From: <IO20902@MAINE.MAINE.EDU>
Subject: The Wanderer - Moved from a.c
Sorry for earlier posting of this on regular alt.cyberpunk, didn't know this
was the appropriate place to post fiction (Since it was in my excluded groups
I never knew this group existed.) This is a pseudo-reposting of my first real
(Finished) Cyberpunkish Science-Fiction. Some rights reserved on concept for
the main character (The Wanderer), contact for details. insert std_disclaim.c
here. Please send ideas, flames, critiques, commendations, etc to me at
io20902@maine.edu
Joshua G Johnston
--------+--------
Shadez of Gray
The wandering one stood atop the mound of dirt that was the only feature
of the land for an eternity of miles. Clad in tan Dockers and a Branded
Lion overcoat, the twenty year old youth (or man?) looked at the glowing
blank skies. After a few moments of this, he removed the red frame Backpack
from his shoulders and placed at at his side. Digging through his pockets,
he removed a variety of items. A two hundred year old American Dollar, a
watch from three hundred years in the future, a current issue of The
Galactic Reference, assorted money from twelve worlds, and a large laser
scoped plasma pistol from Xamathus IV four centuries in the future.
Sitting down, he placed the pistol at his side and removed his Heavy
jacket, rolling it to make a comfortable headrest. lying down, he slid the
left sleeve of his black-and-white sweater up, to his elbow. Passing his
right hand over the skin of his left forearm, the Textugraphic flesh
dissappeared, and the reality of cybernetic limbs was revealed. A large
color graphic display was wired into the arm, appearing to grow from the
organized mass of toothpick sized hydraulics. On this display screen were
the words:
-< TECHNICAL SUPPORT SYSTEMS: UNIT NUMBER JJDS3958 >-< CHRONO:1/2/5.34 >-
Unit Fully Functional
1 week, 2 days, 5 Hours and Thirty Four Minutes was duration of last
mission.
Next Mission Location: Antragg-Viod I (Population: Humanoid)
Planetary Conditions: (Exterior) -2 degrees celsius winds of 124KPH
average. Planetary rotation: 4.6 Standard Days (Interior) temperature
9 degrees celsius in main passageways, winds of .2-1.5KPH variably to
WECON (Weather Control) requirements. Length of Day: 1 Standard Day
Brief Summary: Founded in the Days Of Expansion (RUPE=64) Antragg-Viod
One is based on the Cybernetic Survival Precepts. (He with the best
enhancements, lives.) Being a notorious domed city, Gharek (The
Capital) has a reputation for drug traffiking and weapons design and
sales. The epitomy of typical 1990's Earth "Cyberpunk" fiction, this
world has a superbly defended main marketplace and a well trained,
enhanced force of guards.
Mission: Simply defined. Disrupt drug trafficking, and destroy the
weapons market. For recall, use the wristlink to signal the Wave.
The wanderer pondered his mission and the background and smiled. This was
his kind of job. Even odds, he supposed, would make it interesting. He lay
down to rest in the short interval he had earned.
Another day dawned in the artificial world of Gharek. all along the five
tiered plaza of merchants. Sellers and buyers alike set up thier stalls of
goods. Trading everything from fruit to slaves and guns, merchants readied
for the rush of offworld traders and slavers. Guards cleaned and checked
thier automatic weapons diligently. An average of twenty people a day
attempted to steal from or shut down the market. None succeded... Many
Died, or were killed... Depending on whom you spoke with reactions to the
many deaths were varied. Enhanced cyborgs strolled through the electronic
stalls looking for the all important upgrades that would allow them to
command a higher fee for thier services, whatever they were. The beings
that strolled the plaza were invariably humanoid in heritage, for being an
alien in this place was an invitation to death. the lower tier, the common
market was lightly guarded by relatively relaxed guards, but the other
levels had protection ranging from benign to hostile. On Tier One, Legal
and morally safe products were sold, Vegetables, Fruit, Household
Utilities. On Tier two, other things were sold, Meat, computers, basic
cybernetic enhancements. On Three, more complex items were sold, with
somewhat risky backgrounds. Most items here were stolen. Level Four, was
the main underground Cybernetics market. Almost anything could be done
here. at a possible risk to the client. Level five, the "fortress" level
was the place people really came for. Here were the flesh markets, bordellos
and weapons dealers. As well as the ever popular Druglabs. An hour after
the market opened, a quarter of a million people swarmed around the huge
complex. Among them was the wanderer.
The wanderer had very little question as to how he would handle the
situation. Blending in with the crowd was easy. making his way through it
was not. after a few minutes of slipping past the crowds, he arrived at a
fruit peddler on the first tier.
"What would you like, sir?" the thin trader asked. "I have delicacies from
six different worlds! Mandagos from Kahfa perhaps? Moundew Melon from
Fraht?" He pointed at the fruits arrayed behind him. Quickly scanning the
price list, as the wanderer adjusted his dark sunglasses he noticed that he
had been shown the two most expensive items.
"Give me a couple apples, and I'll try a Moundew I suppose."
"Very good selections. How do you wish to pay?" asked the trader, having
lost a bit of his enthusiasm, after noticing the large pistol strapped to
the waist of his customer.
"Here," said the wanderer, removing his GalCred card from his pocket, "Put
it on this. I'm sure the card is good."
The trader placed the card in the testing slot and gasped at the enourmous
limit on the card. With that much money this customer could buy the whole
planet of Fraht. "Just a moment, sir.. Let me doublecheck the machine." the
thin trader pressed a small orange button on the card tester and a few
seconds later passed the card back to the traveler.
"Alright, your card has checked out. Here is your purchase.. Have a nice
cycle." the trader bowed as he completed the transaction.
"You too." replied the anderer.
The wanderer placed the apples in his overcoat, and unbuttoned the front,
revealing the combat vest beneath. Removing a large multi-blade from the
inner pocket he flipped out the laser cutter and deftly sliced the Moundew
in half. Sliding the blade back into the knife he then flipped out a spoon
from the side of the compact tool and swiftly carved out the greenish pulp
of the Melon. Flipping the half circle of fruit into the air he stepped
forward and caught it in his mouth, simply swiping it from midair and
missing none of the juices that accompanied it's flight. Not caring greatly
for the taste he tossed the uneaten portion in a wastebasket a few yards
away. Making his way through the crowd, he noticed a small commotion at the
other end of the well-lit plaza. Peering over the heads of the other
shoppers was simple, the average height of the inhabitants of Antragg-Viod
was just over a meter and a half whilst he stood a full two meters or so.
His view was rarely blocked by the other traders in this area. A few had
the "Long-n-Lean" look of the spaceborn, stooping somewhat under the heavy
gravity of the large planet. As one who had grown up at 1-G his frame was
lightly affected. This world had a 1.5-G rating, but he was perfectly
comfortable, having just left a 2.1-G mission. He welcomed the relief.
