...which is about 20000m long. But still, a 10,000 and a 5,000 is some sort of milestone. Sadly, it can also be a millstone, because it means not just the production of an ordinary x000th post story (which can, as last time, appear as part of a writing challenge), but something a little longer and more serious.
As inspiration was lacking -- and I need to tidy up the previous Dragooned entries before I move forward on that -- I've resorted to going back to something I wrote quite a while ago and that was in need of a rewrite. I believe progress has been made on that front, mainly because the original was quite poor, in terms of how it was written. I'm sure more progress is possible, so I think I'd better throw its 1030 words open to the rest of you.
Note that one of the characters, Louis, is (under a different name) a refugee from WiP1. The other (who has taken Louis's ship and delivered him to a strange world, where Louis was at first welcomed, then thrown into a cell and roughed up a bit) has always kept herself hidden and seems immune to answering questions that she doesn't like. (Oh, and ulas is a material of immense strength.)
Down and Out
A familiar stench pervaded the cell. She can’t be here. But this couldn’t be a dream, not when his ears were in such pain.
“Are you awake?”
Louis opened his eyes to total darkness; even the emergency lighting was switched off. “What—?” He winced.
“Swallow!”
Though his mouth was dry, his attempts finally did the trick. Something scraped on the floor to his right. “Where are you?”
“Here to help.” The words, barely whispered, were clearly in Pericol’s voice and came from his left. Had she moved, or— “We have very little time. Get down on all fours. You will have to find the exit by touch.”
Resisting the urge to say that he knew exactly where the cell door was, Louis rolled quietly off the bed. “Why not simply turn on the lights?”
“I was unable to disable the security cameras.”
What cameras? More likely, she still wanted to remain unseen. On the other hand, even the doziest of guards would eventually notice that the cell’s lights were out, so there was little point in wasting time arguing.
He groped his way towards the door. A metre or so short, by his estimation, his fingertips brushed against a narrow and curving band, its rough surface much warmer than the floor’s cold stone. Beyond was… nothing. “Is this what I’m looking for?”
“Why have you stopped?” Pericol spoke from somewhere below him. “Do you wish to stay here?”
“I’d rather not plunge down headfirst, thank you. How far is it to the floor below?”
“Hurry.” A typical non-answer.
Louis lowered himself into the round hole until, hanging by his sweating hands, his feet had to be no more than a metre or two above the floor of the room below. His grip failed. After a few moments, during which his body was buffeted by strong air currents – from where? – his fall was broken by thin leafy branches. Somewhere above, the darkness was interrupted by a flash of bright light. He looked up, but saw nothing but stars. Where was the hole? Where was the cell floor?
“Welcome to Phase II,” said Pericol from somewhere ahead of him.
An owl hooted owl close by, making him flinch. This released a leafy branch, which slapped him in the face. The snap of a branch, and a fall of a metre or so, brought him to all-too-solid earth.
Louis took in his surroundings. Directly ahead was a line of trees, illuminated from behind him. The source of the light was a line of lamps, about ten metres from the ground, inset into a matt white surface; they ran into the distance in both directions. The surface belonged to a wall, whose top was shrouded in inky blackness. Along its base, about a metre higher than the ground, ran a dark grey platform that might serve as a road. He climbed up onto it and touched the wall. Its smooth, cold and unbroken surface showed no sign of its construction; more than likely it covered a single sheet of ulas.
His gaze returned to the forest, whose edge seemed as precise as that of the wall, leaving a stretch of open ground of constant width, dotted with bushes, between the trees and the road. His cell had to be somewhere inside the wall. Perhaps those fierce air currents had pushed him clear. At least there might be a simple answer to this mystery. The gods only knew how a hole had appeared in a cell floor made of a single block of stone pierced only by the narrowest of drains.
“What are you doing?” Pericol spoke from the direction of the forest, and was probably lurking behind one of the bushes. “We are not safe here.”
Thoroughly confused, Louis followed the sound of her voice, which seemed to recede as he walked.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“It’s a bit cold—”
“—sorry, but I have no extra clothing for you—”
“—and I’m completely in the dark. As usual.”
Pericol said nothing.
“So what now?” he asked. “Where’s the shuttle?”
“What do you mean?” She was maintaining her distance, all the while concealing herself within the trees.
“The craft that will take us back to the ship.”
“There is no such vehicle.” So Pericol had entered the cell by the door.
“Then how are we going to escape?”
“We will think of something. I had to free you from the cell before your interrogation began. The people here are not noted for their finesse. You would have been in great danger. And, more importantly, so would the Confederation.”
Louis stopped for a second. The undergrowth had thinned out but away from the wall, and so in increasing gloom, keeping his footing was proving difficult. ‘Why would you care about the Confederation? You’ve spent your career spying on it. And undermining it.”
“Be pleased I take an interest in the development of the Confederation. It is the sole reason I helped you escape.”
“You’ll have to explain.” Not that she would. “Either way, I’m trapped here on this planet. And from what I’ve already been told, the authorities won’t have any difficulty finding out where I am.”
“I am sure they wanted to give you that impression,” said Pericol. “They will have told you how well things were going here before they started to suspect you were not who they thought you were. I think you will find it relatively easy to disappear. The very nature of Phase II makes it hard for them to search openly for you. They must use surrogates. The local police do not expect to have to find new people, for very good reasons. They depend on cradle-to-grave record keeping. To catch you, they will have to be a bit more inventive than usual. They will need initiative. This is not something I usually associate with the Amratian police.”
“What have the shortcomings of the Amratian police got to do with anything? This is Phase II.”
