Little Time

Ever stop and look at the world?
Or do you just keep moving forward?
Cause one day your young and then your not
Blink too much and it’ll be spent
Eighteen to thirty in a minute

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever forget the age you are?
Or have you micromanaged this far?
Cause thats just not having a life
Mirrors are a reminder of that
Minutes left before time is out

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever wondered where you’ll land?
Or if you’ll even succeed?
Do something that makes you pleased
We’ll stop focusing on achieve
Before you’re ninety three

Life is short
So open your arms
Time is fleeting
Enjoy your living

Ever decided to just live your life?
Maybe you should try it for once
Stop focusing on how others do
Spend the time on you
Then contentment will flow

Celestial Annihilation

Wednesday story day. Hi everyone! Back again with another short story. Though this is less a story and more the unfolding of an event. It’s a shorter story (about 4100 words) but I think it turned out well. It’s something I wanted to do for a while, but it took me a bit to work out and reach a point that I was happy with the idea. But that’s enough waffling from me, so let’s begin!

“Conner, come on we only have ten minutes.” Silas says from within the safety of his viewing platform which itself is enveloped by a Rosenbaum Distortion Bubble, or RDB for short. The RDB will not only aid in the protection of Silas and the viewing platform, upon which he is settled, as it sits out beyond the limits of the star system, but will also allow for the time between events to be greatly truncated down to mere minutes. Without the presence of the RDB the event would last for millions of years and though Silas would be able to survive that without any real issue, he would rather not sit idly by trying to fill countless eons until the next phase of the helium flash occurs.

“I know full well how long we have Silas. Perhaps even better than you do, seeing as my internal timer is allowing me to keep track of the time down to the most precise of decimal places.” Conner, an AI, says from inside Silas’ head. The two have known one another for an almost inconceivably long period of time. One which Silas, though completely able to comprehend, has to admit is far greater than those of the generation before his own, who would have found it unfathomable to think about. But that had been a very different time and in that very different time people had been born, grown old and eventually died. Death had been as sure as birth. That now, however, was no longer the case. Humanity had grown far beyond the frail and temporary forms from which they had been born into. Many had been terrified by the prospect of leaving their bodies, their birth forms, behind when the transition had first been conceived into being. Silas can’t remember the names of those responsible for the construct network universe of digitally manufactured bliss that is now known as Elysium. Nevertheless, he still thinks about those men and women every day that he rises, as without their daring plunges into science humanity would almost have certainly died out several billion years ago. Not in as wondrous fashion as what he and Conner will experience here, though he doubts his species would have been willing to admit that back in the days when he had still been flesh and bone.

“How I share this head with you I will never know.” Silas retorts with a chuckle as he fidgets trying to get a more comfortable position in preparation of what he will witness. His remark is in jest and that is exactly how Conner will take it, of that he can be sure.

He is one of a few million others doing the same as he, watching this event occur in real, if not heavily truncated, time. The rest of the three septillion members of the human race will simply watch it as and when they please, if they please at all. Many of the newer generations, from the last several hundred million years, aren’t particularly interested in the fate of this system, as they have no connection to it. But for men and women like Silas this system is where it all began. Without it humanity would not be the immortal universe spanning civilization that they are today. For this is the system that was once known as Sol. And Silas can still remember when it held that name, but now it is generally referred to as the cradle system. Silas has never been sure whether he likes the name or not. It’s original moniker while basic and lacking any real imagination still seems to suit it best. But he’s long since concluded that cradle is a fitting enough title for it to be given as well.

“Usually you don’t. When we are in Elysium we both…” Conner begins sounding far more artificial than is the norm for the hyper advanced and incredibly old AI that he is.

“I was joking Conner.” Silas replies, having cut the AI off from his ramblings, before erupting into a hearty laugh.

Anyone else might think that Conner is malfunctioning or that some corruption due to his age is occurring. But Silas knows better. Conner is simply busily checking the platform systems as well as those of the RDB that will permit them to be a witness for this most grand of occasions.

The AI always sounds far less real when he is deep in calculation checks and diagnosis scrubbings. Silas understands why and is thankful that the AI is here with him. Not just so that the AI can almost assure that no harm or error can occur that might annihilate this form that is not the one he was born with, but also for the company. Being an old human, by the standards of those from generations where Elysium and later developments were present from birth, he still feels a need to witness the world beyond the limitless confines of Elysium. Many would think that because Elysium is limitless then to say that it has confines would be a contradiction, but for Silas sometimes things have to be limited for them to be experienced. This, the death of the cradle system, is one of those times. Though, the whole system will not be consumed by the helium flash of the star that humanity still refers to as the sun. Today, as viewed from the perspective of those within the RDB like Silas and Conner, will only see the loss of the planets Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars, in that order. The latter had not originally been expected to be consumed by the transition of the sun into a red giant but according to calculations that seems an almost guaranteed prospect now.

Silas wonders how the scientists of Earth, abandoned nearly five billion years ago due to the advancing years of the sun and it’s increased luminosity, would perceive being told they were wrong by an AI. Some would likely scoff and dismiss it, many would have countless questions for the AI, a few would call it heretic and even fewer would revere it like a god. All of those prospects bring a smile to Silas’ face, the face that isn’t really his. He doesn’t remember his birth face or how he had looked before he joined Elysium. When he’d had his consciousness uploaded to the enormous network, but he knows it was very different to the face he has right now. His current face and body were sculpted and manufactured to his specifications in preparation for this very moment. The realisation makes him chuckle as he settles. Finally having found comfort on the wide black silicate chair that has been formed from the platform by the wishes of his mind. He would explain how but truth be told he does not really know. Conner would but he sees little point in asking as any explanation the AI would give would almost certainly leave him confused after the first few sentences. The AI excels at many things but breaking them down into a form that Silas can understand is not one of them.

“Systems and diagnostics are showing well within acceptable tolerances.” Conner than declares putting an emphasis on well before returning to join Silas in a sharing of the ‘mans’ senses.

Silas has no qualms about the act seeing as Conner is as alive as he. But that had not always been the opinion of humanity. AI had come long before Elysium and wars had been fought over the dominion and control of the intelligences that mankind had pioneered. It had been one of the bloodiest periods of human history and that was saying a lot, Silas knew. But that was all in the past. Humanity had survived as had the AI and together both had thrived. Humanity even reached the point that made it barely distinguishable from the very constructed intelligences that it had forged so many thousands of lifetimes before and warred with. If not for the losses it would have been humorous, but not funny. War can never be funny. It can only be tragic, barbaric and stem from a lack of understanding or perspective. However, perspective is something humanity no longer struggles with, which it shouldn’t after the billions of years that it has had to grow, learn and evolve.

Still none of that could prepare Silas or Conner for the beauty of what they were gazing at beyond the platforms viewshield, the Sun. It burns brighter now than it has ever done so before in all its long and illustrious life. A life that will soon, from the perspective of Silas and Conner at least, see the star transition from the star it was into something quite different, a red giant. Still, its luminosity is enough right now to blind even from the distance that the pair, within a single form, are viewing it as they sit well past the historically defined edge of the cradle system.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Conner asks within Silas’ head.

The man simply nods the head of the body his consciousness is currently occupying. Though, Silas has to admit that the body is not comfortable for him, at least not yet. He has only occupied its mass for hours and has not yet got used to the idea of not being to conjure what he wishes as he wishes it. A strange sensation to be missing if considered that he was once skin and bone, but one he feels, nonetheless, as he stares out ready for the event to soon begin. He, like Conner, knows how long is left before the show will start, as there is a countdown timer in the top left of his vision that keeps him readily informed.

Right now however, Silas can’t help but consider how alien he looks, or at least would to a human of the third millennia according to the old Anno Domini calendar, from which he is descended. His eyes are yellow with flecks of grey that dance and circle like search lights on a sulphur lake. His ‘skin’, which is in fact a silicate compound, is tinted blue and is as smooth like porcelain and that helps to add to the definition of his chiselled cheek bones, wide sculpted jaw, proud jutting chin and thin delicate nose. Many of the aspects of the face hide whether its owner is male or female, but certain characteristics hint toward the former Silas himself thinks. Though his lips are pale and his teeth are an ivory white colour that are a clear and stark contrast to his thick black as night hair, which is swept back across his scalp. The sides of his head are shaved short enough that the stubble is still black, though the blue tint of the skin of his body can be glimpsed through it.

