The laser blasts were coming thick and fast but they had managed to make it to service corridor D4.
"Sergeant, we need to get to the communication room and be given 3 minutes to download the material. I need options." Darek shouted at his Sergeant-in-arms, keeping a close eye as the security forces moved under fire towards the rebel group.
"Sir, the only option I can give you is leave me Jarel and Gayyvel, we will give you time." The Sergeant didn't look back, he just returned constant, aimed fire upon the encroaching forces.
Darek hated this, he had already lost so many lives on this mission and now he was being asked to sacrifice three more. His courage nearly left him at that moment but then he remembered what they were trying to do and how many planets and systems relied on this communication getting out. He knew what he had to do but didn't want to make the order. The Sergeant saved him once more "Jarel, Gayyvel, you just volunteered to be hero's and legends in the history of the movement. Get some thermite grenades and your A game." Both moved with purpose and resignation.
Darek hated himself then, this was his plan, he had sacrificed a score of people on the diversionary tactics, he had even lost Garel. They had spent time in a security prison together, he wouldn't have survived his first week in jail without Garel. The fact that he had lost him to a random patrol still hurt, he had watched them drag Garel away, knowing that to try and save him would of lost the causes best chance but knowing that Garel had been left to die for the galaxy to be free.
Darek made it to the communication room with his remaining two guards. He left them outside the door while he began the download procedure. He knew this was a one way mission, he knew that even if he could download the files, the security forces would capture and torture him to death.
Darek aligned the transmitter antenna's and started to charge the emitter which would push the signal out into the void, along the security forces own emergency broadcasting system. It couldn't be stopped once the firewall had been breached, he had paid a hefty sum to make sure the signal would get through.
"Give me a situation update people." Darek shouted over the hum of the communication reaching the pinnacle of its power.
"Sir, the firing has quieted, maybe the sarge got them.....alllkkk" a laser blast caught the young soldier in the throat, shutting short her sentence and also her life. To the credit of her colleague, he didn't waste time shouting, whilst blindly firing down the corridor with one hand, the other slapped the door closing panel. Darek could smell the fused wires within the room as his last guard fired into the panel, sealing him inside the communication room.
Darek stood frozen to the spot, fear had rendered him immobile, as the door came under a sustained barrage of laser fire and the emitter chimed its readiness. Darek started to breath again. He didn't want to die but too many had died to get him to this point. Before he started the download system a impossible familiar voice came over the tannoy.
"Darek, buddy, there's no point." Darek had already started the download but once again found himself frozen but not in fear this time.
"Garel.....it can't be you...I saw you get snatched. That isn't you, this is a trick." Darek spluttered as he watched the progress bar indicate the signal being downloaded into space.
"It is me buddy, I hate to tell you this but what your seeing isn't the signal being transferred. Its a fake. Did you not wonder why this communication station was so poorly defended, just when you needed direct access to the emergency broadcast system." Garel said in his matter of fact tone.
Darek had already started to check the signal and quickly found what he feared he would, Garel was right, the whole system was a fake.
"Why Garel?" Darek shouted at the door. The response came after a long delay. Garel sounded like he was repressing a smirk "Well, money of course. I got swept along with your talk of revolution, your plan's, the hope but to tell you the truth, I didn't think you would get this far and I decided to cash out early." Darek barely contained his fury and desperation in his reply, " Garel, you saw the footage, the re-education camps, the forced abortions, the raping centres and the death camps. For five hundred years they have ruled the galaxy with an iron grip, destroyed countless civilisations and absorbed the rest. How could you do this to them, to me?" Garel didn't even hesitate this time "Their not my people. What do I care if they are dying. I saw an opportunity to get out of this situation and make a little money. Their coming in to get you, I have convinced them not to hurt you but you need to tell them if there are anymore copies of the footage. Be clever about this Darek, you could get rich out of this as well."
