Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Science Fiction’ Category

The Key

        It was a plain wooden box with sturdy iron side straps. There was no handle, but there was an ornately decorated lock with a rather large keyhole in the middle of the seam. Or he assumed there was a seam. It was practically invisible if it was there at all. He had also assumed that the box would open with a simple persuasion but his broken thieves picks were evidence that wasn’t true. Some of them had just disappeared if they didn’t break first and that’s when he knew he had to ask the Wizards for help.
        It wasn’t that he stole the box; it was rightfully his. His grandmother had died of natural causes and gave him her hut in the woods along with everything in the attic. Unfortunately for his brother, most of her magical belongings were in the attic and he was just about done sifting through them when he came upon the box. Not being able to open it and ignoring his internal warnings that Pandora’s box shouldn’t be tampered with, he had sent a note to a local guild specializing in magical boxes in order to get someone to open it.
        So he wasn’t surprised when someone knocked on the door saying that she received his note and was willing to open up his box if he was willing to lend it to her for a little experimentation. What he wasn’t prepared for was her answer when he asked her for guild identification.
        “I don’t work with a guild,” she said. “But here’s my card. I’m certified with the government.”
        He checked it over and it looked authentic.
        “I’m Carolyn Gray (which you can see by my card) and I work with solving keeper boxes.”
        “How did you get my name?”
        “I volunteer to take some of the new referrals from a friend of mine. It’s difficult working on the referral receiving line as well. Mind if I come in?”
        “Not at all. I’m Luke Hunt, by the way.”
        “Nice to meet you.”
        The hut’s one room was sort of crowded, but Luke easily cleared off a chair for his guest and sat down in one adjacent to her.
        “So, what is the principle behind the locks?” he asked.
        “Every keeper box has a spell attached to it that has to do with the nature of the secret inside. The key is animated and created with the correct spell to open the lock. If the incorrect key is used it will dissolve and may damage the box, until the lock is so deformed no key will open it. Therefore, if you have something important to keep, a keeper box will maintain that not just anyone can get inside and if you find one or steal it, it’s to your best advantage to keep it locked until you find a key or your chances of getting inside are gone.”
        “What makes you think that you can do this for less than a standardized guild?”
        “I don’t work for anyone. Besides, what you’re paying for in the guild is a flat fee. You pay for about one hundred keys to dissolve and all the worst repairs to be fixed. You also provide food, shelter, firewood and any other supplies the business needs. Your box may not use one hundred keys and if your box is never broken, why should you pay for repairs of the worst kind? You pay for the worst-case scenario, even if that never happens to your box. Time is also an issue; I can also guarantee that this will be done in the least amount of time. Professional guilds have hundreds of people with boxes to be solved and if you go to one of them, they’ll just take your money and stick you to the back of the line. It can take a week to figure out a box, and that’s only the simplest ones with one spell. Imagine hundreds of people, each who’s box takes a month to figure out. You don’t have that time. I could start on it today.”
        “How much do you charge?”
        “Fifty gold per key. We’ve got to use star metal and it’s not cheap. We’re running out of metal before we run out of keys.”
        “Actually, that’s quite cheap.”
        “I’m the best in the business, too. I ran away from the guild because of the politics involved, not because they forced me out.”
        “How would you go about doing this?”
        “The first step is meditation. I’ve got to focus on the box and search it to find it’s fundamental theme. On a simple box, this could take two hours, complex, five days. Then, more meditation to figure out a gist of spells. Finally, key experimentation. Like an artist glances at their subject before painting and goes back and forth to see that they’re getting it right, I do that with the box as it whispers hints. Once the key is weaved, we test it out and if it doesn’t work, it dissolves and I try again. If it fails, I check the box to make sure it isn’t injured and go back to my tools to make another key. If we find the right key, both the key and the box are yours, as well as anything inside it. Most guilds don’t guarantee that everything inside box is returned to you. That’s another thing I didn’t like: thievery.”
        She raised her eyebrow at the broken thieves picks. He blushed.
        “Hey, I don’t ask questions,” she said after noting his expression.
        “I didn’t steal this box, if that’s what you’re implying.”
        “I’m not implying anything. You get income your way, I get it my way.”
        “Does this arrangement include food and board?”
        “No, I’ll camp outside. Or deduct that from what you’re paying me if you want.”
        “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you sleep outside.”
        She smiled. “Fair enough.”
        “Well, are you sure you want to start today?”
        “Sure, I’ll start now.”
        “That seems pretty soon.”
        “I told you I work fast. I’ve got nothing else to do but to go back and find another commission. It’s your choice, though.”
        He handed her a bag of money. “Fifty gold, then, and you can start right away.”

