R for angst, violence and abuse.
This is dark and depressing - I don't know exactly what devil was riding me. I hacked this down in 3 hours and it's only the raw outlining.
+++++ Into the Dark ++++++
Prologue
"Nancy Garner!"
Graduation. I've made it! I'm sitting here with all my mates, waiting for them to call my name. Since this year they do the alphabet backwards, I'll be the last. How fitting: I've always been the last, the slowest, the oldest.
It's not because I'm stupid or - as they like to call me here - slow witted. But all the others here are pulled from the pods. They have jacks in their heads so they can pump information into their brains at dizzying speed. I have to _read_ and learn by heart. What they do in about 3 months takes me a year or so.
"Hideo Funemono!"
So I watched many of them graduate while I was still learning like crazy. But today is my day! I can see Gordon on his crutches sitting in the rows together with my sister and my big brother. They are damned proud, I know. I wish my parents could be here...
"Nicholas Chandler!"
I'm an awesome hacker, no doubt. And I've always dreamed of being a fighter, like my brother George. They call him Dozer out there! Still dunno if they do because he can look pretty tired or because he's build like a brick-shithouse.
"Michael Boudreaux!"
That's me. I get up and I surely grin like an idiot when I receive my diploma and my dispatching form. I am now officially an operator, and in three days from now I'll be on my first ship. Whoa! But first we'll have the ultimate party tonight.
I can hardly wait to run over to my people. When I finally do, they all embrace me. I lift up my sister and whirl her around. She is proud but also sad: she knows I will leave soon and may get hurt or even worse.
Gordon is an ever-present reminder: We had planned to graduate together, but I had been sick during the finals, so I had to repeat the last year. While Gordon lost most of his right leg during the first months out in the sewers.
Boy, that was hard on him! I mean, he's an impressive appearance: 6'4", slender, long jet-black hair. Quite a Casanova. And now he's 21 and crippled. Zion had lost one of its best pilots. If he's lucky they will give him a prosthesis and he can go back on duty instead of spending his life here, doing some job on welfare like most veterans.
By the way: Gordon is definitely my best friend. We grew up in the same street on C-level. We know each other so well that most of the time we know what the other one is just thinking. Psychic!
First Day
There she is! The Mayflower. The ship I'm supposed to be the operator on. Here at the docks it is always very busy, ships coming and leaving, getting maintained. Damn bright lights all over the place and now that I am standing in front of that flying monster I feel very excited.
"Hey, what are you waiting for?" a red-haired guy calls down from the hatch, ripping me out of my reverie.
I hurry up the stairs, offering my hand with a smile. I'm a nice guy and most people like me - just as I like them.
"Hi! I'm Mich -errm, Tank." I have to get used to these aliases!
The guy just nods and turns away while he starts talking:
"Nop's the name. Come-on, I have to show you your room."
I follow him to a small single-room that is supposed to be my 'home' for the time being. I open the locker, but Nop wants me to come and see the captain first. I follow him, but I could have done the search myself: most ships are built the same way so if you change the ship you don't need to study the blueprints to know where to find the mess or the bathroom.
My captain: Karma. A bit shorter than I am - 5'10" maybe - piercing blue eyes and black hair, the usual pale white skin. Quite a remarkable mixture. He's matrix-born. For some biological reasons I don't quite understand most Matrix-born people never develop a good build. They always stay skinny and don't have good articulation or stamina. Physically they're rather weak.
I am 6' and all muscles. I'm not narcissistic, but the looks I get speak their own language. I've always been a good wrestler at school. But it wasn't too hard to defeat the skinny 'pluggies'.
And like most of them, my captain is skinny, the plugs in his arms standing out from his sinewy arms like what they are: artifacts. He musters me thoroughly.
"Zionist?" it's not really a question.
"Sir, yes, Sir!" man, I'm nervous.
"Well, welcome aboard. We got quite some work for you. You're dismissed." He turns back to his papers.
I give him a proper salute and leave to unpack my stuff.
The First Week
We leave soon after and I get a short introduction to what this ship's task is and what the operator's task is here. Not too thrilling: maintain the system and grant successful re-boots when they have to down the system due to sentinel-attacks and use of EMP.
