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Fafnir Chapter Three - Big Brother is Watching
Posted By: KnightmareWolf<KnightmareWolf@aol.com>
Date: 10 August 2002, 8:54 am
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Sorry this thing took so long, and considering the time taken to write it, it doesn't seem that long does it? Not exactly a "quality piece of writing either, in my opinion. Kinda' writing two things at once... No spoilers now!
Part one takes place in 3604, the next few Take Place in 2552-5, the past. It may seem garbled at first but I've got to introduce everyone before we link them up, I'm hoping that the plot seems pretty deep, just the way I intend it to be! Think of it as the calm before the storm...
-Knightmare
Fafnir Part Three - Big Brother is Watching<Pearl Jam - Elderly Woman behind the counter in a small town>
Date: 2553, December, 16, 10:00am Standard Time
California, Earth
Standing resolute over a single rise overlooking several emerald hills, David Carter held his gaze on an ascending falcon, marveling in its beauty.
Fierce ruby eyes, setting suns on the prairie, majestic chestnut feathers cradled in moonstone tendrils. His great plumed head never moved from it's set path, and those breathtaking orbs never left their prey.
This creature was a true hunter.
"God, nice day." Whispered he, feeling his trench coat brush against his body, retreating with the breeze.
He treasured these days more than anything, smelling the sweet perfumes of nearly every kind of flower, if these wondrous scents were to be broken he knew he'd have nothing to live for, arguably suicide was the worst course, but to him it was the only course. Roses and tulips, lilies and sunflowers...
Artificial gardening produced all sorts of things, sights, sounds, and smells too.
It was picturesque.
David turned, slowly stepping from his little spot, yet stiff since he wasn't used to standing still for long periods. When he seemed to be finished, a very large bird landed on his shoulder, digging its claws in deeply, drinking of its master's scent.
For the first time in several hours he laughed, rather enjoying Xavier, his pet "birdie".
It nibbled affectionately at his earlobe.
"Why the fuck do you like this cologne so much Xav?" David mumbled.
"Nice and mango smelling I guess, though maybe it's the spice." Replied a charming, smooth voice. Manliness was definitely there, as was level headedness.
Kind of like David himself actually, only problem being he cared about his looks too much.
"What would everyone say if I told them I had a talking falcon for a pet?" He queried.
"They'd most likely commit you for giving too much sodomy to Auntie Ellis."
The very cheerful man giggled silently, almost girlishly, at the falcon's snide remark.
"Yer' just sad cause' it wasn't you."
"Damn right honey."
Both laughed at the self-degrading words, knowing it was all playful conversation, demeaning as it was.
David and Xavier propelled themselves down a rugged, beaten path strewn with sticks and various other things effectively resembling many hills, sort of lumpish clay stuck into a volcano, then allowed to burn before being shoved into yet another volcano followed by water slides and treated with liquid nitrogen.
Each lump complemented the cracked mud, as did the loose pebbles, most of them blue or slate gray, so gray they reminded David of old lead pellets or excess concrete, fitting really; matching every scattered tree lining the area.
Our ever-precious sky crowned in wreaths of ozone and pollution housed little angel shaped clouds, vaporous trailing contours flailing about splotchy tentacles. It was a kaleidoscopic mish-mash composing what passed as shapes.
They made it to the end after about five minutes forced hike, still mumbling to each other about politics or ethics.
Overhead a crow flew, sticking out in the now glorious morning, watching David and his falcon, silently gliding to perch on a nearby branch.
"CRAAAW!" It shrieked. "CAAAAAAAAAAW!"
Neither paid it any heed.
Date: 2553, December, 16, 10:30am Standard Time
California, Earth
David slammed his common room door open screaming "Billy Bob number three is not gay!" Xavier merely cocked his head pensively whilst his master droned on. "If he actually was gay, which he isn't, how come he had an affair with Rayni Fergus last fall?"
"Fist of all," Xavier intoned. "Its RAYMOND Fergus, and his former lover was also a man, named Chris Whitington."
David shook his head.
"Get off my shoulder."
Xavier did so.
"Alright, what do you want for lunch: chicken, pork, er' veggie pizza?"