The War for Independence

        Samantha pulled the pin on the grenade and let it fly out the window to the city square below. She faced the damp wall again and waited for the boom of exploding tanks. She didn’t even flinch when it came. She yawned and checked her watch: 19:30.
        Suddenly there were footsteps on the stairs and by the time she could see a shadow of the intruder her gun was loaded and pointed straight at the first stair.
        “Samantha? It’s Jason.”
        She lowered her gun but kept silent.
        He poked his head above the edge of the floor, his gun next to his head and peeked out at her. She smiled and waved. He climbed the rest of the stairs and took a spot across from her away from waning light on the wall from the window.
        “How long have you been here?”
        “I lost track of time,” she said.
        “I just got an update, would you like to hear it? Or are you just going to keep dropping grenades until they figure out you’re here and shoot you?”
        “Go ahead and report.”
        “Apparently a compromise has been reached and they’re going to sign the papers officially tomorrow. But this is the last city standing that still belongs to them. Means two things for you: 1) they’re going to be fighting harder for this city and 2) if we capture this land before the compromise it’s null and we’ve won the war. The colonel is letting you decide.”
        “Me? He’s lost his mind.”
        “You’re the only woman left standing, Sam. Actually, I don’t know why he wants to ask you but he sent me on the fool’s mission of trying to find you.”
        “The grenade gave me away, huh?”
        “Just a bit. No one else uses primitive weapons like that anymore.”
        “Whatever. They’re effective.”
        Jason paused and leaned his head against the wall. Then he shifted his seat over and lay down on his stomach facing her.
        “There’s a sniper facing the window. If I’m going to get out, I’d better know soon one way or another.”
        “Do you have a sniper rifle on you?”
        “Of course not. Even if I did it won’t be the kind with bullets.”
        “You’re hopeless.”
        “They’re impractical. By the time the bullet hits your target, you’re dead.”
        “But you don’t have a five second recharging time.”
        “You only have to recharge if you let go of the trigger. Otherwise you sweep the area.”
        “You should let these guys know that.”
        “Only if you decide we should take the city and end this war with a complete victory.”
        “I think this is silly. We’re never going to get out of here alive and they’re going to give us hell if we continue fighting. The problem is, they’re going to shoot at us whether we fight back or not.”
        She paused and turned towards the window. She reached her hand out with her gun and shot across the way bridging the gap. Jason cringed at the noise and then the following silence. They waited for a laser, but nothing came across the gap.
        “Check now,” she said.
        “No one there.”
        She shrugged. “Colonists never win. Even if we let them have this city, what are they going to do? America would only have about 16 square miles of land.”
        Jason stood up.
        “Tell the General we’re going home and to stop shooting. Might as well let these boys live to be good upstanding citizens of England like they were before.”
        “Is that you’re final decision?”
        “Yes. And if you need me again, I’ll be here.”
        “We’ll come and get you when we leave. Good luck.”
        She let him walk back down the stairs and then watched him leave and sneak away down the street. She checked her watch, but she didn’t know why. She sighed and lay down under the window and watched the lighting in the room get darker and darker. She felt her eyes get heavy and she let them, keeping her ears open for the slightest noise even in sleep.

Lucy’s Monologue

        Robin Grapepunch. That’s one I haven’t heard in a long time. It was one of those fake names, you know. One he made up when he was six years old so that the feds would stop pestering him about his home. They stuck him in an orphanage and he stayed there until the Great War. No not that one, you know, the one against those aliens who could photosynthesize. Yeah…like the giant plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Anyway, the war came and he was…oh…eighteen I think. So he enlisted and started training. He was a little clumsy at first, but then he started climbing the ranks; he got better and better until you could easily say he was the best there was a not lie one speck. Sure people were jealous, but he didn’t care about the fame and fortune. A real hero and vigilante. “That’s nice,” you say, but I’m serious. He was uncomfortable around girls and could start up a conversation to save his life. If you wanted gab you’d talk to his friend, Dayne. But that’s neither here nor there. If you stuck him in the cockpit where he could control the ship and feel the energy flowing through the motor, he was inseperable. He became the ship and he could think faster on his feet than it could. If anything broke down, he was there to fix it. A lot of people didn’t like him ‘cause he was so quiet, but no one could deny how much safer you felt going into a battle with him leading the crew. Even I felt a euphoria on his ship.
         I hate battle. I went into service as entertainment and when things got sticky, I was drafted in. “Don’t worry,” they said, “You’ll just be a mechanic.” Pah! But I’ll never forget when after a long battle, I think it was the one at 31EG but I get them so confused now, he just sat in his chair when he thinks he’s alone and runs his hand over the buttons in thought. And a boy who’s so good at what he does and who I thought had nerves of steel, just lets himself cry. Dayne said he did that a lot, but Dayne’s good at pleasing people. I still felt bad, regardless.
His ship was the Daytona Waterfall because it was painted a bright blue and even though you thought you were going to be spotted, you’d be surprised how many people passed you up in the dark. The color was because the paint had special reflective quality that cut us out of radar from a passing ship. It couldn’t scan us; would just slip on over and not pick up a thing. That’s part of what made me feel so comfortable around him; I didn’t have to run and shoot all the time, we could just sit and be ok.
         Well, I hope you find him. But it’s better to be missing in action than killed right? …Right?

