Sacrifice - A short narrative

I lay staring up at the blue sky, the gentle sunlight caressing my face, the soft breeze ruffling the feathery mane that topped the hard black leather helmet. I took a deep breath and grabbed at the hole in my breast as the pain shot through my chest, as I pulled my riding gloves away I saw them coated in a thick viscous layer of red blood. My blood.

I could hear the crackling cackle of musketry further down the valley but no more was aimed at me. My horse was gone and I was laying here dying in this field. Maybe someone would find me and take me to a field hospital or kill and rob me. Who knew?

I tried to crane my head up to look up the hill to where my fellows would be mounted and surveying this battle. Just a short time ago I was up there with them, ready to repulse either of the two embattled armies who decided to take the high ground from us. We'd taken this town in a vicious long running battle that ran street to street, house to house and even room to room.

As the bulk of our forces battled to maintain the roads and quash any stragglers a group of us young bucks were mounted and moved to the ridge to watch the river valley. There we had watched the blue flags moving up the river whilst the red banners moved out of the next town to meet them.

It had been a beautiful sight, columns of blue uniforms, the rumble of kettle drums, the whistling of fifes as they moved up the river valley. When battle was joined the two opposing armies locked their pikes and the muskets spewed smoke and death into the opposing ranks.

We watched, a neutral and distant force, as shot, steel and iron poured into soft flesh. We watched them fall. We watched them die.

The opposing commanders were suddenly locked in combat as the command detachments blundered into each other. I silently urged the blue commander to finish this. Though we stood on opposing sides I had the utmost respect for her ability and her conduct in this war rather than the scarlet wearing opportunist who fought through deception and ambush.

Then it happened, my heart jumped to my throat as I saw her fall from her saddle and crash to the swaying grass. I turned to my friend who sat next to me. He didn't flinch.

I tried to turn back to face the storm but kept finding my eyes drawn inescapably towards that duel as if nothing else was happening on that field.

Suddenly it all became clear. Nothing else mattered, not the two armies, not the distance to ride, not my comrades. What would they say when they found out what had happened to me? What would our Commander say?

That I had been a fool? For what else is a hero but a successful fool?

I put my spurs to horse and urged her down into that valley. With the song of drawing steel and the glimmer of light that kissed the blade I drew my sabre and plunged forward towards the duel, my eyes locked on the blue jacket that was pulling itself up to continue the fight.

Despite the seeming leagues distance I'd cleared it in moments urging my horse over fences and a small stream in great bounds. I would arrive soon and my silver sabre would parry a blow and reposte into the chest of the offender.

I didn't see who fired the shot, nor did I hear it. All I felt was the searing heat and pain as the bullet passed through my gold uniform and out the other side. The warmth of my life's blood spread across my chest and suddenly I was falling towards the soft valley floor which rushed to embrace me.

It had seemed like the logical thing to do, the right thing to do but I hadn't even made it to the battle that raged below. My sacrifice would go unnoticed.

I found myself laughing to myself as I thought about what I'd done, what I'd sacrificed and the level of my failure.

I looked up at the sky one last time and smiled. It was a beautiful place to die and die I did.

Into the Dark (segment)

Jane felt her mind clearing from the fog of sleep, her aching wounded body felt fresh and warm as if waking from a dream in her bunk.

She tried to take stock of her surroundings and why her mouth and nose felt funny, like they were covered by an unknown hand that still allowed her to breathe. She openned her eyes and as the pink sticky liquid filled them she began to realise her fate and terror rose through her with the accompanying scream.

She thrashed around naked in her glass cell screaming into her oxygen mask banging her fists against the sides in blind panic. The sight of row upon row of cylinders similarly filled with sleeping clones of herself suspended in the pink nutrient goo, only increased her need and desire to escape. This had to be a nightmare!

A silhouetted figure of one of those creatures stood in the doorway regarding her. She stopped banging the glass as the terror slipped away .