Xavier flew from his previous perch; lavender colored leather reclining chair and gently pushed the oaken door of their abode shut.
"Let's go with the veggie pizza."
"You read my mind."
"So, how's old Jamey Carter?" The falcon questioned.
"My Brother?" David replied quizzically. "Knowing him he's up to his waist in black market assault rifle rounds."
Iced Carter wheeled left, barely avoiding a stainless steel combat knife as it dug into a wall several inches from him.
"Get his skinny ass!" Cried one of his pursuers. "Hear that Carter? I'm gonna' cut your balls off and feed them to my dog!"
Xavier squawked his approval.
"Being chased by men in black suits and sporting "Executive" brand trench coats."
It was David's turn to laugh.
"Jamey Carter, stunt man, ladies man, dead man!"
"Loves all, reaps all, steals all!"
David squealed so hard that he was crying; only half interested in their current conversation, really wanting nothing more than to harvest his pizza. It was a work of art, an extension of his will and a piece of his soul, to make a pizza is to lose a part of your self, his grandpa once said.
That was why all his pizzas never had bad taste, he'd won many awards ranging from "Best amateur pizza chef" to "World's best pizza."
He ran down a nearby alley thick with grime, realizing that its ugly red color matched his hair's own, reminding him of blood spilt within a peaceful meadow, grabbing at a killing lust, urging it to forge onwards. Jamey however, would have none of it.
He heard telltale sounds of bullets whizzing by his head, and instinctively dropped down, just in time it seemed, as something that sounded like a whip cracking reached his ears. He looked down at the massive cartridge sitting placidly on the pavement in front of him, and sprinted for the alley mouth.
Xavier flapped carelessly into the kitchen, spreading dirt all over it's clean, whitewashed walls and floor. Brown oak cupboards were spread at regular lengths, only slightly higher than the counter itself, mainly of the same color and decorated with tacky orange swirls.
"Five minutes an' counting pizza boy." Xavier mocked as David flipped him the finger.
Reach II, ONI Facility 04
"What are these captain?" Preston Cole interrogated.
"Dad you've seen these before, you tell me." Laura answered.
Cole gave his adopted daughter a crossed look.
"Just because I'm your father that doesn't mean you get special privileges." He scorned hoarsely.
Laura smiled sweetly and pressed her petite hands to her cheek, causing Cole to shake his head and stomp off to Alec's control console.
She loved manipulating her "daddy"; it was so easy it was second nature, at times it was hard being his "little girl" but he really did care, he just never showed it.
"Fafnir is ninety-nine point nine percent complete and there are no flaws." Stated Cole, gesturing to Alec's graphs and charts. "What in god's name are these?"
"Mistakes that very well lead to vastly improving Fafnir."
Both Laura and Cole turned to Alec, startled.
Alec rolled his eyes; he seemed to be particularly annoyed of their simultaneous action, but offered to elaborate on the ship's current design nonetheless.
"Let me give you a little overview."
The "SCS Fafnir" is roughly ten halves larger than the largest documented Covenant ship, with many decks she is capable of supporting thousands of troops and materials, as well as ship's crew of nine thousand. Her armament consists of Three hundred MAC Cannons acting as point defense guns, Fifty-three high impact plasma cannons, Thirty-two plasma torpedo launch bays, and the real package, two APAM Cannons.
"APAM Cannons?" Cole questioned.
"Anti-matter Plasma Accelerated MAC Cannon." Laura Interjected.
"Just checking." Cole recovered.
"Right."
She's equipped with special armor, research was done on MJOLNIR, Elite, and Jackal protective gear; Each was combined and enlarged to create Fafnir's shield capability. She's got fifteen docking bays, twenty nine cargo bays, and one hell of a ship design, focusing on strength and resistance to boarding parties should it ever happen.
"With these new reading we'd be able to jump her with greater accuracy, fire to pin point precision..."
Alec hit a few miscellaneous buttons and a pull-apart net of the ship's design flashed up.
"That's quite enough, work them in." Cole shouted hurriedly.
"Yessir!"
Laura giggled.