Man! I can re-boot these babes even while in a coma! I can dictate you the bootstrap without seeing the panel, which isn't too easy, but once you really understood what you do, it's not a miracle at all.
The Mayflower will be out for a long time, do cartography work of unknown - or better forgotten - parts of the sewer-system. Most time they'll be out of reach of any transmissions.
But I'm lucky: I get a last mail from my friend before we're out on our own, on the second evening. Nop carries it in to the mess while we're all sitting at dinner.
We, that are:
Karma, the captain
Nop, the mechanic
Jazz the pilot with ash-blonde hair that stood from his head in spikes.
Blast, Krash and Lightning: three fighters.
And me.
An all-male team and all but me born on the fields. Harsh guys with rude manners, marked by the life out here. There we sat when Nop came in, holding a sheet in his hands.
"You got mail, Tank!" He calls out but won't hand me the thingy. Instead he starts to read it out loud. What an asshole! This is private mail. Well, I'll just sit and let him do it, if that's what he wants. No need to argue on the first week.
" 'Dear Mike! I hope you get this before you are gone for the next months. I'm very sorry I couldn't come to your farewell-party, but you know how my parents overreact sometimes. They are happy you're gone and they think I'll be back to 'normal' now. They will never understand that I'm just gay and nobody's to blame. Especially not you! I will positively miss you and wish that you're going to find some delicious guy out there to keep the cob-webs off your sweet butt. Love ya lots, Frank.' " I could see Nop's face twist with disgust as he went through the letter. Now he dropped it, "Oh man, a fag!"
"Why do you call me names?" I ask Nop. At Zion people are tolerant. You can be what you want to, as long as you don't cut in on other's rights. Do what you want, believe what you want, be what you want.
"Man, are you really a fucking shit-eater? Jeeze, I can't believe what they sent us!" Krash slaps his forehead.
The others stay quiet.
" I'm into guys, yeah. But I don't eat shit or whatever you think. I mean, I don't call you bloodsucker, only because you're into women. It's just as clean." I try to explain to them that there's nothing to be disgusted by or so.
"Watch your tongue, Tank! Don't ya ever compare me to your perverted acts!" Nop growls.
It's hard to believe. They act so homophobic like I've only heard of in the stories from people pulled off the Matrix. In fact, I only came to know that word - homophobic - when I met a nice Matrix-born guy at the 'RatKing'. That's one of my hangouts at Zion. A place where you go when you want to be sure not to bump into straights.
The rest of the dinner passes in silence. But I'm positive they will find that I'm just another guy and a good operator. They don't have to have sex with me - I'm here to fight for a common goal - nothing else. And they will come to like me and maybe forget their fears.
The First Month
I haven't yet taken place in the operator's seat. They have a lot of things to do for me: clean the recycler, the bathrooms, the showers. Do the dishes and the laundry, mopping up. In fact since I came here the ship has become much cleaner! It was a really filthy place and I doubt they all go and shower daily.
Somehow I get the impression that they do their best to keep me busy. It's hard to imagine somebody can soil a toilet like this and not do it on purpose.
This morning Blast came up with a blanket, handed it to me and told me to wear it as a skirt, since I was such a fine lady.
I was close to let him taste my fist. But that wouldn't help. I just ignored him and went to work. Now I've just finished the weekly recycler-checkup and soak in the spray of the shower. It's a good feeling to get rid of the dirt and sweat of a long working day and I'm humming a melody.
As I step out of the cabin, Nop, Krash and Blast are there.
"Hey Cinderella!" Nop grins.
I ignore him. That's not my name. I'm a bit afraid of what they are into right now. I get me a towel and start drying myself. It's strange to do so under their watchful eyes. Not that I'm shy. I have a good build, but it's a bit different if you know you are watched by _hostile_ people. At least that prevents me from embarrassing situations. With my actual state of mind I wouldn't get hard, no way!
Then I realize I can't find my clothes. They're not where I hung them on the hook. Blast has his hands behind his back. I stretch out my hand.
"Gimme my clothes, Blast."
"Dunno whatcha talkin' 'bout." Blast doesn't stir.
"Listen, it was funny, OK. But now give me my clothes back, it's getting cold." My hand is still stretched out, waiting for what is mine.
