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Destiny - jammi - 10-19-2008
[font=Trebuchet Ms]I
Education for Leisure - Carol Ann Duffy
"Today I am going to kill something. Anything.
I have had enough of being ignored and today
I am going to play God. It is an ordinary day,
a sort of grey with boredom stirring in the streets."
"Today I am going to kill something. Anything.
I have had enough of being ignored and today
I am going to play God. It is an ordinary day,
a sort of grey with boredom stirring in the streets."
I am telling you, that boy is... Wrong! Something is wrong in his head! There was a muffled scraping noise as someone pushed a chair back, and dull footsteps as they paced irritably. "Last nights events were the last straw."
I idly played with the kitchen knife that I had resting between my fingers, recalling what I had done with it the night before. The hound had lasted a long time before bleeding out. I grinned at the memory the red and white, howls of the still living beast and the screams of the maid that disturbed my wonderful work.
The voice continued on the other side of the oak doors. "We need to get him help before something dire happens." I grinned to myself. Something dire was about to happen, something genius they just didn't appreciate my talent. And that had been Jones, the bigoted fool father employed as a lawyer.
"The staff are talking. Soon there'll be questions asked and fingers pointed. Attention we can't afford at this stage of the venture." There was a faint murmur of agreement from the other listeners. I supposed my father was among them, the gutless wretch that he was. I honestly dont know where my talent manifested from it obviously wasnt him.
I tucked the blade into a trouser pocket and wandered down the thickly carpeted hallway, content to let conspiracies fly amongst the Drawing Room Plotters. I idly cast my eyes over the pompous oil paintings that ordained the panelled walls and wondered which of my ancestors I could thank for my unique mind. Maybe none; perhaps I was an anomaly, a bright spark of triumph contrasting against the backwater Neanderthals of my familys past?
//After reading this, please can you leave a comment here: http://discoverygc.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=25815 detailing what you thought about the story, and how you think it can be improved. That could be about writing style, grammatical mistakes or unpopular plot twists. To nag me to keep posting in a story, bio or other RP type thing, have a look at this http://discoverygc.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=26674 Oh and enjoy!//
Destiny - jammi - 10-20-2008
Raised voices from the drawing room. I snickered quietly to myself. I had long known of their petty scams and schemes. A light rain was now pattering against the window pane, so I walked to it, gazing out across my estate. Soon to be my estate. Cambridge had always provided for me subjects for my research, blinkered students to work for me. I snickered again and contemplated the future.
I'd grown bored of the corridor, and headed for my personal library. The servants were forbidden from entering here. There all my research to my true love resided, everything that made my short nineteen years matter. Xeno-archaeology reports, scientific guesswork, banned media reports and literature from Rhineland 800AS, biological profiling I had gathered from my subjects, extensive reports gleaned and stolen from the Rhineland Military and Liberty government on active Alien Artefacts they had stolen. I was proud of this archive. It was my life, and had taken every one of my contacts and resources to obtain the information.
I had been among the few granted permits to visit the desecrated archaeological sights on Sprague in 811AS, and I had been one of the few who were assigned to Dean Harmans research team at the age of sixteen! My mind was a masterpiece, and soon all of Sirius would know its wonder. I pulled the knife from my pocket and fidgeted with it for a while, before pocketing it, picking up a single heavy book from the table and leaving.
Soon I would be able to continue my research, among the best, with all that I deserved, deserving the best. New Berlin was beckoning to me, my destiny entwined with its harsh winters and rocky crags. Soon my research would be complete, and all that I wished for would be mine!
Destiny - jammi - 10-20-2008
I paced around my room, looking first at my book before tossing it aside in disgust. I was bored, the monochrome existence I had lived up until that moment disturbing and frustrating me. Those around me were obstacles. What right did they have to oppose a genius?! Most of all my fool-father. Soon he would be dealt with though, but first he had his uses.
I wandered the hallways, looking for a subject. Something to profile, to test to the limits. Ive already taken the hound. That was uncooperative. How can a genius progress when those around him are unwilling and dull? I supposed I had best talk to my father before he attempted to thwart my rise to power further more. Sabotage, conspiracy. How do these people not realize who I am?
I knock on the door, and see the old man peer through the peephole. Petrified in his own home... He was weak, ready to fall. And fall he would, Id ensure it. All that was his would rightfully be mine. Conquest of the strongest. Sabotage, conspiracy. Divide and conquer.
What do you want my son? He croaked like the infirm schemer he was. He was unfit to wear the title Lord, he clutched, wrapped around him like a shroud. I ignored him and pushed into his room, peering around with open contempt.
