Ha, being compared to Asimov is far more than I would have expected. Thanks for the review!
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Survivor's Guilt
They were all dead. In a single instant all of them perished. They didn’t suffer, except perhaps the pain of their own sins before it happened, but their death was quick. Meaningless and destructive and horrifying, yes, but at least it was quick. Someone with a conscience, some poor bastard who feels grief over all lost life and sees those that are brutally killed as martyrs would take solace in the fact that the troubles of the universe would no longer plague them. A realist might think it a shame to lose such people, able-body people, people who could have been scientists or diplomats or artisans. God knows everyone needs artisans; the Empire was rather dull. But a smart man, nay, a brilliant one, would have but one gem of a thought; at least it wasn’t me. A cold thought, but sentiment is for the religious or the common folk. The greats, the exceptional society-driving minds think it was a loss of good manpower, but it wasn’t me, and thus those minds would turn to other matters. Matters like ensuring that it never was you. The most intelligent man in the universe would commit to great causes others would see as noble or the reverse, gruesome and immoral, for one great reason; survival. Obsession with the betterment of a large group of people is as good as suicide. Likewise, so is an unhealthy preoccupation with pain and death, such that someone would take pleasure in its infliction upon themselves and others. What the smart man would do is what is necessary to survive because that is all humanity is there for. Humans are animals, brutes with brains, but still driven by the primal instinct to survive. So wouldn’t the man who runs from a fight that can never be won be a great person?
Without doubt, Kahn Jolnim is such a specimen of humanity, a god among beasts. He wields no weapons like those of the fallen; no, he cast those aside at least a kilometer behind him. Now he was doing what the smartest animal in any world would do – running. Running from blazing lights. Running from dazzling yet destructive explosions. Running merely to live another hour.
The opportunity presented itself when the commander shot himself, the fool, and chaos was rampant for a time. An atrocity is sometimes a necessary thing, for a genius. He wasn’t the only one to run afterwards, no, just the only one to kill to keep running. The rest undoubtedly got caught and were dead by the weapons of either side. There were a few big risks that Kahn took. What if they had won? What if they retreated and caught up with him? Deserters were shot, so it could have ended terribly for Private Jolnim. But the risks were worth it, if he got away. But what if the winners came after him? That was why he threw aside his weapons, he reminded himself. Nothing but a computer chip in his brain that could be traced, and those chips were not meant to be found by the enemy. He was safe, it had been four hours since he could no longer hear the sounds battle.
Now, all this great man would have to do is find a source of sustenance or else a way off this planet. The later would easily land him in hot water with the invaders or the defenders; so living off the land would have to do. Besides, it wouldn’t be that bad. A small band of homeless colonists wandered in the hills not far from the valley were the city was and where the battle had been fought. Most had evacuated but Kahn had personally heard the reports about a few NC’s that were being tracked to that region, just a day earlier.
So Kahn kept running, only now it was a gentle jog. He hadn’t much energy left, after sprinting for the first two kilometers, vomiting, then running for what seemed like hours (which was really only half and hour) before gagging again. Then the scuffle with those two scouts. If they hadn’t been so nosey, they might have lived for an hour or so more. As it was, he had to eliminate them with his only weapon, a wickedly sharp knife. It was they or he, and besides, what were two more?
The sun was dropping behind the far mountains when the private reached the hills. There were caves here, somewhere. That’s where the colonists would be hiding, probably. At the least he would have shelter. The sky was a clear one that night, so it would get chilly quickly. Sure enough, by the last dim light of the setting sun, he found a small cave. Not much, and there were no people, but it enclosed him from the wind. He took off his pack, which he had prepared last night, and pulled out a few of its contents. Kahn had received many strange looks and comments while he packed this bundle. His superior officer, the idiot who committed suicide, had asked Kahn if he was planning to go camping with all that he was bringing. Kahn merely replied he was preparing for all ‘contingencies.’ The officer just snorted, but he was dead now so he didn’t matter.
