Far-Fiction

Five-minute Fiction: 22:59-23:04

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Darker said as he swept the coat back and around adjusting the fit.

‘I am no such thing. I am merely clever enough to understand that in our profession the appropriate attire, while respectable among the common citizens, is truly not something we should be flaunting. I am more than willing to risk apprehension by the constabulary based on unlawful attire than be observed by members of the public. The college does not, at present, have a stellar reputation with the general populace of the City. They see us as an outmoded form of governmental control.’

‘A fact that is not true in any respect,’ Darker said. ‘The college was founded by members of the City’s upper echelons, that much is true, but it wasn’t done to make use of highly skilled assassins to murder political rivals but rather to bring rampaging noblemen into check. 

Five-minute Fiction: 23:55-00:00

‘There is some sense of plausible deniability in dressing like this,’ Grim said. He held out his hands to effect the uniqueness of the attire. ‘If I was not aware of the truth I could easily surmise that we are nothing more than street ruffians out on a night on the town. What do you think, Darker?’

‘I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with this. The last time I checked there were strict rules governing the attire to be worn by all Aluminists while active in the field. If we’re observed in our actions, or caught we would be subject to the laws that govern the normal populace, rather than the accords laid down between the City and the college.’

Grim let his arms drop to his sides. ‘Honestly, Darker, you are my friend and colleague, but you are always such a worrywart. By wearing these clothes we are in effect preventing ourselves from being discovered, thus the act of being discovered, which would render us in trouble, will not happen, because we will, in fact, not be caught…

Five-minute Fiction: 23:23-23:28

The engine came humming to life as Dag slipped from under the hood of the car and sat up. 

‘That should fix it,’ he said wiping the grease and oil on his coveralls. ‘Wasn’t anything too bad that needed to be done, just some mop and bucket work. Anything else I could help you with?’

The woman shook her head, a faint smile at the corners of her mouth. ‘How much do I owe you?’ she said reaching into her purse. 

‘Oh, let me just check.’

Dag crossed the garage and slipped into the small office that he and Mac shared. It wasn’t very spacious, and certainly couldn’t accommodate the two of them at once, but it was just big enough for one. 

Not done one of these in a while…

*

Photo courtesy of www.mandrykart.com

Colm stared into the distance. The immense pillars of stone stretching off toward the mountain peak at the edge of the horizon. His sword seemed so paltry, so small in contrast with the feats of masonry that were laid out before him. 

Mist clung to the earth, the tendrils ethereal, otherworldly, refusing to abandon this place so far from the warmth of the world, the warmth of the sun. But the sun came. Colm could see it, the ragged sphere casting strange reflections through the mist that had risen too high on the mountain and become clouds. 

But all things paled in comparison to the pillars. Might obelisks of twisted stone, carved, pitted, and scored with age, and exposure to the weather. The mountains were cruel mistresses come the snow, and the seasons had left their toll. They would remain though, the pillars were everlasting. Built long before the birth of man, and they would long out live…. 

Five-minute Fiction: 00:12-00:17

‘You’re killing me with kindness here, Hank,’ Derer said as he slipped through the hatch and dropped onto the deck of the landing pad. ‘I presume it was you who set me up with these lovely little spot?’

‘Well, I couldn’t have you landing this heap of junk with the other respectable ships. This junker is likely to have something fall off it and do some damage. Hell, I’m still amazed it’s still flying,’ Hank Thurlin said. 

He crossed under the wing of the ship, his hand outstretched. Derer took it, albeit reluctantly. There was a great deal more history than the other man was letting on.

‘Business is good then?’ Derer asked. ‘Otherwise you’d not be lumping me off to the middle of nowhere on this godforsaken station.’

‘It’s doing about right enough for the time we’ve been active. Had some troubles with the initial set up but things seem to have calmed down. I’d be lying if I said I…

Five-minute Fiction: 00:13-00:18

The door clicked shut with a sense of finality and Grover had to fight the urge to start banging on it. He let his arms drop to his sides and sat down on the solitary chair bolted to the floor of the room. They had taken the restraints off when they had shut him in and he rubbed at where the manacles at chafed leaving red welts on his skin. It was cool in the room, much more so than the rest of the building had felt, and the lights in the room had been set to very low level, and Grover hoped it was for his benefit and not for some ploy the police were employing.

Grover wasn’t even sure why he’d been brought in. He was so far out of touch with the current criminal class…

Five-minute Fiction: 00:40-00:45

‘I don’t care what rates you were getting, these are the rates I’m willing to offer. If you don’t like it, then you’ll have to find a new ship,’ Hanzel said. 

He slid the empty glass across the table and it disappeared into the dispenser. It reappeared topped to the brim with a crystal clear liquid. The Thurdian bristled in its chair. The fur collar around it’s neck shuddering. 

‘The agreement had been reached previously,’ it said, its voice wispy. 

‘Not with me it wasn’t. Look, I’m sorry that you think your previous contract was still relevant, but the change in ownership of the company means that all transportation contracts needed to be renegotiated. I can do that for you, but unless you’re willing to cooperate we might not be able to get anywhere. 

Five-minute Fiction: 22:53-22:58

Hampton pushed along the edge of the roof and dropped down onto the balcony. The night was cool on the exposed parts of his face, and his breath formed ice crystals on the lower portions of his mask. He slipped the rope from the grapnel and tied it securely to one of the stone adornments that lined the exterior of the balcony. 

