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Angelus's Journal


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5 entries this month
 

The Incredible Adventures Of Sylvester Merridew ~ Tempus Fugit, Or Not Chapter Three

01:44 Feb 20 2012
Times Read: 799


Chapter Three ~ Take a left at Albuquerque





The next morning Tabbi decided to have a long bath, so padded round the front room wearing a towel, prior to making them each a cup of tea and then, turning the water-heater on.



“And, what are you doing today?” She asked Sylvester, still immersed in the midst of his bedclothes, having slept particularly badly, having too much on his mind.



Fisting sleep from his eyes, Sylvester looked up at his young companion and grinned, “I’m going to town…”



“Really?” Tabbi knew that as it was Sunday town would be empty and, the shops shut: the question was, ‘should she tell him?’ She decided not to.



“Yes, really…” He assured Tabbi, sipping at his tea.



“Well, you know to take the left at the lights, don’t you?” She asked, taking her place on her favourite armchair, legs crossed, the towel exposing more than it covered, ‘but it did cover the essentials’ Sylvester thought wryly, grateful that it did.



“I remember how to get to town, on my own,” he told Tabbi, sounding decidedly petulant, she thought.



“Okay then, I’ll leave you to it,” Tabbi announced with a grin, as she leaned over the back of the old-battered sofa, to kiss Sylvester on his forehead.



And, he watched her pull the towel tighter round herself, then leave the room, with a distinct movement to her derriere, he hadn’t recalled seeing before.



“Oh-boy,” Sylvester muttered, “I needed a cold bath, or a long walk…” And, for a moment he grinned; “And she has occupied the bathroom, so it’s definitely the walk then…” He smiled at the memory of Tabbi leaving the room, then dressed.



‘Yes,” he mused, shutting the front door a few minutes later, “A good long walk.”

There was no two ways about it, Sylvester did have a lot on his mind…



Yet, he got lost, finding himself distracted by almost anything an everything he saw in the twentieth Century: ‘After all,’ he thought, neck craning as he stood watching traffic-lights change to green, then red and, so on, “everything is so… very different.”



‘Grant you,’ he mused, ‘there was no time-travel.’ It seemed that the machine he’d bought from the garage-sale was a one-off; particularly in lieu of the fact that the prototype had been lost with its creator.



Yet, although they didn’t have time-travel, the people of Liverpool had planes and trains and, even cars, capable of seventy miles per hour. And it fascinated Sylvester.

So when the lights changed, he forgot a simple instruction, ‘turn left at the lights.’



Instead, he crossed at the lights and, finding himself distracted still, continued walking, down a Scotland Road.



As Sylvester walked down the road, his twinkling eyes of green blue gazing about, as his head kept turning. He walked on, passing a lot of overgrown waste-land and, deserted housing, with empty windows, scrawled with graffiti.



And, still Sylvester continued walking, still fairly certain he was going in the right direction, although every new experience gave him pause for thought.



Finally he decided to seek directions and, perhaps a pint, at a pub called the Black Lion, made of red brick, with white frames to the windows and the rest painted in Buckingham green, the door and, the windowsills. Sylvester liked the colour.



He walked through the door off the street and into the comforting ambience of the hostelry, all deep red carpeting, wood and brass.



Sylvester walked up to the bar, noting with a smile, the open fire, beneath an iron cowl, painted black, inset the far wall, the bricks festooned with photographs of the past glories of local fighters.



He ambled toward the bar and the smiling blonde behind it, “What can I get for you?” She asked Sylvester, his eyes riveted by her capacious bosom, barely restrained by the white blouse she wore.



“What beers do you have?” He asked curiously, having developed a taste for it, whilst out on the road, a decade previous, whilst touring with Hawkwind.



The blonde’s blue-eyes danced with merriment, as she ran her right hand over six hand-pumps, “We have some of the finest in the area…”



“Well, that being the case…” Syvester began, “you choose something for me. I like it strong and… full-bodied…”



And, as she appraised the fellow before her, the somewhat formal attire he wore vaguely amused the blonde: his maroon frock-coat, dress trousers and Italian-made ankle-boots. The white shirt was buttoned at the collar and his ochre cravat was taut.



All-in-all, the emaciated fellow with a shock of unruly hair, half white, half black, with twinkling eyes of green blue, looked every inch the image of a gentleman.



She imagined he was off to a funeral, or something.



“My name’s Mary-Anne, why don’t you try the IPA? Mister…?” She queried.



“It’s Sylvester,” he answered, rooting in his pocket to ensure he had enough money: “How much will this be?”



“Ninety pence…” Mary-Anne told him, noting him counting out his change, “Are you okay with that…?”



“Yes,” I told her, with a smile.



“Sylvester?” She began, as she pumped out his pint, “like that man playing Doctor Who on television?”



He knew who she was talking of, Sylvester McCoy; a small fellow with wild-looking eyes, who had been the phantom flan-flinger years earlier, on a show called Tiswas years earlier.



“I don’t watch it…” he told her, although he did. He liked the relationship portrayed between the Doctor’s assistants and him, seeing the Doctor as paternalistic, whilst his assistants were always younger and, seemed respectful.



It was most unlike the relationship that he had with Tabbi.



“Oh you should,” the blonde informed him, as she finished pouring a reasonable head to his beer, with a beaming smile, “Rumour has it that it won’t be on much longer…”



Sylvester found it awkward talking of something that touched him; so he asked: “Please tell me about the wasteland I passed as I walked here?”



“Ah…” She began, polishing a glass: “Well, as late as the seventies, this road had as many as four hundred pubs on it, some say. Now, maybe it wasn’t quite that many. Many it was, maybe it wasn’t. I just don’t know. But, when the clearances began, that was it…”



“So…” he drank of his beer, pleased to find it was to his taste, “why has no-one build up after they cleared away so much land?”



Mary-Anne laughed and, when she finally stopped, her cheeks were red.



“I’ll swear down Mister… I’ll never get used to the politics of this city…” She admitted, hands on her wide hips, which seemed wider still in her grey A-line skirt.



Sylvester grinned, “That’s the case in every time, of that I’m sure…”



Surveying the empty bar, Mary-Anne looked to Sylvester; “It bein Sunday, most are at home have their roast after Mass. Me? I’m here tending bar, till…”



She looked at her watch.



“Another hour or so to go… thank gawd, we’re not open all day, it’d drive me nuts on a day like this…” She paused, drew breath, then said, “Next one’s on me.”



“You sure?” Sylvester queried, eyeing her derriere, as she turned to pick up a dirty glass to wash.



“Yes, sure…” Mary-Anne told him, “the shops are shut and…”



“Huh?” Sylvester queried, surprise evident in his voice.



“It is Sunday,” Mary-Anne reminded him, pouring Sylvester his second pint, “the shops are shut and…”



“Oh…” He interjected, “I suppose it… just slipped my mind. That’s all…”



Sylvester felt humiliated: and, he fumed. ‘Why didn’t Tabbi tell me?’



He accepted the second pint and then, the third. He liked real ale.



When Sylvester eventually returned home he looked as drunk as he felt. Nevermind all that the two had seen and done during their time with Hawkwind, Tabbi had never seen Sylvester in such a state.



And, she watched, with amusement as the haggard looking man stumbled a little,



“Why won’t the room stop moving? Sylvester asked, sounding decidedly frustrated, as he negotiated his way passed an armchair, then veered right, toward the couch that he slept on.



“I was going to tell you that your dinners in the oven…” Tabbi responded with a smile.



Sylvester groaned, at the thought of food: and curled into a foetal ball, then groaned once again.


COMMENTS

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moonkissed
moonkissed
03:12 Feb 20 2012

I have some catching up to do! Be back in a bit. I just love Tabbi and Sylvester.