Ahead of him, a man who must have been A full two and a half meters tall
coped gallantly with the gravity, pressing his broad bald bulk through the
crowd. The large man turned at a junction and headed towards the space
docks, a section having little to do with the mission at hand. A man, clad
in a blue Kevlar suit (of Old Earth manufacture) bounced off the wanderer
and apologized profusely. The wanderer glanced at the man and glared at him
for a moment. A moment was all it took to startle the man into slipping his
hand just about a millimeter into sight. His hand held the wanderers
wallet. He turned and began sprinting through the crowd. A split second
after the man ran, the wanderer bolted forward in pursuit. The crowd
suddenly parted before the fleeing man and his pursuer, they knew well the
dangers of this kind of race. In front of the fleeing man two other men
clad in the same Kevlar Suits stepped into view and reaching for thier
sidearms took visual bearings on the wanderer. The Wanderer thought quickly.
Two, possibly three men with guns of unknown strength, unknown accuracy
but professional appearance. Not good. Best possible move? Offense.
The wanderer dropped to the ground at a full run, sliding forward on his
chest at high speed. But even as he had dropped his weapon was in his
hands. A green outline of a circle appeared on the lower back of the
runner. The long barreled black and gold pistol beeped to indicate a lethal
charge, and he fired.. The explosive pulse of plasma leapt from the barrel
and immolated the lower torso of the man in blue fire. The men ahead of him
immediately leveled thier weapons at the fallen man and fired at the
corpse, spraying the burning body with hot projectiles, rendering it a mid
sized pile of fleshy chunks. The high pitched whine of the Gauss Pistol
energy generators died out as the magnetic pulses ceased. The wanderer
quickly scanned his immediate vicinity and saw that the only threat was the
men in Blue Kevlar. Turning to fire, he saw that the men had dissappeared
from sight, leaving nothing but a ripple in the crowd. Getting to his feet
was harder than expected, due to the increased gravity.
Gravity was not the major problem for the wanderer. His real problem was
visibility. About three hundred people had seen him kill a man. He didnt
enjoy killing with such little provocation as this. He walked over to the
corpse, searching for possible foes the entire time. When he reached the
pool of blood, the crowd had resumed some semblance of order. Only the
immediate vicinity, about six feet around, was empty. Bending over to
inspect the remains, he scooped up a bit of the mans uniform and examined
it. Blue fabric, with a patch on it, the patch had the design of a large
starship. The starship had lettering emblazoned on it, "Th'Galam:Integrity"
A red border surrounded the greenish-yellow patch. This man may have been a
crewman on that ship, he surmised. Searching the man for any other
identifiying objects, the search revealed a large amount of money in the
local currency, the Kilreag. Liberating the money from the corpse was
simple, no resistance. He was supposed to stop the weapons dealing and drug
trafficking, but there was no problem with his making a few bucks on the
side. Moving the pile of bloody flesh over a bit, he plucked the remains of
his own wallet from the mess. Noticing a burn mark on the faded Foldsteel
case he brushed it with his hand to wipe it off. The mark faded from view
as easily as if it were sand. Placing the wallet back in his pocket, he
turned and walked off toward the escalators to the second level.
Delashia had been picked up during a raid on the colony ships headed
towards the terraformed world of Grabna. Of the thirty thousand people that
had left Earth's moon, ten thousand had been killed when the attack had cut
off thier cryos. She had been aboard the Raden-II, the lead ship of the
fleet. Her cryo chamber was unharmed by the attackers. No damage had come
to the Raden. Having been awakened only two standards ago, she was
unharmed. Looking around her she saw four other women, still clad in the
blue skinsuits they had all worn in the cryo chambers. The walls of the
room they were in were mirrored, likely allowing one-way vision from the
outside. As she searched the blank walls for a means of escape, like she
had for days, the lights, which were quite bright, suddenly went dark. her
last conscious thought was, where was that sliding noise come from?
The wanderer slowly exited the escalator, surveying his new surroundings.
The second level was much like the first, except for the long glassed in
oval in the center. The oval looked like the inner circle of an oblong
doughnut, allowing a view down into the stalls on the first level. The
second floor was much more orderly than the lower level. The level was
built like an oval racetrack, with "lanes" seperated for clockwise and
counter-clockwise walking. At this end of the oval, were the banks of
escalators,elevators and cargo lifts. Myriad stalls appeared to cover this
level in an orderly layout, however the odd few stood out, by having two or
more stalls covered by a heavy canvas or plastic tarpaulin, joining them as
one large shop. It was towards one of these that the wanderer saw a large
crowd gathering, disregarding the order of the lanes. The wanderer was not
interested in this small black market. His objective was a much larger
evil.. Walking over to the UP escalator he joined the small crowd heading
up to the more dangerous levels. Ahead of him on the escalator was a person
resplendent in a golden plated suit of reflecting armor. A large plasma
cannon was strapped to his back, the matte black finish standing out
against the yellowish glow. The Wanderer looked at the ground beneath him
move as he stepped onto the escalator again, the plated stair moved slowly
but continiously upward. Glancing behind him he noticed no disturbances in
the crowd. Ahead however, a man in a blue skinsuit ran downward, fighting
against the movement of the escalator and the people on it. Behind the man
were two men in black and silver. The black and silver uniforms of the
pursuers had a large lightning bolt imprinted in a crest on thier tinted
helmets. As the man in blue got nearer the wanderer could hear his voice
and the urgency of his tone.
"I won't go back there you bastards! Never! Help me get out of here,
someone! Please!"
The man then grabbed a woman in a mink coat and started pleading to her,
she responded by screaming at him in terror. By the time the wanderer
reached the terrified man, the men in black and silver were only five feet
behind him. The two men made a grab for the runner and missed. The man in
blue turned to the side and leapt over the railing, falling forty feet to
the ground below. The wanderer looked down at the fallen body and watched
it slowly begin to rise. The men, standing next to him stopped fighting for
position on the wide escalator and began to rise toward the top again.
Something about the blue suit the man was wearing seemed familiar. with
kevlar for material, the cut would still be the same.
"CBLD, Enhanced visual, magnification thirty." the wanderer spoke into his
jacket mounted microphone. As he finished the words, a small yellow box
appeared in the upper left of his field of vision. The box quickly filled
with a vision of the struggling man. As the man stood, he turned his chest
toward the wanderers vision. Quickly focusing on the right side of the
chest, he sighted on the emblem. Th'Galam:Integrity. This was definately an
unexpected turn of events. Vaulting over the railing, the wanderer gave a
short blast of antigrav before hitting the ground, keeping himself on his
feet. Uninjured he walked off in the direction the man in blue limped in.
Scanning the area for people in blue he almost missed hearing the thud of
a falling body behind him. Quickly turning, he saw the man in golden plate
leap to his feet and begin to pursue the fleeing man. Reaching out with his
right arm, he grabbed the golden soldier and restrained him, using only the
one hand to grasp the mans neck. A swift chop to the temple would normally
follow but the man in gold was too fast for him. Throwing a swift kick at
the Wanderer he knocked him off his feet and held a wrist mounted laserbow
to the Wanderers throat.
"Dont move, pal. Just dont move a muscle."
