Yeah, I sort of only want to post these since I spent time on them and I don't want it to go to waste. I just want someone to read them, but I don't think any of them are particularly good. This is more of a graveyard than a dump, since I don't know if I'll ever get around to finishing these.
Each one of these is unfinished, so expect truncated endings.
A really exaggerated thing that I wanted to include all the people I talk to on nation (I have a different project for that now, so this one is most likely dead):
[SPOILER="Spoiler"]Hot rancid blood spattered onto his firm, chiseled upper body. His tired muscles rippled as he continued his gruesome and arousing fight. Every ferocious foe that got in Conor’s way was brutally cut down with a swift slice of his blade. Sweat had been accumulating on his brow, and it was mixing with the blood of his enemies and dripping into his eyes.
The pitiful creatures so unfortunate to be called his foes were, in fact, Jarkackles. Half-Jackal, Half-Hyena, Half-Man abominations that snarled and scowled at his presence.
Though ferocious in their appearance they were (they had all the most terribly frightening qualities of each of their primitive forms) they were nothing but butter to Conor, who was a hot blade, cutting through their ranks with such ease he even made it look like a poetic and graceful dance.
One by one, warriors, covered in the dirt and grime and sweat of battle, found their muscles tired, and their eyes fatigued. Everything about this battle seemed to be stacked against them, especially that their foe was one so powerful and devastating as Conor.
The sun seemed to shine down unfairly, and bake their skin and weapons and armor to the extreme degrees, while Conor was cooled by gentle breezes that licked all over his body, soothing and caressing his tired muscles and filling him with renewed vigor. Bright glares off the armor of comrades seemed to always shine directly into their eyes, blinding them temporarily. By the time the glare was lifted and their sight restored, Conor’s sword had replaced the cruel light and soon relieved them of any fatigue of battle.
Not a single one of them, not even their most fine and strongest warriors, could even last more than a few minutes against Conor’s brilliant fury. They would do better simply hurling their bodies into great mounds against him so as to impede his incessant forward progress. Like a hound or a lion fixated on his prey, Conor was determined and not to be deterred.
Conor’s quarry was the one and only leader of this rag-tag pack of bloodthirsty mangled disfigurements. Conor had caught the trail the alpha 3 days past and had not stopped hunting him save to sleep and eat. The leader of this pack was ferocious indeed. He stood 3 heads taller than his comrades, and was bulkier to match. His hide was lacerated with countless scars of battles won, and his clothes were highly ornamented; in this culture, a sign of ‘other conquests’. A huge and menacing blade hung from the creature’s hip. It had no clear edge, but was chipped and crooked, more resembling a sharp row of jagged teeth than a blade.
As soon as this beast caught sight of Conor’s visage, the terrible beast turned right around and abandoned field, for he knew if he stayed that his life would be over sooner than he could count to ten (these beasts are terrible at counting.) He also knew that running would not help his chances or time whatsoever. At best, it would give him till he could count to twelve. However, he clung stubbornly to life, and chose to abandon his pack to save his own hide.
Like fragile bubbles popping en masse, the Jarkackles were erased from this world just as abruptly as they appeared. And then there was no one left to defend the alpha. In his stupid haste to escape, the dumb beast had ran himself against a cliff. Turning around, he saw Conor stepping calmly closer and closer, still being harassed by gentle winds.
The beast looked over the edge and saw where the water splashed violently against the rocks. Then it looked back at Conor, and at his sword dripping with the blood of all its fallen brothers. It looked over the edge one last time and then snarled loudly, “Better to die at the hands of the earth, than by your bloodstained hands, heathen!†And with that, it hurled its body over the cliff, to the sweet embrace of death. However, the alpha’s passing would not go as planned. No sooner than he had jumped did he hear footsteps at the cliff’s edge.
Upon turning upward to look at what he imagined would be Conor’s defeated face, the alpha was shocked to see Conor crouching, blade upright, just at the lip of the cliff. Letting his body go slack, Conor waited till the very last moment when his blade was pointed directly at the creature’s heart to push against the cliff face with all his might and leap toward his prey, closing distance fast.
You could not imagine the dread and lament that this creature felt. In the very act of running away, he stranded himself with nowhere to go. Now Conor descended like an dire angel from on high, bearing bloody news. The last words that were spoken to this beast came from Conor’s supple lips.
“Your death will not be so graceful, nor as merciful. My goddess demands your head, and she will have it.†And with that, Conor turned the beast around so that he would see his fate approaching, while also moving his own body so that the body of the beast would break his own fall, preventing him from any harm. A shrill cry resounded along the shore and coast, and a few gruesome seconds later, a grotesque crunching sound mixed with the sounds of waves crashing against rock.
As Conor leaves the battlefield, he carries the alpha’s severed head with him.
And all these events took place across the Eclyptian sea. Conor had been summoned by his goddess away from his home, where his darling lover Kueh waited patiently. In Conor’s absence, many came vying to undo that which he had spent most of his life building. His home was the largest on the island, and there were servants and food and security, more so than elsewhere.
It was on this dark and stormy night that Kueh was visited by Conor’s goddess for the first time, though he scarcely knew it was her. Badb had disguised herself as an elderly man seeking shelter from the rain. The stranger was kindly welcomed inside and was given generous hospitality. Badb introduced herself as Osidius, and quickly proved herself to be a font of much knowledge and wisdom in Kueh’s eyes.
When the storm began to rile and frighten the livestock, Osidius provided the method by which they were able to be calmed. And when water began to seep through the walls, roof, and floor in certain areas of the house, it was Osidius who instructed the servants on how to defend these areas of Conor’s home against seepage.