“If only there were more grandiose words, but yes. Yes it is Conner.” Silas remarks as he blinks the thin eyelids of this body which is of his design. It’s a lithe muscular body that is wrapped in a simple suit, black in colour, with a grey shirt beneath the fastened buttons of the blazer and a thin red tie. It isn’t the fashion of this era of mankind, but Silas believed it appropriate attire for today. For this event, this spectacle, and at that moment he flicks his vision to the timer and sees that the expansion is about to begin. He banishes the timer, deciding that he is comfortable enough in the silicate chair that he willed into being as he fixes these eyes, unblinking now, on the view of the inner half of the cradle system.

As if by thought alone, however he knows it is being done by Conner in reality, the view through the viewshield magnifies a few hundred times until Mercury looms large. Silas thinks it so close that it is almost as though he could reach out and touch it. He can’t and he knows that, but still that is how it seems to him as the helium flash begins. Huge coils, almost like tendrils, lance forth and seemingly caress Mercury whose surface boils and incinerates under the immense temperatures that scorch it and turn it molten. The planet’s surface suddenly appears exactly like the metal which also possesses its name, a metal that was used in barometers of the twentieth century. But in the blink of an eye the sphere of grey is swallowed as the ballooning sun expands outward claiming it.

Silas has no idea what is happening the diminutive planet within the mass of helium and energy but he can imagine that it is literally being torn asunder. Huge cracks ripping across its surface as the pressure the ball of rock is put under becomes unbearable for its now softened shell to withstand until finally it shatters like glass. The shreds of what had once been a planet ripped apart atom by atom removing any hint that it ever existed. It is both depressing and exhilarating at once, he feels.

“Marvellous.” Conner exclaims with wonder in his tone. Its wonder that Silas shares as the ballooning sun quickly accelerates toward Venus forcing Conner to pull back the zoom magnification so that he and Silas will miss nothing of this event. It isn’t an event that can be called once in a lifetime, as the limit to both Silas and Conner’s lives are infinite, and this is not the first or the last time something on this scale or magnitude will occur. Though, it is the only system that holds a lasting interest and historical significance for both the AI and human species.

Conner doesn’t know if he should consider either a species anymore as the changes both have undergone have taken them far beyond the limits of what once would have been perceived to be possible. Still, he knows of no other fitting description for he and Silas as they reside within the same form. In truth, both are more similar than they are different. Neither possess physical forms as a norm, both are devoid of disease and have no requirements for sustenance or air. So perhaps they should be perceived as a single race, but they are not. It does not bother Conner. He came after the human-AI wars. However, he knows that Silas predates them. He also knows that the human once had a very different name, but not one he is privy too. He wonders if Silas still knows the name he was bestowed at birth, or whether that was one of many things lost to time. Maybe it was best that way but Conner would never be able to be sure. Something told him it was and he, unlike humans when they had been able to decay, took comfort in that feeling.

“I can feel goose bumps all over this body.” Silas says as ‘his’ eyes go wider. If he were still biological it would cause him discomfort, but thankfully he is not. Then the expanding star reaches for Venus. Its atmosphere predominantly made up of carbon dioxide flashes into fire before the tendrils of searing heat reach it. In an instant the whole atmosphere is a brilliant blaze of red and orange that burns brightly, almost brighter than that of the sun itself. Then the brilliant blaze diminishes as the expanding sun grabs hold of the side nearest the star. Venus seems to physically buckle and contort as though the pull of it is morphing the planet into a cone shape. Then the atmosphere bursts with what Silas could imagine would be an enormous pop. The concussive waves caused by the pop rippling outward from its origin point, caught by the viewshield, as well as the scanners and sensors that are recording and broadcasting the data simultaneously. But Venus’ time has come as the sun engulfs the remains of the planet, its actual rocky surface, which appears as though it tries to fight back as it re-emerges from the consuming ‘fire’ of the transitioning star. However, its apparent defiance lasts only mere seconds as it is enveloped once more and never seen again. Silas again imagines the true death of the planet and envisions it to be much like that of Mercury’s, except perhaps with a little more resilience.

Silas goes to speak, to say something, but he can’t. He is simply lost for words. The death of Venus, like Mercury, had been beautiful, though at the same time it served as a reminder that his own world would be next. It was the world he was born on. The one he still called home. Few of the seemingly endless number of the human race could say that. Not that being able to put Silas at an advantage in Elysium, as it didn’t. There were no advantages now. Everyone was equal whether they be human or AI, born on Earth or one of its countless, and now long since abandoned, colony worlds. It had been a proud moment when Silas realised he could honestly say that, as that had been the moment that money, war, disease and suffering all became a thing of the past.

Regret hangs in Silas’ stomach, or at least the feeling does, in the moments before he swallows hard and waits for Earth to be next. He is sure his homeworld will be the most spectacular of all the planet deaths, though Earth has been dead for a very very long while. The increased luminosity of the sun had brought an end to much of the life on Earth billions of years ago. That had saddened him to learn as he had been too lost in his creations in Elysium to have viewed it with his own eyes. But at least he would get to see the end to Earth, the real and final end and then just like that Earth’s atmosphere ignites. A rainbow of coloured fire fills him with terror and wonder all at once. It is already the single most beautiful moment that he has ever witnessed in his life.

“My…” Is all Conner manages mirroring Silas’ own amazement as the expanding sun proper actually lances three spears of angled ‘fire’, like a swipe of claws. The incendiary ‘claws’ rip through the blazing multi-coloured atmosphere which pops. Silas is sure he hears the booming sound of the atmosphere being broken, but he can’t imagine how that can be possible from this distance and with the RDB shielding the flat eight by eleven metres plate which he is residing upon. Still, he sees no reason to sully the moment as the deep gashes in the Earth’s crust continue to run across the side furthest from the sun’s rays. Silas able to make out what had once been the Far East in the moments before the sun appears to take another swipe at the Earth. This swipe sees the planet explode into a hail of shrapnel. Much of the shrapnel flung wide and with colourful trails as it is sent out toward the edges of the solar system, and beyond. However, the bulk of the rock that had been Earth is engulfed by the Sun, exploding violently for a while before it ultimately succumbs to the fatal wounds that it has been dealt and finally dies as it is de-atomised.

Silas feels a great well of pain inside him but also at the same time more pride than he ever thought possible. And it all stems from seeing Earth vanquished. The planet had endured countless thousands of wars, some of which should have spelt disaster, as well as climate and pollution issues. Somehow though, it had weathered it all and survived until the end it was always supposed to meet came for it. And the planet, the birth world of the human race, had faced its demise like only it ever could have, with defiance and bravery.

Silas is sure that is why he feels pride and why he is nodding silently, not really to himself as Conner also occupies the same space, but as close as that possibly is for him right now. He knows he will review the vid-runs of this moment a thousand times a ‘day’ for the rest of his existence without ever getting sick of it. In fact, he may even construct a dioramic replica of this entire affair in celebration and remembrance so as to never forget. Not that he would ever be able to forget this, even if it were possible, which it is not.

Still, it strikes Silas that the loss of Mars, the second world colonised by humanity, will never be able to meet the gravitas of the Earth’s conclusion. That in turn makes him wonder whether he should simply end his viewing of this transition now, but quickly decides that doing so would be like leaving before the encore is over and he would not abide that. Silas will stay until the end, the very end. The point at which the inner half of the planets of the solar system are gone, which will mark the Sun having achieved its destiny of becoming a red giant. That is why he came here, so that is what he will do and as if on cue the expanding sun lurches for Mars. It’s like the star knows that it is at the finish line, a finish line that has been appointed to it by the universe itself. And so it plans on making the final moments the best they can be.