The Wanderer, sensing the possible problem forthcoming disagreed.
"Give me one reason why I shouldnt kill you right now?" the wanderer
sneered.
"Here's one," said a very female voice as he blacked out.
......SENSOR..RESET..COMMENCING......
....MAGNETIC..SCRAMBLER..DETECTED....
.............COMPENSATING............
"Feeling any better hotshot?" asked the voice behind his KO'ing. His eyes
were still adjusting to the flood of light to his long-unused irises.
"Better than when?" he said as he attempted to stand, only to find his
movement blocked by restraining straps. Fuck it. RRRRIIIIPPPP.. The straps
came loose as if they were cheap velcro. Standing up he scanned his local
area for people. He saw a lot of them.
He was standing in a room full of bedraggled men and women, all wearing
the blue of the runner. Most of them were staring at him in astonishment
(fear?) the rest were calling attention to him and staring.
"You should have known better than to grab me you idiot. I didnt get the
cash for a plasma rifle by using my looks."
Looking at the redheaded woman on his left he had to agree with her. Her
face was far too angular, with a nose far too long. However with a bit of
surgery she might be somewhat passable.
"I'll agree with you on that score, if you've always been like that.."
His words were cut off as the woman pushed her way through the crowd and
left. A man, with a weeks growth of beard, walked up to him and calmly
stated "For a savior you sure are an asshole!"
"Savior? What the hell are you talking about?" He asked.
"Before we left Luna Base, we were told in advance that our ship was to
be hijacked someplace en-route. But we were also told that we would be
saved by a warrior whose mission was far more important than anything we
could ever imagine. This is a picture of the warrior, kept in the computer
banks of the Th'Galam since before liftoff." the man explained, as another
man and a woman rolled a viewscreen into position. The viewscreen lit up
with a picture of a dark blob on a hill, that panned around
three-hundred-sixty degrees, circling around the object of the camera's
eye. Zooming in at eye level the dark blob began to take shape. A large
robe covered the lean muscular frame of a man. Clean shaven, the man wore a
band around his eyes, blocking out any view of his features. After a few
moments of watching this outline, a blast of light engulfed the screen. The
shape, now clearly defined as a man was apparent.
It was him.
Speechless, the wanderer sat back down on the edge of the table his torn
shackles were previously attached to.
"We were told you would be unaware of your destiny, but we never thought
you would be.. this." the speaker continued, drooping his head in
surrender. "We thought something more noble, more..."
"Heroic?" the wanderer finished. "Well, sorry to dissappoint you, but I
am what I am, a semi-crazy hacker from nineties Earth, and I'm about as
heroic as a Kamikaze pilot in World War Two. I'm here for a job. And I'm
going to do it. Now how do I get out of here?"
As he stood and prepared to fight his way to the exit, he paused. Glancing
to his left, he saw a man begin to cry. Scanning around the crowd he saw a
large number of people all doing the same. A hand on his shoulder brought
his attention to a woman whose glare penetrated like fire.
"Dammit you concieted asshole! We're here to help YOU!" she
said, fighting back anger.
II
From the cargo deck of the captured Raden-II the plan for escape began.
With the one Armor-Suit among the seventy-five hundred or so prisoners in
the crowded hold, only one person had been able to cycle out the airlock to
enter the city of Gharek. The grounded bulk of the Raden-II was parked only
meters from one of hundreds of access panels surrounding Gharek. It was
through one of these panels that Sikan-Deh, the leader of the resisting
forces had slipped, avoiding detection by her captors. Once inside he had
found the Phonit+, A well known bar. The Phonit+ had been known not for
it's great food or drink, but for the great variety of mercenaries and
thieves available for hire. But the biggest difference between the Phonit+
and the countless other such bars was the ceiling mounted Auto - Turret that
almost instantly vaporized anyone who made a hostile move.
Sikan-Deh had taken advantage of a somewhat criminal past to encourage a man
to attack her. As the man had raised his weapon the Turret had cut a large
hole through him. Her hands suddenly became full of wallet. After dropping the
amount of money required to get a clone on the corpse, the laws of Gharek
were that corpses with possession or money must be cloned if funds allowed.
For this reason a large percentage of the population had the amount needed for
cloning hidden in secret cavities on thier body or in thier clothing.
After hastily exiting the Phonit+ she had purchased a Support Sack and a
recharge for the old collectable Plasma Rifle she had hidden in stores.
So, then, Armed with an Armor Suit and Plasma Rifle she had gone to seek the
one that could help them all. On her way to the third level, she had seen
Riake, one of the crewman already chosen to be sold running against the flow
of the escalator. The shock of seeing Riake fleeing from thier captors was
almost overshadowed by the sight of the Savior. With Riake in front of
her and the Savior behind there was a lot of choice to be made, But while
she uncharacteristically tried to make a choice between confronting the two,
all hell had broken loose.
And now this. The Savior turning out to be an arrogant kid with a lot of
firepower and apparently no control over it. To top that, the expense of a
Support Sack turning out to be useless. The Savior had just spoken of his
ability to survive is any environment in his current attire. And to prove it
he had cycled himself through the airlock and performing some amazing feats
of acrobatics. One of which had been quite amazing. A twelve foot upward leap
in this gravity was unheard of. In null-gee the Savior might be invincible.
After he returned inside he explained his thoughts for an escape plan.
"Hmm. How's this, Sicken and I go in and raid level three, freeing enough
equipment for the rest of you to equip up. While we raid three, you send a
few that know what to do to sabotage the life support at the WECON control
dome. I'll upload the specifics to Sick's suit, and she can fill you in. But
for now I gotta go inside and get the equipment the sabo team will need."
"Wait," interrupted Sikan-Deh, "If a team takes out the WECON station, how
can the rest of us survive in the dome?"
"Simple, those domes each have substations that can handle the full load.
but the main reason the the raid is that it will clear out a lot of the guard
power from levels one through three, where We'll take control. After we seal
off the first three levels of the marketplace, we'll let you all in through
this lock. Given an hour or so, I'm certain we'll have enough of you ready to
raid the upper two levels. Casualties.. Well I have no idea how good you all
are. So casualties might be pretty high. I dont really have too much time for
this mission, I'd really like to get out of here."
"Great, you come to save us, but we plan to go with you after this 'mission'
is over. And you plan to leave? What is really going to happen huh?" Sikan-Deh
asked, the anger in her beginning to show.
"Look, I've had enough of this 'we're here to serve' crap. It's really
starting to bother me. OK?!" the Wanderer angrily exclaimed. "I've never had
anyone to help me out before, just my R-Prime support staff. Yes, I said staff
I'm not a simple trader out here, who stumbled into this, nor am I just
an unemployed soldier fighting for what's right. I'm a person from four
hundred years ago in a totally different frame of reality... God, that sounds
strange." The Wanderer suddenly sat down on a nearby bench and rested his head
in his hands. "I dont mean to shatter your hopes or anything, I'm going to get
you all out of this mess. Just leave me out of whatever your future plans are.
is that so hard to do?"