She moved further into the trees. “We ought to get going. We have a long way to travel before we reach somewhere where you can clean yourself up and obtain more appropriate clothing.”
As inspiration was lacking -- and I need to tidy up the previous Dragooned entries before I move forward on that -- I've resorted to going back to something I wrote quite a while ago and that was in need of a rewrite. I believe progress has been made on that front, mainly because the original was quite poor, in terms of how it was written. I'm sure more progress is possible, so I think I'd better throw its 1030 words open to the rest of you.
Note that one of the characters, Louis, is (under a different name) a refugee from WiP1. The other (who has taken Louis's ship and delivered him to a strange world, where Louis was at first welcomed, then thrown into a cell and roughed up a bit) has always kept herself hidden and seems immune to answering questions that she doesn't like. (Oh, and ulas is a material of immense strength.)
Down and Out
A familiar stench pervaded the cell. She can’t be here. But this couldn’t be a dream, not when his ears were in such pain.
“Are you awake?”
Louis opened his eyes to total darkness; even the emergency lighting was switched off. “What—?” He winced.
“Swallow!”
Though his mouth was dry, his attempts finally did the trick. Something scraped on the floor to his right. “Where are you?”
“Here to help.” The words, barely whispered, were clearly in Pericol’s voice and came from his left. Had she moved, or— “We have very little time. Get down on all fours. You will have to find the exit by touch.”
Resisting the urge to say that he knew exactly where the cell door was, Louis rolled quietly off the bed. “Why not simply turn on the lights?”
“I was unable to disable the security cameras.”
What cameras? More likely, she still wanted to remain unseen. On the other hand, even the doziest of guards would eventually notice that the cell’s lights were out, so there was little point in wasting time arguing.
He groped his way towards the door. A metre or so short, by his estimation, his fingertips brushed against a narrow and curving band, its rough surface much warmer than the floor’s cold stone. Beyond was… nothing. “Is this what I’m looking for?”
“Why have you stopped?” Pericol spoke from somewhere below him. “Do you wish to stay here?”
“I’d rather not plunge down headfirst, thank you. How far is it to the floor below?”
“Hurry.” A typical non-answer.
Louis lowered himself into the round hole until, hanging by his sweating hands, his feet had to be no more than a metre or two above the floor of the room below. His grip failed. After a few moments, during which his body was buffeted by strong air currents – from where? – his fall was broken by thin leafy branches. Somewhere above, the darkness was interrupted by a flash of bright light. He looked up, but saw nothing but stars. Where was the hole? Where was the cell floor?
“Welcome to Phase II,” said Pericol from somewhere ahead of him.
An owl hooted owl close by, making him flinch. This released a leafy branch, which slapped him in the face. The snap of a branch, and a fall of a metre or so, brought him to all-too-solid earth.
Louis took in his surroundings. Directly ahead was a line of trees, illuminated from behind him. The source of the light was a line of lamps, about ten metres from the ground, inset into a matt white surface; they ran into the distance in both directions. The surface belonged to a wall, whose top was shrouded in inky blackness. Along its base, about a metre higher than the ground, ran a dark grey platform that might serve as a road. He climbed up onto it and touched the wall. Its smooth, cold and unbroken surface showed no sign of its construction; more than likely it covered a single sheet of ulas.
His gaze returned to the forest, whose edge seemed as precise as that of the wall, leaving a stretch of open ground of constant width, dotted with bushes, between the trees and the road. His cell had to be somewhere inside the wall. Perhaps those fierce air currents had pushed him clear. At least there might be a simple answer to this mystery. The gods only knew how a hole had appeared in a cell floor made of a single block of stone pierced only by the narrowest of drains.
“What are you doing?” Pericol spoke from the direction of the forest, and was probably lurking behind one of the bushes. “We are not safe here.”
Thoroughly confused, Louis followed the sound of her voice, which seemed to recede as he walked.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.
“It’s a bit cold—”
“—sorry, but I have no extra clothing for you—”
“—and I’m completely in the dark. As usual.”
Pericol said nothing.
“So what now?” he asked. “Where’s the shuttle?”
“What do you mean?” She was maintaining her distance, all the while concealing herself within the trees.
“The craft that will take us back to the ship.”
“There is no such vehicle.” So Pericol had entered the cell by the door.
“Then how are we going to escape?”
“We will think of something. I had to free you from the cell before your interrogation began. The people here are not noted for their finesse. You would have been in great danger. And, more importantly, so would the Confederation.”
Louis stopped for a second. The undergrowth had thinned out but away from the wall, and so in increasing gloom, keeping his footing was proving difficult. ‘Why would you care about the Confederation? You’ve spent your career spying on it. And undermining it.”
“Be pleased I take an interest in the development of the Confederation. It is the sole reason I helped you escape.”
“You’ll have to explain.” Not that she would. “Either way, I’m trapped here on this planet. And from what I’ve already been told, the authorities won’t have any difficulty finding out where I am.”
“I am sure they wanted to give you that impression,” said Pericol. “They will have told you how well things were going here before they started to suspect you were not who they thought you were. I think you will find it relatively easy to disappear. The very nature of Phase II makes it hard for them to search openly for you. They must use surrogates. The local police do not expect to have to find new people, for very good reasons. They depend on cradle-to-grave record keeping. To catch you, they will have to be a bit more inventive than usual. They will need initiative. This is not something I usually associate with the Amratian police.”
“What have the shortcomings of the Amratian police got to do with anything? This is Phase II.”
She moved further into the trees. “We ought to get going. We have a long way to travel before we reach somewhere where you can clean yourself up and obtain more appropriate clothing.”
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