 

The Incredible Adventures Of Sylvester Merridew ~ Tempus Fugit, Or Not - Chapter Two

23:16 Feb 18 2012
Times Read: 803


Chapter Two ~ That darn sock





That evening Sylvester was quiet, too quiet for Tabbi: ‘He was a creature of habit,’ she thought, ‘Come the evening he either reads awhile, or writes in his journal, before watching something trite on television.’ Not this night though.



This night he had chosen to darn the sock that’d annoyed him for days. He lay back facing the t.v.; his left leg extended over the arm, the right crossed over it; as he worked away studiously.



It was apparent that Sylvester had a lot on his mind, as he sat darning a sock, the t.v. no more than background for him.



His idea had been simple; wear the sock inside out; then with the hole apparent, stitch through with wool as needed, as needed. That’d been the idea…



Yet, as Tabbi sat in her armchair, knees drawn up to her breasts, sipping at her mug of tea, she watched with amusement as Sylvester quietly cursed yet again.



“The needle goes through the sock, not through your flesh,” she admonished lightly, and then giggled.



In response, Sylvester turned his head glowering; “You want me to fail, don’t you?”



Tabbi was surprised by this retort and said no more for quite awhile, feeling suitably abashed.



Tabbi’s eyebrow’s raised. In all their time together Sylvester had not snapped, even when Dave Brock of Hawkwind had wanted to keep their time machine, she’d painted silver.



Finally she asked, “Is this about darning a sock Sylvester, or something else?”



Sylvester looked to the needle, he’d just stuck into his flesh yet again.



“Do you want a cup of tea?” She asked, to ease the sudden tension in the air.



Still looking at the tip of the needle Sylvester mumbled, “I…” then he cut off the rest and looked up to his young friend, ashamed that he had allowed his frustrations get the better of him: “Yes please,” he told her, “I’d like that.”


COMMENTS

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The Incredible Adventures Of Sylvester Merridew ~ Tempus Fugit, Or Not

23:43 Feb 14 2012
Times Read: 806


Chapter One ~ We’re All Doing Time





Time had passed, since the cellar door had opened onto the present day and, a hastily made cup of tea. Condensation was showing on the windows and, outside the closed curtains crispy brown leaves had fallen to the ground.



And, Sylvester’s lean frame lay beneath two extra blankets; although, the way in which he’d cocooned himself in the depth of blankets, it left his feet exposed, no matter how he chose to lie, on Tabbi’s battered old couch.



Awake, he opened his right eye enough to look to his feet and, his right big toe, sticking out from his sock.



“Yes still there…” He mumbled. It’d been so cold during the night Sylvester could swear down that his feet had dropped off with the cold.



“A hot cup of tea,” he muttered and rose, allowing the bedding to fall away from his overly thin body. Wearing a long-sleeve vest and long-johns and calf-length grey worsted socks Sylvester stood and stretched. Then he grasped the remote, to look for the time.



The white dot opened up the blackness and, moments later the teevee screen showed TV-AM, his early morning friend. The display at the bottom of the screen said seven ten and, Anne Diamond looked good.



Sylvester grinned, idly musing to himself: “If she were in a leotard and leggings, the show wouldn’t need a Mister Motivator.”



He tended to do a workout with the black man in gaudy colour, but not this morning.

This morning it was nippy and, while the kettle was on, he’d go for a pee. And if; and it was a big IF… If Tabbi showed her face, there’d be bacon butties, on fresh white thick bread.



They’d got the bacon the day prior, a short-while after Tabbi had got a counter payment from the dole, for the previous three months. “It’s all we’ll pay,” they’d said.



It seemed like their lives had returned to ‘normal’: well, as ‘normal’ as life could be for an Edwardian in the twentieth century and, his guardian in this time, a teen with a penchant for distinctly loud music, who lived with in a squat with three others, albeit, each of them had their own rooms.



The only thing they had to share was the washroom facilities. It even had an indoor toilet, something that was still a novelty to Sylvester. And, right now he needed that and, if he got there before nine, he’d get there before Tabbi, or her housemates he mused, as the kettle boiled.



As he put tea-bags in their mugs he heard a rattling to the pipes in the corner of the kitchen. When it ended he knew the bathroom would be free. And, he idly wondered who was up so early, other than him.



He needed that pee now and hoped the bathroom would be free soon; Sylvester also wanted a good wash before Tabbi this morning.

Pouring the water out, he turned the radio on. He liked the radio. That was something he’d miss, if he were to return to his own time, In fact, there were several things he’d miss. He’d certainly miss Debbie Harry, he thought; as she sung ‘The Tide Is High’ Sylvester thought, as he recalled a remark he’d made to Tabbi about going to see the woman… perform.



All that time they had been stuck in nineteen seventy-nine and, he’d still not seen her.

“Just not right…” He mumbled regretfully, suddenly realizing that the pipes had stopped rattling.



“Ah…” he sighed with a smile, as he poured the milk into the cups, “the washroom is free. Now to pee…”



He found his towel, the big one that Tabbi had given him, then made his way across the cluttered front-room to the door to the hallway and, the stairs leading up, to the bathroom and the main bedrooms.



Suddenly the door opened and in she bounded, headphones already on, red cassette-machine held in her left hand, all puppyfat and scant clothing.



“Morning Old Man,” Tabbi greeted him brightly, with a grin.



‘Not looking, I’m not looking…” He recited as if it were a new mantra.



She had worn as little as usual and, although he tried not to respond to this vision of teenage beauty he found it impossible, so repositioned his towel.



“You beat me to the bathroom, again… Any hot water left…?” Sylvester asked.



“Probably a little,” she muttered, with a smile.



For a moment Sylvester glanced at Tabbi. She looked as good as ever and, wore as little as usual, whether it be first thing in the morning, or late on, in the evening.



Tabbi had jiggled as she had come downstairs toward him; wearing a tea-shirt and brief panties, which covered her, just.



“There’s tea in the kitchen,” he told her, making his way passed her, making his way upstairs, “I’ll be a minute or two…”



Sylvester had wanted a good wash. But, he knew it wasn’t to be.



He did, as he needed, then made his way back downstairs, opening the door to the front room and, his bedroom.



“You were right Tabbi,” he opined with a smile, “there was little hot water.”



For all of a second Tabbi looked ashamed, yet she brightened quickly, “Thanks for the tea old-man. It was appreciated. Geez, my mouth was like the bottom of a parrots cage, this morning…”



They had sat drinking whiskey, skitting at the Miss World contestants until late-on in the evening, with blankets over them, as they’d snuggled down.



When she’d gone to bed, he had dragged the blankets over himself and been grateful that Tabbi turned the light off at the wall for him, on her way upstairs.



Now she was bent forward, looking amidst his bedding and, again he wanted not to look, yet had no choice as he entered the room, closing the door as he did so.



He placed his towel and soap-bag down on the armchair facing the armchair, then turned to face his young friend, staring down her top.



Again he heard the mantra in his head.



Then Tabbi stood, grinning.



“Found it!” She pronounced.



“Found what?” He asked, seeking his bed once more, as Tabbie entered the kitchen to find their tea, which she returned with, to find him back beneath the bedding, which he had dragged back over his emaciated frame.



She placed his tea on the floor next to the old-battered sofa, displaying her wares to his old rheumy eyes again.



Then she stood and turned, walking to the armchair and cast his towel and soap-bag to the floor, to sit cross-legged, the mug of tea cupped in both hands.



“You were lying on me cheque,” she told him with a grin, “an the posties only open till twelve, so I had to be up, didn’t I?



Tabbi had gone NFA when she had first left home, but now with a safe address, the dole had insisted she stopped being ‘No fixed abode’ anymore. It was a bind, yet she had little choice, but to accept what they wanted.



So here she was, up early on a Saturday, just like Sylvester and, yet again he had performed his ablutions, only to wash in cold water.



“So, you’re off out soon?” He asked, sipping at his own tea, thankful that he had it to concentrate on, she was so-pretty: ‘even at this time of the morning,’ he mused.



