[SF story] Homecoming

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Eleas
Jaina Dax
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[SF story] Homecoming

Post by Eleas »

All right, guys - this is just the prologue, to find out whether you guys want to see more of the story. It was considerably difficult to write even this much, as I didn't have the characters ready-made or the benefits of writing in my native language. So my guess is it'll read a bit differently than what I last wrote. Hopefully, it'll still be fun.


Homecoming - Prologue


And crawling on the planet's face
Some insects called the human race
Lost in time, lost in space
And meaning.
--Super Heroes // Rocky Horror Picture Show



Waking up was a gradual thing. He could not point to a certain moment and say "I was conscious then"; he felt it more as a gathering clarity. It was as if he were a freshly taken photograph from one of those ancient cameras, a blank film gradually taking on detail, gaining focus, texture, depth. And as awareness returned, so did the room he was in, and it was gloomy, warm, and unfamiliar.

He was alone. The ceiling loomed above him, a dull, smooth surface, lighting fixtures all that broke its flat monotony. In the dim red light of the fluorescent lamps the room seemed red-hot, but the only source of warmth was the bunk he lay on, a moist heat that made his back cling to the covering. One palm rested on its surface. The touch felt unpleasant - some sort of plastic, he decided.

Alone. There should be someone else here. And where’s here? The question spread rings on his consciousness, echoed in his mind. And who was supposed to be with me? He did not remember, but there was the nagging, vaguely shameful feeling that he should know, if he had been stronger and better. The two questions burned, and there were no answers.

All right, he decided, shutting his eyes and rolling over to escape the bloody light of the cell. All right, start from the beginning. Who are you?

Silence. He felt the first brushing touch of fear, a tendril of panic coiling inside him. It was a terrifying thing, to realize such total lack of knowledge and direction. He felt naked, adrift... helpless. But that was only for a moment. Then, floating before his inner eye as if highlighted, an answer came. Jacob, it said.

Relief overtook him like a surging wave. Jacob, that’s what I’m called. Jacob Marsden. Jacob Thomas Marsden.

As stiff as his muscles felt, however numb his face was, he made himself smile. This was better... now, questions. How long had he slept? He did not know, but ignorance did not bring the same terror as before. Not now, when he had something to hold on to, somewhere to begin. He would search. He would know. He would find out.

His smile became a frown. Though the situation was bizarre and unsettling, it had been constant until now, static. But now, something was amiss – what it was, he could not tell. He swung his feet over the edge of the bunk and came to his feet, surveying the bare room. It was little more than a cell, with few amenities other than his bed and a hole in the floor by the opposite wall, which, he assumed, served as a lavatory. He... (what was his name again? Oh yes, Jacob, better not forget that) ...took an uncertain step toward one wall, and nearly slipped, mentally cursing his numb body. The floor shone dully with the reflected blood-light that was the cell’s sole illumination. He heaved himself to his feet with profound distaste.

The lights flickered. Jacob ran his hands over the walls, finding them devoid of cracks or seams. In truth, he would have suspected the whole cell to be a one-piece prefab unit, if not for the fact that he had to have passed through a door in the first place. A slow spark of anger began kindling as he realized that he didn’t even know if he had been carried inside, or walked of his own free will. His ignorance was absolute.

No. He did know something. The beeping sound at the edge of hearing, the one he had almost thought imagined... had stopped. He strained his ears, hoping to catch any hint of what this could mean. Futile, of course, he knew. Still, he had to try.

The sudden tremor that shook the small room came as a complete surprise. Jacob would have fallen to the ground, but for the fact that there really wasn’t very much room to fall, there. He did manage to brace himself against the closest wall. The second shudder was more powerful, staggering him even when he was prepared. Far away, he seemed to hear the dim roll of thunder. Explosion, was his first thought, and, shit.

Now, closer, clear and distinct through the metal, he could hear the wail of an alarm klaxon. We have to be on a ship... that’s a class C warning... and,. Jacob paused in mid-thought, ...where the fuck did that come from?
A memory. So his case wasn’t hopeless, then. That was good to know. The bad part was that he didn’t know what a class C warning was, but at least he felt a little more confident of his ability to handle the situation. On the other hand, whatever the warning meant, those explosions hadn’t sounded like everything was fine and dandy. And being locked in a cell when something’s clearly gone wrong can do remarkable things to one’s state of mind.

Jacob paced. There was nothing else to do, and though his body was weak, his adrenaline compensated more than enough. He felt vaguely curious at the direction his thoughts were taking, as if expecting himself to panic or despair. Instead, he felt strangely calm. There had to be a door, and a door could be opened. But he had very little to work with. A methodical search of his clothing produced no results; neither did a prolonged attempt at smashing the light fixture overhead. Jacob started to wonder if this was all some weird type of fire alarm or drill, and if the alert was going to stop soon.

Instead, the light flickered once, and went out.

Now he felt panic, but it was a dull and featureless thing, easily smothered. In the darkness, he groped for the bed, and found it. He closed his eyes. More than before, at this moment Jacob felt as if there was supposed to be someone else with him. But it was more than that... it was almost like there was someone close by. Someone he knew. Someone... that belonged.

A hiss, and a whirr, and a rectangle of light splashing across the left-hand wall. The alarm assaulted his ears loudly, now unhindered by any obstacle. And as he rose, a memory came unbidden. Class C alarm... vital systems failure in less than thirty minutes. He felt his hands grow clammy as fresh adrenaline propelled him toward the doorway, and a fresh thought forming.

Oh, shit.
Björn Paulsen

"Travelers with closed minds can tell us little except about themselves."
--Chinua Achebe
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