Ripping open a ration pack, he chewed the foul stuff while handling his knife. The sharp, ten-centimeter blade was his only weapon; anything with a power source would be detectable. He had already deactivated the link between his Neural Computer and the Combat Network, so amongst the high-iron content and intense magnetism of the hills and mountains the chance of a positive signal confirmation from any vessel in orbit would be minimal. The colonists probably sought out regions where interference was low in order to be spotted.
A shuffle near to the cave’s entrance startled Kahn. His heart was racing as he whirled with knife in hand, jabbing at the air as if to ward off invisible foes. For a moment he saw nothing and his imagination ran wild with visions of creeping Incurians coming to finish off the last humans on the planet. The noise, however, had a much simpler origin; a scrag, a rodent-like native creature. Kahn almost laughed as the little thing waddled inside the cave on six stub-like legs. He remembered hearing that the creature had no visual receptors of any kind, and therefore could only smell or hear him. Feeling confident and sensing an opportunity for amusement, Kahn began snapping his fingers in different directions. The slow creature followed the sounds a few times, but seemed to lose interest and continued waddling towards Kahn. Also losing interest, Kahn kicked the thing across the cave and sat down again to finish his ration bar. Trying to think how such a stupid species could survive, especially with so few other species of either flora or fauna, his mind brushed on the planetary briefing he and the other soldiers attended before being dropped on the desolate and doomed rock. It mentioned many items of importance, such as the gale-force gusts of wind that blew down from the mountains, the toxicity of the water to humans, but what Kahn could not remember was the small footnote on the mountains. He knew it mentioned the scrags, but could not remember what it had said, since at the time he saw no need to retain the information. He soon regretted his shortsightedness. Even a brilliant man can make mistakes.
The scrag, waddling silently while Kahn pondered its significance, had reached his foot once more. Brushing its wiry whiskers on the man’s boot, it struck with impossible speed. A small gap at the creature’s conical snout stretched and revealed a maw of small but razor sharp teeth, twisting oddly as powerful compact muscles flexed. The maw engulfed a quarter of Kahn’s left foot before he could even blink. As the maw shrank and gyrated, the sharp teeth sawed through the boot and pierced skin easily. Kahn shrieked in pain, screaming nonsensically at the pain. He shook his foot left and right, and it only increased the pain. He could feel the shredded boot slip away at the same time that the teeth began to grind into bone. This sent him into new heights of agony. Blood slicked the rock as he tried desperately to crush the scrag with stones. The animal did not lessen its vice grip, pulling chunks of flesh away while gouging bone.
Kahn knew it was hopeless, that the wound would bleed him to death. He reached unconsciously for his pistol to kill himself before he remembered he had cast it aside. He heard a crunch as one of his toes, he could not tell which, broke off. The noise of the bone breaking off, more than the pain, pushed him over the edge. He passed out in a heap on the stone floor of the small cave.
“Hey, wake up. Wake up, son!” A hand shook the unconscious man. He groaned and turned to his left. He was awake, but wished he wasn’t. He did not wish to be dead; even to think of such a thing was against his very nature. No, this specimen of humanity was loathing what the situation had come to. For Kahn Jolnim to be alive was to say that he had received the help of another person, probably a group of people. It would be his luck that these people were the stranded colonists. Obsession with the betterment of a large group of people is as good as suicide, he had always told himself. He would never willingly help these people, no; his fear was that they might, in a vain attempt to escape and get their families to safety, bring the enemy down on everyone. Kahn had not gone to great lengths to escape the enemy only for some noble ignoramus to get him killed.
“I said awake! You’ve got some explaining to do, son!” The hand jabbed Kahn in the back hard and he sat up quickly, gazing viscously at the man that had touched him. Kahn was inside a cave, however this one was much larger than his, with no discernable exit. That troubled him, but the dim light showed the large man that had disturbed him, and the sight was even more troubling. He was large, easily two meters, with thick muscled arms. His prominent chin and jaw line sported a graying beard, and his short black hair was cut like a military man’s. His glower caused Kahn’s to falter.