“Yeah well, I know the counter ain’t open till nine, but hey, at least I get to annoy you for a few hours,” she told him, grinning broadly.



‘Annoy me? Hardly…” Sylvester thought, as he tried not to watch Tabbi as she spoke and, decided to distract himself, by staring at the hole in his left sock; and the big toe poking through.



He’d got bored, in the last few days and, Tabbi had noticed.

“You got wanderlust eh old man?” She asked, teasing him.



“Don’t know what you mean…” he responded tersely, now glaring at his big toe, wondering if Tabbi would ever stop being mean to him.



“You have seemed restless for days now Sylvester. It’s like…” she looked for the right words, then found them, “You’re at a loss for something to do… face it Sylvester, you’re bored…”



He knew she was right, of course. She was. But, he was hardly going to tel her that now, was he? She’d never let him live it down: she did-so like to be right.



“Teel me Sylvester, do you have anything you want to do?” Or, perhaps want to go?”

She asked curiously.



“You know what I’d wanted to do…” He muttered, still staring at his toe.



“See Debbie Harry…. I know… but it never happened, did it?” She teased.



“It could…” he mumbled.



“Well,” she started saying as she rose, “if that’s still what… find out about her and, when was the best time to see her. I mean, she’s not exactly my thing Sylvester, but that’s what I’d do…”



“Research?” He suggested.



“Uh-huh,” She replied, moving round the room, mug of tea in her hands, so Sylvester closed his eyes, so as to hear her and, most assuredly not see her.



“Well where do you suggest I go to research her?” he asked, with a furrowed brow.



“Probe, Liverpool…” she answered.



And, Sylvester couldn’t understand why she wasn’t laughing: ‘Probe Liverpool?’

It didn’t make sense.



He scowled, then said, “Good grief Tabbi, how on earth would I do that?”



“You know Sylvester,” She began, hands on her bird-bone hips, “living with you is like living with Catweazle sometimes…” she finished, idly wondering if his petulance was down to them not having a servant or two, to attend to his every whim.



‘After all,’ she thought, ‘it would explain an awful lot…’



“Catweazle? What’s a Catweazle and, how’d you probe Liverpool?” He rattled off his questions quickly and, that’s how she answered.



“Catweazle was a TV show about a alchemist brought into the present day and as to probing Liverpool?” She paused a second and took a breath.

“Probe is a record shop in the city centre. They have some really knowledgeable staff there…. And, that’s where I’d go, if I were you…”



He laughed briefly, running long skeletal fingers through his touselled two-tone hair.

“So I’m going to Probe, Liverpool? Am I?”



Tutting, Tabbi returned to the armchair and she sat again with a sigh: “Yes Sylvester. You’re going to Probe, in Liverpool… where they sell records…”



‘Oh gawd,’ she sighed again, ‘he is so childish, sometimes…’



And, just for a second, Sylvester raised his eyes, to see Tabbi glaring at him. He just grinned, feeling for all of a second, quite proud that he’d got one over on the teen.


COMMENTS

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Alpha From The Ashes {{Complete & unabridged}}

01:33 Feb 07 2012
Times Read: 814


Alpha From The Ashes



Day One



Alpha rose from the ashes, literally. His series of genetic warrior had been superseded eon’s years ago. And, he should have died on his last mission. Yet, Alpha rose…



And slowly, the dust and debris of many decades of war was eased off his back.



His battle-suit now quite useless, the soldier stripped down to his sleeveless vest and boxers, both white.



It was hot and, Alpha was glad to be out of the piece of cumbersome kit.



Then, having donned his boots and belt, Alpha looked about. He noticed the stock of a pulse weapon protruding from the sand, so went to extricate the powerful hand-pistol.



Having slung the weapon over his right shoulder and, sliding his Bowie into his belt, Alpha looked up at the sun. Estimating that at the midpoint of its arc indicating midday, Alpha grinned mirthlessly: “It seems I’ll miss lunch…” He opined blithely.



It seemed that Alpha had forgotten the sound of a human voice, as he was so shocked, to hear his own.



For a moment Alpha looked back at the battle-zone he’d emerged from and, then he turned round to face a journey into the unknown.



“This should be interesting!?!” He exclaimed.



Walking slowly, dust rising with each footstep, Alpha looked to the far horizon.

And, he smiled.



He was alive; he had a fully charged pulse-weapon, on a strap slung over his shoulder; and, the Bowie knife in his belt.



“So maybe the stims are gone,” Alpha mused, “It doesn’t matter, not really. After all, I was bred to survive…”



And, so he had.



The last of his squad, Alpha was an individual now; ripped from the collective group intelligence that had been his squad.



He was an onlie now, as squad members would call those who didn’t know the joy of unity that group communication could bring. It’d been perfect, cloned super-soldiers, designed to fight as a complete unit.



They had been the perfect battle-unit; cloned super-soldiers, designed to have collective thought, their natural strengths augmented by stims, their human frailties kept in check with suppressants.



And now, Alpha was Alpha Prime. He was andividual unused to singular thought: and, his mind felt empty. He missed who he had been and, who he had become.

And, this was the first cause for fear he had ever known: The onlies were small and, limited. And, now he was an onlie himself, his mind eager to be filled with new experience.



There was no green around and thus no water. Yet, Alpha was thirsty. He looked up, shielding his eyes with the flat of his right. Alpha looked up to the sky; the sky was cloudless and blue, with the sun high and very hot.



He walked with a slow and measured pace, content to let his thoughts go freeflow, as his feet trudged onward.



Thinking solo was still a novelty and, to do so, was interesting for the soldier. And so, Alpha carried on walking, as the sun beat down on him.





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Two ~ Morning-time



Alpha had no stubble, nor ever would have; he possessed the perfect buzz-cut and, it would stay that way. And, of medium height, his musculature was ideal for normal and heavy density atmospheres. It was how he’d been designed.



But, one thing could that could not be written into or out of his data-profile – his physical Needs, one of them being his Need for drink. And, once awake that second day Alpha realized that he was thirsty, very thirsty in fact.



Blinking ‘gainst the bright morning sun, already in his eyes, Alpha rose and peed into his cupped hands.

‘That’d been twice now,’ he mused: ‘sterile, wet and, waay too warm.’



But, it was a drink.



He tucked himself away, then stretched, touched his toes with his fingertips and, kept himself limber. Besides all else, Alpha had to find water.



‘Existence is all very well,’ he thought idly, ‘but a body does have certain Needs.’



And with that in mind, Alpha donned his belt, with the requisite knife tucked in. Then, clutching his pulse weapon, Alpha began to journey toward his destination: ‘Whatever that is,’ he considered, with a wry grin.





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Two ~ Evening-time



For hour upon hour Alpha had walked, until he came to the end of the desert plain, which gave way to dry soil and shale, then some light vegetation. The scrubland gave way to the base of a sheer cliff face, it’s top lost in the low-lying clouds.



Noticing an old dried-up winding river bed Alpha fell to his knees and, he’d begun to dig, putting a great deal of effort into it and finally this was rewarded, as a small trickle of water welled up into the hole he had dug.



A smile spread across the face of the normally stoic warrior, moments before he lay on his belly, to cup into the pooled water with his right hand and, then he’d drunk.



Eventually his thirst was slaked and Alpha rolled over, to look up at the blue-sky, shielding his with his right hand. And, for a brief moment Alpha allowed himself the luxury of relaxation, as he closed his eyes.



As he had the previous day, when he’d begun his journeying, Alpha let his mind go freeflow, “After all it isn’t often I get the chance to…” He said aloud.



And Alpha had suddenly found himself puzzled by his lack of recall; he was here after all, ‘Wherever here is…’ Yet, there was no memory of how and him and his unit had become separated, or indeed where he was.



Yet, he had drunk his fill and as minutes passed, his breathing slowed down and became heavier, as did his eyelids.



