datapad I found on the bastard's corpse they call themselves the Steel Inquisition, and rose to power after people's opinion turned on androids.”
That kind of thing doesn't just happen on it's own, Leif.
Something must have turned people on the Androids.
Leif was silent for a moment.
“A female android bore a child.”
What?
“And claimed ownership of the child too.
People were outraged, as such things as bearing children were apparently a humans only privilege.”
Leif picked up the datapad and crushed it in frustration.
“The whole thing must have been planned for years. It wouldn’t surprise me if this inquisition has just been waiting for an excuse to pull the trigger.”
The ground shook as Leif slammed his fist into it in anger.
“This is why they had to get rid of me.”
I'm sorry, I don't really understand...
“It's my specialization, Keene. In the eyes of many I am the most dangerous experiment ever made.”
Your specialization being?
“Adaption.”
Silence fell for a short while.
I see.
Keene said slowly.
“They were wise to lock me in that ship. If I had been here... I don't know what, but I'd have done something!”
Leif got and slammed his fist into a nearby tree, reducing the area he hit to splinters.
As the tree fell, Leif stood there and stared at the destruction.
We have to do something Leif.
This will not stand. We have to free your people, Leif. Our people.
“OUR people?”
Yes.
“You... mean that?”
I cant lie to you, Leif. And your people are a people in need of a god if I ever saw one.
Amidst the sorrow and anger, a smile crept onto Leif's face.
“If a rebellion is what they fear, a Rebellion is what they'll get.”
We'll give them hell, Literally.
Leif's wings shot out from his back, and yellow flame burst from his hands.
He shot into the air and soared through the air until he reached Centrum.
He heard alarms start and air-crafts approach as he neared the government building.
He smiled.
Destruction.


***


High above the earth in an enormous warship Grand Inquisitor Markus stood bent over a map of Sphere.
By his side stood his adviser, currently briefing him on the situation down on the planet.
“...we've lost half of the northern continents, and the battles still rage on in Centrum.
They also managed to hijack one of our warships, and is currently moving it towards one of our labor plants.”
Markus sighed.
“A labor plant containing more Androids, am I correct?”
The adviser nodded. “You are.”
Markus was about to reply when one of the navigators called out for him.
“Inquisitor! A small stealth vessel has been spotted near the command deck.”
The Grand Inquisitor shrugged. “Shoot it.”
As the navigator gave orders to the turret crew, Markus turned around to the adviser again.
“As I was about to say, the situation surely looks grim, but remember that we cannot loose with god on our side. I-”
Again, he was interrupted by the navigator. “Ehh... Inquisitor?”
Markus turned around, annoyed. “What is it?”
“With all due respect sir, I don’t think god is on our side.”
From the stealth vessel's Airlock emerged an android. From it's back two grand steel wings spread out into space.
In it's right hand was a burning sword, and an illustrious halo resided behind it's head.
Leif smiled.
“For a new world, Keene.”
For a new beginning, my friend.
The android jumped forward, sword raised and ready to strike.
It soared through empty space like an eagle, charging into battle like an Ironbound Angel.
 

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The World Is Flat

The World Is Flat

The World Is Flat

Level 30
Joined
Mar 9, 2009
Messages
6,276
Windflower (WIP)

Here is my WIP:

A red light strobed on and off, its pattern of flashing was simple: every few seconds it would emit two flashes, and then shortly afterward it would flash again. Nobody was around to see the console; nobody usually was. The station’s two operators normally passed the time shooting cards in the old maintenance shed the lifts ride down from the dormitories; but not that they could really be called that. Minor outposts were stationed every one hundred and fifty miles along the equator, and again every fifty miles in places further to the north and south.

The light faded on and off. It was dark outside, the night cycle of the planet Demeter was almost exactly double that of the Earth cycle, which made keeping time surprisingly easy. Transport and deployment stations such as this were primarily automated assemblies. Robots totted in the harvests, or reported for repairs, and those were orchestrated by machine. Everything was automated. The only human input required was when the repair systems became damaged, and when the computer systems needed updates. The old AI cores were shut down years ago, after the Sangrino Case. They hadn’t actually been disassembled, but nobody was going to check an obscure maintenance outpost on an equally obscure planet.

The red light strobed on and off again, three times. Then a fourth. Another light shook on, issuing this time a pale blond glow. Lights began to flicker on in the hallways. The air conditioning rumbled in the deeper parts. Circulation was sedate, the thin air ushered through eddies at the rooms and compartments, seeping hesitantly down the narrow corridors. The facility had a sour demeanor that kept away the light of heart. The sleeping quarters were spare and compressed; no flourishes for creature comfort. At turns in the walkways the elbow joints of steel stuck out menacingly at the level of knee and eye. The old machines were temperamental, malfunctioning with habitually bad timing. The operators had to know the schedules of the generators, of the recycling, of the updates, memorize the daily checklists, know the way through the maze and how the wiring went.

Berty Adams woke ten minutes before he needed to and crept soundlessly from his bunk not wanting to disturb his brother. The door to the mess swung open smoothly and he felt for a vile of water. Somehow he collected the box with the right tea and started brewing. The room was a little brisk and his feet reproached the cool damp steel, making swirls through the thin vapor. Sensing movement the light went on and the table’s shadowed stretched over the tile. He sat to take in the sounds, smell the aromas of chamomile and chrysanthemum. A door was open on the black and lifeless hallway. Then a red bulb grew and dimmed, then again, casting crimson ambiance. Berty was studying his knuckles, thinking about the old harvest processor that needed work.

As a liquid swept through the network of pipes in the walls, the expanding metals yapped tersely. Gauge pointers whined, their springs and pivots corroded. Above the refrigerator in the store room the valve box gave way with a pop. The heated fluid coursed to a generator in the blackness at the back. Gurgling liquids and fumes within its looping chambers, clicking and clacking gears, in a minute yielded a dull hum. On the control board two eyes of chartreuse light blinked and glowed keenly. The heavier generators, buried beneath layers of floor, ramped up with a subtle crackle of volts. Cooling fans whirred, dragging unwanted warmth from the facility’s bowels. Dusty overhead lamps mounted in strips declared their firm white beams through the stale atmosphere, light spilling into shimmers of mist upon the steel floor. The vents started up their sucking, and the moisture vapors would be gone in half an hour. This was the facility’s groggy withdrawal from inactivity. It was when the lubrication uncongealed, when the framework stiffened in anticipation, when the old conduits were inundated with fresh energy.

The peal of the dawn alarm woke Tim. His hair was muggy and matted around his scalp. He stayed limp through the ringing, gazed at a wall, forgot what he was dreaming. It must have been six o’clock. It was dim and still; there was a band of light under the door. In the mess a spigot gushed water and the legs of a chair scraped. After ten seconds the alarm was silent and Tim rolled over wanting the comfort to stay. Until he was up and had breakfast he only processed simple emotions. His breath fogged the window pane. In the dark he saw the stars and the two moons half-faded to navy velvet. One of the glimmers was Earth’s sun. It was almost too far away to care about. Over the horizon was a soft yellow-blue hue. Smooth curving land a deep shadowed auburn, and all flat except for the turtle-shell shape of John’s Hill eight miles southwest and the lonely silhouettes: the machines craning, loosening their joints. Fifty miles into the sky moved plumes of ice crystals, clouds thinning at the rim of the Troposphere. They moved west with the Jet. By noon the surface winds would cast up the sand and iron dust and the heat would birth mid-altitude cumulus clouds; billowing red masses. The temperature would be over ninety Fahrenheit.

Tim found himself vibrating. A white light poked on at the headboard and there was a marginal beep announcing the cleaning about to commence. In the undercarriage a plastic tube jerked and ballooned out like a bloated artery, subtly hissing and sputtering air. Tim’s brow furrowed at the interruption. His blankets unscrupulously shifted. Clumsily he reached with numb morning fingers. In a second his coverings made a complete retreat, and with an audible swallow were pulled down the plastic tube. In the wake the vibrating subsided and the tube flattened. Quietness. Tim’s chest rose and fell, the ribs pulling up and stretching the skin enough to count them. In his blue britches he felt exposed. The draft brushed his skin, raising pebbly goose-bumps.

Taciturnly he rose, swung his legs over the side, shimmied to the ladder, and tenderly lowered down. He could smell Berty’s tea. It was sweet like their mother’s sweater after she walked through the dewy zinnias, plucking flowers. He made his way to the bathroom, and the glass panel slid up, then down behind him. It was a compact space the size of a closet. The plumbing showed, rimming the floor. There were no uncontrolled drips, rampant stains or plagues of rust running over the intestinal tracts. But resident engineers made for no drippings, no rusting hinges, no failing light, no shortage of hot water. Berty had capitulated to annoyance and removed the computerized voice that would always say welcome and ask how to serve. In a cupboard made makeshift of paneling and wire Tim scooped his little cylindrical case. The label was scratched off, in its place was his name. He pried it open, tipping it over his palm. A narrow contraption popped out, slate grey except the stark jade compound lenses. It was metallic, an inch long, lacquered shiny, and inert. Minute strands like legs were curled petrified at the sides, and a pair of wires folded against the rigid back. Tim passed it under a trickle of the faucet water. Droplets swept over it and were absorbed into the sheath of osmotic cells, which triggered pulses of stored electricity that coalesced at the artificial heart. It suddenly became alive, scuttling lither than a cockroach of flesh. Its feet felt like feather strokes on Tim’s skin. It circled over his fingers and paused to taste the salts and toxins. The two wires propped up like antenna…
 

Avator

Avator

Avator

Level 18
Joined
Aug 23, 2008
Messages
2,319
Sorry guys, school just started and it's already very hectic. I won't be able to finish my story. This is what I've got so far.

