Author's Note:
This is the first chapter to my upcoming debut novel, Sulcrus. This is my first work in the Science Fiction/Fantasy genre.
Chapter 1: Atmospheres
Wandu: Planet in Sulcrus Galaxy
She looked young. Long black hair and tan skin. She swam to the edge of the water, reached for the rocky ledge, and climbed out of the deep riverbank onto a grassy surface. Brown garments covered her modestly. She walked the edge of the crystal river slowly, humming in sync with the native birds of her planet. Her hips swayed gently with each step as she now walked on solid rock. Her gaze alternating between her feet and the path ahead. The path narrowed as she advanced. She was forced to walk closer to the river with only a couple feet between the river and the now thirty-foot-high wall beside her right arm. Water began to gush over the top of the wall and over her head, landing loudly in the swimming hole beside her. She was walking through a tunnel created in part by the rock wall and in part by the wide waterfall. She sat down against the wall, looked up, and watched the water soar over her head and explode into the water in front of her.
Her name was Ulani. She looked like a human, but her heritage was far from it. What was common knowledge about her was that she was a prophetess on a planet called Wandu — located approximately eighteen billion lightyears from Earth — and for as long as anyone could remember, she never seemed to age. She always had a young-adult radiance about her; even the old and dying women knew her to look this way a hundred years ago. Today, like most days, she had ventured far from her village, and she didn’t plan on returning any time soon. She came here to pray; to seek guidance from the One they called Ilham.
Here, she didn’t have to deal with the responsibilities of her village, where she was expected to behave in a certain manner — being a prophetess. Here, she didn’t have to perform healings or purify the meat given by the hunters or tend to the animals. Here, she was as free as the fish, which she began to study.
The waterfall came over her head and landed far enough away from the edge of the river to leave space for fish to swim next to her. This created a loud bubble that shut her off from the rest of Wandu. The fish flirted with where the falling liquid hit the surface of the water. Ulani stretched her thin arm down into the water, allowing the blue fish to play with her hand. They encircled it and occasionally nibbled on her fingers.
. . . . . . . .
Earth: Planet in Milky Way Galaxy
BOOM! -- a grenade exploded behind him slinging mud and water all over his backside. He fell down behind a metal crate. He slowly rose to get a better view and — SKURTCH! — a bullet skimmed his helmet, peeling off flakes of grey paint. “Geeze,” Josh said as he caught his breath. The noise of extremely loud gunfire sent trickling chills down his spine, and the exploding grenades nearby shook his entire body like an earthquake. He looked around the side of the crate, scanning what he was up against.
There was an all-metal fort; on its roof there was a man operating a turret with a holographic shield around his head rest. The bottom of the fort was guarded by three men who were waiting for him to make a move. He looked both ways and made a run for another crate. Halfway between the two crates he slipped in the mud and right when he got up — TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA — the repetitive machine gun fire filled him up with bullets, causing him to fall backwards into a massive mud puddle.
“TURN IT OFF!” said an angry and fuzzy voice.
An eclectic sequence of beeps sounded, and the metal buildings began to fade into colorless sheetrock. The bullets were soon revealed as rubber, and the people turned into combat robots. The only thing that did not digitally change was the mud and grassy midland between the two forts.
“Get your things son. The captain wants to see you… ASAP!” said the voice over the speaker again.
He grabbed a gray duffle bag with the words “Joshua Stokes” written across it and retreated to the locker room. Many of his classmates were watching from above the simulation arena, shaking their heads in disappointment as they began to move to their next classes.
Joshua slung his bag towards his locker while detaching his armored chest plate. He hit the showers. He was only nineteen years old, a college freshman. He had a prominent jaw line and a straight nose. Everyone’s parents said he looked like a young Hosh Jutcherson — a heartthrob from their generation. He was relatively tall and naturally muscular. His countenance pronounced wisdom beyond his years, and his grades and work ethic followed suit.
As he stood in that shower, he imagined all the things he might do upon graduation of The North Emeryx Compound. He was majoring in IGRRAT (Intergalactic Relations, Research and Trade) a degree only offered at the NEC due to a hefty government grant. However, getting into this school came with a price for a boy with low test scores — which was mainly due to his dyslexia. The tests were timed, and he always ran out of time before he could answer all the questions.
Josh became aware of the IGRRAT major just before he graduated with the class of 2094. He had always been fascinated by astronomy, and science was by far his favorite subject, so he was overly motivated to do anything to get the degree. Consequently, he applied for the military program at North Emeryx. He agreed to be trained as a foot soldier while pursuing a degree in IGRRAT, and to be a soldier in reserve upon graduation for two years. In return, he would receive full financial support during enrollment. To him, it was a deal with the Devil, and he felt like a slave, but at least he was allowed to pursue the degree of his dreams.