But, Alpha was unaware of eyes watching him as he slept…





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Morning time



A myriad of images flowed inside Alpha’s brain as he slept fitfully. And then, abruptly he was awake and cold.



Without sitting, or showing any signs of life, he listened to the night, conscious of something. It was just that he was now an ‘onlie’, dependant on just five senses and, ‘sometimes,’ he mused, ‘that isn’t enough.’



A skittering caught his attention and, before he opened his eyes, thought turned into action, as he rolled onto his back, eyes open the pulse weapon in his hands, muzzle pointed toward the ground before him, in the dark.



He fired a short burst and heard the skittering no more.



Standing slowly, Alpha took a few steps and, then knelt. The shot had made a clean kill and the large snake that had caught his attention was alive no more.



“Well,” he muttered, as he held the frazzled and headless snake, “I know they can do a lot nowadays, but they still haven’t learnt to do a head transplant…”



For a moment, Alpha had forgotten that he didn’t know when or where he was… and, with recall he sighed and sank to his knees, his grief from the loss of all he’d known threatening to overwhelm him. Until… he realized that he was as hungry as he was.



“And snakes makes good eating…” he muttered, wiping away a trickling tear with his free hand.



Alpha stood again and, walking across to the base of the sheer rocky face, he stared around himself, looking for suitable kindling amongst the rocks. And, finding little that would be suitable within easy reach



Thankful to have the pulse weapon with him, Alpha turned and directed it toward a large rock nearby of about his waist-height: and levelling his weapon, he directed a long blast of energy toward it, heating it till it glowed red.



Alpha slung the weapon over his shoulder and knelt, placing the snake on the ground before him. And, in the dim light produced from the heated rock, he skinned then gutted it, stripping the good meat from it, which he placed on the rock.



And, he sat before the rock cross-legged warming his hands, as the snake cooked, letting his mind wander, much as he had of late.



There was much he missed, yet the memories were mixed, like a jumbled jigsaw waiting to be put together.



There were people, faces, places he had known and, connections he had lost.



“But, I have something to eat, right now,” he said aloud, finding it interesting that he had grown used to hearing himself, finally. Up till that first day of his reawakening, little of his communication had been non-verbal. With his squad, speech hadn’t been needed. They had operated as one. And, now he was one.



Snarling at his sadness, he swept aside the past and lifted a portion of the meat from the rock with the tip of his knife and laid it on another just to his right.



Cutting a portion off the meat he bit into it and began to chew. This was a novelty in itself, his memory brought into forethought, with the taste and texture of the meat, as he continued to slowly chew.



There had been many ration packs in his past and, he recalled them well, recalling the slush, the mush and the sliding down his throat.



Swallowing, he turned to the test of the meat still cooking, satisfied it was done to his liking, so he removed the rest and placed it with the first piece, which he continued to cut at, every now and then.



And, all the while, Alpha was unaware of the young blue-eyes, watching his every move, or the mouth filling with saliva, as they watched him eat….



Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Noontime



Sitting looking to his young companion, Alpha’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly, as he contemplated all he had learnt in the last few hours.



The youngster was dressed in homespun clothing that fitted his skinny frame well. It was that quality of the clothing that impressed the man, especially in lieu of all he had learnt in the last few hours.



And with a brief grin, he recalled the youth’s cautious approach to the heated rock where he’d sat eating cross-legged.



When he’d heard him approach, Alpha had considered bringing his weapon to bear, yet had held back, quickly realizing that the frightened looking boy had been no threat, to him.



The lad had been watching him for hours, from the safety of a boulder, which obscured the entrance to a fissure at the base of the rock face; Alpha had learnt and, was starving he had been informed.



And, as wide-eyes had stared at the cooked food, Alpha had been touched by an emotion that had been written out of his gene-pool, compassion.



In a gentle voice, he had told the lad, “Take some…”



“Reallies?” The boy had quizzed, amazement evident in his voice. And, though obviously scared, he had stepped forward.



‘Guess hunger outweighs fear?’ Alpha had mused, with wry amusement.



“You’re not like the ancestors wrote of…” he had been told between large mouthfuls of cooked snake, “you’re not…”



“Not what?” Alpha had asked, having knelt down, so that he and the boy were at the same height.



And, for a moment the boy had stopped eating long enough to mutter words he had heard many times, “’Murderin bastards’ Grandfather says…”



“And what makes you think I’m one of them?” Alpha queried in a gentle voice.



“I see the pictures on the picture machine. We only use it when we got lectricity. But Granfather showed me the pictures of the killermen. And, they looked like you and…” He pointed to Alpha’s pulse weapon, “and, they carried those thingies… the fire guns… that…” And, the boy had paused a moment, seeking the right words, “kill lots and lots of our people…”



He had thought about what he’d heard, feeling saddened by the lad’s words.

“And, when did all this happen?” Alpha had asked, curiosity filling him.



And, the boy had frowned long and hard, as he considered the question. Finally he had looked to Alpha, with the trace of a smile on his mouth, “Granfather was my age, back when the killermen arrived in the fiery ships in the sky…”



“Well… My name’s Alpha…” Alpha pronounced, offering his hand to the lad, as he attempted to smile.



And, his effort had not been wasted, as the boy looked to him and grinned and taken his hand, “I’m Mike, or Michael Granfather calls me…” And, he’d continued to shake Alpha’s hand, as he had added, “an Daddy called me Mkey, before…”



“Before what Mike?” Alpha had prompted, sitting back and crossing his legs.



“Before a worm got him…” the boy had informed him, with his eyes with tears.



Alpha had leant forward and filled with a warmth toward the boy that he found unexpected, he had ruffled the lads hair.



“Death comes to us all…” And though he said it, Alpha wondered about what he’d told Mike: after all, ‘I’m not dead and, I should have died a long while ago.”



He had noticed the lad shiver and, though he did not feel temperature as the onlies did, this sense of compassion had led to a degree of empathy he had been unused to.



Alpha had stood and, swinging his weapon into his hands he fired a beam of energy toward the cooling rock, which quickly reddened once more.



Mike had watched in amazement, as the rock heated.



“Get yourself warm Mike… and, perhaps you’ll tell me about the worms?” He had asked the boy, in a gentle voice.



The boy had sat near him, reaching out to warm his hands, as he began speaking: “They live in the sand and, for years they do what they do… eat us. Then Granfather’s daddy and his friends found the home in the sky and…we found a safe place to live.”





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Late afternoon





Pondering on all he had heard and learnt, Alpha ruffled the boy’s hair, as he asked, “Do you think your Grandfather would talk to me?”



Mike looked at the powerful looking man and then his weapon: “He won’t like that.”



Alpha looked to where he stared and smiled lightly, “From what you said I don’t blame him or you. But, you can carry it, if you feel safer. I’ll approach with my hands up… I’ll…” he wanted to say something else, but words eluded him.



Mike looked to him and smiled.



“It’s all right Sir, from the little I know of you… you’re alright… but….” He was doubtful. He knew his grandfather and, how he recalled the old times. ‘Heck,’ he considered, ‘he was about my age, back then…’



Frowning, Alpha stood. He unclipped the weapons charge-pack, which he handed to the boy telling him, “Without that, I can’t use this. Alright?”



The boy nodded. “I understand…” He replied.



“Good,” Alpha assured him, grinning; albeit feeling apprehensive now. After all with the weapon he knew no-one, or little else, could be a threat to him. Without it, he was just a well-trained soldier, his DNA restructured for harsh environments; his physical skills honed to the zenith of what was possible, for a super-soldier, like him.



Yet the weapon gave him that edge, he needed.



And yet, he needed some thing more: Alpha needed knowledge, knowledge of who he was and where he came from.



‘The boy’s grandfather might just have that information…’ he mused; wanting to know more, to… understand.



“Now without that clip, this is useless,” He began, indicating the weapon, “So, do you feel alright taking me to visit grandfather?”



