edited 22nd May '16 9:12:47 PM by ClownToy
New account is voidify
edited 22nd May '16 9:12:02 PM by SmartGirl333
edited 22nd May '16 9:13:03 PM by ClownToy
New account is voidify
Move along, nothing to see here. Respond to the original post's prompt.
edited 22nd May '16 9:11:51 PM by SmartGirl333
"I don't know how to explain this any simpler", she said while rubbing her forehead in frustration. "It's just space travel".
Janet shoved all the helpful charts and diagrams to the ground. There was simply no working with primitives.
"Just try to accept it," she said. "If you can just accept it, I can assure you that you will not go mad."
The primitive blinked its wide grey eyes in a manner that she chose to take as impetuosity. "I'm sorry," it said, "but I can't. Maybe you people can just gloss over the details of the work, but where I'm from, we like to know how a boat works before we get on it."
"Yes," said Janet. "And tell me again what you do for a living?"
The primitive drew itself up to its full height of 142 centimeters. "I'm Our Leader's delegate of language and the arts."
"Exactly," said Janet.
"That's not very fair," said the primitive.
"Oh it isn't, is it? I'll have you know my people had to find space travel out on their own. None of this 'benevolent conquest' blather the council's been passing off on us back then. Are you coming or not?"
The primitive shifted its many delicate legs underneath its ceremonial robe. "Very well," it said. It traipsed up the ramp into the Embassy. Janet blew air through her lips.
"Lieutenant Freidan," she called to the woman across the launch area.
Freidan ran over and stood at attention."Yes, Captain Hartson, sir!"
"At ease, Lieutenant. That was the last of them, wasn't it?"
"The language delegate? I think so," said Freidan. "It should be, unless any ran and hid."
"I wouldn't put it past them," Janet sniffed. "Lousy little buggers, the lot of them. Imagine, a whole society of obsequious bureaucrats! It's a miracle they got anything done."
"Well, we have only seen their capital city," Freidan said.
"True," Janet conceded. "In any case, it's time we're off."
"Sir," Freidan said, "what do you suppose the council does with them?"
"Does with what?"
"Societal samples," Freidan said. She blushed under Janet's cold stare.
"Whatever they do with the samples is really none of our business, is it, Lieutenant?"
"I suppose not, sir," said Freidan.
"If that's all—"
"It is, sir."
"If that's all," said Janet, "you'd better get to the helm."
"Yes, sir!"
Janet followed her up, first looking back at the planet. Ugly, barren little place, really. At least, that's how the capital city looked.
The last of the primitives were being fitted with a translator chip. A few of them were rather afraid, but that's their own business. Their leader agreed to send them. It was their own fault if they were going to be spineless about it. Of course, they didn't seem to have any spines to begin with.
Janet was looking through the manifest when someone tapped at the door to the office.
"Yes?"
It was the Chancellor. He grinned at her. "Hello, Captain Hartson."
She did not return the greeting. "What is it?"
He shut the door behind him. "I suppose you're wondering why they've got a high official like me on a routine societal sample mission."
"The question never crossed my mind," said Captain Hartson. "So, what is it?"
"What I'm getting at," said the Chancellor, "is that I'd like you to be in on the joke."
"Why?"
"I like you," said the Chancellor.
"It's an honor, I'm sure," said Janet. "What is this great joke, then?"
"Haven't you ever wondered what societal samples are for?"
"You seem to be under the impression that I spend a lot of my spare time wondering about the council's business," said Janet.
"It's a very intricate plan," the Chancellor continued, ignoring her. "They're trying to find the weaknesses."
"Weaknesses? Come off it. Most of the primitives have barely developed radio."
"Not weaknesses of their civilizations, weaknesses of their biology," said the Chancellor. "Weaknesses of the flesh, not the mind. If you will. They're building an encyclopedia, of sorts—an encyclopedia of subjugation. You are building an empire on fear."
Janet stared at him for a moment. "You mean to say," she said, "that all these primitives are going to die?"
"If you're going to be painfully immediate about it, then yes," said the Chancellor.
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because," said the Chancellor, "I like you. And I very much dislike the council."
Janet shut the manifest. "What is it that you expect me to do?"
"My dear Captain," said the Chancellor, "it's your ship."
He turned and left.
Janet thought a moment.
Then she said, "Damn straight."
She called Lieutenant Freidan, Commander Chang, and Commander Yi to the hub. They were all very young, and stood nervously by the decorative fountain.
"We're going to defect," she said.
The three exchanged glances.
