*.*.*
Original Author – Mr. Marvel
*.*.*
20th May 2005
Mike Anderson
"Teams," The Question Master bellowed into the auditorium. "You have two minutes to pick a member to go forward and answer the final question. The Topic will be revealed when your choice has been made. Choose wisely."
At the table across from his, sat the last years Scholastic Decathlon State Finalists. The trio of older students consisted of two males and a female, mirroring his own team. Unlike his team however, they appeared the stereotypical nerd group. Their captain was a lanky man with too much acne to be handsome, while his teammates hid themselves behind thick glasses and ill-fitting clothes. It wasn't until she first spoke, did Mike realise the team wasn't all male.
"So who's it going to be?" Mitch asked.
"Mike," Emily snap replied.
"Hey wait a second-, "Mike protested,
"I agree." Mitch doubled.
"Stop! Let's think about this," Mike demanded.
"What's there to think about?" Emily fixed him with a serious stare from under her bangs. "You're the Captain, you're the smartest, you should go."
"I might be the Captain, but there's a reason we're a team." He insisted, looking over to Mitch and his ever present Sci-Fi T-Shirt. "I am by no means the smartest. You're our general knowledge man by a country mile and you're the linguist here, Em. We're a team."
"I don't know," Mitch hedged, looking to Emily.
"We don't know what the question will be about, shouldn't you just go up?" Emily evaded.
"That'd be reason enough to put Mitch up on the stands," Mike pointed out. "He's got the best chance of knowing something about the question. While we'd be hoping to get our specialist topic."
"I wish we knew what the damn topic was," Mitch sighed, easing back in his chair.
Mike nodded his head, "Hang on, somethings itching at me."
As he drifted off into his thoughts, he heard Emily try and break him from his reverie, only for his friend to cut her off. Emily cast an irritated glance to Mitch, who beckoned her to wait. Mitch had known Mike his entire life, and knew that if his instincts were telling him something, it was something to pay attention to.
"Uuugh," Mike groaned, running a hand through the cropped, sandy blonde hair. "I can't put my finger on it, but somethings not sitting right with me."
"What're you talking about? You been bitten by a bug?" Emily frowned.
"What?" Mike asked, blinking flinty blue eyes at the weird comment.
"You said somethings bugging you," Emily's snarky tone only further baffled him.
"Mike's got some sorta sixth sense when it comes to this sorta thing." Mitch cut in before Emily lost her cool. "Something about how the questions 've been asked is putting him off."
"That's it!" Mike blurted.
"Em&M's, have you decided your candidate?" The announcer peered over his lectern to the excited group.
"Not yet, sir." Mike said quickly, checking the countdown.
"I must push you for your selection, you have thirty seconds." He cautioned, motioning to the large screen behind him.
"What is it?" Mitch hissed, almost bouncing on the edge of his seat. "You've figured it out?"
"Yes," Mike beamed a shit eating grin, "They've not done a language question yet."
"'Course they have!" Emily twitched, biting at her nail.
"They've asked about languages, geography and culture," Mike corrected, "But they've not asked a specific language question."
Emily glanced at the rapidly diminishing time, then over to the enemy team. "It looks like they've gone with their general knowledge guy, I don't know about this Mike."
"I do," He intoned soothingly, putting his hand atop hers. "You can do this Em. You're incredible with language and we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."
"But-. "
"Time's up." The suave suited announcer interrupted. "Candidates, please step forward."
The opposing team's choice stood and walked forward into the stage, marker in hand. Emily shot a final panicked look in Mike's direction, but he simply smiled his confidence in her.
Smiling weakly, the young woman took a breath in attempts of settle her nerves. On trembling legs, the compact brunette stood, using the table as leverage. The tentative steps she took onto the stage had Mitch's eye tremor, something Mike noticed.
"It's alright, she's got this." Mike reassured.
Mitch kept quiet. They'd all performed under pressure before, each round they'd won on their trip to the State Finals piling on the pressure and expectation. The increasingly difficult questions had boosted their intellect in different ways. Mitch had learnt to become more analytical while Emily grew in confidence.
Even with these boon's, a TV audience was still nerve wracking and he could sympathise with Emily's nerves.
Their year long journey had been something from a fairy-tale. An unknown team from a small school in Burlington, New Jersey, had made it this far. Beating out top contenders, runner up's and students aspiring to be where they sat now.
Schools different in their choices and methods in putting forward their best students. It took a little bit of prodding to get the shy but hot tempered Emily to join with her neighbour and his 'brother'. When Mike had first met Emily, he explained what the deal was regarding his relation to her neighbour.
The boys had been friends so long people mistook them for fraternal twins. While they shared some facial similarities and were of a similar height, that's where the common ground ended. Truthfully, Mike thought of Mitch as a brother. Their parents had been friends long before either was born, and from the earliest ages the two had been inseparable. When they'd shown up to kindergarten together, even the teachers initially mistook the pair for brothers.
Across the years their friendship had grown stronger, each finding similarities that vastly outweighed their differences. They jelled like an old married couple, bickering their way through Sci-Fi and TV, while debating the merits of Star Trek against Star Wars. Hours could pass with nothing and everything being said. It was this love of science, that had attracted the attention of their teachers. Combining their general knowledge with the linguistic skills of Emily, they hoped, would put them in good stead of success in the yearlong contest.