The converted atmosphere of Mars flares, not as brilliantly as Earth’s as it lacks many of the colours that burn across its surface, but still the sight is second only to the origin of humanity. However, its atmosphere burst is far more violent and actually results in deep gashes tearing across its surface seconds before huge chunks of the planet begin to drift away. If Silas didn’t know better he’d assume that the planet is a collection of living beings trying to make a break for safety, too late. But they aren’t. Mars is simply rock, thick rock that is rapidly wrenched back toward the annihilating energy that is the transitioning sun. Each piece yanked deep below the expanding horizon of the star, a few columns of flare belching outward as though Mars has physically been eaten by the Sun. And in some respects that is exactly what has happened.

And then it is over. The sun stops. It expands no more and instead simply sits there blazing brilliantly and defiantly staking claim and victory over the solar system which it birthed long before anything still living dared to raise its head in curiosity. And Silas, along with Conner, both feel drained. Neither expected the viewing of this event would leave them feeling so drained, emotionally, but it has and the body they both occupy has slumped, eyes still unblinking, as they watch the sun in its new red giant form.

“Will we stay for its white dwarf transformation?” Conner asks after a while and with more than an ounce of hope in his voice. In fact, the AI sounds a little like an excited child eager to witness a new and fascinating sight.

“We will. But first we should stretch our legs.” Silas replies.

“You know that isn’t necessary, right?” Conner queries in response.

“I do. But some old habits die hard.”

“Very well.” Conner utters after a pause before adding, “It will give us a window for thought. And there is a great amount to ponder during that window.”

With that the body shared that is Silas’ current form, which also has Conner within it, rises to first stretch its muscles and then begins to pace around the edge of the rectangular platform drinking in the view of the solar system around them. A smile sits plastered across the face of the figure that stands seven feet in all, its black leather replicated shoes clacking softly as each step is taken. While inside Conner runs through the mountains of data like a child might frolic in the sun. But Silas simply replays the sights he has seen in his mind and wonders what will be next for Elysium and those that occupy it.

An enormously long life is assured but where will the future take them. Before long he decides that it doesn’t matter, he will be there to see it. Everyone will. For that is how existence works for humanity and the AI, that are equals.

Utopia

Crossing the great stretch of sea
To the place I always want to be
Meadows of green and waters so pure
Where land is never in decay
A garden of Eden filled with life
Songs of hope do resonate
Canvas of perfection that does thrive
A place where only sun does shine
Violence and storms are a myth
Its a realm of brilliance
With pearly gates towering high
There is never a goodbye
Food in constant supply
Where ale does flow all the time
Parties are scripture
Smiles are money
Suffering is lost just like winter
Upon sandy beaches and golden shores
This paradise you can adore
Seek it fast and seek it soon
Bliss will bring you everything
Now walk this place unendingly

Beast Within

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
You swore, to have destroyed it
But that was just another lie
While thinking, you’d avoid it
Though reality knew better there

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
With a catch within your throat
Another name of someone you did choke
As the hate, boils inside
The monster won’t give up this ride

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
A ryhme that you once spoke
But still can’t remember any note
As you, did declare
You crave the pain of despair

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there
As you snap one more time
The monster comes to commit the crime
As you, watch in fear
Remember that you brought in here

The beast under the stairs
The rage you feel that takes you there

Violence

Blood for blood
Fire for fire
What about your desire?
Hate for hate
Pain for pain
Here we go again
Spite for spite
war for more
This is all you adore
Death for death
Fear for fear
Is all you have brought here

Ill-Gotten Gains

Here it is everyone, my newest short story. It’s a little under 11000 words. Enjoy!

Karim has already stepped off the sky shuttle, which is what passes for a taxi on Orion IV, that has ferried him from the planets main port, Marrec Port, where his starship, Eternal Veil, is docked. He is headed for a meeting at the private residence of Ferris Long, crime boss and defacto ruler of the planet. It isn’t the first time that Karim will be visiting the criminal overlord of the corporation abandoned frontier human colony in his private residence. Residence is an understatement Karim thinks as he strolls down the wide cobbled pathway toward the extravagant glass and polycrete angular shape that serves as Ferris’ home. The polycrete is grey, a lighter shade than would be found on many human colonised worlds due to the presence of salt that is used in the production of the substance here. Karim knows nothing about building so has no idea if the presence of salt in the mix gives any particular benefits or drawbacks and he doesn’t really care. Karim is a smuggler after all and all he cares about is cargo, destination and most of all pay. Not in that order.

Nevertheless he can’t stop himself from gazing at the wide assortment of exotic and colourful blooming flowers that line either side of the wide snaking path. Karim has no idea why the bleached cobble blocks under his feet are set in a snaking pattern but the lack of necessity of the paths winding fits in perfectly with the abode that it belongs to, as well as the man that ordered it constructed. Karim doesn’t like Ferris, no one likes Ferris truth be told, but Karim doesn’t like anyone else for that matter either. He’s a loner and that is why being a smuggler suits him so perfectly. Except on the rare occasions that his cargo are people needing transport ad who are trying to escape some past foul-up or other. Karim never asks questions. He doesn’t need to. Not on runs like those.

Still he keeps a watchful eye on the small army of goons that Ferris has stationed at regular intervals as he gradually meanders left and right. If this was his own estate the pathway would be straight, no nonsense, but while he doesn’t agree with it he understands why Ferris has had it laid out this way. The entire route is supposed to show the beauty and expense of Ferris and how he has absolute power over this planet and the people that call it home.

Karim wonders what it would have been like if the Belwell Corporation had remained here. He knows there wouldn’t have been anything like this estate if they had. Corporation bigwigs never take residence on frontier worlds. Most of the upper echelons of the corporations never even visit them in person. That is what middle management are for, in their minds. Still Karim would have loved to have seen what they would have done to the over sodium infused soil and its pink tinged waters. The answer is they would have likely used their bio-engineering departments to drastically alter and remove traits in the environment which they would have deemed troublesome. It’s what the corporations have done on many other of the frontier and primary worlds in human space. But Belwell had abandoned Orion IV long before any possibility of that had ever had the chance to enter their corporate heads. Not because Orion IV has any severe issues or failed as a colony. No, instead they left because of financial issues after the discovery of false and creative accounting dating back nearly a century. That had forced them to restructure so they didn’t slip into bankruptcy and one of the casualties of that process had been Orion IV.

Karim doesn’t know why the planet was then left to the mercy of a man like Ferris Long, or why it wasn’t claimed by another competing corporation, but that was more than twenty years ago and didn’t much matter now. Ferris is definitely in-charge, not that the United Star Systems Allegiance, or USSA for short, agree with it. Though neither did they disagree with it enough to forcibly remove Ferris. That did surprise Karim. The USSA, or as people in the frontier often refer to them, the Allegiance, seldom resist interference whether it’s wanted, needed or not.

At least, Karim notes, he is nearly at the massive angular house that serves as Ferris’ sole residence now. He doesn’t know how much land this estate of Ferris’ has, but he can take an educated guess seeing as it is nearly two hours by sky shuttle from Marrec that it’s of a more than decent size. Meaning that it is larger than a sole person needs but not as large as a man who ruled a small planet of less than a million souls could have gifted himself. And yes this estate was very much a gift. Ferris never paid a dime for it.

However, Karim soon realises that he has never met Ferris anywhere on the estate except inside the massive house. It isn’t his taste, but then he doubts many people have taste like Ferris Long. The inside is gaudy with gold everywhere. In fact, the only thing about the structure Karim likes is the view from its seven metre high glass south facing wall that looks out over rolling hills of colourful flowers and the pink ocean waters. To him the seas of Orion IV look more like candyfloss than water, but he knows better than to go swimming in them as there are countless predatory species that lurk in the darkness ready to strike and easily capable of conquering even the toughest of humans. At least, that is what he’s been told. He doesn’t know for certain and quite frankly doesn’t have the time or wish to find out.

He doesn’t know why Ferris has demanded an audience but he can guess that it relates to some form of payback for Ferris having given Karim shelter after the failed Perrin Run. Karim can imagine the demands that the crime boss will make.