"Please... Please, let me out... I know you can hear me... Please... I just want to go home."

"You'll get home soon Lieutenant." The Alien's voice wrapped "You will all get home sooner than you think."

Then, the figure turned away and closed the metal door with a secure metallic clunk plunging Jane and the clones, into the dark.

Into the dark...

Ok, please be gentle. Its the first thing I've written in a Loooonnnngggg time and it is still very much work in progress.

As Princess Irulan said in Dune; A beginning is a very fragile thing and I'm hoping this isn't too bad a start... do let me know.

Chapter One

The door swung open quietly, so quietly that Lieutenant Jane Briarwood didn’t even hear it. The Endeavourhad been in space for over four months on a deep survey mission and Jane had been staring at readouts for most of it. As a junior archaeologist she’d had the honour of being assigned to this vessel mainly because she believed no one else had wanted to go and had more clout than her.

“Ah, Lieutenant Briarwood.” The voice of her nominal superiorCommander Devonshire derailed her train of thought with its usual annoyingdrone. “Are you busy?”

“Is there anything I can say that will convince you that I am?” she thought.

“Good.” He didn’t even give her a chance to  reply. “The equipment needs to be checked onagain. Make sure it is all fully functional.”

Jane rolled her eyes and closed them shut in frustration.Every other day Devonshire came in and would send her to check again. She used to argue but it was a fruitless exercise and it was a drain on the shipsatmosphere recycler. For four months they had travelled, for four months they had seen nothing but the cold black starry vacuum of space. Four months of deepscans, and long range probe reports and dehydrated food. The equipment hadn’tleft the packing crate let alone the stasis chambers. Captain Kinnock kept assuring the survey staff in fortnightly meetings that they were on course and that they should find a planet soon but she’d ceased to believe that after the first month.

She’d spent most of her days running simulations and reading, hoping beyond hope that something interesting was coming up around the corner but again, she’d given up on that too. It had become a waiting game. How long until the Captain would admit the inevitable and turn the ship around or how long until they actually found something?

She had left the confines of her meagre office on quite a fewoccasions, other than to go and check the blasted equipment. On constant laps around the ship in the early hours for exercise or a post shift drink in the mess where she actually got to socialise with real human beings. At first some of the men had hit on her but after a few clumsy approaches, some of her wittiest put downs and the intervention of Mr Miles, the ship’s Second Officer she was safe to sit and chat with the others. Although the fleet had a good mix of men and women some how this ship had ended up with a majority male crew and had she been inclined she could have any number of suitors especially now as the fourth long month dragged on but she preferred to keep her own company.

She had been so immersed in her renewed reminiscing that shehadn’t even noticed that she was already half way to the Access control room.She liked the guys down there. Like her they spent hours locked up in a roomwatching cameras and computer screens. They were all joyfully eccentric and they were used her regular visits, in fact they seemed to look forward to it. Acouple of them had an obvious crush on her to, they would fight to get to the front door every time for a glimmer of conversation and a hint of a smile.Truth be told, she found them all very funny.

As she approached and swiped her access card she could hear the clamour within and the muffled argument.

“You spoke to her last time, it’s my turn.”
“Get out of my way old man.”

She wondered who would win.

“Hi Jane, what can I do you for?” Jack had won this time.The young man with freckles and reddish tint to his blonde hair was the usualone to win but only because Boris was older and his reaction speed was just slow enough that the younger man could beat him.

She favoured him with a broad grin. “Same as always, key card 106 and an escort to hold 8”

“Comin’ right up.” He grinned broadly and disappeared intothe office again.

She started to wander down the corridor towards the stasisholds, it felt like she’d been here everyday. She had counted the tiles on the floor waiting for her escort one day and now knew how many steps it took to get to bay 8, to pass the time she counted steps until her escort arrived.

“Seven, eight, nine,ten…”

“Another service check?” Jack came down the corridor, the soft jangling of keys in his hand and an overly joyful tone of voice for what was one of the most mundane jobs on the ship.

