Sleep, perchance.

[Redesine]

((This is my first (written) AO story. Feedback would be brilliant if anyone at all has any! The title is a working title, suggestions there would be great too.))


‘Rubi Ka?’

Rojer looks up from a stack of papers, nodding at the face above him. It’s cracked into a grin that looks about to break into sincere laughter. Is it really that funny? The face continues.

‘I know it’s the in-thing, but… not really your thing is it, Red? I always thought you were a pacifist.’

Rojer calmly watches the face shatter into a surprisingly loud guffaw. It really wasn’t that funny, but Rojer smiles regardless, studying the attachments to this face. It’s human… Good. At least that’s one box checked. But still; just another medium sized, dark-haired man wearing a shirt and tie. Oh wait, actually it’s John. A little switch somewhere in Rojer’s brain flicks to “Friend Mode” and his smile widens by a few millimetres. It has been like this for the last few weeks; like a drone, an automaton going through the motions of the day until the sleepless nights. The increasingly familiar face continues its own drone.

‘And what kind of name is Redesine? Seriously? You’re off to write a book and you change your name? That’s just awfully cliche.’

 ‘I just want to get away from all this for a bit,’ Rojer gestures around, summing up his life in one swoop. The paper, the tiny desks, the grid terminals for accessing as much crap from the public domain as a clerical research assistant needs to in a short amount of time. A miniscule, rod shaped copying machine on his desk, the kind that you only have to touch with a piece of paper and it will rip the form from your hands, send it through the grid across the planet to every person unfortunate enough to be connected, through subspace across the galaxy for filing as well as churn out one hundred hard copies and wish you a pleasant day… all without asking. He looks at its “designed for all your spatial needs” shape with a kind of loathing. ‘Leave everything behind, you know?’

He is avoiding the truth and knows it. Such a clichéd response to dodge some of the real questions here. The truth is… well for a start he doesn’t feel comfortable with his name any more, not since… not since The Nights started. A disturbing realisation made early on with his nocturnal experiences. One he won’t admit to himself when thinking about it, but he knows. He can’t help but know. The fact follows him everywhere, relentlessly. But some good has come from this. A talent. A skill near unrivalled in his eyes to mask the worries so well that he can convince himself to believe there is nothing wrong. As long as he isn’t alone that is. He hates being alone. Not that he ever truly is. But that’s when things start leaking through to the surface and his face begins to show the effects of his insomnia. It’s not like he doesn’t ever sleep. But there is never a deep sleep. Not the kind of sleep that you feel like you have actually woken up at the end of, rather than just continued your life on a different level of unconsciousness.

‘Hey, what are you still doing here anyway? Didn’t you have a meeting at One?’

He does. Damn. And it’s ten to One now.

*Extract from the short novel “Twice and the world remembers” by Rojer Redesine. Copyright: 29481. (Chapter 2):*

My name is Derek Vaughn and I am dead.

The thing I can’t figure out is; am I dead right now? Was it me? Am I alive until I die, or did I already die long before I realised I had?

Okay, let’s get this straight. Obviously at some point I will die. I’m not stupid and I realise that, unless of course I find an ingenious way of… well that’s beside the point. Not entirely beside the point, but enough to skip past and move on for now. The point is this: What if you see yourself die? I don’t mean in some kind of dream or vision but actually see it happen. Surely that means you’re dead. And yes, I’m sure it happened. I’m sure I died and I’m sure it was me that died. How do I know? Because I was the one who killed myself.

How did I manage to kill myself and still be writing this? I honestly don’t know the full story yet. Hopefully I will in time. I’ve always believed that a man writes makes his own destiny and I think… I hope… that’s how it will stay. To not be in charge of your own life is a terrible thing. In today’s world (at least in some places, I can’t speak for the whole world.) we accept certain things to be a given. It seems like someone comes along once in a while and points that out even though everyone knows it’s not always true.

*End of Extract.*

Rojer runs to the meeting place. He knows where it is. Does he? He keeps running regardless. He’s late, what else is there to do? He needs to get that commission. He needs to get to Rubi-Ka. He needs to write that book. No he doesn’t, he doesn’t care about the book, just Rubi-Ka. The book is the way there.