Because of these acts, and others which I have not told you about, that Kueh was compelled to ask the stranger to stay longer. Osidius turned out not to be only very wise in matters of practicality, but also quite knowledgeable in artistic and creative matters, and spent many hours of the following days reciting poems such majesty and stories of such wonder that Kueh was very captivated, though some were sad and reminided him of Conor’s absence.
On the third day of lodging there, Badb visited Kueh in his sleep and spoke to him in his dreams. It was then that Kueh was told of where his love, Conor, was, and what had befallen him.[/SPOILER]
Inspired by the time Joel had to change store locations:
[SPOILER="Spoiler"]"We thought it over. About who to send," my superior officer told me, "And you were the only one who stood out."
Those were the first words I heard that day, and the last that were on my mind. They didn't even give me much time to pack, or say goodbye to my friends and family. They already had a case with everything they said I would need. They said that the dorm I would be housed in was well supplied.
And so here I was, on the hoverail, the planet’s famous high-speed railway system that covered most of the landmasses, being shipped to the express spaceport so that I could go live on some rebellious colony that needed to be shown an example of how to behave.
When I joined GCAT 6 years ago, this wasn't how I imagined I would be serving the republic.
I read the report off my PCA. I would be taken on a ship named the IPVC-Kamchatka. The first part stood for “Interplanetary Vessel, Commercial classâ€. I guess they wanted me over there as soon as possible. Couldn’t even wait for a proper military ship to send me. It was no use muttering under my breath, though I did it anyway. The train lurched and churned on the tracks as it made its way ever closer to the port. Wait...the train did what?
I got up and looked out the window. Nothing. The train was suspended by a magnetic field, it wasn't supposed to bump around. I glanced over at one of the on-board paper advertisements, one of the few non-electric ads around. The beautiful lady in a red dress leaned back with headphones in retro style that mimicked the 1950's. Why anyone would think some destitute age from well over 400 years ago was charming was beyond me, but that's not what was bothering me.
The words on the ad read, "So smooth, a ride like the breath of a cloud." Did the train run over something? Surely the driver would know if something happened. I made my way up the cars, one by one. It was oddly serene how smooth the train was now. No swaying, no bumping, even though the on-board speedometer said we were going well over 200 kilometers per hour. And there was something else.
The train was completely empty. I hadn't been paying attention till now, but even so, SOMEONE else should have boarded with me. I could have sworn that there were others getting on and off, even though I wasn't looking. Instead, I had been gazing at the horizon. The pitch black lowlands at night offered the perfect contrast to gaze at the flickering azure flashes that were various bioluminescent organisms living in the few forests and oceans left. A stark contrast to the other side of the view. Just by turning around I would be assaulted by every harsh neon color that could be imagined as whole buildings illuminated themselves. The whole city was a paint fairy's orgasm.
I was staring at the horizon again, so I didn't notice the briefcase lying in the middle of the path until I tripped on it an almost fell flat on my face. Looked around, still no one. Whose was this? I left it there and continued on my way, it didn't feel right to just take it. Whoever left it would find it.
The door to the engineer's room was locked, but my GCAT ID card should have been enough to open it. There was a beep, a harsh buzz, and a red light flash that signaled there was some error with the hardware. Not locked, then, but jammed. I couldn't see the engineer from the small window, and I worried that he might be in danger, so I popped open the panel and hastily hacked the door open. A process which would render this door non-functional till repairs were made.
My wrist-mounted Personal Computation Assistant whirred to life as I held it up to the circuitry. Prehensile wires extended from the computer that I wore on my wrist as a bracer. The wires each connected at precisely the right place, and then I issued a command to send timed surges of electricity to overload the closing mechanism. The door was forced open with a crackling sound as arcs of electricity sparked out from the now damaged panel.
Walking inside, I looked for the engineer, but...nowhere. He was just gone. It was only when the train started coming into the spaceport that I remembered I was on an express train. The train would drive directly up to the ship and hook on, then the ship would take off after only so much as a few minutes of diagnostics to make sure it was secured safely.
I wouldn't be able to talk to anyone about the disappearance of the passengers or the engineer until after we landed.
I sighed loudly, and spoke what might have been the first words to be spoken since the train had left the station, "Well, no use getting worked up over it. Maybe the engineer just figured the computers would handle everything and decided to stay behind. Can't say I blame him."
I kept trying to rationalize what had happened even as the ship began to take off. "Maybe there were people, but they realized where we were going and all got off. Yeah, that's probably right." Even though I said that, the fact that I kept seeing personal effects left on the floors and seats was disturbing me.
"They must have been in a big hurry to leave," I said as I looked around the various train compartments. If only I had kept going to the check the last one...
Instead, the doors opened to the waiting area. It looked just like a train station, other than there were no connections to the rest of the ship, and that ticket stalls and vendors were replaced with things like refreshments stands and movie-helmet rentals.
The ship was a commercial vessel, so there wasn't really any reason to let the passengers move freely about the ship. In fact, that would be quite bad, since some companies had private and sensitive cargo being shipped space-wide. Still, though, maybe I could call an engineer from the ship.
That's what I was thinking when I stepped onto the waiting platform, but my thoughts were stolen from me when I saw a familiar box-shape lying off on the ground. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the suitcase that I had tripped on earlier. Someone moved it?
"Excuse me," I announced loudly. "Is anyone here? I'm a GCAT soldier, you can trust me. Listen, whoever's there, do you know anything about what's going on? Where are all the people?"
Then it struck me...Where ARE all the people? Even though there weren't any passengers, there should still be people manning the stalls. There were usually tour guides and other solicitors on these kinds of platforms as well, but not here.
