Wow, I got reviewed! I shall write the next chapter in celebration.
To Silvace Atronach, Steel Jaguar, and anyone else who cares, or has reviewed by the time I've put this up:
Much appreciated. Anyway, I do know of the multiple endings (I've seen all of them, having beaten FOM about ten times.) I preferred the one where Myona was the final runner of Iblis, personally, but I thought it was more proper for it do be Ares. Irrelevant, nonetheless.
Aww darn it! I just knew they'd taken the name Nephthys. No, this Nephthys is a completely new model. I made it up. I thought that Viola A.I.'s frame from The 2nd Runner (what I saw of it) was a rebuild of Neith. Oh well. I'm glad to have some criticism I can use. I'm going to rename that #$*! frame, indeed. Check back, continuity buffs. They'll never guess this one. (MWHAHAHAHAHA!) I've also made a date change to help the story along. I'm changing Proteus' name to "my" own, but the model name stands. I'll explain it in the chapter.
And Samuel is my real name. Don't abuse it or you'll die, and I can make good on that, thanks to my little friend mortality! Aside from me, my favorite characters, in order, are Warren, Semyl, and then Razma, FYI.
Enough bugging you all with my introduction to this chapter. (all two or so of you) I still do not own Zone of the Enders, but I thank you all for your donations...
Alright! I have just one compound question: Who's Marty Stu, and why should I avoid being like him/her/it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: Orbital Frames and Memories
I had just flipped open the access panel's cover, punched in the simple four-digit code, and stepped into the hangar when the frame came online! The Proteus appears to be just another OF, though OFs aren't something you normally take lightly. However, you could always be me, Samuel Gales. I was there when BIS liberated four of their own from the Acemos plot to destroy my favorite group of freedom fighters. And they would've done it as messily as possible. I'm glad they're over. I've followed BIS through a secret intelligence network since. I have something else to thank them for. Either way, Proteus is simple enough in design, at least in comparison with machines like "Harut Marut." The whole thing is blue, and all shades of it. I'm one for black, but that's unimportant right now. The wings are basically large metal triangles that arch from the shoulder supports that stick up above the head. The legs are stubby for an OF, but they work to help the whole thing hover. The feet are the standard pointy structures like you'd see on "Vjaya" or something along those lines. On the other hand, the head is something else entirely. It's got eight eyes, all of them functional. There's one on top, like the "Grafficane" series, two long, thin ones directly above each other on the right side, and five, one on each of the overlapping sections making up the left half of the face. The head itself resembles a blunted, geometric bullet, crowned with a short, pyramidal horn on either side, each accompanied by a shorter, conic plate lower down. The cockpit is right below the neck, and reasonably well-protected. Lastly, the arms are fairly well-articulated, each with a built-in blade on the forearm. The design is similar to Warren Lumenlux's "Durandal II" in that respect. Those things can gather quite a charge, I'd wager. The hands have these strange pulse- laser-type devices on the palms, and much more focused beams on their backs. At least that's what I think they are. It doesn't matter what the Proteus looks like, so long as it's on!
"Yea-" I began to shout, but then stopped. Nobody knows I'm down here. I don't actually live in Neo Memphis, but my parents sent me to live with some friends for the summer, and, moreover, to get a job. Their dome is right outside of the city. They just want me to go out and see the world...err...solar system. I was born on Mars, just like everyone else I know. Life hasn't been easy for me, but the UNSF has been getting in some trouble with BAHRAM and the rebels, as well as BIS. My parents mean well, but they let me get into the worst trouble! And here I was, about to board my own Orbital Frame. I'll just be joining BIS for a season. I don't intend to get killed. People say teenagers are reckless, and their darned right, but I've come to know this frame from the inside out. And BAHRAM has taken something away from me that I'm not going to get back.
"Time to get this baby out of the hangar."
