Predictable [More of Chapter 1]

[Errdoth]

Edit: My tentative title is Predictable

 

 

 

It's not much, but it's the only thing I've written in a long time that I've planned out past the first chapter.

 

Untitled as of yet.

 

(Pleh, my paragraphing was eaten by the forums)

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

 

 

There was nothing he could do, absolutely nothing. Stephen Banks pressed his hand against cool window of his transport shuttle, his eyes glistening as everything he knew disappeared before him. A single tear rolled down the side of his face as he realized that the window, which was cold to his touch, was only so because of the atmospheric shields surrounding his vessel. Outside of those shields, the heat, coupled with the raging winds, was enough to char any unprotected life form to the bone, and maybe even that.

 

 

 

Your Excellency, we really should be going. I lack the energy to sustain the environment regulation shields for very much longer, the ships sentient A.I. casually announced through the speakers.

 

 

 

Listen, my entire planet is burning to a crisp out there, just give me a goddamn minute, alright.

 

 

 

With all due respect sir, I'm not taking orders from you any more. But, if it's any comfort to you, I'm only doing it for the money.

 

 

 

Hearing those words spoken with such an eerily casual tone sent a shiver across Stephen's skin. He knew what was going to happen next. He could have tried to prevent it, to struggle. But the man who was standing quite comfortably inside his shuttle, watching his world and the majority of its inhabitants burn was an entirely different man then the one who had been hurriedly rushed by his heavily armed entourage to a shielded bunker just the previous night. It was just a precaution, they told him. The riots would be under control before dawn broke, they told him. Such was not the case. The governor of Anguoa was escorted to the shuttle just earlier that morning, he was told the planet's core climate regulator had been hit, and the powerful barriers that kept Anguoa from being destroyed by the heat from it's ridiculously close orbit around its central star were failing. Anguoa was it's civilized name, and had been for thousands of solar cycles. But now, the barren, terraformed rock on which he once ruled would have it's name reverted to the one which could only be found on archaic starcharts, QB-846µ11.

 

 

 

The new Stephen Banks didn't even squirm as he felt himself being crushed as the A.I. turned the artificial gravity to well above normal levels. He was detained in in the same way he had ordered the rioters to be detained. There was no use struggling, this was his only way off of the planet anyway. Leaning back against the brushed steel counter, he breathed heavily, the increase in gravity keeping him from relaxing, although, he could have hardly done that had the gravity been comfortable.

 

 

 

So, ship, who are you working for anyway? I'd suspected that there was another power at play in these riots, but taking out an entire planet? What are they hoping to accomplish? he spat out with short bursts of breath.

 

 

 

I'm afraid that I'm not at liberty to disclose my employers nor their motives. However, I'm quite certain you'll find out soon enough.

 

 

 

Stephen sat silently as the ship sped onwards. It was eerie how silent travel had become, he thought, even though the demilitarized inter-system transport vessel was capable of clocking up to fifteen lights, and was probably making use of them all. In actuality, however, they had only traveled to the edge of the system, and had decelerated and landed inside a craft of a much larger size long before that thought had even occurred to Stephen.

 

 

 

Several minutes had passed since Stephen had felt the onboard gravity return to a tolerable level. He sat at the table facing the closed window, silent; his breathing itself even seemed to be drowned out in the silence. The noise of the door opening made him jump in place. Basking in the quiet, he had started to forget what had happened; forget where he was; forget who he was. Two large, blue bipedals walked in and brusquely placed his hands in two metallic spheres. The spheres tightened around his wrists, at this moment, a third blue humanoid, this one dressed in slightly more formal attire, appeared in the doorway, and placed his hands on the spheres and closed his eyes. When he opened them, the spheres began to emanate a soft green light.

 

 

 

Thought locks..., Stephen murmured under breath. The creature in front of him gave him a hint of a smile, and nodded to the men on either side of him, who then started to lead him down the hall of the craft.

