|The Platform Anthology
Author: Jave Harron PM
Welcome to the Platform... An orbital platform with an Earth-like environment. The humans have regressed to barbarianism, and let petty matters divide them. Enter a world beyond imagination. An anthology as a prelude to a novel.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,113 - Reviews: 9 - Updated: 05-29-05 - Published: 05-26-05 - id: 1922703
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Note: This story and the previous one were done by different writers. This one's done by yours truly.
The Platform: Twilight of a Dying Day
By Jave Harron
Dear God! I hate cities like this. The sights, the raw human sewage in the streets, the filthy conditions, and most of all, the stench. Ghalosians don't bath more than once a year, and it shows, or smells, rather. I still have my business to conduct here, though. Networks of contacts don't build themselves. Especially not in places like this, with secret Inquisition agents everywhere.
I have to be extra-stealthy around here. I can hardly believe I'm doing this myself: Jumping from roof to roof of buildings under the cover of night, hoping the shoddy, thatched things can support my weight. Ghalos' capitol city is one big fire and health hazard. Straw thatched hovels are the most common building, there's piles of human waste in the muddy alleys they call streets, and revolting peasants (no pun intended) and nobles. A bit of bubonic plague would really destroy this city's population.
Anyway, I still had some business to do now. I slung my bow over my shoulder and bolted forward to the next rooftop. I hid behind a chimney and saw my quarry: an old warehouse. I would have to rendezvous with my contact soon, then stow away on a Ghalosian vessel heading for Jakar. Just then, the rooftop I was on began to rumble. The poor building skills of Ghalosians were finally catching up to me.
Quickly, I bolted and leapt to the parallel roof of the warehouse. I pulled myself up, and rested for a second. It was only then I noticed the stars were starting to appear in the twilight of a dying day. I saw something in the night sky I hadn't for a while. The Eye of the Gods, as the primitive screw heads on this Platform called it.
The Hole in the Universe. The Eater. The Final Solution. The Last Refuge of a Cowardly Culture. They all were the same names for describing that fucking black hole. And to think, it had been built by the same corrupt social order that made this Platform in the first place. They built it for ironic reasons: a low tech utopia made with high technology. The whole Platform's a disgrace. It always was, and always will be. I can't want until this thing comes apart.
Hopefully, the Platform will get ripped apart, and each of these fucking sections will get sucked into different wormholes. However, for now, I have to make sure I have contacts in each of the regions, to help prepare me for that glorious time.
Just then, I heard a screaming sound. I looked down. There was a fat, old nobleman holding a young woman. "Silence, daughter! It is my divine right to do this!" the nobleman yelled as he ripped off his shirt, "The divine authority of the Kingpriest allows me-"
He got cut short by an arrow through the throat. I love my longbow. It's a simple, yet versatile weapon. And it's powerful enough to be used without raising many eyebrows. I sometimes do a good deed with it, but most of the time, I'm not able to. Still, I do like to eliminate assholes from this mortal coil when I get the chance.
I climbed into the rickety warehouse, careful to avoid the lanterns that barely lit the place. If one of those fell, it would likely burn this wooden and straw city to the ground. I saw a shade on the floor, and climbed down. It was my contact. He was dressed in standard Templar gear, plasteel platemail and helmet with a massive tower shield. However, his weapon of choice was on the simple side. He was a talk and stocky fellow, but carried a sling and short sword instead of the halberds or pikes characteristic of the Templars.
"Semper fi," he said. The codeword.
"Sergeant Alexius, report," I said. I love having a pseudo-military structure for my contacts. Alexius loved it, since he was already a member of the Templars, the unit "loyal" to my rival, Provost Zeno Phanes.
He saluted and "Commander Ming Wen, I think I've suffered a slight setback."
"Yes?" This worried me. Alexius was normally dependable.
"I was bitten by one of the maschine hunde," he said in a worried tone, "I think I might have the Gray Plague."
Shit. I looked at him under my retinal implant's scanalysis. He was indeed contracting it. That meant I would have to give him some medical nanobots. I was running out of those recently. I pulled a syringe from inside my robes, and jammed it into his exposed neck. He screamed in pain, and fell down.
"It might sting now, but you'll wake up in a few minutes," I said to him as I returned the syringe to my robes. "Now, you should rest over the next few days. You'll need all the rest you can get."
Darn. I was down a contact in the region. So that meant I would have to do my dirty work in the region by myself from now on. Including a certain monarch who had it coming: the Kingpriest. And no one would suspect that I, a "normal" girl from Choyun, would actually do it. If they only knew where I was really from. That, however, is a story for another day. Now, I had a ship to catch.