These two are like quarreling brothers at the country fair! Her mind stuttered.
Her dad seemed to be equally agitated, probably since she'd woken him, but he was the only one, if she'd done it to anyone else she'd be stripped of her rank, which, contrary to popular belief, she'd worked hard for.
"Lieutenant Duran, get some rest, I'm sure Miss Trenton can do fine, tell your relief guy he can skip this shift, don't bother saluting on your way out."
Laura gave Cole a look of disgust and slumped over as Alec stepped through the control room doors, now she'd be alone in the last few hours of the present shift, plus she still had her own shift to do!
He wore a cocky smile and issued for one of his "don't mess with me" looks before he too vacated the area.
Laura slammed the arm of her chair with her elbow, creating a satisfying thump sound.
He'd undermined her authority, and intentionally ordered Alec to show disrespect!
"Asshole." She whimpered, hunching further still.
Laura tapped a few buttons on her chair's arm pad; she directed her hand towards "rock".
Access Code Accepted...
Running ID check...
ID Verified.
What would you like Captain?
Rock music Kappa. She keyed.
Band name?
And Old One, Green day.
Accessing....
Done. Song Title?
She'd get it if she was caught, Laura knew that, but she had to do something to pass the time.
Hitchin' A Ride Kappa, play in on audio in this room only, on the word "Deep."
Yes Captain.
Laura stood, noticing a red light near Alec's console.
"This is Deep Gnome", Chattered the Comm. Net. "Reporting all clear."
The AI Started to play the song she'd chosen; and Laura slapped her head. Great, what was she gonna' do now?
She hastily jabbed the "speak" button with her thumb.
"Roger that Deep Gnome," She was cut off by laughter. "Something the matter?" She heard a tiny clicking sound, almost inaudible over the Longswords' engines screaming their constant howl.
"No ma'am, certainly not." The pilot replied.
"What?" She replied questioningly, her voice alive with both anger and curiosity.
More laughter came.
"WHAT?"
"What would you say Delta Wing?"
She realized her mistake, that little click was captain Daniel Hobbs bringing the conversation over the entire communications net of Delta Wing.
"That'd be a Captain Laura right boys?"
"Yes sir, That song would be her favorite sir."
She heard another click.
"Hey mister where you headed...?"
"Are you in a hurry?"
That would be both Jacobs and Hobbs, wing men, both could do the old lead singer's voice to the last syllable if they wanted, they'd brought it over and jammed it on Delta wing's comm.
"Yes ma'am," This one was Fergus. "Thank you ma'am."
"A little happy hour say,"
"Uh-oh."
That sounded like no one in particular, only every single pilot in the air at the time.
Laura clicked off the comm. And practically dove into her chair, her face was red and she was laughing silently.
"Oh well," She mused. They were nice guys, the type that wouldn't report such an incident. Laura recalled drinking and playing pool with at least half of them once, the day they'd all graduated from flight school.
She hit the comm. Button again, this time it was the one on her chair.
"Yell one, two, one, two, three, four."
Several seconds passed.
"Cold turkeys getting' stale,"
A line she couldn't understand shot by.
"A little salmonella poison," Laura cut in.
"Uh-oh." Every pilot shouted again, they wouldn't miss a beat!
Someone else came on the air. "Gentleman what's going on over there?" Cole said impassively.
All music cut.
"Oh damn, gentleman the Fafnir is almost done, don't stop on my account, the boys were thinking of joining in."
The pilots laughed. "Delta Wing," Said Hobbs. "Start it up."
Guitars blared over the whole net of ONI Facility 04, right from the top, people were singing again, and this time it was the entire base.
It was good to be in the armed forces... Laura thought, resting her head.
"People say ONI is a no no-nonsense organization." She told everyone. "And how wrong they are, we get all the cool stuff."
Cole's soldiers cheered.
Date: 2553, December, 16, 11:30am Standard Time
California, Earth
David could've sworn he was eating takeout, this pizza sucked.
"You ruined my pizza." David accused.
"It was your fault."
"How was it my fault? You were in my face for most of it."
"You're the one that set the timer for ten minutes and not six, remember?" Xavier countered.