Josh put on his military formal clothing: an all grey, tight-fitting suit with black boots and a black belt. He Velcroed a private’s patch on his left shoulder, which pictured a blue globe and the nation’s military creed, “Protect the Homeland, Free the Far Land” — which accurately represented the nation’s world policing policy for what seemed like a millennium in the history books. He combed his hair, tightened his boots, and headed for Captain Jackson’s office.
While walking down the wide halls Josh had to deal with the classic remarks pertaining to someone at the compound getting called into the Captain’s office. The whistles, the “Ooooooh’s,” and the ever-so-sweet slaps in the rear. People began to come out of their dorm rooms as they learned of the spectacle — Josh wasn’t the type to get into trouble — so they all had to chime in. You would think a sophisticated group of college men might retire the elementary teasing, but these guys took pride in it. If there had been a degree in this sort of thing, they all would have graduated.
Josh finally made his way well beyond the men’s dormitory area and proceeded to the office. Now, with every step in the quietness of the halls he felt more and more nervous. He kept taking deep breathes to try and calm himself.
The door was close. He slowed down his walking pace. He crept up and stood at the office door with a sign reading “Cpt. Jackson”. He placed his hand on the door softly, and paused for a moment. He thought of the lashing he would get for failing his Foot Soldier Techniques final for the third time in a row. The door was cracked, but just before he pushed it open, he heard people speaking inside.
“You know I’m not supposed to do this Claire,” the deep voice then coughed, “but I am really impressed with your academic performance.” No reply from the person sitting across from Captain Jackson — Josh thought to himself that it must be a woman (judging by her name), and she must be blushing with all that praise from the Captain. Josh took a seat next to the door and leaned in close to hear more. “Since your grades are clearly at the top of your class, and Dr. Demit recommended you, I want to offer you an opportunity to get out of the military program, so you can focus solely on your studies in IGRRAT.” He took a sip of something, must have been hot, considering he blew a gust of air before he sipped again.
“Well, I would have to be crazy to refuse an offer like that, sir.” the woman assured with a soft confident tone.
“Alright, it’s all settled then!” Jackson said with enthusiasm. Josh heard some typing on a keyboard, “Tomorrow at 0600, Dr. Demit wants you in the tech lab, he’s working on a new insulation for the ship. He’ll also have some scheduling things to go over with you.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir.” she said.
A couple chairs slid across the floor, making a rough scraping noise. Bump — Claire’s hip rammed his should as she walked past. She took no notice of him. She walked away from him, down the wide military hallway. She was dressed in her formal uniform, and her blonde hair was in a neat ponytail. She seemed tall in relation to Josh, but he was sitting down.
To him, everything the young woman did was in slow motion, her every move was captured. She turned around to talk to a friend of hers — he was hoping he would get a glimpse of her face — she began informing the person of her recent ennoblement, which led to her laughing and smiling so big he couldn’t help but smile himself. Her teeth were white and symmetrical. Her eyebrows were light brown, wholesome. Her countenance wore absolute truth.
She rolled her eyes as if she was deflecting the praise of her friend; she then pushed her friend on the shoulder as if to insinuate that her friend was more deserving than herself. He then read the words on her lips, “Thank you so much, I’m so excited.” She made her farewell and turned to walk away, her blonde ponytail waved back and forth like a pendulum with each step.
“You got an eye for Claire Fairbanks, huh?” Captain Jackson said with his arms crossed, interrupting his thought process.
“Oh… um, what do you mean? I mean — I uh — I wasn’t watching her or anything, I just happened to be looking in that general direction and —”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… sure son, whatever you say,” the man interrupted sarcastically as he let his arms down. “I got good news for you. You’ll be seeing her a lot more soon.”
. . . . . . . .
“So, we’ve got a shortage of support for the new ship,” stated Jackson professionally, his head was abnormally large, fat, and square. “I’ve been asked to bring a couple of promising students up from the Pledge Program to be full time IGRRAT students. It’s sort of a — um — special project. Obviously, I’ve chosen you and Claire based on your academic performance. Clearly, you’re not the soldier type, Josh. No offense, but you’ve failed your FST final three times. But, you have done very well in your physics and flight techniques classes. And, Claire has performed at the top of her chemistry and astronomy classes. Of course, we need youth for this mission… I mean project!” He then whispered to himself a few curse words, and that he needed to quit saying mission. He continued, “So, anyway, tomorrow at 0600 I want you two in Demit’s tech lab. You’ll be working on some new insulation for the ship. That is… if you’re interested?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” he said. “The ship?”
