Crossing the Rubicon
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A private eye gets set up
----
Sometimes you turn on the TV in the middle of the afternoon. It means you’re bored to tears, but there’s nothing better to do then rot your mind. The same television shows are running on a loop. It’s a different show every time, to be sure, but its always the same story. And in every story, there’s a tall, dark, stranger. The kind of man whose face you never see, the one who shows up at your door at night, asks some questions and leave. The man who shoots first and asks questions later, like a modern-day Clint Eastwood. That man is me.
It's raining outside. It's always raining. The weatherman comes on the telly every morning, going on about "percentages of precipitation" and all sorts of technical mumbo jumbo, but all he's saying is that it's going to rain. Again. It's always raining.
My name's Darrel McCrimmon. I've been living in this city for almost three years now, and I don't think I've seen a clear sky since I left Scotland.
Still, a wee bit of water is always a good excuse to visit the bar. A stiff drink and a bar of chocolate always makes the day seem a bit dryer. And there's no better place for information.
I'm an investigator. Some people call me a private eye, and I laugh at them. I have two eyes, you see, so I'm twice as good. And twice as expensive, but you get what you pay for.
I'm on the job today. Some dame got her diamonds pinched by a mugger. Rich girl like her ought to learn to keep her jewelry hidden, but then where would I be? Living on the street somewhere, not that my apartment's much better. Anyways, its damned hard trying to find two men in a city of thousands when all you have is a picture to go by.
I slip into a barstool and slip Lenny a fivespot. "The usual." Lenny nods and passes me a glass and a bar. "Say, Lenny..." He looks up from an empty glass he's been wiping. "I gotta case. You seen either o' these fellas?" I slip the crude drawing across the bar.
"Yeah," he says, "That's One-Eyed Fred." He leans forward conspiritorily, "You can tell cause he's only got the one eye."
Day's starting to look brighter already. "You know where he lives?"
"27th and Bryce. What'd he do now?"
"Pinched some shinies. I won't hurt him too bad." I slip him another fivespot for the scoop and leave. My glass is still full, but you can't let a lead go cold. And if the dame pays up, the price of a beer isn't going to be a problem.
The buildings loom over my head like unflinching gods as I make my way up Bryce street, their gloomy windows staring into my very soul. The rain has slowed to almost a drizzle, and it pools in the crease of my fedora. I slog through the gloomy streets and watch the eccentricities of the ants. Here, a shopper tries vainly to shield her purchases from the rain. There, a drunkard argues with an SUV. I glance at the streetsigns as they go by. 21st. 22nd. 23rd. The numbers rise in a steady rhythym, mingled with the ceaseless torrent. 24th. 25th. 26th. I reach into my inner pocket and pull out my glock. Subterfuge is a lost art. 27th.
The street corner has an old Amoco station, a Dunkin-Donuts, a Walgreens, and an old warehouse. I check out the warehouse first. I knock on the large wooden door. No answer. I shout. Still no answer. I try the handle, but it's locked. My Glock makes a good lockpick, even if its a bit noisy. The door swings open easily.
The place has been ransacked. Papers are scattered everywhere, and a rather large cabinet has been knocked over. The oven is still on, and there's a bowl of cereal on the table. Somebody left here in a hurry. I reach over to turn of the often.
My hand is just barely on the dial when I feel cold metal on the back of my head. I put my hands up slowly. "Hello, Fred,"
"That's right, Inspector. How about you keep your hands up and lets have a nice little chat,
shall we?"
I turn around slowly, my eyes falling upon my Glock, lying abandoned on the table near the cereal where I set it when I went to turn off the oven. Fred is a well-muscled man with a wide face and a buzz cut. "I'm sure we can be civil about this."
He grunts, and gestures to the chair with the gun. I sit down slowly, and he ties my hands and legs. "Come now, can't we come to a deal?" Fred only glares at me, "If you just gave me back the diamonds I'm sure I could come up with some monetary recompense--"
He laughs. "There are no diamonds," he says bluntly.
"But I was hired-"
"It was a ruse. Sheila, say hello to our guest." A women, clad in a blue dress with long blonde hair steps out of a backroom.
"Hello, Mr. McCrimmon. Are you comfortable?" It's the dame who hired me in the first place.
"You filthy low-down wh-" I strain at the ropes.
"Language, Mr. McCrimmon," she coos, "Please try to be dignified on your final day alive." She picks up an old piece of wood that looks like it fell off the rotting wall. She holds it over the oven until it ignites, then drops it on the floor, which catches flame. "Oops, I dropped it," she giggles, "Have a nice death, Mr. McCrimmon. I'll be seeing you." She walks out the door.
"Or not," growls Fred, with a one last glare at me before he follows her.
I was a boy scout once, a long time ago. I never made it past Tenderfoot. Wish I had. Then I might know something about how to untie a knot. As it is, I seem to be totally screwed. Unless...
I shift in the chair, scooting across the floor away from the flames. I have to do this just right...
The fire reaches my glock. As the flames roar up along the table, the bullet in the chamber began to superheat....
And nothing happens. Blast it. The flames are too close. I blow on them, but to no avail.
BLAM!
The Glock fires, and the bullet passes through rope and chair leg, freeing my legs. I just had my timing off, that's all. With a good backwards kick, the old chair falls apart and I can slip my hands free. I dodge a burning timber. Wrapping my hand in my trenchcoat, I grab my Glock and dive out the door just as the warehouse collapses.
As I sit in front of the ashes in a cloud of smoky rain, thoughts meander through my head. Why were they trying to kill me? And how did he know I was going to be there? Unless there was a third man in that nefarious trio, one whom would lead me in the right direction, send me unknowing into my doom....