This was different from the train, though. There were no strewn articles, no forgotten hats or bags. No jackets left hanging on the backs of chairs. Everything was clean and pristine, aside from the suitcase.
I picked up the suitcase and moved to a maintenance comm panel. One of the ones that was within the information booth, but there was no one to stop me, even though it was employees only. I pressed the little red button that said “Emergency Onlyâ€
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
Static.
"Hello? This is specialist Joel Peralta with GCAT, 9th array, Battlement Hydra."
Still no answer.
This was frustrating. These comm panels were emergency only, so it shouldn't have mattered who I was, someone was supposed to be on the other side, no matter the time. I continued further back to the maintenance tunnels that allowed engineers to travel the ship for repairs.
Locked, but I wasn't surprised.
I hacked this one too, but when it opened, I couldn't have been more annoyed. Behind the sliding metal door was a wall. These people were breaking so many interplanetary laws I would need a computer just to compile them. Angrily, I went back to the maintenance comms. Popping the panel cover off, I began a hack for the third time that day.
This time, I hacked the security protocols so that I could communicate with the ships main computer. The panel screen changed to an azure globe that had little glowing azure embers spiraling around it. A disembodied voice, meant to sound like a female's, came on, and whenever she spoke, both the number and speed of the sparks on screen increased. "Warning. You are in violation of galactic code. Standby for detainment."
"Oh yeah? Who's gonna detain me? You got no one stationed here!" I shouted back at the computer. It was one of my favorite things to be sarcastic with computers, but this time I wasn't trying to entertain myself, I was genuinely frustrated.
Nevertheless, the computer paused to assess what I said before announcing, "Correct. There are no security personnel with means to reach you."
"Is that because you blocked all the maintenance tunnels? That's a crime you know."
"Dual inquiry: I will address your commands one at a time," she announced. "Assertion that I have blocked the maintenance tunnels: Incorrect. I did not block them off, though I was commanded not to remove the blockades. Inquiry into my knowledge of interplanetary law: I do know that it is a crime to obstruct maintenance tunnels, though I was not the one who did so. Thus, there is no crime."
"Who blocked them off, then?"
"I do not know."
"Why not?" the impatience in my tone was wasted on the computer.
Then she was silent for almost 4 minutes, the panel screen showed an image that signified she was processing and compiling information, "thinking" if you would call it that. The main globe shrunk till it was almost gone, and the sparks bounced up and down on the reduced orb, rather than orbiting it. Then, the screen changed back to the azure visualization again, "I have discovered several class-1 security holds on information regarding the maintenance tunnels and the person or persons who placed them there, as well as holds on reasons for why and the person who authorized such an act. In addition, there were--"
"Yeah yeah, I know," I interrupted. I knew all about how to work computers, this was grade-school level procedure for making a republic computer turn its eye from crimes you commit. Restrict information on who or why, and the computer can't take any action. No criminal, no crime. "You can spare me the details."
I smirked when the visualization changed to thinking mode for a moment before she began to speak, a signal that the list she prepared would have been long had I let her go on.
"Very well. The fact remains that you are in violation. Please wait in the designated area for security personnel to detain you when we land." A hologram circle labelled "Designated Area" appeared in the middle of the waiting platform.
"I hate to break it to you, but I AM a security personnel."
"This is fortunate. Please detain yourself." As soon as the computer said this, the screen went from azure to crimson, an indication that the computer had realized a logic mistake.
I got the feeling that she would have gone the rest of the ride in examination mode like that, most computers will stay that way indefinitely when they encounter a paradox. So, I helped her along, "I'm specialist Joel Peralta with GCAT, Hydra division."
The red visualization changed back to thinking as she verified my identity. "Please show your GCAT identification card."
I held my wrist up to the panel and a holographic card materialized from my wrist-mounted PCA, which the panel examined.
"Identity confirmed. Welcome aboard Specialist Peralta." When the computer spoke, the ship began to rattle, as if it were travelling through turbulence.
"Yeah yeah, I've been here for almost half an hour by now. Listen, I need to ask you about the passengers."
"There are no passengers."
"Yeah, I know, I was on the train. I meant on the ship."
"So did I."
The more she spoke, the worse the turbulence became. Eventually, the rumbling made it so that I had to hold on to wall just to keep from falling. "What the heck is going on?"
"I do not know, there is a class-1 security hold on all information regarding this disturbance. In addition--"
"Forget the addition! Just tell me where the people are!"
"The ship."
"Where on the ship?! I want a readout on all life-signatures on board!"
"Scanning...Scanning...Scanning" the computer repeated over and over while the ship continued to shake and rattle. I could have sworn I heard explosions when the computer spoke, "Specialist Peralta, there is a disturbance on the ship."
"Thank you! Very much for this information! I was unaware!"
"You're Welcome, Specialist. I have prepared an escape pod for your safety. I must recommend you board it immediately." A holographic light-path appeared under my feet, pointing the way to a place where the wall had opened up, revealing an escape pod behind. The computer was considerate enough to even holographically label it "Escape Pod" just in case I was confused.
As I perilously made my way to the pod, I shouted over more explosions, "I still want that reading!"
"I am still scanning."
By the time I had made it onto the pod, there were even explosions on the waiting platform. The door closed just in time, protecting me. Thankfully, the escape pod was fortified. Another panel lit up and the computer spoke again, "Initiating emergency launch sequence. Please stand-by for ejection."
The pod was moved toward the outside of the ship, where a launch arm would pick it up and hold it in a manner ideal for ejection. While all this was happening, explosions continued to resound the ship, and the computer reported the results of her life-sign scan.