Xia-Ju’s Speech

        "Welcome to the twenty-first annual National High School Dean’s Association Conference. Our first speaker this week is going to present an interesting view on the school system. She comes to us from Galaxy VII and is a well-known speaker throughout the globe on various aspects of improving life. Please welcome Xia-Ju with a warm round of applause."
        Xia-Ju took the podium and cleared her throat. She had slanted silver eyes and lavender skin that glittered in the lights. She dressed conservatively but still seemed nervous about something. As soon as she spoke, the nervous awkwardness washed away.
        "Utopia. It is what you strive for, yes? On my planet, we live helping ourselves, sharing things when necessary, knowing very little famine and war, knowing no fear or hate that cannot be resolved without words. And yet, your people live in constant fear, always fighting, always hating, living in despair and hating yourself and others, constantly looking towards the future and worrying about it. Your problem: allowing set individuals to be in charge and make decisions involving millions. And when no one agrees, the people in charge do whatever they want simply because they are in charge.
         "It seems that the answer to your unhappiness is to get rid of the person in charge. And countless centuries of your people’s existence has shown us that you will just elect another person who will take charge and make decisions for you in regards to the world. We do not do that and look at where we live. Your vision of Utopia is our version of reality. The solution: anarchy.
         "I realize that leaving young adult humans in charge for their own can be dangerous. The fears are that they do not     know what they are doing and total destruction will follow their wake. They make poor decisions, act on impulse, and diffuse responsibility. But they do this even under your rule. Can you deny it? You spend your lives enforcing common sense rules for children who you know do not follow them. You come up with new systems for them in order to stop them going around the rules and regardless they do.
        "Just stop putting forth the effort. Studies of your societies have shown that it does not work. And look at it: you still have wars, you still have famine, you do not make better people by enforcing rule.
         "We can agree at this point that enforcing your rule helps no one. Your goal is to help, so do something constructive. Get rid of government all together! If you, as a human, know to be compassionate, punctual, and responsible, then why do you need rules to force you to be these things? Why do you need someone enforcing laws that reinstate what you know to be good? The government is only oppressing you and causing rebellion. The prime reason young adult humans state of their rebellious nature, is that they feel the adult world closing in on them. They are not free to express themselves and often voice displeasure, causing them to be further oppressed as well as quieted. Without oppression, they will be able to figure things out on their own and learn the correct way to act and get along through their instinct. For centuries your people have claimed that your nature is good. Prove it.
         "Countless amounts of money and resources go towards a government that could be used for the people. Imagine how much better your world would be if you just had the money or food or supplies to build houses for humans who are starving. Government causes people to rebel when they find a law that they do not like. Imagine how many lives you can save by stopping useless bloodshed. Government makes people angry in the things they cannot change; the authority they have to answer to though they don’t want to. Imagine how much happier your planet would be without all of the pent up frustration that ends up hurting others. You can see on a large scale, government does no good.
         "Look at the history of your own country. Name a single conflict that did not occur because of a government? I cannot; how can you? By abolishing it, you assure yourself, as well as other galactic life forms, safety, happiness, and peace. Let yourself be who you are naturally. If you stand for liberty and freedom, why do you confine yourself? It is an oxymoron that you do not seem to see.
         "Anarchy is a very strong word in your culture, but it is a very good thing. You want an end to hunger, war, and sadness… well, here is your answer. By abolishing government all together, you can help society much better than enforcing rules. Let those in your schools who want to learn, learn, and those who don’t, suffer because of their own doing. If they are sorry later, they can begin anew. Anarchy lets you live each day to your fullest without hanging records over your head and stopping your opportunities. I can see that this is already a positive outcome. No glass ceiling, as the phrase is, to stop you and your children.
         "Do not be afraid of anarchy or change. Both are good and help things grow. If a tree never changed, you would never be able to taste the fruit it offered. Let things go the way they will and learn from yourself and from each other. Do not play within a system, play without one.
        "Be happier, let your children prosper, and do away with all of your problems. Your race will live longer if you do and you can accomplish many things without being restricted. Strive for the Utopia you want. It can be on Earth if you try. You just have to get rid of the ropes that bind you, ropes in the form of government.
         "Thank you.

