Escape Velocity: The Anthology (39 page)

      
Eldis practiced with a hand-held emdec, the same weapon his father had used during the war. Even though his vision was getting worse, and he had to take increasingly powerful corrective injections, he was satisfied with his progress. He loved how cool and slick the gun felt in his hands, and took pleasure in the destructive power of its blast as it ripped mercilessly through the concrete targets. The sulfur smell was irritating at first, but he came to find it utterly intoxicating. He loved its efficiency, and how it could recharge in less than three seconds. It had a beauty about it, a mathematical precision in its lines that was almost sexual, almost—

      
Damn!

      
He slammed the gun down, realizing he was thinking on Oveio. The concrete target whizzed by him, almost clipping him in the head, yet he remained motionless with his gun, and felt his confidence slipping from its foundation.

      
In two days he and his friends would assault the main hanger-deck of the city of Ithmarin. The plan was to commandeer the old battle-worn dromon
Redemption
and head for one of the outer colonies. They were determined to live their lives apart from the polished perfection of a world that no longer held a place for them.

       “
Oveio . . .” he moaned to himself. “Oveio . . .” Her face hung in his mind, her soul-consuming smile, her sanity-robbing voice. He had felt himself slipping, fading away into her clutches.

      
She wasn’t even vaguely interested. It was all
him
, and he knew it.

      
But I can’t help myself.
He closed his eyes, drinking in her image, his thoughts enveloped in the faint essence of her being.
I feel as though I could breathe in hope instead of air, hope that she would touch my naked skin and laugh at my clumsy words. If I could have but a few minutes of time to hold her in my arms.

      
He stood at the observation glass, and absently watched as his fellow conspirators fired at the targets whizzing past, destroying them with ease.

      
We never admit it to ourselves,
he thought,
but this world is just waiting for us to die. It wants to purge itself of the old, so the genetically refined chosen can stomp on our graves and press on, inheriting creation itself.

      
Suddenly someone nudged him in his back, and he whirled around, ready for a fight.

       “
Hey – hey,
Eldis!
” cried Droux, one of his closest friends, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just wondering what you’re thinkin’ on.”

       “
Sorry,” managed Eldis, a little unwilling to banish Oveio’s figment from his mind. “I’m thinking on a few things.”

       “
I’ve been doin’ that,” Droux said, leaning back against one of the walls, cracking his knuckles – an old habit that always annoyed Eldis. Droux was younger and had a strength about him that helped keep their small cadre coalesced and focused. “I mean, I feel like we finally got this world purged of all that crap from before, all the fightin’, all the war, and here we go doin’ it again! I mean—”

      
Eldis interrupted, not in the mood for politics or sociology. “Have you ever fallen in love with one of them?”

      
A wave of realization spread over Droux’s face. “That’s what all this is about. You’re in love with a freak. Which one?” Droux worked in the same building as Eldis, and knew most of his coworkers. “Daria? Iril?”

       “
Oveio.”

      
Droux let out a long, approving whistle. “She has to be the queen of the freaks!” They all called them freaks – it was the only term they could use to put down a race of near-perfect people. “There’s been a couple of times I’ve almost let my guard down with one of ‘em. I mean, they’re perfect, after all! Their lips, their hair, their soft, supple skin, the tone of their legs . . .” Droux took a long sigh, smiling to himself. “Can’t say I haven’t been where you are.”

       “
I’d almost rather die, than know I could never see her again.”

      
Droux grabbed Eldis and pinned him hard against the wall.

       “
Don’t you do it!” he shouted, slamming him back and forth. “Don’t you let them do that to you! They want us to die, but don’t give it to them like that!”

       “
It’s just . . . it’s over, for all of us!” pleaded Eldis, feeling suddenly old and weak. “Just last week, Racha—”

       “
Yeah, I know ‘bout Racha, and Holt and Dichon and all the rest! That’s why we have to leave. Those freaks are like drugs to us! They just want to keep us mollified until we all die off. You’ve got to hold it together for two more days.” He grabbed and twisted Eldis’ shoulders, as he punctuated every word he said. “We . . . won’t . . . let . . . them . . . win! Right?”

      
Eldis nodded, but Droux didn’t take that as an answer.

       “
Right?!”

       “
Yeah, yeah, just back off!” Eldis shoved him back, and Droux pushed back, but with a wide grin on his face.

       “
Now, get home, and do that wife of yours – real good. She’s a sweet little thing, and if you stopped fightin’ with her all the time, you just might start to appreciate what you got.”

The
Redemption
sat before them, a magnificent old ship, bathed in the brilliance of a hundred spotlights. It was a sacred ship – a hero of the Ascension war. It drew pilgrims from around the globe to see it, touch it, and wonder at all it had done.

      
As Eldis, Droux and the others watched, they saw only two souls guarding it, and they looked asleep.

      
Eldis steadied his nerves as they slipped cautiously into the hangar bay. Droux’s eyes flashed like those of a hunter in the glade, ready to make the kill. The others followed, echoing his grim determination to vent their pent-up frustration and escape the planet.

      
Suddenly, emdec fire punctuated the icy calm of day. Thankfully for all involved, it was brief, as neither of the two stewards of the complex anticipated anyone would want to steal the ship. They fell easily and quickly, stunned by two quick bursts from Droux’s emdec. He raised his gun to the cheers of the fifty people gathered around him.

       “
At last, freedom! Adea and Wo-li get the ship’s main power up and running. Everyone else, load the supplies!”

      
They moved quickly, scurrying back and forth between the five parked trucks outside and the ship. After a few minutes, the
Redemption
breathed once more, with great jets of whitish gas venting from its drive bays, and the whir of the engines filling the complex with a deafening roar. For a moment Droux paused, with Eldis next to him, and beamed with satisfaction.