He sees the book rounding the corner in front of him. It’s gone! He runs faster, muscles burning. The sign in a window as he runs past says “Here”. He runs to the next window. The sign says “Here”. It’s the same window. He tries to put his foot down for the next step and fails. He can’t move. Nothing moves. None of the people, the vehicles. He watches their stillness and the air changes. It’s colder, the clouds change to a darker shade.

A sound drifts on the still air, the droning note of a bowed cello that throbs in his mind. It’s the only sound but there is no music. In his head someone laughs at him. A callous laugh as he is rooted to the spot. He needs to get away. It’s coming. A tendril of malice, arcing its way through the galaxy towards this very spot. He knows it will get here soon. It will be everywhere soon, it seeks him out, no matter where he is. There’s no escape, no hiding…

Rojer opens his eyes to his familiar ceiling. Even in the dark he knows where he is. He can feel the warm bed sheets, clammy from his anxiety. The room is dark. The only light comes from the heavily curtained, small window. Lights from the city cast gloomy blue shadows over his room. He is still sweating, a cold sweat against the warm sheets as he remembers his dream and looks around the empty room. There is no one there. No one can be hiding in the shadows, he would know. There is only him, his dreams and the darkness. He sits up to look around some more.

‘Are you there?’ He waits for the reply.

‘I’m always here.’

[Redesine]

Rojer cranes his neck and looks around for a port-hole. There isn’t one. Shame. He sits up looks behind him anyway as if expecting to see something miraculous at the back of the dark cabin and a woman two rows aft of him frowns. He once had an interesting conversation with someone about how the nature of what you observe while travelling through subspace affects how you are travelling through space and time. The woman pipes up:

‘Do you mind?’

Rojer grins apologetically and turns back. The drone of the engines feels comforting as he relaxes back into his seat, letting the vibrations pass through him as he closes his eyes. It feels like every second of travel in this direction is a weight from his shoulders. It feels right.

He turns on his wrist datapad and pulls up the Omni-Tek Rubi-Ka recruitment page he’d found: “Rubi-Ka: where death isn’t fatal!” No, it just wouldn’t do to work for Omni-Tek. He has a book to write… and needs time to explore. Plus it’s just generally better to steer clear of conflict where possible. He chuckles ironically to himself, causing the woman behind to sigh loudly. Besides, it seems easy enough to pick up work as a neutral citizen. He pulls up another page about freelance jobs on Rubi-Ka. Apparently there are literally job-vending terminals. “Work is now only a few credits away.” Great… wait, what? Chuckling again, he listens out for the sound of grinding teeth. Well who can blame her? It is late. Well at least it’s late according to the time that had been kept by the ship’s crew. All that means really is the difference between the lights being on or off.

It is a small ship and a bit cramped. Reclining seats arranged into rows with just enough space between them for the “reclined” state to result in a relatively comfortable sleep. That is assuming you like sleeping in a chair. Rojer doesn’t. But this suits him fine. He doesn’t expect to sleep, not yet. Looking around he guesses that most of these people already have a contract with Omni-Tek. Some of them may even have intentions to defect to the Clans or neutral territory as soon as they disembark. He had done a small amount of research into people that wanted to travel to Rubi-Ka and why. Apparently, although the planet is not overtly popular with those that chose to emigrate (The dangers of the harsh environment, various conflicts and not to mention an alien invasion are all well-known.), Rubi-Ka had captured people’s imaginations in a kind of cult romantic way. People had this fantasy about going out into the harsh wilderness of the still largely desert planet and staking their claim on the Notum. It sounds misguided, but deep down everyone has their romantic ideas.

Leaning back, he adjusts his seat to the reclined position. He’s sure it only moved ten degrees, maximum. But it’s not a worry. Rojer settles back as they continue the journey, eyes closed enjoying the vibrations with a smile.

*Extract from the short novel “Twice and the world remembers” by Rojer Redesine. Copyright: 29481. (Chapter 1):*

My name is Paul Herbert and I am already dead.

But I am not Derek Vaughn, not by a long way. At least, not yet. Even the act of sitting and writing this seems to condemn me to the same fate as him. I really don’t know why I’m writing this, With each word that passes I bring myself closer to the madness of inevitability. I try to ask myself what difference it would make if I didn’t write down these thoughts and the answer is always the same: It doesn’t make any. So why write? It doesn’t matter whether I do or not, I already know I’m dead. Or maybe it does matter, then that would mean I have no choice to act on. Maybe I already have written this, I just have to go through the process of realising it.

