Thank you Angel for your review, I appreciate it. I hope this second
chapter is as good as or better than the first. Anyway, on to the next
chapter!
Disclaimer: No, I don't own these characters, and I am not making a profit off of this. The only characters I created were Seamus' family, other than Brendan, and I stole the names Siobhan and Declan from one of the episodes.
Pronunciation: The Irish names, meanings, spellings, and pronunciations are all correct, as far as I know.
Bronagh (Bro-nah)
Kaleigh (Kay-lee)
Eoin (Owe-in)
Declan (Deck-lawn)
Siobhan (Shiv-an)
Life of a Kludge: Volume 1: Barely But a Man
Chapter 2: 10-13 years old
"Down came her father, he's standing at the door, saying 'Jeanie you are trying the tricks of a whore, you care nothing for a man, who cares so very much for thee, you must marry Lord Sultan and leave Annachie,"
'.Mom?...'
"With Annachie Gordon, I beg for my bread, before I marry Sultan his gold to my head! With gold to my head, and straight down to my knee, and I'll die if I don't get my love, Annachie!"
'.Mom?!...where are you?'
Seamus Harper awoke with a cry as his mother's voice faded, the song falling silent. Brushing away the tears his mother's memory brought to him, he looked around the small wooden shanty he was lying in. Reality was not as nice as his dream of his Mom. He had seen her; her beautiful red hair, bright green eyes. He'd heard her accented voice, felt her soft touch.and then he'd woken up.
Shivering, Seamus pulled the blanket around him tighter. This was the first night he'd slept peacefully, with sweet dreams rather than nightmares. Ever since his father's death, Seamus had been racked with nightmares of finding his father's cold, dead body lying on the floor. He known his father was ill; the mines had given him some sort of infection in his lungs. Zelazny's coughing had grown worse over the months following Bronagh's death. Upon waking up to find him dead, Seamus had panicked. It would make perfect sense to make Seamus take his father's place in the mines. So he had run before the Nietzscheans came to see why Zelazny Harper had stopped going to work.
He hadn't seen Brendan in a few weeks and it hadn't occurred to him to look for his older cousin. Instead, he had run blindly through the streets and alleys. Finally he'd found a small, dilapidated wooden house, so small that it must have been built for a dog a long, long time ago.
Still, after he'd added a few more sides to it, it was rather homey. Seamus had discovered he had a knack for building things. With a sigh of regret, he realized that he'd left the heater he had fixed at the house after he'd left. Well, it was too late to go back and get it.
Crawling outside, Seamus stood up and stretched. He tied the blanket around him and started walking. His first thoughts were food, but he also wanted to look for Brendan. The sky was a pale gray and the sun's weak light felt unnatural and held no warmth. On days like this, Brendan could usually be found under an old bridge near the harbor. Of course, it was possible Brendan had been taken, or had been killed. Shaking his head, Seamus ignored these thoughts. Brendan was invincible; he'd always been in charge of everything around him, and he'd never go and leave Seamus all alone in the world.
Growls from his stomach made Seamus stop walking and wonder if he should eat first or find Brendan at the bridge first. Another growl prompted Seamus to alter his course slightly and head for the marketplace. That was the nickname given to the small square outside of the ship docking bay. The few crazy non-Nietzscheans who landed on the planet would go into the city through the marketplace, and they were usually swarmed with people trying to sell something, steal, or beg from them. Seamus was usually one of the beggars; he had nothing to sell, but he'd stolen before. Being a young child, who looked even younger than his ten years because of his size, helped. He was also a good looking child, he thought with pride. Brendan would laugh and call him pretty to tease him, but Seamus had a small vein of pride in his bright blue eyes and wheat blonde hair. Brendan had repeatedly mentioned that he regretted ever showing Seamus a mirror after Seamus had exclaimed at his looks for the hundredth time.
Remembering his cousin's laugh, Seamus smiled as he quickened his pace. He liked to make Brendan laugh, it was the only time he ever felt like Brendan enjoyed spending time with him, and didn't merely help him because he was family. Sometimes Seamus had joked about his looks just to see Brendan laugh. He hadn't laughed in a long time though, and he didn't think he could say anything that would make Brendan laugh. Lately his nightmares had seemed to combine every bad memory he had; the magog attack, Siobhan and Declan's death, and the more recent death of his father.
As he got closer to the marketplace, Seamus thought he could smell enticing odors of food, but he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination. It wasn't; a large crowd blocked his view but he could tell there was something important happening at the center of the square.
"What's going on?" he asked a short wiry woman who was trying to peer over the shoulders of those in front of her.