The door to the room beyond was slightly ajar. The breeze stirred it gently…

Five-minute Fiction: 23:12-23:17

The ship shuddered as the landing brackets sunk into the rough earth of the field. Taggert toggled the shut off sequence and unstrapped himself from the pilot’s chair. Hanely, and Bronson were doing the same, Hanely checking the external environment before getting to her feet. 

‘It’s breathable all right. Not too good though. Breathers for any long duration off ship,’ she said. 

‘Good, another incentive not to stay here,’ Bronson said as he slipped through the doorway into the corridor.

The Condor wasn’t the biggest ship Taggert had flown on, but it was one of the better ones. It had a decent Spike Drive, and had good maneuverability in atmosphere, which was something note when buying a ship. Luckily he’d not bought the ship, rather he’d stolen it. 

‘Indigenous life?’ Taggert said…

Five-minute Fiction: 00:26-00:31

I had been in the dark so long that I had forgotten what the light was like. The dark was comfortable, peaceful, serene, this world was filled with noise, a cacophony of motion. I lay there trying to control my mind, to not let it stray. 

The door opened and she came in. Backlit by the fluorescent bulbs that cast a sickly yellow glow. She was like an angel descended into the deepest pits of hell to recover me. To save my soul. 

‘Get up,’ she said. 

I tried to stir, but my body resisted. 

‘I said, get up.’

Her boot collided with the steel frame of my bed. I struggled, trying, fighting, desiring to serve her. She must have been the one who had set me free. It would have been rude to refuse her command.

I tried to speak, but I had no words. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I rolled from my bed and stood. I reached for her, and with a blur she slammed me back against the wall, hard enough for my teeth to snap shut. There was life in the pain. 

I was alive. 

Five-minute Fiction: 15:26-15:31

Grim stooped and examined the twisted form. It had the shape of a man, four limbs, two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, and even a face, though almost a plaster mask, rather than something natural. The metal was smooth, polished to a mirror brightness. Grim pushed several pieces aside but there was little more than more of the same. Grimacing he straightened up and looked around the street. 

It was, for the most part deserted. People of the City usually decided to be absent when giant crashed filled their nighttime streets, but even then there should have been something. There was a hiss and the raucous sound of steel on steel as Grim threw himself aside. 

A sword of polished steel scythed through the air where he had been, and a Type-2 bolt clattered to the cobbles nearby and Grim put two and two together. He bounded over the pile of rubble, sparing only glance for the second figure that loomed out of the darkness, same as the first but still in one piece. 

The Tick-Tock paused, unsure of what to do. Grim was escaping that much was obvious, but the bolt had to have come from somewhere…

Five-minute Fiction: 15:21-15:26

Grunting Grim threw one leg then the other over the line and began to slowly pull himself toward the far building. With a sigh he alighted on the small ledge below a line of windows, and nearly fell off when a tiny voice called out in the night.

‘Geee, mista, what was that?’

‘Who? What?’ Grim said. 

The window nearest to him was open, the tiny form of a child framed in it. 

‘Me, mista, and what was that? Looks like a Tick-Tock, mista, but a wrecked one.’

‘Your guess is as good as mine, kid,’ Grim said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ 

Grim slipped down over the edge, and almost started screaming again as one of his feet slipped on something better left unidentified and he had to flail about to remain attached to the wall. 

The Tick-Tock lay in a heaped pile, metallic limbs bent and twisted by the force of the collision. 

Five-minute Fiction: 15:16-15:21

That was when the thing on the roof leapt. It soared out into the open air, its arms outstretched, and Grim felt it rather than saw it as it whizzed by, useless fingers grasping the empty air beneath his boots. It didn’t scream instead there was a roar and hiss of steam followed by an all mighty crash.

‘I said shut up!’ the familiar voice said. 

‘Sorry!’ Grim called as he steeled his nerve and glanced down. 

The immense form of the Tick-Tock lay in a pile, crumpled metal limbs rent and twisted. Steam hissed from various places. Twin points of dazzling red, flickered once, then died. 

‘Darker!’ Grim snapped looking all around. ‘Darker!’ But no answer came. ‘Oh come on, this is ridiculous.’

Five-minute Fiction: 15:11-15:16

There was nothing by silence. Grim, now able to take stock of the situation, but unwilling to actually look at where his coat had gotten caught, lest some element of narrative show him it was unraveling thus leading him to resume his plunge toward the ground. He scanned his head from one side to the other, his eyes searching the surrounding buildings, the windows, before edging up toward the rooftops. 

It was still there. An immense, humanoid shape, looming out of the darkness, most of its body hidden in shadows. Grim Grim didn’t bother to second guess himself, bur willed himself to look up, up above him, toward where his coat had gotten tangled. With a squawk he lurched upward and caught hold of the line just as the coat came free. The washing line bounced as his weight transferred from one apparatus to another. 

Five-minute Fiction: 15:06-15:11

…and due to some twist of fate had wound its way about it, stopping the downward progress, and robbing gravity of another of its victims. (Gravity, of course being a malevolent deity the delighted in the chance to cause harm, rather than the physical force that drew objects together, but Gravity wasn’t all bad, there was something to be said for the laws of attraction.)

‘Shut up!’ someone yelled from somewhere. It was followed by the crashing of a slamming window, and then another. 

Grim shut up. Or at least he ran out of breath, which led to situation of needing to take a moment and gasp again. Thus the new situation became evident. 

‘Darker!’ Grim hissed, his voice raspy, barely audible above the ambient noise. ‘Darker!’ he hissed again, slightly louder. ‘Darker where did it go? Did we get it?’