I made my way towards the Proteus. I've been in the cockpit many times before. The elevator is still working, and it'll take me to work platforms all over the frame. BAHRAM and Acemos weren't too neat in their evacuation of this place. Thanks to those slops and their paperwork, I know how to run the frame, why it was built, and what's so special about it. Proteus in itself is pretty high-quality. And what's more, it grows and adapts to its runner's character and personality, which is quite the concept. How exactly it does this is still a mystery to me, but I don't honestly care. I figured someone would fire the access codes. There's a satellite orbiting Mars that fixates itself over this county once every twenty minutes. I'm not completely in the dark about this thing. Someone left me a note that they'd be activating it tonight, and I'm willing to go with whatever I get. BAHRAM had plans to use this frame as a companion to a "female" frame they were building. The original runner of Proteus was a man named Lance Jimmer, though I've received some inside info saying that his real name was Ani Aegis. Apparently, he went to heck with the rest of Dezeele Zephyrs' laboratory. That's two more freaks that I'm glad this planet is rid of. But I'm always concerned about someone named Amante Furlair. I've found another memo to an Acemos officer that indicates quite plainly that she was the one who did him in.
"Amante," I whispered as the elevator brought me to the cockpit, which opened for me automatically. It seems to have gotten used to my presence. There's tiny release mechanism, either way. "Amante..."
I know that her name is the Spanish word for 'lover.' Sounds like someone who's too good, or perhaps too hot, to be trustworthy. I've got my priorities, and flirting with one of BAHRAM's hookers isn't one of them. Kinda reminds me of the myth behind my frame. Proteus was a figure from ancient Greek mythology. He was a minor deity who rebelled against the King of Olympus, who was quite the womanizer. Proteus could always change his form, and gave Zeus a really hard time. Sounds like my intention, but the son of Cronos eventually defeated his nemesis. That's not something I want to happen to me. I've got a new designation picked out that still expresses the "go down fighting" mentality, but will suit me a little bit better. I broke my mental ramblings to cue the computer to close the cockpit and move the docking mechanisms away. The reactor was started, and the pilot's seat was quickly protected from the outside world.
"And here I am in my black coat and black T-shirt and black denim pants, none of which would be too much help on the Martian range, and are more likely to creep people out than win their trust. I've got my boots on at least. Here's hoping this thing is air-tight," I said as I input a command into the communication device. I've been living on the edge of the city, and this hangar goes straight to the planet's surface. BIS headquarters is someone in the desert near the Hellespontos Mountains. Simple enough. It's a good thing I shut the door behind me, as the airlock was opening. The dense, stale air was swept into Mars' thin atmosphere. I'd have to close the hangar behind me. I don't want anyone having a bad day. "Computer, prepare for take-off."
The computer had been humming away in the fairly spacious cockpit, the surprisingly wide area around me beeping and flashing in places. There was a clear spot on the front console. It looked like one could put a photograph there. The thought hit me like a brick.
"Idiot! How could you forget why you're even doing this?!" I scolded myself as I took a picture out of my jacket and stuck it in between two pieces of the interior lining. The photo reminded me of what BAHRAM had torn from my life. There was that pretty fifteen-year-old face with its brilliant blue eyes, sunny smile, and long, ribboned, green hair. That face would stay the same way forever, the person behind it a victim of a terrorist attack on June 10, 2173. The force behind it was most certainly BAHRAM. And I'll never forgive them for that. "You know how much I miss you, Amy. You always were the one with more faith. Being in a better place means everyone who knew you can rest assured. 'Live without having to regret,' you always said. Christ help me not to come and see you for the sake of regretting our separation. I think I've gone goofy."
I always have to choke back the tearful memories. Amy and I had been close since our early childhood. We actually started going out that year. She could always see past the facades I put up. Then there was Ned Noachim. He died twice for the suffering he caused in his life. I know that Ned's frame "Ravana" started that fire. And it was BAHRAM that gave a new lease on his diseased life! I wasn't there when Amy was brought into the hospital. I'd missed the whole incident, and there was no way her burns would've allowed her to continue in this world. But I got there before she passed away.