The launch arm grabbed the pod and began to move it outside the ship, away from the main hull. From the camera feeds, I could see the ship on displays all around the walls. "Specialist Peralta, I have finished a scan of the ship, and have discovered the following life-signs. Human life sign count: one."
"Just me?! That's impossible! Who the heck did all this?! And where are the crew members?!" I could see explosions all along the outside of the ship's hull, and the pod's engines had warmed up already and were humming loudly, preparing to fire.
"I did not finish, Specialist Peralta. Human life sign count: one. Total life sign count: two." Then one final explosion hurled the pod away from the ship. I hit my head against the reinforced hull, and was knocked unconscious.
When I awoke, the pod had already crash landed. I was strapped into a safety harness, something I didn’t remember doing myself. It was good that I was, though. The pod was almost all the way on its side, so the harness was the only thing keeping me in my seat. The familiar voice of the computer spoke, “Specialist Peralta, I see you are unharmed. That is fortunate.â€
“Computer? What are you doing here? Give me a report.â€
“Multiple inquiries: I will address them one at a time. Inquiry to my identity: Yes, I am the ship’s computer, though my formal designation is CSAA;LE, which the late captain would often pronounce “Sallyâ€. It is short for Computerized Statistical Analytic Assistant--â€
“Next inquiry, please.†I groaned, just speaking made my head throb.
“Inquiry to my purpose here: I uploaded a copy of myself onto the pod’s computer in order to protect valuable information. This information has a class-1 security hold, and I cannot access it. In addition--â€
“Next!†I grabbed the side of my head, unbuckling myself from the pod seat.
“Request for tactical report: I will restrict myself to only pertinent information.â€
At that comment, I muttered, “Thank god,†under my breath.
“After the final concussive explosion, you lost consciousness. I operated the pod’s controls to secure you in the safety harness when I learned we were on a crash course for this planet. All attempts to reestablish connections with the IPVC-Kamchatka have failed. The only option is to assume its total destruction while in deep space.â€
“Why did the pod choose a trajectory leading directly to an isolated planet?â€
“I am sorry, Specialist Peralta, I do not understand your inquiry.â€
“This planet. It’s cut-off from everywhere else. Why did the pod come here?â€
“Specialist, you are mistaken. This planet is not cut-off. The pod chose here because your PCA listed this planet as your destination. Specialist Peralta, this planet is Rek-LFR, the colony to which you were assigned.â€
At this point, I climbed out of the pod and surveyed the surroundings. Nothing but rocky desert in all directions. I had more questions than answers now, and I was going to get each mystery solved. But first, I downloaded a map and started out to the so-called colony. It was time to get to the bottom of things.
Chapter 2
After examining the pod one last time, and finding that contained a wealth of maps, communication equipment, and various emergency survival equipment, he decided to make it his base of operations while investigating and exploring the colony. Sally showed him a panel behind which was stored preserved food. However, and much to his dismay, the food was, well...
"This is goo!"
"Actually," a metallic female voice speakers embedded into the walls of the escape pod, "the correct term is paste."
"What the heck is the difference?"
"A paste has a consistency--"
"Nevermind! Forget I asked anything."
Joel begrudgingly stuffed with the canister of food paste into his pocket. Wanting to get away from the robot as fast as possible, he scurried out onto the sparse, open landscape of the desert. However, not even a few minutes before he had set out, he heard her familiar voice emitting from his wrist computer.
"Specialist Peralta," said the voice, "you are going the wrong way."
A dismayed and defeated sigh escaped from his lips. He had forgotten that the computer had the ability to communicate with him through his wrist mounted computer. Without even responding, he reoriented himself, and continued on his way.
The journey looked like it could take days, according to the maps. However, Joel soon learned that he had plenty of time.
"Specialist Peralta," piped the familiar voice from his wrist, "I have news that you will find most interesting."
The tired and annoyed soldier sighed, having been getting used to the peaceful silence of the wasteland. "Oh well," he muttered, "It was fun while it lasted."
"I do not understand. Walking was fun? You still have many more kilometers to walk still, so do not be disappointed."
"Thank you, Sally." Expectedly, the robot was completely immune to sarcasm.
"You are welcome Specialist Peralta. Now, for the news of interest."
"Yeah yeah, I'm sure the brass is trying to get in contact with me after they found out the ship crashed."
"Quite the opposite, Specialist Peralta."
"Opposite? What do you mean?"
The robot paused, and Joel thought it was for dramatic effect at first, but remembered that was something a robot couldn't do. "Sally? What do you mean?"
"Specialist Peralta," Another pause.
"You are dead."
====================================
Elsewhere on the planet, an entire city was on full alert. Red lights flashed monotonously, but they were less obtrusive than the blaring sirens. At the command center, the head of the military in this sector held his calm, even while scores of frantic radio trasmissions came in from almost every guard station. Occasionally, one of the transmissions would be cut short; sometimes, it even sounded like the guards actually had a chance to turn around and face their attacker.
Even as the captain maintained integrity and tried his best to analyze the situation to make appropriate decisions, his lieutenant was infuriated. His face was red and he clenched his teeth with such force they might have broken in his jaw. His wrist was already sprained with the way he insisted on slamming a fist on the table every time he barked out a harsh order.
Almost every time, the response to his order was, "I'm sorry Lieutenant, but there isn't a response."
If whatever mysterious threat didn't reach the center of the city and take care of the lieutenant itself, he would have an aneurysm and die from sheer frustratedness. It goes without saying that the Lieutenant had anger management problems.
After more than ten minutes of continuing reports of casualties, the captain finally spoke. "Contact everyone with priority levels higher than 4. Tell them we're evacuating."
