“Hey, kids, we’re home,” Jazz announced, more to himself than to anyone else. It felt sort of homey seeing everyone that way. The others stirred reluctantly. Kate pulled herself from the tangle of arms and legs. Skull boy groaned and turned over in the hammock. Buzz was content with a moment’s peace and quiet. Kate pulled underwear from the crack of her ass and came up behind Jazz. She looked out at the growing moon before them. It filled the ship with a heavenly golden light. She ran her hands across Jasper’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
“Sleep well?” he asked.
“Died,” she said with a groan and stretched out her sore back. In fact her whole body had taken one hell of a beating, and she was feeling it now.
“Miss anything?”
“Naw,” he replied. “Pretty smooth. You guys were sacked out.”
“First real sleep in some time.”
“Wanna wake ‘em?”
“Naw. Let ‘em go.”
Jazz nodded and smiled to himself. “Gotta say, it’s kind of nice, havin’ a full house, so to speak.”
Kate looked back and mused, almost lamented. “About the closest we ever had to a real family.”
There was more traffic now. Freighters and supply ships came and went from the huge methane harvesters floating among Jupiter’s tumultuous cloud layers. They were closer to Europa than to the great gas giant, but still it dominated the view with it’s terrific size. They were already passing around to the dark side of the planet. Stunning aurora patterns were replaced my monumental flashes of bright blue-white lightening. Jupiter never failed to amaze Jazz.
“What about the kid?” asked Kate..” Got no home, no parents anymore.”
“Shame,” he joked. “Well, reckon I’ll have to kill him then.”
Kate smacked the back of his head for such an awful remark. She didn’t let him see the smile on her face. After all, it was a jerk thing to say, but it was funny.
On one of the console screens was a small schematic of the solar system that showed their trajectory from Earth. The planets were completely out of scale of course, but where the Earth once was there was merely a number dots. A single disk, an orphaned moon, drifted among the debris of the world. Katy touched the screen as though she could feel them. The word left her lips like a sudden horrible realization.
“All those millions of souls,” she lamented, “snuffed out in an instant.”
Jazz hadn’t cared much for the place, and thought the end of that crap-heap of a planet was long overdue. He didn’t though sat it, knowing full well that Katy had left a part of herself there. He was a space kid, and never felt anything in particular for Earth, but for Kate it would always be home. For once he didn’t cram his foot in his mouth and suck hard on it.
“Sure sucks,” he said.
Katy frowned, though Jazz couldn’t see. It was a dumb remark, but she wouldn’t bust his chops over it. At least he was trying. In fact, except for remarks about her physical attributes and certain sexual talents over the years, it was one of the nicest things he’d ever said to her. She rubbed the back of his head.
“Yeah, Jazz, it sure does.”
Racing around the planet at close to 20,000 miles per hour jazz had to speed up a little to catch the icy little moon. Europa was a stark and inhospitable world, at least on the surface. Deep ridges cut across a broken landscape of frozen ice flows, scarred by craters being slowly reclaimed by Europa’s ever-changing surface. With the same face blasted continuously by Jupiter’s lethal radiation, all the portals through the Icy crust lay on the dark side of the moon. They were large steel and concrete tubes and channels cutting through miles of dust and pulverized space debris. Each opened into a subterranean ocean fifty miles deep. Clustered around each portal, like grapes on a dark and watery vine, were dozens of little colonies. It was the perfect place to hide.
Showing posts with label al qaeda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label al qaeda. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Angry Jasper: Thirty-two
Katy was in such a pissy mood. Buzz hated being around when she was that way. Not that she was afraid of her, though she had a tendency for smashing stuff when she was like this. Kate had never harmed a bolt on his head, but the threat was always there, as if she would lose complete control in a moment. It was just the tension that threatened to overloaded his circuits. Kate’s mood made it so much harder for his other functions to operate. He groaned, and could already feel the circuits falling off one by one in these jittery and illogical (human) sort of quirks and mistakes.
He might have easily blown her off. After all, he’d seen more than his share of Kate's emotional mine fields. This one was different though. Not anything specific he could necessarily put his alloy finger on. This was one was of a much darker character, like she was being trapped or blackmailed into something from which she could see no escape. Kate wasn’t the kind of gal who could be forced or cajoled into anything, and she wasn't the sort to hide her thoughts. Too often Buzz couldn't shut her up. Bur this time she was beyond silent. It was beyond brooding. It was, well...hopeless.
Kate walked right past him and sort of groaned as she sat heavily on the small bed in the corner. Eager to turn her mood somehow, Buzz pulled out a small vibrator. He affixed it to the top of his head and saddled up beside her with this dumb hey-baby-can-I satisfy-you sort of smirk. He tried to sell it with a wink, but the mechanical eyelid caught mid way and buzzed until he wacked his head and it rolled back into place. When she didn’t acknowledge him Buzz gave the vibrator a little rev, and sort of leaned over, trying to force her gaze. He revved the vibrator twice more quickly.