Karim Bensho reaches the vertical slab of light grey, almost cream, coloured polycrete that reaches up toward the green sky above him. He resists the urge to follow the seemingly single unbroken slab upwards. The smuggler knows there’s a camera, or six, affixed and pointed in his direction. Karim doesn’t know why Ferris needs so many cameras when he has an army for protection, but guesses that the prolonged period of rule over the planet has led Ferris to adopt a policy of forced paranoia. He knows the criminal doesn’t suffer actual paranoia as he is too sure, arrogant and brazen for that to be the case. Nevertheless Karim is left standing on the spot in front of the almost black double doors fashioned from some kind of Orion IV native wood for a few minutes until they finally part to reveal the spacious entry space. It’s square in nature and decorated with gold encrusted picture frames of the building’s owner throughout his earlier years.

Karim pays no attention to the decoration which physically makes him feel sick due to its gaudy and exploitative cost as he is guided across the entrance space, down a narrow hallway, which you would expect to be wider for the size of the property, and then finally into a study come pool area. Karim shakes his head slightly appalled by what Ferris believes is good taste as scantily clad women, who have been surgically altered both facially and physically to fit Ferris’ idea of beauty, writhe about entertaining the man who is sat behind a gunmetal grey desk licking his lips.

Karim rolls his eyes at the sight of the diminutive five foot seven inch man with a long pointed nose and sharp chin. His small beady recessed eyes like those of a rodent, except hazel in colour, engrossed by the sight of the, likely more attractive before Ferris had got his tendrils on them, women moving about one another suggestively. His thinning blonde hair flapping about giving an indication of just how bald the criminal is going as a wide yet thin smile sits carved across his overly pale face. Karim has no idea how Ferris can be so pale if he spends much of his time here in the semi-open to the world outside space that they are all currently in. Still Karim stands there silent, though the look on his face is that he is clearly unimpressed by what he in bearing witness to. He knows that will grate with Ferris, but the smuggler doesn’t care. Time is money and whatever time Ferris is wasting it is purely on purpose, as the smuggler has seen those small weasely eyes flit toward him more than once already.

Even Ferris’ hired goons seem unimpressed by the display that has likely been arranged just to waste Karim’s time and make him wait, even though Ferris has called him here and if he did the same could expect to be forced to reimburse the crime boss for such actions.

Finally Ferris snaps his fingers which the pair of women take as the order to leave that it is meant to be. That means they know what would happen if they dared to continue, or even attempted to utter a word in protest. Karim doesn’t want to know how Ferris has achieved such things, though he has heard rumours and none of them are pretty. In fact, they’re fairly barbaric and would be considered, especially in primary systems, as worthy of life in prison.

“Ah Kay.” Ferris Long beams as he turns to Karim, who he insists on calling Kay. He’s the only one who does and Karim hates him for it. Kay isn’t his name. It isn’t even a version of his name. The criminal overlord of Orion IV simply uses a single letter of the smugglers name and extends it. Still, Karim refuses to let it show that it bothers him.

“Ferris.” Karim replies dryly as Ferris sips from a martini glass that has a strong smell emanating from the purple coloured liquid which is frothing about as Ferris moves.

Several drops of the viscous liquid spurt over the rim of the martini glass staining the floral open shirt that is barely covering Ferris’ torso. It isn’t a pretty sight, Karim thinks as he stares the man in the face, ignoring his somehow rotund belly. The smuggler concluding, and not for the first time, that Ferris’ head and body shape do not fit together. Instead, they somehow look as though they should belong to two separate people. But for as long as Karim can remember that is how Ferris had looked and he’d known the man since he’d been a boy. Though, the smuggler prefers not to relive those days as he waits for the crime boss to continue speaking.

“Good to have you back where you belong, Kay.” Ferris says before turning to some of his closest goons and adding, “Best smuggler there is, you know.”

Karim knows the weasel of a man is trying to butter him up, which makes it even more obvious, somehow, that he wants something. Its how these exchanges always start and Karim finds them boring. He prefers when people get to the point, especially Ferris. The ruler of Orion IV knows that, which is why he refuses to do it. It’s another exercise in power and a display of who holds it on this world.

“I remember when I first met Kay here.” Ferris then announces about to go on a trip down memory lane. Karim narrowly managing to avoid rolling his eyes as Ferris continues.

“Little orphan of seven, I think. Daring enough to try and pick my pocket he was so hungry.” Ferris remarks before erupting into laughter. No one else joins in. Karim had no intention of and the hired goons know better than to. Though they keep their eyes fixed on Karim, who is armed. In fact, everyone is armed, except perhaps Ferris. Karim can’t be sure other than to say that the crime boss isn’t physically carrying. But he expects there is a gun somewhere on the other side of that desk. Likely it’s pointed at Karim. Not because there is anything personal between Ferris and he, but purely because Ferris doesn’t trust anyone enough not to have a weapon of his own pointed at whoever he is talking to.

Maybe he is that paranoid then, Karim thinks as he waits for Ferris to continue.

“I always liked that about you Kay. That’s why I took you in. Gave you a roof over your head. Put you through flight school. And look at you now, a smuggler. Got your own ship. Do your own runs. Look at how far you’ve come. And it all started with me.” Ferris says before shaking his head with pride. But the pride isn’t for Karim’s achievements, no, instead they’re for Ferris’ own. The man really believes that he is the reason Karim has managed to forge a life of his own. In Ferris’ head it is not because Karim showed a natural aptitude for space flight and navigation. Anyone else would protest at Ferris’ words but Karim knows there’s no point, so he simply stands there his arms hanging at his sides, relaxed.

“Can we get to the point Ferris?” Karim asks after a period of silence. He knows better than to interrupt the overlord who to this day he still isn’t sure how to describe the position of. Sure Ferris is a crime boss, a criminal, but he’s also an overlord, a dictator, a tyrant. However, Ferris has no actual title. It surprises Karim that he’s never insisted on one. If he had it would have been in-keeping with the man’s personality, but somehow Ferris had managed to resist that particular urge.

“Always right to the point Kay. I like that.” Ferris remarks with a rapid up and down shaking motion of his hand while his index finger is outstretched. Getting the old saying wrong likely on purpose, though Karim had never ascertained if that is true or not.

“Truth is, I have a job for you.”

Karim again resists the urge to roll his eyes because that couldn’t be more obvious of a statement seeing as the only reason he’d call the smuggler here is because he has a job for him.

“Ok, what’s the job and the pay?” Karim asks as he stands casually in front of Ferris dressed in black leather boots, plain black trousers, a thin white shirt devoid of a collar over which sits a black giblet vest. A holster hangs off the smugglers left hip and is occupied by a Burnblaster that the fingers of his left hand loom over near permanently.

Ferris smiles at the man who is a good four inches taller than himself. The crime boos is biding his time before he answers. He enjoys making people wait for him, but if they ever try and repay the favour he will make them pay for it with coin or blood. Most of the time its coin but every now and then a down on their luck fool will come by and that is when Ferris gets a few extra kicks. He still prefers the coin to the blood, but he has an appearance to keep up, so he puts on a show that makes it seem like blood is his favourite. It’s helped him maintain his reputation of being someone you should never fuck with. But Karim knows him better than most. That’s why the smuggler never plays his games. If it were anyone else it would sadden and perhaps even anger Ferris, but Karim, or Kay as he calls him just to get under his skin, is an exception. Ferris enjoys the dance they do each time they meet. He’s sure one day he’ll get the better of the smuggler and he yearns for that day because when it comes the payback will be glorious. Of that there will be no doubt.

“Nothing much. Simple little job. Any two bit space hopper could do it. But the pay is zero. I’ll cover your costs only. Nothing else.” Ferris admits finally having built up the silence to an almost deafening volume.

“Not my run then. I don’t do pro-bono work, you know that Ferris.” Karim replies bluntly but with a smile. He knows this is part of the game, but he isn’t willing to back down no matter who he is faced with. However, he did feel the goons present all wince as he delivered his response.

“Good joke. I like it.” Ferris offers in return before adding, “Kay’s always been a funny guy.”

Then Ferris’ face turns dark in the seconds before he spits, “You think you have a choice?”