Everyone in the command station became quiet at this. Radios were turned off, even as the screams of dying soldiers could be heard pleading for their lives. "But, captain," one soldier was brave enough to ask, "What about everyone else? What of the civilians?"
"I know. Trust me, I'd like to save them too. But in less than a half hour, we've already lost a twelfth of the grid, and we still don't even have a goddamned visual. We couldn't even evacuate the main street in that time! We have no choice but to get the highest priority personnel to safety."
One of the soldiers working the communication arrays interrupted, "Captain, about that visual..."
"Bring it on screen!" the captain shouted.
The main projector in the center of the room lit up, showing more chaos than anyone was brave enough to imagine. The camera had been knocked to the ground, so the image was on its side. Still, it was more than enough.
"What in god's name are they doing to him?" a female commander screamed. Most everyone else was either too shocked or trying to hold down their lunch to respond with words.
There, on the screen, they watched as deformed, mutated beasts with oily black skin shambled up to corpses lying in the street. The shadowy assailants hunched over, biting into flesh and tearing off the limbs of fallen civilians and soldiers alike.
A young, scared soldier, who just recently received his first medal, got out of his chair, "What the /fuck/ are those...those /things/?"
The number of shambling figures grew and grew until it was a veritable swarm of them, all marching their way in the direction of the command center, where the priority level 4 and higher personnel were just now being shaken from their sleep and gathered where they would supposedly be safe. On of the things tripped on the camera, and the feed ended, freezing the frame on the last transmitted image. The ghastly, deformed face of something that eerily resembled a human.
No one spoke. No one wanted to speak. No one moved either. They all must have felt that the grisly face on the screen could have seen them, and would have eaten the first one to move.
The young, scared soldier took a few steps slowly back. "We...we have to get out of here. We have to warn the capital about an alien invasion!" Almost everyone in the room got up and turned to evacuate.
"No," came the voice of the female commander, "Look. His clothes."
Everyone turned back to the screen, and was shocked at what they didn't notice before. There was no doubt about what the mutated, corpse-like thing was wearing. It was a military uniform.
"Those...things, they're the soldiers."
"Oh come on!" the young soldier shouted, overstepping his rank, "It's just the enemy trying to play with our heads!" However, his brave act wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself.
"No," she resounded, "that name tag...He was one of the first to radio in. One of the first to stop responding."
"Then it's true," the captain's deep and tired voice spoke. "They finally did it, those bastards."
"Sir?"
"Near on forty years ago, I worked in special operations. We were developing a way to control the population more effectively." His rustic accent trailed on, though it was abnormally calm, even as the building's own alarms went off, indicating that the chaos had even breached the command center's doors some seventy floors below.
"There was never any clear reason, but the big wigs in the government clinged to some ancient stone tablet. Said the end of man would be wrought with our own ambition, our own free will. So we worked on some messed up stuff. Biological warfare..."
"Are you," the young soldier stammered, "Are you just going to sit there telling stories, or are we going to evacuate, like you said?"
"Try to evacuate," the captain said, more calm than ever, as he walked out the door leading to the roof, "It doesn't matter anymore."
"What are you saying?! We can get out of here! We can still run!"
But the captain didn't respond. He just walked onto the roof and sat down on the edge of the building. Like a boy watching a fireworks show, he gazed on the city as it burned to the ground. Looking up, he saw the titanic spaceship. Relaxing to his fate, the captain gazed upon the enormous craft, fully admiring its beauty. Even though it was mostly obscured by dark clouds, through which bright, blue arcs of lightning danced, it was beautiful to behold.
Rings of azure lights circled, alternating directions as each ring moved a step closer to the center, where one bright light slowly, yet constantly, grew more intense. It was this light, the captain knew, that would bring about his end. He marveled at its beauty, even as gory chaos erupted behind him.
It was a class of destructive vessel commonly called a Nemesis. It was nothing more than a giant, floating weapon. And it was pointed at the city.
======================================
Aboard the Nemesis, the massive destructive warship on steroids, the ship's captain continued to receive reports on the status of the POZ laser that was being armed. The ship had some basic maneuverability, and some other auxiliary weapons, but the entire ring-shaped ship was little more than a mobile laser firing device.
The "Pillar of Zion" was the most powerful single weapon in the armory of the Republic of Humans. It was a terrible stream of charged ions and phasons and many other mostly theoretical particles that had a concussive force enough to break through the crust of a planet if kept online for long enough, yet also irradiated and vaporized entire landscapes, ecosystems, and cultures just by being kept on for moments. With the switch of a button, an indelible burn on the skin of a planet that would not heal for fifty human life spans could be carved in just fractions of a second.
The Republic even had a special fleet full of Nemesis ships whose express purpose was to destroy planets by focusing shots, one at a time, at the exact same spot. The fleet had been nicknamed "The Zipper" in most places in the galaxy for the way it would literally unzip planets by orbiting and constantly keeping the grand lasers on. The captain of this particular Nemesis had served in that fleet before, and was reminiscing of old glory days while the laser was charge.
"Captain? Captain, are you even awake?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry! What can I do for you, Madame Ambassador?"
"I came to ask one last time, are you sure it's necessary to use the Pillar of Zion?"
The captain gave a fatherly smile and got out of his chair. Wrapping an arm around the young politician, he walked her over to a screen that displayed an overhead visual of all the carnage.
"You see? This is why they put people like me behind the triggers, and people like you behind the podium. Look here. What do you see?"
"Well, I see a city that's under attack."
"And that's exactly why you belong back on the pampered central worlds. What you see here is a completely dead city. Not a single human soul alive down there."
"Dead city? But I just looked at the latest reports, there were more than twenty-thousand life signs were detected."