The boy nodded and Alpha grinned toward him,



“And you’ll hold that in plain sight will you?” He requested.



“Uhuh mister, I will… but why?” He asked curiously.



Alpha turned to look at the terrain he had crossed, musing and, although he heard the question, there was another on his mind: ‘If there was something dangerous out there, then why hadn’t it attack him?’



“Mister?” The boy requested, tugged on Alpha’s belt, “you alright mister?”



‘Mister… Mister…? Mister Cage?’ There it was: a memory, from his DNA; an Echo from his past…. f past wars…and, something else, someone else.



The boy continued to tug on his belt, “Alpha! Can you… can you hear me?”



‘Hear me… hear me…’ The words swept through a confused mind, until finally they reached where intended, drawing Alpha from his reverie.



“Yes Mike?” He responded.



“Are you alright mister?” The boy asked, concern evident on his face and, on his face,



Shaking himself from his reverie, Alpha focussed on his now; and the boy’s voice, then his face…



And, his mind found clarity once more…



“Yes Mikey,” He answered, ruffling the lad’s hair again; “I’m alright.”



The lad liked what he did: it reminded him of… his father.



Grinning sheepishly up at Alpha he asked, “You seemed so distant. Where were you Mister?”



“Alpha…” He was reminded.



“It’s Alpha not mister. Alright Mikey?” Alpha requested, running his left hand over his brow, to keep the sweat of the day at bay and, found that his hair was no longer cut extremely short and, now it was a good half-inch long, all over.



The boy nodded.



“I guess… I’m more complicated than I thought I was…”



And grinning at the boy he said, “The sun’s getting hot again, very hot. We should get moving, if you’re going to take me to meet your grandfather…”



Again the boy nodded, hardly taking his eyes from Alpha, the weapons clip gripped tight in his hand.



“Thank you Mikey,” Alpha said with a smile, “Now give me five minutes eh?”



The boy looked to Alpha puzzled.



And, shyly Alpha responded, “I’m just going over there,” he indicated the rock, covering the base of the fissure in the rock face.



“Why Alpha?” The lad asked.



“I… I need to void my bladder,” he explained, feel quite embarrassed, to be explaining himself, especially to a boy. ‘Now, why was that?’ He mused.



For a second the boy looked confused and, then finally he looked up and grinned widely, comprehension dawning on him.



“You want a piss!” He bellowed, laughing.



And once more, Alpha found himself embarrassed.



‘Why is this?’ He mused. ‘Why emotions, now? Why…? Why is my hair growing?”

There were questions, too many questions and, Alpha had to focus.



“Yes…” He answered flatly.



“Well not there,” the lad answered, suppressing further hilarity, with difficulty.



“Why?” Alpha asked.



“Coz the path up to the topland is behind that rock,” the boy answered and, finally unable to keep his mirth at bay any longer, he burst out laughing again.



Alpha squatted down and, placing his right hand on the lad’s left shoulder, he asked, “The toplands? What are they?”



Mike ceased laughing and, with as serious a face as he could muster, responded simply, “It’s where granfather lives. It’s where we live…”





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Early eveningtime





Alpha looked up and where the cliff-face disappeared into the clouds, “Exactly where is Toplands Mikey?”



There was another memory, of a time passed.



He had been with many others, repelling down ropes their weapons ready, toward…?

It was hazy, the memory so distant. But there it was.



“Behind the rock Alpha. There’s a path up to the topland, where it’s green and we have the colnee…” the boy explained, as patiently as possible; he’d been away quite awhile now and, Mike knew Granfather would be worried about him.



“Alright Mikey,” Alpha retorted as he stood, “I’ll find another rock to pee behind.”

And, that is what he did, as Mike stood himself and bean to make his way toward the rock face and, the way back home.



He had left the village on a dare from one of his classmates; having made the mistake of telling them he’d made several expeditions to the downland, where his Father had gone and been killed, as seen by two other hunters.



And, he had told them the truth. He just hadn’t told them he had only ever been as far as that first rock at the base of the crack in the escarpment.



And now here he was, taking a stranger to his home: Mike was wary about that. But he seemed alright and, he did remind him of…. his Father.



“You set to go them?” Alpha asked quietly, approaching the boy slowly.



“Yeah… I guess,” Mike answered, biting his upper lip.



“Go on, what’s the matter?” Alpha queried, again puzzled by these new emotions he felt: after all; here he was feeling empathy and, compassion for an onlie.



‘Where did it come from?’



“Well, I jus…” the boy looked to Alpha, deep in thought.



“I jus don’t want grandfather, or Mummy to be in danger…” He finally answered.



And somewhere in Alpha’s gut, a spring sprung tighter



He had not known his family, having been taken from them at school-age, to begin having the modifications needed, to make him into who and what they had: a super-soldier, connected by a commonality, to his comrades in battle: restructured DNA which had made them the perfect fighting unit. ‘Until…?’



He had been with many others, repelling down ropes, toward a rebel colony?

‘Was that it?’ he wondered, shaking his head, to thrust the recollections back where they belonged, for now.



“Believe me Mikey, I meant… erm, I mean… I mean your family no harm. I just…” Again Alpha was lost, for words.



“Is alright Alpha… I think I can trust you…” The boy told him, feeling somehow reassured, by the soldier’s apparent doubts. He did seem ‘safe’.



“C’mon,” he began, taking Alpha’s left hand in his right, the clip now in his left hand: “If we start, we can maybe make it there before the nightguards come out…”



“Who are they?” Alpha asked, allowing the boy to lead them, toward the rock, the gap behind it and, the dark.



Suddenly Alpha realized something else about himself, he didn’t like the dark.



Mike felt his hand get clammy and, felt him pull a little, “You alright?”



Alpha was sweating and, his heartrate had increased. He knew he was not ’alright’.

Yet, this emotion had to be controlled, so that is what Alpha did.



Finding resources from within, power filled his muscles and mind clearing of fear, Alpha looked to the boy and replied, “I’m fine my young friend. Lead on…”



Mike did as bid, leading them passed the large rock and, onto the pathway cut into the rock, which led upward, in steps.



“They were built when the colnee landed. The oldie’s they used the ship parts to make our homes back then,” he told Alpha proudly, as he looked over his shoulder.



He had learnt well at school, paying special attention when he heard mention of the downland, where his Father went, with a hunting party, looking for one of the worms, rations being so scare.



Yet, his father had not returned and, the men who had come back had told of how the wom had risen up from the sand, beeping and roaring, as it rose, maw open to take his father, deep into his belly.



And, Mike stopped for a moment, as tears fell.



In the dark, Alpha walked into his back, hearing the boy sniff hard, trying hard to keep any more tears from falling; ‘You’re the man of the house’ grandfather would remind him at times. And, he was right.



“Yes, I’m alright…” Mike told Alpha; then took his hand again, as they progressed upward, on the well-worn path.





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Eveningtime





Finally, they made into to where the pathway left the fissure and, Alpha walked forward a little then turned back to walk toward the cliff edge. He and looked into the clouds, knowing that once more he found himself walking into an unknown, without his men at his aside.



For Alpha, that was almost as bad as being with a working weapon.



Almost, but not quite…



“Alpha…” they boy called and, he turned back, a smile on his face.



“Yes Mike… I’m sorry. Which way?” He responded.



The boy stepped forward and took his hand, leading Alpha forward, into dense woods.

“This way Alpha… it’ll…” He looked around, momentarily fearful himself.



“It’ll be about ten minutes… alright?”



Alpha felt the lad squeeze his hand and, he wondered at this reassurance, one found from the contact of another… it was similar to that connection he had known with his men, yet… somehow different.

“Yes Mike, alright…” He told the boy, a concern, and a minor one; well more of an irritant, floating there… caught his attention, once more.



“You didn’t answer my question…” Alpha recalled.



“What?” Mike quizzed of him, looking momentarily flustered by the statement.