Confused? So was I at first.

*End of extract.*

A young woman smiles at Rojer. Her smile is nothing like he has seen before. Full of passion and love, she seems truly happy and yet turns to look behind her. He walks beside her and takes her hand, studying her face. It’s the prettiest face he has ever seen, slightly pointed, elfin features stands against the smooth, soft skin, full lips and watery eyes. Is she crying? He reaches up to stroke a tear from the soft, grey cheek and she releases his hand, pointing into the distance. He follows her hand with his gaze and looks out over the landscape.

It’s a green place, dulled by shadows of islands that seem connected by nothing, floating on the on a cloudlike sea. But the water is everywhere; it surrounds this place, flows through it. He can’t tell where the liquid becomes air; they seem to be the same as he looks up seeing the islands above him casting their shadows. Hiding behind them is an unearthly light of many colours. A swirl of ignited gas trying in vain to dispel the shadows. Only the tops of the tallest trees catch the soft light as it falls, making them shine a divine radiance like no other tree. The white branches extend indefinitely upwards never faltering, never falling, but never reaching the source of the light.

She turns back to him and reaches up, standing on her toes and giving him a kiss, salty from sorrow. She falls back down and looks at him, through him, inside him, opening her mouth to speak one whispered word.

‘Here.’

Rojer opens his eyes. The cabin lights are back on and there is a sound of general murmuring from the passengers. There are no vibrations from the engines any more. Shame. The intercom buzzes into life and the voice of the Captain is heard, almost a whisper, definitely anxious.

‘Sorry for the delay here folks. Err… We’re in Rubi-Kan space but we’re just going to have to sit tight for a bit. Then hopefully we’ll be headin’ on into orbit and being cleared to make a decent to the surface. I’ll keep ya posted.’

The intercom clicks off and the murmur from inside the cabin intensifies. Rojer leans back and tries to listen, picking up a word from the ambience: ‘Aliens’. He sits back up again, suddenly worried. No, there is always a fair influx of new colonists to the planet, it probably wasn’t likely… not what he was worried about. Was it?

He can hear a throbbing, the wavelike rise and fall of an unidentified sound so deep it feels more like just his bones resonating. Is it real? Well it can’t exactly be coming from outside the ship. He tries to calm himself down, realising the pain from his fingernails digging into his palms. He feels his heat beating hard against his chest. Maybe that’s where the throbbing noise is coming from. His breathing is shaky as he can’t help but consciously thinking about his breathing. He can’t understand it. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

The blast comes unexpected by everyone. Rojer feels his body move without his asking it to and watches a sea of limbs around him, thrown to the port side. He hits hard. A bright light flashes across his eyes as his head slams into the port baggage rail above the seats. He hears a high pitched ringing and is only vaguely aware of the uncomfortable position of his body. He watches calmly as people scream, being thrown around the cabin. He realises he’s not moving any more, wedged on the floor under a seat, watching the cabin lights grow dim. It’s not even time to sleep yet, why are they turning out the lights? The last thing he sees before blacking out is that face, the beautiful one from his dream close to his own. The last thing he feels is her soft lips on his. The last thing he hears is two whispered words:

‘Not yet.’

[Avyloran]

Very good, with lots of levels. I wouldn't change a thing. 

As for the title, thats good too. Only change I would make to it would be 'Sleep, perchance...' rather than just 'Sleep, perchance.' since it is the first two words of a longer quote.

It is worth waiting till you can post it on FC forums under the name you intend to use permanently...and don't post both episodes at once...leave them wanting more for a bit first heheh. 

[Llesa Varela]

Very good style and a nice introduction to your character. More please

[Redesine]

Thanks both It's really high praise when coming from you guys.

I emailed FC about the forums issue last week but still haven't heard anything. :/

Been busy this week but episode 3 (maybe 4) should be done this weekend.

[Redesine]

Rojer's head itches, but he tries to ignore it. Instead he looks around at the sky, the buildings and the ground. All grey... and wet. It's raining on Rubi-Ka, the harsh desert planet. The drizzle weighs down Rojer's normally spiked hair, soaking his bandage and drips into his eyes as he takes in the sights and sounds of the city of Borealis. He feels a nudge from behind him and turns to face the doctor from the shuttle.

’It'll get better.’

Rojer raises an eyebrow, wondering how she knows... ‘Hmm?’