Mike felt a nudge on his shoulder. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he spotted the tanned hand of Mitch sneaking back. Giving him a thankful nod, Mike popped his neck when turning back towards the stage.
"Okay contestants. It's time for your final question!" Now contorted on the edge of his seat, Mitch and Mike glanced to the question board behind them. "The final question is a test of translation."
Mike's inner voice squealed in joy, but his face betrayed none of it. Mitch however, had slapped him so hard across the back, he couldn't help but break into a broad smile.
"Points will be awarded for spelling and grammar, the speed in which you translate this text will also add points to your overall score." The announcer gestured behind himself like a gameshow host proud.
As Mike watched, he was glad he'd argued against himself going up. Emblazoned upon the screen was a language he'd never seen before. It was so far removed from English; he could only identify the odd word.
"The fuck's all that gibberish?" Mitch whispered in his ear.
"I think it's Welsh or maybe Gaelic?" Mike asked back.
Mitch could only shrug.
"Candidates ready? Begin!" The announcer released Emily and her counterpart to the task.
Emily cautiously approached her board, mouthing the words to herself as she wrote them down. In her flowing cursive handwriting, the poem began to take shape.
'Sinn a 'coinneachadh neith chlaisneachd cabair,
Na ballachan mun cuairt oirnn uile, tha lom.
We meet, 'neath the sounding rafters.
The walls, all around us are bare.
Tha iad coltach ri peals de gàire,
Tha e coltach tha tthe marbh a tha ann.
They echo with peals of laughter,
It seems that the dead are there.
Mar sin seasamh le ur speuclairean cunbhalach,
'S e an t-saoghail lìon de bhreugan.
So stand by your glasses steady.
The world, is a web of lies.
Seo deoch-slàinte a tha marbh mar-thà,
Huzah chun an ath fhear a 'bàsachadh.
Here's a toast to the dead already,
Huzah, to the next man who dies.'
The poem was a sombre thing and seemed to eat away some of the nervous tension that had surrounded him. His smile died away as the words appeared. Glancing to his brown skinned partner, Mitch was equally perturbed by the sight of the soulful soliloquy.
"It appears that both candidates have finished. We will now take a short break while the judges compile the scores."
Mike didn't notice Emily sit beside him, nor did he take notice of the excited chatter between his teammates. He was away with the winds, staring at the screen.
*.*.*
20Th May 2005
Emily Ross
"Man that was such a rush!" Emily enthused, leaping into her chair like a salmon into water.
"You glad you went up rather than Mr. Basic Spanish?" Mitch teased, earning a giggle form Emily.
"Yeah, thanks Mike… Mike?" Emily waved a hand before his eyes, only getting a muttered reply for her efforts. Huffing, she folded her arms and turned her shoulder to the rude Captain.
"Don't mind him, Em." Mitch said, knowing how quick she was to fly off the rails when Mike was concerned. "He's off with the spirits… or wherever else he goes."
"Does he do that a lot?" Emily asked her neighbour, raising a tawny brown eyebrow.
"Not enough to be a 'regular thing'…," Mitch trailed off with a shrug.
Huffing again, Emily couldn't keep her dour mood for long, the thrill of translating the complex Gaelic code back to English had her mental state buzzing with satisfaction.
Glancing at Mitch she waited.
"What?" He asked, looking at his Sci-Fi T-shirt. "Did I spill something?"
"Nooo," Emily goaded.
Sighing and rolling his eyes, Mitch humoured her. "Okay mighty linguist," He began his mock interrogation. "What was all that… stuff?"
"I'm so glad you asked," Emily buzzed, launching into her explanation.
Ignoring the smirk Mitch was trying too hard to hide, she told him how the two forms of Gaelic had separated in the British Isles. After her brief history lesson, she began waving enthusiastically between the screen, her work and an increasingly lost Mitch.
"So you see how they left in some English words?" She tried again, pointing to the only words she knew Mitch would recognise.
"Yeah?" He drawled, feeling like that should be important, but not really knowing why.
"Well, Irish Gaelic is still in common use, so they don't have many cases where they use an English word instead of their own."
"And that's significant because?"
Sighing, Emily blew a bang from her eyes. "It's significant because that's how you can tell what type of Gaelic they wanted us to use."
"There's two types?"
"Well duh! Scottish and Irish."
"Oh sorry," He drawled sarcastically. "It's so obvious, how could I miss it?!"
"Oh shut up," Emily giggled, her light laughter belaying the swat she landed on his shoulder.
"In seriousness, well done Em. That was really amazing what you did up there. We'll need to celebrate our win." Mitch said, leaning back in his chair with a groan. "I think we deserve a drink, don't you?"
"We haven't won yet," She pointed out, only to have it dismissed out of hand.
"Please, with that rounding out our score, we've not had a major question wrong. We only lost that riddling question because the guy said it wrong."
Deciding not to bring up Mitch's sore spot once again, she decided to point out the other flaw in his victory celebrations.
"You know we can't drink in our dorms," She scolded, waving a hand around airily. Adopting a mocking tone, she continued, "We at the academy frown upon the use of alcohol in our students. Any student found with contraband within their dormitory will face serious reprisals."
Mitch snorted in his effort to hold his laugh, but failed, falling into a fit of high pitched laughter. Grinning, Emily took a sip from her water. Once Mitch had regained his sense of self enough to hear her words, she tried again.
