The Sin Continuum

By E.O.M. Wyntre

My name is Serenity. My Sin is Survival. But I have learned . . . that survival is not always enough. That there is more.

Life is a game. To lose, you die. To play, you survive. And to win . . . you live.

I have been playing this game all my life, never by my own rules.

To the people of earth; the beautiful blue planet on which you go about your business, in your own small world, unseeing of the other worlds of other people pressed up like sardines against your own. 

People of earth: I am the pinnacle of the evolution of the human race. I have been chained; imprisoned; tested; beaten; left to die. I have been set free. I did not give up because I couldn’t. I could have. At any time. But I didn’t. I refused. To give up would have been to let those people win. The truth didn’t set me free; I did that to myself. But the knowledge of it kept me going.

I survived because that is what I do. But I have never been a winner; I have never won.

I have always been the pawn in other people’s master plans. The ace; their last resort. Their Queen of Hearts with red dress and assassin’s leer. Because I never fail.

But that is not me. I may be the best of success but in the heart and blood and bone of it all I am a failure because I was never allowed to live.

To the people of earth; I have been released from my chains but as I stand back and watch I see so many bound in their own not nearly as literal as mine. To the people of this glorious young planet; there is so much more. There is so much you cannot see because you refuse to open your eyes and play by your own rules. Trust me. Take it from someone who knows what is like to be governed by others.

My name is Serenity, and I am twenty-two years old and a million years from now even I will be dead and gone and forgotten. But for now I am young and I am free. If I live no longer than the time it takes to say this; listen. Open your ears and your eyes and your hearts and be free. If you forget me, my name, and my Sin, remember this: play by your own rules, and win.

Songs

By Jack Swan

Songs are interesting little things. There is nothing else that a human can create, share for a few fleeting minutes, and yet have such a deep impact on someone for so long. Some songs bounce off the surface, disliked by hostile ears; some are enjoyed; some are taken to heart. The point is, most of the time, a song will do something to you.

But sometimes, now and then, you do something to the song. Perhaps it’s the timing. Perhaps it’s a thought. There are many reasons. But those certain, special times, a song will be flitting around at just the right moment to be snared by a deep, complex web of emotion. But in the confusion of feeling comes a new explosion of order, as the heart tingles of sensation turn into keys. The words of the song aren’t quite ripped open, but the doors of understanding are flung open and before you know it a thousand meanings of your own flood into the vaults of the song, washing around the pillars of notes and bars and staves and chords. The words crafted by some distant artist drip with meaning, thoughts and meditations that only you can decipher, every single lyric a poem that you yourself wrote. Every time you hear that song, you plunge into those flooded chambers and bathe in the sensations. Sometimes you elate. But sometimes you shy away from it, petrified of the place you will go if you allow yourself to get washed along with the lyrics. Because the last thing you want is to disappear into those rivers of memory and sensation, floating blind in darkened tunnels towards that inexorable destination.

Because sometimes you’ll hear the voice of someone you sung it with.

 ----

Every idea, no matter how little, deserves a go, I suppose

Confidence

By Jack Swan

Paul had the confidence to do it.

The exam wasn’t going well. In fact, none of them had. Nothing had really gone right since he had started college – a ‘step forwards’ that, in reality, had brought him everything except fortune. It had been a long year of pain, confusion, and self-doubt. And at the same time, it had been a long year of ideas, plans, and hopes. And now, this very moment, seemed the perfect time.

He put the lid on his pen, slipped it into his inside pocket, pushed the chair back noisily, and got up. A hundred pairs of eyes, divided by row and column, rose from exam papers to stare at him. He looked over the sea of faces, the visage of new friends and a handful of new enemies he had made this last year, and shrugged.

“Bye, guys,” he announced, brashly. Already invigilators were pacing towards him, but Paul really didn’t care. He stepped out into aisle and weaved past desks to the double doors at the end of the hall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hissed one, haggard grey-haired man with wide-rimmed glasses that hadn’t changed style since the late 80s. Paul looked at him over his shoulder as he walked onwards.

“Living.”

He pushed open the double doors and felt the sunlight. The morning’s grey sky was already beginning to give way to sun.