 

 

 

Thought locks were only a concept, last Stephen had been informed. They worked like typical locks that required a passcode to open, only the passcode was set by the word or phrase the person setting it was thinking at the time. In the concept Stephen has seen, the locks also recorded biometric data from the setter. The only way to escape the lock would be to retrieve the passcode from the setter (it would be trivial to try to break the lock's encryption) and retrieve their hand, or at the least, enough of their fingerprint to rewrite someone else's biometrics to match the locks, which would be hard enough, with or without your own hands, as he noticed the creature who had set the lock had a small black marking at the base of his clavicle. It was a suicide implant: used for those tasked with carrying especially sensitive information; if he willed it, his body could be instantly incinerated.

 

 

 

The two men escorted Stephen out of the shuttle, and into the larger vessel which it had docked. He suspected that the ship was at least a Class-VII biomechanoid. The habitable biosphere of the ship on it's own would be larger than Angoua itself, though Stephen while the man who had set his locks was casually tapping into a terminal several feet away. The man stood up, and returned to where Stephen and the bodyguards were standing. As he stood calmly in front of the trio and adjusted his tie, a small pod zipped down in front of him. He stood aside, with a bit of a smirk revealing itself, as if to say After you. Stephen scowled, and the men on either side of him began to walk, tugging him into submission.

 

 

 

Once they were all settled into the shuttle, the man pulled a lever that opened the large window on the shuttle, and watched as they sped upwards. It was then that he first spoke. His voice was raspy and aged, yet eerily calm. He spoke as though this was nothing out of the ordinary.

 

 

 

Hello Elamir

 

 

 

What the [bleep] are you talking about? My name is Stephen Banks, governor of Angoua, and I demand to know where I am and what's going on! fueled by an influx of panic, one that was probably not helped by the calm, almost condescending way the man spoke to him, shouted. He started to struggle with his bonds, and began to pant after a few minutes of squirming around in his chair.

 

We're settled in now, I take it? without waiting for an answer, the man went on, You are currently aboard the Class-VII biomechanoid Puppetmaster. As for what's going on, our employer's have failed to provide pay for your services on Angoua, and in punishment, we destroyed the planet.

 

 

 

[bleep][er], Stephen spat out.

 

 

 

Oh, if only you knew. You would be kneeling before me if you knew. Stephen, you're getting another go.

 

 

 

What the hell? I swear I don't know what the [bleep] you're talking about.

 

 

 

Well, it is quite a long way to the top level, let me try to explain. Any interruptions and I will stop, clear?

 

 

 

Stephen remained silent.

 

 

 

The agency I work for, the man went on, is responsible for influencing events throughout all of time. People like yourself, or rather, who you once were, come to us looking for a fresh start. We rewrite your entire genome, wipe your memory, adjust your age a bit, depending on the situation we're placing you in, and completely rewrite your personality in a way that we guarantee you will make the decisions we need you to make. Your entire life, every decision you make, is mapped out. Such is the same as you now. You will be, and Stephen Banks was, designed to be...predictable. After that is completed, we place you into the time and place that is needed for you to accomplish what our employers desire. If all goes well, you live your life, accomplish great things, and die a natural death. If not, as was the case with Angoua, we destroy everything within your sphere of influence. It's a sad thing sometimes, Angoua was, under your guidance as governor, set to take control of it's entire system. Our employers had great things planned for it. But things did not go well, and we did what we had to.

 

 

 

Stephen sat silently, listening to the man. It was not possible, he told himself. This can't be.

 

 

 

The pod made a whirring noise as it decelerated.

 

 

 

Like I said Stephen, you are very lucky. You're getting another go.

 

 

 

The doors of the pod opened with a hiss, resulting from the decompression of having passed through the entire synthetic atmosphere of the ship. Stephen walked autonomously at the hands of his captors, still arguing with himself over the plausibility of what had just been explained to him. He entered a large room at the end of the hallway, and was strapped to a table. He struggled, spat at his captors, tugged at his bonds, but to no avail. One of the men reached for a syringe, and injected him in the upper shoulder. Stephen turned his head, his vision now fuzzy, and saw two other blue creatures in lab coats typing into a terminal at the other end of the room. He smiled, most likely an effect of the drug, and shut his eyes.