“Yes, Commander Devonshire is very particular about his equipment.” She nodded trying not to let the her boredom spoil his good humour.

“He knows that sitting in the stasis nothing will happen to it and only you and I have keys to it so no one else can get to it right?”

The look she gave him wold have withered flowers at threeyards and required no further conversation. Jack looked sheepishly at her and then hurried past to slip the keys in the lock and turned them. She took a step forward and withdrew her battered key card and went to swipe it in the oh sofamiliar lock.

“Lieutenant Briarwood, can you report to the forwardobservation post.”

“What now?” she thought with a touch of annoyance but with an awful lot of relief at not having to check that blasted equipment again. She slung an apologetic glance at Jack and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you later Jane.” Was the last thing she heard before disappearing into the lift back to the habitat and admin section of the ship.

Endeavour wasn’t the largest ship she had ever served on, eighteen decks, two hundred metres long with another hundred for the engine module and a crew of about seventy-five, all of whom she had met at one point on this tirelessly long voyage. Most were involved in the day to day running of the ship, its engineering team, small security detail, bridge crew and victualing staff topped up with mission specialists like herself. Though it was a tight knit group of people it was also a little claustrophobic at times but it suited her better than the large battle ships like Phaeton or Kraken both of whom were almost two kilometres with crew compliments in their thousands where she would disappear into the sea of faces and was known to no one outside of her section and even then mostly all she got from her colleagues was a half nod in passing in the corridor.

She had been glad to escape Kraken and happy with her assignment to the station at DremerdiusVII where she had her own office and space and could sit and write papers,maybe go out on a dig twice a year to the Dremerdius IV and its flowing blue rivers and hazy meadows that swam through the Methane atmosphere. Still all good things had to come to an end and the passing of Endeavour and the lack of willing archaelogists saw her get plucked from the comforts of home and thrust into this boredom. Still, it acted as a catalyst for her to think about her life and evaluate whether she truly wanted to carry on down this course, something she had spent a lot of time thinking about on this voyage. Dremerdius had been a mistake, a holding pattern but it had become comfortable and the norm for four years of her life and now that shereally thought about it she realised that she wasn’t happy there or here.Especially here.

Rhaegar & Lyanna

Vengeance teaser- Final Ghost visit

The air was icy cold, his skin dimpled and a slight frost began to form on the hair of his arms. Jonathon stepped further down the corridor and into the darkness, he stretched his left arm out out and felt the cold metallic sting of the hull plating running along the side.
A light in front of him snapped into life and filled the darkness burning his eyes. Charlotte stood before him illuminated in her Captain's uniform. She looked sad, her eyes were ringed with red as if she had been crying. She shivered and pulled her jacket tightly around her.
"Why are you here?" his voice rasped, he barely recognised it as his own.
"You keep bringing me here." He heard the hint of frustration. "If you don't want to see me stop summoning me."
He was doing this? How?
He took a step closer towards her but she raised a hand to block him.
"Stop please. Don't come closer."
"But why?"
"Jonathon, I barely know you anymore."
"I'm the same man you fell in love with, the same man who fought to save your life, the man who stood in front of the entire world and said I love you Charlotte Bell." He felt a lump in his throat as he felt her scorn. "You're my everything."
She looked on stonily, her eyes fixed on his. "I fell in love with a good man, a man of principle and honour, now your heart is filled with nothing but darkness."
"You were my light, without you I can only dwell in darkness." he bit back.
She shook her head and he could see a fiery rage he'd not seen in years, a deep burning poison was preparing to escape. Instead she spoke in measured tones.
"You're blaming me?"
"You left me..."
She cut him off with a controlled explosion. "You make it sound like I had a choice! I was taken from you! Do you think I wanted to go?"
He stared at her, his mind robbed of cognitive thought. The anger in her eyes still burned bright and he knew there was no point in questioning or pushing any further. He thought of the deaths, the blood on his hands and the route he had found himself on. Part of him, his old self was revolted by his actions. Was she a projection of his subconscious? Was it a N'kell trick?