“...and St. Chrea protected this place with faith alone, without harming a single man. Life is a sacred thing and he taught us that. This is why we dedicated this place, this cathedral, to the sacred St. Chrea. Ezaran.”
“Ezaran”, the crowd repeated.
The horns started playing their music and the crowd bowed their heads as they left the cathedral in an orderly fashion. The priest who just finished his prayers stayed at his pedestal to watch the sea of light blue cowls slowly flow through the doors.
When the last of the crowd were out of sight, a new man entered, dressed in long light blue robes like the people who just left. He got on his knees and made some gestures with his arms, although hidden in long, wide sleeves. After a small pause, the man reached out to the statue that was placed next to the door. The statue was of a scaled reptile with a book in his left hand and his right hand clamped around an amulet hanging on his neck. The statue itself was bronze, but was dressed in leather robes like the priest’s. The man gently touched the statue’s head with a similar scaly hand and then touched his own. He slowly stood up and walked to the pedestal where the priest still hadn’t moved.
“Oulteza Damien, the Gathering requests your presence. I have already summoned the other Oulteza’s, so they will probably be there by now.”
“Thank you”, the priest replied. “I will be there shortly.”
The man bowed his head and left the large room just as calm. The priest mumbled his prayers and then looked up from under his bright white cowl to gaze upon the marvelous architecture of the ceiling. A glimpse of a small, blue head revealed itself and its small eyes could only just peek under the cloth covering to see the authentic drawings that hung above him.
“Ezaran…”
He closed the book on the pedestal, stored it under his robes and left the now empty halls.

“Ah, Damien, welcome.”
Damien entered a room carved out of a mountain wall. He was no longer the only one dressed in bright white robes. In fact, the dozens of people that had already gathered had the same clothing. Damien kneeled by the statue at the door, spoke his prayers and touched the cold, bronze head. He then joined his brethren in the room and the meeting could begin.
“Oulteza’s of the Codex, welcome to the 53rd Gathering”, one of the hooded men said. “I’m sure all of you are wondering why I summoned you.”
Unlike most crowds that would start whispering their guesses and expectations, this group stayed completely calm, waiting for the man to continue.
“I have been blessed with a vision from St. Chrea himself. He has shown me our future in Ascension. And he has given me the gift to share it with you today.”
He raised his four-fingered hands and rays of light hit the statue behind the preaching man. This statue was of the same man as the one at the entrance, only thrice the size and it stood with its arms raised as if it were embracing the air. The light reflected to various corners in the room, where it in turn was all reflected to the middle of the room. The group of priests now took new places with the assembly of light as new the centre of attention.
It slowly began to dim, until out of nowhere the shape of an energized orb appeared. The energy visibly flowed all over the room until it seemed to burst out. For a second, every corner was illuminated with the brightest light, but none of the faithful priests backed down or covered their eyes. When the lights slowly faded away, the vision vanished into thin air as well. For the first time since the Gathering started, some priests acted different than others. Some were stunned, while others had a small satisfied smile on their faces. The man who raised his arms now lowered them to continue his speech.
“As you’ve all seen, the day of Ascension is coming. After many centuries of faith, we will finally be closer to the Gods to live in harmony. However…” he said with a small pause, “…this gift comes at a price.”
All priests were calm and focused again to hear the news.
“We have searched and found the location where the Ascension will start. It is deep within the Meyi system, where the Boalans live. We must not allow these unbelievers to interfere with the Gods’ plans.”
He took his time to look at every priest and proceeded.
“The Meyi system must be cleansed in order to let the Gods carry out their plan. It is clear what our objective is, that is also why I have called this gathering. As Oulteza’s, you must spread the word and keep faith high with all our inhabitants. In the upcoming weeks, we will prepare the armies to make an interstellar journey and clear out the system. It is our duty to accompany them on that journey and keep them on the path that will lead us to victory and harmony. You will all be informed a week before departure which platoons you will support. May the Gods help us through our upcoming ordeal. Ezaran…”
“Ezaran…” the Oulteza’s replied.
They left the room to go home with a goal in sight.

“Oulteza Damien.”
The same man that entered the Cathedral of St. Chrea a few weeks ago presented himself at the doorway of Damien’s hut.
“Ah, Nera, come in.” Damien said when he noticed who called for him. “I assume you’ve got the list?”
“Yes”, Nera replied. “And I’m sorry to say you weren’t the luckiest with your assigned platoons.”
“Come now, it doesn’t matter where I’m assigned. I join them, whoever they are, to protect them as much as they protect me. It is not the vehicles or type of weapons we use that will aid us. It is the favor of the Gods. Please, make yourself comfortable.” He said, gesturing to the chair by the dinner table.
Nera took the seat and watched Damien walk out of sight to his kitchen.
“Would you like a cup of gib juice? It’s really good.” he called from behind the wall.
“Sure, that sounds like it would hit the spot.”
A bit later, Damien returned with 2 small cups filled with some thick red goo and placed them on the table.
“Cheers.” he said as he raised his cup.
“Cheers.”
After both of them took a sip, Nera got a long list from under his robes and laid it out on table.
“That’s your name right there.” He said when pointing somewhere near the top of the list. “12th to 18th armored infantry.”
Damien tilted his head a bit to take a better look at the list.
“That means you’ll be jumping head first to clear the anti-aircraft platforms. Those platforms are patrolling around the flagship Merogin. That’s our goal. It is as big as a small planet and if we can take it over, we will have given them a blow they won’t be able to recover from. Victory would be assured then.”
“So how would we reach those platforms if they attack our ships with it?” Damien asked.
“The platoons will be shot out in pods at high speed. Their anti-air defenses won’t be able to hit an object moving that fast. When the pod is close enough to a platform, it’ll deploy its brakes automatically. The landing won’t be soft, but everyone inside will be safe and ready for combat as soon as it opens.”
“Wait, if the pods can’t be hit by their anti-air defenses, why…”
“Why don’t we land right on the Merogin?” Nera finished his sentence. “First of all, there are not enough pods to land the entire infantry. Second of all, we would have no vehicles whatsoever. And lastly, with the units that we could get ship-side by pod, we would be overwhelmed in minutes.”
Damien leaned back, taking it as a valid reason to avoid that tactic.
“Don’t worry. After the anti-air platforms are taken over, our ships can get in position. You and your platoons will be picked up again and dropped on the Merogin.”
“And what is our job there?” Damien asked.
“You need to take all eyes off the stealth team, led by Oulteza Vema-Oganim that will be brought in a few miles away from the main battlegrounds.”
Damien looked up from the list and kept staring emotionless to Nera for a few seconds. Then he replied. “We’re the bait?”
“No, no, no.” Nera quickly rectified. “You will be fighting just the same as all other platoons will and you still act like your priority is to take over the Merogin. You will however have to move parallel with the stealth team to give them constant covering.”
“Alright. Where do they go and where should we go?”
Nera seemed more relaxed as he pulled out another piece of paper and laid it over the list on the table. When he unfolded it, a map crawling with roads and marks revealed itself.
“This is where you will be dropped.” Nera said when he pointed at a mark labeled DAM. “You will go through these streets towards the control room.”
His finger slid over the map by a red line and ended up at a big black point marked as CR.
“Oulteza Vema-Oganim’s stealth team will land here in a pod, so they won’t be detected landing. With the battle elsewhere, the Boalans won’t notice them.” He said when his finger went down and right to a mark labeled VO.
From there, a purple line went all the way up, past the CR mark to an open area without a label.
“And what do they do when they reach their destination?” Damien asked.
Nera smiled and said: “They will assure victory.”
It still made little sense to Damien, but if it was important for him, Nera wouldn’t be so cryptic. Besides, that was info for Vema-Oganim’s platoon. He had all the info he needed.
“So” Nera said. “Anything else you’d like to know?”
Damien shook his head, after which Nera folded up the map and list so he could store it under his robes again.
“Well then. You will be picked up here in 7 days around 15:00, so you will be moved to the gathering area where you will meet your platoons and start your journey.”
He took a last big sip of his gib juice, placed the cup back on the table and saluted Damien as he walked to the doorway.
“Have a nice day.”
“You too.” Damien replied.