The Outcasts

        “If you want a map, you’re going to have to talk to Umétican. And get a place to sleep before 10 o’clock.”
         “Thank you.”
         Eli put his hands in his pocket and started out of the shop towards the colorful center of the city. The shops were lit by neon signs, but their windows were dark and filled with merchandise. Bars over bars on the inside of the glass blocked the doors and windows from the outside world. Papers flew across the street and over the sidewalk, skidding over the concrete leaving greasy lines of butter and oil. Colorful billboards lit the fork in the road illuminating the orange sky to seem like daytime. Humanoid creatures bustled past; vehicles honked and zoomed with little whizzes past archaic stoplights. A human girl was leaned against the steel wall of a building and she followed Eli as he passed through the smoke of a cigarette. He shoved his hands farther into his pockets and continued walking.
         The street’s fork caved in upon itself leaving a boat-shaped island in the middle of two streets. The main road continued forward making another curve around a large steel building lost in the sky. Eli pulled his jacket closer to him against the non-existent cold and pushed forward through the stream of creatures to the door of the building. A man pulled a dollar out of his cell-phone as he passed and handed it to a coffee vendor from the window of the shop. The smell of coffee beans filled the air but stopped one Eli entered the skyscraper.
Metal detectors were the first obstacle, but they didn’t go off. Eli breathed a sigh of relief. The elevator was the second as the map next to it was impossible to decipher. After staring at it for several minutes, he managed to find the name he was looking for and pressed the button. The third came when he found the door was locked. He knocked but no one answered.
         “Umétican leaves at six,” a maroon voice said behind him. “What do you need?”
         “A map, please,” Eli said hoarsely facing a dark skinned woman who has spoken to him. Her hair was pulled back tightly and she was dressed in old-fashioned business suit with pointed high-heeled shoes. She smiled warmly.
         “Having trouble finding things?”
         Eli wasn’t sure whether he should answer or not. She stood there anticipating something before pulling out a key and inserting it into the lock. The door swung open.
         “Wait here,” she said closing the door behind her. Eli was left in the hall. He looked around at the black metal doors with gold plaques. “Visitor Services” the one in front of him read. He traced the letters and savored the harsh edge against his skin. It felt cold and yet the pressed edge against his skin made his fingers warm. The door flung open and he jumped back breathing to calm his hammering heart.
         “Here you go,” the woman said with a large smile handing him a folded pamphlet. “You’d better get a room quick or the hotel will close and you’ll spend the night avoiding the Resettlement Program.” She laughed.
         “Um, thank you.”
         “Don’t mention it, honey.”
         Eli smiled back at her and rushed to the elevator pressing the button in wicked speed and then pressing a random floor once he was inside just to get the doors to close. Humans were starting to scare him. It was only three weeks since he escaped the lab and he figured out why they kept him where he was. He thought it was confinement. He found out it was protection.
         He pinched his nose bridge lightly. What he had taken as lies ended up being the truth. He was there for his own good. Humans were destined to die just like him. So what if he was made just to prolong their lives? At least he would get out of the hellhole they called society and live a nicer life.
         The doors to the elevator stopped at the fifth floor and opened to a deserted dark hallway. After a moment’s hesitation, Eli got out and sat on the floor facing the elevator. He checked his watch; there wasn’t enough time to find a hotel. He laid out the map in front of him and pulled a flashlight out of his pocket. With a click of a button the paper was flooded with light. Particularly curved lines intersected streets, which also curved around islands of buildings and districts. A purple line meant something completely different from the light purple wash in the upper right corner of the paper. He scanned the legend: main streets, businesses, housing, immigrants, rivers, subways, highways, tubes all came up as different colors and symbols on the map. His head hurt.
         The elevator doors opened giving Eli a second’s notice to shut off the flashlight, but not enough time to scramble out of the way. An androgynous looking robot looked down at him on the floor and the map before crouching down to his level.
         “Hello,” it’s tenor voice echoes slightly like a soft microphone. “What are you doing here?”
         “J-just looking for a place to stay.”
         “Oh, all right then.” The robot stood up. “Technically you are not allowed, but since I do not see the harm in letting one person sleep here, you can follow me. It seems you are caught in the system.”
         “I suppose so.”
         The robot smiled. “Yes you are. This way.”
         It led Eli down the hall towards a small glass door with a silver plaque reading: “Robot Ambassador.” The door opened with a little creak into a small office with a desk and two chairs. The robot closed the door after Eli and locked it.
         “I often sleep here,” it said. “They will not bother us.”
         “Thank you,” Eli said taking a seat in a ripped leather chair by the door. “I’m called Eli.”
         “Oh, yes, names,” the robot smiled. “I forget it is a common formality with humans. I am called Exec.”
         “Pleased to meet you, Exec,” Eli said. Then after a short pause, “Begging your pardon, but I am not human,” he added with an odd sense that it was necessary.
         Exec narrowed his eyes and looked Eli up and down. “You look human. How can you not be human?”
         “I’m a clone,” Eli said.
         “Oh yes,” Exec said with a smile. “You are of another outcast race like me. Your kind is bred for spare human parts just like we fight their wars. It seems to me, friend, that we are meant to meet.”
         It was Eli’s turn to smile. “I think that’s a pleasant way of looking at things.”
         “Pleasantry is how I get through my days and nights.”
         Eli bid his companion good night and curled up as comfortably in the chair as he could. The leather creaked with even the slightest movement and the arm of the chair dug into his legs and back, but Eli had never slept better nor felt as warm and comfortable in the drafty office as he ever had in his life.

Sad State of Affairs

    “Are you sure you want to know about the state of affairs?”
     “Yes. It’s crucial, no? If I want to be a citizen.”
     Celina sighed and took a sip of her tomato juice. Ejina was probably never going to be a citizen of earth, but it didn’t seem to matter if she knew what was going on.
     “Well, it started with World War III the other war to end all wars. No one’s really sure how it started but the old newspapers mention something out oil and terrorism. Anyway it started and it’s still happening.
     “So the world is divided by alliances and they’re given funny names. Well, the names are forgotten and everyone starts calling them by their uniform color: Navy, Green, Gold, Scarlet, Black, White, and Violet. I don’t remember which countries belonged to which group, but by now it doesn’t matter. The groups are constantly fighting each other so much that each country pretty much has a uniform. Common people not in politics have picked a side and statistics show that about a quarter of the world’s population switches sides everyday.”
     “That seems like a lot.”
     “It is, but while they don’t change their uniforms (because you could be lynched for that) they change their point of view. It’s hard to rule when you don’t know whether or not you’re going to be killed because you’re minority. People live in constant fear of their own country, let alone others.
     “So they passed the Color Match act that stated there were only two instances when cruel and unusual punishment would be waved: if you killed someone based on uniform color without government consent, or you were a traitor. The goal was to get people to where their colors without being afraid of being brutally murdered. And for the most part, it worked. Here in the U.S., while the navies are discriminated against, they just lash out by making their own restaurants and houses wherever they want. It works pretty well.”
     “But the government can take advantage of that.”
     “Well, hopefully the militia won’t be killing random citizens wearing the wrong color, but if they do, they’re stripped of their title and license. So they become one of us. It’s like a warning, so to say, and the next time, you’re tortured.
    Ejina winced.
    “A lot of people switched colors because they didn’t like the torture aspect; gold is the only one not to pass that law, and I guess because of it, they don’t have any traitors. People there never got beaten for their colors, anyway. Well, I guess you know what’s going on…”
    “Not quite. How did we come in?”
    “Intergalactic stuff? You found us, we didn’t find you. Someone just showed up and went, oh, look, a pretty planet. Let us join you. Be part of our embassy. And that’s sort of how it happened.”
    “Oh.”
    “Not quite what you thought, huh?”
    “Not really.”
    “Well, it’s the truth. Now that we’ve got aliens though intermingling, it makes life a little different for those on the front lines. Anyway, you still want to be a citizen?”
    “I’m thinking not.”
    “I wouldn’t either."

