A Scarlet Thread

Final fiction project for my Creative Writing class. Don't really like it that much, except for the ending. I didn't keep it simple enough. Blegh. Only a 1st draft. Did this in 3 days.

Mother Anna pulled on Zerah’s robes, urging the child to be serious. “You must behave like an adult now, Zerah,” she said quickly. “It’s very important that you pay attention.”

Since the day began, the Mother-Watcher had been tense, shushing away the majority of Zerah’s piping questions.

Why is she so nervous? the child thought.

Though only six earth-years old, Zerah had the benefit of a private Imperial education, as well as Anna’s own practical lessons and instruction. Mother-Watcher and charge had developed an relatively affectionate bond, and the boy’s relentless curiosity was usually met with a warm, aged patience.

So what’s gotten into her now?

“The ship will lock in place any minute,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”

“Anna, why are you anxious?”

She sighed, standing up now that his clothes had been adjusted. “I’ve met with the Tsnungwe only once before, and that one time was too much.”

Zerah nodded. The Tsnungwe. He had read about them in his history books. They were a curious alien people, known for their puzzling mystique and hyper-advanced intellect. And something else, the boy thought. There was another reason why the entire galaxy was made uneasy by a race that deliberately kept itself to only one star system. Of course, the Tsnungwe had mastered the art of human cloning technology, sending genetically enhanced soldiers and laborers to various clients on multiple planets. It had been said that sometimes they even replicated a lost loved one for the truly grief-stricken--but this was most likely another awe-induced rumor. The Tsnungwe were too cold for that.

There’s one more thing…

Zerah frowned. Why couldn’t he remember? He hadn’t been taught much about the clones and their suppliers, but even the most unenlightened street urchin was caught by a twang of fear at the name.

Tsnungwe.

Zerah shivered, sending white and purple ripples down his robe.

“Come, child,” Anna whispered. She grabbed his hand and led him stumbling out of the room and into the hallway. They stopped for a brief moment as the ship around them lurched.

“We’ve docked.”

The Mother-Watcher took a deep breath before continuing on. She had tried to keep it in the back of her mind since the initial launch, but now that they had arrived at the meeting-station in orbit around a neutral planet, it was impossible not to face what she was about to encounter. A meeting with the Tsnungwe. Such an incident was rare, though not unheard of. Most interactions with the eerily enigmatic alien people were carried out in the form of beamed transcripts or the more confidential space communication relays. But a face-to-face meeting? The occurrence was reserved for the most serious of circumstances, and even then only at the request of the Emperor himself. They’ve gone too far this time, she thought.

 “Mother, why did they need me to come with you?” Zerah asked, panting as he was tugged further and further down the corridor.

“Your job is to watch and observe.”

“But why?” The boy’s voice was pitched at a perfect whine.

“You’re the Imperial Page, for goodness’ sake! The Emperor intends to adopt you as a son once you’ve come of age! Don’t test me with foolish questions. A child in your position needs to know just how wicked these creatures are.”

Zerah knew all too well Anna’s contempt for the Tsnungwe, but the venom in her voice just then had surprised even him.

“You’re not to say anything once we’re in,” she said, slowing as she reached the guards at the sliding metal door.

“The Tsnungwe have done something thoughtless and now they must be properly scolded. Pay close attention. This meeting is for your edification as well as theirs.”

Anna struck Zerah’s hand as he picked at a stitched gold line on his shoulder, then nodded at the guards. One of them turned and began punching buttons on a small console set in the wall next to the doorway.

“Anna?” the small child asked, a slight wavering tone betraying his lack of confidence.

“What is it, boy?”

There was a pause.

“What makes the Tsnungwe unique?”

Anna brushed a thin hair away from her forehead, then spoke.

“They have no eyes,” she said, and the door slid open.

 

 

             A naked youth ran silently down the street. The rain was cold on his back. Where am I? he thought. Lightning danced across the sky behind the boy, illuminating for an instant the small awning which stretched out from above one of the shops. He darted to it, shivering.

            What’s going on?

            It was the middle of the night and the wind and wetness roared around him. He could see no one through the splintered dark of the storm. The boy, protected under the awning, took the time to flex his hands in front of him. Besides the expected slickness, they were covered with a thin, near-translucent film. Strings of it stretched between his fingers as he parted them, joined them, and parted them again.

            What is this?

            He tried desperately to work through what had happened in his mind. The only things he could remember were the bright lights, the noises. He had fled.

            From what?

