Community Event / Creation Short Story: The Insurance Policy (pt 1)

[Ian_H]

Hi,
So the following short story represents about the 1st 10% or so of The Insurance Policy, which is:

a) still technically in draft, and
b) is the first thing I've written in about 25 years. So its probably quite rusty, like me. But thanks to David Braben for getting me back into 2 things I haven't done since school!

So I just thought I'd reformat the first part from Word for now, and see if anyone is interested in getting more...you don't even know what the insurance policy is at this point.

Thanks anyways - Ian.

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The Insurance Policy
I​

‘Do you know Commander, the method of execution they have on Gerapar for capital crimes?’ asked the stranger as he entered Martins’ room. Martins quickly looked both ways down the hall way and closed the hotel door after him.

‘Not really. Thousands of inhabited colonies out there, I try not to memorise the fine print of the local politics on every one of them. Especially a place I haven’t been to Mr…?’

‘Sher-wan will suffice’ he said as took the chair at the right of the table. He did not take off his hat, the wide brim of which over-shaded his already dark and gaunt face in the muted light of the room. No hair escaped from it, which meant it was either short or non-existent.

‘Sher-wan. Well, if Gerapar is some regressed religious commune I’d wager they run them through the streets before doing something medieval as a puritan throwback; stoning, burning, hanging and the like. If it’s more tech-oriented they probably go in for something more modern. Atomic dispersal is quite popular these days, considered by many to be the most humanitarian way - by people far wiser than me, I’m sure.’

Martins eyed the alien opposite him. Sher-wan had only just sat down in his room, and this was the first thing he had said? It was unexpected and bold, whatever Sher-wan was here to offer him, it wasn’t your usual black market smuggling run. ‘So what is it they do on Gerapar?’

‘Neither of those things Commander, although it’s perhaps a bit of both mixed together; it’s quite unique in fact. The natives on Gerapar do indeed follow a strict religious doctrine, the colony having been established as a home world for a small religious sect that spans a small number of systems near Arcturus. Their colony allows them to practice fully their religion uninterrupted by secular governments. Thank you, I’m fine for now’ said Sher-wan as Martins poured a drink and gestured the glass to him. Martins kept the glass for himself.

‘The Geraparns’ he continued as Martins sat down opposite him, ‘maintain the belief that all life is spiritually sacrosanct, and that any person who transgresses against the gift of life must be eradicated from polluting the rest of the planet’s life forms - both in this lifetime and forever more. The condemned must be both spiritually and physically sent to hell. So far, so religious. But then they take the requirement to achieve this to the highest tech extremes imaginable. It makes atomic dispersal look like a witch drowning. What the Geraparns want is to ensure that none of the atoms of the accused can ever find their way back into their planets circle of life to pollute the life forms of the righteous. To allow any life on Gerapar to inadvertently absorb even a single atom of a condemned person into them is unthinkable. That means no burning into the air or burial to either the soil or to the sea of the deceased’s body.’

Martins tried to suppress a look of intrigue, but he doubted he managed it.
‘So what, they bury the dead on an asteroid and beacon it off limits?’

Sher-wan shook his head with slow deliberation. ‘Not even close to good enough for the good people of Gerapar I’m afraid. They cite two reasons against such a practice. Firstly is fear of the possibility – however remote - of the deceased’s relatives or associates managing to exhume the remains and returning them into Gerapar’s atmosphere as some sort of karmic payback.’

‘Sounds paranoid’ interrupted Martins.

‘Wait till you hear the second reason. This is along the lines that the average lifespan of a stable-orbit asteroid is not deemed to be nearly long enough for the deceased’s atoms to be removed from polluting another life form. Something longer is required.’

Martins’ eyes widened. Sher-wan let him work out the implication.

‘But then that means…’ he trailed off. ‘Is that even possible?’

‘Well on paper it was all deemed to be perfectly safe up front, but I’m sure there would have been a bit of nervousness the first few times they tried it out. What they do is this. The condemned is bound rigid against an exoskeleton and unable to move a muscle by both physical restraints and by electrical paralysis of the nerves. Then they are placed into a capsule and are placed on life support with intravenous fluids, an oxygen mask and the like to keep them going. Their head is fixated to face out of a forward window at the front of the craft. Finally the capsule is rocketed out of orbit where it is placed on a direct trajectory. Given the distance for the time of year the trip takes about eight of your Terran days and the shielding, cooling and life support systems of the capsule are all state of the art. In particular the forward window is heavily darkened to avoid blinding. The shielding and cooling combined keep the subject alive from irradiation and heat, and the drugs keep them awake for the whole journey. As you may suspect, the idea behind this is to mete out a mortal punishment to the condemned in this lifetime. Still, I can’t begin to wonder what it’s like, watching your impending doom inch ever closer with a front row seat, all the way until bare moments before the vessel plunges into the depths of the star. The moment of execution is broadcast live across the planet for the consumption on the local populace from a squadron of escorting fighters.’