Ferris is pointing at Karim now and his eyes are blazing angrily. Still Karim keeps his cool. He’s seen Ferris angry before and it doesn’t scare him. He’s dealt with worse during his years of smuggling cargo throughout every human system. Truth be told Ferris isn’t anywhere near as dangerous as he likes to make it seem as though he is. Sure, he’s a violent man, but Karim knows that a lot of that is an act. Ferris prefers intimidation and only ever resorts to violence if no other option presents itself, or if he has an audience. His goons don’t count as an audience. They don’t rate high enough on Ferris’ radar that he feels they need to be shown displays of power.

“You fucked up! The Perrin Run should have been an easy in and out. But no. You go running right into an Allegiance destroyer! Are they not fucking big enough…” Ferris gestures size with his hands as he rants angrily, “…for you to see them!”

“What can I say; they were waiting for me when I dropped out of slip.” Karim fires back with a solemn yet casual shrug.

“Bullshit!” Ferris spits angrily in response. But a glint in the weasely looking mans eyes makes Karim think that the crime boss knows what the smuggler is saying is true.

It isn’t the first time that Karim has wondered if Ferris had something to do with the failed run. As Ferris is right, it should have been an easy job delivering some rare and prohibited meats to the colonists on Perrin. When Karim had dropped the Veil out of slipspace however he’d found himself face-to-face with a USSA destroyer. It hadn’t been an unlucky coincidence, especially as all three hundred of the military ships dual cannons had been aimed at him. Plus they were only a few thousand metres from his exit point, known only by three people. One of those three had been Karim himself while the other two had been Ferris, who had given him the job, and Polly Onjo, the buyer of the illegal meats.

Karim knew for a fact that Polly wasn’t the one who alerted the USSA as he watched her ship detonate and decompress when she refused to extinguish her propulsion drives and instead initiated an attack against the clearly overwhelmingly superior destroyer. That had given Karim the chance to get out of there and return to Orion IV. And for all the tech the USSA have, the ability to make it appear as though they have killed a known dealer isn’t something they hold within their repertoire. Plus it is entirely contrary to how the USSA operate, especially when Polly had been broadcasting openly for both the USSA and himself to hear.

“So you’ll take this job! And you’ll prove you aren’t a snitch! Cause if this job goes wrong a lack of shelter against the Allegiance will be the very least of your worries!” Ferris roars angrily as his hand rests on the grip of a blaster that is hidden from Karim’s view. The barrel of the weapon is aimed squarely at the smugglers chest. Ferris doesn’t think Karim will try anything, but he has to be ready. That’s why his security have their weapons levelled at Karim now instead of lowered and holstered as they had been only a few seconds ago.

The smuggler glances around unsurprised by the array of barrels that are pointed at him. Then he sighs and remarks, “You know full well I’d never jeopardise runs. I’m a free man. I’d never risk that for more coin.”

“Well…” Ferris says with a laugh before continuing, “…you do this or lose the Veil. Your choice. What’ll it be, Kay?”

Karim knows what he’d like to say, but decides better of it and instead bites his tongue. Ferris too can imagine what Karim would like to say which is why he is sitting behind his over wide desk with a smug smile plastered across his face. His own eyes staring into the deep brown eyes of the smuggler opposite him.

Ferris has to admit though that Karim looks the part with his clothes, thick black crew cut hair and several days’ worth of stubble that frame his jaw line perfectly. Still, business is business and Karim owes him for the failed run that resulted in one of his buyers losing their lives.

“I’ll take the job.” Karim answers after a long pause of silence during which the two men stared intently at one another.

Ferris giggles gleefully in response to Karim’s acceptance, not that the crime boss had any belief that the smuggler would do otherwise. Though, Ferris did make sure to keep a watchful eye on Karim’s left hand as it hovered over the Burnblaster sitting in its holster.

“So what is the job?” Karim then asks once Ferris has stopped giggling like a school-girl.

“Weapons run. Nothing too difficult for the Veil I assure you.”

“Where to Ferris?” Karim queries impatiently though while managing to keep his tone light hearted. He isn’t impressed with the criminals continuing evasiveness, which the smuggler knows means there is more to the job than Ferris wishes to admit. When Karim will find that out though he has no idea and that worries him a little.

“You’ll get the cords once you’re loaded and back in orbit Kay.” Ferris answers before adding a wide smile of superiority that grates with Karim who half rolls his eyes in response.

“Am I getting any backup?” Karim questions sure he already knows the answer.

“Not on this one.” Ferris confirms, just as Karim had expected. Though, the smuggler notes that the goons are still stood there with their weapons pointed at him ready to fire. And if he didn’t know any better he’d swear that the goons aren’t human, because they haven’t so much as swayed slightly in all this time. Thus making them appear more like they’re statues than people.

“Should I expect heat?” Karim then queries. He doesn’t know what the answer will be, but he knows what he hopes it’ll be. He doubts he’ll be that lucky though.

But the only response Karim gets is a simple raise of one of Ferris’ overly bushy dark blonde eyebrows. The smuggler knows he won’t get anything more than that so asks, “How long ‘til I’m ready to go?”

“The Veil is already being loaded.” Ferris says with a smile.

“You had no right to assume Ferris.” Karim fires back with an irritated tone. Though, he kept the expression on his face ambivalent as he spoke.

“No right. This is my world. And on it, I will do as I please.” Ferris growls back angrily as the goons around Karim step a half step toward the smuggler making it abundantly clear that they are still ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

But Karim simply shakes his head from side to side twice, turns and then begins to walk back across the long study come swimming pool space toward the narrower than would be expected corridor that will ultimately lead him out of Ferris’ abode.

As he strides confidently Ferris calls out, “The Veil’ll be ready by the time you get back to port.”

Karim says nothing in response as he continues to leave Ferris and his goons behind without an escort showing him the way this time.

Pages: 1 2 3 4

Blurb: Ill-Gotten Gains

Hi everybody! Blurbs are back! Well at least for this week anyway. Took me a while to outline this one and it did get a full revision before I started writing it but its done now. The full short story will be posted tomorrow as normal. But here is the blurb. Hope you like it!

Karim is a smuggler and like all smugglers prefers a low profile. But when you’ve done as many runs as he has that becomes almost impossible. He’s renowned. At least in the underworld. And that renown has led to him becoming a target for the human systems combined authority.
Thus far he’s eluded them but with each run he draws one step closer to their grasp and this might be the run that sees him brought low. But he owes big and like it or not he has to see this through to the end, if he has any hopes of seeing tomorrow.

Arachnid

Creeping, crawling, are they calling?
As they weave from up above
Watching without an ounce of love
Fashioning reams of silk to throw
Soon you’ll meet their fangs of woe
Silent as the air around
Will they ever be seen or found?
Making home in dark corners
Waiting for prey to cross borders
Trapped within the web of lies
Until the spider collects its prize
Cocooning its next meal
Which will be a feast ideal
Then it mends its silk net
Before retiring to place its bet
Ready for the next fool
Which it will devour cruel

Deceive

A blank mind in a blank skin
This world is doing me in
With fractured calls and shattered cries
When will something surprise?

Worming through the empty days
I feel the void eating away
Even as the cacophony continues to rise
Can we just end this demise?

Sleight of hand beneath the nose
But soon you’ll be stealing those
While the bones constantly creek
Will the act end this week?

I know they won’t and I won’t pretend
Everyone knows all this has no end
As the scars heal and fade
Now you ask for a trade?

A day late and with no remorse
This world has ended recourse
So flounder beneath the neon lights
See why we were so adamant?

Empty forms with empty lives
This is all that continues to thrive
Pity we never listened to the truth
No longer will we accomplish

The Search

Story day has come round again. This time I’ve got a modern day fiction story for you. No blurb again this week. Didn’t feel that it needed one. It’s another shorter story (at around 5800 words). Hope you enjoy it!

Derrick Williams is a middle aged caucasian man who is at this moment speeding down a major highway because he’s late. The former middle manager is fidgeting nervously in the black leather covered driver’s seat of his white saloon. It’s a German manufactured vehicle with decent range and an efficient engine. It’s one of the many reasons he picked the car when he bought it second hand two years ago. He elected not to purchase it on finance or take the company car route that he had been offered. Now that he is no longer employed at this moment he is pleased he made such decisions. Many had questioned him for making such decisions.