Ashes of the Earth

By Calum Morton

My name is Ethan Briarson.

My name is Ethan Briarson and I am a survivor.

My name is Ethan Briarson and I am a survivor of the Undoing, the event which devastated most of the Earth. 

Of a population close to ten billion less than ten million likely remain. But none of that matters to me. Not today, not yesterday and I sure as hell won’t care come tomorrow. All that matters to me is finding food, shelter and enough filters for my gas mask. It isn’t safe to travel on the surface without one anymore because the Undoing threw so much ash and a poisonous dust into the atmosphere. Some of the older people say that the dust is radioactive and maybe they’re right. Doesn’t really matter in the long run, all I know is it kills you slowly if you don’t have a mask on. People call it the lurgie, it kills your lungs and eventually you just drop dead.

I live in what’s left of the United States of America. Most of the country is a wasteland but there are some pockets of organised civilised people still clinging to life in this hellish nightmare of a land, in the deserts under the burning sun and in the mountains to the west and even in the swamps of the south. Life goes on, it always does, sure the world ended, but life, well, you’ll never snuff out everyone. People are just too stubborn.

But enough about that, I’m sure you’re dying to know what I’m doing lying in an old highway drainage ditch with the stench of filthy, poisoned water filling my nose and a whole heap of shit going on just above me on the highway proper. Well I’ll tell you what’s going on! Mogs, that’s what! 'Mogs' is short for Mogazi, they’re like us humans but they’re mutated and less intelligent than your average human. Trouble is that they’re stronger than us and they hunt in packs. Shit! Where did I put my gun…ah, there it is.

Okay, sorry, where were we? Right, right, Mogs! So I was minding my own business travelling north to Dee Cee when I see this huge plume of dust and smoke coming from the south, probably from Fredericksberg, and I think to myself “Ethan, get your ass of the highway right now or you’re dead meat.” So I throw myself into this ditch and not a minute later I hear the engines roaring as this pack of Mogs hares past but they must have spotted something on the road near me that took their fancy and now I’ve been here for an hour and they haven’t gone anywhere. I’m so fucked! Okay, come on Ethan, calm down. They don’t know you’re here and even so, maybe they aren’t hungry? Oh shit who am I kidding? Mogs are ALWAYS hungry! 

Arcturian - Pt. 4

Read part one here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-chapter-1.html

Read part two here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-pt-2.html

Read part three here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-pt-3.html

By Calum Morton

Blasts of pure energy spewed forth from gun pits and cannons and spread out lazily across the gulf of space. The ships that tumbled and twisted around the space station at Tau Beta. Markus Sillassus swung about the controls and bore down upon a pirate scout ship he waited a few seconds; sure enough, there were the blue-purple blasts of the Arcturian's Pulse Laser Cannons. Some shots were dispersed by the pirate vessels’ energy shields but more went through and tore holes in her hull. Fire blossomed out of the ruptures as internal blasts ripped the small ship apart. Danm good shot, Seb thought Markus, as he heaved on the controls and fell into formation behind the Taurus.

“Captain Odan, what’s our next target?” Markus asked over the secure comm channel.

“The rebel pirate fleet is being commanded from a Polaris class heavy cruiser sitting just outside of the orbit of the station and well out of the way of the battle. I want to punch a hole through the rebel squadrons and lead a force against that cruiser. All available ships form up on me and follow my lead!” The reply came over open channels to all confederacy ships in the battle. A beam of purple light flicked across from a pirate vessel and struck a Confederacy Vespa class destroyer. The beam raked across the hull of the ship and flame billowed out of the rent in the ship’s flank. The destroyer returned a fire with a volley of missiles and three large ion blasts. The pirate ship disappeared in a cloud of fire and debris as she was instantaneously torn apart. Markus flicked a switch on the control panel in front of him and locked on to a rebel star fighter just ahead and port of him. He pressed a button and watched a missile streak towards the small craft. One flash of light later and the fighter was no more. Somehow this just doesn’t feel right thought Markus as he adjusted his flight path to follow the Taurus. A drifting hulk briefly obscured his view of the rest of the battle as he arced over its’ port bow. The floating wreck was so damaged he couldn’t even tell what side of the battle it belonged to.