"You can still love," she were her final words encouragement as they led me away so that she could "get some rest." The doctors wanted to try a new kind of surgery on Amy to restore the severe tissue damage, but she didn't pull through. I felt I couldn't love, though. I didn't attend the funeral, and I heard it wasn't much of a ceremony. They say that the coffin wasn't even open. I guess I wasn't the only one who could stand to see those beautiful eyes closed, never to open again. My only memories of Amy are of her life. I guess that's why I took it so hard. She was there one day, and then gone the next. I became reclusive for the next year, and rarely spoke. I finally started to come out from behind the walls I put around my heart since her death. I returned to my life after a few more months, but I wasn't quite the same. People said that I was always somewhere else. I buried myself in music that was about one-hundred-and- seventy years old. In fact, I've downloaded many of my favorite audio files into the Proteus' hard drive, or at least what parts of it I could reach without the access codes. Our song is on it now, ancient as it is.
"Attention runner: please state your name and prepare for DNA registry," the computer blipped. I snapped out of my trance. DNA registry?
"Samuel Gales," I answered with some reservations, but remembered that I was on a mission.
"Please submit hair sample."
A small container in the console opened, and I deposited a loose hair inside. The compartment closed, and the computer began to hum again. It continued for a few moments, and the bland, genderless voice began again.
"DNA sequenced. Activate Proteus Strategic A.I. Program 'MITCH'."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, if you're wondering, Sam/I will have absolutely no romantic involvement with the AI. Why do I even think to mention that? It's something you should take for granted. I guess there were the questions of Leo and ADA, as well as Cage and Pharsti. And "MITCH" doesn't really stand for anything right now. Anyway, whatcha think? Lots of fluff, in my opinion, but I needed to develop my character. This one was significantly longer than the previous, so I hope I haven't lost anyone.
I don't really want to explain the AI and what-not until the chapter-after- next.
Reviews are much appreciated. I've been tearing at this thing for hours, so I'd like to know that I did a good job, or if I missed anything in my sleep-deprived state. I should be a little faster about getting the next chapter up.
To Silvace Atronach, Steel Jaguar, and anyone else who cares, or has reviewed by the time I've put this up:
Much appreciated. Anyway, I do know of the multiple endings (I've seen all of them, having beaten FOM about ten times.) I preferred the one where Myona was the final runner of Iblis, personally, but I thought it was more proper for it do be Ares. Irrelevant, nonetheless.
Aww darn it! I just knew they'd taken the name Nephthys. No, this Nephthys is a completely new model. I made it up. I thought that Viola A.I.'s frame from The 2nd Runner (what I saw of it) was a rebuild of Neith. Oh well. I'm glad to have some criticism I can use. I'm going to rename that #$*! frame, indeed. Check back, continuity buffs. They'll never guess this one. (MWHAHAHAHAHA!) I've also made a date change to help the story along. I'm changing Proteus' name to "my" own, but the model name stands. I'll explain it in the chapter.
And Samuel is my real name. Don't abuse it or you'll die, and I can make good on that, thanks to my little friend mortality! Aside from me, my favorite characters, in order, are Warren, Semyl, and then Razma, FYI.
Enough bugging you all with my introduction to this chapter. (all two or so of you) I still do not own Zone of the Enders, but I thank you all for your donations...