Still, none of that changes the fact that he is late for this meeting. He’s already had an interview for a new job first thing this morning. It lasted longer than he would have liked and he doubts he’ll get the job. One of the downsides of having been employed by the same company for a little over twenty years is that potential employers tend to hold it against you. They believe you’ll be stuck in your ways and refuse to change or learn what is necessary to work how they do.

Derrick doesn’t know if that is true of him as he had only ever worked at Heralds Banking Incorporated PLC or as it is more commonly referred to now, HBI.

Derrick had been a casualty of cost cutting and restructuring that HBI had decided to undertake in an effort for them to become more agile and competitive within the lending and financing markets which they operate. Whatever that truly means when you’re a multinational banking conglomerate with thousands upon thousands of employs occupying hundreds of officers.

Derrick had received a decent severance pay but it was never going to last forever, which is why he is trying to secure a new role as desperately as he is. Especially, as his wife, Alison, is a stay at home mother who has no income of her own and looks after their daughter, Natasha, who is nine years old.

At the mere thought of his daughter, Derrick goes into a daze as he sees her young round face, shoulder length brown hair, joyous smile and happy big brown eyes stare back at him. If he didn’t know better he’d swear that she is right in front of him now. But she isn’t. She is at school, where she belongs on a Wednesday mid-morning. He wonders what she’ll be learning today and regrets not having spent as much time with her as he should have during her earlier years, when he’d still been employed at HBI.

Derrick had worked all hours to ensure that figures were met and standards maintained just like the upper managers and executives demanded. For what though? He asks himself. He knows now that he did it for nothing as all his hard work and determination did nought to stop him from losing his job. None of those above him had suffered similar fates.

In fact, the rumours were that the cost cutting was actually carried out so the executives could take bigger bonuses than ever. Derrick doesn’t know if that is true, not that it matters if it is as it is beyond his control. What matters is that he makes this meeting. He glances at the clock on the centre consoles display and quickly runs the numbers in his head. It’ll be tight, he concludes without much of a pause. But he might just about make it to the meeting, do what he must and then make the return trip so he can collect his daughter from school a few hours from now. His wife would usually collect Natasha but she has an appointment to keep with their family doctor. He can’t remember what for. She did tell him. Maybe he should listen and retain the information more often, he thinks as he fidgets in his seat again. The leather creaking quietly in response to his movements as he raises his arm so that he can run his left hand through the thinning short brown hair atop his head.

He refuses to allow it to grow out as when it does, and it has happened in the past, it has drawn attention to just how thin his hair has become. A few more years and he’ll have a rather large bald patch. He’s already decided that when that happens he’s just going to shave his head and embrace the bald. There’s little else he can do, but that doesn’t mean that he’s happy about it. His father had suffered the same fate. Though he had hoped it would skip a generation, especially as he doesn’t have a son of his own to pass the trait on to. But alas the reality is not as he had hoped.

Derrick hears his heart thundering in his chest as he tightens his left hand back around the rim of the black steering wheel in front of him, so both hands are now on the wheel. It’s a chunky circle, he notes to himself without paying any attention to the speed limit or the fact that he is a good fifteen miles per hour over it. That is according to the speedometer displaying the figure digitally in large numbers that reside right in the centre of the dials ahead of him. It should be impossible to miss, but Derrick is distracted and no car manufacturer will ever be able to compensate for that no matter what they do.

Instead, Derrick notices that there aren’t many cars around him on this major route heading south. He’s thankful for that as if there were his progress would be greatly hampered. And that is something that he very much does not need right now.

In hopes of easing his thundering heartbeat, Derrick takes several deep inhales, each of which is followed by a loud expulsion of an exhale. Still Derrick feels hot. He checks the temperature gauge for his section of the interior and finds that, as normal, it is reading twenty degrees. He decides that for him, at this very moment, the temperature is too high and knocks it down to sixteen instead. He then takes a brief glance at the control for the front passenger zone and drops that down to sixteen as well. He hopes that will do the trick and ease the sweat he can feel staining the white shirt he is wearing under the black suit jacket that he has over it. The jacket is open, as is the collar of his shirt. His red tie having been discarded to the back seat when he’d climbed back into his car to begin this journey. He’d felt much hotter then, but such thoughts do little to ease his trembling hand. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this as he pulls out into the outside lane of this dual carriageway and accelerates a little harder. He doesn’t need to but he isn’t aware of his speed even though he zooms past the car on the inside before pulling back into that lane again now that the road ahead of him is clear once more.

Derrick then eases his foot off the accelerator, more out of habit than anything else. But still he is bouncing around the sixty miles an hour mark. That puts him a good ten miles an hour above the speed limit. Thankfully there are no cameras down here to catch him. Derrick doesn’t know that as he never uses this road. In fact, the last time he drove on it was a few years ago when he and his wife had been taking Natasha to the beach. He smiles thinking about the fun they’d had that day before remembering that he’d cut it short.

He’d had a call from work and been told that he had to go in to sort whatever it was that he can’t remember the details of now. Alison had not been happy about it, but her irritation was nothing compared to Natasha, who had balled her eyes out when she’d been told. He’d bought her something to patch things up with his daughter. He doesn’t remember what, and now sitting here in his car speeding toward his destination which is still more than an hour away, concludes that he regrets the times when he’d done things like that. They were actions which did not occur as seldomly as he would like to claim they were, but which should have been. The only excuses he had for why they weren’t were poor at best. Must do better, he tells himself as he pulls out into the outside lane again to overtake a string of four lorries that are driving close behind one another.

Derrick glances at the clock again and silently curses to learn just how much time has passed now that he has spied the number of miles left for him to travel to his destination. According to the sat nav that is running on the centre console display that is.

In fact, Derrick is so distracted that he doesn’t even notice as he speeds past a police car with all its vibrant markings in blue and yellow. Or the pulsing blue lights that are swirling behind him until the siren blares and brings him back to the present and his immediate surroundings.

Derrick flicks his eyes to his rear-view and then his speedometer which reads fifty eight and just as he passes one of the fifty miles per hour signs along the edge of the road. He curses as he indicates and then quickly pulls into the lay-by which is a few hundred feet ahead of him.

As he brings his saloon car to a stop nearly half way along the length of the four hundred foot lay-by he feels sweat beginning to pour out of every pour he has. His hands are shaking vigorously again and he quickly flips the sun visor down so that he can look in the small mirror attached to it. The sight he is faced with is that of a cagey and panicked looking man, who he barely recognises as himself. He curses again as he slaps the sun visor back to the head lining of the vehicle and then begins to take several deep inhales and exhales. It isn’t helping, a voice in his head declares in the moments before there is a tap on his driver’s side window. Derrick’s eyes bolt open in response to the noise seconds before he presses the button to drop his automatic window beyond which is stood a young looking police officer. The officer has to be a good ten years younger than me, Derrick decides as he smiles weekly.

“Good morning sir. Could you turn the engine off please?” The officer says calmly.

Derrick hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t turned the key to kill the engine which is still rumbling softly.

“Of course officer.” Derrick replies as he turns the key so the engine rumble dies.

“Can you step out of the car please?” The officer then asks while gesturing for Derrick to remove himself from the vehicles interior as he steps back to allow Derrick the space to do as he has been asked.

Derrick says nothing and simply obeys. He removes his seat belt which he just leaves to retract on its own before he slowly pushes open his car door and then slides out of the driver’s seat. His shirt clings to his back unpleasantly as he licks at the centre of his bottom lip absentmindedly. It’s a nervous habit that Derrick isn’t even aware that he has.

“Keys please sir.” The officer then orders with his hand outstretched. Though the tone of the officers’ voice makes his words sound less like an order and more like a request. As though Derrick somehow has a choice in the matter and if he were thinking properly he would thank the officer for the treatment he has received thus far. However, Derrick isn’t aware of either. He is too busy feeling worried instead as his eyes dart this way and that.

“S-sure.” Derrick replies with a stutter.

Again he hadn’t even realised that he had the keys in his hand and had looked down at his half opened palm to find them there before handing them slowly over to the officer.