Darek first heard the laser torch being used on the door, later witnessing its lance of pure energy protruded from the frame. He had maybe 4 minutes. He didn't intend to fight them when they stormed the room, he knew that the movement was going to die today and that nobody would try to rise against the brutal masters for a long time. He had made copies of the footage but there wasn't anybody left to get it out into the open. A realisation had dawned on him.
"Garel, can you pass on a message to your masters....fuck you and fuck them." a small wiry smile of defiance played across his lips as his laser pistol discharged into this temple. He realised at the end that it wasn't enough to fight a tyrant government, you had to fight the tyrant inside yourself. As life left him he also was comforted in the last though he had, even at the end, it is always worth one small defiant act.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Monday, 21 May 2012
Murder One - Short Story 1
Short Story 1 -
"Why the fuck do I get myself into these kind of situations" Steve came to the unfortunate realisation that he was talking to himself. He always thought that single-manned patrols were a bad idea but it took a 3am call to an alleged burglar on scene to plainly highlight that he was all alone and vulnerable.
When he arrived on scene he realised this wasn't going to be your usual call. No one else had been able to attend, strange in itself because if you have ever met a police officer you would know that they never pass up the opportunity to chase a burglar.
Steve pulled up outside the Victorian two-storey terrace in a street lined with identical properties. All the other houses in the street had lights on, TVs blaring or other such evidence of occupancy. The burglar house was conspicuous in its silent foreboding manner, lights were off, no sounds projected from the windows, actually it felt like the house was sucking in light and sound.
The door was fully open, a cold dark hallway beckoned Steve. Steve told himself that the open door indicated that the burglar had flown the coop, its amazing what bullshit you can convince yourself to believe when the need arises. Before a step could be made towards the uninviting portal, a formality had to observed. "This is Car 24, ETA at the burglar call in Rose Street, need assistance as address appear insecure. Entering property to search for burglar." He hoped his voice didn't sound fearful or a choir boy, clicking off the radio he pulled out his trusty torch and his baton, well you never know, the owners might own a vicious man-eating cat.
Steve entered the door as the wind blew in behind him, he didn't remember it being so cold tonight and thought may be he could go back to the car, get his jumper, check if he turned off the lights, get a cup of coffee or lock himself in the boot of his car and cry like a 5 year old girl.
Crossing the threshold was like entering another world, dark shadows played up and down the corridor as Steve's torch tried to root out the source of his unease.
The hallway walls held numerous creepy family photos, actually in the dark they looked like Dr Frankenstein had married the wolf man and had several illegitimate children.
The front room was first to be searched, cautiously entering the room, Steve slowly swept the walls with light and yelped as he realised that there might be somebody sitting in the lone armchair in front of the TV. The scramble for the room light proved fruitless as the light failed to materialise when the switch was hit ferociously. Suddenly remembering that he still had his torch, he swung it round like he was trying to decapitate Darth Vader with a lightsaber. The man-eating cat perched on the top of the armchair got the shock of its life, then realised it didn't care and went back to sleep. Steve's heart rate came back to normal just before he realised the suspect now standing in front of him was actual his reflection in a large fireplace mirror. The room, having been fully recce'd was reluctantly left as Steve re-entered the hallway again.
The back room was the next destination when he heard a light, quiet scuffing noise upstairs. Now he knew it could be the wind blowing a dressing gown hung on a door or wall but you can't question thousands of years of evolution.
When you here something that may potentially be a danger, your body tenses up, ready to attack or to flee. Police officers have to repress all these responses, firstly because they don't have the option to flee, especially if you don't want to making the tea and answering to girl names as your colleagues reward your flight skills. Secondly, if a police officer attacks the next thing that appears it may end up being a 90 year old sleepy resident and this causes a lot of paperwork. Steve spoke to his legs trying to convince them that movement would be preferable to taking root, some might say a little too loudly, especially as a potential burglar was upstairs.
Now everybody knows that as soon as you make a conscious decision to be quiet and stealthy, you will be anything but. Add into the factor that most police officers are not ballerinas and wearing thick boots that only a soldier could appreciate. It would be fair to say that Steve tried to creep up the stairs but that he was probably heard in the adjoining street.