“You think we’d offer a degree in Intergalactic Relations Research and Trade and let SpaceTrek be the first ones to make any real progress in the Universe?” Jackson stated arrogantly. “Oh, and that’s another thing,” he remembered, “everything you do in the lab and workshop is strictly confidential. You can’t discuss any of it with anyone outside of those rooms.”
Josh nodded.
“You mean, ‘yes sir.’”
“Yes sir!” Josh replied as he stood to his feet.
“Good. Now get the heck outta my office!”
Josh left Captain Jackson’s office beaming with pride. His cheeks were rosy red. His heart was racing. He felt like he was finally getting his big chance. He never liked the Pledge Program and was sick of the rigorous physical aspects of it. Now he could focus on what he loved: space exploration.
He walked down the hallway. To his left a window spanned from the ceiling to the floor and ran all the way down the entire hall. It must have been fifty meters in length. Josh paused halfway down and looked out into the brilliance of the sun. The light blinded him for a few seconds. The warmth made him comfortable — it made him want to stay and look awhile — perhaps even lean against the window and nap. It reminded him of when he was twelve years old in the Summer; when he would splash water out of his pool onto the concrete. He would wait until it got warm from the sun, and then he would lay in it and soak up all the heat. He was always cold.
When his vision came to, he could see the arena where he had recently made a fool of himself. He could see a small city a few miles in the distance, and lots of greenery painting a beautiful but plain forest picture. He took a deep breath as if it would be the last time he would see such a view. He turned and went back to his dormitory to do some research on insulation.
“Dude, you are such a jerk-wad,” stated Josh’s obnoxious roommate.
“Why, because I don’t have to be a slave to the Pledge Program anymore?” asked Josh, who was irritated.
“Exactly! We were supposed to be miserable together!” Josh’s roommate began to crack a smile.
"You’re right Riveran, I should have thought of that before I accepted — I better go tell the captain I can’t do it anymore.”
“Yes, thank you, that’s what a real friend would do.” said Riveran with a laugh..
“You know, I’m not going to miss training with you guys one bit.” Josh said.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. If I was smart enough to get out of the program I would in a heartbeat. Too bad I’m a moron.”
Josh continued, “Another bonus to getting straight into IGRRAT is that there’s —” he looked as if he desperately wanted to take back the sentence, “well, never mind.”
“What? What ole’ chap?” Riveran smiled and his cheeks became red. He looked like he could read Josh’s mind. “There’s a girl isn’t there? In the program with you? I should’ve known. Ole’ Josh, getting into the ‘space’ program for a girl,” Riveran said with excitement, “I should’ve known it wasn’t about space travel, discovering aliens, or living an awesome life where you make bookoos of money.”
Josh gave no response.
“Well, she won’t talk to you anyways. You’re way too nice,” Riveran said confidently. “Girls like jerks, like me.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “She’ll talk to you one time, realize you’re a nice guy, and move on. If anything, she’ll put you in the friend zone and you’ll be stuck there for the rest of your life. The only action you’ll get will be when you get to listen to her talk about other men. Trust me man, I see it all the time; then I scoop in, treat the girl like dirt, sleep with her, and move on. It’s a viscous cycle that I’ve been taking advantage of for years. You can either own the game or —”
“Let me stop you while you’re ahead, buddy,” Josh said to stifle his outrageous rant. “No good girl is going to want to be treated like dirt. Dirt likes dirt, and that’s why they like you.” he said with a smirk.
“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Riveran said sarcastically as he continued his twisted thought pattern, “Women today don’t respond to kindness and respect like they used to. They want one thing, and they want it with a jerk for some reason. I don’t argue with it, I just reap the benefits of it.”
Josh opened his laptop and began typing.
Riveran argued with Josh all the time about anything and everything. He just couldn’t let things go — whether he thought Josh was wrong or not didn’t matter to him, he just liked to argue. There did, however, always seem to be some effect of Josh’s words on Riveran, almost as if his humble and pure nature rubbed off on him. Riveran would never admit it, but he often times reflected on Josh’s worldview — his belief in God, his respect for authority, and of course, his gentlemanly approach to dating — they were so foreign to his own ideals that they seemed to stick around in his brain for a while after their encounters.
. . . . . . . .