"We will be going with you." Said a man from the crowd, and with that the
conversation ended.
The purchasing trip yielded a large amount of supplies, even another Plasma
Rifle. This had been offered to the Wanderer but he had stated his pistol as
being actually superior to the larger, slower rifle. Also, when he was asked
if his jacket would slow him in combat, the response was similar. Better
defensive power than the thick, heavy kevlar. Anyhow, he remarked. Nothing
that these people could throw at him could really kill. As he left the Raden
for the first stage of takeover he did however stop to comfort a child in pain
from a sprained ankle. Cycled out into the waste with the cold sands whirling
about him, but never touching him was a sight that many of the Radenites still
recall as almost holy.
Four weeks afterward, as the Raden-II's compliment, and the
Wanderer traveled through space. He thought.. perhaps there IS
some good I can do...
And then, the Wave hit..
Date: Mon, 4 Apr 1994 05:37:11 EDT
From: <IO20902@MAINE.MAINE.EDU>
Subject: The Wanderer: Section One (Ongoing Work)
Shadez of Gray
The wandering one stood atop the mound of dirt that was the only feature
of the land for an eternity of miles. Clad in tan Dockers and a Branded
Lion overcoat, the twenty year old youth (or man?) looked at the glowing
blank skies. After a few moments of this, he removed the red frame Backpack
from his shoulders and placed at at his side. Digging through his pockets,
he removed a variety of items. A two hundred year old American Dollar, a
watch from three hundred years in the future, a current issue of The
Galactic Reference, assorted money from twelve worlds, and a large laser
scoped plasma pistol from Xamathus IV four centuries in the future.
Sitting down, he placed the pistol at his side and removed his Heavy
jacket, rolling it to make a comfortable headrest. lying down, he slid the
left sleeve of his black-and-white sweater up, to his elbow. Passing his
right hand over the skin of his left forearm, the Textugraphic flesh
dissappeared, and the reality of cybernetic limbs was revealed. A large
color graphic display was wired into the arm, appearing to grow from the
organized mass of toothpick sized hydraulics. On this display screen were
the words:
-< TECHNICAL SUPPORT SYSTEMS: UNIT NUMBER JJDS3958 >-< CHRONO:1/2/5.34 >-
Unit Fully Functional
1 week, 2 days, 5 Hours and Thirty Four Minutes was duration of last
mission.
Next Mission Location: Antragg-Viod I (Population: Humanoid)
Planetary Conditions: (Exterior) -2 degrees celsius winds of 124KPH
average. Planetary rotation: 4.6 Standard Days (Interior) temperature
9 degrees celsius in main passageways, winds of .2-1.5KPH variably to
WECON (Weather Control) requirements. Length of Day: 1 Standard Day
Brief Summary: Founded in the Days Of Expansion (RUPE=64) Antragg-Viod
One is based on the Cybernetic Survival Precepts. (He with the best
enhancements, lives.) Being a notorious domed city, Gharek (The
Capital) has a reputation for drug traffiking and weapons design and
sales. The epitomy of typical 1990's Earth "Cyberpunk" fiction, this
world has a superbly defended main marketplace and a well trained,
enhanced force of guards.
Mission: Simply defined. Disrupt drug trafficking, and destroy the
weapons market. For recall, use the wristlink to signal the Wave.
The wanderer pondered his mission and the background and smiled. This was
his kind of job. Even odds, he supposed, would make it interesting. He lay
down to rest in the short interval he had earned.
Another day dawned in the artificial world of Gharek. all along the five
tiered plaza of merchants. Sellers and buyers alike set up thier stalls of
goods. Trading everything from fruit to slaves and guns, merchants readied
for the rush of offworld traders and slavers. Guards cleaned and checked
thier automatic weapons diligently. An average of twenty people a day
attempted to steal from or shut down the market. None succeded... Many
Died, or were killed... Depending on whom you spoke with reactions to the
many deaths were varied. Enhanced cyborgs strolled through the electronic
stalls looking for the all important upgrades that would allow them to
command a higher fee for thier services, whatever they were. The beings
that strolled the plaza were invariably humanoid in heritage, for being an
alien in this place was an invitation to death. the lower tier, the common
market was lightly guarded by relatively relaxed guards, but the other
levels had protection ranging from benign to hostile. On Tier One, Legal
and morally safe products were sold, Vegetables, Fruit, Household
Utilities. On Tier two, other things were sold, Meat, computers, basic
cybernetic enhancements. On Three, more complex items were sold, with
somewhat risky backgrounds. Most items here were stolen. Level Four, was
the main underground Cybernetics market. Almost anything could be done
here. at a possible risk to the client. Level five, the "fortress" level
was the place people really came for. Here were the flesh markets, bordellos
and weapons dealers. As well as the ever popular Druglabs. An hour after
the market opened, a quarter of a million people swarmed around the huge
complex. Among them was the wanderer.
The wanderer had very little question as to how he would handle the
situation. Blending in with the crowd was easy. making his way through it
was not. after a few minutes of slipping past the crowds, he arrived at a
fruit peddler on the first tier.
"What would you like, sir?" the thin trader asked. "I have delicacies from
six different worlds! Mandagos from Kahfa perhaps? Moundew Melon from
Fraht?" He pointed at the fruits arrayed behind him. Quickly scanning the
price list, as the wanderer adjusted his dark sunglasses he noticed that he
had been shown the two most expensive items.
"Give me a couple apples, and I'll try a Moundew I suppose."
"Very good selections. How do you wish to pay?" asked the trader, having
lost a bit of his enthusiasm, after noticing the large pistol strapped to
the waist of his customer.
"Here," said the wanderer, removing his GalCred card from his pocket, "Put
it on this. I'm sure the card is good."
The trader placed the card in the testing slot and gasped at the enourmous
limit on the card. With that much money this customer could buy the whole
planet of Fraht. "Just a moment, sir.. Let me doublecheck the machine." the
thin trader pressed a small orange button on the card tester and a few
seconds later passed the card back to the traveler.
"Alright, your card has checked out. Here is your purchase.. Have a nice
cycle." the trader bowed as he completed the transaction.
"You too." replied the anderer.
The wanderer placed the apples in his overcoat, and unbuttoned the front,
revealing the combat vest beneath. Removing a large multi-blade from the
inner pocket he flipped out the laser cutter and deftly sliced the Moundew
in half. Sliding the blade back into the knife he then flipped out a spoon
from the side of the compact tool and swiftly carved out the greenish pulp
of the Melon. Flipping the half circle of fruit into the air he stepped
forward and caught it in his mouth, simply swiping it from midair and
missing none of the juices that accompanied it's flight. Not caring greatly
for the taste he tossed the uneaten portion in a wastebasket a few yards
away. Making his way through the crowd, he noticed a small commotion at the
other end of the well-lit plaza. Peering over the heads of the other
shoppers was simple, the average height of the inhabitants of Antragg-Viod
was just over a meter and a half whilst he stood a full two meters or so.