"Someone important's stopped 'ere. I think they're making a treaty with the Nietzscheans. Rumors says it's against they're culture to eat indoors. Anyway, there's whole tables full of food surrounded by guards," at the end of her sentence, the woman was talking more to herself than to Seamus, but he didn't care. At the word 'food' he was jumping up and down trying to see. He slipped through the crowd, finding small gaps between people that most would overlook. Pretty soon he reached the front of the crowd, and then he stood there gaping. A few Nietzscheans were standing around the tables with large guns. The guests of honor had apparently not come out yet, and the food remained uneaten; the hot aromas nearly driving Seamus insane. He hadn't had good food in so long.he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a meal. Probably not since his mother's death, or maybe even since they'd left the country to move to the city.
He stood in front of the crowd staring at the food for a few minutes. Then he did something that could only be described as stupid. The guests had been announced and the guards had moved forward to form honor lines. The food was unguarded, for the moment. How could he not seize this opportunity? Dashing forward, Seamus grabbed something-he didn't even stop to look-off of the table and ran. Shouts were heard, but it took a moment for the guards to realize what had happened. Others followed his example, and soon chaos took over as the crowd surged forward to fight off the Nietzscheans and to steal the food. Seamus didn't see this as he continued running, but he heard the noise as he stuffed the food he'd stolen into his mouth. It tasted strange, but he didn't care. Feeling like he had run far enough, he stopped to keep eating the hot, orange food. It had the consistency of bread, but it tasted more like some sort of fruit.
For a few moments, he felt like he was in heaven. Then he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. Swinging around in panic, he saw two large Nietzschean guards coming towards him with incredibly angry looks on their faces. In defiance, Seamus stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth. He knew there was no way he could outrun them, still, he turned and ran anyway. He'd managed to run maybe a few yards before he felt something hard and heavy hit him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. It was a rock. His vision swam before him, and all he felt was one heavy kick to his stomach before the world went dark.
When he woke up, it was still dark. The lights of stars in the sky hurt his eyes, but he didn't close them. He'd never noticed how beautiful the stars were, and he wondered what it would be like to see one in space. That thought was quickly replaced the pain he felt everywhere. Someone was shaking him, focusing on the person he realized who it was.
"Brendan?" he croaked out, trying to sit up and wincing as he did so.
"Idiot! How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?" Brendan replied, not too harshly, but being less than gentle as he pulled Seamus to his feet. Seamus was too disoriented to understand what Brendan was talking about.
"What happened? How'd you find me?"
"You stole from the Nietzscheans you idiot! And it wasn't too hard, everyone was talking about some crazy blonde kid who'd ran off with food meant for an official banquet and then got chased by some guards. They were still beating you when I found you, and sorry kid, but I couldn't go up against a pair of Nietzscheans. At least they didn't kill you," While he spoke, Brendan helped Seamus to walk; holding him up until Seamus regained the use of his legs.
"'S their fault for putting all that food in front of us starving people. What were they playing at anyway? Their guests were impressed by their management of Earth?" Seamus replied bitterly, limping alongside Brendan. "And where are we going? Where have you been the past few weeks?"
"I'm taking you home. Wait till Uncle Zel hears about this," Brendan said, his thirteen year old voice squeaking slightly until he cleared it. Seamus didn't say anything immediately.
"Dad's dead Brendan," he finally said quietly. Brendan stopped walking and let go of him to stare in disbelief.
"Your dad's dead? When? Where've you been staying?" Seamus explained how his current situation had come to be. Brendan nodded his approval about running away from the house.
"That was smart."
"Don't sound so surprised," Seamus said, smiling weakly. Brendan laughed and kept walking, this time in a different direction.
"Come on then, guess you'll have to stay with me." Seamus suddenly felt uncomfortable and didn't follow him.
"If it's too much trouble, you don't have to take care of me, I can take care of myself," Seamus said, studying the ground. Brendan stopped and turned, looking Seamus up and down pointedly before answering.
"Fine job you're doing there. Don't be stupid Seamus, you're my only living family, we're not leaving each other," Seamus smiled then and followed Brendan as he continued to walk, Brendan rolling his eyes. "You seem to have recovered well, considering you look like a bloody pulp,"
"So where are we going now?" Seamus asked instead of answering his comment.
"Somewhere safe," was all Brendan would answer. Seamus at last gave up his questioning as they trudged slowly across the dead field. At last they reached a cliff, looking down Seamus saw a strange rolling mass of darkness.
"Brendan, what is that?" Seamus asked, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"The ocean," Brendan replied, then grabbed his arm and helped him slowly descend down the rocky surface. The remains of a beach lay before the ocean, but Brendan didn't let Seamus go near it, explaining that no one knew quite what was in the water and what had made homes in the sand, and that it was best no one did find out. Seamus still didn't know where Brendan was taking him; all he could see was the rocky side of the cliff, which Brendan was climbing around.
"Here we are, now stay quiet and let me talk," Brendan said in a whisper. Confused, and distracted as the pain of his wounds increased, Seamus did nothing.