I want to move father. To New Berlin. The University there is more suited to my studies. Dean Harman himself has told me so. I spoke coldly. My father studied me quizzically for a moment, before I saw the familiar weasel-like look spreading across his face. He thought he had won. He had been looking for a way to get rid of me for months. The fool was playing directly into my hands, as I thought he would. He was pathetically predictable.
Destiny - jammi - 10-22-2008
Oh really? Your Alien studies, yes? I glared at him accusingly. Well, if Harman recommends you... Ill get in touch with Jones and see if he can have you transferred. Will they accept you? I felt the sting of this comment as if I had been slapped. Had this blinded idiot insinuated that I, an exception, a unique faucet of brilliance, would not be able to gain access to an institution of New Berlin Universitys par? The dusty scholars and self-absorbed faculty would fall over themselves to obtain a student of my calibre. Despite this... They were the best I could reasonably hope to find.
I laughed mirthlessly under my breath before making a measured response, staring through my father with a venom that could put the lethal toxin of a Kurile Sea Serpent to shame. Father cringed, and seemed to crumple slightly into the shell of his clothes.
What do you think father? He made a small shrug. I walked out, my patience at its end. I had preparations to make. I needed a ship, or at least something I could pay to take me to Rhineland. Something as menial as piloting a transport could be left to someone else. The servants could deal with packing my possessions as well. That is what they were there for. I also had the other matter to deal with. The one that could make or break me. That part of my plot had to run flawlessly, or I would burn alongside my broken dreams and crumbling destiny.
Destiny - jammi - 10-24-2008
The infernal machine was ridiculous. This tiny ship... How could they expect someone of my standing to travel in that mobile scrap-yard? I could see the Armoured Transport squatting on the landing pad as I walked across the blast hardened concrete. A slightly greasy looking man I took to be captain stood grinning wonkily at me. I glared at him before snapping my fingers and pointing back towards the small mound of luggage that was being unloaded from a baggage train behind me. While the transport was less than adequate, I might as well let inferiors know who their superiors were.
Without looking back I strode aboard the ship and looked around the gloomy cargo hold. A deckhand gave me a sour look. I fingered the knife in my pocket gingerly. I should by all means teach the wretch a lesson for his insolence, but that might prove counterproductive in the long run. The less attention I drew the better. For the time being. Eventually, all of Sirius would bask in my glory.
I found my room, from the look of the outside a small shabby affair. Steven was printed on the door. I pushed it open gingerly and peered around. There was a small bunk with a fridge doubling as a bedside table. Pathetic. A person of my stature should never be degraded as to living in such squalor. I hear the tannoy blaring, probably the greasy man from the landing plateau.
All crew, report to launch stations! Well be airborne in T-minus 5 seconds, so get moving yall! The Dauntlessll be setting course to New Berlin. The voices Libertonian accent grated on my nerves, so I would be happy when the trip was complete, and I could disembark and hopefully never clap eyes on the Dauntless again in my life.
Destiny - jammi - 10-24-2008
After a few moments there was a bone jarring shudder as the transport lifted off, and a slight sense of disorientation as it angled upwards to lock onto the docking ring. I was further knocked off balance when the artificial gravitational fields were enabled, which appeared to be calibrated to Manhattan gravity. The effect was to give me an unsettled feeling as I became slightly heavier than the moment before.
The floor was now steady, probably because it had now entered space proper. I pushed out of my cabin and craned my neck up and down the corridor. Dim lights flashed at either end, casting twisting and warping shadows along its length. I was glad I was off the planet. Once I reached Freeport One I could also put the second portion of my plan into motion. The corridor was cold. Colder than Cambridge. I had always been analytical, so I placed a guess on the temperature. Pulling my blast coat closer around me I stepped out.
The cargo bay was also empty. The sullen deckhand from earlier had disappeared. A number of large grey crates had replaced him. I looked closer. The lids were held down by a small lock controlled by a bio-sensor. I guessed they would be programmed to the recipient who would open them on arrival. My scientific curiosity got the better of me, and my intimate knowledge of technology took over.
Popping the electric control cover open, I rearranged a few wires and pressed various buttons. Hydraulic locks hissed as the crate slid open. Looking inside rows of shiny SDSG firearms gleamed at me. I believe they are produced by a Bounty Hunter group, the Search/Destroy Agency? At any rate they could be useful. Interesting, perhaps. I scooped one out of its packing and sealed the crate again. Id work on breaking the bio-IDs while I travelled.
Destiny - jammi - 10-24-2008
Ok folks, grab something sturdy, were about to dock! The captain was jabbering again. Was glanced out one of the small rooms portholes to see the bulk of Freeport One looming over us. There was a dull grinding noise as docking clamps gripped the transport, then the floor shook as we were pulled in, followed by the same uneasy feeling of changing weight I had experienced when we left the planet. I assumed the stations gravity overrode our own. So far all was going to plan.