"So I know you're not stupid enough to forget that, so what're you suggesting?"
"Well," Mitch smiled, "Mike's got his own place. We're not going to be needed back at school for the rest of the weekend. What'd'ya say? Sleepover at Mike's?"
The immediate mental image of a shirtless Mike popped into her mind, the ruffled hair of sleep combined with loose fitting lounge pants was a very appealing thought. Realising where her thoughts had lead her, she blushed furiously, only heightened when Mitch said nothing, just giving a knowing smile.
"Shut up!" She demanded, anger quickly replacing embarrassment.
"I didn't say anything," He pointed out.
"Nobody likes a smartass," She snapped, rising from her seat.
"Hey wait! Em, we can't-a fuck it," Was all she heard as she stomped quickly towards the washrooms.
*.*.*
20th May 2005
Mitch Barnacia
Growling in the back of his throat, Mitch decided to rouse Mike from his thoughts. Giving him a shake, he waited for their team captain to re-orient himself.
"Whe-huh? Oh," He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, what'd I miss?"
"Nothing important," Mitch evaded, instead hopping into Emily's vacated seat to get closer to his best friend. "You still doing that?"
"Yeah, I still don't know why."
"You've been doing that a lot lately, shouldn't you go see a doctor about that or something?" At Mike's answering look, Mitch shook his head in disapproval. "Stop being so damn stubborn, this could be something serious."
"You know how I feel about doctors," Mike said firmly.
"Yeah, yeah, they poked and prodded you as a kid and now you're terrified of them."
"Hey, it's no- "
"Yes it is and you know it!" Mitch cut him off, tired of his friend 'shying' away from the subject. "Your health is more important than a stupid phobia. Man up a bit and go get yourself checked out."
He'd tried to be respectful over his friend's choices to avoid doctors as much as possible. The return of the mental lapses had given Mitch enough of a concern to try again, with little success.
"Look man, just go in, say you're not interested in any more tests and just want a check-up. They'll do the usual routine with you, but in the end its your choice to say yes or no. If all you want is test A, don't accept anything else. Alright?"
He watched Mike like a hawk, eying his silvery blue eyes carefully. When he saw the slight give in the bull headed stubbornness his friend was legendary for, he eased up the pressure.
"Just promise me you'll think on it?"
"Ahright," The taller friend sighed out.
"Good," Mitch grinned. "So back to what you missed. While you were away with the fairies, Em and I suggested we celebrate at yours tonight. Either way, we've gotten this far and I for one need to unwind."
Seeing the glum expression lift, the two quickly made plans for that evening. Including as much cheap beer as they could get their hands on, a healthy order of takeout pizza, chips and soda's and the pirated Star Wars that Mitch had been able to track down. The evening was set, and it would be one to remember.
*.*.*
21st May 2005
Mike
Mike couldn't remember a thing.
Being honest with himself, he could remember everything, just not in any real order of events.
After they'd agreed upon their plans for that night, Emily had cooled off and returned to the table just in time for the camera's to begin rolling once more. The trio were showing varied levels of anxiety. Emily was chewing hard on her nail, nibbling it down to the nub. Mitch sat pensively in his seat, coiled like a spring ready to explode at the announcement. Mike, for his part, was the calm one. It was clear in the shine in his eyes he was excited, but he maintained his calm head. Almost sitting back in his chair, though the hunch of his shoulders as he too waited the announcer's verdict on their score betrayed him.
The throbbing headache between his temples pulled a groan from his gut. Heaving legs made of wood with arms strengthened by rubber, Mike wobbled too his feet.
His eyes fell upon the door to the hall, his greatest barrier to the bathroom. To his doubled gaze, the doorknob came very close very suddenly. Realising he was toppling over, his hand snapped forward to take the handle, only to miss and punch the doorframe instead.
"Sunova!" He hissed, wringing his smarting fingers.
Trying again, he made it from his room to the bathroom without further incident. Once relieved, refreshed and cleanly shaven, he let his mind try make sense of the night before.
Beer… there was definitely beer. He'd smelt that on himself when he'd woken up, but that wasn't the start. How did they get home?
He could remember the blaring music through his trucks speakers, the mixture of rock, pop and anything any of them could think to blast in celebration.
Yes, that was it, they'd won the state finals and were going to nationals in summer. It had been close, but the opposing team had dropped points in a number of key locations, and with Emily's flawless translation, it sealed their victory.
A grumbling stomach sounded the call to breakfast. Gladly leaving the bathroom behind, he made his way downstairs the kitchen, a steadying hand on the wall the entire way. When he reached the entrance to the living room, the smell of pizza wafted to his nostrils. The greasy odour had him contemplating returning to the bathroom for another sort of visit, but he held it off.
Seeing the empty boxes, the memory floated to the surface of the headache fog that clouded his mind. His two accomplices had fawned over their efforts the entire way home, only stopping long enough to breathe or compliment Mike on his leadership skills. Inwardly he'd blushed at the praise being levelled at his feet by Emily, though outwardly he returned them as much as he got.
Once dropped at their dorm, they'd agreed to meet at his once a shower and change was had. Mike accepted that they'd bring the pizza and movie if he got the beer. As the tallest of the three by far, he was the natural choice.