’The grogginess.’ She points to Rojer's still blood and rain soaked bandage around his head. He'd forgotten about it for a few minutes, trying to ignore the tingling from the nanobots doing their work. The pretty, solitus doctor had taken great delight in injecting him with all kinds of unknown things in the shuttle. Now she bends over him as she inspects his bandage and Rojer bites his lip, trying to look anywhere else but twoards the low-cut white medic's suit. Instead he goes back to studying where he had ended up. It's still grey. But the people are colourful, as is their language. He watches as a heated argument that had been going on between two huge Atroxes escalates into all-out violence, mace versus axe as they continuously pound each other’s expensive-looking armour. Blood begins to mix with the falling water, creating a small scarlet stream meandering towards the boot of a guard in an Omni-Pol uniform, who stops to watch the fight for a few seconds before continuing his stroll.

’Actually, now we're on the surface...’ The doctor's hands start glowing red as a stream of nanobots eject themselves from her body and make straight for Rojer's, diving into his chest. He feels a tightening of his skin as they immediately begin their pre-programmed work on him, converging into a focal point somewhere in his head and closes his eyes against the brief pressure.

’Yeah, you'll get used to that,’ Says the doctor, noticing Rojer's squint. It was a lot more intense nanobot experience than he'd had before. But that's the kind of thing to expect on Rubi-Ka he guesses, and he smiles a thank you to the doctor while prodding at his head. The wound feels tender, but he can feel the skin has grown back. He unwraps his head from the bandage and attempts to re-mess up his flattened hair.

He turns back to watch the doctor bustle on her way to stick things in other injured people from the shuttle then looks away suppressing a grin as she bends over another patient.

’Oh!’

Rojer swivels at the new sound, fighting off a sudden wave of giddiness. He spots the young looking opifex woman standing behind him. Is she that young? She's skinny and short, unusually short, but not quite enough to assume that she's using a size-reducing nanoprogram. Either way, Rojer decides it's best not to comment. She's standing unusually upright though, looking at a point on his shoulder with wide eyes. She raises her right hand, with a mug of what looks like coffee in to point at Rojer, spilling some of it on the floor.

’You're new!’

Rojer watches the coffee spill, making no vapour in the humid air. It must be stone cold. ‘Kind of.’ he replies. ‘Why?’

***********

Termination of sessions report.
Client ID: 523476
Counsellor: Dr B Marrok
Date: 2nd April 29477

(To be completed by the counsellor) Please explain and expand on the reasons why paid sessions with this client were ended by yourself:

Amy is a lovely, if frustrating, girl. But I have come to understand that the price of her sessions may not outweigh the damage caused to my office and conversation area... not to mention Mrs Simms' mental health. Poor Mrs. Simms, who is rather sensitive about her general appearance, has had to endure much querying after the things that live in her hair, her skin problems (I which I believe may involve some kind of fungus) and other such nonsense that a receptionist should not have to suffer while clients are waiting for their sessions. As for physical destruction; fortunately the collateral damage that occurred during an unsuccessful hunt for a shadowleet in my office was not too extensive and was covered in my general repairs and upgrades budget.

However, if this were to continue, I would have no choice but to send her the bill. If she brings that darned rifle into the sessions again (which by the way, I swear is at least a foot taller than she is) then that could be a bill of such extent that I would be saddened to send it to a client. All-in-all I'm afraid to say that, although I have found my time with Amy to be often enjoyable, the decision to end the sessions-plan has become a question of damage-control. I have wished Amy all the best and parted on good terms, giving her numerous references to our unsuspecting colleagues of similar fields.

***********

‘You have to be careful round here,’ The young Opifex seemed to be pointing at an arbitrary point on the ground. Rojer looks down, wondering why he agreed to this tour. He opens his mouth to ask why he needs to be careful of a puddle, but had come to learn that questions are a bad idea with this particular tour guide. She continues regardless, ‘They let leets wander round here you see.’

‘What are they? Are they dangerous?’ He realises what he's done too late and braces himself.

‘Don't you know?’ She says, turning an accusing frown at him before carrying on, ‘Sometimes they are, sometimes they aren't. But you can never tell when. People say that they all have diseases and things. I caught bloodboil fever from one once - that's where your face keeps going red. It wasn't nice, people were laughing at me. But that's not the worst thing. The worst thing is the ones you can't see! They only live in dark, shadowy places you see. I'm not sure if you can hear them or not, but if you hear a squeaking, it's usually a good idea to start firing your gun in all directions, just in case. Do you have a gun yet?’