"You’ve crossed the Rubicon, Lenny,"
The bar is closed, and the patrons have left. Only me, Lenny, and Buster are left. Buster is my Glock. Lenny is behind the bar, I'm on the other side. Buster is between us, his muzzle in the bartender's throat.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Darrel."
"The Rubicon. When Caeser crossed it, it was his final act of treachery, forcing Rome to take action," I press Buster further into the folds of his skin, "You sold me out. Ratted on me. I want to know why. How much did they pay you?"
“If I’m Caeser, then, you’re Pompey,” he says slowly
“I guess I am.”
“Pompey died. Caeser won.”
There’s only one thing I hate worse then a traitor, and that’s a man who twists my words against me. “Let’s change times, then. I’m thinking Ides of March.”
BLAM!
There's a searing pain in my left arm as something slams into it. I spin and fire three times at the new assailant. Sheila falls, her blue dress stained with red.
A left hook from Lenny drops me to the floor. I taste blood in my mouth, and I don't mouth. "Why, Lenny?"
"Fred, take his gun," says Lenny. Fred steps out from the shadows, too, and takes my Glock.
"Well, well, the gang's all here. Now will someone tell me what this is all about?"
"Richard Montalesci's out of jail, Darrel," says Lenny, "and he's mad at you for busting his Alkali Lake ring. He's offering a million for your head. That's too much to resist."
"A million!" roars Fred, "You were only payin' Sheil' and me 250 grand."
"I would have paid you more, but--"
"You lying bastard!" BLAM! Lenny taks the slug in a belly and he's down beside me. "And now to end your meddling influence once and for all." The Glock swings round to point at me.
"I'm sorry, lad," I say.
"Too late for apologies, McCrimmon." He pulls the trigger.
"I'm sorry for being out of ammo." I kick out with my leg and send him spilling to the floor with a thud. I dive for the bar and grab an empty shot glass. Fred's flailing hand grabs my wounded arm and I can't help but scream. Screaming or no, I manage to bring the glass down on his head. The glass shatters and his eyes roll up. He falls, releasing my arm. I take Buster from his limp hands and holster it.
I check pulses; all three of them are alive, even Sheila. I put my fedora back on as I move behind the bar. I take up the phone and ring up the station. I tell the cops I have three wounded suspects, and the chief says he'll be right over.
I won't be here when he arrives. I'll be on the docks, looking for Montalesci. No one puts a bounty on my head unless they want me to come looking for them. That means it's a trap, and I love springing traps. Rather a hobby of mine, come to think of it. Ah well, the night is young, and it's still raining.
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Shuffle
Shuffle
Written: 2006
Synopsis: Guy loses girl. Some hallucinations. Possibly deep, but probably just emo.
----------------
This is my story. This is not my story. This is your story. This is everyone's story, and the cast is everyone you ever knew. She is the girl. The one you loved, the one who meant something to you. He is him. He needs no further introduction, I think, but if I must, he is the one she loved. The one you had to fight, the one you had to hate. You are the author. You are me and I am you and we are everybody. I am the walrus. Coo-coo-ca-choo and all that.
- - -
Shuffle
American Pie - Don McLean
A long, long, time ago. That's when it starts. That's when all stories start. And when all stories end, if they come to an end. Not all of them do. This one doesn't. Any tale becomes a tale of the past. Even if it was not written as such it shall become one, as the now melts away and the future becomes the now. So it goes.
Shuffle
Funeral/Rebuilding Serenity - David Newman
Music used to make me smile. Now all it does it make me sigh. What's a man to do when all seems lost? The cards have been dealt, and you can bluff your way to the top, but when you finally get called, can you still win? I lean back in my chair, lean back more than is really necessary, and dream of better odds, of possible futures.
Shuffle.
Duel of the Fates - John Williams
I knew if I had my chance, I could take him out. And this is it. I see him coming. I have a sword in each hand. I toss one to him. This has to be done honourably. He makes the first pass, I block. The metal echoes into the void that surrounds us. I counterattack, and everything falls away. There is nothing else. There is only the duel, there is only the dance. Nothing else exists. It lasts for eons. Empires rise and fall, great civilizations are dashed into the dust. Universes are born, suns die. Then she is there. I see us reflected in her face, the fear etched across her visage. My concentration wavers. I do not feel the metal biting into my neck. I do not feel the hot blood spraying from my jugular vein.
Shuffle.
Wheel of Fortune - Hans Zimmer
I see him coming again. I drive one of the swords into the asphalt and step back. He draws it out. This time I make the first move, driving hard at his flank. His parries and counter-attacks, and the world slips away once more. I see the whole of existence spread out before me. A massive hand stretches out across the starry heavens. Cards flutter down, each one dealt is another clash of metal. The Ace of Hearts floats down before me, then the Knave and the 10 of the same suit. The King of Hearts follows shortly thereafter. Then the Queen of Hearts is falling towards me, and its face is her face, and I meet her eyes. I blink, and glance away. My concentration holds, and this Royal Flush fortells my fate. Nothing can stop me now. My sword rends muscle and bone, and he is torn apart. But the cards keep falling, and her screams echo in my ears even as she tumbles away across the stars. It makes me shiver.
Shuffle
Flamenco Sketches - Miles Davis
Everything is merely a reflection of who you know, and who the people you know know. A few dollars in the right hands can make a world of difference. One day he doesn't show up. He left home and no one ever sees him again. No body is ever found, but I know what happened. My friends held up their end of the bargain. I console her in her grief, and then we're together, for a while. But the pain eats through my mortal soul, devouring so completely music cannot save it.
Shuffle
It's Not My Birthday - They Might be Giants
Sometimes fate plays Baccarat. Two cards are easier then five. She's the nine of hearts, a winning hand by itself. But you need two cards to play, and he's the ace of clubs, leering out at me from the unlucky clover. Together, they make nothing, nothing at all. I know I'm out of luck. I can call for another card, but the odds are not in my favour. They never were.