Brendan picked up a large stone from the ground and then hit it twice against a sharp protruding rock. Seamus winced at the sound, and then, to his amazement, a door opened in the wall. Slowly, the very rocks Seamus had been staring at sunk into the darkness.
"Hurry up, someone might've heard that," a skinny, pale girl said. Her shrill voice scared Seamus, but Brendan was pulling him inside. The door led to a large open cavern, almost completely dark, except for a few small torches. More fire than that and everyone inside would have suffocated.
"Who's that?" A tall, brown haired boy asked Brendan. He was really nearly an adult, surely older than Brendan, and clearly he was in charge. With a nod of his head, Brendan wrapped an arm around Seamus' shoulders.
"He's my cousin, Amos," Brendan said with a grin.
"You sure we can trust him? Has he got any use?" The boy asked in a bored tone, obviously not caring how Brendan knew him.
"Bre-" Seamus started to protest, confused. His name certainly wasn't Amos! However, a tight squeeze near his neck from his cousin shut him up.
"The last one you brought, Danny, did nothing but eat our food, then went and got himself killed, nearly gave us away!" The brown haired boy continued, arms folded across his broad chest.
"He can build things, and fix them," Brendan explained. Seamus nodded in agreement when the boy questioned him. So it was settled, Seamus joined Brendan in the underground cave. The children inside were members of a gang, or would be when they were older and could join the higher ranks. For now they proved their worth, finding food and goods to give to their leaders to sell on the black markets, or to Nietzscheans. Seamus understood Brendan's secrecy then; if no one knew your real name, no one could sell you out. 'Amos' quickly became accepted once he proved his intelligence. Not only could he build the most useful things, heaters, parts for ships, weapons, he could deliver them quickly as well, and without notice.
It was on one such delivery, two years later, that he tried it. There was a man who worked at the docks, Seamus was to deliver some sort of device, he didn't know what it was, only that it was a small computer chip of some sort, but he didn't really care. He'd only asked for this job so he could get a closer look at the ships. Ships meant freedom, no matter what Brendan would say. Seamus intended to find out exactly how they worked. So after finishing the job, instead of leaving as quickly as he could, he lingered. This was the first time he'd been on the inside part of the gates since he was eight, and had tried to escape.
There they were; their pilots, mechanics, crewmembers, all looking grim and not so happy to be there. All different species, negotiating with Nietzscheans, although for what, Seamus didn't know. HE stood there, watching it all, from behind a low fence that barred one of the buildings from the actual docks. The man he had delivered the chip to had told him to leave that way, but instead of actually going, he remained, watching it all. For hours, he stared at the large machines, music from a window in the building drifting out to accompany the sounds. It sounded old; Nietzscheans were obsessed with old music, he'd heard, although he didn't think that made sense.
Dark fell, soon there were only a few ships left, and the buildings were closing. Nietzschean guards were also leaving. Some would have to go out where Seamus was hiding, and he was about to sneak off when he saw it; an open hatch. The pilot was some distance away, talking to a Nietzschean guard, neither could see the back of the ship, where the opening was. Heart beating faster, Seamus took a quick look around.
"If you ever get a chance out of here, take it, no matter what," He heard his mother echo in his head. A strange drumming filled his ears, and before he realized what he was doing, he ran. Ran to the ship, up the ramp, and then he was inside it! Free! Then his scream erupted through the night as a pain as hot as fire exploded in his neck. It blinded him, he could hear nothing, not even his own scream, but this time unconsciousness wasn't kind enough to fall over him. Soon he felt, through the haze of pain, hands pulling him off, down the ramp, and back to the ground. One last, sharp pain that spread through his neck and his body, and then it stopped. He shivered, covered in sweat and shaking.
"Stupid kludge," a Nietzschean sneered at him, but his ears still weren't working right and Seamus didn't hear it. They wanted to know how he had gotten there, how had he gotten through the security at the gates? He wouldn't tell them. They beat him, but it was nothing to the pain he'd felt in his neck, still fresh in his mind. They offered him a reward to tell who had sent him, and if he hadn't cared about Brendan, he would have taken it. Disgusted, they threw him in the prisons, where he stayed for weeks. News must have reached the gang at some point, for at some point he was taken from the cell and thrown onto the street. When he realized where he was, a few blocks from the marketplace, he knew he was supposed to wait for one of the members to take him somewhere safe, or to verify that he wasn't a traitor. No one came though; he waited all night, still recovering from his ordeal, but no one came. At last, as morning dawned, he felt himself being kicked with a foot.