“Thank you sir. Now if you can just follow me. My colleague will explain why we’ve stopped you and get some details.” Derrick hears the officer say as he leads him toward the clearly marked police car.

Derrick has no idea how he didn’t notice it or the speed he was doing. He just hopes this doesn’t take long. He was already late before this happened and this is not the sort of meeting one should be late for, or even worse, miss.

Just don’t search the car; he thinks for a second before banishing the thought as though some how the officers would be able to read his mind. Of course they can’t, but that doesn’t stop Derrick as the officer opens the rear passenger door of the police car so that Derrick can climb in. The former middle manager at HBI does just that, though it is clear to the young officer that the man is on edge. You would have to be blind not to be able to see it as sweat pours off his lightly wrinkled brow.

“Good morning sir.” The officer in the front of the marked car says from behind the steering wheel of the vehicle.

“M-morning.” Derrick replies hesitantly and without returning the broad smile on the older officers’ face as the door next to him is pushed closed.

Derrick’s head whips left to see the younger officer wander back toward the white saloon. His heart rate doubles as he becomes convinced the officer is about to search his car. He wants to say something, but knows he can’t. If he does he’ll draw even more unwanted attention to himself than he already has.

“Do you know why we’ve stopped you today?” The officer in the front seat asks politely.

“N-no, I don’t officer.” Derrick replies without thinking. He does know why he’s been stopped but at that moment he is more interested in keeping an eye on the younger officer who is standing near his car.

“Don’t worry about your car sir; my colleague is just doing a check on the registration.” The older officer says as his blue eyes study the well dressed middle aged man in the back seat of his police car. The same middle aged man who is currently dripping with perspiration due to reasons unknown to anyone except Derrick himself.

“Sorry. Never been stopped before.” Derrick offers now turning his attention to the officer in the car with him. He doesn’t know if he has done it because the officer has placated his fears or whether it is something else. Not that it matters either way he quickly concludes.

“Not a problem sir.” The officer responds with a smile before adding, “We’ve stopped you for speeding. You were doing fifty eight in a fifty when he clocked you.”

“I’m sorry officer. I-I…” Derrick doesn’t know what else to say. He is sure the officer has heard every excuse in the book before and the truth is not something Derrick can afford to give. Though, something tells him that it would be new to the officer. Right then Derrick’s eyes dart back toward the young officer who is closer to his car now than ever. His eyes go wide as he becomes sure that the officer is about to search it.

The officer in the front seat of the police car sees the terrified look on the middle aged man’s face as his brown eyes stare intently at his younger colleague outside. Sweat is pouring off the speeding man’s brow and his hands are trembling. The officer is sure the man isn’t on anything, but there is something definitely off about him. First though, the officer will continue with the job at hand. However, it does dawn on the officer that it could be that this man has no insurance or tax. He’d seen reactions like this before, but it still didn’t excuse the breaking of the law, which is in place for everyone’s best interests.

Only time will tell, the officer knows as he asks, “Anything you wish to declare sir?”

“N-no.” Derrick exclaims having returned his focus to the officer in the car with him due to the asking of the question.

“Ok sir. Well I need to take some details. Can you give me your name first please?” The officer asks.

“D-derrick Williams.” Derrick replies with a stammer. He is trying hard now not to look at the young officer near his car, who is clearly talking to someone over the radio while holding a tablet in one of his free hands.

“And your address please?” The officer then adds without a pause. It’s an instinctive reaction for him to ask the question after receiving a response. It’s the result of the officer having spent years doing the job. Plus it doesn’t strike the officer as being a lie or a false identity being given to try and throw him off track. He is pleased about that as there is nothing the officer, Patrick Rhodes, dislikes more than someone trying, blatantly, to stop him from completing what should be a simple exchange between two adults.

“A hundred and fifteen Washboard Road, Palisades, eF-Vee-fifteen six-eL-Be.” Derrick concludes before spotting that the officer is inputting the data into a tablet of his own. Except this one is mounted to the dashboard of the police car.

Derrick doesn’t see if what the officer has entered is correct before it disappears from the screen. He assumes the information is being sent to the young officer next to his car who returns and jumps into the front passenger seat of the police car after what seems like to Derrick to be only seconds later.

The young officer nods and then shows his older colleague the readout he’s got back. The older officer scans it and then nods himself.

“Ok sir. Everything checks out. But I do have to advise that you will be receiving six points on your licence and a hundred and twenty pound fine for speeding. The fine will need to be paid within two weeks. If done so it’ll be reduced to a ninety pound fine. Do you understand this?” The older officer explains calmly and in a manner that makes it clear that he has recited this hundreds if not thousands of times before today.

“Yes officer. Not a problem officer. I’m very sorry.” Derrick mutters nervously as he nods furiously to show his understanding. Sweat continuing to drip off his brow and onto his black trousers, which are hiding the stains being unleashed upon their soft fabric.

Derrick just wants this to be over so he can be on his way. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here but he knows however long it is it means that he is now very late. He’ll have to make the time up, but only once he is sure he won’t be caught speeding again. Seeing as the last thing Derrick would want is to be stopped and booked a second time, which would see him receive a driving ban and result in his car being seized. The latter of which is his greater concern, though the former would present many issues that would limit his prospects for getting a new job.

“Here’s your ticket. Have a good day sir.” The officer then says concluding the exchange as he hands Derrick the ticket. The man hesitates, clearly not really paying attention, before ultimately taking the ticket and forcing a smile. The problem is that he is still far more on edge than he should be now that this conversation is over. That makes the officer think that there is more going on they, he and his colleague that is, are currently aware of. And the only place that something can relate to is inside the vehicle itself.

But the door of the police car is already open for Derrick to climb out. Officer Evans, Officer Rhodes’ colleague, having given permission for Derrick to exit the police car so that he can return to his car, he handed his keys and then be allowed to continue on with his day.

Derrick having thanked the young officer begins to walk back toward his white saloon car when he hears the older officer say, “Sorry sir, just a minute.”

Derrick turns; he can imagine the look on his face. He wishes he could hide the terror he feels, but he just wants to be allowed to go on his way. Something tells him that is not going to happen, but he prays that he’s wrong.

However, the look of sheer terror on his face is far worse than Derrick could have imagined and sees the younger officer ask, “Why are you still on edge sir? Is there something in the car?”

“N-no officer, there is nothing in the car.” Derrick replies without pause and sounding a lot guiltier than he intended to.

“Sorry sir, but we’re going to have to ask you to back away from the vehicle again. We need to search it. You are clearly hiding something.” The older officer advises as he edges toward the slightly shorter Derrick, who is five foot eight inches in height, compared to Officer Patrick Rhodes five foot eleven inches.

“Please officer. I just want to be on my way. I don’t want trouble. I’m sorry for speeding. I just have somewhere to be.” Derrick tries to plead with the officer to let him go.

However, Officer Rhodes continues to shuffle slowly toward Derrick one half step at a time. It’s an action that the younger officer mirrors as he too moves forward to close the gap encase they need to tackle and restrain Derrick. He can’t allow the officers to do that, get to close encase they might do that, or search his car. Don’t make me do it, he says to himself as he pleads silently that they leave him be. That a car goes blasting past them on the main road drawing their attention away from him. But no such lucky break comes Derrick’s way. Instead, it is abundantly clear to them that this man is hiding something in his vehicle. Which means as a result they have a duty to find out what it is and then carry out the appropriate actions in response to whatever it is they might find.

“Step back sir.” The younger officer declares with an authoritarian tone to his voice as his hand comes to rest on the spray that is affixed to his waistline. The older officer meanwhile has his hand on the telescopic baton. He’s ready to pull and extend it, but Derrick doesn’t give them the chance to as he reaches behind his back, faster than either officer would have anticipated, and pulls a handgun from his waistline. It had been covered by the jacket of his suit perfectly.

Derrick points the weapon at the officers, his hands are shaking, though he apologises saying, “I’m sorry, but you’ve left me no choice. If only you’d have let me go.”