He looked left, down the street, but it was still empty. The clock projection on a nearby board showed it was 15:09. Everything was covered in a red gloom, indicating it has indeed been 7 days since Nera visited to debrief him. The color of the sky and the gloom it creates on the surface gives the inhabitants an indication of time. A gas in the atmosphere changes the color filter of the clouds, giving each day of the month a different color.
Finally, a light appeared in the distance. Damien picked up his suitcase and waved to the vehicle closing in. It slowed down until it came to a stop in from of his feet. The side of the oval-shaped transport glowed and vanished, revealing 3 armored men under the now floating roof. Damien placed his suitcase inside before hopping in himself. When he took place in a seat, the side appeared in a glow and was solid once again.
“Sorry we ran a bit late.” The man in front of him said when the vehicle started moving. “But we’re here now and we will still be well in time. I am lieutenant Harvov and the man next to you is captain Piomarah. I believe you already know who's sitting next to me.”
“Oulteza Mey, it’s good to see you.” Damien said to the face he remembered from the Gathering. “Are we the only ones to be picked up on this route?”
“Yes.” Harvov said.
“So where are you all assigned to?” the captain asked.
“56th armored infantry.” The lieutenant replied.
“I’m guiding the 24th to 30th armored infantry.” Mey carried on. “And you, Damien?”
“I got the 12th to 18th. What about you, captain?”
“I’ll get you all on the floor from the drop ship.” He said with a smile.
With that shared, they all began to realize these were the kind of people they would join in battle. Some might even die and some might come out as true heroes. Or maybe they would just see each other at the end of battle with four grand stories to share. Either way, this would change everything for everyone.
Several hours later, they arrived. The side opened up and everyone left the transport with their luggage.
“I guess this is where we split up then.” Lieutenant Harvov said.
Damien turned around to see he was talking to the captain. It just occurred to him that captain Piomarah would have to go to the gathering area of the air forces, while the lieutenant and Mey would go to the infantry section.
“Remember…” Piomarah said with a grin. “I only buy the drinks if you all come back in one piece.”
They laughed and waved him goodbye as he went off. Then it was time for them to meet the rest of the troops and the platoons they would accompany. Harvov was the first to spot his. A bit later, Mey found his group and wished Damien good luck before leaving as well. Damien’s place was not far away. He could see a banner ‘12th – 18th’ hanging above a group of well-equipped men. At this point, he had to act like an oulteza again. They probably expected the blessed type who would keep them divinely strong during the entire attack. If he wanted to keep morale up like he’s supposed to, he would have to live according to that description. He checked if his robes were presentable, took a deep breath and marched calmly towards to group.
He looked around as he walked further into the encampment. Most people tagged their friends who were looking elsewhere and pointed at Damien. It was sightseeing for them until somebody came out of one of the tents, noticed Damien and walked straight towards him.
“Oulteza Damien?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Welcome to the 12th to 18th armored infantry.” The man said as he bowed his head. “I am lieutenant Kron.”
Now that the men saw the lieutenant making his acquaintance, they became less distant themselves. They even got closer to say hi to Damien and to take a closer look. He introduced himself to everyone around him and they seemed to get along great. The troops were excited to have an oulteza support them, and they seemed in good fighting condition. That’s all they need to give it their all.
“Oulteza Damien, I’m sure you’ve had a long trip here.” Kron said. “Let me show you your tent.”
He escorted Damien to the tent next to the one he came out of.
“You can leave your possessions here and you will have a good place to sleep.”
The tent was completely empty, except for a bed and some carpet flooring directly on the grass. By normal standard, it was a dump. But for a military tent, it was quite nice.
“Thank you, lieutenant.” Damien said as he bowed his head.
Kron left his tent and Damien went to sit on his bed. He thought about what a big step he would make tomorrow when the warships would take flight and take them past many stars to their destination.
With that in his head, he got changed and went to sleep.
 

RiotZ

RiotZ

RiotZ

Level 22
Joined
Jul 25, 2009
Messages
3,091
Good luck to the other contestants. Cya next contest, hopefully it'll have a better theme lol. :D

Same thing Avator said kinda applies too me, lots of school no time, but here's how far I've come, the end is a little rushed and I am unsatisfied with it.

