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THeMaCHinE
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This week's segment -- let me know what you think!
Past Segments:
ATBG/Segment 1 — Blackness and Light
ATBG/Segment 2 — The Descent
ATBG/Segment 3 — Calm Before The Storm
ATBG/Segment 4 — The Quickening
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And There Be Gods
Segment 5 -- Beneath The Ice
by MACHINE
© 2001
All Rights Reserved
7.
In the opulent surroundings of his private quarters, the man slumped at his desk and wiped a bead of crystalline sweat from his brow with an unsteady hand. A fragile chalice of chilled mead sat untouched, sweating in the oppressive environment of the dim, closed-in chamber. The man stared blankly at the small object on the desk before him, his mind alternating between angry internal dialogue and somber reflection.
Greed. Money. Power.
After long and torturous months of watching, waiting and worrying, the palm-sized transmitter’s single green light had metamorphasized from intermittent blinks to a lethal and steady glow.
It was done. At least one trooper had arrived. Maybe more.
When the shadowy agent had approached him all those months ago, the money versus the risk had seemed worth it. Having been a navigator for years prior, he had never dreamed that pods of the size the Xian agent had described would survive such a long journey. He had never dreamed that the easy money the agent had paid, and was yet to pay, would be blood money.
Dread rising; a surreal feeling of detachment falling over him, he succumbed with a whisper to the grip of the desk’s immaculate leather chair. What had he done?
Propping his elbows roughly on the desk’s expansive wooden surface and cradling his spinning head in strong, calloused hands, he stared at the small, dull-black transmitter through interlocked fingers. It occurred to him that the device resembled the upper segment of a venomous black snake.
A snake that had guided the poisonous shock trooper to Ibiza.
Hitching forward and snatching up the transmitter, he turned it over and unhinged a hidden door on its back, gaining access to a nondescript recessed switch.
Flicking the switch and dropping the device into his trash container, the man lingered long enough to watch the transmitter smoke lightly, melt and devolve into an undistinguishable black slag. An acrid smell filled the room as metal and plastic components became unrecognizable.
Feeling a sudden and urgent physical need to be out of the apartment, the man left.
And paced the pristine, hallowed halls of the Ibizan palace.
++++++++++++++
Past Segments:
ATBG/Segment 1 — Blackness and Light
ATBG/Segment 2 — The Descent
ATBG/Segment 3 — Calm Before The Storm
ATBG/Segment 4 — The Quickening
+++++++++++++
And There Be Gods
Segment 5 -- Beneath The Ice
by MACHINE
© 2001
All Rights Reserved
7.
In the opulent surroundings of his private quarters, the man slumped at his desk and wiped a bead of crystalline sweat from his brow with an unsteady hand. A fragile chalice of chilled mead sat untouched, sweating in the oppressive environment of the dim, closed-in chamber. The man stared blankly at the small object on the desk before him, his mind alternating between angry internal dialogue and somber reflection.
Greed. Money. Power.
After long and torturous months of watching, waiting and worrying, the palm-sized transmitter’s single green light had metamorphasized from intermittent blinks to a lethal and steady glow.
It was done. At least one trooper had arrived. Maybe more.
When the shadowy agent had approached him all those months ago, the money versus the risk had seemed worth it. Having been a navigator for years prior, he had never dreamed that pods of the size the Xian agent had described would survive such a long journey. He had never dreamed that the easy money the agent had paid, and was yet to pay, would be blood money.
Dread rising; a surreal feeling of detachment falling over him, he succumbed with a whisper to the grip of the desk’s immaculate leather chair. What had he done?
Propping his elbows roughly on the desk’s expansive wooden surface and cradling his spinning head in strong, calloused hands, he stared at the small, dull-black transmitter through interlocked fingers. It occurred to him that the device resembled the upper segment of a venomous black snake.
A snake that had guided the poisonous shock trooper to Ibiza.
Hitching forward and snatching up the transmitter, he turned it over and unhinged a hidden door on its back, gaining access to a nondescript recessed switch.
Flicking the switch and dropping the device into his trash container, the man lingered long enough to watch the transmitter smoke lightly, melt and devolve into an undistinguishable black slag. An acrid smell filled the room as metal and plastic components became unrecognizable.
Feeling a sudden and urgent physical need to be out of the apartment, the man left.
And paced the pristine, hallowed halls of the Ibizan palace.
++++++++++++++
Last edited:
lol -- I'm more concerned about quality than quantity... I try to average about 500 words per segment, this one was a little on the short side... I just gotta let the story tell itself though, you know? Glad you are enjoying it!