"What would you have me do?"
"You need to turn back Jonathon, turn away from this course, you are a better man than this. Then maybe I can rest in peace."
"I wouldn't see you again?" He sounded needy, even to his own ears, had she dominated his life so much?
"One day..." She said wistfully.
"What would I do without you?"
"Go on living." She sounded incredulous. "Jonathon you have many years of your life to go, you can't become fixated like this. My life is over, yours is still ongoing."
"But I don't want to." Tears welled in his eyes. "Not without you."
"Then take your side arm, press it to your temple and end it." She lost her patience and snapped.

He glanced down at the butt of the sidearm protruding from it's holster. It seemed to call to him and he felt his hand twitch towards it. The lure of peace, of being with her. He felt the weight lifting from his mind, the voices quietening down.

Rage suddenly filled him, bubbling out of control and he spat vehmentally at her. "You would like that wouldn't you? For me to stop my work."
She was even more incredulous. "What?" she narrowed her eyes and her cheeks flushed with rage.
"You're one of them. You're here to stop me..."
"If I wasn't who I said I was would I know about Doolan? You're nickname was Freya because of your snoring? That your mother's name is Florence?"
He looked at her knowing what she said was true. How could a facsimile know all of those details?
But how could it really be her?
"You have to have faith, not everything can be explained. I can't explain it myself. All I know is I keep finding myself here watching you disintegrate from the man I knew and loved. It's too painful Jonathon - I can't do it anymore."

What am I doing with my life? Help please!!!

At somepoint this morning everything cracked and I found myself telephoning my wife and asking;

"What am I doing?"

"I don't know. What are you doing?"

"Well I'm on my way to work... I meant in life."

"Oh... do you..."

"Obviously not you and Sophie... Just everything else!"

I had been reading "One day" and was relating to Em's post university crisis of not achieving all that she had dreamed of and being defeated by the city of London. I started thinking about how I'd felt post degree and how I had hoped and dreamed and now....

Now I'm sat in a darkened room doing the same things day in and out for a company I'm no longer thrilled to be working for.

At 10.02 am I answer the same phone call "Hello Fred......... Thanks Fred....." EVERY LATE SHIFT.

I think about what some of my friends are doing with their lives or even what my sister is doing and it saddens me.

Other than my wife and daughter, of which I am eternally thankful and a hand full of close friends I've a massive hole in my life... I mean what is it all about?

In my spare time I write... not meandering rants/pleas for help like this but prose and essays that I publish on line but ultimatly what does it achieve? Nothing.
I read a lot too. I amass great swathes of fascinating (to me) information about people who are long dead and governments of countries that no longer exist and for what?

I want to do more Lib dem stuff but ultimatly can't imagine what it would achieve and I don't have the time or money to get as involved as I want to either. I just feel life has cornered me and is happily kicking the crap out of me and that Game Over is looming over my head.

I guess I'm reaching the point that I need some direction, I want to do something worth while, something productive or feel productive... Like I am doing something to benefit others, myself or society rather than sat in comfy chairs eatting Haribo waiting for the shift to end and wondering what the hell has happened with life.

I can't believe I written this... even if it is for a bet.

I woke up the next morning slowly, not with what have understandably been a shocked start in an unfamiliar room. A smug smile spread across my face as I pulled the white duvet over my head and nuzzled into the soft white pillow. I could still smell his aftershave on his side and I felt excitement build within me again and my heart skipped a beat.

I heard music gently emanating from down the hall way, it was... Oh what was it? The Magic Flute! I remember being pleasantly surprised. Then a new smell caught my attention.
Bacon.
I felt my stomach grumble as the smoky smell filled my nostrils, I was being pulled inexorably out of bed towards the kitchen. I stepped out onto the soft carpet and looked at my disheveled pile of clothes, abandoned in the heat of the moment. y eyes fixed on a soft white dressing gown and pulled it tight around myself and stepped out into the hall way. Sunlight streamed from the window at the far end blinding me somewhat. The kitchen-dining room door was open and the sound of Mozart and soft Germanic opera grew slightly in volume and in the background I could hear bacon sizzling under the grill.