Romulus
It was the eve of Christmas 2209 that an estranged writer discovered the long lost tale of Captain Romulus Turbine. Down on his luck essentially without work, he was out for a night of drinking and procrastinating. When he walked into the bar and sat down, he dropped his notebook on the bar table. The bartender walked over and stared at him with an uncomfortable pause,
“The usual?” asked the bartender.
“That’d be fine, Butch.” The writer replied.
The bartender sat the beer down to the writer’s left, and returned to his work. The bar was shanty, the wooden floor boards creaked with every step or bump. A small tube television hung behind the bar table, it was set to channel 91-01, GNI, the Global News Initiative. The ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen, listing off the week’s most notable events,
“Meteor showers devastate Los Angeles region…”
“… US Army Corps of Engineers reports Exodus I is complete.”
On the actual screen, Frederick Deinzer, President of The United Nations Space Armada was speaking to the public outside the new UN Headquarters in Munich.
“Today is a day that deeply saddens me, today, scientists have confirmed, that in fifteen to twenty years, our world’s atmosphere, will no longer be livable-“
Before the speech was over the bartender switched to a different channel. The bartender went into one of his usual rants,
“That’s a bunch of shit, I was born here I’m goin’ t’ die here,” he exclaimed.
Inside the bar, you could hear the sound of roaring engines, shuttles from the local star port taking off. The outside was dimly lit, the sky was red and orange, and clouds were few. The ground was nothing but a warm dust, which sifted from dune to dune. The government had become corrupt in some people’s estimation, Communist even, they said, Capitalist fundamentalism is what put us here. Anarchists rallied together in local towns and cities constantly, stirring up trouble in any possible way they could.
The bar was lively, the bartender had set the television to channel 12-06, the Entertainment Sports Program, people were watching and cheering the local sports team. All the while, the writer sat silently on the corner bar stool, writing into his notebook. Not far from where he was a sitting, two stools between them, sat a strange old man, with a long gray beard, with patches of white spread throughout. His bald head was partially covered, by an old sailor cap. He had a glass of whisky at his left and a bowl of peanuts to his right.
The rest of the crowd didn’t stand out particularly, though there was a woman of excellent beauty sitting several bar stools down from the old man. Long blonde hair, like golden silk, breasts like ripe melons, and denim jeans, cut off near her hips. She was sitting next to a man; a muscular man, of momentous physique.
The old man took interest in the writer; looking over he saw him writing. As time passed, and the sports game began to die down, the old man continued to spare a look over at the notebook, and its owner. The bartender was sitting down under the television, reading a book, entitled, A Tale of Two Cities. Relaxed, and lying back in his chair, slightly slouched, he was not disturbed by the noise. As he was flipping to the next page, the old man asked for another whisky. The bartender got up from his seat with a shrug, and brought the man another whisky. The old man began to inquire about the writer,
“Hey, do you know that guy?” he said as he nodded toward the writer.
“Yeah, he’s a regular here,” the bartender whispered back.
The bartender returned to his seat, and continued reading his book.
All the while, the old man, began to move his whisky and his bowl of peanuts to the section next to the writer. He sat down with a crash, rattling the floorboards.
“What are ye’ writing there son?” he grunted,
The writer replied with a stutter,
“What?” “…Why, what do you want?”
“Ye’ are writin’ down notes in a bar, what literature was written in such slums,” said the old man, with a sound of distaste in his voice.
“Look, I don’t know you, and you’re bothering me, I can’t write, with some drunken old man bothering-“
“I’m not drunk,” the old man exclaimed,
“…and I’ve forgotten more about life, and its stories than you will ever know.”
He continued with ferocity,
“You want to hear a story?”
“A story about fear, triumph, and ecstasy, something too real to make up in some fairy tale world,”
“I’ve lived too long, to know the tale, and let it die with me,” he said as he banged his glass on the table.
The writer tried to contain what appeared to be, yet another scene caused by over-abuse of alcohol at The Admiral’s Quarters.
“Calm down, calm down,” said the writer,
“What is the story about?”
The old man downed another whisky, slammed it on the table, and turned to the writer, with a certain eeriness.
“The tale… of Romulus Turbine,”
“…and the story of his dangerous, adventurous life,” said the old man.
The writer grabbed his pen, and flipped to an empty page in his book.
“Okay well, let’s hear it,” he said with a sighing tone.
“It was the eve of Christmas 43 years ago when Romulus was a Captain on the ship, ‘The Hammer of Dawn’. He was sitting in the officers’ quarters with his men, talking about daily life in the United Nations Space Force. He and three other officers, two Petty Officers, and one Lieutenant, were all sitting at a round table, playing cards, and conversing. The officers’ quarters, as it sounds, was reserved for officers on break from their vigorous schedule. The lockers were empty on nearly every part of the ship the entire crew was awaiting the end of their tour, Christmas day. It was near
“At ease Commodore…” said Romulus.
“…The Admiral and Vice Admiral are awaiting you on the bridge, Captain,”
Romulus paused for a moment, and realized this was the moment he’d been waiting for it was time to get debriefed.
“I’ll head right up,” Romulus replied.
On the bridge the Admiral and Vice Admiral were in discussion,
“I don’t give a damn how much time you’ve clocked Leavy!”
“When duty calls it’s time to man up…”
With a fierceness only rivaled by a Grizzly bear, the Admiral continued to tear into Vice Admiral Leavy,
“…If you’re not mentally equipped to handle this mission I’ll have to find someone else.”
Leavy with a sigh of relinquish, he gasped,
“My apologies Admiral, it is not my place to question your judgment.”
The Admiral accepted his yield, and waved him off to continue his duties. The Admiral turned from facing the door to the bridge, to face the spectacle that was space. Glass windows lined the entire middle half of the bridge, with small metal support beams between them. The bridge had two rows of computers on each side that controlled various things, from engine output, to the long range sensors. At the very front of the bridge, there were two sets of chairs and computers on each side of the Admiral’s seat and prospectus hive mind, a computer designed to show the ship’s status. From the prospectus the Admiral could make assessments and order his subordinates to the left and right to make necessary modifications.
After his conversation with Leavy, the Admiral sat in his chair with a mug of coffee in his left hand, and a cigar in his right.
“Plot course to Auspex,”
He said,
“It’s going to be a long ride.”
When Romulus arrived, the Admiral turned his swiveling chair to face his comrade.
“Ah, Captain Turbine, just the man I was looking for,” he stated.
“I have troubling news Captain,”
“We’re not going home just yet.”
A long silent pause followed the Admiral’s statement.
“I don’t understand Admiral,” said Romulus.
“A passenger cruiser was hijacked near Auspex…”
The Admiral further explained the event,
“We’re the only ones equipped to handle it…”
“…the rest of the damn fleet is either on the ground, or out of distance.”
“The Admiral of The Fleet briefed me that he wanted this cleaned up quickly.”
Certain dissatisfaction was visible in Romulus’s eyes. He had expected to return to his family for Christmas.
“Shall I inform the crew?” inquired Romulus.
“I have Vice Admiral Leavy, and several other officers already doing that,” said the Admiral.
“Right now, I need you here, on the bridge, with me.”
“…there is much work to be done.”
As they began to consort, the rest of the crew was preparing themselves for another journey. Empty lockers, were filled, the entire crew was commissioned back to service. Not a single section of the ship was quiet; all the while the unhappiness among crew members was obvious.
On the deck, mechanics were repairing boarding craft, and corvette class escorts. One mechanic in particular, Viktor Orlov, was conversing with a fellow mechanic,
“These men us for fools,”
“…without mechanic who would repair ship?”
The two of them were sitting around drum of fuel on fold out chairs, playing cards, and drinking vodka.
“This is good vodka yes?”
“Reminds me of the old country,”
“When I was boy-“
The officer on deck butted in,
“Alcohol is not permitted on deck,” he exclaimed,
“This must be confiscated.”
The officer took the alcohol along with their cups, and returned to his duties. Orlov and the other mechanic stared at the officer as he walked away, waiting for him lose sight of them. They were sitting underneath the engine of a corvette class fighter; once the officer was no longer visible. The other mechanic looked at him angrily,
“I thought you said he wouldn’t see us!”
He shouted,
“Calm down buffoon,”
“That one was half empty anyway,” he said as he reached into an exhaust socket, pulling down another bottle of vodka. Orlov began to giggle, and said,
“Come on, you don’t think I stupid man!?”
The mechanic continued to stare angrily for a short moment, and began to burst out laughing. Orlov pulled some disposable cups out of his nearby tool bag, and they continued drinking.
Up in the overseer’s office overlooking the deck, the overseer and his assistant were awaiting a pilot. The office was shabby, rusty file cabinets, and a wooden desk with the finish scraped off in multiple places. There was a line of windows in front of the overseer’s desk, with tiny spacers separating them. A set of three televisions tuned to a security channel hung down in front of the windows. From here, the overseer could scrutinize every action on the deck without hesitation.
The pilot was Marcus Ramsey, his entire career as a pilot was easily considered questionable, as was his conduct. Other pilots called him by the nickname Top Gun; though his service record was tarnished, he was still considered an elite pilot, flying over one-hundred successful missions.
While he walked into the office, the overseer was sitting comfortably at his desk, with a cigarette simmering down in an ashtray to his left.
“Have a seat Ramsey,” he said.
The overseer looked to his assistant, and waved his hand with a sweeping motion toward the door,
“You may leave us,” he said.
Ramsey, threw his legs onto the desk, and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
“What’ya need boss?” he said laughingly.
“We have a mission for you,” the overseer replied.
“If you complete it, we will override your suspension, and you’ll be back in a fighter this week.”
Ramsey pulled his feet off the desk, and moved his chair closer,
“Documentation?” he asked with seriousness.
The overseer reached into a compartment on his desk, and pulled out several pages of stationary stapled together. He slid them across the desk, and Ramsey pulled a rusty pen from his shirt pocket.
“Sign here, and here,” said the overseer, while pointing to areas of the paper.
Ramsey signed willingly and without hesitation. He slid the signed documents back to the overseer, and began walking to the door. The overseer looked down at the signature ‘Marcus Top Gun Ramsey’ and stopped Ramsey at the door.
“Ramsey!” he shouted,
“None of that top gun horseshit on this one…”
“…You got me!?”
Ramsey opened the door, and turned his head,
“Whatever you say boss,” he said sarcastically as he walked out.
Meanwhile on the bridge, the Admiral was reluctant to explain the situation to Romulus.
“Captain, the real reason you’re here…” he said,
Romulus lifted from his chair, O Lord what have I done to deserve this? His resolve was weakening, the closer he became to Auspex, the further his loss of morale continued.
“…Is because I want you on this mission.”
“I can’t have a ship full of rookies dealing with something this serious.”
Romulus, there with a certain pain in his chest,
“I understand,” he said.
The Admiral stood up, and shook Romulus’s hand,
“I’ll give you a year’s leave from the fleet.”
“Report to the overseer,” the Admiral said,
As Romulus began to leave, the Admiral looked toward him and shouted,
“Good luck Captain!”
He sat back down, and turned to look at the space ahead, Auspex was just in sight, and the hijacked ship was floating above.
When Romulus arrived in the overseer’s office, he was greeted by a friendly group of crewmen, Viktor Orlov, Marcus Ramsey, and several others.
“Now that you’re all here!” the overseer shouted,
“We may begin…”
Romulus took a seat in front of the desk. Viktor and Marcus were standing in corners at different ends of the room near the windows. Romulus turned his head and looked at the surrounding crewmen…
“This is it?” he asked,
“This is everyone yes,” the overseer stated,
“You know your mission?”
Romulus looked at the overseer and paused for moment,
“Well enough I suppose,” said Rom.
The overseer began to brief the Captain,
“You are boarding their ship in a transport piloted by the man to your left,”
Romulus turned to look at his new pilot, Marcus smiled and said,
“Yours truly Captain.”
“And who is to my right?” Rom asked,
“My name, Viktor Orlov, I am mechanic,”
Romulus turned back to face the overseer,
“Who are the others?” he asked.
“Armed escorts, you’re going in with one other transport and two corvette class fighters.”
“So just like protocol then?” asked Romulus.
The overseer with cigarette in one hand, leaned back in his chair, and said with certain ease,
“That’s all there is to it,”
“You get those civilians back here in healthy conditions,”
“Any questions?” he asked,
Due to the nervous syndrome amidst the crew, no questions followed,
“Okay, then you are dismissed.”
A metal catwalk ran from the office down along the base, where the stairs left off at a storage room underneath it. Romulus and the others were making their way downward, when the overseer began speaking in the broadcaster,
“T minus ten minutes ‘til dispatch,” he said.
As if nerves weren’t on edge already, the loudspeaker broadcast made everyone feel, as if it was really happening. Going into a hijacked ship with only the support from a group of armed escorts was a dangerous challenge. Booby-traps, sentries, and hostages, makes for an interesting blend of complication.
Turbine, Ramsey, and Orlov were loading into the transport,
“You ever been in Zero-G before?” asked Ramsey,
“Twice,” Turbine stated.
The corvettes and transports were loaded with all necessary crewmen, and the hangar was cleared of all personnel. The hangar bay doors began opening, they were designed to interlock, one on the bottom, one on the top, one to the left, and one to the right, this was to prevent an easily breached hangar. As they began to separate, you could see the cold dead space outside, stars so bright, they seemed within arm’s length. The air began to pull out of the hangar at a rapid speed, dust, liquids, pamphlets; all began flushing out into space.
The ships began to take off, the two transports in front, and the two fighters in back, sailing forth into the sea of darkness that was space. The overseer came in on the comm. channel saying,
“The hijackers have contacted us…”
“…They said if any tries to board, they’re killing the hostages.”
“All units pull off current course, return to-”
Ramsey reached down and tuned the radio to a different channel, R&R 22.7, Classic Rock ‘n Roll, a song was on called “More Than a Feeling,” by a band named Boston, after the city in Massachusetts.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard this one!” Ramsey exclaimed,
Romulus who was in the other city turned the radio off completely, and grabbed hold of Ramsey’s arm,
“What the hell are you doing Ramsey!?” he asked,
“You might want to buckle-up Captain,” Ramsey jokingly replied.
Turbine looked ahead to see the hangar doors of the hijacked ship slowly closing,
“You’re never going to clear!” he exclaimed,
“Don’t worry I’ve done this before,” Marcus said.
Viktor was in the back sitting to the left in the transport, he could see the other ships tailing off back to The Hammer of Dawn. To ease the anxiety he pulled a thermos out of his tool bag filled with vodka.
“Vodka?” he asked,
Only the armed escort across from Orlov accepted,
“What is your name?” Viktor asked,
“Meskers, Sergeant Meskers,” he said,
Romulus was in a dismal state of mind He’s not going to clear! Who enlisted this asshole!? He pulled down the safety belts above his head which covered the user’s body in an X shape.
“You are not scared Sergeant?” asked Orlov,
“I’ve rode with Ramsey before,” Meskers replied,
“It’s hard to forget-“
Ramsey yelled out to the passengers,
“Safety belts on, brace!”
The hangar had vertically closing doors that were made of an extremely high durability metal. There was no way to break through them once they had closed. So Ramsey, like rumor spoke of so many times before, punched it and made a decision his commanders did not authorize.”
“Did they make it?” the writer asked,
“They did, but not with ease, as they were entering the small gap that was between the top and bottom doors, the back end of the transport was completely torn off and crushed by the closing doors. Their thrust abilities were greatly impaired the only thrust they had was on the front of the ship allowing them to push backwards. Orlov and Meskers were not injured, but were less than ecstatic part of the sections they sat on had been torn off by the bay doors.
Because of the tremendous speed upon entry the ship continued sliding across the hangar deck, sending sparks flying through the air. They were heading straight for the opposite hangar doors, destined for a collision. Ramsey began to pull the ship left causing it to spin out of control.
“Get out!” he yelled,
Turbine and the others headed to the back of the transport and jumped out where the engines used to be. The ship was spinning so erratically, you couldn’t account for its facing direction. This caused the crew to fly out in many different directions.
Romulus waking in the pain he sustained in his leap of faith lifted his head to look at the transport, flying toward the bay doors. Just before it impacted Ramsey leaped out hitting the deck with a heavy clunk, rolling and spinning. Seconds passed and everyone was standing, Ramsey limped toward the others.
“Le-“
“Let’s do that again,” he said jokingly.
The size of the hangar was absurd, twice that of The Hammer of Dawn, yet it was empty.
“It looks like they took out the other ships,” said Rom,
Their voices echoed off the large walls and ceiling, allowing quiet statements to be heard from far away.
“They probably dropped the pods too,” Marcus said.
Orlov was investigating the elevator shaft,
“It appears to be cut,” he said,
Turbine, Ramsey, and Meskers all gathered by the elevator with Orlov,
“Can you get us Zero-G Orlov?” asked Ramsey,
“This I can try,” Orlov stated.
Orlov broke the metal panel that protected the circuitry,
“This will take moment yes?” he said.
He began rewiring, and rerouting, causing lights to go off in certain sections of the hangar,
“Why don’t we use the radio?” Meskers asked,
“Because they know our frequencies…” gasped Ramsey,
“There!”
“I got it!” Orlov exclaimed.
The gravity began to destabilize, and they started to float…
“Get in the shaft, quickly,” said Marcus,
At the top Ramsey helped pull one person up after the other.
“Bridge room, eh top level,” said Orlov,
“I worked on one of these ships.”
Ramsey pulled an old Colt model M1911 handgun from his pants,
“Rom, you carry a sidearm?” he asked,
Turbine pulled a Steelton brand Gauss pistol from his concealed holster,
“We’ve got three weapons,” said Ramsey,
“Meskers you got that stasis gun?”
The Sergeant pulled a leather jacket away from his body to reveal his weapon and a flak jacket.
“Alright, you’re with me,” Ramsey said,
“Rom you take Orlov and you find an intercom system,”
“Once we’ve taken the bridge, we can communicate via intercom.”
Ramsey and Meskers climbed up the elevator shaft with the help of Zero-G, making their way to the bridge. Meanwhile Turbine and Orlov began their search for the hostages, and a safe transmitter.
“God damn it, we shouldn’t even be here,” Rom gasped,
When Marcus and the Sergeant arrived on the bridge, they drew their weapons upon the hijackers, and before they even knew they were being taken, Ramsey shouted,
“Stand up asshole,”
The ships layout was just like that of the Hammer of Dawn, and at the helm the person stood up and turned around.
“You have nothing he said,”
“You control nothing,”
Ramsey pulled back the hammer on his sidearm,
“Where are the rest of your goons?” he asked,
The hijacker turned to face the computer and came onto the loud speaker,
“They are here,” he said,
Ramsey fired two rounds into his back; one round went the whole way through, punching a whole in the computer screen, the other stuck in his spine. Ramsey ran up to the computer and threw the dead hijacker onto the floor. Seconds after, an explosion occurred rattling the ship’s hull.
Back on the Hammer of Dawn the overseer and Admirals witnessed the blast,
“Jesus Christ!” the overseer exclaimed,
The entire
 