Shuffle
The Switch - David Arnold
I followed them to the mall. A trenchcoat to guard my form, a cap and sunglasses to hide my face. They never saw me coming. But the odds are wrong, and he's still ready. He ducks and my first shot passes over his head and into a coatrack. Then he's charging at me, and I'm tumbling back across the racks. The shirts are falling everywhere and people are running helter skelter. I pull the trigger again. I don't hear the report, I realize I can't hear anything, but blood blossoms on his shirt and red trickles down his mouth as he collapses. She's there, her mouth is open, I think she's screaming but I cannot hear her. She stares at me, and her eyes are so full of hatred it hurts more than any bullet wound.
Shuffle
The Fool on the Hill - The Beatles
Sometimes I just watch. I can see everything, everything that was, everything that will be, everything that won't be. My mind arcs across the possibilities, and he pops up each time, heading me off. They say that life's a stage, and if so then he's a damned good actor. I clench my fists and howl at the injustice. It feels good to scream. But it doesn't help anything.
Shuffle
Calico Skies - Paul McCartney
Sometimes you sit down to a game and you get a great hand on the first go. No drawing, no bluffing, no tricks. He never existed, never will exist. I sit with her on the hilltop, watching the starry skies, no city lights to counter their glow, no zepellins to obstruct their eternal gaze. Nothing is wrong, and yet everything is. It's not real, never will happen, never can happen. Hope fails, and the Challenger explodes.
Shuffle
He's a Pirate - Klaus Badelt
What are the odds? Just numbers determining a random fate. A million to one? 3,270 to one? Ten to one? Is that all that life is? A random hand, a stock deal? We are nameless, we are faceless, we are nothing in the grand scheme of eternity. But not everything can be random. There has to be hope. Never tell me the odds.
Shuffle
A Narnian Lullaby - Harry Gregson-Williams
I cannot always know the odds. He drifts in and out of my vision, but I can feel his presence like a weight on my back. Then he's gone, and I don't know why. I spot her in the hall, and I ask her for some happy news. She just smiles and turns away. Have I done something wrong? Has he done something I know not of? I hate him all the more for not knowing.
Shuffle
Anakin's Betrayal - John Williams
Everything changes. Probabilities shift, the odds are changed. What has happened may have happened, what has not happened may never happen. What has happened never happened, and what will happen never will. She went out with him yesterday and never came back. Was she killed? Is he dead? Did they run off to a better place? Did they catch the last train for the coast? I look for answers, but there are none to be found.
Shuffle
The End of All Things - Howard Shore
It ends in fire. Most things do. I cannot win against the oppresive tide and I am swept away. She goes on, she does not. He goes on, he does not. It doesn't really matter anymore. You cannot fight fate. So I'll just wait here, biding my time. Nobody's perfect, certainly not me and least of all him. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake. When he does, I'll be ready. I'll be waiting. Waiting hurts, and sometimes every day feels like it'll be the day that I die, but patience is a virtue, as they say. And so I wait.
Written: 2006
Synopsis: Guy loses girl. Some hallucinations. Possibly deep, but probably just emo.
----------------
This is my story. This is not my story. This is your story. This is everyone's story, and the cast is everyone you ever knew. She is the girl. The one you loved, the one who meant something to you. He is him. He needs no further introduction, I think, but if I must, he is the one she loved. The one you had to fight, the one you had to hate. You are the author. You are me and I am you and we are everybody. I am the walrus. Coo-coo-ca-choo and all that.
- - -
Shuffle
American Pie - Don McLean
A long, long, time ago. That's when it starts. That's when all stories start. And when all stories end, if they come to an end. Not all of them do. This one doesn't. Any tale becomes a tale of the past. Even if it was not written as such it shall become one, as the now melts away and the future becomes the now. So it goes.
Shuffle
Funeral/Rebuilding Serenity - David Newman
Music used to make me smile. Now all it does it make me sigh. What's a man to do when all seems lost? The cards have been dealt, and you can bluff your way to the top, but when you finally get called, can you still win? I lean back in my chair, lean back more than is really necessary, and dream of better odds, of possible futures.
Shuffle.
Duel of the Fates - John Williams
I knew if I had my chance, I could take him out. And this is it. I see him coming. I have a sword in each hand. I toss one to him. This has to be done honourably. He makes the first pass, I block. The metal echoes into the void that surrounds us. I counterattack, and everything falls away. There is nothing else. There is only the duel, there is only the dance. Nothing else exists. It lasts for eons. Empires rise and fall, great civilizations are dashed into the dust. Universes are born, suns die. Then she is there. I see us reflected in her face, the fear etched across her visage. My concentration wavers. I do not feel the metal biting into my neck. I do not feel the hot blood spraying from my jugular vein.
Shuffle.
Wheel of Fortune - Hans Zimmer
I see him coming again. I drive one of the swords into the asphalt and step back. He draws it out. This time I make the first move, driving hard at his flank. His parries and counter-attacks, and the world slips away once more. I see the whole of existence spread out before me. A massive hand stretches out across the starry heavens. Cards flutter down, each one dealt is another clash of metal. The Ace of Hearts floats down before me, then the Knave and the 10 of the same suit. The King of Hearts follows shortly thereafter. Then the Queen of Hearts is falling towards me, and its face is her face, and I meet her eyes. I blink, and glance away. My concentration holds, and this Royal Flush fortells my fate. Nothing can stop me now. My sword rends muscle and bone, and he is torn apart. But the cards keep falling, and her screams echo in my ears even as she tumbles away across the stars. It makes me shiver.