“Not in the mood, Buzz,” she sighed, glumly
“Just trying to help.” There were all this little hairs all over her clothes. Thomas’ no doubt, and it was kind of revolting, Buzz thought, imagining the creepy fellow all over her.
“You can’t.”
“What happened with Thomas?” he asked.
Buzz pulled the vibrator off and stowed it away. He sat beside her. She was staring into space. Kate let out a long, mournful groan.
“Things are really eff-ed-up, pal,” she said.
Buzz scoffed. “All hail queen of the obvious.”
She looked sharply at him. “I need to know all there is about Thomas.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“You do?” she replied, with the quality of a drowning soul.
“The guy creeps me out for some reason.”
She stood and paced the room, figuring. She turned suddenly. “I want you to find something on him.”
“Like what?” Buzz asked, indignant.
“I don’t know, anything.”
“The magic word would be nice,” he said.
“What?’
“Please, would be…”
She cut him off. “Just do it! You’re a damned robot. Do as you are told!”
Buzz was taken aback by the venom of her outburst. Sure, he was a robot, a cyber-being, a machine, but he still had feelings, for Pete’s sake. He didn’t have to take that kind of abuse.
“That’s right,” Buzz fired back, “a robot, not your damned slave, you cranky old skank.”
Kate raged to heaven. “Please, god, give me the strength to send this one back to the recycle heap!”
“If you wanted a machine that would jump whenever you wanted, cut two slots in my back and make he a toaster!”
“At least a toaster would do its friggin’ job!”
“That’s it!” Buzz exclaimed. He'd had enough and could feel his circuitry overheating. The mechanic after his last overhaul warned that he had a tendency towards high core pressure. Too much strain and he ran the risk of serious, and maybe even fatal flare out. “Don’t take this crap out on me. I thought we were friends, partners…”
Buzz saw immediately that he had gotten to her. Just in time too. He damn near busted a seam on that one. She turned towards the door and hung her head.
“I’m not gonna apologize,” she said quietly. She never apologized, at least not in so many words. “You, uh, you are the best partner I’ve ever had, at least out of the sack.”
“Well…”
“You know what I mean.”
She turned, her eyes pleading. “Buzz, I really need your help.”
“First of all, change clothes,” he suggested. “There’s hair all over you, and I just can’t look at it any longer.”
“Hair?” she exclaimed. Kate hadn’t noticed it before. “Buzz, that’s it. Let’s run a DNA test with his hair and run it against the rebel databases and see who it matches. All his ancestors might have bought it at Branson, but their DNA lives on in him.”
Buzz carefully lifted several strands from her clothing. He was more than curious too. Problem was, he had never actually run a DNA program before. Sure, the procedure was programmed into his hard drive, but that was different from actually performing it, and he told Kate as much.
“You have to try,” she urged. “And please do it fast.”
Time was running out, and both of them knew it, but in ways they could never have guessed. Time was running out for everyone, for the earth, the alliance and the Corporation. Little could Kate have guessed what fate still held in store for her, throwing her headlong into a fight that would determine the very existence of all mankind.
He might have easily blown her off. After all, he’d seen more than his share of Kate's emotional mine fields. This one was different though. Not anything specific he could necessarily put his alloy finger on. This was one was of a much darker character, like she was being trapped or blackmailed into something from which she could see no escape. Kate wasn’t the kind of gal who could be forced or cajoled into anything, and she wasn't the sort to hide her thoughts. Too often Buzz couldn't shut her up. Bur this time she was beyond silent. It was beyond brooding. It was, well...hopeless.
Kate walked right past him and sort of groaned as she sat heavily on the small bed in the corner. Eager to turn her mood somehow, Buzz pulled out a small vibrator. He affixed it to the top of his head and saddled up beside her with this dumb hey-baby-can-I satisfy-you sort of smirk. He tried to sell it with a wink, but the mechanical eyelid caught mid way and buzzed until he wacked his head and it rolled back into place. When she didn’t acknowledge him Buzz gave the vibrator a little rev, and sort of leaned over, trying to force her gaze. He revved the vibrator twice more quickly.
“Not in the mood, Buzz,” she sighed, glumly
“Just trying to help.” There were all this little hairs all over her clothes. Thomas’ no doubt, and it was kind of revolting, Buzz thought, imagining the creepy fellow all over her.
“You can’t.”
“What happened with Thomas?” he asked.
Buzz pulled the vibrator off and stowed it away. He sat beside her. She was staring into space. Kate let out a long, mournful groan.
“Things are really eff-ed-up, pal,” she said.
Buzz scoffed. “All hail queen of the obvious.”
She looked sharply at him. “I need to know all there is about Thomas.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“You do?” she replied, with the quality of a drowning soul.
“The guy creeps me out for some reason.”
She stood and paced the room, figuring. She turned suddenly. “I want you to find something on him.”
“Like what?” Buzz asked, indignant.
“I don’t know, anything.”
“The magic word would be nice,” he said.
“What?’
“Please, would be…”
She cut him off. “Just do it! You’re a damned robot. Do as you are told!”