“We found you about five hours ago and brought you with us, if you are wondering how you got here,” growled the burly man. “You’re lucky, you could have been dead by now from the how much you were bleeding. Don’t you have any sense, boy?” The question enflamed Kahn’s anger, but still he said nothing.
“I said, don’t you have any sense? Scrags are best killed when spotted, but it looks as though you let this one just walk right up and bite ya. Even a military briefing would have mentioned scrags. Blind and stupid, yes, but they bite anything that’s not rock.” Kahn’s anger abated as he started to panic, looking down at his foot. He felt no pain and feared he would find no foot. It wasn’t that bad, and yet Kahn still nearly threw a fit.
“What is this bloody contraption attached to my foot! What are you trying to do, make it worse!” The man said nothing for a moment, then backhanded Kahn on the side of his head. The hit surprised the private more than anything. He rubbed it however, acting as though hurt by it.
“That is about the only thing we had that could help you. It’s an older machine, a early regenerator, and its accelerating your healing and preventing pain. You would rather I take it off? You would rather hop around on one foot to ease the pain?” Kahn shook his head slowly. “Then I suggest you stop your complaining. Now, as I said before, private, you have some explaining to do. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Still rubbing his head and eyeing the boxy white machine attached to his foot like a brick, he began to answer. An idea quickly came to him, before he said his name. “My name is Kerry. Kerry… Majors.”
“Well then Private Majors, the other question. Why are you here?”
“I walked here, from the city outskirts.”
“From the battle,” growled the large man, a suspicious glint in his eyes.
“Y-yes, from the battle. You see, it went poorly; m-my company was the rear guard. We were bombarded from orbit, the blockade-runners must have gotten through and – wait, I shouldn’t tell you this, its military business. Not for the common folk,” ended Kahn defiantly. He sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to finalize his statement. It didn’t have the intended effect. The large man laughed, loudly. Kahn noticed others in the large cavern for the first time as many of them looked at the two men.
“You know what?” the man asked, through his mocking laughter. He grinned, not pleasantly, as he stopped laughing and leaned in, lowering his voice dangerously. “I think you’re a runaway, a deserter. You have a shifty look about you. I’m ex-military, Private, a colonel with the marine guard at the Temple of Ares, and I recognized your uniform and rank. I know first hand what this government does to deserters.” He sat back and laughed quietly again, seeing the fear in Kahn’s eyes. The man rose to his feet and the private shrunk back, fearing a deathblow. Instead, he received a hand, held out to help him to stand.
“As I said, I am ex-military. The matter is not my concern. My name is Boris Kobackov, but you may call me just Boris. If I weren’t willing to help you, I would have left you to die. I pledged to get these people off this rock alive, and I will help you as well.” Kahn slowly reached up and took Kobackov’s hand, using it to rise uneasily to his feet, putting most of his weight on the uninjured leg. Kahn was wary of this change, and waited for Boris to say more.
“Know this though,” he continued, crushing Kahn’s hand slightly in his massive hand, ” I do not trust you one bit. My eyes are always on you. Once we get the okay, everyone you see here will be taking my ship to orbit, and then aboard a ship with a laser drive, bound for Gamma Leonis.” Kahn’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted the ship, but not off the planet, at least not for a few months. But what he feared most was being captured. It didn’t matter if it was by the Incurians or by humans, the result would be the same: death. The fool before him would drag him into the waiting arms of death for his own misguided heroism and righteousness.
Boris leaned forward, a menacing glint in his eyes and the pressure increasing on Jolnim’s hand. He spoke softly but with a lethal tone, his words breathed with threat and anger. “My eyes are on you, deserter. One wrong step, I kill you with my fists,” he said, clenching his left hand till the knuckles were white, for emphasis. Kahn nodded, but still didn’t speak. Straightening himself and dropping the tone, the large ex-soldier spoke again. “We will be leaving shortly, as soon as the OK is given. You will help us load up. It will do your foot good to move around, get the blood pumping.”