"I told you to watch it."
"I don't have opposable thumbs, you were the one that was supposed to get your ass of the sofa and open the oven."
David acted as if struck. "You were sitting on my shoulder the whole god damn time?"
"What difference does it make?"
"You weren't watching the god damn oven."
Silence prevailed for a long while afterwards as the two simply stopped and listened to the "fake" newscaster on the video-screen.
"Today one of those big cover-ups was seemingly revealed, all you UFO lackeys, get out those pens and papers!" His mouth broadened into another predictable "fake" smile. "Sounds emanated from an unknown location on Reach II about one hour ago, Robins Alistor is live on scene."
The video-screen faded out and "came on again", an obviously physically fit woman in her prime standing near some inane brownish colored rock.
"That thing is bigger than she is!" Xavier exclaimed.
"That's certainly true Norm, upon closer inspection it was revealed to be a classical song called "Hitchin' a ride," Said Robins. "We are monitoring and -
She turned, facing the rock and looking to something in the sky.
"What is that?"
"Huh?" The Cameraman stuttered dumbly.
"We are so scaring the shit outta' them."
"Roger that Deep Gnome we read you loud and clear, arming forward missiles."
The Longswords banked right.
"This is gonna' be one hell of a rock slide."
Robins shook her head in disbelief.
"There's something up there; folks I can't tell you what it is!"
"Watch your vector Delta Seven it's getting a little tight."
Hobbs fingered his stick, flipping up the safety on "Fire AP-994 Hogger".
"Be careful with that thing Hobbs, we're gettin' a little low."
"No worries Jacobs."
Hobbs pressed the little red button and watched his missile streak off; he smiled as it slammed into a rather unstable ledge holding at least one hundred-thirty good-sized rocks in place.
"Oh my god, run!" Robins screamed.
The camera flew from its triangular shaped setter and smashed itself to pieces rolling downwards, soon after, it was crushed by rocks. And from what David could tell more rocks.
He was glad that wasn't his brother under there.
(?)
Endless blackened charcoal and tiny multi-colored speckles created the undeniable trademark of nightfall, usual humanoid bustle had died down because its consistent shades caused fear or claustrophobia. Living things needed light to survive; thus not so predictable instinct kicked in.
Quickening breath, increased adrenaline flow, heightened senses; they were all common symptoms of discomfort.
Right now "Iced Carter" was experiencing each one. You can get a good rush taking risks, but when you're scared shitless by insubstantial shades out for your blood, you don't give a damn. You can fall, literally rip yourself to pieces, and still keep running. Why? 'Cause when you die you don't feel cold, you don't see your life flash before your eyes, you just sit there with a stupid look on your face, watching as civilization sticks its collective foot up your ass and kicks you screaming for mercy right into creation's "Waste Basket".
Simple really: You don't want to die.
He could hear his feet impacting hardened snow, making loud crunching noises. Running half an hour really did cost a lot, muscles started cramping, and lungs refused air. Eventually you could trip over ridiculously inane things, flat, even ground for example.
Carter did just that, unable to continue any longer he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
For several seconds, moonlight cascaded across moderately tanned skin, greased back red hair, and pale blue eyes.
"Bastards!" Carter spat, his breathing ragged, his speech raspy.
Moments later a different set of crunching sounds emanated from behind him, they were even, and unhurried. Turning and facing his killers, he wished he hadn't had the energy.
Carter heard a hammer click back, squinting in non-existent light he saw three consecutive flashes, each paced thirty centimeters apart, three loud cracks reverberated in the darkness, and echoes numbering even greater faded off.
It didn't take long for his body to die out.
"This guy was a top notch ONI Orbital Drop Shock too." Stated a deep, authoritative, somewhat cynical voice. Two men could be heard laughing, deep in the confines of a small forest.
"The subject is ready, we begin now." Exclaimed the other, scratching his pewter gray goatee. "Name's Duran, Alec Duran."
The first man, noticeably African-American slapped his head, wiping off several drops of sweat.
"Very well." He flashed an unsettling smirk. "Lunacy awaits."
Both shadows faded away, crunching snow the only sign of their presence.
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