Comuco: Planet in Sulcrus Galaxy
A powerful green hand burst through the interior of a hollow root to grab hold of a fen — a chicken-like animal on planet Comuco that is a shade of dark purple. The hand pulled the fen by the ankle back into the root, skinning it clean on its way down, sending feathers flying. It was here, in the dark hollow underneath the earth, that the mythological beast snapped the neck of the innocent animal and gently pushed the carcass into his backpack.
The monster was green all over, broad, and about twice the size of a human; his muscles popped out of every inch of his body; his teeth were sharp; some were long enough to hang over his bottom lips. His head was shaped like an ape’s; he had long and braided black hair, but it was pulled back and hung gently down his back, tucked behind a tan backpack.
The monster’s name was Mercum, or “Merc” as his tribe called him. What was most noticeable about him, though, was a red birthmark on his face. It ran across his left eye and came down his nose. It was undeniable. It contrasted greatly with his green complexion. The village doctor said it was simply a “discoloration of the skin,” but the village people believed it had a much darker explanation: they genuinely believed he was possessed by the Dark Lord—who is known by all of Sulcrus as the Principalian who rebelled against the great Creator.
The village people had good reason to believe such a thing; after all, it was right after he was born, with that stunning red scar across his face, that darkness fell over their entire planet. It was immediate, surely it had not been a coincidence. Dark clouds have consumed the sky ever since, blocking out the two suns that used to radiate Comuco with glory. Most of the plant life went extinct shortly after this event—except, of course, those rare and unfruitful species that could withstand such conditions.
Mercum looked up through the hole he had formed to check the time of day. He quickly saw a thrust of lightning rip across the sky so loudly it hurt his ears, signifying it was time to get back to camp. The dark storms that often characterized a night on Comuco would soon be coming. Additionally, it would pour rain, and the rain on planet Comuco was viscously large due to the slightly lower force of gravity.
He slung his weapon over his shoulder and began a jog back home.
He began to think about the days when his father took him hunting. It was exactly ten years before this very moment, when he was just a youngling. The hunting and farming was split between the two of them in those days. Now, it was just Merc, and he alone had to provide for his impoverished family.
He thought about what happened to his father, it was the day the Oppressors came. In fact, it was a rainy day just like this one, as was uncomfortably too common and too gloomy.
They were both ready to give up when they saw a herd of lakas trampling through the sumick trees. They ran alongside the herd until they could find an opportunity to strike down one of the beasts. These creatures looked like rhinoceroses in size, but their skin was quite slimy; their legs were long and thick, which made them difficult to take down; their heads closely resembled that of a shark, with rows of teeth going back into their skulls as far as one was willing to look. Needless to say, when provoked, they didn’t have a problem devouring other lifeforms.
As the pair ran alongside the herd, one of the lakas got off track and became separated from the herd. This was their chance. Mamos, Mercum’s father, pulled out his club and threw it harshly towards its front legs; with one sweeping force, it broke them both. The beast yelled for help, but the herd didn’t pay any attention. Merc and Mamos circled the beast, opposite one another to confuse it, as it roared back and forth at them in anguish. Mamos gave Merc a look and he knew exactly what to do. He drew an arrow with his bow and aimed it right at the beast between his eyes.
Before he let the arrow end the animal’s life, he had a brief conviction: these animals were intelligent; in fact, before Merc was born, Comucian villagers said they often had conversations with them — there were truly too many things to count that changed when the boy was born. As gross and demented as the animal looked, he still hated to end the life of one of Ilham’s creatures. But the villager’s stomachs needed him to be heartless. He sent the arrow flying.
The pair chopped up the beast, created a pallet out of smooth bark, and pulled the remains towards the village.
VROOOOM! — sounded a deafening jet engine. Merc and Mamos dropped the pallet ropes and ran to camp with their primitive weapons. Mamos got in front and soon was out of sight. He had escaped his son; Merc had never seen him run so fast. He began to hear repeated gun shots in the distance. A feeling of terror and fear came over him; a tingling sensation pulled down his spine and neck as the rain drenched him and the thunder roared.
Minutes later Merc arrived to a desolated camp: bullet holes, smoke, fire, and worst of all, his father, dead. In fact, all the men in the community were carcasses. Evidence revealed that they did not go down without a fight; only the women and children remained for this reason. Thankfully, Merc was only twelve at the time, and being fearful of the men in dark armor, he didn’t put up a fight—this was the only reason he was still alive ten years later.
Those who killed their fathers were known as the Oppressors. A group of masked soldiers who pledged worship and servitude to the Dark Lord. Upon occupation of Comuco, they developed a lifestyle of surveillance, enslavement, and frequent beatings for the Comucian people.