Starry Skies

            Mika leaned against the edge of the balcony and looked at the glowing night sky. She never thought of New Chicago as pretty even though the city did what it could to keep down light pollution. She never liked the restrictions on flying altitudes because there was always someone who would break the rules and come barging onto her balcony at the worst times. She hated the automatic breakfast machine that she had to buy because she was constantly on the run. She hated that computers had taken over everything.
            “Something wrong, Mi?” a metallic voice called from farther in her bedroom.
            Well, she hated most computers. “No.”
            Cooper Clark, fighting model F16 was put out of commission in World War III in 2052, only twenty years before the war actually ended. Now, conflict had sprung up again between Saudi Arabia and the United States, but currently it was only a cold war. Mika didn’t like it, at any rate. She was general of the fighting ranks of robots (who were the only things actually shooting at each other, these days) and took the old ones under her wing after they were too damaged to fight. One of Cooper’s legs was copper, unlike the rest of his chrome body and clinked a bit. She was only an amateur at that point for fixing robots, and he was her first one from her battalion she had ever fixed. He was in pretty bad shape, but his mental facilities were working exceptionally well since she fixed him.
            “They made us a little too human, didn’t they?” he said, moving next to her and taking her hand.
            Mika smiled. “I hate this.”
            Cooper laughed. “You’ve always been so cynical,” he turned his back to the noise outside and leaned against the balcony. “But at least homosexual marriage is acceptable now. It was just approved on the news this morning. And relations between Saudi Arabia and the U.S. have been a little better.”
            “You know how everyone is. Backstabbing.”
            Cooper sighed. “How’s that job, you’ve got?”
            “It pays.”
            “Mika, you should be doing something you love.”
            She laughed. “You said so yourself: I don’t like anything.”
            “Why don’t you move this whole operation to Montana or Minnesota? They’re still keeping land under reserves. More people are actually going to the cities to avoid weather and whatnot. With global warming, it doesn’t matter where you stay on this continent; the climate has sort of leveled out throughout the world. Places are opening up all over that area. You’d like it better.”
            “I’m sure wherever I go, the government would have work for me.”
            “Is that what you’re worried about?” He leaned over to her and brushed her short velvet hair out of her face. “Don’t worry about that.”
            She sighed and faced him, without speaking. He grabbed her hand and stood up. “Let’s go back to bed.”
            She smiled and followed him in. She locked the glass doors and closed the curtains after they were inside. She shut off the lamp and sat down on the easy chair in the corner, gracefully lifting her legs onto the ottoman before leaning back and closing her eyes. She had a lot on her mind lately, but Cooper was right. It was probably better for her to go to the country than stay in the city. She sighed and pushed all thoughts out of her mind so that she could go to sleep.