"If you're alive, then move, you're in my spot," a gruff old man said. Seamus lifted his head, saw that no one had come for him, and left. He didn't know where to go; if the gang had wanted him to return, indeed, if they were even still alive, they would have come for him. It might be dangerous to Brendan for him to return to the cave, and he owed him too much to do that. He'd been nothing but trouble to Brendan, and now it was his turn to take care of himself. So he went to the only place he'd felt at home other than the cabin in the countryside; the dump. No one bothered him there, as long as he escaped notice from the Nietzscheans, and he was able to trade what he built for food. He even managed to get a new set of clothes from a woman whose child had died. She offered to take care of him, but he refused.
For months he stayed at the dump; as winter drew on, he buried into the trash along with countless others to stay warm. The heaters he built were stolen if he didn't trade them quickly, so he kept none for himself. Slowly, though he did not realize it, he became known. He never bothered to hide his name from those who bought his supplies, what was the point? It was only on one bitterly cold afternoon when he was just polishing some sort of welder and watching the snow that he learned about it. He was wondering why the rain was unsafe, as it was mostly acidic, but the snow remained undamaged. It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen, and he wasn't paying much attention to his work when he heard someone call up to him, for he was sitting near the top of a pile of parts,
"Are you the genius boy, Seamus Harper?" Startled, he looked down, prepared to run, then relaxed as he saw it was a young woman. She was clutching a few blankets around herself and staring up at him. He stared back at her, confused. Genius?
"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked.
"I was wondering if you have any food," Seamus glared down at her. Did it look like he had any food? He was skinnier than her, practically skeletal, and the cold he had wasn't improving his mood towards any charitable causes.
"Have you got anything to give me?" He called back down to her. She held something up, but he couldn't see it, so cautiously he slid down the pile of junk. In her hand was band of leather, with odd shaped metal sticking out of pockets in it.
"If you have some food, I'll gladly give you this." The woman was shaking from the cold so hard that he almost couldn't make out her words.
"What is it?" He leaned forward to examine it, and she pulled it away, afraid he would steal it and run.
"It's a tool belt, it belonged to my ancestors. My great-great-great- great grandfather was a carpenter," She explained. Seamus eyed her skeptically.
"What good are they now?" How could some ancient tools be useful to him?
"They still work, mostly," Seamus at last took pity on the woman. She was practically blue and he knew she wouldn't leave him alone until he traded with her.
"Hold on a sec," he muttered, then went to dig at another pile of rubbish. For a loaf of bread and a rotten apple, he gained an ancient artifact. To his surprise, it truly did provide some use. They served the same functions that the tools he'd seen now did; only these took much longer to use and couldn't do as much. He came to like it very much, and smiled to himself when he recalled her calling him a genius. That term had rarely been used around him, but he knew the general meaning of it. A famous genius no less; and he couldn't even read or write! It became a source of pride that would stay with him to the end of his days. Only a month later, however, he came to wish he'd never been gifted with such a smart brain. He was sleeping peacefully in his small nest in the dump when he was awoken with a boot grinding into his shoulder. A large boot. Opening his eyes, he saw a gun pointed at him, with a Nietzschean behind it, and two others behind him, all leering at the boy.
"Are you the kludge Seamus Zelazny Harper?" The one with the gun pointed at him asked. Not moving, Seamus nodded slowly. "Get up," The Nietzschean commanded. When Seamus didn't move fast enough, he reached over and jerked him to his feet. "How old are you?" Seamus had to think; he didn't really know, since he'd lost track of the days.
"Thirteen," he guessed, he knew he was somewhere around that age by now.
"It's about time you started earning a living, don't you think?" The guard asked, keeping an iron grip on Seamus' arm. He had to bight back a retort, he didn't know whether they were playing with him before they killed him, or if he was being taken to the mines.
"How?" he asked, swallowing hard before he managed to get the word out.
"Oh, I could think of a number of ways," One of the Nietzscheans behind the leader said softly, leaning forward to turn his chin up. "Look at him! Longer hair and he'd look just like a girl," They laughed, and Seamus glared at them, tugging at his arm.
"Quit that; don't be an idiot," the one holding his arm said, jerking him to be still.
"We've got orders to take you someplace where you can be of use," The last one spoke for the first time. At last, Seamus lifted his gaze from the ground, looking at the three large, strong Nietzscheans. They started walking, dragging him along.
"You've made quite a name for yourself, for a kludge, but now you're actually going to be worth something," Seamus didn't know which one said that, he was too busy trying to think of a way to escape them. "If you're really as smart as they say, you're bound to fit right in at the labs," A sense of dread came over him, and he struggled against their grasp until finally one slung him over their shoulder and continued walking, ignoring his fists as he tried to escape. He'd heard about the labs, people who went in never came out. Seamus was going to become a test subject.
End of Chapter 2
Vol. 1
I hoped you liked it, sorry it took so long to write. Please, please, please, write a review! Send it to Runicprincess@aol.com if you'd prefer. I'd really like to know what you think of it.