Now, Mercum was twenty-two years old. He quickly approached his village with a little food and a lot of remorse for the ten-year anniversary of his father’s death.
She looked young. Long black hair and tan skin. She swam to the edge of the water, reached for the rocky ledge, and climbed out of the deep riverbank onto a grassy surface. Brown garments covered her modestly. She walked the edge of the crystal river slowly, humming in sync with the native birds of her planet. Her hips swayed gently with each step as she now walked on solid rock. Her gaze alternating between her feet and the path ahead. The path narrowed as she advanced. She was forced to walk closer to the river with only a couple feet between the river and the now thirty-foot-high wall beside her right arm. Water began to gush over the top of the wall and over her head, landing loudly in the swimming hole beside her. She was walking through a tunnel created in part by the rock wall and in part by the wide waterfall. She sat down against the wall, looked up, and watched the water soar over her head and explode into the water in front of her.
Her name was Ulani. She looked like a human, but her heritage was far from it. What was common knowledge about her was that she was a prophetess on a planet called Wandu — located approximately eighteen billion lightyears from Earth — and for as long as anyone could remember, she never seemed to age. She always had a young-adult radiance about her; even the old and dying women knew her to look this way a hundred years ago. Today, like most days, she had ventured far from her village, and she didn’t plan on returning any time soon. She came here to pray; to seek guidance from the One they called Ilham.
Here, she didn’t have to deal with the responsibilities of her village, where she was expected to behave in a certain manner — being a prophetess. Here, she didn’t have to perform healings or purify the meat given by the hunters or tend to the animals. Here, she was as free as the fish, which she began to study.
The waterfall came over her head and landed far enough away from the edge of the river to leave space for fish to swim next to her. This created a loud bubble that shut her off from the rest of Wandu. The fish flirted with where the falling liquid hit the surface of the water. Ulani stretched her thin arm down into the water, allowing the blue fish to play with her hand. They encircled it and occasionally nibbled on her fingers.
. . . . . . . .
Earth: Planet in Milky Way Galaxy
BOOM! -- a grenade exploded behind him slinging mud and water all over his backside. He fell down behind a metal crate. He slowly rose to get a better view and — SKURTCH! — a bullet skimmed his helmet, peeling off flakes of grey paint. “Geeze,” Josh said as he caught his breath. The noise of extremely loud gunfire sent trickling chills down his spine, and the exploding grenades nearby shook his entire body like an earthquake. He looked around the side of the crate, scanning what he was up against.
There was an all-metal fort; on its roof there was a man operating a turret with a holographic shield around his head rest. The bottom of the fort was guarded by three men who were waiting for him to make a move. He looked both ways and made a run for another crate. Halfway between the two crates he slipped in the mud and right when he got up — TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA — the repetitive machine gun fire filled him up with bullets, causing him to fall backwards into a massive mud puddle.
“TURN IT OFF!” said an angry and fuzzy voice.
An eclectic sequence of beeps sounded, and the metal buildings began to fade into colorless sheetrock. The bullets were soon revealed as rubber, and the people turned into combat robots. The only thing that did not digitally change was the mud and grassy midland between the two forts.
“Get your things son. The captain wants to see you… ASAP!” said the voice over the speaker again.
He grabbed a gray duffle bag with the words “Joshua Stokes” written across it and retreated to the locker room. Many of his classmates were watching from above the simulation arena, shaking their heads in disappointment as they began to move to their next classes.
Joshua slung his bag towards his locker while detaching his armored chest plate. He hit the showers. He was only nineteen years old, a college freshman. He had a prominent jaw line and a straight nose. Everyone’s parents said he looked like a young Hosh Jutcherson — a heartthrob from their generation. He was relatively tall and naturally muscular. His countenance pronounced wisdom beyond his years, and his grades and work ethic followed suit.
As he stood in that shower, he imagined all the things he might do upon graduation of The North Emeryx Compound. He was majoring in IGRRAT (Intergalactic Relations, Research and Trade) a degree only offered at the NEC due to a hefty government grant. However, getting into this school came with a price for a boy with low test scores — which was mainly due to his dyslexia. The tests were timed, and he always ran out of time before he could answer all the questions.
Josh became aware of the IGRRAT major just before he graduated with the class of 2094. He had always been fascinated by astronomy, and science was by far his favorite subject, so he was overly motivated to do anything to get the degree. Consequently, he applied for the military program at North Emeryx. He agreed to be trained as a foot soldier while pursuing a degree in IGRRAT, and to be a soldier in reserve upon graduation for two years. In return, he would receive full financial support during enrollment. To him, it was a deal with the Devil, and he felt like a slave, but at least he was allowed to pursue the degree of his dreams.