Shuffle
Flamenco Sketches - Miles Davis
Everything is merely a reflection of who you know, and who the people you know know. A few dollars in the right hands can make a world of difference. One day he doesn't show up. He left home and no one ever sees him again. No body is ever found, but I know what happened. My friends held up their end of the bargain. I console her in her grief, and then we're together, for a while. But the pain eats through my mortal soul, devouring so completely music cannot save it.
Shuffle
It's Not My Birthday - They Might be Giants
Sometimes fate plays Baccarat. Two cards are easier then five. She's the nine of hearts, a winning hand by itself. But you need two cards to play, and he's the ace of clubs, leering out at me from the unlucky clover. Together, they make nothing, nothing at all. I know I'm out of luck. I can call for another card, but the odds are not in my favour. They never were.
Shuffle
The Switch - David Arnold
I followed them to the mall. A trenchcoat to guard my form, a cap and sunglasses to hide my face. They never saw me coming. But the odds are wrong, and he's still ready. He ducks and my first shot passes over his head and into a coatrack. Then he's charging at me, and I'm tumbling back across the racks. The shirts are falling everywhere and people are running helter skelter. I pull the trigger again. I don't hear the report, I realize I can't hear anything, but blood blossoms on his shirt and red trickles down his mouth as he collapses. She's there, her mouth is open, I think she's screaming but I cannot hear her. She stares at me, and her eyes are so full of hatred it hurts more than any bullet wound.
Shuffle
The Fool on the Hill - The Beatles
Sometimes I just watch. I can see everything, everything that was, everything that will be, everything that won't be. My mind arcs across the possibilities, and he pops up each time, heading me off. They say that life's a stage, and if so then he's a damned good actor. I clench my fists and howl at the injustice. It feels good to scream. But it doesn't help anything.
Shuffle
Calico Skies - Paul McCartney
Sometimes you sit down to a game and you get a great hand on the first go. No drawing, no bluffing, no tricks. He never existed, never will exist. I sit with her on the hilltop, watching the starry skies, no city lights to counter their glow, no zepellins to obstruct their eternal gaze. Nothing is wrong, and yet everything is. It's not real, never will happen, never can happen. Hope fails, and the Challenger explodes.
Shuffle
He's a Pirate - Klaus Badelt
What are the odds? Just numbers determining a random fate. A million to one? 3,270 to one? Ten to one? Is that all that life is? A random hand, a stock deal? We are nameless, we are faceless, we are nothing in the grand scheme of eternity. But not everything can be random. There has to be hope. Never tell me the odds.
Shuffle
A Narnian Lullaby - Harry Gregson-Williams
I cannot always know the odds. He drifts in and out of my vision, but I can feel his presence like a weight on my back. Then he's gone, and I don't know why. I spot her in the hall, and I ask her for some happy news. She just smiles and turns away. Have I done something wrong? Has he done something I know not of? I hate him all the more for not knowing.
Shuffle
Anakin's Betrayal - John Williams
Everything changes. Probabilities shift, the odds are changed. What has happened may have happened, what has not happened may never happen. What has happened never happened, and what will happen never will. She went out with him yesterday and never came back. Was she killed? Is he dead? Did they run off to a better place? Did they catch the last train for the coast? I look for answers, but there are none to be found.
Shuffle
The End of All Things - Howard Shore
It ends in fire. Most things do. I cannot win against the oppresive tide and I am swept away. She goes on, she does not. He goes on, he does not. It doesn't really matter anymore. You cannot fight fate. So I'll just wait here, biding my time. Nobody's perfect, certainly not me and least of all him. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake. When he does, I'll be ready. I'll be waiting. Waiting hurts, and sometimes every day feels like it'll be the day that I die, but patience is a virtue, as they say. And so I wait.
To Slay a Dragon
To Slay a Dragon
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A pair of astronauts find themselves fighting a dragon for all humanity.
----------
The balance shifted. The very eddies and currents of the oceans reversed, and in the center of the Pacific, a gargantuan whirlpool opened up. There was a horrible crack as the sheer force of the water sundered solid rock. Islands were sucked down into the massive horror. The Solomons were the first to go, the Fiji, then Tonga, and the Marianas. Hawaii lasted a second longer, then it too disappeared into the void. Australia sank, and the western part of California snapped off into the abyss. And then, from inside the cataclysm, it rose from the depths. Its blue scales glittered in the light. Its talons flexed, ready to rend and tear. As it cleared the water, it unfurled leathery wings and bellowed forth a terrible roar. The dragon had risen
***
D+0. Space Station ST321
***
Jason McNamath stared down at the destruction. "I told you so," said George.
George had, actually. It had been only twelve days ago when George had said, "If you activate this device, a giant whirlpool will open up in the Atlantic and a long-forgotten dragon will rise from the depths." Admittedly, he had guessed the wrong ocean, but he had still been mostly right.
"You were right. Now what do we do?"
"We fight."
***
D-17 Days. Arcite Laboratories.
***
"Are you sure this will work, Jase?" George and Jason were walking through the long white corridors of the laboratory.
"Of course it will. You've seen the data, why won't you believe me?"
George spoke hesitantly "It's not that I don't believe you, but...."
"But what? We're saving the world, George. We'll be heroes!"
"You and your heroism! You place too much faith in ancient texts. A barely translatable work taken from an ancient pyramid is no basis for a scientific experiment of this magnitude!"
"And why not?" Jason stopped and turned on his friend, "People are dying, George, and this might be able to stop that. Can you stand by and let them suffer when we have the chance to save them? Anyway, what do we have to lose? Earth is a barren wasteland. Everyone's been evacuated for years now, except for people like us."
"I still don't like this, Jason. But let's go ahead."
"Thanks, George. It'll work, trust me on this."