No one understands a genius and his methods. Selfishness may only be self-preservation; what could be seen as cruelty may only be the actions necessary for survival. The smart are ruthless, remorseless, and regretless. Kahn had no regrets; he would have none later. He loathed helping to facilitate an ill-conceived escape from solitude into the hands of death, however he consoled himself that even a bit of perceived helpfulness and selflessness can be of aid to the survivalist genius. As he helped load various belongings and supplies, he smiled brightly and nodded enthusiastically at the doomed survivors of this wretched rock. They probably mistook his enthusiasm as encouragement and took hope from it. Kahn smiled even more at that thought. A genius was sometimes allowed the satisfaction of knowing his intellect would save his life, despite the odds.
The good ex-colonel was not as diligent in his observance as he should have been. The cargo was too great; the small transport’s hold could not take it all and still house the refugees. When many protested the idea of leaving anything behind, Boris caved, ordering that they begin stacking crates and storage containers in various compartments, such as the small, empty armory, the infirmary and crew bunks, and to Kahn’s salvation, inside the generator room. The largest compartment in the 40-meter long craft, the generator room held the small fusion reactor, as well as the engine manual controls, EMFG diagnostic equipment, and atmosphere circulation unit and scrubber, and despite the relative large size of the room, it was made cramped by all the equipment. The reactor was a simple model; a trained marine technician would have no trouble repairing or selectively damaging it. A trained technician would also have to be blind to not see how decrepit the old scrubber and circulator were; a little tweak in the right direction would be more than sufficient. This particular brilliant technician, in a brief moment of solitude, secured his safety and survival. Private Jolnim, a marine tech and heavy weapons specialist, had become such to try and save himself from intense combat. He took pride now in knowing it would save him in an unexpected but brilliant way.
Not half an hour after the last cargo had been secured away, Boris came into the large cave where all were sitting in silent waiting. He was flushed from running, but visibly enthusiastic.
“I just received an encoded message from orbit. Our friends up there have given the all clear; no Incurian ships in orbit, or on the plotted exit vector. We should hurry,” he said, helping an older man up from the ground. “I want to be underway in fifteen minutes.”
Kahn went cold. It was almost time to carry out his plan. He let the colonist all gather and exit the cave in front of him, but the expected happened.
“You, Majors,” said Kobackov sternly. “You’ll stay up on the bridge, where I can watch you.” Kahn could only nod his acquiescence. This was expected, after all. Boris stomped purposefully behind him as they traversed the short distance to the sheltered clearing where the cargo ship waited. Just before they climbed the ramp inside the vessel, a distant rolling crash reverberated in Kahn’s ears. From his vantage standing at the base of the ramp he could see towering thunderheads, far above and away from the valley. Something seemed unnatural about the sound, though. Not at all like thunder should sound. Kobackov’s impatient cough behind him brought Kahn out of his deep thought. He dismissed the oddity of the noise as simply a peculiar effect from the thick air and nearby high cliffs.
The ramp shuddered and clunked noisily closed behind them, and with Kahn leading the way both men walk from the lower deck’s rear hatch up the narrow spiral stair to the main deck. At the end of a twelve-meter walkway they entered a rectangular compartment, not more than four meters long and five wide. Kahn was shoved to the side of bridge, against a wall to the left of the only chair in the room, where Kobackov sat. Six others stood, either at oversized control consoles or wall panels. One man stood at the other side of the raised center chair with a helmet-like apparatus on his head, apparently the helm interface. Kobackov studied something on a screen attached to his left armrest, then lifted his head to speak.
“Felix, take us up, in the course I showed you. Don’t deviate for any reason. Michel,” he said over his shoulder, after addressing the helmsman. “When I give the word, be sure to have the EMFG up. Just enough to protect us from the radiation, to save power.” The system’s aging star produced unusually high solar radiation. Without the electromagnetic field to create a protective bubble around the small cargo ship, everyone aboard would receive an unhealthy, large dose of radiation once they were in space. Kahn kept his eyes on Michel, noting his movements and expression. He gave Kobackov an acknowledgement in response. Kahn sighed silently.