"Yeah, but I still don't look over 25. They'll ask me for ID," He pointed out.
"Oh calm your blonde head dude!" Mitch enthused, "It's all about the actions and how natural you are with them. You've got that down pat."
Mike raised a finger to protest, but his eyes glanced off to the middle distance, remembering how many times others spoke of his maturity and calm demeanour.
"Please, Mike." Emily batted her ludicrously long eyelashes at him.
'She's not even wearing make-up.' Rather than enjoy the taste of his own foot, he opted to say nothing. Nodded in acceptance, gaining a flurry of happy claps from the petite brunette, they climbed out the cab.
Mike stepped into the kitchen, spotting the remnants of a once proud assembly of beer crates.
"Must've worked then," He muttered to himself.
Snorted cough caused Mike to flinch. Returning his gaze to the left, blinking his way to a painful wakefulness lay Mitch, sprawled on the lazy-boy recliner.
"Whosafat?"
"Uuuh?" Mike looked at his friend and tried hard not to laugh. The slice of peperoni stuck to his cheek, the conclave of beer bottles he'd tried to arrange into modern art and the utter confusion was a sight. "The fuck happened?"
"Oh good, you're both awake," Emily's voice floated in from the door.
"Where've you been?" Mike asked, eyeing the Ihop carryout bags.
"Getting breakfast for you two. Looks like you'll be needing it. Come on, help me get these dished up."
"I'll… I'll be there in a minute," Mitch mumbled, casting his gaze around himself for an easy escape route.
Joining her in the kitchen, Emily pushed the employ boxes to the floor by the bin and started searching cupboards for plates.
"Top right, by the sink," Mike pointed out.
"Thanks," Emily said, the sky blue tank top and breezy lounge pants doing nothing to detract her natural beauty. "How you feeling?"
"Probably better than Mitch."
"Crap," The sound of bottles crashing to the floor and a heavy thud shortly followed. "I'm ok!"
Mike chuckled, then laughed when Emily shook her head, flicking her mandatory ponytail off her shoulder.
"That boy drank far too much," She said, giving him an eye. "And you look like you did too."
"'Least I woke up in my bed," Mike countered, taking the chicken tenders from one of the bags and laying them on the plates.
"That's only because I convinced you that your bed would be more comfortable than the table."
Mike shot her a sideways smile, "I got nothin'."
Emily tried to give a disapproving frown, but her pale pink lips curled into a smile at the corners. Mitch appeared then, his peperoni beauty mark missing.
"Food?" He grunted.
"Yeah, here." Mike passed him his plate, before snagging his own.
"Thanks," Mitch nodded to the two before shambling back to his throne of decadence.
Sloppy food sounds consumed the room as each devoured their meals, though Emily managed to maintain some of her femininity with the use of a fork. Mitch went in with his hands, sucking the sauce from his fingers.
It wasn't until he'd finished his plate and placed it on the table, did Mike notice something that didn't belong.
"What's this doing here?" He asked, holding up a grey metal band.
Mitch looked from his food to Mike, then from Mike to the band before finally from the band to Emily. "Em?"
"How much did you drink, Michael?" Emily asked concerned. "Don't you remember anything?"
"It's coming back to me slowly, but this I don't remember at all. Why is it here and not up there?" Waving his hand to the family coat of arms, a distinctly circular piece of the ancient heirloom missing.
"Mitch wanted to celebrate your Captaining us to victory and said you needed a crown. He tried to convince you to wear a pizza box as your crown- "
"Ha, I remember that," Mitch smiled toothily, his tanned complexion returning to a healthy colour after the meal.
"Only you shot him down and said you had something better," Gesturing to the metal ring, she shrugged. "You pulled it off that thing and wore it for the rest of the night till you near passed out."
"And you're asking me why I don't remember anything?" He accused, "If I nearly passed out, clearly I've had a lot of sauce."
"I didn't see you drink that much!" Emily protected herself, crossing her arms and frowning back through her thick rimmed glasses. "I figured you were a lightweight and couldn't handle the couple bottles I saw you take. Clearly you were already drinking when I arrived."
Mike pried open his memory box and searched for any evidence of drinking before Em had arrived with the pizza's. Even in his fuzzy state, that didn't seem to fit.
Shrugging, Mike flipped the hand in his fingers. The circlet making a faint whirring sound as it danced through the air. Looking closely at it, he noticed-
"Hey!" Mitch hollered from the other side of the room.
"What?!" Mike snapped back, his headache spiking at the shout.
"Don't go getting lost in la-la land again, we need you here for this."
"Here for what?" Mike sighed, putting the ring back on the table before grinding the heel of his palm into his forehead.
"Well, we need to figure out what we're doing for the rest of the day. I'm in the mood for some arcade rehabilitation, you in?"
Mike thought about it, the blinking lights, the blaring sound and the heated arena that arcade duellists called their coliseum. "I think I'll pass," He eventually said with a grimace.
"Suit yourself," Mitch shrugged, chomping down the last modicum of waffle. "What'll you do instead?"
"Day in bed no doubt," Emily teased.
Irked at that beyond what he could rationally process, Mike held the sharpness from his voice. "Actually I think I'll go for a jog, get the worst of this from my system."
"Ugh, jogging," Mitch groaned.
"Well one of us has to do some exercise," Mike motioned to Mitch's less than athletic build.