‘Good God.’

Sher-wan flitted an ironic smile from under his hat. ‘Indeed. But that is considered the optimum way to keep the atoms of capital criminals safely away from polluting the good citizens of Gerapar. They also believe the souls of the accused stay trapped within the furnace of their star. The Geraparns can then spiritually claim they did their best until the star goes critical.’

‘And when will that happen, out of curiosity?’

Sher-wan sat back in his chair and opened his hands outwards in an expansive gesture. ‘Ahh, the Universe is barely 13.7 billion years old, Commander’ he grinned. ‘Gerapar is a red dwarf – first generation. It won’t explode for at least a trillion years’.

Martins said nothing; he was still taking it all in.

‘But when it does’, continued Sher-wan, ‘some of the atoms of the condemned will be released to drift through space for millions more years before finding by chance another star system. If that system is inhabitable and the atoms find their way to that planet, only then is the condemned physically and spiritually considered able to return to the circle of life.’

‘If you believe the spiritual aspect, that’s some punishment’.

‘Quite - and they do. Its proponents are quick to point out its effectiveness. The star itself has become a permanent twelve by seven reminder to its inhabitants of the terrible consequences of taking anothers life. The capital crime rate is incredibly low, in the bottom five percentile of the galaxy I believe, and it tends to be more by foreigners who don’t share the same religious claptrap as the Geraparns. As such there have only been sixteen executions since the colony founded forty two years ago, and there hasn’t been an execution in four and a half years.’

‘So why are you telling me this? What does this have to do with whatever it is you are here to offer me?’

If Sher-wan thought Martins was prompting him for the obvious he didn’t show it.

‘I am telling you this because the seventeenth execution capsule will blast off in six days’ time. I need you to help me rescue its occupant - and our ultimate benefactor - before it reaches its final destination.’

‘Give me a moment’ Martins said. He downed the alcohol, reopened the bottle and poured another. He gestured an empty glass to Sher-wan. ‘Why not’, he said, smiling.

 

[Ian_H]

On paper this was the craziest thing Martins had heard. He had no doubt that the religious classes ruling Gerapar were extremist zealots, but that made them the most dangerous kind to deal with. As much as he disagreed in the madness of their method, who was he to interfere with their legal system. Martins finished pouring and passed a glass to Sher-wan, closed the bottle and picked his own glass up again.

‘I’m sure the Federation recognises the legality of the colony or it wouldn’t be there. Who is this criminal that you’d risk everything to save?’

‘In your tongue he is Hercene Dei Ba-Murnn. In his own tongue he goes by several names. As for his occupation, well he is a person much like yourself. Trader by day, some-time smuggler and mercenary by night. As needs fit and as time suits’.

Martins resented at some level being compared with a man he’d never met by a man he didn’t know, even if Sher-wan had surmised his own activities fairly enough.

‘Why should I help? What’s in it for me? I hope you’re not here to try and convince me to rescue a wrongly accused man. I’m not typically known for my sense of justice.’

‘Quite – otherwise why would we both be here? I actually don’t know the circumstances of the conviction, innocent or guilty. I am sure I will find out the truth of the charges from Hercene once he has been freed. What I do know is that he cannot be allowed to die under any circumstances.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because Hercene is the only individual alive who is aware of the location of the Majakian statue.’

‘Yes, I remember that’ said Martins, ‘the most priceless artefact in Altairian society. Its theft kicked up a huge stink for months. There’s quite a reward out for information leading to its recovery’.

‘So there should be. It would be like… well, like stealing the Mona Lisa to your own species I’d wager’ said Sher-wan as he drank his liquor. ‘Think of the scandal that would cause to you Earthers. Yes, the statue is the Altarians’ Mona Lisa, and only Hercene knows where it is. In fact, he is the one who had it stolen. Good whisky’, he commented.

Martins ignored both the bait and the herring. ‘It’s a figurine of the founder of Altair if I recall correctly?’

‘Yes, it has a flawless pink diamond cut as its heart, encased in artificial white diamond cut into the likeness of Majek, the first man on and the founding father of Altair. Whilst publicly the Altairian’s strive to secure its return legally through both their own agencies and those of the Federation, privately they would be willing to pay whatever it takes through the black market to get it back. As I said, the only person who knows where it is now is Hercene. And the only person who even knows Hercene has it is me.’ Sher-wan paused to drink the whisky. ‘And you’ he said, smiling from behind the glass rim.