***
D+1 minute. Space Station ST321
***
"We have to evacuate the station. Get to the shuttles," said George.
"Look at it, George! Isn't it magnificent?" Jason stared through the viewpoint in rapture.
"Dammit, Jase, yes, but it's going to kill us! Run!"
"Run... yes.. right..." Jason wrenched his head away from the viewport. "I'm okay. Let's go."
***
D-12 years. Parkway North High School. Earth.
***
"Blast it, nothing works anymore!" Jason punched the air angrily.
"What's wrong, now?" sighed George. People rushed past them in the halls, racing to classrooms like a herd of cattle heading for the slaughter.
"Nobody believes anymore," lamented Jason, "No honour, no courage. No minds. Look at them, George. Watch them in the halls. What's the point to it all?"
"I would like to point out that we are in the halls heading to class as well."
Jason dodged a football player who wasn't paying attention to where he was going. "And that's the worst of it. But it doesn't really matter. It's our last year, we'll get out of here, and then..."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. In the stories, the hero always slays the dragon, gets the girl, and lives happily ever after."
"Sounds good."
"But there are no dragons anymore."
***
D+6 Minutes. Solar System.
***
The two shuttles, white, pristine, and bristling with armaments, blasted away from the space station. Jason toggled a couple dials on the console. A small screen began showing what was happening behind him.
The whirlpool had disappeared, and the dragon was looking about at its new environment. It glanced upward, staring straight into Jason's eyes.
"No! It's a camera! It can't see me!" protested Jason to no one in particular. The dragon leapt upwards, away from earth, with a speed matching the shuttle's. With a single swipe of it's claw, it shredded the space station, barely pausing in its pursuit.
George's voice crackled over Jason's intercomm, "It's following us already. Was that part of the plan?"
Jason keyed his own transmitter. "No, but we can deal with it. We'll lose it in the asteroid belt. Switching to manual controls."
***
D-5 Days. Arcite Laboratories
***
"You don't care, do you?" asked George.
Jason screwed a bolt on the gigantic contraption. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't care if this summons a dragon. You just want to kill one. You've always wanted too."
Jason tightened the bolt a few more times than was absolutely necessary. "Listen to me!"
"This will work," exploded Jason "Dragons don't exist, dammit!" he hurled his wrench across the room where it hit the wall with a smash. "Stop talking nonsense! Get to work!"
***
D+8 Minutes. The Asteroid Belt
***
"You sure about this?" said George, "Flying into the Belt on manual? You're crazy"
"It'd have to be crazy to follow us," replied Jason with a smile.
"Always Star Wars quotes with you, isn't it? But this is different! Our lives are at stake!"
"Got a better idea?"
"No, but -"
"Then stop arguing. Here goes nothing."
Jason guided his shuttle into the ring of rocks. Weaving and twisting, he dodged the space debris. Checking the monitor, he saw the dragon behind him smashing though the rocks. He glanced up just in time to yank the ship out of an asteroid's path. He dove down under another rock but found himself trapped between three more. He pulled a trigger, sending a pair of missile shooting from the craft's wingtips. The front asteroid exploded in a shower of fragments and Jason flew through the cataclysm. Shooting out of the flames, he saw no more rocks. He had cleared the belt. He keyed the transmitter.
"I'm clear, George. You alright?"
George's voice came through clearly. "I'm green. You look a bit singed. Are you stable?"
"I'm ok. Lemme see, engines are down to 99.7%... nothing that bad. Looks like the rocks at least slowed it down a bit. Let's keep to the plan."
***
D-3 Days. Arcite Laboratories.
***
Jason and George sat at a small table. George had an ancient-looking book in front of him.
"I agree," said Jason, "that we should be prepared for all eventualities. I still think you're crazy, mind you, but better safe then sorry."
"Alright. It seems that the monster gets bigger with each summoning. The first summoning occurring almost 8,000 years ago in Albion." said George, looking at the book.
"And how did they kill it?"
"Actually, they didn't. It was so small and mostly harmless so they left in the local lake. The next one, the one using the book we are, was in the time of Narmer in Egypt. It seems they hurled rocks at it until it fled."
"Right. This is helpful. If I ever meet a dragon, I'll be sure to remember 'throw rocks at it.'" said Jason sarcastically.
George glared at him. "The most recent was almost 2000 years ago, in Nicomedia. That one they stabbed with a lance, and tamed it before killing it."
"That sounds a bit more effective. So what will we do?"
"That's the problem," said George, "The dragon seems to grow exponentially with each summoning. If my calculations are correct, our dragon will be the size of Australia."
"Australia," echoed Jason. "Well, we can still throw rocks at it. Not likely to miss a target that big," he joked
"That's my idea." said George seriously, "We just need bigger rocks. Something almost planet-sized."
"Like Pluto?"
"Exactly. If my theory is correct, that will cause it to revert to the next smallest size, and then our missile launchers can easily take care of it."
"Works for me. Of course, you're still crazy."
***
D+18 Minutes. Pluto.
***
"It's starting to catch up again," muttered George.
"S'okay, we can make it. Say, how does it breathe in space?"
"I don't know, it's a magic, I guess. Ask me later when I'm not frightened for my life."
The two shuttles maneuvered to the dark side of the dwarf planet as the dragon closed.
"Almost there...." muttered Jason, "almost there...."
"Hey!" say George, "What'd I say about quoting Star Wars?"
"Oh yeah. Fire!" Jason reached over a pulled an exceptionally large lever. Metal doors slid apart on the underside of the shuttle and a gigantic missile was lowered out on a crane. Then, jets ignited and it flew away into Pluto. George's shuttle did the same, and the two projectiles hit simultaneously.