His view was rarely blocked by the other traders in this area. A few had
the "Long-n-Lean" look of the spaceborn, stooping somewhat under the heavy
gravity of the large planet. As one who had grown up at 1-G his frame was
lightly affected. This world had a 1.5-G rating, but he was perfectly
comfortable, having just left a 2.1-G mission. He welcomed the relief.
Ahead of him, a man who must have been A full two and a half meters tall
coped gallantly with the gravity, pressing his broad bald bulk through the
crowd. The large man turned at a junction and headed towards the space
docks, a section having little to do with the mission at hand. A man, clad
in a blue Kevlar suit (of Old Earth manufacture) bounced off the wanderer
and apologized profusely. The wanderer glanced at the man and glared at him
for a moment. A moment was all it took to startle the man into slipping his
hand just about a millimeter into sight. His hand held the wanderers
wallet. He turned and began sprinting through the crowd. A split second
after the man ran, the wanderer bolted forward in pursuit. The crowd
suddenly parted before the fleeing man and his pursuer, they knew well the
dangers of this kind of race. In front of the fleeing man two other men
clad in the same Kevlar Suits stepped into view and reaching for thier
sidearms took visual bearings on the wanderer. The Wanderer thought quickly.
Two, possibly three men with guns of unknown strength, unknown accuracy
but professional appearance. Not good. Best possible move? Offense.
The wanderer dropped to the ground at a full run, sliding forward on his
chest at high speed. But even as he had dropped his weapon was in his
hands. A green outline of a circle appeared on the lower back of the
runner. The long barreled black and gold pistol beeped to indicate a lethal
charge, and he fired.. The explosive pulse of plasma leapt from the barrel
and immolated the lower torso of the man in blue fire. The men ahead of him
immediately leveled thier weapons at the fallen man and fired at the
corpse, spraying the burning body with hot projectiles, rendering it a mid
sized pile of fleshy chunks. The high pitched whine of the Gauss Pistol
energy generators died out as the magnetic pulses ceased. The wanderer
quickly scanned his immediate vicinity and saw that the only threat was the
men in Blue Kevlar. Turning to fire, he saw that the men had dissappeared
from sight, leaving nothing but a ripple in the crowd. Getting to his feet
was harder than expected, due to the increased gravity.
Gravity was not the major problem for the wanderer. His real problem was
visibility. About three hundred people had seen him kill a man. He didnt
enjoy killing with such little provocation as this. He walked over to the
corpse, searching for possible foes the entire time. When he reached the
pool of blood, the crowd had resumed some semblance of order. Only the
immediate vicinity, about six feet around, was empty. Bending over to
inspect the remains, he scooped up a bit of the mans uniform and examined
it. Blue fabric, with a patch on it, the patch had the design of a large
starship. The starship had lettering emblazoned on it, "Th'Galam:Integrity"
A red border surrounded the greenish-yellow patch. This man may have been a
crewman on that ship, he surmised. Searching the man for any other
identifiying objects, the search revealed a large amount of money in the
local currency, the Kilreag. Liberating the money from the corpse was
simple, no resistance. He was supposed to stop the weapons dealing and drug
trafficking, but there was no problem with his making a few bucks on the
side. Moving the pile of bloody flesh over a bit, he plucked the remains of
his own wallet from the mess. Noticing a burn mark on the faded Foldsteel
case he brushed it with his hand to wipe it off. The mark faded from view
as easily as if it were sand. Placing the wallet back in his pocket, he
turned and walked off toward the escalators to the second level.
Delashia had been picked up during a raid on the colony ships headed
towards the terraformed world of Grabna. Of the thirty thousand people that
had left Earth's moon, ten thousand had been killed when the attack had cut
off thier cryos. She had been aboard the Raden-II, the lead ship of the
fleet. Her cryo chamber was unharmed by the attackers. No damage had come
to the Raden. Having been awakened only two standards ago, she was
unharmed. Looking around her she saw four other women, still clad in the
blue skinsuits they had all worn in the cryo chambers. The walls of the
room they were in were mirrored, likely allowing one-way vision from the
outside. As she searched the blank walls for a means of escape, like she
had for days, the lights, which were quite bright, suddenly went dark. her
last conscious thought was, where was that sliding noise come from?
The wanderer slowly exited the escalator, surveying his new surroundings.
The second level was much like the first, except for the long glassed in
oval in the center. The oval looked like the inner circle of an oblong
doughnut, allowing a view down into the stalls on the first level. The
second floor was much more orderly than the lower level. The level was
built like an oval racetrack, with "lanes" seperated for clockwise and
counter-clockwise walking. At this end of the oval, were the banks of
escalators,elevators and cargo lifts. Myriad stalls appeared to cover this
level in an orderly layout, however the odd few stood out, by having two or
more stalls covered by a heavy canvas or plastic tarpaulin, joining them as
one large shop. It was towards one of these that the wanderer saw a large
crowd gathering, disregarding the order of the lanes. The wanderer was not
interested in this small black market. His objective was a much larger
evil.. Walking over to the UP escalator he joined the small crowd heading
up to the more dangerous levels. Ahead of him on the escalator was a person
resplendent in a golden plated suit of reflecting armor. A large plasma
cannon was strapped to his back, the matte black finish standing out
against the yellowish glow. The Wanderer looked at the ground beneath him
move as he stepped onto the escalator again, the plated stair moved slowly
but continiously upward. Glancing behind him he noticed no disturbances in
the crowd. Ahead however, a man in a blue skinsuit ran downward, fighting
against the movement of the escalator and the people on it. Behind the man
were two men in black and silver. The black and silver uniforms of the
pursuers had a large lightning bolt imprinted in a crest on thier tinted
helmets. As the man in blue got nearer the wanderer could hear his voice
and the urgency of his tone.
"I won't go back there you bastards! Never! Help me get out of here,
someone! Please!"
The man then grabbed a woman in a mink coat and started pleading to her,
she responded by screaming at him in terror. By the time the wanderer
reached the terrified man, the men in black and silver were only five feet
behind him. The two men made a grab for the runner and missed. The man in
blue turned to the side and leapt over the railing, falling forty feet to
the ground below. The wanderer looked down at the fallen body and watched
it slowly begin to rise. The men, standing next to him stopped fighting for
position on the wide escalator and began to rise toward the top again.
Something about the blue suit the man was wearing seemed familiar. with
kevlar for material, the cut would still be the same.
"CBLD, Enhanced visual, magnification thirty." the wanderer spoke into his
jacket mounted microphone. As he finished the words, a small yellow box
appeared in the upper left of his field of vision. The box quickly filled
with a vision of the struggling man. As the man stood, he turned his chest
toward the wanderers vision. Quickly focusing on the right side of the
chest, he sighted on the emblem. Th'Galam:Integrity. This was definately an
unexpected turn of events. Vaulting over the railing, the wanderer gave a
short blast of antigrav before hitting the ground, keeping himself on his
feet. Uninjured he walked off in the direction the man in blue limped in.