‘No, I don't, sorry.’

‘Oh you'll need one... here, have two.’ She roots in her bag for a second and pulls out two pistols. ‘I use this big rifle now you see, I don't like getting too close to those things.’ Rojer smiles and accepts the pistols, he'd heard that it was actually a good idea to be defensively equipped on Rubi-Ka. He puts them away and looks up; straight into the barrel of a huge blue rifle that had appeared in place of the cup of cold coffee. He quickly steps to the side, noticing how the young woman is struggling to hold it out, her finger shaking around the trigger. ‘Like it?’ Rojer nods, realising that it actually isn't as big as he'd first thought, but it does seem to be significantly taller than her.

‘Yeah, it's kind of... blue though.’ He decides not to mention how much it looks like a child's water gun. Still thinking along those lines, he checks the pistols again, pulling out their clips. Bullets... Good. That could have been emabrassing if he needed them in a tight spot, only to find that a small stream of water wasn't the best defense.

Looking up again, the girl is walking towards a metal box with the word “NEWLAND” on a blue sign above its doors. ‘This is a wom-pah.’ She stares at the box a second. ‘I don't know how it works... Oh by the way... you'll want to get yourself into an org, they're usually really helpful for new people and they'll help get you jobs and stuff.’

‘Oh right okay, are you in an org?’

‘No,’ She sighs, ‘None will let me join for some reason.’ With that she walks at the doors, which admit her with a “whom” and with a “pah”, she disappears into the blue light inside, leaving Rojer standing alone wondering whether or not to follow her. He can only guess that this is some kind of teleportation transport system. Fortunately he'd seen something similar before. Not being able to think of anything better to do, he sighs and steps through the doors.

***********

Extract from the manuscripts and notes of Rojer Redesine:

DAY 2:

‘Welcome to Rubi-Ka! Please enjoy your visit and take time to arrange a meeting for us with your leader. Thank you for listening.’ At least that's what I assume the friendly message was from the alien ship firing on our shuttle as soon as we entered Rubi-Kan space. Apparantly it's not at all unusual for the aliens to greet newcomers with such open arms. It's also not exactly something Omni-Tek advertises in their recruitment propaganda, along with the reminder that Insurance Technology will not cover you until you've actually landed on the planet and paid for it. Something that seems obvious really, but that's one of the things that was going through my mind. It seems sad that a number of people must be killed this way, so close to the only planet where their death wouldn't bother them so much. So that was one of the first things I did when I got here; bought myself some insurance. Well... I say it was one of the first things I did. But in reality it took me quite a while to learn what the insurance terminals actually looked like.

My tourguide seemed much more interested in telling me about all the weird creatures that could eat me or give me various diseases. Not that I wasn't grateful of course. She was a very sweet girl who took the time to show me round. She did show me all the bars she knew of though. At least that was one useful thing. She told me how to get hold of her before looking at me with a shocked expression, saying "Oh!" and vanishing from right in front of me, leaving me in a place called Last Ditch. I'm going to talk to her again though, or at least try. She did actually seem nice. So that's the plan tonight. Get her into the Reet's Retreat and buy her a thank you drink. Then tomorrow I'm going to go for a look round Jobe.

***********

‘Why don't you come to find me now?’

She looks at Rojer with those eyes so vivid. There's a pleading look to them. ‘I can't, not right now.’

‘You can.’ She turns away from him, hair slowly following her movement, as if she's submerged in deep, water. The currents catch the strands of her long hair, playing with them, slowly twisting them around, whimsically tugging at them. Rojer takes a step closer to her, fighting against the resistance of the liquid atmosphere.

‘I will, but I'm here right now.’ She turns back towards him and nods. Rojer looks past her to see what she was looking at. A herd of small horse-like creatures shimmer white as they play beneath a tower of the same colour. A colour that threatens the rest of the surroundings. On all sides the hills rise into mountains, standing guard against the weak light that tries so hard to flood the valley. The trees are dense, looking into them he can tell there are other things there, hiding, waiting unseen. ‘Here?’