The explosion shredded off half of Pluto. Knocked askance from its orbit, Pluto hurtled sunwards, straight into the dragon. The monstrous beast bellowed in anger as it tumbled head over heels. Waves of energy coursed over it as it began to shrink.
Jason pulled the trigger as fast as he could, sending missile after missile into the magical reptile, creating a series of silent explosions until he was out of ammo.
"You think we got him?" he asked.
The smoke cleared, and two yellow eyes stared at him through the viewport.
"I guess not," said George, "It is smaller, though."
It was true; the dragon was only about the small size as one of the shuttles now.
"I'm out of weapons," said Jason.
"Me too," echoed George.
There was silence. Neither spoke, and the dragon continued to stare. Then the dragon exiled a gout of flame.
Jason slammed on the thrusters and dodged, as did George. "Move back sunward!" yelled Jason, "We have to lose it!"
***
D-5 Minutes. Space Station ST321
***
"This is it," said Jason, "the day the galaxy will rejoice!"
"Or the day the galaxy trembles in fear," muttered George.
"This will convert the nuclear-blasted Earth back into fresh farmland to feed the hungry!"
"Or awaken a dragon that will kill us all," said George, "Are you sure about this?"
"Of course." Jason pressed the button.
***
D+26 Minutes. Near Earth.
***
The two rockets cleared the belt and blew past Mars with the dragon right on their tail.
"What'll we do now?" yelled George over the communicator.
"Slingshot around the sun and head for Alpha Centauri for backup!" shouted Jason.
"The dragon's too close, it'll catch us!"
"Who said anything about us? I'll hold it off!" Jason began to turn his shuttle around.
"No! You'll be killed!" yelled George.
"Then I'll see you in hell!"
"Quoting Star Wars to the end," whispered George, "Good bye, Jason."
George watched on his monitor as Jason's shuttle blew past the dragon. The creature stopped and turned around. Jason tried to go past it again, but the dragon's talon tore the shuttle clean in half. George shook his head, slowly, and began to make the calculations for the slingshot.
***
D-12 Years. Parkway North High School. Earth.
***
"How can you make a name for yourself?" aksed Jason over lunch. The commons was crowded, and the dull roar of countless converstaions occuring simultaneously almost drowned out his words, "You can't go into politics without being a hypocrite, and you can't go into sports or movies without having your life scrutinized by random people and haivng every flaw blown out of proportion."
"Yeah, that's a problem, isn't it?" agreed George.
"It's not like the good old days," said Jason, "When all you had to do was slay a dragon."
***
D+27 Minutes. Wreckage of ST321.
***
All you have to do is slay a dragon. Jason woke up. It was cold in space. The dragon had torn through his ship, but he had managed to get suited up just before it decompressed. His checked his a gauge on his wrist. He had two hours worth of air.
Looking around, he noted he was in a floating scrappile. A nearby spar said ST321 on the side, and he realized he was in the wreckage of the space station. The broken spar, he noted, was rather pointy on one end. It couldn't actually work, could it?
"Hey dragon!" he yelled. He knew there was no sound in space, but the dragon was a magical being and Jason had the feeling it could hear him anyway.
It did. The beast turned and stared at the floating human. Hunger glinted in repitlian eyes as it moved in for the kill.
Jason pushed off a piece of debris as a gout of flame rushed past him. A talon swipe just missed his head, and he lunged out with his spar. The sharpened debris plunged into the dragon's chest.
White energy shot out from the point of impact and spread across the dragon. The beast began to glow, brighter than the stars, brighter then the sun. Jason shielded his eyes with one hand, but kept holding the spar. Then the dragon collapsed in on itself, massing at the spar's point into it was just a ball of light. Then it leaped away. Jason dropped the spar.
It hit the Earth's atmosphere and dispersed across it, falling down on the forsaken planet. Brown continents began to turn green. The ocean spat forth fallen islands, and those two grew lush with life. The polluted waters turned a bright shade of blue. The Earth was alive again.
***
D+6 Days. Alpha Cenaturi Colony New St. Louis.
***
"You were right, Jason. It worked," said George, "And you killed the dragon too!"
"Slew," said Jason, "You slay dragons."
"Whatever, you're a hero now, Jason!"
"I guess I'll live happily ever after now, then, huh?"
"Well..." said George, "That's the thing. Seems everyone in the area with a monster problem
wants the "Dragon-Slayer" to come help them."
"Figures. At least life is a bit more interesting now."
***
D+7 Days. Earth.
***
It awoke in the water. Fish swam in small circles around its head, and it snatched one in its powerful jaws. Bones snapped as the flippered denizen disappeared into an unnatural maw. It recalled, in its tiny brain, a vague image of two white fish that had hurt, and there had been another thing, something small. This thoughts quickly dwindled away, replaced by a more vital concept. Hungry. It swam after another fish.
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A pair of astronauts find themselves fighting a dragon for all humanity.
----------
The balance shifted. The very eddies and currents of the oceans reversed, and in the center of the Pacific, a gargantuan whirlpool opened up. There was a horrible crack as the sheer force of the water sundered solid rock. Islands were sucked down into the massive horror. The Solomons were the first to go, the Fiji, then Tonga, and the Marianas. Hawaii lasted a second longer, then it too disappeared into the void. Australia sank, and the western part of California snapped off into the abyss. And then, from inside the cataclysm, it rose from the depths. Its blue scales glittered in the light. Its talons flexed, ready to rend and tear. As it cleared the water, it unfurled leathery wings and bellowed forth a terrible roar. The dragon had risen
***
D+0. Space Station ST321
***
Jason McNamath stared down at the destruction. "I told you so," said George.
George had, actually. It had been only twelve days ago when George had said, "If you activate this device, a giant whirlpool will open up in the Atlantic and a long-forgotten dragon will rise from the depths." Admittedly, he had guessed the wrong ocean, but he had still been mostly right.