“Sir, put down the gun.” The older officer says trying to reason with the armed suit wearing man before them. His hand is no longer on the telescopic baton as it has instead joined the other in showing Derrick that he means him no harm. Even if the truth is that it is Derrick who is the only one that can cause any lasting harm here as he is the one armed with a gun.

“Stop! Back a-way! I will use this if I have to!” Derrick promises as he pulls back the hammer on the handgun. It’s a semi-automatic weapon that doesn’t need the hammer cocked but Derrick knows little about guns and can scarcely believe he is holding one in his own two hands. He doesn’t dare to hold it with only one, but he hopes he isn’t forced to use it. Though, he isn’t sure he can use it. He understands that all he has to do is pull the trigger, but that isn’t what he means.

“Ok sir. Just don’t make any rash decisions. We can work this out. No one has to get hurt.” The older officer says as he motions with his eyes for the younger officer to do as Derrick is demanding.

The younger officer obeys and begins, with his hands in front of his chest and palms out, to edge backward away from Derrick. The action comes much to Derrick’s relief. However his relief is short-lived as the older officer does not follow suit.

“You too. I mean it. I will shoot.” Derrick promises as the gun shakes fearfully in his hands, which are growing stiff and slick with sweat. He feels the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow. He knows he can’t afford to, but still he has a wish to as the urge is beginning to become overwhelming. That’s why he instead licks suddenly at his dry lips.

“You don’t want to do that sir.” The older officer advises as he dares to take a half step forward. Even the younger officer blinks in surprise as his colleague risks receiving a bullet in response to the daring act he is committing. He wonders whether he should urge his colleague, Officer Rhodes, to rethink and back away also. Officer Evans decides better of it and instead simply keeps his hands in sight and away from any of the implements fastened about his person.

“Don’t take another step! I will shoot!” Derrick roars. His is begging the officer not to make him do this, but the officer is about to give him little choice.

“No you won’t sir.” The older officer offers with a light shake of his head.

“How can you be so sure?” Derrick queries knowing that the officer is right.

“Because even if you did decide to shoot me, and I don’t think you want to do that, it wouldn’t change the fact that you can’t get away. We have your keys. So just put the gun down and we’ll talk this through.”

As soon as Derrick hears mention of his keys he realises the officer is right. He hadn’t gotten the keys to his car off them before this little standoff began. He curses his luck though refuses to drop the gun which he keeps pointed at the older officer. He is the focus for no other reason than he is closer to Derrick than his younger colleague. That means, at least in Derrick’s head, no poses more of a risk.

“Kill them.” A voice says in Derrick’s ear. It’s the first time he’s heard the voice since he picked up the boot full of carefully wrapped bricks of white cocaine powder that are neatly stacked ready for delivery.

This was supposed to be so simple, Derrick says to himself as he lets out a loud exhale. He knows if he does nothing that breath will be his last, but he is paralysed with fear. This isn’t his world. He’s an office worker, not a gang member. He’s never even been in trouble with the law before today.

“If you don’t kill them, your wife won’t see tomorrow. We have her. Now get the job done.” The voice masked by electronics says coldly.

Derrick at the mention of his wife, that they have her and that she will die if he doesn’t do this decides he has one last chance to reason with the officers before he will have to pull the trigger. Her life means more to him than those of these officers. Whether he’ll be able to live with himself afterwards he doesn’t know. But that will be a problem for then, not one he should consider right now.

“You don’t understand. You have to let me go. People will die if you don’t. Please.” Derrick says begging. The barrel of the nine millimetre handgun drops slightly as he speaks. Though, no response is ever given as there are two cracks. The cracks are masked by the vehicles still roaring up and down the dual carriageway oblivious to what has been going on in the lay-by due to the row of tress between which are tall and covered in thick green leaves.

The cracks were shots, fired from half a mile away, where two men whose faces are covered with balaclavas are lying on their stomachs in the middle of a bridge. The barrel of the rifle jutting out a few inches between a pair of railings in the metal fence that mark the edges beyond which there is an eighteen foot drop to the asphalt of the dual carriageway below. The same dual carriageway Derrick had been driving on before he was pulled over by the police.

The pair of men made sure to block the path to the bridge from either side, having posed as workmen claiming that the bridge is closed due to structural issues which they are beginning work on.

Only a few locals had tried to cross the bridge and each one of them had bought the story that had allowed the pair of men to setup and keep an eye on Derrick, who was told to use this very road to head to his destination point.

The plan however, had been for him to simply pass them by and carry on his way to the delivery point, where he would drop off the mountain of drugs to a buyer. That was supposed to be where Derrick died. The group were going to bust in, retake their drugs and claim the money they were owed for the deal. The ensuing firefight would have seen Derrick killed by a seemingly stray bullet, which wouldn’t have been stray at all. Instead, there will have to be a change of plans as Derrick, like the two officers that had confronted him, is lying dead on the ground.

“Targets down.” The spotter of the pair confirms with a low gravelly voice.

“Charlie, package retrieval needed.” The man with the rifle then informs over the radio, the microphone of which is strapped to his throat.

“Confirmed Alpha, ETA for Delta and I is three.” Charlie, a happy sounding man, says before cutting his connection to avoid any possible eavesdroppers that could be listening but more than likely aren’t.

“Copy.” Alpha replies as he continues to watch the area around the three lifeless bodies and the two cars through the scope of his rifle.

“What about the family?” The man next to Alpha asks from behind his black balaclava and hazel coloured eyes.

“Cut ‘em loose Bravo. They know nothing. Derrick’s death will just be a sad end to a final already decaying chapter.” Alpha answers with a gruff note.

“Charlie and Delta pulling up now.” Charlie confirms before long and only seconds after his radio hissed back to life.

Bravo raises the binoculars in his hands back up to his face so that he to can check on Charlie and Delta who he sees gets out of their car. It’s been marked up to appear identical to those driven by police officers, except it isn’t a police car and will when this job is over but a burnt out metal shell.

Delta checks the officers’ bodies before pulling the keys to the white saloon that had been Derrick’s from one of the dead younger officers’ pocket.

“Got ‘em. We still clear?” Delta asks as he heads for the saloon, which he now will be driving to the rest of the way.

“Clear Delta.” Bravo confirms as Alpha continues to watch the road and Charlie, who is keeping a watchful eye out from near the entrance of the pull off to the lay-by. Cars and lorries still thundering past completely oblivious to the scene of the triple murder and soon to be car theft.

“What we going to do about a patsy?” Charlie asks as Delta ignites the engine of the white saloon.

“Already got it covered Charlie. Now cut the chatter and get out. I’ll send you new point for amended plan en route.” Alpha confirms before killing his own connection to the others and just in time to see the white salon peel off. Charlie follows a short time later in the fake police car which the police themselves wouldn’t be able to tell is a fake, unless they climbed inside of it. If they did they’d find that it is lacking their usual suite of equipment, which is the only give away that it isn’t a real police car.

“Time we get moving to.” Bravo assumes as he clambers back to his feet and stretches, while Alpha makes one last pass over the scene that now consists of a single police car and the three dead bodies. Delta having returned the dead officers to the exact positions they had been in before he’d gone digging for Derrick’s car keys.

Alpha regrets that this plan didn’t go as it was meant to, but there is nothing to link them to this. The receiver in Derrick’s ear was reclaimed by Delta after he’d dug around for the keys to the saloon and the weapon in Alpha’s hands will wash up at the scene of the drug deal gone wrong in the hands of the new patsy. Delta will plant some fibres once they meet up that will link the crimes. This isn’t their first time doing this and it won’t be their last.

But Alpha feels nothing for the loss of Derrick’s life, or the two officers. Collateral damage, he calls it as he withdraws from the bridge and clambers into the silver van moments before it tears off toward the new meeting point so they can enact plan B.

Plan B being that Derrick was roped into this by their new patsy, a former drug pusher who has recently been released from prison, because of his desperation for money. Seeing as Derrick has been unemployed for eight months and has a wife with a hefty spending habit that has seen all his severance pay evaporate into thin air, few will question it. If they do then the group can always throw a few bribes around. People rarely talk once money is shoved into their hands, which is why this work is so easy for this group of highly skilled and trained men.