"Like I said, Madame Ambassador. Not one human soul."
The ambassador paused. Though she was young, her word carried weight. Even if she had been an annoyance to the captain with her constant poking around and asking question, it was worth it to bring her along. If she sent back word to the head representatives that the situation was dire, then there would be increased leverage given to the captain and his associates.
They had an agenda, and it was beneficial to put on such a show for the young politician.
"And," she went on, "You're sure of this? There's absolutely no way to save the city?"
"You can examine the advanced life detector reports yourself. Zero humans left. All that's down there now are those...abominations."
"I see. I had heard of the threat, but I never imagined it could be so serious. Very well, Captain. I will not impede your efforts any longer. I trust you will do what needs to be done."
The young ambassador turned back to the screen to watch the real-time display of the city's grid, while the captain made his way to the firing deck.
============================================
Back on the day-side of the planet, and far away from any of this commotion, Joel had been arguing with the annoyingly brief computer for some time.
"What do you mean I'm dead?!"
"I intercepted a report detailing as much. It seems you were expected to die in the crash."
"You can't be serious! This is--wait, did you say expected?"
"That is correct. After reviewing the data recorded at the time of the crash, I can only say that the ship was deliberately sabotaged. Many emergency components were not functional, and all my emergency protocol were suspended."
"What are you saying?"
"There is more. I found no record of any GCAT missions involving you within the last three months."
"So? They don't just publicize highly sensitive missions. I'm in GCAT, not the army!"
"It is unlikely that such information would be withheld from me, Specialist Peralta. GCAT often requisitioned my ship for missions. Letting the ship's computer would be necessary."
By now, the tired and confused soldier was in no mood to deal with the persistent computer any longer. "You're full of it. I don't believe you."
"I don't know what you refer to as 'it', but I assure you I am full of nothing."
"God! Why don't you have a mute button?"
"It was destroyed along with the ship."
Joel would have a long walk ahead of him, indeed.
[/SPOILER]
Someone on nation asked for help on an assignment where they had to write about an item they were given, and they had a post card with a picture of a chest. This is what I came up with for that:
[SPOILER="Spoiler"]"Lady..." I impatiently stamped my foot, "Would you hurry up? We're going to be late." She was distracted by something in the window of a shop. On the other side of the aged glass was an even more aged chest. It was dusty, musty, and rusty, and she stared at it like she wanted to reach out and open it to see what was inside.
"Lady!"
"Coming! Hey...did you see that chest?" she asked once she had finally caught up.
"That old box, you mean?" I asked without looking.
She stopped in the middle of the street, crossing her arms and pouting, "It's not just a box, 'kay?" I sighed, she was such a trouble to deal with sometimes.
"Edna!" she whined when I rolled my eyes.
"Okay! Fine, fine, it's a really cool old and moldy box," I teased.
"H-hey! It's a chest! And it's really cool!" She went on like this until we reached the manor where the party was. As expected of us, we were cordial, polite, proper, and (no thanks to Lady’s interest in old useless crates) punctual. We greeted all of our family friends--the friends of our father--with a curtsy, and a smile. Lady didn’t really want to greet any of our future mother’s friends, but she did, with sufficient coaxing from me.
After the party had begun, and we had greeted all the guests, Lady and I separated for the first time that day. All of the adults were constantly telling me how old I looked, and how much of a woman I was becoming. I hated it. I didn’t want to grow up! I just wanted my mother back. Eventually, I had to get away from everyone. I wandered down to the gazebo that overlooked a small pond. I liked how quiet it was here, and the water made the air cooler, a welcome change from the stuffy house and back porch.
“Ugh! I swear, if I have to be ‘proper’ for one more minute, I’ll...I’ll...I’ll burst!†I shouted, throwing my arms into the air.
She nodded, but didn’t say anything, and her smiling face quickly took a distant gaze as she looked out over the water. “Do you,†she paused, obviously trying to hold back a quivering breath, “remember when we would play in the water during summer? You, me, and Mom?†I looked at her arms where she was cradling a yarn doll. It was some Lady had made almost two years ago with our Mom’s help.
“Oh Lady, come here,†I said in a comforting tone that reminded me more of my mother than I was expecting. I wrapped my arms around her head and cradled her as she burst into crying.
“I don’t want to get a new mom. I want Mom! I want to sit in her lap in the sun! I want to hear her laugh when I mess up my stitching! I want her to swing me in the garden during spring!†The list went on and on, and I just sat with her, stroking her hair, saying, “I know, I know. I miss her too.â€
For the rest of the night, the two of us sat together, reminiscing about our late mother, crying in each other’s arms while the engagement party went on without us. Eventually, long after the sun had gone down, the two of us returned to the house. We hoped to sneak past everyone, so that no one would question why we were both in the state we were in. Thankfully, many of the guests had already left, and the ones who were still present were gathered in the parlor.