Brambleclaw

Brambleclaw

Brambleclaw

Level 17
Joined
Apr 3, 2010
Messages
1,101
Better quallity contest due to more contestants allowed to submit more than just half works. There are quite a few Wips and only a few finals ._.. Anyway i guess im out i'd submit my wip but its not 2000 words i dont think yet anyway :L no pointing writing half a story :L
 

HINDYhat

HINDYhat

HINDYhat

Level 20
Joined
Apr 22, 2007
Messages
1,960
This is what I have so far. I won't finish it, unless if there's an extension, and even then. I have the entire story worked out but I can't bring myself to actually write it.


Space Crazy

Nads rose and fell.

"Jeez, it's pie, I swear!"

The priest crossed his arms and sighed. "Why everyone listens to you is a mystery. I certainly don't anymore, and neither does God. You've tricked us all more than a few times."

Nads rose and fell again, leaving a sweaty outline on the floor.

The cook set one dirty hand on his hip and thrust a pointed finger toward the priest's face. "Listen, Jeez, do you have a problem with pie, or something?"

"Pie, just yesterday, you insisted that your legal name was Cake. Why must you play these Games with me?"

Nads rose and stayed upright this time, taking a break from her sit-ups. "Hey, dicksmack, nobody cares what your name is. Just finish preparing the damned simili simili-beef bourguignon and shut up."

Ianele the priest nodded. "It seems our Lord Above agrees with the captain, for once. You'd best listen, or feel the wrath of both your divine superiors." He winked at Nadija. A frustrated vein exploded somewhere in her sweaty forehead.

Nadija captained this vessel. Its name was irrelevant, since none of its illiterate crew actually knew it. Ianele the priest, often called Jeez by his companions, liked to believe that he could read, but in reality he was just exceptionally good at spontaneously generating sentences that sounded right, and used this talent to feign comprehension.

Pie was about to burst of anger, when he suddenly glimpsed the Doctor's long auburn hair and petite physique at roughly 1/1.618th of the way through his field of view, and shrank in a puff of steam.

Doc' shifted uncomfortably in her AspergerSecurehelmet™ and stared at something in the distance that didn't exist. “Hi,” she mumbled, “I am ready for dinner, mom.” She was disobedient when she first joined the ship's crew, until Nads noticed that the Doctor always craved breast milk. Convincing Doc' that Nadija was her mother was the easy part.

The crew settled down on the floor and slowly began gnawing at their stringy simili simili-beef bourguignon. Each person brought forth the day's tidings and other remarks: Nads talked about a muscle she had never noticed before; Pie discussed how delectable their food was, and how much it resembled actual animal meat; Jeez contributed a prayer of some sort; and Doc' reminisced about her university days.

"You use the hash protection system... onto the back of the queue... solve an advanced matrix, vector or differential... use these engineering principles to construct a garbage container similar to this one... try overclocking your—"

"WHAT? A garbage container?!" replied the entire crew, jointly dropping each of their mangled rat dinners (they were eating rats, by the way).

Doc' actually faced Nadija instead of staring at her feet. "Building garbage containers is a trivial task. The most common way currently uses a construction method called Galactic Dumpster Injection which when coupled with amortized analysis of augmented red-black tree lazy deletion and assuming that the Cartesian product of any family of nonempty sets is a nonempty set itself, the rest follows. This procedure clearly implies that we are in such a garbage container now."

Nobody understood nor heard this nonsense anyway because Ianele had been flailing his arms in the air and yelling in tongues for the past thirty seconds and Pie had been wailing. Nads bolted to her feet in an instant, like a rainbow shooting out of a gay man's mouth, and began pacing.

"Of course, your unrest seems logical, due undoubtedly to our impending death," added the Doctor. "Some might say this is a disadvantage, but in modern times, stellar incineration truly is the most efficient method to dispose of trash. I believe I can feel my blood temperature rising even as we speak."