Josh put on his military formal clothing: an all grey, tight-fitting suit with black boots and a black belt. He Velcroed a private’s patch on his left shoulder, which pictured a blue globe and the nation’s military creed, “Protect the Homeland, Free the Far Land” — which accurately represented the nation’s world policing policy for what seemed like a millennium in the history books. He combed his hair, tightened his boots, and headed for Captain Jackson’s office.
While walking down the wide halls Josh had to deal with the classic remarks pertaining to someone at the compound getting called into the Captain’s office. The whistles, the “Ooooooh’s,” and the ever-so-sweet slaps in the rear. People began to come out of their dorm rooms as they learned of the spectacle — Josh wasn’t the type to get into trouble — so they all had to chime in. You would think a sophisticated group of college men might retire the elementary teasing, but these guys took pride in it. If there had been a degree in this sort of thing, they all would have graduated.
Josh finally made his way well beyond the men’s dormitory area and proceeded to the office. Now, with every step in the quietness of the halls he felt more and more nervous. He kept taking deep breathes to try and calm himself.
The door was close. He slowed down his walking pace. He crept up and stood at the office door with a sign reading “Cpt. Jackson”. He placed his hand on the door softly, and paused for a moment. He thought of the lashing he would get for failing his Foot Soldier Techniques final for the third time in a row. The door was cracked, but just before he pushed it open, he heard people speaking inside.
“You know I’m not supposed to do this Claire,” the deep voice then coughed, “but I am really impressed with your academic performance.” No reply from the person sitting across from Captain Jackson — Josh thought to himself that it must be a woman (judging by her name), and she must be blushing with all that praise from the Captain. Josh took a seat next to the door and leaned in close to hear more. “Since your grades are clearly at the top of your class, and Dr. Demit recommended you, I want to offer you an opportunity to get out of the military program, so you can focus solely on your studies in IGRRAT.” He took a sip of something, must have been hot, considering he blew a gust of air before he sipped again.
“Well, I would have to be crazy to refuse an offer like that, sir.” the woman assured with a soft confident tone.
“Alright, it’s all settled then!” Jackson said with enthusiasm. Josh heard some typing on a keyboard, “Tomorrow at 0600, Dr. Demit wants you in the tech lab, he’s working on a new insulation for the ship. He’ll also have some scheduling things to go over with you.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir.” she said.
A couple chairs slid across the floor, making a rough scraping noise. Bump — Claire’s hip rammed his should as she walked past. She took no notice of him. She walked away from him, down the wide military hallway. She was dressed in her formal uniform, and her blonde hair was in a neat ponytail. She seemed tall in relation to Josh, but he was sitting down.
To him, everything the young woman did was in slow motion, her every move was captured. She turned around to talk to a friend of hers — he was hoping he would get a glimpse of her face — she began informing the person of her recent ennoblement, which led to her laughing and smiling so big he couldn’t help but smile himself. Her teeth were white and symmetrical. Her eyebrows were light brown, wholesome. Her countenance wore absolute truth.
She rolled her eyes as if she was deflecting the praise of her friend; she then pushed her friend on the shoulder as if to insinuate that her friend was more deserving than herself. He then read the words on her lips, “Thank you so much, I’m so excited.” She made her farewell and turned to walk away, her blonde ponytail waved back and forth like a pendulum with each step.
“You got an eye for Claire Fairbanks, huh?” Captain Jackson said with his arms crossed, interrupting his thought process.
“Oh… um, what do you mean? I mean — I uh — I wasn’t watching her or anything, I just happened to be looking in that general direction and —”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… sure son, whatever you say,” the man interrupted sarcastically as he let his arms down. “I got good news for you. You’ll be seeing her a lot more soon.”
. . . . . . . .
“So, we’ve got a shortage of support for the new ship,” stated Jackson professionally, his head was abnormally large, fat, and square. “I’ve been asked to bring a couple of promising students up from the Pledge Program to be full time IGRRAT students. It’s sort of a — um — special project. Obviously, I’ve chosen you and Claire based on your academic performance. Clearly, you’re not the soldier type, Josh. No offense, but you’ve failed your FST final three times. But, you have done very well in your physics and flight techniques classes. And, Claire has performed at the top of her chemistry and astronomy classes. Of course, we need youth for this mission… I mean project!” He then whispered to himself a few curse words, and that he needed to quit saying mission. He continued, “So, anyway, tomorrow at 0600 I want you two in Demit’s tech lab. You’ll be working on some new insulation for the ship. That is… if you’re interested?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” he said. “The ship?”