A few minutes later they saw it, the rebel’s capital ship. The great Polaris class sat fat and wide just outside of the main battle and occasionally fired on a ship that dared to fly too close. That thing was built like a floating fortress and armed to the teeth with a nasty array of weaponry, from miniature tactical nuclear missiles, to plasma burst cannons, and even x-ray lasers: invisible yet devastating new weapons which could pass straight through shields and hull alike to cook a ships’ crew where they stood. Markus gunned the engines and followed the rest of the motley squadron who were headed straight for it.

Down in weapons Seb held his fire until he saw an opportunity to exploit a weakness in his enemy’s defence. As a bot he had a knack for calculating the best possible moment to strike so he sat, finger on the trigger, waiting…

Arcturian - Pt. 3

Read part one here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-chapter-1.html

Read part two here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-pt-2.html

By Calum Morton

On board the bridge of the Taurus Captain Nezzarr Odan listened to a report from his sensors and weapons officer Ensign Kross. Odan couldn’t stand Kross, son of a wealthy Confederacy diplomat, because he was about as useless as a damp box of matches.

“I see, ensign, I see,” said Odan nodding at Kross as he acknowledged that the ship they hunted was headed for Tau Beta Station. Tau Beta was a large space station on the fringes of Confederacy territory, that sat as a garrison to guard the borders against rebel and pirate held space near a large nebula. It seemed that Captain Silassus might well be meeting contacts in the rebellion. Not that it mattered to Nezzarr Odan; his job was simple: arrest Silassus and impound his ship and cargo pending further investigation on numerous felonies and crimes across the known (and probably unknown) parts of the galaxy. “Continue to stay in their blind spot and follow them, we’ll arrest them at Tau Beta Station,” ordered Captain Odan before retiring to the captain’s chair. They would be dropping out of Jump Space soon and he would need to be ready to react to any tricks Silassus might play.

----

Markus Silassus awoke to the sound of an alarm chirping. The control panel told him that the navi-comp would be dropping the ship out of Jump Space momentarily. He sat up and hit the ship coms button to broadcast to the crew.

“Okay, we’re coming out of Jump Space so buckle up! Seb, I want you to get down to weapons and be ready, warm up the pulse lasers and raise the shields to full. I don’t want to drop out right into the middle of a pirate raid and get caught with my trousers around my ankles! Devin, heat up the Ion Drive and make sure we’re ready if we need to make some evasive manoeuvres.” There, that should do it, not that there’s likely to be any pirates, we’d have received a distress signal, thought Markus.

The ship jumped and bucked as the Jump Drive hurled the Arcturian back into real space. Markus’ face was illuminated by the bright flashes of laser beams, plasma blasts and the flaring jets of flame created by explosive decompression and missile hits. Well shit, I certainly wasn’t expecting there to actually BE a pirate raid going on! Markus quickly hit the comm panel and spoke his orders. “Seb, I’m going to hail the station, try and find out what the heck is going on out there” Keep those shields at full but do not engage! Devin, hold on tight this is going to get interesting!”

“Define interesting,” Devin replied through his wrist comm with evident concern in his voice.

“Uh, oh god, oh god we’re all going to die?” replied Markus.

“Probability of survival remains at a steady 78.65 per cent, Captain.” Of course Seb would have to chip in, he always did!

A new light blinked on the instrument panel: someone was hailing the Arcturian. Surely it couldn’t be the station, not this quickly. It wasn’t. Markus answered the hail.

“Captain Markus Silassus of the Blazing Arcturian?” A terse, authoritative voice came over the speaker. Only confederacy officers speak like that. Shit.

“Speaking, who are you and what do you want?” replied Markus, an edge now set to his voice.

“I am Captain Nezzarr Odan of the Confederacy Light Interceptor Taurus. I was under orders to arrest you but it appears that a situation has developed which is rather more…pressing.” The voice showed almost no emotion and had an almost imperceptible French accent. That’s a new one.

“Yeah? I hadn’t noticed. What do you want me to do about it? I ain’t a hero, Captain.” I don’t have time for this, Markus thought as he played for time.