"Here, honey: your skirt!" Nop slaps a blanket powerfully at my chest, "Put it on, Cinderella!"
"Fuck off -" but they catch me completely off guard, a fist rams into my lower ribs and I double over. Suddenly they are all attacking me. It's my luck that I stagger backwards into a corner, so they cannot get at me at the same time.
But the first blows were hard and I am struggling to keep my stand. Finally they leave me alone, commanding me to put on that skirt.
Like hell I will!
Slowly I check my body: nothing broken, it seems. Only my ego, maybe...I cuddle up in my room. That small, dark, cold, lonely room. First had had been disappointed because it was a single room. Meant no chit-chat with anybody. Now I'm glad I don't have to share it with one of them!
Second Month
They all call me Cinderella now. We had a rendezvous with another ship that brought provision for us. I did most of the work while the others were mostly chatting with the other ship's crew. Not that I wouldn't have liked to hear the newest gossip, too!
That was three weeks ago, and since we haven't had any contact with other ships. The Mayflower doesn't go to Zion too often - would take too much time to go to and fro, they say.
I could spend two graveyard-shifts at the consoles, but since this ship isn't searching for potentials we hardly ever watch the Matrix. At least I could fiddle around with the computers, write some small programs. That's all delight I get here. They are unfriendly and even my attempt to complain at my captain hasn't helped.
Karma mumbled something about tough guys and rough jokes and that I shouldn't take it too serious.
Their 'jokes' are sometimes raw physical attacks, sometimes mean things like flushing the toilet while I clean the recycler or throwing dead roaches into my food.
War-wise nothing ever happens.
Third Month
"Damn! I just can't find the bug!" Jazz curses.
"Stop wailing and get to boot this cursed system!" Karma kicks Jazz butt who crouches on the floor.
We had been attacked by four sentinels and they had shut down the system to use the EMP. Now they are trying since three hours to re-boot the system. Without the computers we're deaf, blind and mute. We must re-boot them, pronto.
Finally I cannot longer stand in that corner and watch them. They can't even enter the proper bootstrap, although they have the manual!
"Let me do that, OK?" I still try to be nice and friendly. I have sworn to myself that I will not allow them to break me. My ancestors have gone through much harder, longer ordeals. I owe them to get through this with as much dignity as possible.
Jazz is about to throw a wrench at me but Karma stops him with a single glance. Asshole or not, this guy controls these people absolutely. His word is their gospel.
And I re-boot the babe! On the second attempt I have the kernel up and it starts to mount its devices. Long lists of stats-info scroll down the screens. I know by heart what to do. A few minor problems due to obsolete drivers can be solved within half an hour.
180 minutes after I had loaded the bootstrap the ship's system is up and running. Considering the badly maintained components this is surely a record.
I didn't assume to get a praise from them, and there comes none.
For two days they didn't bug me after that.
By night I am often awake, thinking of Zion, my friends there and the warm, loving people. Sometimes I cry until I fall asleep. I haven't known how lonely a man can be.
Fifth Month
I have lost weight. Not because they withdraw my food. But I am so terribly lonely, so deprived from any positive social and physical contact, I develop a nervous stomach and often can't keep my food. They beat me more often these days and sometimes I'm so weak and tired that I do wear that skirt because they will not bug me then. These are days I can hardly stand my face in the mirror, when I would give a finger for a friendly word, a hand for a loving embrace!
I spend more or less all my time off in my cabin, the door locked. This is the only place they have never gotten to so far. My castle, my refuge. I have given up hope we will ever make friends and the next time we meet another ship, I will try to stay there. My body is covered with bruises of all ages, they should believe my story.
Every now and then I manage to put an old sheet aside, so I can draw a picture. But they are terrible: I can't seem to sketch anything positive these days. All I manage is angry grimaces.
Slowly I get used to the constant pain. They rough me up at least once a week. They never appear alone - they are still afraid because I am still stronger than one of them. But they seem to pop up out of nowhere, no matter where I am or what I do. Sometimes I just don't want to leave my room. I have tried, but the broke the door open and kicked me out into the hall. Then they sealed the door and I had no place to sleep for three nights.
I cannot escape them.