       “
Almost there! Just a couple of more minutes of loading, and we’ll be able . . . do you smell that?”

      
Eldis nodded, as a very strong odor of electricity and wet animal suddenly filled their throats.

       “
It’s the damned NnuG barrier!” cried Droux. “Get away from the ship!”

      
An energy field crackled to life around the ship like faint bluish lightning, coming down like a steel curtain in a tight radius around the vessel. Several were caught in its event horizon, and Eldis watched with horror as their bodies were sliced in two, falling dead without a sound.

       “
Damn!” yelled Droux, as he rallied those still outside the ship around him. “How many got in?”

       “
Only ten,” answered Eldis, doing a quick head count. “And we have no contact with them.”

       “
What do you think happened?” asked Eldis.

       “
Automatic defenses. They must have installed some new—”

      
A stern voice blared from an intercom. “Attention! This is CRODAM. The base is surrounded. Lay down your weapons at once.”

       “
Not a chance!” screamed Droux defiantly. “We’re not gonna be pacified like the others!”

      
Droux kept shouting to the cheers of those around him as Eldis found a corner and sat down on the cold ground. He was tired. He held his emdec close, absently gazing on the mighty ship sitting impotent before him.

      
Is this how it will end?
He thought back on his childhood, which seemed to only exist during the year of the Ascension war.
I lost my mother and father in that terrible war, only to end up like this?
The main door to the hangar was open, and he could see the open night sky through it. The galaxy hung low, its mighty arms beckoning all to discover its secrets.
But we’ve suffered through so much! How many died—billions? Numbers I can’t even imagine. And here we are, still fighting.

      
In the distance, he could hear them firing their emdecs, screaming profanity, while others moaned as the CRODAM officers mowed them down, stunning them into submission. Eldis folded into himself, dearly wishing he could be free of all before him.

      
He saw an officer approach him, his silver boots gleaming in the spotlight.

      
Eldis raised his emdec, and the officer stopped, saying something, trying to convince him to surrender.
There must be more than this. If I dream it, it will be . . .
He put the emdec to his throat, and pulled the trigger.

      
It was the shattering of the surface of a lake covered in fallen leaves. They scattered from the impact, shocked from their repose, but were drawn back as the surface tension reformed.

      
So it was with Eldis’ very essence, his tangible will. It shattered after the blast, as a large piece of his body was blown away.

      
In his mind, wraiths swirled, taunting him, ripping at him, seeking to tear the fabric of his being apart. He could feel something limitless and eternal yawn before him, seducing him to follow. It called for him to flee from all that was wrong and painful and foul. But the surface of his will remained unbroken, and as the emdec lay at his side, as the blood pooled around him, his will tightened and solidified, his inner might tried to extinguish the eternal flame he knew was calling.

      
And yet, his body was broken beyond repair. No matter how much he wanted to get up and go away, somewhere, anywhere, nothing would obey his commands. He laid his head back as the CRODAM fools mouthed something he could no longer hear.

      
An image formed in his mind, full of warmth and sweetness, compassion and commiseration. To him, it was Oveio, her scent tasting like the nectar of limitless flowers. She begged him to follow, to let his will break into a thousand pearls to be scattered on the cosmic wind, and become one with the arms of all creation. She was as a star against the blackness of reality, and he knew he had seen it all somewhere before.

Target Audience

Mark Lewis

Cheryline’s invitation to dinner popped into Lance’s mind, and he smiled. It opened in the image of a flower unfolding its petals. He read it in his consciousness as it overlaid his view of the rain-drenched streets of Paris. The message gave him the location in Montmartre, tonight’s special menu, a map and a message: “Congratulations on the new job, dinner’s on me xxx”. Lance sent an affectionate message in response, direct via Psimail.  Lance filed away the messages, then brought up a map to the nearest entrance to the Metro. He was soaked through, his hair flattened, but as he walked into the crowded, hot station his spirits were high with new-found hope.

      
The train was bustling; Lance leaned up against the fold-up seats. He was looking forward to seeing Cheryline; the new job would be a first step on the road to financial recovery, and hopefully the repair of their life together. The poverty, due to his redundancy had held their hopes back for things that many took for granted, a warm home together, and children. They had argued when he had let his Spamblock lapse, but he had no real choice; it was the only saving he had not already made. He was confident that he had the mental discipline to block out or at least disregard any direct mental advertising without the Spamblock barrier. There had been rumours of people without Spamblocks suffering mental breakdowns, but Lance reasoned that these were just rumours, the regulators would never allow dangerous thoughts to be beamed into people’s heads by the advertisers.

      
Wedged into the carriage, Lance heard saxophone music: must be a busker. The playing was skilled, but slightly corny, the sort of music sexy women manifested to in movies. He saw a woman, pushing confidently through the crowd. Her sea-blue eyes locked on him. She wore a yellow mini-skirt and pink vest, her skin was tanned, her dark brown hair loose and luxuriant, a mane. She was not entirely to Lance’s taste, but conventionally stunning. The siren pushed the last passenger out of the way and grasped Lance by his collar, pulling him towards her. She kissed him, long and deep.   She drew away, leaving him wanting more. Then, she moved in towards him, this time her face close to his neck, and drew in a deep breath through her nose. A seductive smile grew on her face, and she whispered in his ear. 

       “
Wildman anti-perspirant makes a beast of every woman.” At that, she turned around, then slinked away back in to the crowd.  Lance stood, stunned. Embarrassed, he looked around at the other passengers, but they stood as if nothing unusual had happened. Perhaps it was an advert. If Spamblock kept out such events, then they could keep it. He beamed, despite himself.