Giant wastebaskets usually are not equipped with windows, so none of the crew really knew how long they had to live. Thankfully for them, the Doctor was mistaken in believing that her high temperature meant that they were approaching the star's corona. In fact, she had simply been suffering from breast milk withdrawal symptoms.

The station's docking port awkwardly forked the garbage container in a gentle grasp that ripped a hole through its hull. Rats and soiled space diapers rushed through the opening, and just as Nadija thought her heart would be the next thing off the ship, the cacophony ended abruptly and the entire crew violently melded with the ship's cargo. She punched a hole through her grave of trash and cartwheeled to safety.

Nads peered through the newly added jagged window in the container's side and saw a thin grey corridor. She dived through and watched her crewmates struggle to not cut themselves on the jagged edge. Finally, when they all stoop upright in the corridor, Nadija turned around and came face-to-face with around a dozen grinning dwarf-like creatures.

As self-proclaimed captain, Nadija introduced herself and her crew to the flock of imps. Every other second, a few more would join them and stare.

"Nadija," exclaimed one of the dwarves. His grin transformed into a giant banana.

Doc' stroked her chin in contemplation. "How interesting. These beings speak our tongue, and God knows how far away we are from Earth." Ianele swiftly produced a pocket paperback edition of a holy book from his pocket and skimmed through the pages. He sighed, "No, even He does not."

As the crew walked forward, the dwarves cleared a path. Finally, the corridor branched in a 'T', and the only thing that stood between Nadija and the emptiness of space was a massive window. She stared, doe-eyed, and witnessed what truly was a hive of tens of thousands of space stations, each foreign and unique, orbiting around a bright yellow star, with countless ships buzzing back and forth between destinations.

The Doctor began, "Well the principle is... and with astronomical probabilities... could point towards a failing hard drive... I think you would need to contact NASA or—"

Suddenly, all of the dwarves burst out in unanimous laughter. By now, there were hundreds of them. The crew looked at each other for some reason and waited for the howling to stop, but it stretched on for minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, a slick black arrowhead-shaped two person spaceship veered into view and set itself down somewhere in the mass of guffawing little people. Nadija grabbed Pie with her right hand and Doc' with her left, swung Ianele over her shoulder, and headed towards the faint rumbling noise. Once again, the dwarves rolled out of their way, until the crew came upon the vessel and two new figures: what looked like large and thick upright wolf with a stern face and giant teeth, and a tall thin blonde man wearing a clown's nose and a glamorous green robe.

The man produced some colored balls and juggled them for an instant before deeply bowing to Doc'. His slithery tongue began, "O, my people shame me!" He swept his arm to his left and sighed, "These ones proclaimed you a beauty, but truly you are more than a simple ornament!" He covered his eyes for an instant, and then uncovered them again. "I am unworthy to witness such fairness, but then so are these ones," he exclaimed, pointing to the dwarves. A faint chuckle sounded from somewhere in the crowd.

Doc' attempted to blush but failed, and instead blurted out something about eigenvalues and the rational canonical form. Laughted erupted from all around her; even the blonde man chuckled. "And to be gifted with such comedic talent! Truly, a wonder!" He bowed once again. "Forgive me, my lady, but I have forgotten my manners, and you look confused." He entwined his arm with the Doctor's and slowly brought her around the station.

"Welcome to the Colony..." The man waved his arm towards a huge window "... a collection of tens of thousands of stations, harboring hundreds of thousands of species. I am councillor Raul, elite member of the Colony's Grand Council of Elder Comics and one of the chosen rulers." He glanced at the werewolf that walked beside him. "This is my pet, Kim." The wolf made a queer noise that made Raul suddenly stiffen. He took a silent moment to compose himself and continued, explaining among other things a set of laws that the entire crew forgot within seconds.

Raul stopped. "You have much to learn of our ways, no doubt, but you must still answer to our call." He turned and stared into Doc's sexy green eyes. "My people have elected you as grand comic councillor, to rule at my side." He pulled her closer and whispered, tickling the rim of her ear with his sharp tongue. "It is an offer you cannot refuse." She shook away from him, but came face to chest with a growling Kim and quickly doubled back in Raul's arms.

Her voice wanted to be shaky, but instead was monotonous and indifferent. "Okay."
 

The World Is Flat

The World Is Flat

The World Is Flat

Level 30
Joined
Mar 9, 2009
Messages
6,276
Windflower Story

Here is my submission, it is entitled Windflower.

As a note, I'm slightly disappointed with how it came out. I rushed to finish it, so it's not the fully fleshed out story I originally intended. It's much shorter and I skimped on the details and the embellishments through the second half. It would be nice to have an extension but it is not at all necessary.

I also had to change minor elements of the plot and world and didn't have the chance to make editations. I felt it was necessary to make the submission since I had decided to enter the contest; this is not on par with my normal level of writing. I usually spend several weeks editing and proofreading. If the judges are overworked I would be perfectly fine with allowing them to pass over this submission. Thank you very much.

- twif

A red light strobed on and off, its pattern of flashing was simple: every few seconds it would emit two flashes, and then shortly afterward it would flash again. Nobody was around to see the console; nobody usually was. The station’s two operators normally passed the time shooting cards in the old maintenance shed the lifts ride down from the dormitories; but not that they could really be called that. Minor outposts were stationed every one hundred and fifty miles along the equator, and again every fifty miles in places further to the north and south.

The light faded on and off. It was dark outside, the night cycle of the planet Demeter was almost exactly double that of the Earth cycle, which made keeping time surprisingly easy. Transport and deployment stations such as this were primarily automated assemblies. Robots totted in the harvests, or reported for repairs, and those were orchestrated by machine. Everything was automated. The only human input required was when the repair systems became damaged, and when the computer systems needed updates. The old AI cores were shut down years ago, after the Sangrino Case. They hadn’t actually been disassembled, but nobody was going to check an obscure maintenance outpost on an equally obscure planet.

The red light strobed on and off again, three times. Then a fourth. Another light shook on, issuing this time a pale blond glow. Lights began to flicker on in the hallways. The air conditioning rumbled in the deeper parts. Circulation was sedate, the thin air ushered through eddies at the rooms and compartments, seeping hesitantly down the narrow corridors. The facility had a sour demeanor that kept away the light of heart. The sleeping quarters were spare and compressed; no flourishes for creature comfort. At turns in the walkways the elbow joints of steel stuck out menacingly at the level of knee and eye. The old machines were temperamental, malfunctioning with habitually bad timing. The operators had to know the schedules of the generators, of the recycling, of the updates, memorize the daily checklists, know the way through the maze and how the wiring went.

Berty Adams woke ten minutes before he needed to and crept soundlessly from his bunk not wanting to disturb his brother. The door to the mess swung open smoothly and he felt for a vile of water. Somehow he collected the box with the right tea and started brewing. The room was a little brisk and his feet reproached the cool damp steel, making swirls through the thin vapor. Sensing movement the light went on and the table’s shadowed stretched over the tile. He sat to take in the sounds, smell the aromas of chamomile and chrysanthemum. A door was open on the black and lifeless hallway. Then a red bulb grew and dimmed, then again, casting crimson ambiance. Berty was studying his knuckles, thinking about the old harvest processor that needed work.

As a liquid swept through the network of pipes in the walls, the expanding metals yapped tersely. Gauge pointers whined, their springs and pivots corroded. Above the refrigerator in the store room the valve box gave way with a pop. The heated fluid coursed to a generator in the blackness at the back. Gurgling liquids and fumes within its looping chambers, clicking and clacking gears, in a minute yielded a dull hum. On the control board two eyes of chartreuse light blinked and glowed keenly. The heavier generators, buried beneath layers of floor, ramped up with a subtle crackle of volts. Cooling fans whirred, dragging unwanted warmth from the facility’s bowels. Dusty overhead lamps mounted in strips declared their firm white beams through the stale atmosphere, light spilling into shimmers of mist upon the steel floor. The vents started up their sucking, and the moisture vapors would be gone in half an hour. This was the facility’s groggy withdrawal from inactivity. It was when the lubrication uncongealed, when the framework stiffened in anticipation, when the old conduits were inundated with fresh energy.

The peal of the dawn alarm woke Tim. His hair was muggy and matted around his scalp. He stayed limp through the ringing, gazed at a wall, forgot what he was dreaming. It must have been six o’clock. It was dim and still; there was a band of light under the door. In the mess a spigot gushed water and the legs of a chair scraped. After ten seconds the alarm was silent and Tim rolled over wanting the comfort to stay. Until he was up and had breakfast he only processed simple emotions. His breath fogged the window pane. In the dark he saw the stars and the two moons half-faded to navy velvet. One of the glimmers was Earth’s sun. It was almost too far away to care about. Over the horizon was a soft yellow-blue hue. Smooth curving land a deep shadowed auburn, and all flat except for the turtle-shell shape of John’s Hill eight miles southwest and the lonely silhouettes: the machines craning, loosening their joints. Fifty miles into the sky moved plumes of ice crystals, clouds thinning at the rim of the Troposphere. They moved west with the Jet. By noon the surface winds would cast up the sand and iron dust and the heat would birth mid-altitude cumulus clouds; billowing red masses. The temperature would be over ninety Fahrenheit.