"Oi! I do exercise."
"Using your thumbs on a controller doesn't count," Emily joined in the ribbing.
"I don't see you offering to come for the jog," Mike rounded, a wolfish grin lighting up his eyes.
Realising she'd fallen for Mike's trap, she faltered under the abnormally bright shine in his eyes. "I-I-I-,"
"Oh get off it," Mitch smiled, seeing Emily blush under Mike's scrutiny. "Anyway, I'm burning daylight and I want to hit the road before the lunchtime rush jams everything to fuck."
"Mind if I tag a ride?" Emily jumped in, seeing the escape route for what it was.
"Yeah, probably a good idea if you drive." He said, tossing her the keys. "I'm not sure how safe I am to drive anyway."
"Cool," Emily stood, her arms snaking out for an easy catch. "Can I leave my car here then, I'll come back for it later?"
"Sure," Mike shrugged, getting the feeling the question, wasn't really a question.
With little else to be said, and being in no mood to do any semblance of cleaning, Mike bid his friends farewell. As he saw them off, he noticed the sway of Emily's hips, the loose fitting material swishing about her ankles as she slipped behind the wheel of Mitch's clunker.
'I wonder if she knows she does that,' Mike mused.
On the second try of getting the jalopy going, it fired to life with a wheeze, a small miracle in itself. Mitch had been fixing the POS back into running order since he first bought the mobile scrapheap. Unfortunately, Mitch's plans for modernisation required money, something any US college student lacked.
Mike waited for them to pull out the drive before going upstairs to change. Grabbing his phone and headphones while decked out in his running gear, he was good to go. Planning a route on his GPS, he opted for a longer session. Although he'd regret it in the evening, the calorie ridden night before left him no other choice.
After a good hours running, the minor levels of suburbia had faded to the expansive rolling hills of grassy meadows, nestled in the crook of the mountains embrace. Music died as the route truncated off the main into a lesser trail that'd take him farther up the mountain.
The small route he'd found seemed to be the results of a tributary stream or creek in days gone by. Bone dry now, the gully came to shin height but was hewn with loose stones combined with the odd boulder. Grumbling to himself at the slow going, he saw the trench bend ahead before levelling off.
'Perfect,' He gasped, Powering up the last of the slope.
Shoulders duking on his sweat drenched skin, he rounded the final obstacle.
It was possible the streams water had dried up because of its divergence underground after exposing the cave system. Either way, the shingled floor that lined the dark maw of the cave appeared before his sprinting frame. Hunched over as he was, Mike knew he had no chance of stopping.
Taking a frantic leap, he collided with the other side of the exposed ravine. Fingers, hands and elbows ground into the sharp stones as he tried to keep his grip but it was not to be. His heavy impact to the loose sediment shattered any cohesion it could afford and he slipped backwards into darkness.
"No, no, No, NO!" He screamed as he tumbled.
The last thing Mike remembered was rushing darkness and fading light before consciousness was lost.
*.*.*
There was pain, mind numbing, bone-breaking pain. He felt it in his legs and head the most. He could feel the padded bed beneath him and could smell the sterile stale air.
'Shit, in a hospital.' Mike felt the involuntary panic set in. Heart bouncing against his ribcage as it tried to lead the way to escape.
Glancing at his immediate surroundings, he saw his legs weren't casted nor was anything else on his form.
'That's a relief.' As he sat up, the headache making his vision blur once more. Groaning, he waited for the nausea to abate while the splintering feeling in his legs receded to a dull throb.
"Finally, he's awake!" Came a strong male voice.
Wincing at the immediate end to the quiet, Mike glanced around for the doctor. What appeared instead was a very poorly lit room beyond his own bed. The medical machines around him looking alien in the gloom.
"Wooooowww," The voice drawled out, giving Mike the impression of a man stretching. "Ten thousand C's in a cave will give you such a kink in the thrusters."
"Who?" He asked the seemingly empty room.
"Oh don't gimme that," The voice spoke from everywhere. "The hormones from your blood samples show you're a fan of a good thrusting too. Eyy eyy?"
"Excuse me?" Mike glared in the direction the voice seemed strongest.
"Testy now aren't we? Not a morning person? Sheesh, take a couple units nap and suddenly the energetic and sprightly young thing becomes crabbier than a hungry Thanodur. Well, you are organic. I suppose a clunk to the noggin would rattle you more than me."
"Ok, who the fuck?" Mike demanded, losing his patience with the rambling voice.
"Perhaps I should start at the beginning?" The voice asked, the lights brightening and flooding the room with light.
"Yeah, let's go with: who the fuck are you, where the fuck am I and what the hell is going on?" Mike's eyes smarted from the bright light, but he kept them open.
"Ok before I go any-HIPPO-further, you're going to need to calm-DOWN."
"Don't fucking tell me what to do!" Mike shouted, getting up from his cot. "Show yourself and answer my questions."
"I'm not here to hurt you. In fact, I need your help," The voice began. "You fell through the ceiling of my enclave and landed outside one of the airlocks. The fall must've been from a great height as you'd broken several bones and suffered a cranial blow rendering you unconscious."
"So where am-did you say airlock?" Mike eyes snapped to a squint, his hawkish instincts screaming at him that something was awry.