The deck shook as the ship wrestled with gravity, slowly winning and rising with agonizing slowness above the rocky ground. There were no windows in the room, however Kahn knew if there were he would see jets of light too bright to look at directly on either side. He staggered back a step as the direction of thrust changed. The twin engines sat on rotating pylons on either side of the ship; they were now angled to push them both upward and forward. After a few moments of discomfort, the pressure from acceleration ceased. Michel announced to all that the inertial suppression device had been engaged.
As their steady ascent continued, Kobackov pulled a small earpiece with a microphone attachment and hooked it on his right ear. After tapping a few contacts on the small screen, he spoke into the microphone, in a lower tone.
“This is Kobackov, we’re on our way. Yes the line is secure. No, we’ll be at the rendezvous within the hour.” He was conversing with the military ship that would pick them up, thought Kahn. His heart began beating faster, thinking of how close he was to being caught by marines. Not to mention the fact that Incurians could be lurking anywhere, avoiding detection as they did with frightening talent. Kobackov continued his conversation, lowering his voice even more, just barely audible by Kahn.
“Did you check on our – friend? No? None at all? Interesting. Anybody, you know, turn up missing?” Kahn’s heart nearly skipped a beat. Boris was having the military check for him!
“Hm. Wait, what do you mean? That far behind the frontlines, that can’t be – what? I didn’t copy that last sentence, did you say something about sabotage?” Kahn was near to panic. They had found out, no doubt by analyzing the blast. They had discovered it didn’t have an Incurian source. They would trace the blast origin, compare it with the troop deployments at the time, locate his last known NC location and the discrepancy between the time it cut out and the time of the event and come to a conclusion that would get Kahn executed for sure.
“Go back, did they say who they thought – “
“Boris,” interrupted Michel. Kahn thought he might collapse, he was so relieved. “We’re approaching critical altitude. Should I activate the EMFG?”
“Yes, yes, do it now,” answered Kobackov impatiently, angered at being interrupted. He was about to ask the man on the radio channel a question when Michel spoke up again.
“Uh, Boris? I think we have a problem. I’m reading a power failure when I try to activate the generator, but the core is fine. I just can’t get the field up.” The large man stood, taking off the earpiece while he took two long strides to stand behind Michel.
“The generator is fine, see the diagnostic here? It has to be the core.”
“Sorry, Boris. Its not, I triple checked it, I can’t see where the problem is.” Kobackov checked himself, and then sighed deeply. He told the helmsman to hold altitude, then glared with frustration at Michel, who stood and stared sheepishly back.
“Why don’t you go back, have a look? You can fix it if you find the problem, right?”
“I – I told you, I’m not much of a mechanic. I maintained deep-core drills, not fusion reactors.” Kahn closed his eyes. This would be the tricky part. He stepped forward and addressed the two men, his head held up and a grim, serious expression locked on his face.
“I’m a marine tech, I could fix the core. Will you let me have a look?” Boris glared at him silently, as if willing him to confess a devious intent. Kahn knew inside he was torn between suspicion and the desperate desire to save his people. Had Kahn been Boris, he would have prudently killed a suspected traitor long ago. But then, he wasn’t Boris. Righteous causes clouded common sense, and right now Kahn could see in the others’ eyes he would give in to the desire to help others, and against his instincts allow an untrustworthy man access to sensitive equipment.
“Marshal, go with them. Keep a close eye on him. And hurry, we don’t have much spare fuel.” A man, almost as large as Boris, nodded and stepped from his consol and followed the other two. Kahn gave a small, grim-yet-innocent smile to Kobackov on the way out. They went down the main corridor, past compartments packed with nervous people, to the generator room. The hatch slid open, and all three pressed inside, Michel first, followed by Kahn and Marshal, with his hand on the Kahn’s shoulder. The second the door slid closed, and the private acted.