Scanning the area for people in blue he almost missed hearing the thud of
a falling body behind him. Quickly turning, he saw the man in golden plate
leap to his feet and begin to pursue the fleeing man. Reaching out with his
right arm, he grabbed the golden soldier and restrained him, using only the
one hand to grasp the mans neck. A swift chop to the temple would normally
follow but the man in gold was too fast for him. Throwing a swift kick at
the Wanderer he knocked him off his feet and held a wrist mounted laserbow
to the Wanderers throat.
"Dont move, pal. Just dont move a muscle."
The Wanderer, sensing the possible problem forthcoming disagreed.
"Give me one reason why I shouldnt kill you right now?" the wanderer
sneered.
"Here's one," said a very female voice as he blacked out.
......SENSOR..RESET..COMMENCING......
....MAGNETIC..SCRAMBLER..DETECTED....
.............COMPENSATING............
"Feeling any better hotshot?" asked the voice behind his KO'ing. His eyes
were still adjusting to the flood of light to his long-unused irises.
"Better than when?" he said as he attempted to stand, only to find his
movement blocked by restraining straps. Fuck it. RRRRIIIIPPPP.. The straps
came loose as if they were cheap velcro. Standing up he scanned his local
area for people. He saw a lot of them.
He was standing in a room full of bedraggled men and women, all wearing
the blue of the runner. Most of them were staring at him in astonishment
(fear?) the rest were calling attention to him and staring.
"You should have known better than to grab me you idiot. I didnt get the
cash for a plasma rifle by using my looks."
Looking at the redheaded woman on his left he had to agree with her. Her
face was far too angular, with a nose far too long. However with a bit of
surgery she might be somewhat passable.
"I'll agree with you on that score, if you've always been like that.."
His words were cut off as the woman pushed her way through the crowd and
left. A man, with a weeks growth of beard, walked up to him and calmly
stated "For a savior you sure are an asshole!"
"Savior? What the hell are you talking about?" He asked.
"Before we left Luna Base, we were told in advance that our ship was to
be hijacked someplace en-route. But we were also told that we would be
saved by a warrior whose mission was far more important than anything we
could ever imagine. This is a picture of the warrior, kept in the computer
banks of the Th'Galam since before liftoff." the man explained, as another
man and a woman rolled a viewscreen into position. The viewscreen lit up
with a picture of a dark blob on a hill, that panned around
three-hundred-sixty degrees, circling around the object of the camera's
eye. Zooming in at eye level the dark blob began to take shape. A large
robe covered the lean muscular frame of a man. Clean shaven, the man wore a
band around his eyes, blocking out any view of his features. After a few
moments of watching this outline, a blast of light engulfed the screen. The
shape, now clearly defined as a man was apparent.
It was him.
Speechless, the wanderer sat back down on the edge of the table his torn
shackles were previously attached to.
"We were told you would be unaware of your destiny, but we never thought
you would be.. this." the speaker continued, drooping his head in
surrender. "We thought something more noble, more..."
"Heroic?" the wanderer finished. "Well, sorry to dissappoint you, but I
am what I am, a semi-crazy hacker from nineties Earth, and I'm about as
heroic as a Kamikaze pilot in World War Two. I'm here for a job. And I'm
going to do it. Now how do I get out of here?"
As he stood and prepared to fight his way to the exit, he paused. Glancing
to his left, he saw a man begin to cry. Scanning around the crowd he saw a
large number of people all doing the same. A hand on his shoulder brought
his attention to a woman whose glare penetrated like fire.
"Dammit you concieted asshole! We're here to help YOU!" she
said, fighting back anger.
II
From the cargo deck of the captured Raden-II the plan for escape began.
With the one Armor-Suit among the seventy-five hundred or so prisoners in
the crowded hold, only one person had been able to cycle out the airlock to
enter the city of Gharek. The grounded bulk of the Raden-II was parked only
meters from one of hundreds of access panels surrounding Gharek. It was
through one of these panels that Sikan-Deh, the leader of the resisting
forces had slipped, avoiding detection by her captors. Once inside he had
found the Phonit+, A well known bar. The Phonit+ had been known not for
it's great food or drink, but for the great variety of mercenaries and
thieves available for hire. But the biggest difference between the Phonit+
and the countless other such bars was the ceiling mounted Auto - Turret that
almost instantly vaporized anyone who made a hostile move.
Sikan-Deh had taken advantage of a somewhat criminal past to encourage a man
to attack her. As the man had raised his weapon the Turret had cut a large
hole through him. Her hands suddenly became full of wallet. After dropping the
amount of money required to get a clone on the corpse, the laws of Gharek
were that corpses with possession or money must be cloned if funds allowed.
For this reason a large percentage of the population had the amount needed for
cloning hidden in secret cavities on thier body or in thier clothing.
After hastily exiting the Phonit+ she had purchased a Support Sack and a
recharge for the old collectable Plasma Rifle she had hidden in stores.
So, then, Armed with an Armor Suit and Plasma Rifle she had gone to seek the
one that could help them all. On her way to the third level, she had seen
Riake, one of the crewman already chosen to be sold running against the flow
of the escalator. The shock of seeing Riake fleeing from thier captors was
almost overshadowed by the sight of the Savior. With Riake in front of
her and the Savior behind there was a lot of choice to be made, But while
she uncharacteristically tried to make a choice between confronting the two,
all hell had broken loose.
And now this. The Savior turning out to be an arrogant kid with a lot of
firepower and apparently no control over it. To top that, the expense of a
Support Sack turning out to be useless. The Savior had just spoken of his
ability to survive is any environment in his current attire. And to prove it
he had cycled himself through the airlock and performing some amazing feats
of acrobatics. One of which had been quite amazing. A twelve foot upward leap
in this gravity was unheard of. In null-gee the Savior might be invincible.
After he returned inside he explained his thoughts for an escape plan.
"Hmm. How's this, Sicken and I go in and raid level three, freeing enough
equipment for the rest of you to equip up. While we raid three, you send a
few that know what to do to sabotage the life support at the WECON control
dome. I'll upload the specifics to Sick's suit, and she can fill you in. But
for now I gotta go inside and get the equipment the sabo team will need."
"Wait," interrupted Sikan-Deh, "If a team takes out the WECON station, how
can the rest of us survive in the dome?"
"Simple, those domes each have substations that can handle the full load.
but the main reason the the raid is that it will clear out a lot of the guard
power from levels one through three, where We'll take control. After we seal
off the first three levels of the marketplace, we'll let you all in through
this lock. Given an hour or so, I'm certain we'll have enough of you ready to
raid the upper two levels. Casualties.. Well I have no idea how good you all
are. So casualties might be pretty high. I dont really have too much time for
this mission, I'd really like to get out of here."
"Great, you come to save us, but we plan to go with you after this 'mission'
is over. And you plan to leave? What is really going to happen huh?" Sikan-Deh
asked, the anger in her beginning to show.