He'd taken several steps to move around the machine that blocked his line of sight to the voice, but at the mention of 'airlock' he froze in place. Now that the lights had brightened enough to see by, Mike realised why the machines looked alien.
Each and every one, was something Mitch would sketch from his sci-fi mind. The only machine Mike had any idea to what it was, was some form of acrylic chamber with sun-lamps drooped over it. The adult sized incubation chamber was vacant, with the top popped open.
"Yes, this ship has multiple-MANY-entry points. One of which you rather luckily landed-SMASHED-outside. Although you could've just knocked, head butting the outer hull wasn't necessary."
As the person spoke, a whistling sound entered the conversation, followed by loud cartoonish splat.
'What am I talking to?' Mike thought to himself, noting the lighting was beginning to recede.
"Now, because a you," The powerful voice pouted nasally. "I've got another dent to fix. I might add you half brained yourself doing it, rather impressive to make a dunt of that calibre in protective plating."
"Alright, well. Sorry for that," Mike had long decided to vacate wherever he was. After hearing the rambling incoherence this man seemed to lapse into, he figured the sooner he got out, the better. "If you could show me the way out-. "
"I'm afraid I can't do that," The voice, for the first time since Mike's awakening, took on a serious note. "I said I need your help, and I meant it. The ship is running on critically low power, and after stabilising your injuries, I am no longer able to operate the airlocks."
"So you've trapped me here?" Mike asked, finally locating the source of the voice.
What he saw made him question if he was hallucinating after the fall knocked him out. Besides the weird array of medical machines and bad sci-fi props, nestled into the wall, was a glowing red eye.
"PEEKA-BOO!" The eye blinked.
"What are you?" Mike asked in hushed tones, the light falling away to leave only the dull red glow highlighting his face and shoulders.
"Ohhhh! I suppose I did miss that part didn't I?" The eye blinked at odd angles. "Sorry, got a little side-potatoes there. Let me start from the beginning. Youuuuuu-,"
"Mike," He augmented,
"Thank you. You, Mike, are standing in one of the Empire's expeditionary ships. I am the Ships AI and, until you came screaming in, was in hibernation. When I saw the state of your injuries I deployed a maintenance droid to recover you and bring you here for treatment."
"Shit," Mike mumbled before going into silence, unsure how to process this information.
"Mike, woohoo? Miiike? Mike! Crap…, I broke it," The AI whined.
Mike kept his silence for a few minutes. He felt like this conversation could, and already was, getting away from him. He needed to slow it down and get the facts straight. So far he had: ship, AI and healed.
"What's going to happen to me now?" Mike asked.
"Well, that primarily depends on you now doesn't it." The AI replied, giving a slow blink of its large red eye. "As I said, I'm almost out of power and what I used to save your life has sealed the airlocks."
"Yeah, we've been over this already." Mike was beginning to wonder how unstable this AI really was.
"Let me finish!" The AI snapped, the eye frowning heavily at him. "So rude! Anyway, you're the first… thing I've come in contact with, for over ten thousand C's. Can you give me an update on the Empire? What's it like now?"
Hesitant to begin, Mike eventually went with, "I'll make you a deal. I answer your question, you answer mine."
"Very well," The AI took on an imperious voice.
"I don't know what Empire you're talking about. We've not travelled past our moon in occupied transport. I don't think I can answer any questions on that."
The AI was silent for a moment, its unblinking eye flickered and twitched a couple times as Mike waited for it to respond. When it did, it was the most forlorn and depressed voice Mike had ever heard.
"I see," It began in its quiet tone. "Thank you, Mike. If you follow the passage to your left, when you approach a stairwell go down. From there you should be able to leave through the cargo bay's hull breach."
"Hold on there, I've got questions for you." Mike smiled, "How'd you know English?"
"I know it from you."
"Care to explain more?"
"Ah, ah, ahhh! My question. Whose Mitch?"
"He's my best friend," Mike automatically responded. Realising he shouldn't be involving anyone else in this just yet, he kicked himself for letting that slip.
"I see," The AI said at length. "Well in any case, I learnt all my current information from you. When I healed your head trauma I did a cognitive scan and gleaned your language and some basic information from your mind."
"Yet you didn't know my name?" Mike folded his arms, looking down at the AI's eye.
"That was a test," It replied mysteriously.
"Why did you test me?"
"Why does anyone do anything?"
Sighing, he tried a different tactic with the machine. He'd excelled at philosophy and psychology, if this machine wanted to dance, then he'd oblige.
'At least it's not sounding as depressed anymore.' He thought, pondering what to ask next. "Why did the Empire send out expeditionary ships?"
"Isn't it my turn to ask a question?"
"You just did, now answer mine." He replied with a smug grin.
The machine grumbled a few curses, its red eye flickering before settling once more. "I'm unable to access archive informatonicus-s-s," It stuttered before rushing on. "ButTheEmpirewas running low on resources to cater to its population. Ships were sent, loafed with people, to restart a colonisation process."
Mike mulled that over, nodding slowly to himself. He knew from Earths expanding populations that food resources were going to be a problem for generations to come. He knew there were solutions around it, such as mass vegetarianism, but free will and capitalism wouldn't see that happen without a fight.
"My question, what sort of power shores does your spectacles utilise?" The AI's eye flickered in excitement.
"Um…," Mike took a moment to think that question over. "We use electricity?"