Titan Base IV

            “Damn I need a cup of tea,” Sarah said rolling out of bed as the alarm went off for her to get ready for her shift and head to the cockpit.
            She heard a laugh over the intercom as her coworker came onto the speakers to fill her in for her shift. “That’s very un-American of you. Very British,” he said in a thick Scottish accent.
            “Just because I don’t like coffee,” she said smiling, “doesn’t make me un-American.”
            “Right,” he said, “just like I don’t like whiskey, my friends think I’m un-Scottish. But that doesn’t matter, now. We seem to have a little Whisperer on our tails and she’s been flitting in and out of our radar. I don’t like it, but the captain said to leave it alone.”
            “Why is that not surprising?” Sarah said rolling her eyes.
            “Hey now, you don’t have a right to complain about Captain Banks. I’m not going to say that I like him and his leadership, but you gave up the position. I don’t have a choice and you don’t see me complaining.”
            “Is that all?” she said clipping on her tool belt.
            “I think that’s it. We’ve got little more than a day’s fuel so we’ve got to stop for refreshments at the next station.”
            “Alright, check and over, Sean. I’m on my way.”
            The intercom crackled off and she headed down the dimly lit corridor of the resident rooms where people were still sleeping. Getting night shift had its advantages: the captain was asleep for most of it so she didn’t have to deal with him. She also got to skip his after meal speeches twice a day where he ordered the crew around. But she had to deal with him breathing down her neck after her shift when he was awake enough to notice she wasn’t working. Several times when she was caught, she was sent to triple check that the system was working or help the cleaning bots with various manual things.
            She reached the brightly lit control station and sat down in her seat next to Sean. She took the output cord where she had left it the night before and plugged it into the input behind her ear. There was a click as the ships data quickly filed into her brain. The controls flashed under her fingers in a blue light and she could see the radar screen in her left field of vision. It would flash red occasionally when a small dot appeared on the very edge of the radar, but went green again when the dot disappeared. She heard Sean pull the plug out of his input and place it on the manual controls. He stood up and walked over to her, bending down so his mouth was level with her other ear.
            “Good luck,” he whispered and patted her on the shoulder before walking off the way she came to go to sleep. She watched him go through the various computer maps and controls before losing sight of him and watching the blank sky ahead of her.
            The clock at the bottom of the screen ran at the universal twenty-four hour system and when it said it was four twenty three, she buzzed into the nearest headquarters.
            “Titan Base IV,” a woman’s voice came on, “reading ship 46571, the Diana.”
            Sarah sighed at the woman’s use of the article but continued, “Diana requesting landing for fuel. Stay for three hours in our own docking point.”
            “Access granted. Your code is being sent and downloaded now. Present this to the guard computers when asked. If I may ask,” the woman added after a pause, “if I’m speaking with the famed Sarah Meluski?”
            “Yes you are, Carla.”
            The woman laughed. “You’ve always been so good at guessing. Anyway, security is heightened since that incident at Betelgeuse VII. The earth federation is going haywire over that psychologist Cindy coming back with evidence of the supplementary mafia, but what are you going to do?”
            “Oh so that’s what this war is about. I try to keep myself out of politics. To me, this is a shooting game like I played with my brothers. Keeps me detached and has kept me alive.”
            “I know,” Carla said. “Look if they’re monitoring our conversation, I’m in big trouble.”
            “Same here.”
            “I’d better go. Say hello to Sean for me. I miss him so much.”
            “Will do. Just get me in with no trouble and I’ll send him over to you.”
            She laughed. “I wish I could see him. Anyway, I have to go.”
            “Wait,” Sarah said quickly glancing at the red radar in the corner of her screen, “I’ve got a Whisperer on my tail just floating out of my sight. You might want to have Security check it out when I get closer or at least get them in on the fact that I’ve got a leech following me.”
            “I’m putting that request in right now. We’ll see what we can do.”
            “Thanks.”
            “No problem, bye.”
            Sarah laughed at her sister’s demeanor as soon as she knew she was off of their speaker. There was bustling behind her in the kitchen as soon as they pulled up into the station. She turned on the intercom over the ship and cleared her throat gently.
            “Good morning crew of Diana,” she said in her best announcer voice. “We’re coming into port at Titan Base IV on the Earth Federation. We’ll be stopping for fuel but we have our own private dock and a three-hour lease to it. If you would like breakfast on this ship, you’re welcome to eat provided you come to an agreement with the chef. Otherwise, I suggest you wait until we land,” she shut off the intercom and smiled. She watched the clock in the corner of the screen click off seconds until she heard her captain’s footsteps coming down into the cockpit, exactly as she had expected.
            “Who gave you permission to access a three hour lease to port, let alone to land?” he said calmly. She shivered; his calm demeanor was not what she expected and was harder to deal with than his screaming. It must be too early, she thought.
            “I thought we could do with a small break. Besides, we’ll be under protection of the Earth Federation and we’ve got a whisperer on our tails. I needed to get us in and approved so they could help us if the leech decided to take over.”
            He yawned. Yep, definitely too early, she said relaxing, saved by it being morning. “Fine,” he said. “I’m getting breakfast.”
            She wondered if he even heard a thing she said, but she was thankful that he wasn’t grumpier the earlier in the morning it was. As the base came into site, Sean ran down and sat in the chair next to her.
            “Need help landing?” he asked as he plugged himself into the console.
            “Not really.”
            He shrugged. “My wife’s in charge of this base, I just want to hear her voice.”
            Sarah smiled. “I know.”
            “Titan Base VI calling Diana. State your business,” a man’s voice said. Sarah saw Sean lean back annoyed in her peripheral vision.
            “I was given this code,” Sarah said pressing a blue key to transmit the data.
            “Your code was processed and acceptable. Welcome to Titan Base IV and enjoy your stay.”
            “Sorry,” Sarah said turning to Sean.
            “It doesn’t matter,” he said unplugging himself from the console. She steered the ship into the small port door, which shut quickly behind her and glided neatly to the floor. She unplugged herself from the console and shut off the ship, taking out the activation key. She turned to Sean who had stayed in his seat and smiled.
            “Welcome to Titan Base IV.”