I have stopped talking. There's nobody to talk to and nobody who'd listen anyway.
Instead I have trained my mind to fly: what they provide as work for me doesn't keep the brain too busy. So I let my thoughts fly home, dream of places to be and things to do, of loving people and friends. This is my escape, and they cannot take this away from me.
Seventh Month
I am sick. My body aches all over and I have at least two broken ribs. They had tried to make me eat their feces. But not all their kicks and curses could make me do so. Finally they closed my nose and waited for me to open my mouth. I didn't. I was stronger and finally faded.
When I woke up, I was covered with it. I was so disgusted that I puked where I laid. In the shower I took off the soiled clothes and scrubbed my skin like crazy.
I can't seem to get rid of the stench, the feel. Even now, hours later as I lie on my bunk I can still feel and smell it.
I will not wait until we meet another ship or get home. I will run away if there's any hope to get away with it. I don't know how much longer I will be able to stand this.
I want to be dead.
I wish I could cry, but there are no tears left. My body is sore and my soul is numb. I know that I act more like a robot than like a human being.
I had never thought it could be like this!
I was aware of the dangers of fighting in a cruel war. But there have always been friends around. I have never been alone. I can hear them sitting in the mess, joking. I hear their laughter and long to be with them, to end my isolation. Although I know they don't accept my presence. I stick to myself whenever I can, dreaming of better days.
There must be a better time to come!
Without that hope I'd be dead, I'm sure.
Eleventh Month
This morning I attacked Nop. He had come to the bathroom when I cleaned it and he directly pissed over my hands. With a growl that sounded like nothing a human throat could produce, I jumped from my crouching position and slammed my fist directly into his face, breaking his nose and smashing him against the wall.
I wiped my hands off on his sweater, washed them and left him wailing in the corner.
Now as I do the laundry, I make plans for my escape. I have attacked one of them and they surely will not accept that. And I'm not in the mood to wait for their revenge! I have to leave tonight. I could take along some of the dried goods and some water. Zion is very far away! But at school you make survival-training and I just have to remember what they taught us there.
Desertion. They will incarcerate me for that. Anything will be better than this ship. What a nightmare!
I like doing the laundry. It's by far the cleanest and warmest room on the ship and the smell of freshly washed clothes and curd-soap is strong here. And they seem to avoid this room for whatever reason.
The door opens and Karma enters, followed by Krash, Nop and Jazz.
"What did you think, Cinderella, to attack my first in command?" Karma snarls.
And without a warning, all four of them are over me, beating me until I go down, kicking me into the kidney, against the head, everywhere. All I can do is lie there, rolled up and covering my head with my arms.
Out of nowhere a knife appears. They pull me up and cut my pants open, pulling them down.
Gracious Lord! "No!" I whisper hoarsely.
They throw me over a stool, pulling my legs apart until it hurts. The blade is on my throat and for a second I take into consideration to push my throat against it to end this finally.
But I want to live!
God, I am only 20 years old, I want to live and love!
What did I do to deserve this?
They take turns. My screams fill the air. No pain like this!. At some point the pain is so bad that I fade.
As I come to, I don't move. I just lie there and listen to my body. Pain all over. Like fire shooting through my body, throbbing. If anybody would have told me how many variations of pain somebody could feel all at once, I would have laughed. But this tops it all.
Blood trickles from practically every opening of my body, I spit out a tooth. My lower lip is split. I struggle to my feet. I feel dizzy and have to steady myself. Half naked I'm crawling to my room. This is hell, no doubt. I only wish I knew why I was sent here.
But if this is hell, I can't even die to put and end to it...
The End
Glaring light blinds my tortured eyes. I raise a hand to protect them.
"Get up, pack your things. You'll be taken to Zion and answer for your attack against an officer!" It is Karma.
I don't move. I don't care. Let them dump me right here or shoot me - what difference would that make?
Karma kicks against the bunk,
"Get up, Cinderella! The other ship can't wait."
Other ship? I will get out of here? Oh my gosh! As fast as I can - which is not too much in my state - I pack my bag. Karma leads me to the main hatch. I can see another ship is docked. I walk over and Karma bid his farewell, telling them to be careful because I am dangerous.
TBC