‘No, you don't need to come here. Not yet. But I think you will.’ Rojer nods. He will. He wants so much to come here. It's beautiful and melancholy, exactly like her. And the tower, he longs to visit the tower, climb the spiral steps inside, guiding her up. Is she okay with heights? It doesn't matter, he's sure she'll want to come with him.

The spiral staircase is hard to climb through the thick liquid air. He has her hand but feels like he's carrying her; the further up the heavier she becomes. He stands still, watching the spirals up above him, twisting away, further and further. He reaches his free hand towards the top, stretching his body between the two poles of his hands. Hers is pulling hard now, slipping through his fingers. It hurts to hold on and as their fingers are torn apart he hears her voice from the distance.

‘Now you can find me.’

Rojer opens his eyes.

Last Ditch. Is it? It's still blurry. He rubs his eyes. Yes, definitely. This is where Amy Gelswood left him the previous evening. This is where she said she might be this evening. Not that it matters entirely. He was hoping to buy her a drink as a thank you, but it'd be good to meet some more people too. The Reet's Retreat looks like a fairly big place as he stands back from the door to get a better look, tripping over an empty market stall and sprawling on the ground.

‘Oh!’

A hand reaches down for him. He takes it gratefully, but only succeeds in pulling the slight figure of Amy on top of him. She springs back up and stares with wide eyes as he untangles himself from the stall and stands back up.

‘Hi,’ He says with a grin, ‘Thanks.’ She seems to be staring at a point on his chest. He looks down expecting to find a piece of tomato or something that had been left in the market stall and attached itself to him during his brief encounter. But there isn't anything. Just his slightly dusty back jacket. ‘I guess I'm not entirely as clean as I normally am when meeting people for a drink, sorry.’ He chuckles.

‘Yes, you should clean that stuff... there's all kinds of things you can get from the floor here. Lots of leets around you know.’

He bites his lip, ‘I'll bet.’ With a quick brushing down of his clothes and re-messing of his hair he looks up with a smile. ‘So I wanted to buy you a drink, you know, as a thank you for the tour. It was... educational.’

‘Oh I don't drink. I'm not allowed.’ Rojer opens his mouth to offer her a coffee instead, as cold as he can get it, but doesn't get to speak. A group of people round the nearby corner that second, causing Amy to squeak and jump backwards into different market stall, falling right into a Box. Judging by the leaves and other residue, it had contained some kind of fruit earlier that day. Rojer laughs and feels good about being able to offer his hand this time. She takes it and is easily pulled up to her feet.

‘Thank you... I'll speak to you later.’ She gives him a look that makes him feel bad about laughing before turning and running away, leaving Rojer to look at the small dust trail she left behind her in her haste.

He sighs and shakes his head as he opens the door to the Reet's Retreat and walks in.

[Llesa Varela]

I like it. It keeps the reader's attention. Good job

Now I want more plox.   

[Avyloran]

eah, this should be on Buzz. If you are unable to now perhaps one of us couldpost it on your behalf. Or it could wait till you come back   

[Redesine]

His NCU flashed a signal to Rojer's occular symbiant as he sat dozing in the shade of a rock. Another popup ad? Ah no, this was what he'd been waiting for - some good news. He accpeted the image and the desert scene faded to peripheral awareness as a graphical display took over. An image of Rubi-Ka from orbit appeared with a curving purple line and blinking red dots. The NCU program fed his brain symbiant with numbers and coordinates as it tracked a trajectory through Rubi-Ka's upper atmosphere. An extrapolated white line appeared, coutesy of his brain symbiant, showing a point of impact approximately two hours parrot flight away. Not bad. The program had taken a fair amount of setting up, not to mention the dodgy fixers that were involved. Looks like it might pay off though.

***********

Penumbra's harsh cold air and blinding light rushes over and engulfs him as he steps out of the white building. Shapes seem to expand out of the glare, vague forms at first then more detail, the treetops of the forest, the opposite wing of the temple, a trox. The atrox nods and beckons, his face cracked and burned in places, the semi-smile not quite readable behind his glasses. Rojer walks slowly over as the atrox leans back on the temple wall and takes a long pull on a cigarette.

"She spoke to you too?" He asks, the exhaled smoke adding to the icy water vapour floating upwards.

"Yes. Well... I think so." The Ecclesiast had not been completely clear on that.

"They like to keep you guessing."