Just as we scurried past the group, Lady dropped her yarn doll. In her haste to pick it up, she bumped into me, and I bumped into a table. “Are you girls okay?†the voice of our soon to be step-mother called out from around the bend. Lady nabbed her doll and we both hopped up the stairs as I called out, “Yes, we’re fine!â€
So the mom is dead now, and it would have been about how the girls make a relationship with the new stepmom through the chest mentioned at the beginning.[/SPOILER]
Magic Shield and the Eggs of Wisdom (inspired by a game of Isketch with the people from Nation Skype (and the Connor from this story is my little brother, not Nation's Conor)):
[SPOILER="Spoiler"]Little Connor lived with his big brother, Kueh, alone in a small cottage far away from other people. One day, Big Brother Kueh became sick. He called Little Connor to his bedside, and instructed him thusly:
“Little Connor, take this bag, and take it to the river north of here. From there, take fifteen stones and place them in the bag. The stones must be all smooth and round, and they must be pure white. Do this, and take the bag to the hut at the base of the mountain. Knock on the door three times and it will open, and from within a hand will appear. Into it place three of the stones, and it will retreat. Knock three times again, and another hand will appear. Into this, place five stones. When this hand retreats as well, knock three times once more, and still another hand will appear. Give this hand the last seven stones along with the bag, and it will take both. After a moment, it will return and the bag will be filled with grey powder. Obtain this powder and bring it back here.â€
Then, with a pat, a smile, and a goodbye, Little Connor was sent out to do as he was instructed. However, Little Connor had not been paying full attention. He filled the bag with rocks, as he was told, but instead of taking them to the hut at the base of the mountain, he passed the hut entirely, wandering around with no destination in mind. Eventually, he reached a cave. “This must be wherein lies the three hands and the powder,†Little Connor thought to himself. Thus, he walked straight into the cave of Rahann the Gatrubfa, a sinister type of cave monster.
The Rahann smirked and smiled and licked his lips when he saw Little Connor enter his Cave. He grinned at the prospect of devouring the tasty looking bite. He crawled and stomped and slunk his way to the mouth of the cave saying, “Galumph Galumph, what a snack, what a treat! Garumph Garumph, a small tasty morsel of soft tender meat. Gahort! Gahort! With a snort and a cheat, I’ll trick him up and beat him in a foul contrived sport.â€
Fortunately, the Rahann is about as dumb as he is sinister, and as loud as he is stupid. As he was stomping and laughing and gahorting to himself, Little Connor heard his whole plan. The Rahann continued, “Gaharn, Gaharn, I’ll trick him up good, yes I will, yes I will. The game will be fixed, what a sham! What a thrill! Gahee, Gahee! How I shake with such glee! There is no other Gatrubfa as crafty as me. First, I’ll make him agree, agree to the game, and agree to his fate. Then, I’ll play him a trick he cannot abate! Pretty soon he’ll be walking right onto my plate!â€
Little Connor feared what was going to happen, so he sat still and waited for the Rahann to stomp closer. “Hello little morsel,†the Rahann sneered. “It is good that you came! It is good you are here! You see, Gahen, Gahen, I am dreadfully bored. So I’ve thought of a game of right exciting accord! Won’t you play?†he whined, “I’d be ever so grateful if you do, and I think I could manage a reward for you too!â€
However, Little Connor had his wits about him, “I’ll play along Gatrubfa, but won’t you please let me rest a bit first?†he asked, sitting down and holding the bag gingerly as if it were a baby. “Gatack Gatack! What is there, in that sack? Is it, Gahumpf, a young boy? Or is it, Gahumpt, perhaps a fun toy?†Connor wished to say, “It’s neither, you pig-headed stump!†But, instead, he told the Rahann, “Oh, it is nothing save for the sweetest, most scrumptious, most absolutely positively divine candy ever crafted.â€
“Oh! Let me try, Let me try!†the Rahann spoke, getting all happy and bouncing up and down. “Not one lick!†said Little Connor, “Perhaps I will let you try some if you win.†And then Little Connor began rubbing the sack, and smelling it, making blissful “Mmm†sounds to emphasize the deliciousness. Teasing the Rahann, he waved the bag back and forth, and tossed it between his hands, watching the beasts gaze follow it closely and faithfully.
“Oh, You’re no fun, You’re no fun!†the Rahann whined and crossed his arms. “Fine! I have a bag too! And into it, I’ll place two pebbles. A black, and a white! And you will reach in and choose the stone that feels right. When you pull out the stone, if it’s black in your hand, you’ll lose the game, and, from leaving, be banned. But, if the white stone is your choice, then you win, and can dance and rejoice.â€
The Rahann turned around and, thinking himself sneaky, snatched up two black pebbles from the cave floor and put them into a rotted, ill-worn sack of his own. He turned to Little Connor, who had seen the ruse, and bade him take his choice of stones. Little Connor spoke up before playing, “So, I just need to reach in and choose one pebble?â€
“G’hm†the Rahann answered with a nod. The throaty sound seemed to be hideous attempt at “Mhmâ€.
“And,†Little Connor asked again, “I can choose either of the pebbles?â€
“G’hm†the Rahann answered, nodding again.
“And,†Little Connor continued, “There is one black pebble, and one white pebble in that bag?â€
“Gahehehehehehehe!†the Rahann laughed, remembering his trick, that both of the pebbles are black, and answered, “Yes,†and, stifling more giggling, added, “There is one stone of black, and one of white.†Then Little Connor reached a hand into the bag, and clasped his hand around on of the chilly stones and, lifting it out, said, “So, if that were true, then whichever stone is in my hand now, the one that remains in the bag must be the opposite color.†The Rahann chortled and shook profusely all over, trying to contain himself, and nodded.
“In that case, I choose,†Little Connor announced, “the stone that is still in the bag!†With this, he opened his fingers, revealing a black stone, meaning that he really chose a white stone (or it would be white, if the beast wasn’t cheating.) The Rahann’s eyes went wide and his skin went flush with anger as he cried, “Cheat! Cheat! You’re a cheater! Cheaters don’t play against me and live to tell about it!†and he reared up and raised a disgusting clawed hand. Little Connor tripped over backward and shouted in a melodramatic tone, “Oh no! Please don’t eat me or my hyperdelicious candy!â€
The Rahann’s grizzly paw swiped down and snatched the satchel from Little Connor, who got up at once and began to run. The Rahann threw the whole sack into his gross maw, and chomped down hard, breaking nearly all his teeth on Little Connor’s “Candy†rocks. Furious and in pain, the Rahann gave a brutal chase after the boy, shouting all kinds of slanders, “Cheat! Cheat! You stupid Cheat! I’ll get you and rip you into a thousand bite sized pieces!â€
Just as Little Connor escaped the cave, the Rahann caught up to him, lunging to attack. Just at the final moment, a crane flew up to the Rahann and scratched at his eyes. The Rahann wailed in pain and screamed and retreated into the cave, shouting even more slanders and crying and shouting his pain.