“You think we’d offer a degree in Intergalactic Relations Research and Trade and let SpaceTrek be the first ones to make any real progress in the Universe?” Jackson stated arrogantly. “Oh, and that’s another thing,” he remembered, “everything you do in the lab and workshop is strictly confidential. You can’t discuss any of it with anyone outside of those rooms.”
Josh nodded.
“You mean, ‘yes sir.’”
“Yes sir!” Josh replied as he stood to his feet.
“Good. Now get the heck outta my office!”
Josh left Captain Jackson’s office beaming with pride. His cheeks were rosy red. His heart was racing. He felt like he was finally getting his big chance. He never liked the Pledge Program and was sick of the rigorous physical aspects of it. Now he could focus on what he loved: space exploration.
He walked down the hallway. To his left a window spanned from the ceiling to the floor and ran all the way down the entire hall. It must have been fifty meters in length. Josh paused halfway down and looked out into the brilliance of the sun. The light blinded him for a few seconds. The warmth made him comfortable — it made him want to stay and look awhile — perhaps even lean against the window and nap. It reminded him of when he was twelve years old in the Summer; when he would splash water out of his pool onto the concrete. He would wait until it got warm from the sun, and then he would lay in it and soak up all the heat. He was always cold.
When his vision came to, he could see the arena where he had recently made a fool of himself. He could see a small city a few miles in the distance, and lots of greenery painting a beautiful but plain forest picture. He took a deep breath as if it would be the last time he would see such a view. He turned and went back to his dormitory to do some research on insulation.
“Dude, you are such a jerk-wad,” stated Josh’s obnoxious roommate.
“Why, because I don’t have to be a slave to the Pledge Program anymore?” asked Josh, who was irritated.
“Exactly! We were supposed to be miserable together!” Josh’s roommate began to crack a smile.
"You’re right Riveran, I should have thought of that before I accepted — I better go tell the captain I can’t do it anymore.”
“Yes, thank you, that’s what a real friend would do.” said Riveran with a laugh..
“You know, I’m not going to miss training with you guys one bit.” Josh said.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. If I was smart enough to get out of the program I would in a heartbeat. Too bad I’m a moron.”
Josh continued, “Another bonus to getting straight into IGRRAT is that there’s —” he looked as if he desperately wanted to take back the sentence, “well, never mind.”
“What? What ole’ chap?” Riveran smiled and his cheeks became red. He looked like he could read Josh’s mind. “There’s a girl isn’t there? In the program with you? I should’ve known. Ole’ Josh, getting into the ‘space’ program for a girl,” Riveran said with excitement, “I should’ve known it wasn’t about space travel, discovering aliens, or living an awesome life where you make bookoos of money.”
Josh gave no response.
“Well, she won’t talk to you anyways. You’re way too nice,” Riveran said confidently. “Girls like jerks, like me.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “She’ll talk to you one time, realize you’re a nice guy, and move on. If anything, she’ll put you in the friend zone and you’ll be stuck there for the rest of your life. The only action you’ll get will be when you get to listen to her talk about other men. Trust me man, I see it all the time; then I scoop in, treat the girl like dirt, sleep with her, and move on. It’s a viscous cycle that I’ve been taking advantage of for years. You can either own the game or —”
“Let me stop you while you’re ahead, buddy,” Josh said to stifle his outrageous rant. “No good girl is going to want to be treated like dirt. Dirt likes dirt, and that’s why they like you.” he said with a smirk.
“Aren’t you a gentleman,” Riveran said sarcastically as he continued his twisted thought pattern, “Women today don’t respond to kindness and respect like they used to. They want one thing, and they want it with a jerk for some reason. I don’t argue with it, I just reap the benefits of it.”
Josh opened his laptop and began typing.
Riveran argued with Josh all the time about anything and everything. He just couldn’t let things go — whether he thought Josh was wrong or not didn’t matter to him, he just liked to argue. There did, however, always seem to be some effect of Josh’s words on Riveran, almost as if his humble and pure nature rubbed off on him. Riveran would never admit it, but he often times reflected on Josh’s worldview — his belief in God, his respect for authority, and of course, his gentlemanly approach to dating — they were so foreign to his own ideals that they seemed to stick around in his brain for a while after their encounters.
. . . . . . . .
Comuco: Planet in Sulcrus Galaxy
A powerful green hand burst through the interior of a hollow root to grab hold of a fen — a chicken-like animal on planet Comuco that is a shade of dark purple. The hand pulled the fen by the ankle back into the root, skinning it clean on its way down, sending feathers flying. It was here, in the dark hollow underneath the earth, that the mythological beast snapped the neck of the innocent animal and gently pushed the carcass into his backpack.