Alright! I have just one compound question: Who's Marty Stu, and why should I avoid being like him/her/it?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2: Orbital Frames and Memories
I had just flipped open the access panel's cover, punched in the simple four-digit code, and stepped into the hangar when the frame came online! The Proteus appears to be just another OF, though OFs aren't something you normally take lightly. However, you could always be me, Samuel Gales. I was there when BIS liberated four of their own from the Acemos plot to destroy my favorite group of freedom fighters. And they would've done it as messily as possible. I'm glad they're over. I've followed BIS through a secret intelligence network since. I have something else to thank them for. Either way, Proteus is simple enough in design, at least in comparison with machines like "Harut Marut." The whole thing is blue, and all shades of it. I'm one for black, but that's unimportant right now. The wings are basically large metal triangles that arch from the shoulder supports that stick up above the head. The legs are stubby for an OF, but they work to help the whole thing hover. The feet are the standard pointy structures like you'd see on "Vjaya" or something along those lines. On the other hand, the head is something else entirely. It's got eight eyes, all of them functional. There's one on top, like the "Grafficane" series, two long, thin ones directly above each other on the right side, and five, one on each of the overlapping sections making up the left half of the face. The head itself resembles a blunted, geometric bullet, crowned with a short, pyramidal horn on either side, each accompanied by a shorter, conic plate lower down. The cockpit is right below the neck, and reasonably well-protected. Lastly, the arms are fairly well-articulated, each with a built-in blade on the forearm. The design is similar to Warren Lumenlux's "Durandal II" in that respect. Those things can gather quite a charge, I'd wager. The hands have these strange pulse- laser-type devices on the palms, and much more focused beams on their backs. At least that's what I think they are. It doesn't matter what the Proteus looks like, so long as it's on!
"Yea-" I began to shout, but then stopped. Nobody knows I'm down here. I don't actually live in Neo Memphis, but my parents sent me to live with some friends for the summer, and, moreover, to get a job. Their dome is right outside of the city. They just want me to go out and see the world...err...solar system. I was born on Mars, just like everyone else I know. Life hasn't been easy for me, but the UNSF has been getting in some trouble with BAHRAM and the rebels, as well as BIS. My parents mean well, but they let me get into the worst trouble! And here I was, about to board my own Orbital Frame. I'll just be joining BIS for a season. I don't intend to get killed. People say teenagers are reckless, and their darned right, but I've come to know this frame from the inside out. And BAHRAM has taken something away from me that I'm not going to get back.
"Time to get this baby out of the hangar."
I made my way towards the Proteus. I've been in the cockpit many times before. The elevator is still working, and it'll take me to work platforms all over the frame. BAHRAM and Acemos weren't too neat in their evacuation of this place. Thanks to those slops and their paperwork, I know how to run the frame, why it was built, and what's so special about it. Proteus in itself is pretty high-quality. And what's more, it grows and adapts to its runner's character and personality, which is quite the concept. How exactly it does this is still a mystery to me, but I don't honestly care. I figured someone would fire the access codes. There's a satellite orbiting Mars that fixates itself over this county once every twenty minutes. I'm not completely in the dark about this thing. Someone left me a note that they'd be activating it tonight, and I'm willing to go with whatever I get. BAHRAM had plans to use this frame as a companion to a "female" frame they were building. The original runner of Proteus was a man named Lance Jimmer, though I've received some inside info saying that his real name was Ani Aegis. Apparently, he went to heck with the rest of Dezeele Zephyrs' laboratory. That's two more freaks that I'm glad this planet is rid of. But I'm always concerned about someone named Amante Furlair. I've found another memo to an Acemos officer that indicates quite plainly that she was the one who did him in.
"Amante," I whispered as the elevator brought me to the cockpit, which opened for me automatically. It seems to have gotten used to my presence. There's tiny release mechanism, either way. "Amante..."
I know that her name is the Spanish word for 'lover.' Sounds like someone who's too good, or perhaps too hot, to be trustworthy. I've got my priorities, and flirting with one of BAHRAM's hookers isn't one of them. Kinda reminds me of the myth behind my frame. Proteus was a figure from ancient Greek mythology. He was a minor deity who rebelled against the King of Olympus, who was quite the womanizer. Proteus could always change his form, and gave Zeus a really hard time. Sounds like my intention, but the son of Cronos eventually defeated his nemesis. That's not something I want to happen to me. I've got a new designation picked out that still expresses the "go down fighting" mentality, but will suit me a little bit better. I broke my mental ramblings to cue the computer to close the cockpit and move the docking mechanisms away. The reactor was started, and the pilot's seat was quickly protected from the outside world.