            The boy looked at his hands again. He thought of how he had run from alley to alley for what seemed like hours now, hoping desperately to come across shelter or someone who could help him. The rain had bit at him as he scurried to and fro, making his wretched condition all the more miserable. Now he thought hard, seizing the opportunity afforded him by the covering above. There had to be some mental landmark of who he was or how he had come here. There had to be a clue.

            Something… something…

            Just then, he heard dogs bark from a short ways off, and he turned. He saw the beams of flashlights come cutting through the torrential downpour, and voices called out at him.

            “Ho! Anyone there?”

            People.

            The boy froze, hunched in the cold and alert.

            “We saw the drop-ships pass overhead! Hello?”

            The track of a flashlight stretched over him and stopped. He squinted his eyes.

            “Hey! Hey, you!”

            The voice shifted, changing directions.

            “I’ve got something over here!” it said to its companions. The boy, blinded, heard the squishing of boots grow louder as he recoiled from both the brightness and the sound. Another voice swore as it floated towards him, spoke to the others.

            “It’s a kid…”

            More flashlights pinned him to the wet ground, preventing his escape.

            “You got a name, son?”

            The boy was silent for a minute as he internalized the question.

            There must be a name…

            “We should take him with us, Hirah.”

            Perez. My name is Perez.

            The band of men coughed and shifted as the one called Hirah deliberated.

            “The She-God knows all life is sacred,” he muttered to himself. Hirah raised his voice to address the men. “We’ll take him back!” he said.

The other men responded by moving closer around the naked boy. Two of them began to lift up his body.

“Who are you?” Hirah asked, as one member of the group threw his cloak around the boy.

A feeble sound croaked up to Hirah’s ears.

“I am Perez.”

 

 

Zerah studied the eyeless face across from him. Above its slit-like nostrils, there was only an expanse of smooth, semi-transparent flesh.

Can they see me?

If the reports were to be believed, the two Tsnungwe in front of him--and, indeed, every member of their race--‘saw’ by sensing chemical imbalances in the air around them; they also supplemented this by emitting sonar waves from their throats which bounced off surrounding objects and relayed information back to them. Zerah knew that this at least was true. The clicking-sounds that were the cause of it haunted him every time they spoke. So no, he concluded, they could not see him--not like he could see them, at any rate. Still, muted purples and blues pulsed and swam in the place where their eyes should be whenever his Mother-Watcher said something particularly offensive. This just so happened to be the case at the moment.

“You Tsnungwe are too foolish to understand!” Anna said, spitting out the name of their people with particular scorn. “Clones can’t just be allowed to tromp around and do God-knows-what without anyone watching them!” She sat back in her bowl of a chair, exasperated.

One of the Tsnungwe ambassadors lifted a long, slender hand to his temple, pressing an elegant finger gently against his skull. “The clones are our creations,” he said in a lilting contralto, allowing time for sonar-clicks between sentences. “We can do with them what we wish.”

Zerah pursed his lips. The Tsnungwe were mysterious, and the fact perturbed him. Without eyes, they were exceptionally difficult to read. What are they thinking? he wondered to himself.

“You are subjects of His Imperial Majesty, and as such you will not disobey standard protocol!”

Anna’s face was becoming red.

“It is wrong for the clones to be exterminated after serving their purpose,” the other ambassador replied, clicking.

“You can’t just let these… these things run about untracked in the Empire!”

The first Tsnungwe shook his head.

“It has already happened, Mother-Watcher.”

Anna clenched her teeth.

“This defiance could mean war, Tsnungwe.”

“The Empire would not risk losing its clones forever. We both know they’re too valuable.”

Anna squeezed her fists in her chair next to her. Zerah had never seen her like this before.

            “There will be repercussions,” she said.

            “Undoubtedly. But our people refuse to deactivate the clones without reason. The chips we implant in them are meant to be used only for emergencies. What you’re having us do now… it’s unethical.”

            Anna threw her hand in the ambassador’s face. “Bah!” she said. “Ethical! The Empire has the right to choose what is ethical!”

            She turned away from them, frustrated. Zerah looked up at her with inquisitive eyes. The Tsnungwe had had a curious effect on his guardian.

            “Then there is nothing further to discuss,” one of the ambassadors said, and they rose from their seats. Anna refused to look at them.

“Repercussions,” she muttered as the eyeless beings strode away and into their ship.

 

 

Mother-Watcher’s report to Emperor Zimri Baasha IX, guardian’s log, EY 2366

00:14:39

 

            The boy is growing well, my lord. Within perhaps only a year, he’ll be ready to wed your Majesty’s daughter. I hope only that another task may be found for him after that. My loyalties, though, are to your Majesty, and so I will accept whatever decision you make.