In the dim, cluttered room, there was no room to maneuver or shield oneself. And besides, a ruthless survivalist, that rare and stunning genius among thugs and fools, knew nothing of physical discomfort. A little blood, or a lot of it, on the hands or arms or face was a small price to pay. Again, what were two more? Hundreds had already fallen to Kahn’s powerful intellect. Shortly there would be a few dozen more, but they did not matter. It is small price to pay, to keep one so brilliant and enlightened from death.
As soon as their bodies both hit the ground, their throats slit by Kahn’s ten-centimeter knife, he stepped to the control consol he wanted. He tapped in his commands and, with the alarm deactivated and the safeguards removed, he pressed the final contact. Grabbing and securing the small oxygen breather to his face, Kahn went about repairing the damage he had done earlier to the EMFG power feed. He sighed into the mask. He thought of the children aboard, now suffering with the others as carbon dioxide flooded the ship and poisoned everyone. He shook himself out of his thoughts however. He was a survivor, and he knew no guilt. Hundreds had died, what were a few more, even if they were children.
Making his way back up the corridor to the bridge, he checked each room to ensure their occupants were dead. At least it had been quick for them. Inside the bridge was no different; everyone had perished in minutes. Pulling the helm interface from the dead Felix, Kahn put it on and sat in the chair, vacated by the now-dead Boris Kobackov. He could see an external view via the interface; the ship was flying above cloud level; all the ground was shrouded. He redirected the engine exhaust, turning the ship down and towards the city. He’d surely find food stores there to last him months, till the activity in the sector died down. With the Incurians probably long gone and the city already evacuated and demolished, the fleet had no reason to stay. He would be safe.
An idea came to the ex-private. Finding Boris and fishing inside one of his pockets, Kahn found the small earpiece communication device. He put it in his own ear, just to see what the military ship was saying now. He listened, and what he heard made him freeze.
“I say again, you must not go back down. The Incurians are crawling all over the city, they will spot you and shoot you down. Listen Kobackov, if you’re there, I’ve got cargo and passengers here, and I’m no military cruiser. The fleet is in full retreat, and the Incurian ships will be back here any time. I’ve got to get to Jump distance, I can’t wait around. Sorry, Boris, I’m pulling out. A man’s got to do what he can to survive, you know?” The line went to static.
It was a cargo ship. The Imperials and the Incurians had left orbit. The only hope of survival had just left orbit. The betrayer could not even process all these thoughts.
A man has to do what he can to survive. Surrounded by dead, Kahn Jolnim, the genius, the ultimate survivalist, the ruthless, soulless, gutless coward, slipped gracefully into the clouds and met his end.
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Jacamo reviewed Version 1 -
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SwordMistress reviewed Version 1 -
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Overall this was well written. There were a couple of spots like the bottom of page one where you ramble on a bit. This could be really exciting if there were more action.
Great opening line.
“Someone with a conscience, some poor bastard who feels grief over all lost life and sees those that are brutally killed as martyrs would take solace in the fact that the troubles of the universe would no longer plague them.” This is awkward.
“Then the scuffle with those two scouts.” Why not write out the scuffle? Make us part of the action, show us what’s happening – that exciting, telling us after the fact is dull.
“As soon as their bodies both hit the ground” Why don’t you describe the fight. This is the most exciting thing that has happened so far.
I liked the ending, although it was somewhat predictable.
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brohne reviewed Version 1 -
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It is rare to come across someone brave enough to tackle an unsympathetic main character. You did this very well. I found myself agreeing with Kahn on some points and utterly repulsed on others. The ending was satisfying as well, for all his so-called genious he sabatoged himself.
It reads like something from Asimov’s, great job.
kadiya reviewed Version 1 -
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Overall, you have talent. The fact that you dont want grammar, punctuation, spelling issues defined makes it a little difficult. Mostly because, if you had corrected the issues that we are not talking about, the story would be darned near perfect.
So, that said, the story line was interesting, unique and flowed well. I really liked your protagonist’s personality, and the fact that his self thought ‘superiority’ came unstuck in the end. The world created here is truly believable in a Sci-fi way.
It is definately publishable, but not as it is. Please take the time to edit and correct.
Thanks.
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