‘How do you know he has it? He could be pulling your chain’.

‘He showed it to me. I held it in my hands. He let me scan it to verify its authenticity’.

‘And you really don’t know where he has it now?’ asked Martins.

Sher-wan’s face soured in derision. ‘Of course not! I wouldn’t be rescuing him otherwise. The statue is his insurance policy to cover for eventualities like this. What he told me was this: save his life when it needed to be saved and he would pay me well for it. One million credits up front, one million upon rescue. Plus the figurine, which as you mentioned yourself, is priceless.’

‘That is a very, very generous insurance policy’ remarked Martins.

‘Perhaps it is, but then how much would you value your own life if it came to it? What would you give away to save it, or what else would allow to be sacrificed in order to keep it? No don’t answer that one. However,’ Sher-wan sighed, ‘it was always going to come down to what spot of bother he got himself into. With his current predicament I don’t have the resources alone to reliably affect the rescue. I need to bring in outside help to operate successfully…and efficiently’.

‘I see’ said Martins, ‘by efficiently you mean you don’t want to have to split the reward too many ways’.

‘Hired guns aren’t cheap, and more importantly I’m not the Federation. I don’t have an army of replaceable ships funded by citizens. But in this case just one additional very well-equipped ship will be more than sufficient for what I have in mind. Your Eagle, it is armed as you stated online I take it?’

Martins nodded.

‘Very well then. It seems I like you Commander and if you don’t believe me on that, then that’s for you. So maybe this will help, accept the mission and I will give you half the credits I will receive from Hercene, which is after all five hundred thousand more than the advertised bounty when you registered your interest in the mission to me online. And I will pay fifty percent up front here and now, by card DNA payment.’

‘Hmm’ Martins murmured.

Likely Hercene was paying Sher-wan far more than he had claimed, but he couldn’t exactly haggle on a price he had already put his hand up for. Sher-wan’s doubling of the price killed any notion of haggling. He wondered for a moment if he was really being given a choice to accept or not after the story he has been told. Would Sher-wan really let him walk with the knowledge he had just shared? Martins put it to the back of his head and left it there; he had the self-assurance he could take care of himself that was mandatory in this business. So then - he had the objective and he had the price; only one thing still missing to consider the contract.

‘If you know you only need just one more ship, you must have a detailed plan of some kind’.

‘Not so fast Commander. My time is short and my need is great, so before I spend any more of it with you I need to know now; providing my plan is reasonable and sound are you in?’

Martins looked at Sher-wan from across the table. He turned away for a moment and looked absently through the filtered window at the rose tinted sun setting across the spaceport and making it glow pink as he thought it all through.

‘Providing it’s reasonable to my own satisfaction Sher-wan, but I will want all the details I ask of you now and I will want to talk through any and all permutations I can think of myself’ said Martins swirling his glass in front of him. ‘If I am happy with your plan after that, then very well - I’m in.’

‘Agreed’ said Sher-wan raising his glass, ‘what is it you people say? Cheers?’

‘Cheers’ Martins replied, raising his glass in return before finishing it.

*​

 

[Ian_H]

II​

The crowd ebbed and flowed in ripples around the city square. Far too many people were still trying to squeeze closer to the front to get the best view of the stage in front of the launch pad. Evidently, Martins decided, the pair of screens showing the televised relay that reached two story’s high on either side of the square weren’t enough for most fanatics. He was fine and happy standing at the back where he had enough room to move his arms freely and could hold his binoculars up. Their augmented HUD gave him a better magnification than the screens did anyway. The stage was being kept clear by about a dozen uniformed officers who stood guard with automatics. They each wore earpieces keeping them in touch with the security control tower at the square’s rear. Martins could see plenty more officers lining the roofs of the buildings around the sides, but he didn’t think it wise to point his binoculars their way long enough to count them. The range finder showed the stage itself some sixty meters away. It was made of a rough-hewn blue stone, the same stone used for the square buildings, and with an inset path leading to the centre of it from the left hand building. In the middle of the stage was an oval with a single microphone stand from where the ceremony would be conducted. He couldn’t see it, but it was known there was an energy shield in front of it to prevent any assassin in the square from granting Hercene any notion of mercy. At the far side of the oval stood a chassis that provided the exoskeleton frame to which Hercene would be bound to. Away to the rear of the stage, positioned in a gap between the square buildings, stood the rocket capsule that would carry Hercene up to Gerapar. The rockets open door was covered in a visible energy shield, doubtless to stop any foreign body entering the craft before the ceremony. A single guard stood to attention next to it.