-Luna Sealeaf
Disclaimer: No, I don't own these characters, and I am not making a profit off of this. The only characters I created were Seamus' family, other than Brendan, and I stole the names Siobhan and Declan from one of the episodes.
Pronunciation: The Irish names, meanings, spellings, and pronunciations are all correct, as far as I know.
Bronagh (Bro-nah)
Kaleigh (Kay-lee)
Eoin (Owe-in)
Declan (Deck-lawn)
Siobhan (Shiv-an)
Life of a Kludge: Volume 1: Barely But a Man
Chapter 2: 10-13 years old
"Down came her father, he's standing at the door, saying 'Jeanie you are trying the tricks of a whore, you care nothing for a man, who cares so very much for thee, you must marry Lord Sultan and leave Annachie,"
'.Mom?...'
"With Annachie Gordon, I beg for my bread, before I marry Sultan his gold to my head! With gold to my head, and straight down to my knee, and I'll die if I don't get my love, Annachie!"
'.Mom?!...where are you?'
Seamus Harper awoke with a cry as his mother's voice faded, the song falling silent. Brushing away the tears his mother's memory brought to him, he looked around the small wooden shanty he was lying in. Reality was not as nice as his dream of his Mom. He had seen her; her beautiful red hair, bright green eyes. He'd heard her accented voice, felt her soft touch.and then he'd woken up.
Shivering, Seamus pulled the blanket around him tighter. This was the first night he'd slept peacefully, with sweet dreams rather than nightmares. Ever since his father's death, Seamus had been racked with nightmares of finding his father's cold, dead body lying on the floor. He known his father was ill; the mines had given him some sort of infection in his lungs. Zelazny's coughing had grown worse over the months following Bronagh's death. Upon waking up to find him dead, Seamus had panicked. It would make perfect sense to make Seamus take his father's place in the mines. So he had run before the Nietzscheans came to see why Zelazny Harper had stopped going to work.
He hadn't seen Brendan in a few weeks and it hadn't occurred to him to look for his older cousin. Instead, he had run blindly through the streets and alleys. Finally he'd found a small, dilapidated wooden house, so small that it must have been built for a dog a long, long time ago.
Still, after he'd added a few more sides to it, it was rather homey. Seamus had discovered he had a knack for building things. With a sigh of regret, he realized that he'd left the heater he had fixed at the house after he'd left. Well, it was too late to go back and get it.
Crawling outside, Seamus stood up and stretched. He tied the blanket around him and started walking. His first thoughts were food, but he also wanted to look for Brendan. The sky was a pale gray and the sun's weak light felt unnatural and held no warmth. On days like this, Brendan could usually be found under an old bridge near the harbor. Of course, it was possible Brendan had been taken, or had been killed. Shaking his head, Seamus ignored these thoughts. Brendan was invincible; he'd always been in charge of everything around him, and he'd never go and leave Seamus all alone in the world.
Growls from his stomach made Seamus stop walking and wonder if he should eat first or find Brendan at the bridge first. Another growl prompted Seamus to alter his course slightly and head for the marketplace. That was the nickname given to the small square outside of the ship docking bay. The few crazy non-Nietzscheans who landed on the planet would go into the city through the marketplace, and they were usually swarmed with people trying to sell something, steal, or beg from them. Seamus was usually one of the beggars; he had nothing to sell, but he'd stolen before. Being a young child, who looked even younger than his ten years because of his size, helped. He was also a good looking child, he thought with pride. Brendan would laugh and call him pretty to tease him, but Seamus had a small vein of pride in his bright blue eyes and wheat blonde hair. Brendan had repeatedly mentioned that he regretted ever showing Seamus a mirror after Seamus had exclaimed at his looks for the hundredth time.
Remembering his cousin's laugh, Seamus smiled as he quickened his pace. He liked to make Brendan laugh, it was the only time he ever felt like Brendan enjoyed spending time with him, and didn't merely help him because he was family. Sometimes Seamus had joked about his looks just to see Brendan laugh. He hadn't laughed in a long time though, and he didn't think he could say anything that would make Brendan laugh. Lately his nightmares had seemed to combine every bad memory he had; the magog attack, Siobhan and Declan's death, and the more recent death of his father.
As he got closer to the marketplace, Seamus thought he could smell enticing odors of food, but he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination. It wasn't; a large crowd blocked his view but he could tell there was something important happening at the center of the square.
"What's going on?" he asked a short wiry woman who was trying to peer over the shoulders of those in front of her.