Betelgeuse VII: Finale

           When both of them were tired, they decided on shifts for the night. Cindy watched the sun go down and the clear-lit moon rise up, lighting the sand to blue crystals. She relaxed and allowed her eyes to droop just slightly. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, the man she had met was being dragged ever so slightly behind her. She turned around quickly and grabbed his ankle in one movement. The black shape behind her pulled him faster, and she scramble to keep up with his moving figure. He had awaken by then and was trying to put his feet down to run, but couldn’t because she was holding on. In the darkness, she felt his hand grab her shoulder and she let go of his ankle and grabbed his outstretched arm. Their hands linked and she felt safe again; she became conscious of her heartbeat and tried to slow it down. Minutes went by when she spotted another single spot light on a box. They stopped in front of it and another pair of hands pushed her into the circle of light alone. She opened the box carefully and peered inside. Surprisingly, there was no rolled parchment, but a small pistol that she had seen before in movies set in the nineteen forties. She reached to pick it up, but stopped and withdrew her hand. Remember he likes theatrics. Fine, she thought, I’ll give him theatrics. She kicked over the box and stepped back to the edge of the light. Silence followed the crash of the box falling and the skid of the pistol across the floor. Then there was a click of a pulley being let down before a final click where it stopped behind her. Maxwell 700 got off the elevator and stepped beside her. For a few moments they stood staring at each other before he walked over and picked up the pistol. Aiming it at her he click off the safety.
           “At your word,” he said firmly.
           She took a deep breath. “It’s roulette,” she said moving closer to the small barrel. “Shoot.”
           The gun went off and silence followed; both stood motionless for the unknown amount of time to follow. Then she took a step forward and the lights came up on a warehouse filled with wires. The single door at the end of the long room shuttered and clicked as someone struggled with the door. Quickly, she ran to the 700 and wrenched the gun out of his hand. He stayed statue still with his hand still hovering over an imaginary trigger.
           “Cindy, what the hell?” Aaron yelled. He coughed suddenly and fell on the floor. Cindy ran over to him, but stayed quiet. She felt a tug at her stomach as invisible hands tried to pull it and the rest of her digestive tract out her mouth. She lurched forward. Cold hands pulled her backwards and slipped a gas mask over her face. Through foggy lenses, she saw people collapse, a few managing to scream as the motionless robots stood perfectly still through the haze. She turned around to see who had joined her and met Margarita’s glassy eyes.
           “I’m half robot,” she said, pulling Cindy up. “I’m only half fading.” She smiled and gave Cindy a little push. “The door is straight ahead if you follow the left wall. Get the hell out of here before he wakes his robots up.”
           Without second warning, Cindy ran. She ran up the stairs past the point of her lungs bursting and her legs burning with pain. She ran until she reached the top of the stairs and her outstretched hand met resistance. Pushing with all of her weight, she reached the bathroom stall where she had first met Trish. She had knocked over the toilet in her haste and it lay cracked on the tile floor. Cindy replaced the trap door and just for good measure, put the pieces of the toilet over the door. Only then did she stop to breath and take of the mask. She dropped the mask on the toilet debris and stepped out of the stall. A girl with fire engine red hair was looking at herself in the mirror and putting on matching red lipstick.
           “How long will you be gone?” she asked, but Cindy ignored her and walked out of the bathroom back into the terminal. The river of people was still continuing its separate ways, ignoring the black holes of doorways in the walls. She heard a crash behind her of smashed porcelain and with a final rush of adrenaline, entered the stream of people.
           She followed a small group who broke off from the stream to a terminal returning back to Earth. Hesitating about whether or not she should sneak on, she bought a ticket at the booth and waited at the terminal. The intercom buzzed on and announced boarding just as a medium height boy with rustled black hair came running up to her. Everything except his face looked like Aaron. She turned away and hurried onto the airbus. She heard the boy being stopped by the guards at the door for not having a ticket before the door closed and eliminated the sound. The threesome argued for a bit before the engines kicked in and she flew away.
           A few months later a package arrived in the mail. In it was a box of flowers and an obituary: “Aaron Cane, age 17 was found dead in the middle of the Betelgeuse VII terminal on August 24. He was apparently asphyxiated. May his body and soul rest in peace.” She found no name attached to the letter, but she put the flowers in a vase and the newspaper clipping on her bulletin board. Then, she locked her office door and took a shuttle down to Betelgeuse VII. Taking a deep breath of the air, she just sat down in the middle of the terminal where she had imagined him being found. She meditated for hours that first day before getting up, her face streaked with tears, and getting on a shuttle back to Earth.
           Eventually the flowers wilted and the obituary faded, but she would still visit the Betelgeuse VII terminal every month and sit in the spot where she imagined he was found. She didn’t know why something in her needed to go back for closure, but she would satisfy it anyway. Every month she would stand back up after an hour had passed and buy another ticket back to her office on Earth. Although she never really knew him and couldn’t figure out why she would get so depressed on August 24, she would half imagine a medium height boy with ruffled black hair nonchalantly walking on the bus and sitting next to her.
           “I’ve got a problem,” he would say pulling out a videotape, “my friend’s gone missing.”
           She smiled. I think we could all say that, she thought and watched the Betelgeuse VII terminal out her window slowly getting farther away.