Buzz was taken aback by the venom of her outburst. Sure, he was a robot, a cyber-being, a machine, but he still had feelings, for Pete’s sake. He didn’t have to take that kind of abuse.
“That’s right,” Buzz fired back, “a robot, not your damned slave, you cranky old skank.”
Kate raged to heaven. “Please, god, give me the strength to send this one back to the recycle heap!”
“If you wanted a machine that would jump whenever you wanted, cut two slots in my back and make he a toaster!”
“At least a toaster would do its friggin’ job!”
“That’s it!” Buzz exclaimed. He'd had enough and could feel his circuitry overheating. The mechanic after his last overhaul warned that he had a tendency towards high core pressure. Too much strain and he ran the risk of serious, and maybe even fatal flare out. “Don’t take this crap out on me. I thought we were friends, partners…”
Buzz saw immediately that he had gotten to her. Just in time too. He damn near busted a seam on that one. She turned towards the door and hung her head.
“I’m not gonna apologize,” she said quietly. She never apologized, at least not in so many words. “You, uh, you are the best partner I’ve ever had, at least out of the sack.”
“Well…”
“You know what I mean.”
She turned, her eyes pleading. “Buzz, I really need your help.”
“First of all, change clothes,” he suggested. “There’s hair all over you, and I just can’t look at it any longer.”
“Hair?” she exclaimed. Kate hadn’t noticed it before. “Buzz, that’s it. Let’s run a DNA test with his hair and run it against the rebel databases and see who it matches. All his ancestors might have bought it at Branson, but their DNA lives on in him.”
Buzz carefully lifted several strands from her clothing. He was more than curious too. Problem was, he had never actually run a DNA program before. Sure, the procedure was programmed into his hard drive, but that was different from actually performing it, and he told Kate as much.
“You have to try,” she urged. “And please do it fast.”
Time was running out, and both of them knew it, but in ways they could never have guessed. Time was running out for everyone, for the earth, the alliance and the Corporation. Little could Kate have guessed what fate still held in store for her, throwing her headlong into a fight that would determine the very existence of all mankind.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
THE LAST MAN: Part Twenty-six
“They must not fall in the hands of the Corporation,” Bethune tells me, dumping well-used journals, maps and paper into a roaring fire.
It was with some effort I managed to find her again. I was recognized by a fighter who accompanied Bethune and I to the Reclamation Center. She stepped from the shadows shrouded in dog hide. The black eyes and yellowed upper canines hanging down over her brow, and making her seem all the more threatening. She was a small, young woman with deep dark eyes, highly adapted and attuned to life and war in the sewers. Her tangled blond hair was bundled beneath a hood. A large red-brown birthmark covered one side of her angular face, extending down beneath her cloak. A crudely forged scimitar was at her waist. In her hand she carried a Section Twenty-one pistol. She held it awkwardly, as though she might fling it at an adversary rather than shoot it at one.
“Please go back,” her tone was pained, almost pleading. “Go back to the others. Go with them and leave the city for good.”
“What’s happening?”
“It is too terrible,” she replied. “I think we will all die.”
“And you?”
“I am with the cause, and to the end,” she said before relenting and leading me back to Bethune.
As we made our way through the sewers the thunder and roar of the Reclamation Center seemed to grow to a din, like a great monster no longer fulfilled at being fed by its patrons and keepers of the Corporation. It seemed as if the whole monstrous plant might tear from its moorings to devour the city. The walls shook as I never remembered. Maybe it was me and my skewed perspective and visceral disdain for that place, or perhaps the world was rising to a cataclysm. Either way time was slipping away, something which now felt entirely out of my control. History is a raging river, and I was being swept helplessly and inexorably towards an inevitable conclusion.
It was with some effort I managed to find her again. I was recognized by a fighter who accompanied Bethune and I to the Reclamation Center. She stepped from the shadows shrouded in dog hide. The black eyes and yellowed upper canines hanging down over her brow, and making her seem all the more threatening. She was a small, young woman with deep dark eyes, highly adapted and attuned to life and war in the sewers. Her tangled blond hair was bundled beneath a hood. A large red-brown birthmark covered one side of her angular face, extending down beneath her cloak. A crudely forged scimitar was at her waist. In her hand she carried a Section Twenty-one pistol. She held it awkwardly, as though she might fling it at an adversary rather than shoot it at one.
“Please go back,” her tone was pained, almost pleading. “Go back to the others. Go with them and leave the city for good.”
“What’s happening?”
“It is too terrible,” she replied. “I think we will all die.”
“And you?”
“I am with the cause, and to the end,” she said before relenting and leading me back to Bethune.
As we made our way through the sewers the thunder and roar of the Reclamation Center seemed to grow to a din, like a great monster no longer fulfilled at being fed by its patrons and keepers of the Corporation. It seemed as if the whole monstrous plant might tear from its moorings to devour the city. The walls shook as I never remembered. Maybe it was me and my skewed perspective and visceral disdain for that place, or perhaps the world was rising to a cataclysm. Either way time was slipping away, something which now felt entirely out of my control. History is a raging river, and I was being swept helplessly and inexorably towards an inevitable conclusion.
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