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THeMaCHinE
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Past segments:
ATBG/Segment 1 – Blackness and Light
++++++
AND THERE BE GODS
Segment 2 -- The Descent
by MACHINE
© 2001
2.
40,000 feet.
The pod caromed down through the dusky amber twilight and gossamer clouds, bursting violently through turbulent pockets, shedding metal parts and lighting reverse thrust rockets to slow its descent.
Metropolitan Ibiza, the capital and cultural center of Troy, sprawled across the intermediate rock and forest landscape below, its myriad of lights sparkling into the cool Fall evening — a beacon, unaware.
At 34,000 feet, Ibiza’s automated air-detection defense system spotted the foreign pod and sent a Class I alert to Central Precinct Royal Guard Station #24. By 26,000 feet the Metro Defense Unit had deemed the pod a hostile and unauthorized presence. Too late. City surface-to-air missiles weren't authorized to be fired at targets lower than 26,500 feet.
Pinpointing the projected impact site of the hostile object, a dispatch went to the station’s SAS First Responders. The team of 17, always on alert, scrambled in moments — racing toward the projected impact site in three heavily armored troop-carrier vehicles. The muzzles of the team’s various model laser assault rifles bristled lethally over the top of the night-black carriers like quills on a wolverine.
Per standard procedure, another dispatch was transmitted to the Ibizan Palace. Through encrypted biotechnology, the dispatch flowed to the interior chambers of Garden VonHelsen, Baron of Troy, Husband of Aumna, Father of Krill.
3.
He lay in the warm silence next to her, watching her sleeping figure. Dim light from the room’s antechamber filtered in, bathing her form in a soft glow. A slight breeze wafted gently through the bedroom windows.
Garden studied her face, noting the slight flaring of her nostrils, the silent breath that escaped between her full lips, the way her large eyes were barely cloaked by her eyelids. He watched her as she slept often, continually fascinated by the art before him.
They had met nine years ago, been married for three and public for two. In his life there had been many women, but she was the only one. She loved him — differently than all the others — and he loved her for it.
The whiteness of the sheets contrasted starkly with the deep complexion of her supple skin. Long muscled legs tangled gracefully with the bed covers, the swell of her full breasts and shapely upper body accentuated by the thin fabric.
Lightly running his fingers through her long auburn hair, Garden gazed at the woman he loved — his wife, the mother of his son.
He looked at Aumna, the deposed princess of Xia-Xia.
He was lost in these thoughts when the royal crisis alarm lit the computer panel across the room. Extricating himself gently from the warm clutch of the bed, Garden swept to the panel, inserted his index finger into the coder and keyed the royal access pin.
The dispatch from the guard station glowed before him, its words reflected in the pale blue mirrors of his eyes.
Without a word, the Baron left the panel and the room, bidding a silent, heartfelt goodbye to his sleeping wife as he went. Outside the chamber door, he motioned urgently to one of his guards.
“Balthog, go now — fetch Roman and Balthus. Have them meet me immediately in the Shoggoth room.”
The sharp drumming of Balthog’s boots on the polished floor shattered the hall’s silence as the elite guard scrambled to meet the Baron’s wishes. Garden continued to a lift tube and commanded it to take him to the Shoggoth room.
As the lift tube’s doors closed and started its long descent towards the Shoggoth room — the chamber that housed the living imperial battle armor — Garden closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the Zuex, father of the Watchers.
“Father watch me,
For I know not what I face.
Guide my sword,
And my decisions —
So that I might make it home.”
Enclosed in the claustrophobic capsule, Garden sank deeper and deeper into the dark bowels of the royal palace.
+++++++++++++++++++
ATBG/Segment 1 – Blackness and Light
++++++
AND THERE BE GODS
Segment 2 -- The Descent
by MACHINE
© 2001
2.
40,000 feet.
The pod caromed down through the dusky amber twilight and gossamer clouds, bursting violently through turbulent pockets, shedding metal parts and lighting reverse thrust rockets to slow its descent.
Metropolitan Ibiza, the capital and cultural center of Troy, sprawled across the intermediate rock and forest landscape below, its myriad of lights sparkling into the cool Fall evening — a beacon, unaware.
At 34,000 feet, Ibiza’s automated air-detection defense system spotted the foreign pod and sent a Class I alert to Central Precinct Royal Guard Station #24. By 26,000 feet the Metro Defense Unit had deemed the pod a hostile and unauthorized presence. Too late. City surface-to-air missiles weren't authorized to be fired at targets lower than 26,500 feet.
Pinpointing the projected impact site of the hostile object, a dispatch went to the station’s SAS First Responders. The team of 17, always on alert, scrambled in moments — racing toward the projected impact site in three heavily armored troop-carrier vehicles. The muzzles of the team’s various model laser assault rifles bristled lethally over the top of the night-black carriers like quills on a wolverine.
Per standard procedure, another dispatch was transmitted to the Ibizan Palace. Through encrypted biotechnology, the dispatch flowed to the interior chambers of Garden VonHelsen, Baron of Troy, Husband of Aumna, Father of Krill.
3.
He lay in the warm silence next to her, watching her sleeping figure. Dim light from the room’s antechamber filtered in, bathing her form in a soft glow. A slight breeze wafted gently through the bedroom windows.
Garden studied her face, noting the slight flaring of her nostrils, the silent breath that escaped between her full lips, the way her large eyes were barely cloaked by her eyelids. He watched her as she slept often, continually fascinated by the art before him.
They had met nine years ago, been married for three and public for two. In his life there had been many women, but she was the only one. She loved him — differently than all the others — and he loved her for it.
The whiteness of the sheets contrasted starkly with the deep complexion of her supple skin. Long muscled legs tangled gracefully with the bed covers, the swell of her full breasts and shapely upper body accentuated by the thin fabric.
Lightly running his fingers through her long auburn hair, Garden gazed at the woman he loved — his wife, the mother of his son.
He looked at Aumna, the deposed princess of Xia-Xia.
He was lost in these thoughts when the royal crisis alarm lit the computer panel across the room. Extricating himself gently from the warm clutch of the bed, Garden swept to the panel, inserted his index finger into the coder and keyed the royal access pin.
The dispatch from the guard station glowed before him, its words reflected in the pale blue mirrors of his eyes.
Without a word, the Baron left the panel and the room, bidding a silent, heartfelt goodbye to his sleeping wife as he went. Outside the chamber door, he motioned urgently to one of his guards.
“Balthog, go now — fetch Roman and Balthus. Have them meet me immediately in the Shoggoth room.”
The sharp drumming of Balthog’s boots on the polished floor shattered the hall’s silence as the elite guard scrambled to meet the Baron’s wishes. Garden continued to a lift tube and commanded it to take him to the Shoggoth room.
As the lift tube’s doors closed and started its long descent towards the Shoggoth room — the chamber that housed the living imperial battle armor — Garden closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the Zuex, father of the Watchers.
“Father watch me,
For I know not what I face.
Guide my sword,
And my decisions —
So that I might make it home.”
Enclosed in the claustrophobic capsule, Garden sank deeper and deeper into the dark bowels of the royal palace.
+++++++++++++++++++
