TITLE: Rolling
AUTHOR: Makiko
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Challenge response to cofax' "on another planet" request.
SUMMARY: "Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the mercy of your hospitality."
Rolling along.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: For Pene.
*
The zom fountains he recognized, the design clearly copied, though whether Scarran or
Sebacean he wasn't sure. It was possible he remembered them from his infancy, running
water down the raked strip of hydroplast to irrigate the garden. Womb sounds. Or he
remembered them from Tauza's lab, slick with chemical sterilizers. But they made that
whoosh, that soft-water whoosh and he remembered, and they were the same here. He
bent over the fountain and washed his face and it stung.
Everything else was strange on this world, even the people, though translator microbes
and hand gestures got Ndube a room on the back of a flatbed and a bite to eat. On Hosh,
they explained, everything was mobile, the structures on wheels ran across roads that
were themselves on rails. It hadn't always been like this, just the last ten generations or so
when the radiation from the sun grew so toxic that half the population died or evacuated,
and the remaining cities had to roll a slow beat matching the planet's spin, always on the
dark side, always a step ahead of the sun. Perpetual escape, perpetual safety, timed to
perfection. He liked that. Three days and already he thought of staying here, in the dark,
the whoosh of the zom fountain and the slow clack of the wheels and tracks beneath the
truck. On the other hand, of course, there was revenge.
Ndube left his cabin and crossed the sliding sidewalk under trees bolted to spongy totem
poles and pink streetlamps barely cutting the dark. Down the street, at the pub, the Hosh
still looked at him strangely, but they were friendly almost to a fault and he pitied them
for the day the Scarrans would come and rape and pillage this world as they'd done so
many others.
"Just water," Ndube said. "Very cold."
The bartender blinked his enormous purple eye and flipped on the tap. "See you in here a
lot," the Hosh said. Ndube nodded. "Where you from, friend?"
"Nowhere in particular," Ndube said. "Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the
mercy of your hospitality."
"That'll be ten dumars," the bartender said, and Ndube knocked back the glass of water
and set it up on the bar for a refill. He felt the cool trickle through his chest, and exhaled.
"Hey, stranger," Ndube recognized the voice of the flatbed driver and turned around. "PK
cruiser just entered the system, tax collectors and some military folk, I think. They
always show up this time of month to kick us around a little and collect their dues.
Anyway, you wanted to know."
"Yes," Ndube said, and stood up. "Thank you."
He was brilliant, and charming the Sebaceans would be easy. No one understood the
Scarran threat better than he did, and with the force of the Peacekeepers in his control, he
would finally have retribution. It would be quick and brutal, easy. Tauza would pay.
"You leaving, then?" The bartender waved a scaly paw.
"My destiny awaits," Ndube said.
"Well, roll along, then," the Hosh said. "What's your name, anyway?"
Ndube grinned. He'd been waiting for that. "Scorpius," he said, and he liked the taste of
his new name on his tongue. And then he left, because he had work to do.
AUTHOR: Makiko
RATING: G
CATEGORY: Challenge response to cofax' "on another planet" request.
SUMMARY: "Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the mercy of your hospitality."
Rolling along.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: For Pene.
*
The zom fountains he recognized, the design clearly copied, though whether Scarran or
Sebacean he wasn't sure. It was possible he remembered them from his infancy, running
water down the raked strip of hydroplast to irrigate the garden. Womb sounds. Or he
remembered them from Tauza's lab, slick with chemical sterilizers. But they made that
whoosh, that soft-water whoosh and he remembered, and they were the same here. He
bent over the fountain and washed his face and it stung.
Everything else was strange on this world, even the people, though translator microbes
and hand gestures got Ndube a room on the back of a flatbed and a bite to eat. On Hosh,
they explained, everything was mobile, the structures on wheels ran across roads that
were themselves on rails. It hadn't always been like this, just the last ten generations or so
when the radiation from the sun grew so toxic that half the population died or evacuated,
and the remaining cities had to roll a slow beat matching the planet's spin, always on the
dark side, always a step ahead of the sun. Perpetual escape, perpetual safety, timed to
perfection. He liked that. Three days and already he thought of staying here, in the dark,
the whoosh of the zom fountain and the slow clack of the wheels and tracks beneath the
truck. On the other hand, of course, there was revenge.
Ndube left his cabin and crossed the sliding sidewalk under trees bolted to spongy totem
poles and pink streetlamps barely cutting the dark. Down the street, at the pub, the Hosh
still looked at him strangely, but they were friendly almost to a fault and he pitied them
for the day the Scarrans would come and rape and pillage this world as they'd done so
many others.
"Just water," Ndube said. "Very cold."
The bartender blinked his enormous purple eye and flipped on the tap. "See you in here a
lot," the Hosh said. Ndube nodded. "Where you from, friend?"
"Nowhere in particular," Ndube said. "Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the
mercy of your hospitality."
"That'll be ten dumars," the bartender said, and Ndube knocked back the glass of water
and set it up on the bar for a refill. He felt the cool trickle through his chest, and exhaled.
"Hey, stranger," Ndube recognized the voice of the flatbed driver and turned around. "PK
cruiser just entered the system, tax collectors and some military folk, I think. They
always show up this time of month to kick us around a little and collect their dues.
Anyway, you wanted to know."
"Yes," Ndube said, and stood up. "Thank you."
He was brilliant, and charming the Sebaceans would be easy. No one understood the
Scarran threat better than he did, and with the force of the Peacekeepers in his control, he
would finally have retribution. It would be quick and brutal, easy. Tauza would pay.
"You leaving, then?" The bartender waved a scaly paw.
"My destiny awaits," Ndube said.
"Well, roll along, then," the Hosh said. "What's your name, anyway?"
Ndube grinned. He'd been waiting for that. "Scorpius," he said, and he liked the taste of
his new name on his tongue. And then he left, because he had work to do.