            Your Page shows increasing aptitude in both critical thinking and problem-solving skills, as well as public speaking. The Royal Guards admire him as a leader, although there are whispers of a certain moral… iniquity. The boy is becoming a young man, and has (regrettably) taken a liking to the brothels of the Inner Rim. Also, a few of Your Majesty’s guards have confronted him concerning what they perceive to be an attitude of superiority and perhaps even open arrogance. These select individuals have been detained and instructed not to speak to Your Page again.

            Nevertheless, the boy has already amassed quite the following among the citizens of the Rim, and will no doubt prove to be a national icon by the time you wish him to be married. If all goes well, Your Majesty will be hailed as a legitimate ruler once his blood is subsumed into the Royal family-line.

            You have my word that your plan will not fail. It was wise of you to preserve what you could.

 

 

            “Captain,” a gruff voice spoke from behind.

            “What is it, Hirah?”

            Perez continued cleaning his energy rifle, not turning to face his compatriot. The two were holed up in one of the ‘buildings’ of the dilapidated shanty-town. The plink-plink of the rain on all the ridged aluminum around them created an atmosphere of apprehension. Various clips of ammunition lay scattered here and there across the cold cement. Three small sonic grenades had been shoved in a corner, and they gave off a faint white glow which matched the sky of the early morning. The man named Hirah stood in the doorway, garbed in traditional rebel fatigues. His combat boots were caked with dirt, and his reflector shield-clip was peppered with dents and scratches.

            “Permission to speak as a friend, sir?”

            The captain turned. He eyed the older man suspiciously.

            “Hirah, you took me in when I was a child. You let me sit at your table. You even showed me the Way.” Perez held up his right hand in a fist, flaunting the cross-shaped burn mark he had received on the back of it as a rite of passage into the rebel ranks. “Of course you can speak as a friend,” he said, a weary warmness in his voice.

            Hirah shifted his weight.

            “Well, I… I’m worried about the upcoming attack.”

            There was a knowing silence between them for a few moments.

            “Sit, friend.” The captain hit the ammunition box he was resting on with a light slap. Hirah moved over to it and sat.

            “I know we’ve planned it with the blueprints, but… attacking the Citadel? We could lose too many men. It would be the end of the Rebellion.”

            “There are risks in every battle, Hirah. You taught me that.”

            Hirah sighed.

            “But is it worth it? The Emperor, he--"

            “Don’t call him that.”

            “Yes. …Yes. The Tyrant. He’s a monster, I know. But gods, man... the cost!”

            Perez furrowed his brow.

            “The Tyrant is a murderer, Hirah!” He spat. “If he kills clones, he’ll have no problem killing you, too. It’s only a matter of time before the laws let him ‘exterminate’ anyone else who’s an inconvenient burden!”

            The captain stomped the butt of his rifle on the ground. Then he exhaled and spoke in a softer voice.

            “We’re not just fighting for ourselves, Hirah. The clones, they…”

            “The She-God knows all life is sacred.” Hirah recited the verse without even thinking it. It had been a banner-call for all rebels, something to raise them up out of the licentious rot and apathy of life in the Outer Rim of the city. Indeed, without the She-God and the Way, Hirah knew he would have failed to become part of something greater. He would have failed to discover purpose and meaning. He would have failed the young man next to him.

            “I know what we’re doing is right,” he said. “I just don’t always think what we’re doing is smart.”

            “They’re almost never the same thing,” said Perez, and this made Hirah chuckle. “And besides…” Perez began with a sly smile. “If it wasn’t for that smartness of yours, maybe you’d be the captain.”

            Hirah promptly bopped him on the head with a leathery hand.

            “You’ll respect your elders!” he let out with a growl. Both men laughed and looked out at the rain before letting the silence and the melancholy settle. Perez focused his eyes on the floor.

            “We must do this,” he said. “The clones are Her children, as are we.”

            Hirah put his hand on the captain’s shoulder.

            “I know, lad,” he said. “Just don’t go and get yourself killed out there.”

            Perez bit his lower lip, then grinned.

            “And let you run the rest of this operation?”

            Hirah pushed him off of the ammunition box.