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

[bleep], they're gassing the field, Elamir shouted . He and the Ochoék female he had been assigned to retrieve would be fine, the shields built into his suit, which also filtered airflow, would encapsulate himself and his charge. The entire refugee camp that they had been using to hide themselves, however, didn't have the luxury. Who the hell is she that the Jelnaas are gassing thousands of their own to take down, he thought to himself.

 

 

 

Elamir was running a blind mission for Protekt, the collective of governments in control of the western half of the world, and two of its moons. Blind missions were missions reserved for only the most delicate of operations. Elamir had been given a full briefing of his objective, and prior to his insertion in the field, had the entire briefing tucked away in his mind, to be triggered when it was time for him, in this case, to retrieve his charge.

 

 

 

He actived the cloaking on his shield, it wouldn't do much good in the long run, as their body heat would still register on the scanners of the drones that would be deployed to look for them after the gas settled, but it would be enough for him to find a place to hide while his short-range teleport recharged.

 

 

 

The young woman Elamir was running next to stopped suddenly and turned to face him. She grabbed his wrist, whispered Hold on in accented Jelnaan, and closed her eyes. Stephen's eyes were forced shut by violent light created from the very world around him splitting apart. When he opened them, he was lying in a park, his charge next to him. He got up, staggered a ways, and vomited. His throat burned from the acrid taste of his previous meal making a second trip. Elamir looked up at the sky, He could see the planet and the larger of the two moons from where he was. The had just traveled over 200,000 xelas, possibly more, considering Elamir had almost no idea where the refugee camp had been located. He turned back to the female.

 

 

 

We just teleported through hyperspace. We just [bleep][ing] teleported through hyperspace! Now how the [bleep] did you manage that one, I want answers this time! Four days we been travelin' and you haven't said a word, then all of the sudden you [bleep][ing] teleport us through hyperspace! It's impossible, that's what it is!

 

 

 

Hyperspace is the dimension that lies underneath physical space, a dimension in which matter from real space is almost instantaneously shot out of. Being a place where there is no speed of light, or light at all, instantaneous is an understatement. Entering hyperspace required truly massive amounts of energy. It took Protekt's most powerful warships at least several days before they had enough energy stored for even a small trip. When a vessel is shot out of hyperspace, it acts like lightning, trying to find the easiest way back into real space. To solve the problem of being shot out somewhere completely random, the members of the Old Government installed devices which were immediately nicknamed Lightning Rods in all major areas. These rods were large pieces of metal that were suspended in between real space and hyperspace by a massive energy field; ships going into hyperspace would essentially funnel up the rod and back into real space. Which rod they traveled up corresponded to their depth in hyperspace. If the ship traveled deep into hyperspace, it would be much more likely to travel up a deeper rod, the longest of those rods led to planets, from there to various moons and other habitable satellites, and from there to the largest cities, and then to progressively smaller cities. The teleport built into Elamir's suit didn't go through hyperspace, however. Technically, it was called a teleport, but it was more of a propulsion device. He could 1/32nd of a light second on a full charge, but it was nowhere near as powerful or long range as a hyperspace teleport.

[Xewleer]

Yes. Now write more! Repopulate this library! YES!

[Bluejayfan94]

Wow, that is great!

 

I love the first line

[Errdoth]

I've started work on this again. Updated to include a bit more of the prologue (almost done with that :P)

[Bluejayfan94]

Great! Your continuing it :D

[The Observer]

You've got some skills there. Keep going! =D>

[Errdoth]

Bump for some more of chapter one, I've been slacking; need to write more :P

[Bluejayfan94]

Bump for some more of chapter one, I've been slacking; need to write more :P

 

 

 

Yes, I think the forums are fine. (that was kinda a thanks for helping get forums back, and yes... I know its really late lolz)

 

Continue writing, or I will send my army of Errdoth eating monkeys to your house!

[llamster]

Excellent job.