Betelgeuse VII: Riddles

            “You aught to know what happened to Sandra,” Margarita said, quietly, glancing at the 700 to make sure he wasn’t watching her. “She was an actress, a good one too. And when Maxwell decided that he needed her, she disappeared from the scene. He erased her records, burned her films, and got rid of her completely. No one knew what had happened and when there was no written work, people just assumed she wasn’t real. Then, he used her. She was the face of democracy, she was the distractions he needed to get into hotels, past security, and rubbing elbows with the people we were to kill. Her last job was this tape. She wrote out the lines that Aaron had to say and then went into one of those rooms and recited her lines. Improvised the hell out of them and then, like promised, killed herself. Well, that’s what we were told, but no corpse can be so mangled if she did it to herself. We had no idea whether this would work until long after she was dead. None of us, except Aaron and Maxwell had seen it before.”
            “Why are you telling me this?” Cindy asked, pale. She could feel her hands getting numb from the cold and her stomach was knotting up at the smile the 700 had on his face.
            Margarita shrugged. “I didn’t seem to hurt to tell you. Whatever he’s got planned, I’m sure it won’t matter if you know a little bit more about the morals we run on. I was drafted into this, like you, and no matter how much you know, if you get out alive, the information you have won’t make a difference.”
            Maxwell 700 stood up and bowed. “Please excuse us, we will be a while. Some preparations need to be made.”
            As the 700 and his entourage of robots walked towards a nearby door, Aaron walked over to her with a smile. “Well, nervous?”
            Margarita pushed him away. “She doesn’t need you anymore. Why should she trust you?”
            “And she should trust you?” Aaron sat down on the step and leaned against the wall like he had done in her office. “God, he’s making this so long. Why can’t he just get it over with? I’m sick of all the drama.”
            “It seems like his whole existence is drama,” Cindy said, sitting next to him. “What’s you’re story, Aaron? I can’t believe you’ve been here all your life.”
            “Yep. I’ve pretty much help build the place. Before I inherited the title of ‘technology connoisseur,’ we had a guy down here that would do nothing but build traps, lights; basically all the stage junk you see here. It’s crazy. He’s probably going to push a button and create an entirely new room.”
            Margarita sat down on the floor between the two. “Hey, Aaron. Weren’t you drafted down here? You used to live with you’re parents on Earth, right?”
            Aaron sighed. “My parents were target for trying to get the robots off Earth and keep it purely environmental. It was a sticky situation, but somehow they succeeded and the word got all the way to Betelgeuse VII. After that, he pulled me down here to do mostly tech jobs, but occasional assassinations. Nothing too big. See, I acted too before I came here and I managed to make him believe I was sincere in my cause. It’s up to you to trust us, but I thought before you go, just a couple tips, it seems like he’s almost done. If he uses room seven, just make sure not to touch anything. Room six, I would not look into the light. Room five, Keep down low, and don’t stand up all the way. Room four, I hope not, but there are lots of weapons in room four. Try not to touch anything, but if you’re in a jam, there are plenty of things to use. Don’t believe anything you see in room three and room two and room one should be fine. They’re just storage rooms, so you’re not going to be there. If you are, just use the walls; they’re the only two rooms with real walls.”
            Cindy gaped at him. “Wait! Room seven, don’t— “
            “No time,” Aaron said getting up walking away with a faux air of superior annoyance, “remember he likes theatrics.”
            Maxwell 700 announced his arrival with the clank of rusty metal. “The idea is quite simple,” he started, lifting her up from her seat and escorting her to the only open door in the room. “It’s less of a strength game than one of wits. You receive a riddle and when you answer the riddle, you are given a key. The key will enable you to continue to the next room. Take as long as you need. Good luck.” At these last words, the 700 pushed her into the room and shut the door loudly. She waited for the click of the lock before a single spotlight clicked on to a box in the middle of the room. She approached it slowly, but remained on the outside of the circle of light. Cindy looked up into the rafters, trying to find the light source and hopefully, what the 700 had in store for her. She remained absolutely still and waited. At a point, it took her entire will to stop her mind from just pulling the rest of her into the circle of light and move, but she remained composed. Compromising, she sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
            She was awakened by the sound of the door opening and someone entering, but there was no other sound following that. She turned around to face her visitor, but couldn’t see anything and when she turned around a figure had stepped into the light and opened the chest in the middle. Instantly, there was a whir of machinery and clicks of the room being changed. The robot calmly handed her the piece of paper and stood facing her without another move. At her touch, the paper disintegrated and turned into a sandy powder. Lights dimmed on in front of her to reveal a beach. She felt the robot pushing her forward towards the soft sand, pulsing waves, and warm breeze. Cindy took a deep breath of the metallic air and turned to face the source of the waves to brush away the wisps of hair starting to frame her face. Her eyes rested on a lone figure sitting on the sand. The creature’s hair was black and the artificial sun gave it a blue glow. As she approached, she saw it was an ageless man resting his head on his knees, his green-gray eyes focused on the sea. He made no move of recognition when she caught up with him and sat down next to him on the sand. She followed his gaze with her own pastel blue eyes to the glowing white line of the horizon.
            “I suppose you want the question,” he said. His voice was thick with a Scottish accent and her mind took a few seconds to comprehend what he had said. He took this as an answer and concluded, “I don’t know.”
            “Quite,” she said, though she couldn’t figure out why. “Just the key if you will.”
            The man looked at her. “Key?”
            “Well, if you don’t have the question, then surely you have the key.”
            He looked at her blankly for a moment and then laughed. His laughter ceased as quickly as it had started and he looked at her with stone cold eyes. “Clever of you. But while I don’t have a question, I do have an answer.”
            They sat looking at each other for a while before Cindy stood up. “Get up,” she said, annoyed. She pulled him from his seat and dragged him across the sand.
            He protested and tried pulling his arm away from hers when he thought she was relaxing her grip, but she managed to hold on fast to his arm and drag him across the beach. Her stomach started to growl when she dared stop and she plopped onto the ground, pulling the man down with her.
            “I haven’t seen the end of this beach,” the man said out of breath. He was lying on the sand, his arm still in her hand, leaning against his elbow as best he could manage. He gazed at her quietly for a few moments while trying to regain his breath. “I don’t suppose there is an exit. People come in all the time, but no one has ever come out.”
            Cindy stared at the waves reluctantly. “Where is everybody?”
            The man sighed and lied down in the sand submissively. “I’m the last one. The girl I found just disappeared after I got lost. She made me swear for my life to say to the next person who came in: I suppose you want the question, but I don’t know. And the other rubbish.”
            Cindy looked at him with a start. “How’d you get lost?”
            “I just—I don’t know. Suddenly I was here all alone and after walking for days, I couldn’t find anyone else.”
            “Damn, I knew it!” Cindy cried, pinching her nose bridge with her free hand.
            “What?” the man asked, scrambling to sit up to be at eye level with her.
            “That’s the riddle. Well, not really. The whole this is a puzzle.”
            “I don’t understand.”
            “He puts someone into this room and says to solve a riddle and you get a key. This key is how you get to the next room. The riddle is figuring out that he removes the previous person when a new person comes in. You could leave, but then I’m stuck until someone else comes. The key is you; you’re my ticket out of here. The next room is wherever you lead me when they take you away. So, we can’t get separated or I’m stuck.”
            The man looked at her. “I’ve never realized that.” He sat there in silence for a while before prying his arm gently from her grip. “If you promise to get me out, I’ll try and help you. But I don’t want to be stuck here any longer.”
            Cindy put her hand on his shoulder. “I promise."

To be continued…