 

 

            Today is a different day, Zerah thought as he undressed from his Imperial uniform in his quarters. The suite was large and unnecessarily luxurious, with ancient paintings from Old-Earth hung on the walls in their metaglass cases, and an immense circular bathing-chamber attached to the back end. Perhaps it was the successful speech he had just given before coming there that had pleased him, a speech which had had all the members of the Court and Council in riotous applause by the end. That’s not it, he thought. Speeches like today’s were routine to him by now. The moronic dukes and duchesses practically had an orgasm whenever he reached his calls for ‘order in the Empire’ and demanded an end to the Rebellion.

Pigs, he thought.

They just didn’t like the clones--and certainly not clones with rights. Besides, what wealthy and important figure would want his workers, mercenaries, servants, and secret lovers handing out secrets after they served their purpose? Much better just to hand them over to the Tsnungwe for termination. Not to mention the simplicity of solving an escape-case: for the right price, a Tsnungwe command pad could be purchased, and the flick of a switch would drop the disobedient clone right to the ground, as long as he or she was on the same planet.

No, it wasn’t the speech.

As Zerah finished changing into his usual Imperial robes, it struck him just what had made his day so special.

The Tsnungwe.

Yes, that was it. Torturing a Tsnungwe made for good sport. Ever since that meeting as a child, he had been fascinated by their eyeless faces. Put one in enough agony, and you were bound to witness a relative explosion of color come screaming across that fleshy canvas.

Yes, he thought. It was most definitely the early-morning interrogation. That was what had put the extra bounce in his step. Zerah was impressed that he had taken the time to indulge in such a personal pleasure. With all the stress of the upcoming wedding ceremony and its associated preparations, it was a wonder that he could make himself relax. Zerah smiled. Perhaps he would reward himself with an evening trip to his favorite brothel.

Suddenly, a low and resounding thump shook the walls around him. Dust and bits of plaster sprinkled down onto his shoulder. Zerah bounded over to his desk and hit the intercom.

“What the hell was that?”

A cacophonous jumble of static and what sounded like muffled gunfire was the initial reply, then: “Sir, the rebels have launched an all-out attack!”

They wouldn’t dare.

Zerah stared madly at the wall, his thoughts formless. A door slid open to his right.

“My lord, we must get you to the shuttle bay!” said a concerned-looking guard, not waiting for permission to enter the Page’s quarters.

“What?”

“The rebels are sweeping through, sir. They plan to leave no servant of His Majesty alive.”

A tremor of fear shook Zerah down through his legs and feet.

“Let’s get out of here!” he cried, and the guard raced after him and out of the suite.

 

 

            Captain Perez shouted through the smoke.

            “Hirah!”

            The second explosive blast had sent dust and debris rolling through the hallway, and at moments the only real light was from the neon cuts of the energy rifles.

            “Here, Captain!” came the call from farther ahead down the corridor. Men groaned and yelled to each other above the din of rifle-fire and the occasional sonic grenade.

            Perez tried to beat back the smoky cloud with his hand to no avail, and Hirah came up to him, crouched.

            “What’s the situation?”

            “No good, sir! They’ve set up a kinetic particle barrier on the other side!”

            The captain swore. Fighting their way into the Citadel was no easy task. The main area of the bunker-fortress had been constructed as a series of concentric circles, and so each wall had to be breached one at a time and in succession. Getting to the core and, consequently, reaching the central defense mainframe was going to take some time. Enough explosives had been brought of course, but enemy reinforcements could be shuttled in eventually if the barriers held. Zerah shook his head. So close and yet so far. Once in, his rebel team could access the greater security network and shut down stations across the entire continent. At that point, the captain just had to hope that the forces he had pulled for this attack hadn’t left the other outposts with less manpower than they would need. But that wasn’t something he could worry about at the moment.

            “Hirah!” he shouted again, stopping to let a distant sonic grenade rocket screeching sound waves into unsuspecting guards farther off.

            “Sir?”

            “Hold them off here for as long as you can. Make it seem like we’re going to try to push through! Use your reflector if you have to.”

            Hirah looked down at his clip and nodded before receiving a short pat on the arm from the captain.

            “I’m going to flank around near the shuttle bay! Hopefully we’ll meet in the middle,” Perez said, and he took off, recruiting random troopers as he raced down and back between the lines of men.

            Hirah wiped sweat from his brow and nudged the shield-clip on his waist with the butt of his rifle. A reflector, once activated, would instantly create a radiant, glimmering energy field the size of a large wall, repelling any and all rifle-fire sent its way. Unfortunately, the field would eat away at the ozone in the immediate area, leaving just enough oxygen for the soldiers behind it to make a quick decision and a hasty escape. If it came to it, Hirah knew he could press a button and lead his men in a plunge through the kinetic particle barrier--which deflected energy shots and heavy explosives, but let more stable human bodies pass right through. It was a gamble, though. There was no telling what Imperial forces could lay in wait on the other side.

