Post by Squall on Jan 24, 2007 1:21:51 GMT -5
Prologue
Mankind has looked back throughout history for its inspiration. Historians have been born and made the study of history a lifestyle, and for what? One answer: To make a better future. Man believes that we must look back to gain sight on what is ahead, to make a better tomorrow, to make a better man, to make a better woman, to make a better habitat. Mankind has no limit on what it desires to dominate. But who do we fight against? Who do we race against? Who is our villain, for surely we must be the good guys right?
The villain is, in all reality, our only ally in our race towards perfection. Nature, evolution, time; they are our allies. They do not look back at what they have done but only to what they will do. They do not look at their past mistakes to ensure future perfection, instead to the future at what they will and want. Nature, too, is in a race against mankind, a race to fix what man has faulted.
In this race, nature has created us. We are the next step in human evolution. Are we mutants? HAHA, No. This is not a comic book. We do not wear costumes or come out with appropriate little clichés or witty banter. We do not float about on magnetic fields or leap tall buildings in single bounds. We are neither faster than the speed of light nor are we strong enough to toss the Statue of Liberty across half a continent. What we are is still a mystery. I suppose if you wanted to categorize us, we have come to be Psion’s. We are aware of the potential of the human mind and therefore are aware of forces around us, once outside of our control.
And what kind of powers do we have? I guess that’s where my story comes in now, isn’t it……
Chapter One
The sound of crunching snow under boot was enough to bring Darius out of his sleep and dream. This time it was the base nurse in the warm Bahamas, sipping fruity cocktails and gazing lazily into each others eyes longing for the all too familiar kiss. “Couldn’t you go and crunch closer to the tree line Barton?” First Sergeant Christopher Barton smiled and looked down at his comrade. “Having dreams again Voldir?” Barton’s thick British accent always seemed right at times like this, condescending and judgmental. “Yes, and I was warm too.” “Really? Who was it this time Darius, Corporal Gaires or Private Nottes?” Darius sighed at his, now lost, image and glanced up at First Sergeant Barton before the shine of the harsh morning temporarily blinded his sensitive eyes. Darius’ response was a lazy half-hearted mumble. “The civilian nurse back at base camp.” Barton’s voice was a sharp tone of unbelief, “No, you mean the one with the red hair?” Darius laughed, almost loud enough to cause an echo. “No, no, the blonde with the cute little strand of hair going down her face.” “Oh! You mean Miss Ally. Yeah I know the one now. I can see how you would want to go back to sleep eh?” The two men laughed at this half-joke until Barton’s eyes caught a glimpse of something upon the horizon.
The time it took for the men to drop to the cold ground, pull out their respective gear and both get a clean sight on whatever it was that caught the others eye was less than a second. Darius deftly and quietly operated the bolt on his M1903A4 sniper rifle and took aim, Barton, on the other hand, peered out a pair of non-reflective binoculars. With one hand on his binocs and the other on Darius’ leg, Barton began to signal what it was he saw: two glints about 60 yards down hill at their 10 o’clock position.
Their orders were: Do not get captured. Do not engage the enemy. Reconnaissance and observation only.
“What d’ya say, D.J., tak’em or leave them?”
Darius’ stare was an unblinking gaze magnified by two pieces of bent glass. Then a shot rang out. Birds, in a nearby roost took flight. A second shot exploded into the air followed by minutes of total silence. Nature seemed to take a surprised gasp of air as a strong wind blew through the trees, the snow and the hillside.
“Russia’s cold, Barton. Let’s move camp before it gets colder.”
“I’m right be’ind ya boss.”
Darius had never heard Barton use slang before, then again, most people never hear Barton talk at all.
……:******:……
The mono-colored lockers, walls and lighting were a sight for sore eyes, or in Darius’ case, snow blinded eyes. He had to admit, he didn’t care much for the greens and yellows of most army bases, but when you’re always on military loan to the highest bidder, or whichever one of Uncle Sam’s nephews needs you the most, color became a negotiable item. He threw his pack on one of the changing benches and opened a locker.
“Long day Sergeant?”
Darius looked up to see his current C/O and immediately stood at full attention.
“As you were.”
“Thank you sir.” Darius pulled out his standard issue duffle bag and began putting his personal effects inside.
“You were exceptional out there Sergeant Major. You should be pleased with your self.”
Darius did not look up but instead continued to fill his bag. “I should be.” Was all he could say.
“You did what you had to do, you know.”
Darius sighed, paused then turned. “Permission to speak freely sir?”
“OK”
“Captain Wiers, I have never in my life left anyone behind. I have always been first in and last out. I am the opener and the cleaner. Losing a man like Barton..” Darius paused to prevent too much emotion. “..Is unacceptable. Even in war.”
“Casualties happen everyday Sergeant. You can not expect to save everyone.”
“Then perhaps I’m in the wrong line of business, eh. Captain?”
“Well then Sergeant, I’m sure you will welcome this bit of news. Your request for extended furlough has been granted. As soon as you get back stateside, you will have one month all to yourself. I’m sure you need that time to re-evaluate your position in the United States Military.”
Captain Wiers handed Darius an envelope containing his vacation papers. Darius looked at the envelope with a longing in his eyes.
“I do and I will.”
“Enjoy your vacation son.”
The two men saluted and the Captain left Darius to his packing.
Out of all the things he could have taken out of his time in Europe, the death of a good friend was not on his top ten list. If truth be told, Darius only wished he could have taken out that cute little nurse, what was her name?