“Well, today is your chance to prove you are loyal to the Confederacy and not the kind of rebel scum who you were supplying on Procturus.” The voice sounded as if its owner was smiling, the kind of smile that a predator gives to prey that it has trapped in a net. Dammit.

“What did you have in mind, Captain Odan?” Markus hoped that the fear wouldn’t show in his voice; he’d been through worse, after all, and so had the Arcturian.

“I intend to get into that fight and rescue as many civilians a possible, as is my duty and as should yours be too.” The voice had just a hint of anger in it now. Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice, die fighting, or get arrested; Markus flipped the mute mic button.

“Okay, we’re going in there and I know you both heard all of that. Just play cool and we’ll come out of this just fine.” Markus hoped that they couldn’t hear the concern in his voice as he flipped the button once again. “Okay then Captain, we’ll follow you in. We wouldn’t dream of running away from such a good, just fight.” Markus’ cocky voice swept over the ears of the crew of the Taurus.

“Full ahead Lieutenant Darmstor, we have a battle to join!” boomed captain Odan from his chair as the lights of battle grew ever closer like a fireworks display on a summer’s night. Danger awaited but it was his duty to protect the citizens of the confederacy. He read the signature of the Arcturian behind him and knew that Silassus would stay true to his word.

Arcturian - Pt. 2

Read part one here: http://swanindustries.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/arcturian-chapter-1.html

By Calum Morton

Calm fell over the Blazing Arcturian as she settled into the ethereal paths of Jump Space and all aboard her relaxed.

“Seb? Seb!?” yelled Markus, “Where is that blasted bucket of bolts?” He spoke to the still air of the ships’ flight deck.

“Over here, sir.” a grating voice, like a lead pipe on a washboard reached Markus’ ears. “In the cargo hold making everything secure, sir,” the voice continued. The voice belonged to S.E.B, Markus’ Security and Engineering Bot purchased on Pleoras nearly seven years ago. Seb’s casing was a bronze colour. He had a humanoid head and torso with two arms, at the base of his torso were a pair of miniature caterpillar tracks which proved an excellent means of locomotion.

“Get down to the engine room; Devin might need some help.” Markus said to the bot as he casually stepped into the cargo hold, his voice echoing across its cavernous volume. He liked Seb - good bot, been useful to him many times over the years. “We’re safely into Jump Space and aren’t due out at Tau Beta for another few hours so I’m gonna take a nap up on the flight deck.” Markus concluded patting the bot on the back of his torso casing before swaggering back out of the hold.

“Aye captain, I shall render Master Devin what assistance I can,” he chirped, before trundling off to the engine room. Those tracks really did come in handy sometimes; Seb wasn’t too bad for a bit of heavy lifting either. I really ought to give him a run down just to make sure that second hand circuit board is still running, maybe when we get to Tau Beta.

Seb trundled into the engine room and allowed his photo-receptors to focus on the immobile form of Devin. Seb’s logic circuits fired up as he calculated the likely causes of Devin’s condition. Jump Space shock seemed likely. Seb rolled up to Devin and shook him with one of his manipulator arms. Devin stirred and sat up, reaching for his flask of Saurin Brandy. That ought to settle his nerves, thought Seb.

“Ah! Oh, Seb, it’s just you…you gave me quite a start!” The small Agravian rose to his feet as he conversed with the mechanoid.

“The captain sent me to assist you; did we sustain any damage during that last run?” The grating voice of the robot asked, though as Seb had no mouth the sound seemed to project from his chest.

“Yeah Seb, I had to do a re-route, we’ll probably need to clean out the radiation filters again and might even need to do a shake down just to make sure we don’t get a blow-through next time we hit atmosphere,” replied Devin as he turned to his tool kit and picked up his favourite spanner. Better get to work, he though, it was going to be a long journey.

Back on the bridge, Markus Silassus settled into the pilot’s chair and began to doze, somehow, through years of flying; he managed to fall asleep with one eye on the instruments panel. Nothing got past Markus Silassus.

But this ship wasn’t going past him. It followed just far enough back in the Arcturian’s exhaust wake that it was shrouded from all sensor probing. The Confederacy Light Interceptor Taurus kept a steady speed and followed the Arcturian on into the black and blue of the almost ethereal Jump Space.