"Sir," said Chang, "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Yes, you do," said Janet. "You understand me perfectly well. You three have many friends, you can do it. Overthrow this ship. Take it into the Eastern territories. We'll find haven there until we can make our next move."
"But—but why?" Freidan stammered.
Janet told them what the Chancellor had said. Freidan's eyes widened.
"I never knew!" she said.
"I don't suppose we were intended to know, Lieutenant," said Chang.
"You weren't," said Janet. "And neither was I."
"We have to do it," said Freidan. "We're supposed to be helping other species, aren't we? Even if they are primitives, they shouldn't have to die."
They set in place a plan that would spread from person to person, until the whole crew had orders that seemed to come from everywhere to correct the course to the Eastern territories. The primitives, of course, knew nothing of any of this. They sat in their quarters, staring dreamily at the stars, often murmuring, "Is that so!" for it was beautiful.
Janet had never wanted to lead her crew into enemy territory, and leave them at the mercy of the Easterners. No captain did, of course. No captain could even imagine doing it. It was simply too horrible to imagine going against the Western territories. It was their home. It held within it Earth, that distant city world. And Sol.
Here, there were only the cold, ghost ships that passed them without a hail. Radio silence filled her office. She sipped a glass of whiskey.
The primitive beside her kept blinking. She had determined by now that the blinking wasn't impetuous, rather, it was a sort of nervous tic. Its eyelids made a clicking sound that filled the empty office.
"Could you stop that?" she asked.
It blinked. "What?"
"That blinking sound," said Janet. She pressed at her temples. "It's very irritating."
"I'm sorry," it said. It tried not to blink, staring hard at the floor. Its eyes began to water.
"Now then," said Janet. "You were going to ask for something?"
"Well, sir," said the primitive. "A few of us—that is, That-Which-Wanders-the-Thorny-Forest, That-Which-Thinks-in-Prose, That-Which-Heals-the-Broken-Sky, That-Which—"
"I don't particularly care who," Janet interrupted.
"Right then," the primitive blinked a few times. "What I mean to say is that a few of us having been thinking of That-World-Which-Has-Many-Deserts-and-Seas-and-Fruit-Bearing-Bushes-and—"
"Yes, yes, your planet," said Janet.
"W-well, sir, we've been thinking, we could take a pod and steer it home, if you showed us how," the primitive finished.
Janet felt a bit bad for it. Although the primitives were not particularly bright—or she chose to interpret them that way—they had a certain poetic loneliness. They spent much of their time telling stories in their roundabout way, or fabricating little social rules that they'd all follow for a while before forgetting them entirely. It was really a miracle they'd come up with any cohesive plan at all.
"I'm sorry, but it's just too dangerous in the Western territories," said Janet. "You'd be taken by the council."
The primitive wilted. "I see. Thank you for your time, sir, it's really be very nice to meet you, in fact, just the other day, That-Which-Walks-in-Flowering-Grasses was telling me, That-Which-Helps-the-Undrok-Fly, you'll never talk to the Captain, not in a million years, and I said, That-Which—"
"Yes, yes," Janet said, showing it out. "Please do come again if you have anything to discuss."
Shutting the door, she muttered, "Anything at all."
The Chancellor was standing behind her. He had been watching the conversation with an expression of polite amusement.
"The crew's getting wanderlust," said Janet. "I can't keep them here."
"Where are you going to go?" he asked. "Anywhere beyond the graveyard, you'll meet with Easterners—and they will kill you, don't you think?"
"I know that," said Janet. "But they can't stay here. They're space travelers. They're not meant to stay anywhere."
"You keep the radio on all the time, now."
"Oh, do I? I wonder why? Maybe it's because I'm going slowly insane out here, surrounded by dead ships," said Janet. "Or maybe I'm just trying to get help. Take your pick."
"I have, thank you," he said. "By the way, try tuning it to 70019.0093.3938. I did, and it helped immensely."
She glared at him and adjusted the radio. Suddenly, a patriotic hymn reverberated through the office. It was in an Eastern dialect, sharp and pretty in spite of the static.
Janet laughed. "Oh my God," she said. "Oh my God, we've found them. She threw open the door and shouted down the hall, "Commander Patrick, get up here!"
Patrick ran out of his office and into hers. He was a small, pale, intellectual sort of fellow, and his face brightened when he heard the music.
"You've done it!" he exclaimed.
"Can you get them?" she asked.
"Sure!"
He examined the ships radio, and sent a general distress signal to the source of the song.