***********

The flight over the vast desert outside the biosphere was tough. His chest symbiant was working overtime to filter the air, but there was plenty of time to get there, collect what he needed and use a beacon to warp the stuff to Newland. He should even have enough time for the return flight if he couldn't teleport himself back with it.

The craft should be crashing round about now. His NCU program had alerted him to the sudden change of trajectory of an orbiting craft. He didn't know what had happened, but it was probably an Omni-Tek craft... and probably due to aliens. And with a little luck, he'd be the first on the scene.

***********

"They're using you, you know." The trox takes another drag and inhales deeply. "And it won't work. It never does." Rojer feels a sadness tugging his throat. "They've come this far, and no further. Same as us. Same as you. You feel like you've progressed, grown?" Rojer doesn't have time to answer before he continues. "Call it your shadowbreed or whatever you like, it's the same for everyone. Some get closer than others, but we all feel it out here, this close. Rubi-Ka changes you. Doesn't matter if you're Omni, Clan or whatever."

***********

An hour and a half later, he'd arrived at the still smoking crash site. Bits of engine and other unitentifiable bits of shuttle craft were strewn, burning around an elongated, charred crater. The hull looked in pretty good shape though. Pretty much completely intact. In fact, beneath some of the charring, Rojer could make out the Omni-Tek and Omni-Trans symbols looking down at him.

It was a small cargo shuttle craft. The kind used to ferry supplies between the Omni-Tek cities and the vast freighters that hung in Rubi-Ka orbit. He cancelled the parrot morph and quickly scanned for a way in. There was a small emergency escape hatch on the starboard bow that was at ground level due to the way the hull was leaning, but more inviting was the portside crew door that seemed to have come partially open in the landing. He scrambled up the blackened outer hull to the door, wrenching it open.

He stood there for a second sending a message to his occular symbiant to adjust for the dark and waited to see the walkway that should be sloping slightly down away from him. An echoing groan sounded from inside.

***********

"When was the last time you slept?" Asks the trox, looking hard at Rojer.

"I'm not sure. I could be right now for all I know. Am I?"

"Only if I am, too." says the trox, taking a drag down to his fingernails. "You've got to try and let it go though. It won't do you any good."

"What?"

"You know what. You reckon you're 'the chosen one' or something?" Rojer stays quiet, the way they'd spoken to him... "Well you're not. Let me guess: Colonist? Felt like something was 'calling you'? Bet you even felt like something was trying to stop you, yeah? Shuttle shot down or something like that?"

"Well yes, actually, it was. But lots of shuttles get hit."

"Yeah. But do you atually remember it going down?"

Rojer bites his lip and shivers against the cold.

"Who are you anyway?" Rojer asks.

The trox grins as the glare increases to a blinding level again. The shapes slip out of view into the solid light.

***********

Inside the shuttle was dark, wet and hot. The fires must've been put out automaticcally. He took a second to run a perception buff against the gloom and crept on towards the cockpit and the noise.

The small bulkhead to the flight deck was buckled slightly, twisted as something had fallen against it from the other side. It took a bit of levering, but Rojer managed to get it open enough... at least enough to slide through in leet form.

Cancelling the buff he surveyed the cockpit. A lot of the equipment had come loose at some point and been blasted around the deck during the crash. Something that was now just a mass of tangled pipes, wires and twisted metal had slammed against the bulkhead door on its way down by the looks of it. The emergency escape hatch he'd seen from the outside was nowhere to be found. What he could see though, were the bodies of two crewmembers in mangled Trans uniforms.

Something groaned again.

Making his way towards the noise he found another trans uniform on the ground, this time occupied by a live opifex. The opifex opened his eyes to look at Rojer as he got close.

"Oh, thank David." His words were strained. "You got here quick." He indicated his trapped and bleeding leg under a terminal. Nanobots and a makeshift tourniquet had failed to stop the blood flow completely.

"It's okay." Said Rojer, giving the room another quick visual sweep. "This is just an up-and-down supplies shuttle, right?"

"Yeah, just three crew. The others... there's just me."

Rojer nodded, his hand sliding to his waist. "So you have insurance, then? You haven't been offworld long?"

"What? Err... yeah, just went up yesterday."

Rojer pulled his stolen Jobe Explorer pistol out of its holster and pointed it at the opifex.

"Great." He said and emptied the clip into the other man's head, reloading as the body slumped back down.

Rubi-Ka had certainly changed him.