Spitting the bloody phlegm into my wife's favorite handkerchief, I totter over to the man restrained in the chair. Lifting an eyelid, I could see that he was probably half comatose from the shock of his injuries. Checking the belt tied around his bleeding arm, I take the already prepared syringe off the nearby table and jab it into his neck. Checking my watch, an antique from the same planet as my guest, I sit down opposite him and take a sip of apple juice from my suit.
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Sparrow's Delight
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Sparrow's Delight
Author:
mos1man
ISSUE #1
813Please respect copyright.PENANAyGjJJBTb2R
Most of us at the PSS, that's the Proxima Security Services for you people who are seeing this declassified sensory log, prefer to have water on these horribly long operations in deep space. Not me. Water's all well and good, but it's much easier to find than apple juice. Apple trees just won't grow on Proxima B for some reason, doesn't matter how much we slice and splice their DNA, it's the one import that just doesn't take hold to my eternal chagrin. So, they have to be imported from Earth or the moons of Saturn. Titan grows a hell of a lot of Apples for some reason. Why not Proxima?
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You unfortunate soul who happens to be reliving my last moments, may be curious as to why I'm thinking about apples when the fate of intergalactic peace may depend on my actions today. You may not be either, but since I don't have much time, get lost if you don't care. Now where was I?
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Coughing up some more blood I look at my already bloody handkerchief and just wipe away the green mess with the sleeve of my suit.
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Right. Apples.
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I love apples.
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That's it really.
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Nothing profound, no deep dark recollection of my childhood or significant life memory relating to the glorious fruit. They just taste very nice, and since I'm waiting for this moron to wake up I might as well enjoy a cool refreshing drink of my favorite brand of apple juice. By the way if CRGH Apple Juice still exists whenever you are, go get some, it's not a waste.
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Headquarters had really splurged on supplying me. Well, I guess even they knew I wasn't coming back this time. A fifty-five-year-old Natural like me was already a thing of the past, but for this I was perfect.
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Oh, looks like my brand-new friend is waking up.
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Getting comfortable, I watch as he slowly gains consciousness, my eyes on his body looking for every small signal that comes from him. A twitch of the muscle, movement of his eyelids, flare of the nostril. All the things that will tell me what I want to know about him. Well, all those things, plus the abnormally high dosage of CRX-7 I shot him with.
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"Where am I?" He stutters, broken and weak.
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I don't say anything. Now is not the time.
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"Who are you?" He says when he notices me sitting across from him. His pupils focus and his eyes widen. Interesting contrast in eye motion if you ask me, seeing someone concentrate then be scared to this extent.
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I chuckle and that seems to terrify him even more. I guess that could be considered a reasonable reaction. I mean, if I could see myself I'd also be scared. I can feel injuries and the white patches of hair drifting off my body like so many dandelion seeds. Fighting in an unshielded engine bay can do some nasty stuff to you. Still, it was this guy's fault so I don't know why he looks so frightened. If I didn't need him for information, I would have tossed him into the room and let him experience lethal doses of radiation for himself.
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"Lieutenant Able Blade, so nice to meet you." I say happily. Always important to look happy in an interrogation. Prisoners always worry when they see you looking so cheerful. "Or maybe I should say ex-lieutenant. Sorry for all of this my friend, but you have something I require quite badly and it's difficult for me to wait much longer."
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He looks very upset. Must be feeling the CRX working through his systems. A proverbial truth serum, CRX is banned by everybody. I mean, it's so illegal that even knowing how to make it can get you executed. A wonder drug like this, that makes every interrogation a cakewalk should be sold like candy, but everyone is terrified of the truth. We like to pretend that we want the truth but the fact that we want truth, isn't the truth. We'd rather live our lives in our... oops.
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"Damn, you Earthers just got another goal in. Looks like my time is running out. So, tell me Lieutenant who do you think will win this game of Hyperball?"
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He grunts and struggles against the restraints.
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"Now that's not a very nice reaction for these very first Intergalactic Olympics." I mean it. There's not a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
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... ok a hint is there, but he's not talking to me and being out in the dark depths of space for the last few days can make anyone lonely, let alone a fine specimen of a gentleman such as myself.
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Coughing.
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Coughing.
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My lungs feel like they'll come out with the next cough. Reaching over to wipe the blood that had hit the lieutenant I apologize, wheezing slightly. Not sure if that's age or radiation poisoning.
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"Sorry about that Able, I can call you Able, right?" Unfortunately, I just seem to be spreading the blood all over him so I stop.