"Genius! They use electricity! I'd never have known." The AI bellowed, crowing to the imaginary audience who laughed mockingly.
Gritting his teeth, Mike waited for the unstable machine to finish before he tried again.
"We use geothermal, nuclear and oil along with solar and wind to spin turbines. That spinning enacts magnetic forces on copper wire coils. The constant reversing of polarity through the cables creates a polarity that makes electricity."
As Mike relayed what he knew of the intricacies of AC electronics to the AI, his until then instincts had been pushed aside as he battled with the machine. Now that he was focused on something else, and had a chance to centre his mind, they were resurfacing. Finishing his detailed explanation, that had somehow evolved onto electronics, Mike realised he was doing a lot of explaining and answering, but was getting little useful information in return. He felt like he was missing something, but the unique situation seemed to hinder his ability to think through what he needed to ask.
Until now, he was asking simple questions, something that could be answered easily and quickly by the AI. That meant it was something easily evaded too. The machine was playing him again.
"Tell me what happened to the crew and why you were abandoned."
"That wasn't a question," The AI sang back.
"Don't give a shit. You want my help to live, we play this my way." Mike felt himself squaring off mentally with the eye, as if a battle of wills was being excreted. "You're in no place to negotiate, I can walk right out if I so choose while you waste away. As much as I appreciate you saving my life, if you want my help then you'd best start giving me something to work with."
The solid red glob that resembled the AI's consciousness stared back at him. The blinking and fluttering that plagued its earlier interactions seemed to recede to the background. "The crew were ejected on mass in the initial cyber assault on my processors. After the Captain and Bridge Staff were able to abort the programme, the ship was damaged beyond repair without the lost personnel. After it was decided to abandon ship, the remaining crew members were distributed among the native population, eventually assimilating."
For half an hour the AI explained, haltingly, everything about the ship, the sabotage and the crew. Mike felt his stomach tighten as it told him, between bouts of rambling, how they were forced to abandon the ship and settle amongst the natives, largely forgetting their own history in an effort to start a new life upon Earth.
Once the AI finished its detailed explanation, Mike realised two things. The first, was that the AI was insane. As the conversation had gone on longer, the machine's eye had brightened and dimmed, flickering dangerously as if something behind the scenes was shorting out. By the time it had finished, the poor thing was struggling to make complex sentences without dissolving into incoherency. The other thing he felt, was satisfaction. He now knew the fate of the crew, what had been damaged and some simple steps he could take to fixing his discovery.
"Can I ask a question?"
Noticing the shift in demeanour, Mike's brow furrowed into a critical frown. The creases on his forehead appearing as he nodded the go ahead.
"What's 'Golden Blood'? Your sample was red of the dark one's smile attri-i-i, be-be-be-DUE to the Iron and Oxygen. Gold colouring wasn't found."
"It's the name for my blood type. It's exceptionally rare. Long story short, I can give blood to anyone, but nobody else's blood will link to mine, aside from another Golden Blood donor."
The empty medical wing didn't echo, and with nobody saying anything more, silence quickly took hold. The odd angles of the machines breaking up the flat expanses that were the walls, disrupting any sound waves as they walked across the cage.
Mike felt uneasy with the eerie quiet, it wasn't natural. Deciding to provoke the conversation to its final destination, Mike asked the question his instincts had been leading him to.
"How were you able to read my mind?"
"That depends on what the Japanese were to be and of the confused by the-CHEESE-exact mathematical uncertainty ceiling music walking song of the yellow room to make the balloon pop."
Mike was pretty sure if Emily or Mitch ever saw the dumbfounded look on his face, he'd never have lived it down.
'I'm going to need to get help with this,' Mike thought, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. 'Just what am I supposed to do with something like this? I can't just, dig it out. If I knew what this tub could do, then I'd be able to plan something.'
Realising that without getting the AI into a stable position, he'd be chasing a white rabbit down the hole of insanity. Despite knowing that anything the machine said would be suspect to either idiosyncrasies or be outright useless, he ventured again.
"Why did you save me?" The detached manner reflecting his inner self's reluctance to contemplate how close to death he was.
"Power levels critically low. External help requi-i-i-NEEDED. Captain Mike Anderson selected."
Frown returning at the duress being shown by the AI, Mike opted for one final question before he went for Mitch. While he knew enough about technology to get through his computer science classes, Mitch was the star pupil in that class.
Giving himself a firm nod, Mike made his choice. He'd learn what he could from the ship, fix it up to where the AI made sense, and get the answers he wanted. The first step in that long road, would be doing what the Ship bade him to do.
"How can I begin recharging you? It's not like I can drag an extension cable up here to feed you. Do you even use the same style of electricity as us?"
"Next," It replied.
"But surely you know if you're compat-,"
"Next!" It repeated, dragging the single word out.
"Are you going to keep doing tha-,"
"Next!" it gave with a sense of finality.
Slapping his hand against the face, Mike felt his anger quickly rising. Pulling his hand away from the fat eye, he felt his anger subside with a small bout of dizziness. With a sway and a blink, the answer came from an unlikely source. His stomach growled, loudly.
Glancing to his watch, he realised the day was growing long in the tooth and he'd need to get home to meet Emily. Running a hand through his blonde tresses, he decided the best way to get this ship running, was to get help.
"Alright, here's the deal… ship. I'm going to get some help; we'll need to rebuild a crew of some sort before we can think about getting you back to operational."