The upstairs hallway was even less inviting as downstairs, all doors were locked except one. Upon realising that he hadn't lost the power of speech, Steve stated in what was hopefully a strong, commanding voice "Police, come out of the room as slowly as you can with your hands behind your head". A good five minute wait didn't result in the suspect handing himself in and to Steve this was worse because it meant he was going in.
Anticipation and fear caused his mouth to dry like sand paper. Steps became shorter as he closed on the partly opened front bedroom door. With torch in hand the bedroom was given several sweeps of light but with no avail. Under the bed was checked by kicking it and then thrusting the torch under, baton in hand, nothing. Steve released a breath which he didn't realise he was holding, turning towards the door a shadow disconnected itself from a wall, a presence suddenly behind him and then a long exhaled breath, which was not Steve's.
The Detective Inspector didn't like being called out to crime scene's, it was 4am in the morning and he had Detective's for this. The call he received whilst he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes will always be the most harrowing he will receive. The Inspector walked under the police tape, following his ashen faced Detective, past the weeping female police officer slumped against a police vehicle, sobs escaping uncontrollably from her lips. The house was lit by portable lamps, powerful and unrelenting. The scenes of crime officers had already processed the hallway and were working methodically from room to room. "Guv, the officers who turned up later couldn't get the lights to work, even tried the fuse box but the problem was that somebody had meticulously removed every light bulb in the building and placed them on the dining room table." A Detective pointed to the Inspector the lined up bulbs, large to small, left to right and straight as a die. The Detective showed the Inspector upstairs, who noticed that numerous photo's of pretty children and there adoring parent lined the walls. The Detective continued to tell him such useful information as there was no sign's of a break in, neighbour's never heard anything and knew the residents were in the south of France for a holiday, left yesterday.
The Detective showed the room to the Inspector, the arterial spray patterns, the pools of blood, where the organs were possible placed before being taken away and then the body.
The Inspector looked into Constable Steve Reddings dead eyes and suddenly realised that they had a serial killer, one who was hunting the hunters.
"Why the fuck do I get myself into these kind of situations" Steve came to the unfortunate realisation that he was talking to himself. He always thought that single-manned patrols were a bad idea but it took a 3am call to an alleged burglar on scene to plainly highlight that he was all alone and vulnerable.
When he arrived on scene he realised this wasn't going to be your usual call. No one else had been able to attend, strange in itself because if you have ever met a police officer you would know that they never pass up the opportunity to chase a burglar.
Steve pulled up outside the Victorian two-storey terrace in a street lined with identical properties. All the other houses in the street had lights on, TVs blaring or other such evidence of occupancy. The burglar house was conspicuous in its silent foreboding manner, lights were off, no sounds projected from the windows, actually it felt like the house was sucking in light and sound.
The door was fully open, a cold dark hallway beckoned Steve. Steve told himself that the open door indicated that the burglar had flown the coop, its amazing what bullshit you can convince yourself to believe when the need arises. Before a step could be made towards the uninviting portal, a formality had to observed. "This is Car 24, ETA at the burglar call in Rose Street, need assistance as address appear insecure. Entering property to search for burglar." He hoped his voice didn't sound fearful or a choir boy, clicking off the radio he pulled out his trusty torch and his baton, well you never know, the owners might own a vicious man-eating cat.
Steve entered the door as the wind blew in behind him, he didn't remember it being so cold tonight and thought may be he could go back to the car, get his jumper, check if he turned off the lights, get a cup of coffee or lock himself in the boot of his car and cry like a 5 year old girl.
Crossing the threshold was like entering another world, dark shadows played up and down the corridor as Steve's torch tried to root out the source of his unease.
The hallway walls held numerous creepy family photos, actually in the dark they looked like Dr Frankenstein had married the wolf man and had several illegitimate children.