"Someone important's stopped 'ere. I think they're making a treaty with the Nietzscheans. Rumors says it's against they're culture to eat indoors. Anyway, there's whole tables full of food surrounded by guards," at the end of her sentence, the woman was talking more to herself than to Seamus, but he didn't care. At the word 'food' he was jumping up and down trying to see. He slipped through the crowd, finding small gaps between people that most would overlook. Pretty soon he reached the front of the crowd, and then he stood there gaping. A few Nietzscheans were standing around the tables with large guns. The guests of honor had apparently not come out yet, and the food remained uneaten; the hot aromas nearly driving Seamus insane. He hadn't had good food in so long.he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a meal. Probably not since his mother's death, or maybe even since they'd left the country to move to the city.
He stood in front of the crowd staring at the food for a few minutes. Then he did something that could only be described as stupid. The guests had been announced and the guards had moved forward to form honor lines. The food was unguarded, for the moment. How could he not seize this opportunity? Dashing forward, Seamus grabbed something-he didn't even stop to look-off of the table and ran. Shouts were heard, but it took a moment for the guards to realize what had happened. Others followed his example, and soon chaos took over as the crowd surged forward to fight off the Nietzscheans and to steal the food. Seamus didn't see this as he continued running, but he heard the noise as he stuffed the food he'd stolen into his mouth. It tasted strange, but he didn't care. Feeling like he had run far enough, he stopped to keep eating the hot, orange food. It had the consistency of bread, but it tasted more like some sort of fruit.
For a few moments, he felt like he was in heaven. Then he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. Swinging around in panic, he saw two large Nietzschean guards coming towards him with incredibly angry looks on their faces. In defiance, Seamus stuffed the rest of the food into his mouth. He knew there was no way he could outrun them, still, he turned and ran anyway. He'd managed to run maybe a few yards before he felt something hard and heavy hit him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground. It was a rock. His vision swam before him, and all he felt was one heavy kick to his stomach before the world went dark.
When he woke up, it was still dark. The lights of stars in the sky hurt his eyes, but he didn't close them. He'd never noticed how beautiful the stars were, and he wondered what it would be like to see one in space. That thought was quickly replaced the pain he felt everywhere. Someone was shaking him, focusing on the person he realized who it was.
"Brendan?" he croaked out, trying to sit up and wincing as he did so.
"Idiot! How can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?" Brendan replied, not too harshly, but being less than gentle as he pulled Seamus to his feet. Seamus was too disoriented to understand what Brendan was talking about.
"What happened? How'd you find me?"
"You stole from the Nietzscheans you idiot! And it wasn't too hard, everyone was talking about some crazy blonde kid who'd ran off with food meant for an official banquet and then got chased by some guards. They were still beating you when I found you, and sorry kid, but I couldn't go up against a pair of Nietzscheans. At least they didn't kill you," While he spoke, Brendan helped Seamus to walk; holding him up until Seamus regained the use of his legs.
"'S their fault for putting all that food in front of us starving people. What were they playing at anyway? Their guests were impressed by their management of Earth?" Seamus replied bitterly, limping alongside Brendan. "And where are we going? Where have you been the past few weeks?"
"I'm taking you home. Wait till Uncle Zel hears about this," Brendan said, his thirteen year old voice squeaking slightly until he cleared it. Seamus didn't say anything immediately.
"Dad's dead Brendan," he finally said quietly. Brendan stopped walking and let go of him to stare in disbelief.
"Your dad's dead? When? Where've you been staying?" Seamus explained how his current situation had come to be. Brendan nodded his approval about running away from the house.
"That was smart."
"Don't sound so surprised," Seamus said, smiling weakly. Brendan laughed and kept walking, this time in a different direction.
"Come on then, guess you'll have to stay with me." Seamus suddenly felt uncomfortable and didn't follow him.
"If it's too much trouble, you don't have to take care of me, I can take care of myself," Seamus said, studying the ground. Brendan stopped and turned, looking Seamus up and down pointedly before answering.
"Fine job you're doing there. Don't be stupid Seamus, you're my only living family, we're not leaving each other," Seamus smiled then and followed Brendan as he continued to walk, Brendan rolling his eyes. "You seem to have recovered well, considering you look like a bloody pulp,"
"So where are we going now?" Seamus asked instead of answering his comment.
"Somewhere safe," was all Brendan would answer. Seamus at last gave up his questioning as they trudged slowly across the dead field. At last they reached a cliff, looking down Seamus saw a strange rolling mass of darkness.
"Brendan, what is that?" Seamus asked, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"The ocean," Brendan replied, then grabbed his arm and helped him slowly descend down the rocky surface. The remains of a beach lay before the ocean, but Brendan didn't let Seamus go near it, explaining that no one knew quite what was in the water and what had made homes in the sand, and that it was best no one did find out. Seamus still didn't know where Brendan was taking him; all he could see was the rocky side of the cliff, which Brendan was climbing around.
"Here we are, now stay quiet and let me talk," Brendan said in a whisper. Confused, and distracted as the pain of his wounds increased, Seamus did nothing.