“Sergeant?”
“Nurse Ally.”
“You do remember me!”
“I’m sorry what?” Darius seemed to be more in a small daze than in recognition.
“I just wanted to tell you good bye. I hear you’re leaving back for the states.”
“Yes that’s right.”
“Well salute old Liberty for me. I miss her.” Her smile was like that of the moon on those cold nights in Russia. Bright and big.
“Will do.” Darius returned her smile with his own. “How much longer are you to be stationed here?”
“I’m only supposed to be here until the end of the year.”
“Well that’s not too bad then, you only have another month.” Darius tried to instill her with that lost hope of freedom. “Then you can be back home and you can salute her yourself.”
She sat herself next to him as he began the finishing bits of his packing.
“I suppose you’re right. But how often does our great Uncle Sam change his mind and keep all his nephews and nieces right where they are?”
Darius chuckled at the truthfulness of her statement.
“Yeah well, you can never lose hope, right?”
“I guess not.” He words did not mach her vocal enthusiasm, sad and disheartened.
“Cheer up Ally, you’ll get back home.” He patted her shoulder, and wished he could do more. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, taking his hand into hers.
“I know. I know I will.”
Darius pulled his hand back after a long moment and threw his toothbrush and toothpaste, his last belongings, into his bag and pulled the draw strings.
“Listen, if you’re ever in the New York area, give me a ring. You can find my number at almost any base on the eastern seaboard.”
“O.K. Sergeant, I will.”
The two exchanged smiles and farewells and departed ways.
……:******:……
Supply planes were consistently flying in and out of the states, so why not hitch a ride? The fact that Darius was bundled up like an Eskimo is why. This is defiantly not his idea of first class accommodations, but they should do. All he cared about was getting back home to the land of the free and this was the fastest way to get there. The flight left from 3 hours ago so he should be in New York in another 4-5 hours, plenty of time for a little nap. He pulled his duffel bag up and closed his eyes for some much needed shut-eye.
If only through a haze, he could still see the images with detail. There he stood, on the all too familiar Times Square on New York’s Broadway, but it seemed distant, different, busier if that was possible. Cars passed by on either side of him in a blur of streamlined arrows. Large government issued personnel vehicles rumbled passed, but they looked to be made for civilian use. From behind him Darius heard a loud thumping sound, like muffled tank cannon fire in rapid succession. He spun around to see a car that looked like some kind of yellow and red spaceship with wheels. The wheels seemed to spin independently of the tires. The vehicle stopped at a red light yet the wheels continued to rotate. The windows were darkened so he could not see in but the sound certainly came from this vehicle.
Then he noticed the skyline itself. Light seemed to come from the sky and he could not determine if what he was seeing were stars or lights from the buildings high above his head. The images that flashed in front of his face of Coca-Cola, Sony and other companies that he had never heard of caused him to stand in awe.
Where was he, another planet? Perhaps they flew through the Bermuda Triangle and he was now in the future or another kind of reality. “Hey man. Can I get a smoke from you?” Darius turned his head, still in amazement. “I’m sorry?” “A smoke, cigarette, you know, nicotine man.” Darius stood bewildered at the scraggly looking fellow who appeared to be wearing army issue clothing. “I…” He stammered his words. “I don’t smoke.” The scraggly man huffed and walked over to a woman who was lighting a cigarette and started a conversation with her, presumably to ask her for a smoke as well. Darius reached out and tapped a passer-by on the arm. When the woman who was wearing a business suit turned he asked her what the date is. “It’s the 8th.” “The 8th of what?” She looked at him disgustedly then answered. “July.” “Oh, Thank you.” He replied, with uncertainty in his voice. The woman walked off in a hurry.
Darius walked over to a trash bin and peered inside for a newspaper. When he found one he tried without success to make out the year. “Excuse me, Sergeant?” Darius turned towards the voice but saw no one. “Sergeant, we’re here.” Looking franticly around, Darius could find no one who would be talking to him. “Who’s there?” he called out to the disembodied voice. “It’s me Sergeant, We’re in New York.” Darius felt a sharp pain inside of him like a large knife twisting and wrenching his intestines out. “No, this can’t be. Where are you? What happened here?” “Sergeant?” The voice seemed to be closer and more authoritative. Darius began to grab at other passer-bys in an attempt to find the owner of the voice. “Please, just tell me where I am?” The feeling was panic. “Sergeant?” The voice continued. “Sergeant?!” piercing his head like a hot brand. “Sergeant?!” Darius couldn’t stand it any more. He opened his mouth and screamed out to whoever the voice belonged to, wherever it was coming from.
“Restrain him!” A man called out.
“I can’t!” A second man said shortly afterwards with labored breathing.
“WAKE UP! GET ON YOUR FEET SOLDIER!”
Darius opened his eyes and there he was, on the supply craft. After wiping his eyes clean he realized he was surrounded by the crew and base commander. At once Darius stood up and saluted.
“It seems you were having a hell of a dream Sergeant. Care to tell me what it was about?” Darius stared past the B/C and felt more shock than in his apparent dream, his salute hand slowly dropped to his side. The entire drop door of the huge supply plane was torn off its hinges and lying almost 15 yards behind the plane as if blown off from the inside.
“What happened here?” He asked bewildered.
“You ‘happened’.” The Commander replied. Darius felt weak from shock as the lights slowly went dim.