Tim found himself vibrating. A white light poked on at the headboard and there was a marginal beep announcing the cleaning about to commence. In the undercarriage a plastic tube jerked and ballooned out like a bloated artery, subtly hissing and sputtering air. Tim’s brow furrowed at the interruption. His blankets unscrupulously shifted. Clumsily he reached with numb morning fingers. In a second his coverings made a complete retreat, and with an audible swallow were pulled down the plastic tube. In the wake the vibrating subsided and the tube flattened. Quietness. Tim’s chest rose and fell, the ribs pulling up and stretching the skin enough to count them. In his blue britches he felt exposed. The draft brushed his skin, raising pebbly goose-bumps.

Taciturnly he rose, swung his legs over the side, shimmied to the ladder, and tenderly lowered down. He could smell Berty’s tea. It was sweet like their mother’s sweater after she walked through the dewy zinnias, plucking flowers. He made his way to the bathroom, and the glass panel slid up, then down behind him. It was a compact space the size of a closet. The plumbing showed, rimming the floor. There were no uncontrolled drips, rampant stains or plagues of rust running over the intestinal tracts. There use to be a voice issuing from the overhead, saying welcome and asking how to serve; Berty soon lost patience with it and ripped it out. In a cupboard made makeshift of paneling and wire Tim scooped his small cylindrical case. The label was scratched off, in its place was his name. He pried it open, tipping it over his palm. A narrow contraption fell out, slate grey except the stark jade compound lenses. It was metallic, an inch long, lacquered shiny, and inert. Minute strands like legs were curled petrified at the sides, and a pair of wires folded against the rigid back. Along the flanks were inscriptions, reading: ‘Alexander H’ Tim passed it under a trickle of the faucet water. Droplets swept over it and were absorbed into the sheath of osmotic cells, which triggered pulses of stored electricity that coalesced at the artificial heart. It suddenly became alive, scuttling like an arthritic cockroach. Tim only felt feather brushes. It circled over his fingers and paused to taste the salts and toxins. A magnetic belt zinged along the neck joint, transporting binary data to the thorax. The two wires propped up like antenna.

Tim held it to his face, inspecting. The carapace was segmented into flaps and they rattled with a mechanical humming, between the cracks showing blue LED’s and blurry parts. It crept to his lips, he exposed his teeth, and became perfectly still. The Alexander PH, with clockwork precision, raised its front limbs and brushed each tooth until all shone white. The task completed with a beep. Tim plucked it from his palm and squeezed the midriff. The antennae drooped and it hung as if sleeping. It would recharge in its case.

When Tim entered the mess he was in his white and green uniform. The leggings were too long and he folded them into his shoes. In the brighter light he squinted, seeing blossoming yellow and black shapes; a scene of cubic impressionism. He saw Berty.

Berty looked up from his hands. “Good morning man,” he said. “Tea’s on the counter.”

Tim’s brother had a tall lean trunk and bony legs. If he stood he was six feet on the nose. His hair was ink-black and curly; uncombed, cropping over blue-green eyes like globes of freshwater algae. A scratch across the end of his nose was still healing. At twenty-five there were streaks of stubble on his cheeks. His gaze was calm, and the smile he had denied a day’s ardors. And Tim smiled too.

“Thanks,” he said. The thermos was warm to the touch. It leaked a trail of steam, a stubby wisp. Tim saddled a chair. He rolled his limbs to get out the kinks.

“About time to report?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got ten minutes,” Berty said. He did not look for a clock. He was a walking clock and seemed to have gotten the time correct with three minutes margin of error.

“So just that old harvester, right?”

“Yep.” The old harvester had pipes worn down by beating sun, wind abrasion and old age. The routine was to phase out equipment after use for ten years, but the company was reluctant to make new expenditures. It was too cheap, waiting for the noticeable technological improvements. Plus the boys had filed meticulous reports on it every week and been careful with the updates. The first machine they’d worked on and the last one they would see go to the recycling.

“What do you want to do about it?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know.” It seemed it was reaching the end of its lifespan, as all machines inevitably must. Eventually it becomes more than a matter of replacing a defaced, short-circuiting computer brain or a gummed servo-motor in the hip. The essence fails, the atoms coming apart, disintegrating and depreciating, and only millions of credits and weeks of work might rejuvenate it – sort of like trying to transplant lab-grown nerve cells into an amputee.

“The diagnostic report is on the counter.” Berty said. “Did you look at it?” Four slices of white paper scrawled in scrambled letters and symbols. The language of the technicians.

“Yeah,” Tim said.

“What did it say?” Berty took a sip of his thermos. He knew the lingo well enough and he was as sharp as his brother, but his mentality angled toward fiddling with bolts, soldering chips, and tweaking electronics. He liked the hands on trial and error approach, not so much the tech manuals.

“That’s the thing,” Tim said. “I couldn’t get what was going on. Everything looked pretty good.”

“Think it’s a data problem?”

“No.” Tim’s tea was steaming, untouched.

“How do you know?”

“I mean if it was a data problem, everything would be coming from the cloud, right? That means everything else would be having trouble too. But it’s just this one.”

As he leaned back and the metal connections of the chair mewed, protesting.

“There might be something wrong with the modem…” he went on. “But it would have to be wiring. I think we should just get a close look at it. I don’t know, maybe look over the diagnostics a little more thoroughly.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Berty rubbed his head, casting strands over his brow. He did that when he was antsy. “Hey, did the error report give you any idea?”

Tim shrugged. “I didn’t really pay attention to that.”

Sudden silence as the air conditioning shut off, then restarted with a draining gurgle. A complacent whine signaled the north loading bay opening. The sounds of the moving harvesters were dulled by the facility insulation. Already time for the first load. The processors must be preparing to fire. When they engaged the facility would really tremble, thrusting themselves across the rollers, blasting high-pressure water at the vegetables and the fruits, sorting and arranging for the delivery to the central processing facility.

Berty sipped his tea. “Well doesn’t that usually tell you what might be up?”

“A good place to start, I suppose,” Tim said. “I don’t usually trust that thing, though.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, it’s just bullshit – it’s a silly computer.”

“Whatever you say, Tim.”

Tim’s fingers wrapped around his tea thermos, felt the warmth radiate up his arm. The aroma was almost intoxicating, and he half-wished to be back in the cot. He tasted the filtered water. “Mmh, good tea.”

“Yeah, pretty good,” Berty said. He was getting up and behind his back the red bulb flared and dimmed.

Tim did not notice. He was looking at the terminal over the counter. “Nothing else to do today?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” The terminal was as wide and tall as a breadbox, as deep as a pancake. A motion detector responded to Berty’s presence, the screen lighting up bright as the sun’s reflection off a pool of mercury. He blinked.
“Hope it can hear me with all the racket,” he said. The facility had woken and was rumbling, clangs and chimes reverberating. In succession the percussion clash of wooden and plastic crates against one another, steel ramps extending and retracting, conveyor belts and mechanical arms rotating. The spray of water over leaves, dirt splattering a grate. Harvesters departing and the bay door sealing shut.

Berty leaned close to the terminal and said his name. “ID 9882 dash Adams.” He had to enunciate clearly for the voice recognition software. But it rarely made mistakes. In another couple seconds he was logged in and looked at a pop-up message.

“So this is the schedule they have us on. Not much new, just the usual quota.” He scrolled down. He was looking at a spreadsheet, columns and rows describing items to complete by the end of the shift. The cells highlight in pale orange were tasks carried out by the machines.

“I’d better log on now,” Tim said.

Berty was still looking. When he scrolled down far enough he saw the media, the graphs and the diagrams and the maps. Readouts from the sensory stations across the planet. Projected temperatures. Approaching triple digits Fahrenheit in the coming afternoon. He saw a weather forecast.

“Oh, man, the Tethys system is on its way.”

Tim’s chair scraped as he rose and went to look over his brother’s shoulder.

“Drivin’ right over us in the new few days. Lots of wind.

“Whoa,” Tim pointed, “80 kilometers sustained?”

“That’s not surface level, or there would be an advisory,” Berty said.

The storm was a point of curiosity for meteorologists. Unlike Jupiter where the intense heat seeping from the gaseous planet fueled its roving red eye, Demeter was geologically stable. There was an animation that Berty watched with his mouth slightly open. A bolt of lightning tinged purple against grey cumulonimbus cloud score a gas track through the air moving horizontally what had to be tens of miles; then jerked, curved around and dove for the ground. Where it struck, particulate matter burst forth in a jagged mass, and when it cleared there was a blackened crater a quarter-mile in diameter.

Tim shook his head. He’d seen the carnage first hand, the power of the positive lightning unmatched by the mostly tame negative lightning of Earth. A single bolt could reach 35,000 degrees Celsius and turn anything in its path to plasma. He went to the window between the cupboards. It looked out over the sloping dome of the facility front entrance. The sun was rising boldly, an infernal disk. The reflection made the facility glossy, extenuating the shadows, brightening the glass and steel faces. From the ground level issued a red glow, strobbing on and off in the sheltered darkness.