Youll have two hours here. Were loading on cargo, but I wouldnt suggest leaving for the bar alone. Therere all sorts of undesirables lurkin out there if ya get what I mean. But that was exactly what I was counting on. My contact and his men should be waiting for me. It was time to start the ball moving, to light the ignition that would blast my past to pieces and forge a life anew from the embers. It was time to cut my ties with Bretonia.
The bar was dim, hostile men glaring at me as I entered. Several could be identified as Zoners by ID cards pinned to their chest while others, large Hispanic men were marked as Corsairs by gang tattoos and scars. I was looking for one in particular. Tanned skin, dark hair, probably in his mid thirties. There would be a woman sitting near him. Also Corsair with similarly dark hair and eyes. I spotted them in the corner discussing something in a hushed tone. Occasionally one would look up at me, almost speculatively before returning to their discussion. I slowly picked my way over, hand on the now functional SDSG hidden in my pocket.
Destiny - jammi - 10-24-2008
Standing over them I looked down at the scrap of paper I had been sent on Cambridge. You are Mendez and Sanchez? Quietly I despised the savages before me. They were nothing but animals, but alike animals they had their uses. Dirty work for one. A Corsair had no morals, apparently save a misguided sense of honour. I supposed I could play off that. The man slowly looked up at me.
By coincidence we are. Whos asking? I shuffled on the spot for a moment before answering.
My names not important. I was told by a Junker you could help me. I want a man dead. And I have enough money to make it worthwhile The man looked at the woman and smiled, before reassuming his composure and staring back at me icily.
Senor, do you see any Guild insignia on my flight jacket? No? I am no honourless Bounty Hunter gringo, comprende? Give your money to one of those wretches. I swallowed my anger. He was playing games with me. Of course he would accept the job. Give me a very good reason why I should take the job, or even why I shouldnt hunt you down for daring to imply I am no better than a back-stabbing sell-sword, Si? He motioned to the seat next to him. And if you even consider using that firearm in your pocket, youll be dead before you can aim it. I carefully withdrew my hand and placed it on the table. He grinned at my slyly. Thats better. No sense in hurting yourself, no? Id had enough of this cocky Corsairs games; it was time to cut to the chase.
Destiny - jammi - 10-24-2008
Listen Corsair. There is a Bretonian man I was dead, and I have twenty million credits to ensure the job is done. If you dont want to take the job, Ill take my business elsewhere! I was bluffing. There was no-one else I knew about. The Corsair gave a low whistle. The targets name is Lord George Aldridge. Ill give you all the information you need. Are you interested?
The Corsair slouched back in his seat, with a dark look on his face. Aldridge, the Bretonian Lord... I know of him, as does the Familia. Ill consort with mi Don, Im sure hell be interested in taking him... Alive. I grinned on the inside but shrugged on the outside.
I need him dead. Cut the deal to fifteen million and you can do what you want with him. Alive or dead father was soon to disappear. If my suspicions about what the Corsairs wanted him for were correct, he wouldnt be alive for long. It was more than likely they had been on the losing side of one of my fathers more ambitious and less legal schemes. That was that aspect taken care of. I handed the Corsair a data chip containing specifications of my fathers pleasure yacht and its intended route for the following week.
The Corsair grinned deceitfully and handed the chip to Mendez before snapping off a sentence in rapid Hispanic and laughing. The woman smirked. I stood and walked back to the Dauntless, dreaming happy dreams of the future and how to repay the Corsair for his insolence. And then came the fear.
The fear of failure.
Destiny - jammi - 10-29-2008
I continued to pace irritably around my room. I should never have entrusted such a vital task to an untrustworthy, double crossing pirate. Maybe I should have done it myself? Poison? Certainly not any form of physical violence, after all the BPA knows about that kind of thing and then my game would have been up. A Corsair attack would not look suspicious. Well... not contracted murder at any rate. People were killed by Corsairs every day.
At a rough guess, Id expect results in the next three or so days. Then maybe thered be a net-message, or a messenger telling me how sorry they were to inform me that my father had passed away. Of course Id have to attend the funeral to deflect suspicion, or the will reading at the very least. And then all that was his would be mine.
I continued to pace a little longer before flicking a monitor screen on. A blustered looking Colonial News Service reporter was mutely mouthing words into a microphone, while flames leapt into the sky behind her. A bar scrolled across the top of the screen, reading Fire fighters struggle to control ferocious blaze in Cambridge fields'. After that I was alert and turned the volume on.
The camera swung around to an airborne angle, probably from a skiff, panning over the leaping flames. I felt my blood run cold. I numbly felt for my communicator as it buzzed in my trouser pocket. Looking down, I felt the bile rising in my throat. They had my comms channels and knew my name...