Janet took the Chancellor aside. "How did you know about that signal?"
"I found it," he said. "Going through all of them. It only takes a formula—going one by one. You see, it's simple."
"That would take years," Janet said.
"Oh no, not for me," said the Chancellor.
Janet asked, "What are you?"
"That, my dear, you'll never know."
The Easterners were human.
That had come as a shock. They were human—in fact, they were the same races of human as Westerners. No one could remember why they had thought Easterners would look different. In spite of looking the same, however, Easterners didn't act like any humans the crew of the Embassy knew.
They took a great liking to the primitives, mimicking their odd, poetic speech.
"Perhaps," Janet heard Freidan say to Yi one day, "Perhaps the Easterners are more like primitives than they are like us."
"Oh, I don't know," Yi had said, scratching the back of her neck. "People are people, aren't they?" Freidan had looked at her oddly.
The leader of the Eastern ship was a man named Durst. He had a habit of saying, "That's good, that's very good," to everything anyone did, and Janet didn't know whether she liked that or not.
"So you say, that's how, this Chancellor took you to see us?" Durst asked her, one day, as they sat in her office.
"Yes, he found the signal you used. We had tried everything—he might be a bit of an arse, but he's alright," she said.
Durst laughed. "That's good, that's very good! So, you say, may I see this Chancellor?"
Janet blinked. "See him? I don't know why not."
For some reason, though, it felt odd to her.
"I suppose he must be around here, somewhere," she said.
She peered out the door, and called to him. Then, feeling a bit foolish, she looked in the closet.
"I really don't know," she admitted. "He's very odd. Sometimes I wonder if he might not be human."
"Not human? Like what you call primitive?"
"No, hardly that. Maybe a—" she swallowed, and whispered, "—superior."
"A what?"
"In the Western territories, they say there are some species that are not inferior to humanity. Very few, of course, but there are some nonetheless," she explained.
"Odd way of looking at it," said Durst. "But I suppose, this is your way?"
"Yeah," Janet felt a bit uncomfortable that she could not find the Chancellor. "I suppose you've got to be getting back?"
"Yes, I will be leading you to Eneron in a day's time. You have done well, to save these people, and your crew. We are in admiration," said Durst. "That's good, that's very good."
"Thank you," said Janet.
After he left, the Chancellor came in.
"Janet," he said, looking almost sad, although he didn't usually seem to have any emotions at all. "I'm going to leave soon."
"What? Where?" Janet asked, looking up. "Why didn't you come before?"
"It's been nice, with you," said the Chancellor. "I'm glad you saved those little beasts. I'm glad you left that place. I hope—I hope someday, you are happy. That's what people want for each other, isn't that right? I'm not sure."
"What do you mean?" Janet asked. "If you want to leave, that's fine, I really don't care. But what's with the dramatic exit?"
"Janet, I don't live here," said the Chancellor. "I'm in your head."
"What?"
"You're not mad, of course," he said quickly. "I just lived there. In your head. For a while."
"Oh," said Janet. "Then you are—"
"I'm not superior," said the Chancellor. "I'm just a person, Janet. I just lived here. In this place. For a while. And now I'm going. You did alright, I guess. Really, I don't know. I hope I get into someone else's head, someone with a lover, I'm rather fond of being in love."
"Right then," she said. "Thanks for the help, I suppose. I never really liked you, though now that I think of it, I can't really remember why."
"I'm an arse," said the Chancellor. "So you said."
"Ah, that was it."
"Goodbye, Janet."
"Goodbye," said Janet. "You bitter old bugger, you."
And that was that. A rather odd end to an odd friendship, but Janet did not think much of it. She'd lived most of her life in space. Every day was a bit strange in its own way.
She preferred it, like that.
She looked out the window, at the stars. The galaxy seemed to go on forever.
To herself, she murmured, "Is that so!"
The lights turned off as an arbitrary night settled over the space travelers.
That was freaking long. Whew!!
Prompt: There were seven dogs at the crest of Baldwin Hill.
edited 23rd May '16 6:52:59 PM by spacealien
A prompt is posted (it can be a tagline, first sentence, summary, etc.), the next poster writes a short story based on that prompt and provides another prompt, and so on. I started this topic because I don't really know how to write original fiction without a prompt and others probably feel the same, so if people post prompts for others who write and then provide prompts to write and so on, it'll be an infinite loop of getting better at writing.
First up:
"I don't know how to explain this any simpler", she said while rubbing her forehead in frustration. "It's just space travel".