THE FIRST NIGHT: AN ANTIGAN CHRONICLE BY ANATOLE
CHAPTER ONE: INTRO
"Amalkin? Are you there?"
Amalkn TeLiero made a half turn towards Asher, the High Convocate Representative of the fleet. Asher's tall form was caught in his peripheral vision, and he almost smiled. He shrugged the dark cloak off his small form, exposing a compacted, lithe form, with almost yellow Latino skin and tight shoulders.
"I'm here, Asher. Can I help you?"
A trace of annoyance kept into his voice, for being disturbed. He let Asher feel his annoyance.
"Amalkin? Are we almost ready to go?"
"Almost." he paused for a second, maybe two. "Go."
Asher didn't ask why he had hesitated the split second. He probably didn't want to know the answer.
He walked towards the exit ramp, where his passenger Endér stood, rifle slung over his back.
"Ho, Asher, we going?"
Endér, you idiot. Of course we're going. Am I standing here for my health? "Yes, Endér, we going. Do you even know how to fire a F-41 rifle?"
Asher sighed, as the ramp depressed. Outside the world was a faint blue, just bright enough to make out the subtle color variations. Just a few inches through the blue gasses, Asher could see the faint outlines of the rock and metal ores. "We go," He said, almost bouncing with anticipation. He hadn't been here in a while. Not long enough.
"No, Asher, I don't."
Amalkin slid the gas filtration mask over his face, and looked around. His commando gear had come online as he activated it. The new system, implanted in the left side of his skull and ribcage was much better than the old one, which merely projected images upon the visor in front of him. His newer model superimposed the required information screens directly into his vision, so it couldn't be jarred or fall out of alignment. Much cleaner. This stuff must cost a fortune...good thing I don't have to pay for it. Damn Dlyarians. They could afford to pay for their own gear. Frickn' Endér, stuck up pretty boy Ashkilan. Amalkin was the pilot on that ship, and HE still didn't know why he was here. Not that he doubted his powers. He'd just rather somebody else had come along for the ride.
Endér wasn't real happy with the situation either. Crammed in the tiny shuttle for a week, with the anti-dylarian jerk off Amalkin, and that psychotic freak Asher. Shoulda locked that ass in the back. I could've gotten some frackin' sleep that way. Asher was Ashkilan too, and Endér didn't like him much though. Asher didn't have a firm grip on reality and his emotions. Made him nervous to watch him sit down in a chair, and just twitch because he thought it was fun. Sickening.
Shoved me here with a pretty-boy Dylarian, and some pothead autocrat. Great. The mists curled around Asher's feet, breezing by in the slightest solar winds.
"Lots of radiation down here, guys." his voice trailed off for a second, "Do we need more shielding?"
"More than what we've got on? You kidding me? There can't be that much radiation. Suck it up and start walking. It's a long jog home if you don't like it here."
"Shut up. You sure this is the right place? I don't recognize any of this geography."
"Of course it's the right spot. I brought us here. Do I ever make mistakes? No. I don't. Let's just go and explore a little. Where else are we going to go?"
"Quiet down, you two. We've got a nice hour's walk ahead of us, and all this will change a lot by the time we get to the target sites. Would you rather play solitare on whats left of that ship? Don't worry."
"My gear reads 100% ready. Can we get going, or does Asher have something else to say?"
Stop friggin' mocking me, boy.
"No, I don't. Now get your lazy-ass going, bicho."
"Fine. I'm going"
"Go"
"I'm going"
"No, you're not. You're standing still and saying you want to friggin' lead us. Start frackin' walking"
Asher kept swearing at him, until he burnt that anger out of his system. Then he started swearing just so he could sound angry.
Amalkin walked past the two of them, and kept walking. They'll catch up.
A minute later, the radar screen on his upper-right vision centers showed that they had started walking, just a half-dozen yards behind him.
At least they're coming.
Asher kept walking after Amalkin. So what if we got shot at, huh? So what if we crash on a near-desolate planet on the inner rim, eh? So what if I'm trapped with two of the biggest ######s on this side of the galaxy, huh? So what if I've got an itchy trigger finger? Nobody's around.
Freakin' A. Thought Endér. I'm trapped on a piece-of-crap rock with two outbound hicks, who've never seen something pretty besides their cousin. This place sucks. Not even a nice little village to stop at.
Could this get any worse? Thought Amalkin, on a rock, between civilization and a hot place. The 'Feds have probably got a base over in the little basin, they've got little dump-holes strung all over the freakin' galaxy. Why am I still letting these two ######s follow me around? A snot-nosed Dylarian inbred, and a psychotic fruitcake rebel. And me, the freakin' Omega Squadron member, who needs to play babysitter. Well, it could be worse. They could start fighting with each other.
"Hey, Endér!"
"What now? I just wanna walk...do we have to talk all pretty too?"
"No, I just...never mind."
"No, not never mind, what?"
"Nothing"
Amalkin sighed, audibly over the comm. distortion. It was going to be a long walk. He took a last look at the gutted hulk of the ACF Interpreter, and sighed again. Too bad the friggin' pirates were such ######s.
Amalkin was sweating obviously now, it dampened his shirt as the flying bolts blew by his ship, and Endér swore at him, them, and the small shuttle in general for putting his pretty-butt in this position to begin with. Another shot hit the engines, and the aft-port fuel canister blew apart, dropping half of their fuel into the open vacuum. No hope of getting anywhere now. The gaseous planet grew larger in their view, the pirates peeling away. They'd given up.
Asher's cheer, tinned by the in-ship comm., was quickly silenced by Amalkin view of the situation. The pirates had not given up. Another explosion shook the craft, and the planet's gray atmosphere grew large in the view port. "Could it get worse?" "Yeah. It could be snowing."
(This message has been edited by moderator (edited 12-14-2001).)