"Look, I've had enough of this 'we're here to serve' crap. It's really
starting to bother me. OK?!" the Wanderer angrily exclaimed. "I've never had
anyone to help me out before, just my R-Prime support staff. Yes, I said staff
I'm not a simple trader out here, who stumbled into this, nor am I just
an unemployed soldier fighting for what's right. I'm a person from four
hundred years ago in a totally different frame of reality... God, that sounds
strange." The Wanderer suddenly sat down on a nearby bench and rested his head
in his hands. "I dont mean to shatter your hopes or anything, I'm going to get
you all out of this mess. Just leave me out of whatever your future plans are.
is that so hard to do?"
"We will be going with you." Said a man from the crowd, and with that the
conversation ended.
The purchasing trip yielded a large amount of supplies, even another Plasma
Rifle. This had been offered to the Wanderer but he had stated his pistol as
being actually superior to the larger, slower rifle. Also, when he was asked
if his jacket would slow him in combat, the response was similar. Better
defensive power than the thick, heavy kevlar. Anyhow, he remarked. Nothing
that these people could throw at him could really kill. As he left the Raden
for the first stage of takeover he did however stop to comfort a child in pain
from a sprained ankle. Cycled out into the waste with the cold sands whirling
about him, but never touching him was a sight that many of the Radenites still
recall as almost holy.
Four weeks afterward, as the Raden-II's compliment, and the
Wanderer traveled through space. He thought.. perhaps there IS
some good I can do...
And then, the Wave hit..
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: This work of fiction is a copyrighted creation of the mind
of the Author, Joshua G. Johnston. Feel free to distribute, or use in any non
commercial hardcopy publication as you wish. Please send comments and ideas
to io20902@maine.edu. All characters, places, and events in this story are
fictional and not based on any real person, living or dead. Any similarities
are coincidental, and on the whole, quite remarkable. If you wish tosee some
of your own ideas/characters integrated into this storyline someplace, please
EMail for information.
Date: Mon, 4 Apr 1994 05:41:50 EDT
From: <IO20902@MAINE.MAINE.EDU>
Subject: The Wanderer: Section Two (New!) (Ongoing Story)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All characters in this story are fictional, created by the
author for his own amusement. All financial rights are reserved, this file
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but please let me know about what you think of it. Song lyrics in the starts
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--== Shadez of Gray
--== The files of the Grey Wanderer
--== by
--== Joshua G. Johnston
--== 3/23/94
------========
-----===
----===
---=== "My trusty sense of honor, just a shield of rusty wire..."
--===
-========== H A P T E R O N E
The Wanderer glanced around the station where the Wanderer had left the
Raden-II's compliment to await his return. Nosy jackers, he thought of them
all. Based on some three-generation dead exploration sent looking for him
they had taken him on as some sort of savior. They might have been the
first generation aboard the Raden, but they certainly weren't the only ones
claiming the title of Radenites. After fifty years of waiting on a planet
someplace for him, they'd launched two ships to find him. The first had
been lost, he had been told, and that was all they'd say about it.
They'd refused to tell him why they wanted to find him, and then refused
to tell him what thier plans were beyond 'We're here to help you'. That
line was getting old. He worked alone.
The station began to dwindle out of sight as the Wanderer kicked in a
bit more thrust to the main engines of the shuttle Aries, stolen from the
Raden's recently repaired escape bays. He had to get out of there, that
just wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to get hit by the Shunt and get a
new blasted mission. Tapping in the sequence for the Wave on his left
forearm interface, he clicked the shuttle's shields on quickly with his left
hand. Shunting by remote could tear ships to shreds.
Sikan-Deh looked at the security console of the Raden-II and glared at
her screen as the blast of energy signaling a Wavefronted Shunt drive's
ignition. As the shuttle was hit by the Wave of energy, it was transported
into a certain heading, and transmuted into dark matter at the same time.
Somehow, this mix of high normal speeds, and the still uncertain dark matter
gave any craft that used it FTL travel. Damned powerful, and not yet to be
built for another century. Sikan knew this, as her expedition had been sent
from approximately two hundred years in the future, and the Raden had the
power to Shunt. Hiding this from the Wanderer had been no easy task. His
design was so damned good that he'd scanned the ship into his memory systems
within a day, schematics and all. Even if he didn't know how to access this
power, he had it, and if he figured it out, he'd be even MORE impossible to
restrain.
"Jameson, set course for Proxima Centauri. Grey's gone there, let's give
him a day lead so we'll take this trip in normal space for a while. Don't
want him to know we can trace him yet. He thinks he's on just another
mission now." Sikan said, relaxing in her seat a little at a time.
Damned fool, she thought. There's no R-Prime staff anymore, we don't
KNOW what's guiding you through these fucking things anymore.
The Wanderer reclined in his seat as the instant travel of Shunt brought
him to the Proxima Centauri system, glancing at his onboards for the details
of his assignment and location. This time, he had no IDEA where the hell
he was, before he got there.
-< TECHNICAL SUPPORT SYSTEMS: UNIT NUMBER JJDS3958 >-< CHRONO: N/App >-
Unit Fully Functional
Last mission data not available, new mission follows.
Mission two-twenty-nine, Proxima Centauri. Five people have vanished
from the station around Proxima Alpha within the past two days. The
only notable about the situation is that four of the people were of
the ruling government of the system. Planet is Earthlike, climate and
other factors are nominal. Try and find out about the abductions by
following another member of the ruling congress. Name: Rax Illien.
Illien will be abducted approximately sixteen hours from your arrival.
What the hell.. This wasn't a mission sheet, it was more like a written
order like the military goons would dish out. But as far as he knew, he
wasn't of the military.. He was from.. wherever it was isn't relevant. He
had a job to do, stop these abductions and bring the bad guys to justice.
Someplace in his mind, something clicked endlessly as it began to wonder
just where he DID call home.. Someplace, deep inside, he knew where.
R-Prime, it was told. But it never listened.
His subconscious clicked onwards 'Where am I from? Where am I from?'..
------========
-----===
----===
---=== "I hold against the chaos, and the cross of holy fire..."
--===
-========== H A P T E R T W O
At the security console of Proxima station, there was a slightly dazed
young man in his late teens looking at the screen.
"Sir, I ask again, what is your ships registry and port of origin? We
don't have a Raden-II anyplace on our records."
"I don't know the port of origin, it's a derelict shuttle I just picked
up." came a crackly voice from the other end of the comm.
"We'll send an escort out immediately." the young man replied to the as
yet unvisualized man on the other end of the set.
"No, no escorts, for the tenth fucking time no escorts. I don't need
some damned jumpjock hanging off my port telling me how to fly."
"Sir, it's system policy to escort all derelict vessels in to dock,
you'll just have to..."
"Fuck it." was said on the other end of the set, and suddenly a large
energy flare appeared where the Aries had suddenly exploded, and the voice,
a bit less clear this time shouted,"I'll come in without the damned ship!"
then fell silent.