Unlike the downlands, the woodland on the topland was cooler and darker, .



“Earlier I asked about the nightguard, what is it?” Alpha asked, beginning to feel wary once more…



“The nightguard are our protector and, have been since…” the boy paused, recalling his history lessons, “Well, since the first day.”



Musing on this, Alpha sighed; ‘So much to learn, in a short space of time.’

.



Alpha From The Ashes



Day Three ~ Nightime Terror



His grip on Alpha’s hand, Mike led them deeper into the forest, eyes glanced anxiously side-to-side, as they did so.



Finally Alpha asked, “Are you as nervous as you look?”



Turning to look at Alpha, the boy scowled, “The nightguard are to be feared and revered, as our protectors…”



Realizing the lad was speaking from learnt rote, Alpha decided not to pursue the matter any further, until a thought suddenly occurred to him: “What do they look like?” He asked, in a gentle voice, in a manner he hoped seemed conversational.



“They are both terrifying and yet, to be relied upon. Such are those we call the nightguard…” the lad droned.



They were getting deeper into the darkness, where the boughs of tees grew near to one another and, their overhanging branches netted together.



“And you made your way from the village and through this forest, to get to the path and the downlands?…” Alpha queried softly: “Well, you sure came a long way…” Alpha mused, “for a bite of my snake…”



There was squad humour mixed with observation, as Alpha spoke, his words acting to highlight a seriousness of intent.



“Well, I got dared by classmates,” the boy explained defensively, as if it explained everything and somehow, for Alpha, it did.



Abruptly, a keen shrill shriek broke the quiet of the night, a long shrill shriek that was repeated time and again, accompanied by the sound of heavy wings beating together.



Mike gave a start, looking bug-eyed toward Alpha, who had ceased walking at the sound. Then, with one finger to his lips he looked at the boy as, Alpha glared into the blackness all around, staring as if by sheer will alone he’d be able to see into the dark, to see what he needed.



He couldn’t of course, not even his augmented vision could see in pitch black. But, he did note a whirring above him.



Then he saw the green eyes on yellow, set within two within two flattened ellipse; and they were nearing fast, as the sound became a distinct flapping, close-to.



And all-of-a-sudden, twin sets of talons tore into the boy’s shoulders,



Then Alpha watched, as Mike found himself left, blood trailing downward…





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Four ~ Terror In The Sky





‘Soon blood loss will take it’s toll,’ thought Alpha calmly, as above his head, Mike screamed with pain.



“Quick Mike,” Alpha called to the boy, “throw me the clip!” Then with added urgency, he shouted, “Now!”



Although he was panicking, Mike did as instructed and threw the clip in a light arc downward and Alpha made to catch it.



And, falling to the ground, he caught the clip, in both hands, his arms outstretched: “Now, come to Papa!” He told the clip, as he slammed it home and, into the body of the pulse weapon.



He had to fire. But…



Alpha didn’t want to hit the boy, as the slow-flapping illustrated that they were rising slowly, so he called out: “Mikey! Mikey!”



“Alpha… It hurts… it hurts…” he heard the boys voice faintly over the sound of flapping wings…



“Keep calling out!” Alpha called back, as he lay on his back, directing the barrel of the weapon upward and, pressed the trigger on instinct alone.



A shriek of pain emitted from the creature carrying the boy, who screamed himself, as the talons holding his shoulders released and, he fell.



Alpha cast his weapon to the side and stood, arms ready…. Then, a mere second later, Mike fell straight into them, eyes closed and, unconscious.



Alpha went down on one knee, looking down at the lad, as somewhere further on in the forest, a nightguard crashed to the earth.



The soldier was unaware of this though; he was too busy standing slowly with the boy in his arms. He walked toward a tree and placed the boy down gently, his back against its trunk. Then Alpha pulled his vest off and used his knife to tear it into strips, which he used as bandages, to care for the boy’s wounds.



“You alright little man?” He murmured finally, caressing an errant lank of hair from the boy’s eyes. There were tears in his own, which were unexpected and new to him.



‘A soldier doesn’t feel; a soldier did his duty’… he heard distantly, the words coming from a memory, tied to an experience many, many years back.



Yet, as Alpha continued to caress the lad’s forehead he felt sadness filling him. The boy seemed quite ill, his breathing shallow and, the white of the bandages were already darkening with the blood soaking through.



Alpha had to act, or the boy would die and, ‘that can’t happen’, he mused.



He picked up the weapon and draped the strapping over his head, then he knelt at Mike’s side: “C’mon little man,” He murmured, as he stood again, with the boy in his arms; “time to go looking for your grandfather…”





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Four ~ Return to Sanctuary





Alpha walked slowly and steadily, following a pathway through the low-lying branches that the lad had left the day prior; thankful the boy had made no effort to cover his trail.



“Gotta get you back to…” he muttered, a moment or so before walking out of the woodland and onto the edge of a clearing and, a small town.



Looking to the left then right and, aware that he was being watched, Alpha strode forward and, as townspeople gathered round him, he continued to walk on, toward the biggest building in the small town, lit by several stands of flaming torches.



From somewhere he heard a man’s voice call out, “That’s Mandy Mcreavey’s lad in that killerman’s arms… someone stop him…” Someone tried. A fellow with bare arms and an old leather apron tied round his corpulent belly stood before Alpha.



“Killerman, give me the boy…” he ordered, a look of menace to his face.

Alpha retained his usual stoic countenance, as he looked to the man, then told him softly, “Get Mandy McCreavey for me… and, get of my way…”



There was no ‘please’, but there was serious intent in the glare that he gave the burly man before him and, the fellow saw it and paled.



Crowds parted for the soldier, holding the boy, so very carefully in his arms. And, by the time he reached the step leading up the meeting house a woman ran toward them calling out, “My boy! My boy!”



Gingerly Alpha lay the lad down on the lowest step, then stood erect, as the wailing woman knelt at her son’s side.



“What did you do to my boy?” the woman snarled, as she looked to the blood seeping through the field-dressings covering his shoulders.



She turned her head to look at Alpha, as a crowd gathered round him in a semi-circle, a mask of sheer hatred on her face; and the townspeople kept a distance from the soldier, as they muttered amongst themselves.



“I made sure he got here Mrs McCreavey, that’s all I did…” he told the woman, adding quite unnecessarily, “The boy needs a doctor.”



Stemming the tears that flowed with the backs of her hands, the woman’s face lost the scowl and somewhere in the crowd, a woman’s voice called out, “Get Doctor Jack!”



Yet, it wasn’t the doctor who the crowd parted for, it was a big man, with a powerful looking frame, sporting a shock of white hair.



The fellow walked forward slowly ignoring Alpha, then made his way toward the steps, where Mandy McCreavey sat, her sons head in her lap.



The big man knelt onto his right knee, as he looked down, at his grandson. Then the fellow looked to the crowd, many of who had flickering lanterns iin their hands and he called out, “Where the hell is that doctor? I want him here, NOW!”



Again the crowd of people broke, to allow a slightly built fellow to walk through, his black holdall in his left hand, a lantern in his hand.



The young man looked to Alpha briefly, as he approached his patient, wary of the stranger, yet intent on doing his duty.



“Get to it doctor,” the big man instructed, standing away from the mother and child and turning to face Alpha: “You and I have to talk, Mister?…”



“Alpha…” Alpha muttered.



“That it?” The big man asked, draping his left arm over Alpha’s, as he guided him up the steps, through double doors and, into a long room, lit by a series of flaming torches, on top of long poles.



“Could say Alpha Prime,” he was told, “but I wouldn’t. Its just Alpha.”



“Well just Alpha…” the big man muttered, as he released his hold on the smaller man, “I’m Alfred McCreavey, the boy’s grandfather…”



“I guessed…” Alpha muttered, so quietly that the man could hardly catch his words.



“But fella, you can call me Ted, alright?”