"And here I am in my black coat and black T-shirt and black denim pants, none of which would be too much help on the Martian range, and are more likely to creep people out than win their trust. I've got my boots on at least. Here's hoping this thing is air-tight," I said as I input a command into the communication device. I've been living on the edge of the city, and this hangar goes straight to the planet's surface. BIS headquarters is someone in the desert near the Hellespontos Mountains. Simple enough. It's a good thing I shut the door behind me, as the airlock was opening. The dense, stale air was swept into Mars' thin atmosphere. I'd have to close the hangar behind me. I don't want anyone having a bad day. "Computer, prepare for take-off."
The computer had been humming away in the fairly spacious cockpit, the surprisingly wide area around me beeping and flashing in places. There was a clear spot on the front console. It looked like one could put a photograph there. The thought hit me like a brick.
"Idiot! How could you forget why you're even doing this?!" I scolded myself as I took a picture out of my jacket and stuck it in between two pieces of the interior lining. The photo reminded me of what BAHRAM had torn from my life. There was that pretty fifteen-year-old face with its brilliant blue eyes, sunny smile, and long, ribboned, green hair. That face would stay the same way forever, the person behind it a victim of a terrorist attack on June 10, 2173. The force behind it was most certainly BAHRAM. And I'll never forgive them for that. "You know how much I miss you, Amy. You always were the one with more faith. Being in a better place means everyone who knew you can rest assured. 'Live without having to regret,' you always said. Christ help me not to come and see you for the sake of regretting our separation. I think I've gone goofy."
I always have to choke back the tearful memories. Amy and I had been close since our early childhood. We actually started going out that year. She could always see past the facades I put up. Then there was Ned Noachim. He died twice for the suffering he caused in his life. I know that Ned's frame "Ravana" started that fire. And it was BAHRAM that gave a new lease on his diseased life! I wasn't there when Amy was brought into the hospital. I'd missed the whole incident, and there was no way her burns would've allowed her to continue in this world. But I got there before she passed away.
"You can still love," she were her final words encouragement as they led me away so that she could "get some rest." The doctors wanted to try a new kind of surgery on Amy to restore the severe tissue damage, but she didn't pull through. I felt I couldn't love, though. I didn't attend the funeral, and I heard it wasn't much of a ceremony. They say that the coffin wasn't even open. I guess I wasn't the only one who could stand to see those beautiful eyes closed, never to open again. My only memories of Amy are of her life. I guess that's why I took it so hard. She was there one day, and then gone the next. I became reclusive for the next year, and rarely spoke. I finally started to come out from behind the walls I put around my heart since her death. I returned to my life after a few more months, but I wasn't quite the same. People said that I was always somewhere else. I buried myself in music that was about one-hundred-and- seventy years old. In fact, I've downloaded many of my favorite audio files into the Proteus' hard drive, or at least what parts of it I could reach without the access codes. Our song is on it now, ancient as it is.
"Attention runner: please state your name and prepare for DNA registry," the computer blipped. I snapped out of my trance. DNA registry?
"Samuel Gales," I answered with some reservations, but remembered that I was on a mission.
"Please submit hair sample."
A small container in the console opened, and I deposited a loose hair inside. The compartment closed, and the computer began to hum again. It continued for a few moments, and the bland, genderless voice began again.
"DNA sequenced. Activate Proteus Strategic A.I. Program 'MITCH'."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, if you're wondering, Sam/I will have absolutely no romantic involvement with the AI. Why do I even think to mention that? It's something you should take for granted. I guess there were the questions of Leo and ADA, as well as Cage and Pharsti. And "MITCH" doesn't really stand for anything right now. Anyway, whatcha think? Lots of fluff, in my opinion, but I needed to develop my character. This one was significantly longer than the previous, so I hope I haven't lost anyone.
I don't really want to explain the AI and what-not until the chapter-after- next.
Reviews are much appreciated. I've been tearing at this thing for hours, so I'd like to know that I did a good job, or if I missed anything in my sleep-deprived state. I should be a little faster about getting the next chapter up.