I stepped into the room and there he was, dressed in a scruffy pair of jeans and an old graduation T-shirt from King Ælfred’s college. His hair was scruffy but roughly combed and his eyes fixed the bacon and sausages cooking under the grill, he clung to a mug of tea casually and a spatula with the other hand.
“How do you like your eggs?”  How had he heard me approach?
“That’s rather presumptuous of you.” I retorted. “I might be a vegetarian.”
“Surf and turf.” He said simply.
“What?”
“You told me your favorite meal was Surf and turf. Also in the restaurant you had Lamb Balti. Any way its Sunday. You have to have a cooked breakfast. It’s the law.”

I smiled “Scrambled please.”

He smiled back at me briefly then put the tea on the work surface. “Breakfast will be served in five minutes.”

I decided to let the master carry on his work and padded softly down the hall to the bathroom. As I washed my hands I saw his bathroom cabinet open curiosity got the better of me and I had a quick look. I’m not sure what for, maybe some sort of horrific medication or cream but no.
Just a flannel, spare razor blades, a bottle of aftershave and paracetemol . In a way I was a little disappointed.

As I stepped back into the hall I saw the oor to the second bedroom open and again curiosity [piqued my interest. I stepped into what appeared to be a study with all the walls lined with shelves heaving with books and a loan desk in the corner by the window with a PC and a couple of framed pictures.
I started to look through the books casually to see what he was interested in. The first few shelves were general fiction, some thrillers and a couple of books by that upcoming authoress  whose name I can’t remember at the moment. Then there was a couple of shelves dedicated to his favourite sci-fi franchise including some technical manuals as to how all the ships worked etc. I shook my head with a wry smile. The next set were history books about Medieval  England, eighteenth century Imperialism and wars in America and of course lots of books on the Second World War. The shelf next to his desk, obviously the ones that were used the most, their spines creased or with little bookmarks poking out. A well thumbed copies of Goethe and Schiller, some political philosophy like Hobbes, Locke, Mills and even some Marx. I was pleased to see a copy of Mrs Thathcer’s autobiography among the collected works of Grimond, Beverage, Keynes and Asquith. I looked away to the desk and at the framed pictures, nothing out of the ordinary just a couple of family ones of what I assumed were pictures of his mother and brother, one of his ex… she certainly was a plain Jane! Short copper hair scraped back in a tight bun and a look of serious expression, he was sat at her side beaming and holding a glass of wine obviously having a good time but her eyes showed she was obviously hating whatever the event was. The last was him wearing a black suit and yellow tie shaking hands with…

My heart began to race with dread as I turned back to the bookshelves and stared at the politics books again. Grimond, Asquith,  Keynes, The Orange book… back to the picture of him shaking hands with another suited man wearing a yellow rosette. It was Nick Clegg.

Dave was a Liberal Democrat!

I felt, let down. I’d almost wished I had found a herpes cream in his cabinet instead. It sounds stupid but I really despised Liberal Democrats, I always had. They were always so wishy-washy, always on the fence and when they did have policies they were always opposite to what I believed in. Pro-Euro, always bringing up human rights and constantly banging on about electoral reform! There was nothing that needed reforming. My blood began to boil at the thought of it.

“Breakfast.” I heard him call from down the hall way.
I turned to look out the study door as he appeared in the doorway.
“Isobel,” he grinned. “Breakfast is ready. How would you like your tea?”
I looked at him with in hindsight was more of a glare, I tried to quickly recover and forced a smile. It couldn’t be that big a deal, so what if he was a Libdem? So what if I was a Tory and we had completely different outlooks on politics, the world and everything?