“Ted?” Alpha queried, “Where are we?”



“We’re in the longhouse, the towns meeting house…” He was informed.



Alpha stared around, at the stacked chairs at one end of the room, near a raised stage; then he looked to the sides, where tables stood, with several item on each.



“And this?” He asked, pointing to a tray nearby.



“Memories of a time when you’re kind arrived here the first-time…” the big man drawled, his words taking his memories back then.



“My kind?” Alpha mused aloud, as several men entered the long room, to stand near the open doors, as he spoke with their Mayor, Alfred McCreavey.



‘Soldiers falling from the skies, landing in our sanctuary, weapons firing death…” he intoned, ‘talking like the boy, as if by learnt rote’, Alpha mused.





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Four ~ Sanctuary Clarified



Alfred McCeavey, the Mayor and the boy’s grandfather, was a big man, with chiselled features; his dark hair worn short was greying at the temples. He appeared to be in his late fifties.



McCreavey passed Alpha a hand-held torch and, in the flickering light he slowly passed one table after another, peering closely at each exhibit, laid carefully on tissue paper with the tray.



A glint caught his eyes and, he looked down to find glasses similar to those he had worn beneath his helmet sitting on a woven platter before him, still intact.



“Yes, we have many exhibits that demonstrate that your kind were here,” the boys Grandfather told Alpha, as a group of men huddled together at the back of the big room, each of them looking over I turn toward Alpha, as they talked together.



Alpha looked around. The exhibits were few, in their trays, on rude tables, but presented on display as they were, the man was right: they illustrated that ‘his kind’ had been on the planet, with their weapons loosing death upon the towns people and earning them the sobriquet, ‘the killermen.’





He reached down and without asking permission, Alpha picked up the mirrored ‘shades’, which he slipped on, setting them in place and, adjusting them to suit.



Suddenly light flared in his brain and he closed his eyes as images flowed…



It was as if a bright white light went off inside Alpha’s skull, beginning just behind his eyes.



And, McCreavey continued talking: “…grateful, of course. But, we recall your kind and, teach our children of how the colnee was all but wiped-out by the killermen, as The Corporations sought to take New Earths bounty.”.



As he spoke, Alpha saw his squad decimate a town and its people. And, as events unfolded before his eyes, Alpha learnt of the soldier head had been; before he arose again.



And, if he’d had belief, Alpha would have said that his visions were from God, so he could learn of what had been.



To Alpha the soldier, this was to be accepted. Yet to Alpha now, non-dependant on stims and born again; what he saw was a revelation from the divine.



But, in this instance, ‘the Divine’ was a bio-chip in the right arm of the glasse, which amplified the Alpha’s group mind, so that information gleamed by each, could be fed back to the whole, or to back to Command; via the chop in the left arm.



They had been responsible for a great many deaths, as he had fought for Tellux Corp.; the largest of the corporations looking for minerals, out on the Outer Fringe of Foundation Space.



Alpha removed the shades, aware that his dna had activated them. That was all. But, what he’d seen had shown his so much that he felt somewhat confused and, very shaky indeed. He blinked several times, and then looked to Alfred, ‘Ted’.



“Are you alright Alpha?” The big man asked, his right hand on Alpha’s shoulder steadying him.



“I’m fine,” Alpha replied. There was a tear trickling down his left cheek.



Alpha felt shamed, yet seeing the glances cast his way by the men at the end of the room he was glad of the pulse weapon at his side.



“I can’t say I blame you,” Alpha muttered.







Having placed the glasses back in the exhibition tray, Alpha turned and looked toward McCreavey . Although the glasses weren’t in place, they had brought a few useful memories to the forefront of his mind.



“The nightguard are part of the security system here, aren’t they?” Alpha asked unnecessarily, He had seen them before, sometimes used as warders of penal planets.



Yet, this wasn’t a penal planet, ‘was it?’



Whether these men and women were the descendents of oldstyle colonists, or former colonists, it was apparent they’d treated the nightguard as their protectors.



The nightgard were more than that; Alpha knew that.



“We know not fellow,” the big man replied thoughtfully, “we are taught from an early age not to leave the toplands. Yet Mikey did that, like his Father. And, look what happened to him?”



“You can’t blame the boy, for what happened,” Alpha told McCreavey, thoughtfully mulling over the nights event. What he had seen had been a revelation; yet they had been nothing, in comparison to the memories that the images had reawakened.



This planet had been assigned a number by Tellux Corp. and, for the Corporation, that all the colony was, a number on a mission folder, from which he had read out his orders, for his men.



That much he recalled, yet he still could not recall were the nightguard came from.

“Who placed them there?” He mused aloud.



Alfred McCreavey looked on, at the seeming madman, muttering away.



“And, why haven’t I spoken with anyone else, other than you?” Alpha questioned, of himself and, the room, moments before he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.





Alpha From The Ashes



Day Five ~ Fresh Morning, New Day





“Fella… Alpha, easy…” Alpha heard from a distance, as the big man picked up in his arms, quite effortlessly: “And these are my people. Now maybe I do owe you; but you’re a stranger to the toplands…”



Alpha was dimly aware of being carried outside and, of the fresh night air, as he was carried a distance, being lain down on a single bed.



“We don’t get strangers here and, we’ve never seen a killerman, till you….”



A blanket was pulled over him.



“But, you saved my grandson, so I’m indebted to you…”



Then a wet rag on his forehead and, a woman’s gentle voice gave him momentary reassurance, until the blackness took him once again.



And, in his back-brain, Alpha heard another voice quite distinctly; a voice that he somehow realized was not human.



“You are confused Alpha Man, killer of colonists…” the voice intoned and, Alpha winced within the darkness, aware the statement was correct. He was a killer.



“You have a chance for redemption, killerman. The children I have nurtured since the pogrom…



This was sensory overload; and to avoid hearing anything more, Alpha’s mind seemed to shutdown, further still.



Then as awareness slowly returned yet again, Alpha’s head tossed to and fro. And, Mandy McCreavey still sat by his bedside, speaking to him in a hushed voice, “C’mon mister,” she told him, padding his forehead with a cold damp compress, “after saving Mikey, you have to get better… you have to!”



Leaning forward, Mandy pressed soft lips to his right cheek; “You hear that mister? You saved him. You saved him…”



Mandy McCreavey was oh-so-frustrated; she wanted Alpha to know, to understand, just what he’d done for her. Yet, to all appearance ‘that was impossible,’ she considered impossible. She was not to know though, Alpha had heard her voice, her words; and he stirred, a little.



‘The nightguard was the lat of its kind…’ the booming voice, of indeterminate sex, informed Alpha, filling his skull with its presence…



And, Alpha felt the need to scream at this invasion. But, he didn’t…

Instead of doing so, Alpha cried out, “But, I saved the boy, I saved the boy!”



And, at his side Mandy McCreavey’s brow furrowed. She wanted to do something, anything, for her boy’s saviour: “But, what can I do?” She murmured, dabbing at his sweat-sheened forehead again.



All the while, the voice spoke, filling Alpha’s mind, with its words: ‘I regret the harm that came to the little person. But, the guardian kept the peoples of the toplands safe at night, from those who took from them and, from this one and, protected from those outside…’



“I’d had to kill it!” Alpha moaned.



And, as another cold compress was applied, Mandy assured him that he’d ‘done the right thing’ by squeezing his right-hand between hers, as she murmured, “Hush, hush… it’ll be alright. Calm down….” She was concerned for the powerfully built man, who appeared quite delirious.



‘The killermen in their big ships return…’



‘How do you know that?’ Alpha asked the voice, calmer and very curious; speaking to the voice in the same manner it did, inside his mind.



And, Mandy McCreavey continued to stroke Alpha’s fevered brow, grateful he seemed calmer now.



She was obviously quite unaware of Alpha’s conversation with the voice, speaking to him still.



‘How do you know they’re returning?” Alpha asked.