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He sighs and hangs his head.
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"What do you want?" What's that I hear in his voice?
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Resignation?
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Defeat?
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Good signs.
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"Which ship my friend?" That's it. The million-credit question. It's why I hounded this poor fellow across two moons, a planet, and a dinky little pub based on an asteroid out on the Rim. They had some good apples there. Really good, sweet, juicy and crunchy.
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"It's a freighter called the Sparrows Delight. Small, 1400-ton displacement. Twin ion engines and unarmed." The wooden tone of the CRX that I know so well. One of the reasons the PSS wants me to go, I know way too much about the stuff and its use.
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I swing to the ships main console and tap a few buttons. There we go. Locked on and moving in the right direction.
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Let me see. ETA 2 days and 5 hours.
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Earth time, this is the lieutenant's vessel after all.
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"Well that's it, the day is saved. Or will be saved soon. Why don't we chat a little lieutenant?" I glance at the screen to our side when I hear some cheering. "Would you look at that. We tied. What do you think Able?"
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"I've always preferred Grayson, his ability as a spike guard is phenomenal."
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"Ah! A connoisseur of the game! We have much to discuss it seems. Indeed, Grayson has an exceptional ability at sensing where a breakthrough may occur, but I would still place my bets on Livdov being able to break through." It's really excellent news that I make this final journey with a fellow Hyperian!
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"Livdov has a weak left strike, doesn't have penetrating power." The wooden tone tells me that he's being coerced to respond but I already knew that would happen, humans are weak after all.
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"Nonsense he has technique to compensate for the strength he lacks." I snort. It's the human gesture I love the most, blowing air out through my nostrils to show derision. Wonderful people these Earthlings, strange that some of their kind are so hell bent on genocide.
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Hyperball is the best sport.
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Don't get me wrong, the other multispecies sports all have their place in the Cooperative, but Hyperball has the best combination of power versus dexterity versus intelligence that caters to all walks of life and species. Don't have power? Use your dexterity. Don't have dexterity? Use your intelligence, and so on and so forth. Fascinating game.
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Talking to my unwilling guest I learned quite a lot about Earth, Humans and that terrorist movement called Terra First over the next two days. Seems this poor sap was recruited after he was discharged from the military on trumped up charges. Insulted a member of the plutocracy and for the Humans that's the end of their career. Turns out that plutocrat had significant trade relations with us as well so, as can be imagined the Terra First people found a wonderfully primed military trained recruit who was just ready to fall into line with their, Humans first and Aliens never, propaganda.
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He also likes Hyperball and a strange fascination with some ancient art known as Kabuki. Wish I had a chance to look that up. I think I would have gotten along quite well with Able if he wasn't a dangerous terrorist and I an operative of Proximas foremost elite agency. Alas, such are the vagaries of fate.
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Looking at my screen I could tell we were within 100km of the Sparrows Delight. Insanely close as far as space was concerned.
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Time to say goodbye I guess.
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First, most importantly. Apple Juice. I'll leave a few sips for the end and take the rest now, probably wouldn't be able to taste it much anyway at the last moment. Arna, if you get this somehow, I miss you. Wish I didn't have to go meet your mother so soon, but you'll be fine. Feed the kids properly and watch out for sneaky boys. They love to hunt single mothers like you. Sneaky, vicious creatures they are.
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Standing up I walk to Able and gently shake him awake as I take my pistol out. Waking up groggily he glances at the screens at the pilot's console and looks at me.
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"They won't stop you know." His wooden tone has vanished. Excellent, he won't go into the Dark without his mind.
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"Of course, my friend, but at least a few million sentients will be safe without 1400 tons of starship plowing through them." I smile at him gently and place the gun against his temple. "I kind of liked you my human friend, but now it is time for you to go. I don't think you want to see what comes next." He nods and closes his eyes. A worthy, if misguided man, this friend of mine.
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"I will follow you soon." I whisper and pull the trigger.
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Turning back to the pilots seat I prepare the engines to overcharge and gently place the handkerchief in front of me. Oh poor soul who relives my life right now, know that I am happy as I drink my apple juice and fly straight towards the Sparrows Delight. Don't forget CRGH is the best. See you beyond the Dark one day.
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Would you look at that?
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Seeing an explosion at this distance makes it look really pretty.
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Wonder if there's a reason its color is........
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TRANSMISSION TERMINATED.
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RECORDING CG-FG-AX-1000034529 COMPLETE.
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OPERATIVE LOST.
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MISSION COMPLETE.
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REVIEW RECORDING AGAIN?
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