The front room was first to be searched, cautiously entering the room, Steve slowly swept the walls with light and yelped as he realised that there might be somebody sitting in the lone armchair in front of the TV. The scramble for the room light proved fruitless as the light failed to materialise when the switch was hit ferociously. Suddenly remembering that he still had his torch, he swung it round like he was trying to decapitate Darth Vader with a lightsaber. The man-eating cat perched on the top of the armchair got the shock of its life, then realised it didn't care and went back to sleep. Steve's heart rate came back to normal just before he realised the suspect now standing in front of him was actual his reflection in a large fireplace mirror. The room, having been fully recce'd was reluctantly left as Steve re-entered the hallway again.
The back room was the next destination when he heard a light, quiet scuffing noise upstairs. Now he knew it could be the wind blowing a dressing gown hung on a door or wall but you can't question thousands of years of evolution.
When you here something that may potentially be a danger, your body tenses up, ready to attack or to flee. Police officers have to repress all these responses, firstly because they don't have the option to flee, especially if you don't want to making the tea and answering to girl names as your colleagues reward your flight skills. Secondly, if a police officer attacks the next thing that appears it may end up being a 90 year old sleepy resident and this causes a lot of paperwork. Steve spoke to his legs trying to convince them that movement would be preferable to taking root, some might say a little too loudly, especially as a potential burglar was upstairs.
Now everybody knows that as soon as you make a conscious decision to be quiet and stealthy, you will be anything but. Add into the factor that most police officers are not ballerinas and wearing thick boots that only a soldier could appreciate. It would be fair to say that Steve tried to creep up the stairs but that he was probably heard in the adjoining street.
The upstairs hallway was even less inviting as downstairs, all doors were locked except one. Upon realising that he hadn't lost the power of speech, Steve stated in what was hopefully a strong, commanding voice "Police, come out of the room as slowly as you can with your hands behind your head". A good five minute wait didn't result in the suspect handing himself in and to Steve this was worse because it meant he was going in.
Anticipation and fear caused his mouth to dry like sand paper. Steps became shorter as he closed on the partly opened front bedroom door. With torch in hand the bedroom was given several sweeps of light but with no avail. Under the bed was checked by kicking it and then thrusting the torch under, baton in hand, nothing. Steve released a breath which he didn't realise he was holding, turning towards the door a shadow disconnected itself from a wall, a presence suddenly behind him and then a long exhaled breath, which was not Steve's.
The Detective Inspector didn't like being called out to crime scene's, it was 4am in the morning and he had Detective's for this. The call he received whilst he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes will always be the most harrowing he will receive. The Inspector walked under the police tape, following his ashen faced Detective, past the weeping female police officer slumped against a police vehicle, sobs escaping uncontrollably from her lips. The house was lit by portable lamps, powerful and unrelenting. The scenes of crime officers had already processed the hallway and were working methodically from room to room. "Guv, the officers who turned up later couldn't get the lights to work, even tried the fuse box but the problem was that somebody had meticulously removed every light bulb in the building and placed them on the dining room table." A Detective pointed to the Inspector the lined up bulbs, large to small, left to right and straight as a die. The Detective showed the Inspector upstairs, who noticed that numerous photo's of pretty children and there adoring parent lined the walls. The Detective continued to tell him such useful information as there was no sign's of a break in, neighbour's never heard anything and knew the residents were in the south of France for a holiday, left yesterday.
The Detective showed the room to the Inspector, the arterial spray patterns, the pools of blood, where the organs were possible placed before being taken away and then the body.
The Inspector looked into Constable Steve Reddings dead eyes and suddenly realised that they had a serial killer, one who was hunting the hunters.
Here we are at the beginning of something beautiful and ultimately very daunting. I will start by doing short stories, some will be random in form/style and ideas, whilst others will become serials. I ask that you be honest but non-offensive. I am looking for constructive criticism, anything to help me improve something that I enjoy.
Well, I can't put it off any longer.
Here goes nothing.......actually I might go get myself a drink of water....not delaying...honest.
Well, I can't put it off any longer.
Here goes nothing.......actually I might go get myself a drink of water....not delaying...honest.
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