The monster was green all over, broad, and about twice the size of a human; his muscles popped out of every inch of his body; his teeth were sharp; some were long enough to hang over his bottom lips. His head was shaped like an ape’s; he had long and braided black hair, but it was pulled back and hung gently down his back, tucked behind a tan backpack.
The monster’s name was Mercum, or “Merc” as his tribe called him. What was most noticeable about him, though, was a red birthmark on his face. It ran across his left eye and came down his nose. It was undeniable. It contrasted greatly with his green complexion. The village doctor said it was simply a “discoloration of the skin,” but the village people believed it had a much darker explanation: they genuinely believed he was possessed by the Dark Lord—who is known by all of Sulcrus as the Principalian who rebelled against the great Creator.
The village people had good reason to believe such a thing; after all, it was right after he was born, with that stunning red scar across his face, that darkness fell over their entire planet. It was immediate, surely it had not been a coincidence. Dark clouds have consumed the sky ever since, blocking out the two suns that used to radiate Comuco with glory. Most of the plant life went extinct shortly after this event—except, of course, those rare and unfruitful species that could withstand such conditions.
Mercum looked up through the hole he had formed to check the time of day. He quickly saw a thrust of lightning rip across the sky so loudly it hurt his ears, signifying it was time to get back to camp. The dark storms that often characterized a night on Comuco would soon be coming. Additionally, it would pour rain, and the rain on planet Comuco was viscously large due to the slightly lower force of gravity.
He slung his weapon over his shoulder and began a jog back home.
He began to think about the days when his father took him hunting. It was exactly ten years before this very moment, when he was just a youngling. The hunting and farming was split between the two of them in those days. Now, it was just Merc, and he alone had to provide for his impoverished family.
He thought about what happened to his father, it was the day the Oppressors came. In fact, it was a rainy day just like this one, as was uncomfortably too common and too gloomy.
They were both ready to give up when they saw a herd of lakas trampling through the sumick trees. They ran alongside the herd until they could find an opportunity to strike down one of the beasts. These creatures looked like rhinoceroses in size, but their skin was quite slimy; their legs were long and thick, which made them difficult to take down; their heads closely resembled that of a shark, with rows of teeth going back into their skulls as far as one was willing to look. Needless to say, when provoked, they didn’t have a problem devouring other lifeforms.
As the pair ran alongside the herd, one of the lakas got off track and became separated from the herd. This was their chance. Mamos, Mercum’s father, pulled out his club and threw it harshly towards its front legs; with one sweeping force, it broke them both. The beast yelled for help, but the herd didn’t pay any attention. Merc and Mamos circled the beast, opposite one another to confuse it, as it roared back and forth at them in anguish. Mamos gave Merc a look and he knew exactly what to do. He drew an arrow with his bow and aimed it right at the beast between his eyes.
Before he let the arrow end the animal’s life, he had a brief conviction: these animals were intelligent; in fact, before Merc was born, Comucian villagers said they often had conversations with them — there were truly too many things to count that changed when the boy was born. As gross and demented as the animal looked, he still hated to end the life of one of Ilham’s creatures. But the villager’s stomachs needed him to be heartless. He sent the arrow flying.
The pair chopped up the beast, created a pallet out of smooth bark, and pulled the remains towards the village.
VROOOOM! — sounded a deafening jet engine. Merc and Mamos dropped the pallet ropes and ran to camp with their primitive weapons. Mamos got in front and soon was out of sight. He had escaped his son; Merc had never seen him run so fast. He began to hear repeated gun shots in the distance. A feeling of terror and fear came over him; a tingling sensation pulled down his spine and neck as the rain drenched him and the thunder roared.
Minutes later Merc arrived to a desolated camp: bullet holes, smoke, fire, and worst of all, his father, dead. In fact, all the men in the community were carcasses. Evidence revealed that they did not go down without a fight; only the women and children remained for this reason. Thankfully, Merc was only twelve at the time, and being fearful of the men in dark armor, he didn’t put up a fight—this was the only reason he was still alive ten years later.
Those who killed their fathers were known as the Oppressors. A group of masked soldiers who pledged worship and servitude to the Dark Lord. Upon occupation of Comuco, they developed a lifestyle of surveillance, enslavement, and frequent beatings for the Comucian people.
Now, Mercum was twenty-two years old. He quickly approached his village with a little food and a lot of remorse for the ten-year anniversary of his father’s death.