            Ah, well, Hirah thought to himself. There were risks in every battle. He readjusted the rifle strap slung over his shoulder, and then took a glance at the burn-mark on the back of his right hand.

 

 

            The four Royal Guards hastened briskly down the hall after Zerah. The glimpse of Imperial soldiers howling for retreat and calling desperately for a kinetic particle barrier hadn’t helped to improve the Page’s nerves.

            “Hurry up!” he urged. “Or we’ll never get out of here alive!”

            “My liege,” one of them pleaded, “shouldn’t we send a message ahead to ready the retreat shuttles for the men?”

            Zerah turned in confusion, swirling his ridiculous capes about him.

            “What?” he said.

            “The men, my lord,” said another guard. “Shouldn’t we sound the retreat?”

            “What? No, you fool! Leave them here. We need whatever time they can purchase for us. Besides,” he said, resuming his manic strides towards the next sliding door, “the whole place can be gassed once we leave.”

            The party stopped. Each guard stared at the young man in disbelief.

            “But… but, my lord, I--”

            “When we reach the Palace and speak with the Emperor, he’ll be sure to send replacements. Now, move!” Zerah grabbed the rifle of the guard nearest him in an attempt to pull them ahead, but the thing merely slipped out of the stunned and unmoving hands. The Page caught it in his gut with a distinct grunt. The guard he had robbed it from whispered quietly and in shock.

            “I have a brother back there…”

            Zerah looked irritated.

            “So?”

            The guard slowly shook his head.

            “Sir, I… I can’t go on if that’s what’s going to happen.”

            The young man flew into a rage.

            “What?!? I’m the Imperial Page, and you’re worried about your brother?” His tone was incredulous.

            “I’m sorry, sir. But I just can’t.”

            Zerah’s face darkened. He had clearly had enough.

            “Fine,” he said, and a sizzling bolt of molten energy went shooting into the guard’s chest. It took the victim an instant to realize what had happened. But then, all objections stifled, the lifeless body went slumping to the floor. Blue smoke wafted up from the wound. The guards exchanged glances.

            “Anyone else?”

 

 

            Perez panted heavily as he jogged past rows and rows of transport shuttles in the hangar bay.

            Where is it?

            The men he had grabbed ran along a few paces behind him, searching. They had received instructions from their captain to point out any doors which looked like they might double back to the core.

            “Anything,” he had said to them. “As long as there’s a chance it might take us around to the other side of that particle barrier.”

            Now, Perez tromped here and there like a crazed devil, obsessed with finding his portal.

            We have to be getting closer…

            The sharp zap-zap-zap of rifle-fire grew more pronounced and definite from where they had been earlier. This pushed the captain even more.

            Just then, he spotted it: a small door made of metasteel on the side wall. It had a sputtering red safety light perched above it.

            “There!” he hollered, pointing to the left with a free hand.

            The rebel soldiers fanned out and made their way to it, ducking under the wings of docked shuttles as they went. Perez scanned the zone around him with a quick sweep of his rifle, checked the way they had come for any followers, then regrouped with his men by the light. They all put their hands on their thighs and bent over to catch their breath.

            “Looks like it only opens from the other side,” the captain said, noting that the door hadn’t slipped open for them when they first approached it. The troopers nodded their heads in fatigued agreement.

            “Well, any of us got a breaching-charge?” he asked, and the men simply continued gasping.

            “I guess that--”

            He was interrupted by the immediately recognizable woosh sound of a sliding metallic door.

            Perez turned to confront the noise, and was abruptly taken aback when he found himself face-to-face with a finely dressed and tremendously frightened copy of himself.

Author's Note

Gimme lots of comments on this one: I put a TON of energy into this. Any suggestions on a simpler but still coherent plot would be great. The e-mail/letter thing in the middle is the part I'm most embarrassed about.

Reviews

[Sammie]

Well done!! I loved it. I think you have developed a story line that could really become something someday. I hardly read this sort of genre because a lot of the terminology and plot is lost on me but this wasn't confusing at all. I particularly liked the way both boys grew up, I really thought Zerah was going to grow up with values but I was surprised to see he was horrid, I can't believe what he did to the guard.

I can relate with putting in the energy and desperately wanting to know what people think of your work and I can tell you this the ton of energy you invested paid off and don't be embarrassed about the note in the middle, I think it was a nice touch, and a different way to show time has fast forward.

Awesome stuff!!