2a: White and Green
The undulation of the man’s walk and the softness of his shoulder were making my mind drift. I hadn’t known the man for long, only a couple of centuries or so, on and off. I often wondered what made him tick; he wasn’t your usual Hashashi, professional to a point that their trousers always had creases in them, even when they were wearing projections. No, he was the man, pure and simple. The most feared and respected problem solver in the Human Congregation, and beyond. It was rumoured that he took down a Liaman single handed, which is impossible, but the legend grows.
I once asked him why he was called the man. He said he couldn’t remember. The drugs the Hashashi take to segment their brain, hiding the knowledge that might get them killed in a complex maze of neurochemicals and rewired neurons, meant that some of the information never returned. Forever lost, only occasionally bubbling to the surface as a flash of imagery or sense of déjà vu. That or he was lying, and he is a very good liar.
“What’s he up to now?” The voice of Marvin Hue, an embedded human who was currently occupying the Indefinite Class Warship huddled behind the third moon of the gas giant interrupted my train of thought.
“Walking along, I don’t know, stop pestering me.”
“So he accepted your offer of help?”
“Yes.” Marvin was nominally my superior though hierarchy didn’t really exist; the Congregation was just that, a loose collection of states that adhere to a common faith. That everyone should be allowed to believe whatever they want. The Sanctum controlled the nuts and bolts of trade, currency, banking, security and weights and measures. Everything else was left up to each state, be they planets, habitats or in some cases whole ships. There was only one rule: no armies. The Sanctum’s army would deal with any aggression towards a member of the Congregation. Spying was left to anybody who felt like it.
“Don’t trust him.” The fact I wasn’t even a member of the congregation, expelled for destroying a Lubian habitat, which wasn’t my fault, but was, was sometimes lost on Marvin. Not his fault, Warship didn’t have the biggest neural hubs.
“I wasn’t planning to; do you think he trusts me?” I moved slightly to the left and ducked as the man swept past a hanging sign.
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
There was a miniscule pause. “No,”
“So we all know where we stand then.” I began trying to decipher the DNA code lock to the briefcase; it was complex, quantum level with tripartite backup subroutines. I sent an info packet containing his DNA and the lock mechanism to the rest of me, hidden in the wake of one Indefinite Class Warship near the third moon of the gas giant. The six other crew members were arguing over whether to abandon this contract, the no’s were winning but only because Whitchel White had been mentioned.
“Where are you now?”
Marvin you moron. “I am sitting on the target’s shoulder, we are approaching what looks like a restaurant though by the look of the man throwing up outside I would question that description. Those two IS flunkies are still on our tail and there is at least one, if not two, Essentials watching as well, probably from central hub, one is in the guise of a crow and the other, quite cleverly, as a man throwing up outside a restaurant.” I waited for the inevitable.
“What is your guise?”
“Guess.” The man slid a small device from his pocket and tapped it onto the back of the man throwing up, instantly the image faded to reveal a small grey metallic box which fizzled and spat on the ground. "Make that one Essential."
“A small green monkey.”
Not completely stupid then. “Correct.”
There was a fury of static, swearing in digital. “This was meant to be a covert op.”
“Please, have you read the contract?” I knew he hadn’t, only three men, apart from my crew, had. Besides the best cover was full view and I had spent several decades honing my outlaw image, I had a reputation to protect. “Leave me alone, I’ve got to observe.”
“Fine…” Our communication link fell silent. I wondered if ten million tonne warships could sulk. I decided, in Marvin’s case, they could.
I once asked him why he was called the man. He said he couldn’t remember. The drugs the Hashashi take to segment their brain, hiding the knowledge that might get them killed in a complex maze of neurochemicals and rewired neurons, meant that some of the information never returned. Forever lost, only occasionally bubbling to the surface as a flash of imagery or sense of déjà vu. That or he was lying, and he is a very good liar.
“What’s he up to now?” The voice of Marvin Hue, an embedded human who was currently occupying the Indefinite Class Warship huddled behind the third moon of the gas giant interrupted my train of thought.
“Walking along, I don’t know, stop pestering me.”
“So he accepted your offer of help?”
“Yes.” Marvin was nominally my superior though hierarchy didn’t really exist; the Congregation was just that, a loose collection of states that adhere to a common faith. That everyone should be allowed to believe whatever they want. The Sanctum controlled the nuts and bolts of trade, currency, banking, security and weights and measures. Everything else was left up to each state, be they planets, habitats or in some cases whole ships. There was only one rule: no armies. The Sanctum’s army would deal with any aggression towards a member of the Congregation. Spying was left to anybody who felt like it.
“Don’t trust him.” The fact I wasn’t even a member of the congregation, expelled for destroying a Lubian habitat, which wasn’t my fault, but was, was sometimes lost on Marvin. Not his fault, Warship didn’t have the biggest neural hubs.
“I wasn’t planning to; do you think he trusts me?” I moved slightly to the left and ducked as the man swept past a hanging sign.
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
There was a miniscule pause. “No,”
“So we all know where we stand then.” I began trying to decipher the DNA code lock to the briefcase; it was complex, quantum level with tripartite backup subroutines. I sent an info packet containing his DNA and the lock mechanism to the rest of me, hidden in the wake of one Indefinite Class Warship near the third moon of the gas giant. The six other crew members were arguing over whether to abandon this contract, the no’s were winning but only because Whitchel White had been mentioned.
“Where are you now?”
Marvin you moron. “I am sitting on the target’s shoulder, we are approaching what looks like a restaurant though by the look of the man throwing up outside I would question that description. Those two IS flunkies are still on our tail and there is at least one, if not two, Essentials watching as well, probably from central hub, one is in the guise of a crow and the other, quite cleverly, as a man throwing up outside a restaurant.” I waited for the inevitable.
“What is your guise?”
“Guess.” The man slid a small device from his pocket and tapped it onto the back of the man throwing up, instantly the image faded to reveal a small grey metallic box which fizzled and spat on the ground. "Make that one Essential."
“A small green monkey.”
Not completely stupid then. “Correct.”
There was a fury of static, swearing in digital. “This was meant to be a covert op.”
“Please, have you read the contract?” I knew he hadn’t, only three men, apart from my crew, had. Besides the best cover was full view and I had spent several decades honing my outlaw image, I had a reputation to protect. “Leave me alone, I’ve got to observe.”
“Fine…” Our communication link fell silent. I wondered if ten million tonne warships could sulk. I decided, in Marvin’s case, they could.
posted by M D Richards at 9:16 AM
2 Comments:
Nice, I like that. The sulking warship is a nice touch, though I think your introduction of Marvin is a bit awkward and confusing. Like I didn't really pick up on what you meant till I'd read the whole way through.
"an embedded human who was currently occupying the Indefinite Class Warship huddled behind the third moon of the gas giant interrupted my train of thought"
Could change to "a man embedded in the great hulk of an Indefinite Class Warchip." This seems a big enough concept for one sentance. I found including more information on top of that (i.e. gas giant....) in the same sentance detracts from the initial statement.
Though this may just be due to my high levels of attention deficit this morning due to the several pints i had last night.
I alos like the inclusion of weights and measures. Just brings the mental image of a drunken hairy welshman to mind.
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