"You were right. Now what do we do?"
"We fight."
***
D-17 Days. Arcite Laboratories.
***
"Are you sure this will work, Jase?" George and Jason were walking through the long white corridors of the laboratory.
"Of course it will. You've seen the data, why won't you believe me?"
George spoke hesitantly "It's not that I don't believe you, but...."
"But what? We're saving the world, George. We'll be heroes!"
"You and your heroism! You place too much faith in ancient texts. A barely translatable work taken from an ancient pyramid is no basis for a scientific experiment of this magnitude!"
"And why not?" Jason stopped and turned on his friend, "People are dying, George, and this might be able to stop that. Can you stand by and let them suffer when we have the chance to save them? Anyway, what do we have to lose? Earth is a barren wasteland. Everyone's been evacuated for years now, except for people like us."
"I still don't like this, Jason. But let's go ahead."
"Thanks, George. It'll work, trust me on this."
***
D+1 minute. Space Station ST321
***
"We have to evacuate the station. Get to the shuttles," said George.
"Look at it, George! Isn't it magnificent?" Jason stared through the viewpoint in rapture.
"Dammit, Jase, yes, but it's going to kill us! Run!"
"Run... yes.. right..." Jason wrenched his head away from the viewport. "I'm okay. Let's go."
***
D-12 years. Parkway North High School. Earth.
***
"Blast it, nothing works anymore!" Jason punched the air angrily.
"What's wrong, now?" sighed George. People rushed past them in the halls, racing to classrooms like a herd of cattle heading for the slaughter.
"Nobody believes anymore," lamented Jason, "No honour, no courage. No minds. Look at them, George. Watch them in the halls. What's the point to it all?"
"I would like to point out that we are in the halls heading to class as well."
Jason dodged a football player who wasn't paying attention to where he was going. "And that's the worst of it. But it doesn't really matter. It's our last year, we'll get out of here, and then..."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. In the stories, the hero always slays the dragon, gets the girl, and lives happily ever after."
"Sounds good."
"But there are no dragons anymore."
***
D+6 Minutes. Solar System.
***
The two shuttles, white, pristine, and bristling with armaments, blasted away from the space station. Jason toggled a couple dials on the console. A small screen began showing what was happening behind him.
The whirlpool had disappeared, and the dragon was looking about at its new environment. It glanced upward, staring straight into Jason's eyes.
"No! It's a camera! It can't see me!" protested Jason to no one in particular. The dragon leapt upwards, away from earth, with a speed matching the shuttle's. With a single swipe of it's claw, it shredded the space station, barely pausing in its pursuit.
George's voice crackled over Jason's intercomm, "It's following us already. Was that part of the plan?"
Jason keyed his own transmitter. "No, but we can deal with it. We'll lose it in the asteroid belt. Switching to manual controls."
***
D-5 Days. Arcite Laboratories
***
"You don't care, do you?" asked George.
Jason screwed a bolt on the gigantic contraption. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't care if this summons a dragon. You just want to kill one. You've always wanted too."
Jason tightened the bolt a few more times than was absolutely necessary. "Listen to me!"
"This will work," exploded Jason "Dragons don't exist, dammit!" he hurled his wrench across the room where it hit the wall with a smash. "Stop talking nonsense! Get to work!"
***
D+8 Minutes. The Asteroid Belt
***
"You sure about this?" said George, "Flying into the Belt on manual? You're crazy"
"It'd have to be crazy to follow us," replied Jason with a smile.
"Always Star Wars quotes with you, isn't it? But this is different! Our lives are at stake!"
"Got a better idea?"
"No, but -"
"Then stop arguing. Here goes nothing."
Jason guided his shuttle into the ring of rocks. Weaving and twisting, he dodged the space debris. Checking the monitor, he saw the dragon behind him smashing though the rocks. He glanced up just in time to yank the ship out of an asteroid's path. He dove down under another rock but found himself trapped between three more. He pulled a trigger, sending a pair of missile shooting from the craft's wingtips. The front asteroid exploded in a shower of fragments and Jason flew through the cataclysm. Shooting out of the flames, he saw no more rocks. He had cleared the belt. He keyed the transmitter.
"I'm clear, George. You alright?"
George's voice came through clearly. "I'm green. You look a bit singed. Are you stable?"
"I'm ok. Lemme see, engines are down to 99.7%... nothing that bad. Looks like the rocks at least slowed it down a bit. Let's keep to the plan."
***
D-3 Days. Arcite Laboratories.
***
Jason and George sat at a small table. George had an ancient-looking book in front of him.
"I agree," said Jason, "that we should be prepared for all eventualities. I still think you're crazy, mind you, but better safe then sorry."
"Alright. It seems that the monster gets bigger with each summoning. The first summoning occurring almost 8,000 years ago in Albion." said George, looking at the book.
"And how did they kill it?"
"Actually, they didn't. It was so small and mostly harmless so they left in the local lake. The next one, the one using the book we are, was in the time of Narmer in Egypt. It seems they hurled rocks at it until it fled."
"Right. This is helpful. If I ever meet a dragon, I'll be sure to remember 'throw rocks at it.'" said Jason sarcastically.
George glared at him. "The most recent was almost 2000 years ago, in Nicomedia. That one they stabbed with a lance, and tamed it before killing it."
"That sounds a bit more effective. So what will we do?"
"That's the problem," said George, "The dragon seems to grow exponentially with each summoning. If my calculations are correct, our dragon will be the size of Australia."
"Australia," echoed Jason. "Well, we can still throw rocks at it. Not likely to miss a target that big," he joked
"That's my idea." said George seriously, "We just need bigger rocks. Something almost planet-sized."