‘An other… like this one… in the outerland… they have told me, of their presence…’ Then there was silence a moment, then the voice returned: ‘After… that one was changed…’



In a moment of clarity, Alpha understood.



The lowlands, or the downloand, were Ground level… the toplands, the plateau. And, the outerland was… space. The other was… ‘It was just too incredible…’



The other was a planet, a sentient planet, like the one he spoke with now….



‘It was alive! And furthermore, it had been protecting the plateau’s inhabitants as if they were its to care for…’



And, as if to prove the strength of the connection between Alpha and it, the voice told him as in response, ‘They need protection… from the changing,’



‘The changing?’ Alpha queried. ‘The changing…?’ Again he found clarity, albeit slowly, “You mean terraforming!”



‘I know not of this word… but after they returned, the other was not the same…’ he heard the voice tell him, each word halting, as if drawn from great depths.



‘They make a place a blank slate to work from, then change that planet, to suit corporate need…’ Alpha explained, idly wondering if the worm that the boys’ father had hunted had been brought here, to produce ‘spice’, for The Federation.



There was a long moment of silence; then the voice spoke once more, sounding almost bright in tone, ‘Ahhhh… like this one did with a dead killerman.’



‘If a planet could laugh, I’m sure it would,’ Alpha mused, moments before he began to awaken fully, the seeds of new growth taking place within.



But as yet, Alpha was unaware of this… He was aware though of Mandy McCreavey’s arms being thrown round his neck, her kisses on his cheek and, the cool breeze of a new morning blowing through the open window, onto his cheek.



“Now that sort of greeting could make someone want to fall unconscious more often,” he muttered, face pressed against her breast, as Mandy continued to hug him.



“Fool,” Mandy exclaimed with a smile, the flat of her left hand on his chest, as she sat back onto her haunches.



Alpha rubbed at his eyes, as he accepted the glass of water she offered.



“I recall you, Mikes mother. How is he?” Alpha asked.



“He’s doing well Mister….”



“Alpha…”



“He’s doing well Alpha,” Mandy told him, standing; “I’ll go tell the Mayor you’re awake and…”



“He has a new nightguard… be sure to tell him that…” Alpha told her, with a smile.





COMMENTS

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Interruptions

23:37 Feb 01 2012
Times Read: 825


Not intended for younger readers.





*









“Interruptions, Interruptions,” I mutter, as my study door opens.



She enters the room and pounces; licks my cheek and runs off.



I just sit there bemused, shaking my head, as she runs from the room, slamming the door after her.



And, I can hear her giggles from far off.



My flow ruined, I mutter away: ‘No more writing tonight.’



Pressing control and ess, I save the notes, then turn in my chair, the scowl turning into a smile; “…got to learn more of the playful Jesse,” I say aloud, opening one door, then another, where I find her sitting on the edge of the bed, now sans panties, “Am in a very playful mood here lately…” She tells me, laughing.” And it’s as infectious as her nudity is arousing.





“I'll concede, I quite like it,” T tell her, watching Jesse run a hand through her short dark hair, her eyes alight with bedevilment.



“wanna play with me?” She asks, and then giggles some more.





“And YOU have idea's of what I'm capable of…” I tell her, arms crossed, trying to look stern.





Her hands to her face, Jesse blushes: she has more than an idea… she knows.



“Well I would need a spanking to my ass…” She tells me, blushing.



Then, she giggles again.



“…a licking was thinking more the butterfly wings down below,” I tell her smiling..



“…never had them called that.” She informs me. “I like it and mmm yes they so need a good long lick.”



“…upward slowly,” I tease,” either side, then to the middle, to pay attention to a throbbing nubbin of flesh...”



”Mmm yes...” Jesse murmurs, “been so long since she's had attention, other than my fingers of course…” She tells me, then giggles.

“My tongue would welcome replacing the fingers!” I tell Jesse with a smile, as I approach the bed.



“Mmmhmmm… oh my yes,” she murmurs, eyes closed, lids flickers, as she hears my words, contemplating my intent and, Jesse’s fingers begin to move down to her heated sex.



“tasting... lathing her with my moist tongue…” I continue, quietly nearing her.



And as I watch, I undress.



“Mmmm swear gonna make me cum…” Jesse sigh’s, licking dry lips, as I kneel before her.



“Gently holding your thighs apart, I'd continue to lick at your clit...” I add, in a soft voice.



“oh god yes...” She groans, rubbing her blood-suffused clit.





I gently ease her heated thigh’s apart, the smell of her a magnet for my senses. And, I taste her, licking slowly, lapping at her and, finally finding her bud, I give the attention she seeks, replacing her fingers with my tongue.



My tongue seeking entrance, I grasp Jesse’s buttocks, the middle-finger of my right handed moving toward her taut sphincter.



Suddenly, her eyes flicker open; “Please finger my ass! God you got me so wet right now!”



Then I look up a moment to ask: "Deeper?"



And, NOW... I lick and lathe some more... tasting of her.



And, as my fingertip enters Jesse, easing her asshole open at my insistence, I nip at her clit with my teeth.



“Yes deeper,” she entreats, biting her bottom lip, rubbing at her clit faster then earlier.



Looking up, as I use my tongue... I ease my right forefinger deeper, then slide my left forefinger into you, next to it... as deep as it, widening you, getting your ass ready, for more....



“Mmmm…” grinding her ass on my fingers, riding them my legs spread wider holding her head closer, her back arching up.



I enjoy the taste of you, revelling in her smell and taste, as I thrust... THRUST... my fingers in and out of your opened asshole... quite ready for your response...



Jesse moans louder as I thrust in her asshole wanting more, grinding her hips up on my face.



Tasting the wetness on your inner thighs, I ease the wedding ring fingers, from both hands... into you.



Now you're gaping, for me...



As I tongue you...



And Jesse smiles, groaning with pleasure, yet wanting more, wanting me in her ass: ”Please fuck my ass… so close to cumming,,,”



Kneeling back onto my haunches, I grasp your buttocks and turn you quick; then easing your butt cheeks apart, I ease my seven and a half hard inches of cut self, into your still gaping asshole, balls deep... all-in-one... and I bite, at your right shoulder, as I try to enter your colon...



Jesse gasps as I enter, her ass tightening on my hard flesh, pushing back against me, to ease my passage…



And holding her hips, I ease in and out... slowly, at first... then getting faster, enjoying the sensation of her ass walls around me...



”Oh God… yes I love it fast… oh fuck me… am about to cum…” Jesse murmurs, almost incoherent with passion, as she rubs at her clit, hard and fast.



My right hand tweaking her right nipple... HARD... I NOW hold her left butt cheek tight, as I thrust harder...

Jesse cums, squirting some on her hand, grinding herself back, her hips rotating, “Oh God…”



Back and forth my hips drive, as my length continues to enter then exit... and... I Iean forward... to NOW grasp Jesse’ left nipple twixt right thumb and forefinger and, her right nipple with my left and, I pull downward, as I thrust harder... trying to get deeper into her... ASS.



Then Jesse moans louder, her nipples rock hard, as she keeps rubbing her clit as I stretch out her hole...



Then with a bellowing roar, I throw my head back, shooting my creamy seed over Jesse’s buttock-flesh.



Finally I am sated. Then, I look down and smile…



Her face pressed to the pillow, I begin to spank Jesse’s butt cheeks, first the right then left then back again, turning her flesh crimson and, she moans.



‘Pleasure, or pain?’ I muse.



But, the two are so entwined; it hardly matters.



Finally I sit to her side, running my right hand over her warm skin



“Now, next time I’m writing I don’t want any interruptions,” I tell her. As I stand and move toward the open doorway.



As I look back, I see that Jesse is looking he left shoulder with a smile on her face, “Oh I’ll be a really good girl and, not interrupt…. Maybe…”



And then as I leave the room, I hear her giggling again…


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