“That must be it,” Tim said. Straight out to the horizon was a band of dark orange, sediment kicked up and whipped around. The span of it was colossal, curving with the earth out of Tim’s sight.

“What’d you say?” Berty said. But he was distracted; attention rapt to the next animation: billowing sand driven by a screaming gust, ripping out plump sugar beets from neat rows. He watched as the plants thudded against the hull of a harvester, the machine struggling to keep its balance. Those were some of the dire conditions that rarely occurred, and hadn’t for dozens of years. Normally the storm’s wrath was kept high in the air in the low pressure layer created between the jet stream and the hot dry surface zone. The Tethys Storm System was a two-thousand kilometer long, one-thousand-kilometer cluster of storm cells that roamed the firmament, circumnavigating once a year. Its course always meanders unpredictably as temperature and other wind movements direct. In the attempt to stave off possible crop damage, scientists had been experimenting with boomers to alter local atmospheric pressure. Two years ago over a vulnerable crop patch they cut a gap in the storm, and could see the orange sky and daylight, like some rift made by divine ordinance. Disappointingly, the gap failed and a redoubled surge blew the satellite dish from an outpost, and in five minutes the gap was overrun by the torrents of rain and soon after the rushing clouds.

Tim set his hand to the window pane, leaving a condensation imprint. It was cold. He beheld the surface of the world, a smooth arch dipping below the quarter-sliver of the fast rising sun. The distant loom of the great storm was days away, he knew. He could see the outlines of dozens of outposts receding to the size of ants. Although Demeter’s circumference was twice Earth’s, the atmosphere was just slightly denser, with average pressure at 139,000 Pa. Oxygen was a recent addition, introduced at the beginning of the terraforming process.

Berty knocking open cupboard doors drew Tim’s hand away. He was rummaging through plastic trays, and pulled out a couple of prepared breakfast bowls, nudging one at Tim who’d turned to face the terminal’s sharp glow.

“You should have eaten before logging in,” he said. “ID 9881 dash Adams.”

Berty acted like he didn’t hear the jibe. He pried off the seal of his bowl and scooped colorful nuts into the green slop. “Not hungry?”

Tim eyed the concoction reproachfully. “Maybe later. Its too early.” The schedule unfolded itself before his eyes. “This is interesting; it looks like they’ve changed something.”

“They have? Like what?”

“Uh, the weather forecast. And because it will be hotter they want us to double-check the irrigation.”

“No problem, is it? Just a hike down to the cellars.”

“Sure.” He did not mind. On shift he did most anything thrust his way. But he was puzzled by the sudden change. The schedules were preplanned hours in advance, after extensive computer calculations and approval by the regional manager. They were not altered on the fly. But Tim let the matter simmer. There was a rug back in the bunk room but he didn’t care. On the hard floor he dropped and did thirty push-ups. The veins in his skull were cleared of some of the gunk. He felt more alive, more meaty.

Fifteen minutes later he was tasting grease, jostling a wrench in the belly of the old harvester. The bolt he wedged out let fall a steel slab and Berty cursed.

“– my hand!”

“Hurt?”

“No, no. Almost.” They jerked metal parts and swapped out rubber tubes in silence until Berty asked: “Pass me that silicone gel, will you?”

Tim handed it. It came in a green package indistinguishable from the candy bar wrappers vended in the storage room.

“I’ll run the diagnostics again to see if we’ve made a difference. I kind of doubt it.”

A red light issued across the ceiling like flowing, viscous glass. It strobed with a rhythm like the steady beat of a heart. On and off. And again. It cast long fuzzy shadows behind the rafters.

“See that?” Tim asked. Berty was looking through the skeleton of the harvester. He popped out gazing, mystified.

“What do you make of it?”

“Never seen it before,” Tim said. He glanced at the yellow cautionary strobes and the pale strip lights and the pale bulbs hanging under apertures in the walls and scratched his chin.

Three hundred and twenty kilometers to the east, Station Diomedes was a hive of activity. The facility sprawled twelve acres. It was a gargantuan brick of wrought iron braced with curved stainless steel plates for aerodynamics. Extruding from its faces ran elevated monorails, snaking and branching out with twenty feet clearance over the terrain. It was the heavy transporters that used them for moving the harvest from the outposts. At Diomedes over three million tons of vegetables were processed each day cycle.

Anne Cornell was at her desk. It was a perch overlooking the control room, a cylindrical chamber, where terminals lined the walkway. As the regional manager she liked to keep all staff in her sights. There were six people seated at sporadic intervals running their hands over the touch screens, pausing to rifle through papers on their tables or reach for an operator’s manual. Matthias Cobb came up beside her breathing heavily.

“Well Anne, I checked with the other outpost operators. No anomalies, they said, but they did say there were gamma rays from the storm.”

“That’s usual,” she said. “But I seriously doubt that’s our problem, Matthias. Don’t you? Andreas and Eliza have access to the laboratory samples, right?”

“Yeah, they should. It might take a minute for them to find anything.”

He took a seat at the adjacent desk.

“I can be more useful when you tell me what’s going on, exactly.”

He probed his chin up with an elbow, adopting a thinking pose. He was stout, blond hair trimmed in a buzz, and had to be in his mid twenties. By comparison Anne was tall and thin, a head or two taller than him.

“I thought I told you. The fungus in the potting soil in the greenhouse.” She shook her head, consumed with reading a document.

“Yeah, what about it? At the Adams Outpost?”

“Yes. Look at this.” She pressed a finger against a thumbnail image on her monitor, and linked it over to Matthias’ monitor.

From the block of text Matthias read aloud the highlights. “The Forager III probe noted yesterday that the habasin rans fungus has spread to fields CD132 and CD133… The fungus easily clings to the roots, and is estimated to be transmitted from plant to plant rapidly during the harvesting and processing periods. All crops in the Adams outpost may be infected.” His eyes widened at the presumptive statement. “What – this is ridiculous. This is a hypothesis of fungal proliferation we’ve never noticed anywhere else before. The habasin has –”

Anne raised a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Keep reading. That explains it all.”

He read on. “At first contact the fungus infects within fifteen minutes. None of the cleaning processes currently standard have been known to kill it. Only extreme heat has the capacity. An infected plant remains indistinguishable from a non-infected for hours, due to the miniscule size of the fungi. The first visible symptoms would not appear until after processing is complete.” Matthias paused.

“You see?” Anne asked. “Where are your coders? We need them here now. This is urgent.”

“Let me understand this. OK, so – so a batch of plants might be infected with this fungus. This is at the Adams Outpost?”

“Right. And the infected plants are due to be transported to a waystation where they will be blended with about a hundred thousand tons of others. And we’re talking leafy greens, lots of light perishable leafy greens. So I need you to –“

Matthias was already up and moving. He checked his watch. “– You need me to make sure those infected plants don’t end up infecting the others. Because eating them kills people, right?”

“As far as we know they are toxic. You on it?”

“Have you contacted the Adams brothers.”

“As is typical they did not respond.”

Matthias turned his back, skipped down the translucent staircase, and passed out of sight. He went to the analytics deck, slapped his hands on the shoulders of the duo, Andreas and Eliza. They jumped.

“God Matthias.”

“Look, cram it. Just – do as I say.”

At the Adams outpost, Tim and Berty watched as, in succession, the lights dimmed and went out, leaving only the red alert pulsation. The wafting cool air subsided. In the depths there were the clangs of the loading transporter.

“Dammit, what the hell can we do now?” Berty bashed a door, the power lock sealed.

“Why’s the power gone dead?”

“It must be control. They’ve frozen us down.”

“Then they have to know what is going on. Hopefully they’ll take care of this…”

“Hopefully – hell, we can’t rely on that. That transporter is out of here in five minutes. It’s direct looped into the automated system. Remember the schedule change? It has to be running independent of the main system. They can’t –”

“Hang on, what’s that sound?”

Through the viewing pane, through a fog of lightlessness nearly pitch black, over the jerking arms of the harvesters readying crates, the brothers could discern the frame of the transporter beginning to shift.

“It’s leaving?”

“It’s leaving…”

A hiss of the depressurizing motor, the half-cheerful groan of the steel taking off without a full burden. Tim scratched his ear.

“So what…? What does this mean?”

Then with sudden gusto over the loudspeakers bloomed a voice, the voice of Matthias Cobb.

“Boys, say hello to your rescuer. The transporter has just departed without loading. The harvesters might be confused for a few minutes, but no issue. We’ve dispatched a crew to0 your location to mop up the infected plants. We’ll be purging the fields with a chemical bath over the next few weeks. As for you – well, it’s too bad you guys didn’t make note of the matter sooner. But we can’t really blame you, since you’re the techies. Enjoy the rest of your day. Mattias Cobb out.”


I would definitely enjoy an extension to allow me to complete this story in its intended fashion.
 
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