"Like Pluto?"
"Exactly. If my theory is correct, that will cause it to revert to the next smallest size, and then our missile launchers can easily take care of it."
"Works for me. Of course, you're still crazy."
***
D+18 Minutes. Pluto.
***
"It's starting to catch up again," muttered George.
"S'okay, we can make it. Say, how does it breathe in space?"
"I don't know, it's a magic, I guess. Ask me later when I'm not frightened for my life."
The two shuttles maneuvered to the dark side of the dwarf planet as the dragon closed.
"Almost there...." muttered Jason, "almost there...."
"Hey!" say George, "What'd I say about quoting Star Wars?"
"Oh yeah. Fire!" Jason reached over a pulled an exceptionally large lever. Metal doors slid apart on the underside of the shuttle and a gigantic missile was lowered out on a crane. Then, jets ignited and it flew away into Pluto. George's shuttle did the same, and the two projectiles hit simultaneously.
The explosion shredded off half of Pluto. Knocked askance from its orbit, Pluto hurtled sunwards, straight into the dragon. The monstrous beast bellowed in anger as it tumbled head over heels. Waves of energy coursed over it as it began to shrink.
Jason pulled the trigger as fast as he could, sending missile after missile into the magical reptile, creating a series of silent explosions until he was out of ammo.
"You think we got him?" he asked.
The smoke cleared, and two yellow eyes stared at him through the viewport.
"I guess not," said George, "It is smaller, though."
It was true; the dragon was only about the small size as one of the shuttles now.
"I'm out of weapons," said Jason.
"Me too," echoed George.
There was silence. Neither spoke, and the dragon continued to stare. Then the dragon exiled a gout of flame.
Jason slammed on the thrusters and dodged, as did George. "Move back sunward!" yelled Jason, "We have to lose it!"
***
D-5 Minutes. Space Station ST321
***
"This is it," said Jason, "the day the galaxy will rejoice!"
"Or the day the galaxy trembles in fear," muttered George.
"This will convert the nuclear-blasted Earth back into fresh farmland to feed the hungry!"
"Or awaken a dragon that will kill us all," said George, "Are you sure about this?"
"Of course." Jason pressed the button.
***
D+26 Minutes. Near Earth.
***
The two rockets cleared the belt and blew past Mars with the dragon right on their tail.
"What'll we do now?" yelled George over the communicator.
"Slingshot around the sun and head for Alpha Centauri for backup!" shouted Jason.
"The dragon's too close, it'll catch us!"
"Who said anything about us? I'll hold it off!" Jason began to turn his shuttle around.
"No! You'll be killed!" yelled George.
"Then I'll see you in hell!"
"Quoting Star Wars to the end," whispered George, "Good bye, Jason."
George watched on his monitor as Jason's shuttle blew past the dragon. The creature stopped and turned around. Jason tried to go past it again, but the dragon's talon tore the shuttle clean in half. George shook his head, slowly, and began to make the calculations for the slingshot.
***
D-12 Years. Parkway North High School. Earth.
***
"How can you make a name for yourself?" aksed Jason over lunch. The commons was crowded, and the dull roar of countless converstaions occuring simultaneously almost drowned out his words, "You can't go into politics without being a hypocrite, and you can't go into sports or movies without having your life scrutinized by random people and haivng every flaw blown out of proportion."
"Yeah, that's a problem, isn't it?" agreed George.
"It's not like the good old days," said Jason, "When all you had to do was slay a dragon."
***
D+27 Minutes. Wreckage of ST321.
***
All you have to do is slay a dragon. Jason woke up. It was cold in space. The dragon had torn through his ship, but he had managed to get suited up just before it decompressed. His checked his a gauge on his wrist. He had two hours worth of air.
Looking around, he noted he was in a floating scrappile. A nearby spar said ST321 on the side, and he realized he was in the wreckage of the space station. The broken spar, he noted, was rather pointy on one end. It couldn't actually work, could it?
"Hey dragon!" he yelled. He knew there was no sound in space, but the dragon was a magical being and Jason had the feeling it could hear him anyway.
It did. The beast turned and stared at the floating human. Hunger glinted in repitlian eyes as it moved in for the kill.
Jason pushed off a piece of debris as a gout of flame rushed past him. A talon swipe just missed his head, and he lunged out with his spar. The sharpened debris plunged into the dragon's chest.
White energy shot out from the point of impact and spread across the dragon. The beast began to glow, brighter than the stars, brighter then the sun. Jason shielded his eyes with one hand, but kept holding the spar. Then the dragon collapsed in on itself, massing at the spar's point into it was just a ball of light. Then it leaped away. Jason dropped the spar.
It hit the Earth's atmosphere and dispersed across it, falling down on the forsaken planet. Brown continents began to turn green. The ocean spat forth fallen islands, and those two grew lush with life. The polluted waters turned a bright shade of blue. The Earth was alive again.
***
D+6 Days. Alpha Cenaturi Colony New St. Louis.
***
"You were right, Jason. It worked," said George, "And you killed the dragon too!"
"Slew," said Jason, "You slay dragons."
"Whatever, you're a hero now, Jason!"
"I guess I'll live happily ever after now, then, huh?"
"Well..." said George, "That's the thing. Seems everyone in the area with a monster problem
wants the "Dragon-Slayer" to come help them."
"Figures. At least life is a bit more interesting now."
***
D+7 Days. Earth.
***
It awoke in the water. Fish swam in small circles around its head, and it snatched one in its powerful jaws. Bones snapped as the flippered denizen disappeared into an unnatural maw. It recalled, in its tiny brain, a vague image of two white fish that had hurt, and there had been another thing, something small. This thoughts quickly dwindled away, replaced by a more vital concept. Hungry. It swam after another fish.
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