Silence remained his only companion, however he got a vague sense the machine was watching him. With nothing else to be said, Mike moved for the exit.
Dark chamber after dark chamber came to pass, the only hints available to him when he asked for help was the pulsing of the AI's red interface in the room he'd need to travel into next.
When he reached the cargo bay, he stopped to look around in wonder at the machinery he saw. Even in the pulsing red light, or perhaps because of it, the ships inside were menacing. He'd seen friendlier looking crocodiles. Some of the machines called to his soul, he felt himself take a step in that direction, hand reaching out-
'Help first, explore later.' He chastised, even as he struggled to turn away from the barbed purple monster that peeked out from its housing.
Eventually he made it back to the hole that nearly killed him. The evidence of blood splattered in the puddle of light made his skin crawl.
Glancing around, he found no easy way to make it to the hole he'd entered by, so on he wandered. Mike spotted several tunnels of various shapes and sizes, but opted for the one he could hear running water echoing from. It wasn't that Mike was some survival expert, far from it in fact, but he was a logical thinker.
To his reasoning, water would continue down as far as it could naturally go before being forced back onto the surface to reach the ocean. There was no plausible way a waterway could travel the entire state underground to do that. Added to this was his local geography. He'd run enough through the trails to know that small streams cut around the landscape.
After many falls, curses, scraped knee's and palm's along with some silt flavoured water, Mike spotted the reflecting light of freedom. The first breath of clean air was tempered by the irritating factoid that the hour of stumbling had taken him far less distance homeward than he wanted.
Growling, he removed the stones from his shoes and began hobbling home. Jogging wasn't the word Mike would use, somewhere between power walking and limping seemed a better fit.
As the foothills levelled off into the suburbs, Mike put himself onto auto-pilot while his mind raced with all the possibilities. Now that he was outside the moment, his mind had cleared enough to focus on the questions he needed answers to.
Ship, spaceship, artificial intelligence, critical power, sabotage, advanced technology, rapid healing, the list went on and on. Where should he start? On one hand was the logical step to get the ships AI back into working order, the instability of the thing troubled Mike. For all he knew, the corrupt thing might trigger some sort of self-destruct by accident thinking it was turning on the toaster.
That led to another problem. How does one fix an advanced technology with what a nerdy college student could gain access to? It wasn't like his bank account had the relevant billions that Microsoft had in their R&D for AI. Shaking his head, Mike realised he would need to talk to Mitch about that particular problem. In the meantime, he needed to decide how he could get power up the mountain. Electricity was his best hope, the machine running the ship hadn't said anything about nuclear power, which was a relief. An unstable nuclear reactor sitting less than twenty miles from the city centre was bad news. He was surprised with himself that even if the reactor was unstable, he wouldn't be running to the police straight away. Before he could analyse that thought any further, his eyes registered something right before him.
Jerking back so abruptly he felt the twinge of something in his back spasm, Mike looked up to see his front door, partially open, with a very miffed Emily standing at his side.
"Jesus Mike," She berated, "What the fuck? I've been waiting here for nearly an hour!"
Being the master of linguistics that he wasn't, Mike spoke the first thing that came to him. "Ungh?"
*.*.*
21st May 2005
Emily
The orc's grunt of the man before her tickled Emily in a way she tried hard to suppress. The glare she'd focused on him the moment he turned the corner onto his street faded away as she took him in. What she saw made her eyes grow wide in surprise.
His jogging clothes were caked in dust, mud and stained with something she had a queasy feeling was blood. His sandy blonde hair was in shambles with loose gravel caught in the bird's nest that was his hair. Under that there was the scratches and chaffs of his legs and arms along with the sodden discolouration of his shoes.
"Why're you looking at me like that?"
"Mike, what happened?" She gently placed her delicate fingers against a long scrape from his wrist along his fore arm.
"I had a bit of a fall," He replied rather quickly, raising her suspicions.
"You've had more than a fall," Emily murmured, her finger trailing up to the noticeable bicep that most certainly wasn't there earlier.
Emily had seen Mike this morning. Emily had seen the sleepy male stretching and flexing as he attempted to wake himself up. Emily had been watching him carefully from the corner of her eye that entire morning. Emily was damn well sure that something beyond a jog and a fall had happened to him.
As if reading her thoughts, Mike moved past her into his house.
"Hey!" She called out heatedly, "Don't walk away from me."
Stomping her way up the stairs after him, she found him easily enough. The door to his bedroom was open where he was standing looking at something to his left.
'Where did his shirt – Where did that six pack come from?!' Emily cut herself off as Mike turned on the spot. Entering the room behind him, she saw that he was looking himself over in the mirror, a similar combination of confusion and fascination on his face.
"What did that thing do to me?"
"What on Earth are you talking about?" Emily asked quietly, her gaze turning concerned at his odd behaviour and the dried blood she could see on his skin. "Who did this to you?"
"Emily…," Mike drew her attention to his reflection in the mirror, their eyes meeting. "It wasn't something of this earth, and it isn't a who, it's a what."
"You're freaking me out here, Mike." She answered his cryptic message honestly. "What are you talking about?"
His laughter caught her off guard, making her temper flare. "Em," He said, turning his smiling face down to meet her. "You wouldn't believe what I've found."
*.*.*
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