Brendan picked up a large stone from the ground and then hit it twice against a sharp protruding rock. Seamus winced at the sound, and then, to his amazement, a door opened in the wall. Slowly, the very rocks Seamus had been staring at sunk into the darkness.
"Hurry up, someone might've heard that," a skinny, pale girl said. Her shrill voice scared Seamus, but Brendan was pulling him inside. The door led to a large open cavern, almost completely dark, except for a few small torches. More fire than that and everyone inside would have suffocated.
"Who's that?" A tall, brown haired boy asked Brendan. He was really nearly an adult, surely older than Brendan, and clearly he was in charge. With a nod of his head, Brendan wrapped an arm around Seamus' shoulders.
"He's my cousin, Amos," Brendan said with a grin.
"You sure we can trust him? Has he got any use?" The boy asked in a bored tone, obviously not caring how Brendan knew him.
"Bre-" Seamus started to protest, confused. His name certainly wasn't Amos! However, a tight squeeze near his neck from his cousin shut him up.
"The last one you brought, Danny, did nothing but eat our food, then went and got himself killed, nearly gave us away!" The brown haired boy continued, arms folded across his broad chest.
"He can build things, and fix them," Brendan explained. Seamus nodded in agreement when the boy questioned him. So it was settled, Seamus joined Brendan in the underground cave. The children inside were members of a gang, or would be when they were older and could join the higher ranks. For now they proved their worth, finding food and goods to give to their leaders to sell on the black markets, or to Nietzscheans. Seamus understood Brendan's secrecy then; if no one knew your real name, no one could sell you out. 'Amos' quickly became accepted once he proved his intelligence. Not only could he build the most useful things, heaters, parts for ships, weapons, he could deliver them quickly as well, and without notice.
It was on one such delivery, two years later, that he tried it. There was a man who worked at the docks, Seamus was to deliver some sort of device, he didn't know what it was, only that it was a small computer chip of some sort, but he didn't really care. He'd only asked for this job so he could get a closer look at the ships. Ships meant freedom, no matter what Brendan would say. Seamus intended to find out exactly how they worked. So after finishing the job, instead of leaving as quickly as he could, he lingered. This was the first time he'd been on the inside part of the gates since he was eight, and had tried to escape.
There they were; their pilots, mechanics, crewmembers, all looking grim and not so happy to be there. All different species, negotiating with Nietzscheans, although for what, Seamus didn't know. HE stood there, watching it all, from behind a low fence that barred one of the buildings from the actual docks. The man he had delivered the chip to had told him to leave that way, but instead of actually going, he remained, watching it all. For hours, he stared at the large machines, music from a window in the building drifting out to accompany the sounds. It sounded old; Nietzscheans were obsessed with old music, he'd heard, although he didn't think that made sense.
Dark fell, soon there were only a few ships left, and the buildings were closing. Nietzschean guards were also leaving. Some would have to go out where Seamus was hiding, and he was about to sneak off when he saw it; an open hatch. The pilot was some distance away, talking to a Nietzschean guard, neither could see the back of the ship, where the opening was. Heart beating faster, Seamus took a quick look around.
"If you ever get a chance out of here, take it, no matter what," He heard his mother echo in his head. A strange drumming filled his ears, and before he realized what he was doing, he ran. Ran to the ship, up the ramp, and then he was inside it! Free! Then his scream erupted through the night as a pain as hot as fire exploded in his neck. It blinded him, he could hear nothing, not even his own scream, but this time unconsciousness wasn't kind enough to fall over him. Soon he felt, through the haze of pain, hands pulling him off, down the ramp, and back to the ground. One last, sharp pain that spread through his neck and his body, and then it stopped. He shivered, covered in sweat and shaking.
"Stupid kludge," a Nietzschean sneered at him, but his ears still weren't working right and Seamus didn't hear it. They wanted to know how he had gotten there, how had he gotten through the security at the gates? He wouldn't tell them. They beat him, but it was nothing to the pain he'd felt in his neck, still fresh in his mind. They offered him a reward to tell who had sent him, and if he hadn't cared about Brendan, he would have taken it. Disgusted, they threw him in the prisons, where he stayed for weeks. News must have reached the gang at some point, for at some point he was taken from the cell and thrown onto the street. When he realized where he was, a few blocks from the marketplace, he knew he was supposed to wait for one of the members to take him somewhere safe, or to verify that he wasn't a traitor. No one came though; he waited all night, still recovering from his ordeal, but no one came. At last, as morning dawned, he felt himself being kicked with a foot.
