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Dreams
Importance 2000 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Under a year after Episode IV – A New Hope The darkness was oppressive, surrounding the man like a
shroud of nightmares. It seemed to cling to his body, smearing his dark
leather coat with its inky substance. He strained his neck upwards to catch the small amount of
light coming in from the outside. The cool rain hammered against the holed
metal roof, sounding like a thousand stones being scattered over the shed. He
let the water splash down into his face. He
exited the shed with his pistol preceding him. The sight of the weapon swept
the surrounding derelict buildings like a small blood-red searchlight. Its
target beam was visible against the misty damp air. The man covered the
buildings across the debris-wrecked street before venturing out. The grin on his face was almost maniacal. His dirty
trousers, tucked into ripped pilot’s boots, and his thin shirt under his
thigh-length leather coat were awash with mud and flecks of blood. None of
the blood was his. He stepped over the wreck of an overturned speeder bike,
careful not to touch any of the twisted metal. He didn’t know if his quarry
had booby-trapped any of the area; he wasn’t taking any chances. He was halfway across the street when the intensity of
the rain increased. It came down so hard he had to place a gloved hand over
his brow as a makeshift visor. He looked at the skeletal constructs that used
to be skyscrapers and trembled as they loomed over him, almost appearing to
be ready to topple over. “Where am I?” he screamed, his mouth
filling with the cold water as it poured from the sky. His grin had
evaporated to be replaced by an expression of despair. His weapon was limp in his hand, the sight
making a shining red dot on his right boot. The hand had gone from the brow;
the water washed his face of grime and blood. “Where am I?” he screamed again, his
voice breaking as he howled his rage to the sky. There was no sky to be seen.
Just the tower blocks, disappearing into the darkness. The rain began to recede. The noise began to die down; huge amounts of running
water slowly changed to small trickles. Dripping moisture against overturned sheets of metal
turned into a regular and irregular beats. The sound of breaking glass. He spun, crouched down slightly at the knees, his weapon
up and ready as he settled the sight on the nearest building. The sound of
breaking glass echoed through the empty building, a low but still huge
warehouse of some kind. He remained motionless, the targeter
locked onto the main door which appeared to be hanging off it’s
hydraulic rails. His eyes, blinking constantly to rid them of moisture, tried
to focus on the building but his vision kept blurring. He was tired, hungry.
This had to end soon. He watched the building for a long time, until he started
to straighten again. He peered into the darkness, the weapon still trained. “Is that me?” he
whispered to the building and awaited an answer. None was forthcoming. “Am I in there?”
he whispered again. He was afraid to move. Slowly, his legs began to shift. One by one is legs
moved, one foot in front of the other, one step followed by another. His
weapon was still trained on the building. He was sure his quarry was inside the construct. He could
feel the wet hairs on his neck stiffening. His mouth went dry. His back ached
terribly from the cold and the damp. The door came closer as he edged forward. His finger was
tight against the trigger, the sense of danger increasing as he placed a foot
against the blocked opening and gave it a gentle shove. Although broken and
bent, it still slid on it’s rusted, split rails. He dived in, hitting the floor shoulder first and
rolling. As the door swung back into it’s position
with a creak he came out of the roll on one knee, his weapon pointed directly
down the corridor. There was no attack. No blaster shot. His breath came in
ragged gasps as he tried to calm his terror of the dark. The corridor was strewn with wrecked items. The wheel on
an overturned cargo hauler turned slowly, squeaking as it rotated. He
levelled the weapon on the wheel, the red dot that preceded the blaster bolt
wavering uncertainly on the spokes. Somebody must have turned it. Somebody must have nudged
it to send it into its decreasing spin. He frowned and his gaze swept the
corridor. At the far end was another open door, leading to a flight
of steps going up. He slowly stood and moved forward again, his fear of the
dark overpowered by the fear of facing his adversary. With one hand he stopped the squeaking of the wheel. The
lack of sound made the blood pumping through his ears more prominent. He
breathed deeply again, trying to force calm into his bones. After a few
seconds of forced relaxation he stepped through the far portal. The stairs wound upwards spirally, increasing amounts of
moisture from the growing rain outside dripping from the great height above
him and down into small puddles at his feet. His damp hair clung to his
forehead and his cheeks, causing him to wipe the offending strands away
angrily. He lifted the weapon, pointing the beam upwards and scanning the