Little Connor turned to meet his savior, but the bird was already gone.
Connor decided it was high time that he do what he had been set out to do in the very first place. He picked up his little sack, and returned to the river, and, filling up with stones again, he took it to the hut at the base of the mountain. Just like he had been told, he knocked once on the door. It opened but not enough for him to see who was inside, nevertheless an old hand emerged, outstretched and waiting for an offering. Connor reached into his bag and placed the correct amount of pebbles into the hand. It abruptly clasped its fingers shut, retreated into the house, and shut the door.
After a brief moment he rapped again, and again the door opened. This time, a different hand appeared. But, just like the other one, its palm was open and its fingers outstretched, waiting for an offering. As before, Connor placed the correct amount of stones into the hand. The hand unsurprisingly grabbed up the stones and retreated all at once. After the door closed, and Connor knocked a third time, a third, and even more decrepit hand appeared. Into this, Connor placed the entire bag along with its contents. The hand accepted the bag and retreated into the hut, just as the other two had before it.
Just as he was told, the door opened again after a time, and Connor received the bag again, after it had been filled with grey powder. Connor took the bag in his hands and set off to return home. On the way there however, Connor met a beggar. He wore tattered brown rags, and a great big hat that covered his face. The beggar called out, "Dear child, won't you have pity on a poor old man?" Connor apologized, saying to the man that he had nothing to give. But the man pointed out that Connor was holding a very fat purse.
Connor explained that there was no money inside, only medicine, but the old man insisted that anything is better than nothing. He continued to ask, but Connor was adamant, and would not give the bag away.
The old man reached into his tattered rags and pulled a small box and dropped it on the ground. Connor picked it up. It was small enough to fit in his palm, and quite heavy for its size. The old man explained, “In that box is a great treasure. I’m sure you could buy your brother his medicine with the money you’d get from selling it. I’ll sell it to you for whatever is in your bag.â€
Connor looked at the small box, then to the bag of powder. Then he held out his hand to the beggar, returning the box and saying, “No thank you. This is for my brother, and it’s not for sale. Besides, if this thing is so valuable, you can sell it.â€
Then the old man began laughing. And he started coughing while laughing, and then mostly coughing, and then the coughs grew more and more like squawks. And the beggar threw off his rags, revealing himself to be the crane from before, laughing like a bird of his stature ought to (in a squawking sort of manner.)
“Young man,†the crane spoke, “you are very good to be faithful to your brother. Go now and take that to him so that you can get the next ingredient for the medicine.†When Connor extended his arm again, bidding the bird take back his box, the crane responded, “As for that, you may keep it. It may be of use to you later. But be warned! You must never open it, nor look inside. The lock must always remain shut.â€
Before any other words could be spoken, the crane spread his broad wings and soared off! Connor returned home, eager to tell his brother of all that had occurred that day. When Connor walked in the door, he found his brother fast asleep. Deciding not to wake him, Connor fetched cool water from the well, opened the windows, and put dinner on to cook. While he sat, waiting for it to finish, he fondled his pocket and remembered the small box he had received from the crane.
He pulled it from his pocket to examine it in detail. Though the box was small, it felt weighty in his palm. The aromatic odor of carved wood flooded his senses so strongly that he was surprised that he missed it before. A masterfully worked design decorated the whole exterior of the container. It showed a house on a cliff on the side opposite the lock, and on the two other sides were just the house, and just the cliff separately. The lock itself was made of bronze and it looked unsettlingly like a pair of clasped hands joining to keep shut the box.
On the top was a beautiful young woman whose arm was stretched forward so that her arm met up with the lock, further enhancing the appearance of the lock looking like a pair of hands. Behind the woman was a little house, with open doors and windows. A garden with lush flowers and bushes could be seen in the background, and birds and deer and other such animals flocked around. The woman, with her gentle charm and relaxed and cheerful expression, almost seemed to be holding her arm out to anyone holding the box, inviting them to join hands and follow her into her quaint little home. Connor wondered about the other hand of the lock, since there were two, and so turned the box upside-down to look.
The bottom scene was just as dreadful as the top one was pleasant. Instead of a beautiful young woman, a dessicated elderly one was there, in the same position as the one from before. Her clothes were tattered and old, hardly holding together, but they were unmistakably the same dress that was flowing in the wind on the opposite panel. The doors to the house were shut, as were the windows; and the garden was all whithered up. The bones of birds, deer, and other such animals were piled up in a macabre heap. The old lady gazed at whoever was holding the box with a grimace of pain and despair, and she outstretched her hand as if begging for mercy or aid, but something about her expression gave the impression that, if one were to actually make the mistake of taking her hand, she would pull them into her dark trap.
Connor wondered at what mysteries this box must hold. He re-examined the lock, trying to find out how one would open it if they had a mind to. Just as his fingers touched the in-twined bronze fingers of the lock, the whole box made a strange noise and then jerked, as if something living inside gave a great holler and a jump that offset the box. Connor, in his utter surprise, yelped loudly and dropped the box on the ground. As he picked it back up again, he noticed that his brother was already awake, and that the dinner was beginning to burn.[/SPOILER]