"If you're alive, then move, you're in my spot," a gruff old man said. Seamus lifted his head, saw that no one had come for him, and left. He didn't know where to go; if the gang had wanted him to return, indeed, if they were even still alive, they would have come for him. It might be dangerous to Brendan for him to return to the cave, and he owed him too much to do that. He'd been nothing but trouble to Brendan, and now it was his turn to take care of himself. So he went to the only place he'd felt at home other than the cabin in the countryside; the dump. No one bothered him there, as long as he escaped notice from the Nietzscheans, and he was able to trade what he built for food. He even managed to get a new set of clothes from a woman whose child had died. She offered to take care of him, but he refused.
For months he stayed at the dump; as winter drew on, he buried into the trash along with countless others to stay warm. The heaters he built were stolen if he didn't trade them quickly, so he kept none for himself. Slowly, though he did not realize it, he became known. He never bothered to hide his name from those who bought his supplies, what was the point? It was only on one bitterly cold afternoon when he was just polishing some sort of welder and watching the snow that he learned about it. He was wondering why the rain was unsafe, as it was mostly acidic, but the snow remained undamaged. It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen, and he wasn't paying much attention to his work when he heard someone call up to him, for he was sitting near the top of a pile of parts,
"Are you the genius boy, Seamus Harper?" Startled, he looked down, prepared to run, then relaxed as he saw it was a young woman. She was clutching a few blankets around herself and staring up at him. He stared back at her, confused. Genius?
"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked.
"I was wondering if you have any food," Seamus glared down at her. Did it look like he had any food? He was skinnier than her, practically skeletal, and the cold he had wasn't improving his mood towards any charitable causes.
"Have you got anything to give me?" He called back down to her. She held something up, but he couldn't see it, so cautiously he slid down the pile of junk. In her hand was band of leather, with odd shaped metal sticking out of pockets in it.
"If you have some food, I'll gladly give you this." The woman was shaking from the cold so hard that he almost couldn't make out her words.
"What is it?" He leaned forward to examine it, and she pulled it away, afraid he would steal it and run.
"It's a tool belt, it belonged to my ancestors. My great-great-great- great grandfather was a carpenter," She explained. Seamus eyed her skeptically.
"What good are they now?" How could some ancient tools be useful to him?
"They still work, mostly," Seamus at last took pity on the woman. She was practically blue and he knew she wouldn't leave him alone until he traded with her.
"Hold on a sec," he muttered, then went to dig at another pile of rubbish. For a loaf of bread and a rotten apple, he gained an ancient artifact. To his surprise, it truly did provide some use. They served the same functions that the tools he'd seen now did; only these took much longer to use and couldn't do as much. He came to like it very much, and smiled to himself when he recalled her calling him a genius. That term had rarely been used around him, but he knew the general meaning of it. A famous genius no less; and he couldn't even read or write! It became a source of pride that would stay with him to the end of his days. Only a month later, however, he came to wish he'd never been gifted with such a smart brain. He was sleeping peacefully in his small nest in the dump when he was awoken with a boot grinding into his shoulder. A large boot. Opening his eyes, he saw a gun pointed at him, with a Nietzschean behind it, and two others behind him, all leering at the boy.
"Are you the kludge Seamus Zelazny Harper?" The one with the gun pointed at him asked. Not moving, Seamus nodded slowly. "Get up," The Nietzschean commanded. When Seamus didn't move fast enough, he reached over and jerked him to his feet. "How old are you?" Seamus had to think; he didn't really know, since he'd lost track of the days.
"Thirteen," he guessed, he knew he was somewhere around that age by now.
"It's about time you started earning a living, don't you think?" The guard asked, keeping an iron grip on Seamus' arm. He had to bight back a retort, he didn't know whether they were playing with him before they killed him, or if he was being taken to the mines.
"How?" he asked, swallowing hard before he managed to get the word out.
"Oh, I could think of a number of ways," One of the Nietzscheans behind the leader said softly, leaning forward to turn his chin up. "Look at him! Longer hair and he'd look just like a girl," They laughed, and Seamus glared at them, tugging at his arm.
"Quit that; don't be an idiot," the one holding his arm said, jerking him to be still.
"We've got orders to take you someplace where you can be of use," The last one spoke for the first time. At last, Seamus lifted his gaze from the ground, looking at the three large, strong Nietzscheans. They started walking, dragging him along.
"You've made quite a name for yourself, for a kludge, but now you're actually going to be worth something," Seamus didn't know which one said that, he was too busy trying to think of a way to escape them. "If you're really as smart as they say, you're bound to fit right in at the labs," A sense of dread came over him, and he struggled against their grasp until finally one slung him over their shoulder and continued walking, ignoring his fists as he tried to escape. He'd heard about the labs, people who went in never came out. Seamus was going to become a test subject.
End of Chapter 2
Vol. 1
I hoped you liked it, sorry it took so long to write. Please, please, please, write a review! Send it to Runicprincess@aol.com if you'd prefer. I'd really like to know what you think of it.
-Luna Sealeaf