The Wanderer was pretty pissed off. In fact, he'd BEEN pissed off for
years, so it seemed. People kept getting in his way on missions, didn't
they just know all he wanted was to leave them, maybe be given a small bit
of time on a planet all to himself someplace, _away_ from people. Far away
from them all. He'd pulled a suspension bubble out of the storage on the
Aries, and clambered into it before setting the self-destruct and ejecting
the bubble into space, towards the planet. The bubble would certainly turn
to shreds on re-entry, but he could take the heat. And if he saved his
energy for air and that last blast of calculated antigrav to avoid the big
splat, he knew he could survive the fall. It seemed that he'd always known
how to do this, but just couldn't remember where he was taught. No matter,
he knew that R-Prime had something to do with it, and they all did things
right. No problems.
As he spiraled down towards the planet's surface in naught but his usual
clothing and overcoat, he gripped his plasma pistol and mimicked shooting
the birds that would occasionally be plummeting upwards. This seemed to be
one hell of a head rush.. and I'd better hit those brakes now, he thought.
Instants before the Wanderer impacted with the ground, a well-timed blast
of antigravity stopped his descent just as he extended his feet to touch the
ground. Grumbling, he disabled the antigravity and slumped to the ground,
resting against a nearby bluish-green tree. As he deactivated the nul-heat
shielding that had been tapping his energy since beginning the fall without
the use of the bubble, the energy reserves on his cybernetics began slowly
to rise from the near dangerous fifteen percent they had rapidly drained
down to. After a perfunctory scan of the area, he decided to drift off
for a few hours nap.
Three hours later he was awakened by a subconcious ping in his mind, a
quiet alerting to the presence of another life-form nearby. Gathering up
his coat, he stood, gripping the plasma pistol in his left hand as he kept
a steady watch in the direction of the ping's origin. After a few moments,
he heard a low growl as the threat stepped into view from behind a low bush.
A large tigroid female stalked her way out of the brush, clicking her
six inch claws on the rock plateau the Wanderer and the tree he'd slept
under were atop, growling low to herself as she hungrily observed her prey.
The Wanderer checked his energy reserves, and noticed that the pistol would
be a very inappropriate weapon to use at this point. His reserves were low,
but enough for less oblititory measures. Quick-holstering his sidearm, he
flicked from his left wrist a light blade, which ignited to it's three foot
length quite rapidly. The tigroid stepped back a few paces at the sight of
the prey's weapon, and she let out a soft roar in displeasure. The Wanderer
just stood there, holding the blade out before himself steadily.
The tigroid faked a lunge to the left, but far too fast for The Wanderer
to catch, as she instead lunged to the right, claws extended and mouth a
gaping maw of teeth and small fangs. Wanderer ducked to the left, and hit
the ground in a self-defensive posture, taking a blocking swipe at the now
turning beast. As the tigroid lunged out with a single paw to claw the
Wanderer's face, he flashed out with the blade, lopping the paw off in a
cauterized slash. Growling the beast lunged again, this time without even
attempting a fake, the pain driving it to a frenzy. The Wanderer had been
expecting this, and slashed back with his blade, but just barely making a
contact, and slicing the beast in the left flank. The tigroid's luck was
much better, and her remaining front paw lashed out at the Wanderer's head,
slamming him to the ground and shredding the left front of his face, the
pink skin coming bloodlessly away from the plasteel-chromium beneath, the
glaring blue eye sensors of his left optical system revealed as thier true
forms. Flickering at ten times per second, the light pulsed as the next
slash of the blade decapitated the tigroid lioness, the lifeless and now
headless corpse slamming to the ground with a heavy thud.
------========
-----===
----=== "Where would you rather be..? Anywhere, anywhere but here.."
---===
--===
-========== H A P T E R T H R E E
Reaching upwards, after the disposal of the carcass, the Wanderer felt
the remnants of his face. A slow trickle of blood ran along it, the hard
coldness of steel contrasting sharply with the warm blood flow. What is
this? He thought. This isn't my face, this can't be right..
His thoughts were none pleased by the next realization to cross his
usually duty-filled mind.
This isn't me.. I'm not a machine, I'm.. human. But.. who?
He slumped against the tree again, mystified. The cybernetics in his
face were.. unknown before this happened. He'd never been hurt there, and
had always known that his body was augmented somehow, but never to that
extent. And he'd never seen any evidence of that, he'd just known it.
Someplace, he reasoned, someplace I know where I'm from, who I am and
why I'm here. But right now all I know is my duty, and that I look like a
freak. I'll cope with my self-being later..
This weak self-assurance helped slightly, but not perfectly as the sense
that more than one thing was wrong with all this persisted in the very deep
recesses of his own mind. However, it was enough. After a few more minutes
of thought, he stood, hoped his facial cybernetics could be reasoned away or
covered by the time he got to civilization, and began walking towards the
nearest energy source, a few miles distant.
[(Internal Chronometer: 03:34:00.03 Elapsed)]
[(Power Percentage: 45%)] [(Uplinks: ONLINE / Downlinks: ONLINE)]
[(Ammunition Count: 12r)] [(Condition: Nominal)] [(Status: GRAY)]
[(Damage report ----------------------------------------------------------)]
[( )]
[( Head: 92% (Facial Structure Intact, Facial Masking Negated, Left) )]
[( All other systems intact )]
[( )]
[(------------------------------------------------------------------------)]
He trudged onwards towards the energy source, the glow on his sensors
slowly breaking into many smaller glows as the definitions of the city were
more defined, the glows becoming so numerous, he was forced to deactivate
the sensor. On the outskirts of the city, a number of stalled and dead
vehicles rested and rusted, the reddening hulks slumped on long deflated
hovercraft skirts, and many with the skirts even melted away, or stolen.
It was from one of the larger hover-wrecks from which he heard a quiet
muttering, much like that of a madman consoling himself about the reason for
his particular insanity. A few steps closer proved this to be a just way
of thinking, as a man popped up from a porthole and called out to him.
"Hey, mister? Got a barium decelerator? Oh, you don't look like ya got
nothin', cept a BIIIIG hole in yer face! What ARE you anyhow, some kinda
cy-pee freak? Bloody slashers, think they can control it all with a plug and
a cathode set!" blurted out in the quick ramble of an honest professional
madman, this was.
At the mention of slashing, the Wanderer thought as yet another doubt
clicked to his awareness. I was a slasher, he thought. A long time ago,
and I was known as.. Tell.. Tellar.. something.
But the moment passed, and he responded:
"I'm looking to Rax Illien. Where can I find him?"
"Oooh, ooh, ooh!" shouted the madman,"Could be I'm getting to know some..
thing that needs a guide in the big city, huh? Yeperies, I think I do!"
"You just show old Rufus Weidmeyer what you've got 'in them there
pocketses' as the old storybook goes!"
The Wanderer, expecting this, pulled out the small golden credit card
he'd been using for years.
"You take plastic? I bet not." he said, before sliding it back into his
pocket, face expressionless as he awaited a disgusted response from Rufus.
"Actually.." the man puttered,"I do. But FIRST I show you the money-box,
got it?" As he said this, he seemed a lot more intelligent than mad, and
even seemed to have a minor glow of sanity come about him.
"We've got a deal." Wanderer said, brushing his out of place hair back
with his left hand,"Lead on."
--== End installment Two, more to come. ==--
Joshua G. Johnston
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