banisters around the steps. He wished for a searchlight. A torch. Any kind of
illumination to rid him of the clinging blackness. This was what he feared
the most. As he stepped forward his leg brushed a half-broken
mirror leaning against the wall. It was a tall mirror, as high as he was, and
it toppled forward to smash noisily against the floor. Small shards of
reflective surface scattered around like the so much discarded rubbish it
was. He froze. The sound echoed up the stairwell and obviously
out to the street where the rain had increased. Then he saw the shadow. The movement alarmed him. So much he fired a shot
upwards. The pistol reported once, the energy bolt travelling wildly to where
he thought he had seen the shadow. It tore into the banister and splintered
it violently, sending smoke and small slivers of metal flying in all
directions. He panicked at his reflex and dived for the safety of the first
few steps under the protective cover of other stairs above. Quickly he moved forward. He took one step after another
until he had covered the first three storeys, weapon ready. He looked
intently at each step, hoping to see any sign of anyone else’s passage up the
stairs, but moisture and debris obscured any possible indications. He stopped. He thought he could hear something below, as
if someone outside was shouting. The noise was muffled and distant, obscured
by the falling rain outside. He pressed himself against the wall and
listened. Nothing. Just the falling rain. He remained like that for
what seemed like an eternity, head cocked to catch any sound drifting from
above or below. When he was satisfied he could move he shifted forward. The sound of breaking glass below stopped him on his
ascent. As he edged to the banister to look down, he saw a thin red beam
shine up from below, scanning the stairs and the adjacent walls. How the hell did I
get behind me?
He thought, startled. He moved forward, hoping to get as much distance
between him and himself as he could. There was the sound of a blaster shot and the banister
next to him erupted. Smoke and splinters sprayed his face and he ran. He
could taste blood on his lips and there was pain in his cheek. No
time to think. Just run. Footfalls as soft as possible. Pain in the face.
Don’t think. Move. More safety the higher I go. One step after another. Get
distance between you and the gun below. Don’t think. Just run. Get away. It would not do to die today. The figure in front of him had just pushed another figure
out of the window at the top of the stairs, the unfortunate victim squealing
once and disappearing He almost slid into him as the darkly-dressed man spun
and scrabbled for a weapon he had dropped on the ground. With a deft kick to
the midsection, he sent the apparition falling to the floor. The man looked up at him, eyes wild, hair
damp and matted, face covered in grime and blood. One cheek was cut, with
blood cascading down his face as he regarded the man with a cold gaze. He
smiled as if expecting him. The man dropped his weapon in shock. The
targeting beam criss-crossed the room as it tumbled. They were the same, these two men. Dressed the same, the
same face, the same eyes, the same maniacal features that twitched with every
sound and every sensation. “Who are you?”
he asked, voice wavering, hands shaking. “I’m you,” he
replied, voice hard, hands steady. “But I have to
kill you,” he said, eyes twitching, head spinning. “I know,” he
said, arms flexing, legs heaving as he leapt at him. He bought his hands up
reflexively; somehow managing to grab the man’s collar and heaving him back.
The man staggered back without trying to stop his trajectory towards the
window. He disappeared through the broken glass and was gone with a single
squeal. He stood, hearing some distance behind him a single
blaster shot that he ignored. I understand, he thought, and turned to face
himself as he almost slid into him. I
know I have to stop myself. I know what I have to do. But every time I
try I die. Newell Arrithat sat up in bed and wiped his eyes. The
dream had come again, as expected. Every time he was about to do something
dangerous the dream would be there. Chasing himself.
Chasing his own death. I’m sure some psych
guy can tell me what it means, he thought. The buzzer on his cabin sounded for attention. “Newell?” came
the tinny voice from the speaker. “Yes, Ryath.” He
climbed from the bunk. “We’re about to make Janos planet fall. You
ready?” He stood and looked at himself in the room’s small mirror
over the washbasin. He let out a deep sigh. “Are you?” he
said to the reflection. Dreams
Importance 2000 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Under one year after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories
– Set directly prior to the events of the Bad Religion story and RPG scenario, this shows the inner
workings of the mind of Newell Arrithat, famed gunman and
sharpshooter. Set aboard Goah Galletti’s starship the Shadow of the Phoenix, this is a part of
a sequence of stories that show the harsh life and social structure on Janos – and why so many fear travelling there.
Cast
of Characters
Newell Arrithat Ryath Centaur |