‘Yes, the views much better from back here isn’t it? You can see everything you want without being jostled around like cattle. Anyway, my glasses here see far better than I could on my own nowadays.’

Martins lowered his binoculars and turned his head to the decrepit Geraparn who had taken his position next to him. The colonist’s own viewer was attached around his head keeping his arms free to lean on his stick. Two thin worn leather straps crossed over his nearly bald crown to hold the viewer in place, a few remnants of white hair poking through each quarter. Some flies buzzed around him, in the late spring heat the flies far outnumbered the people. The motorised lenses whirred as they focused on Martins.

‘Ah, you are not of the people, are you here on holiday to enjoy the spectacle, sir?’ He spoke in the heavy dialect of someone who had spent their whole life on this rock, and he wore the simple utilitarian dress of the Geraparn sect.

‘You could say that’ replied Martins. ‘Certainly I am here to see the ceremony.’

‘The purification you mean. Very good, very good, then you are our honoured guest here. My name is Rodan.’

‘Thank you’ replied Martins not offering his own name, ‘I admit, there is much I do not understand about the purification’.

‘It is not often we get to give it. Why, for most visitors to our planet it is a once in a lifetime experience’ exclaimed Rodan, grinning.

‘As it is for the condemned too’, remarked Martins drily. ‘So I understand this man, Hercene, he committed murder?’

‘This…darshok.’ Rodan spat the word out by their feet in disgust. ‘We no longer speak the name of the condemned. His life is forfeit, his name now also.’

‘I see, I apologise for saying his name. I meant no offence’.

The old man shrugged, ‘You were not to know. But only in the history books are the names of the condemned recorded to be read by our descendants. After the sentence is passed in court it is never uttered again by a Geraparn, except by the overseer who will conduct today’s purification.’

‘I see. The overseer, he was also the judge I gather?’

‘Yes, that is the way. The judge who passes sentence, oversees its communion legally. It is the highest honour of being a judge. But don’t view us too harshly, I see by your expression you are not convinced by the notion.’

Martins tried to remove any look of scepticism he may have given off.

‘Fear not my guest, we are not uneducated. We would never stand by the notion of judge, jury and executioner. The jury must find the guilt separately on their own, not the judge.’

‘But may I ask, does the judge direct the jury in summing up?’

‘He does.’

‘And the highest honour for a judge is to be an overseer?’

‘…It is’ answered Rodan simply, if slightly slow for even his advanced years to accommodate without suspicion.

‘Sounds reasonable to me’ said Martins not wanting to push the subject. ‘May I also ask if the condemned is allowed any final requests?’

‘Oh, meals and the like? No, no. A solid meal would not practical anyway given the nature of the execution’ replied Rodan, warming up to the role of tour guide. ‘He would have been on liquid nourishment now for two days already. However, a darshok is allowed final visitation rights with any relatives. It has been reported that this darshok did have a family member who jumped in just yesterday to say their goodbyes. We allow this for all condemned, so you see, we are not uncivilised.’ Rodan smiled broadly, as if seeking some sort of approval.

‘And’, he continued, ‘he is also allowed to say any final words on the podium before he is strapped to the carriage. Whether the darshok says anything is one of the highlights, there’s always a lot of betting made on that. Many of them don’t – too **** scared by the prospect of eternity in hell. Funny that, they’re never as scared when they’re committing the crime than in taking the punishment for it,’ said Rodan laughing at his own joke. Martins smiled thinly back in return.

‘People also wager on the fortitude of the darshok. Will he go willingly? Or will he need to be forced, or assisted, or even both into his vessel? My dear honoured guest, eight out of the fifteen before today lacked the courage to take their punishment like men. I myself have a small amount on his being forced’ said Rodan eagerly.

‘But enough of this!’ he exclaimed. ‘You can see it for yourself, the lights are coming on’.

Martins looked up to the front of the square and raised his binoculars. The crowd had hushed and both screens had fixated on the metal door to the left of the platform. Three blue lights had illuminated above it. The right hand light turned off, and then the middle; the crowd murmured in anticipation, the left light went out. The door slid back instantly, and the crowd roared its cacophony and surged at the barriers. Hercene stood in the doorway, hands bound, legs shackled and with his neck collared. A short pair of cables hung out of the collar, and a small socket was visible between them awaiting the insertion of a connecting tube of some sort. Save for the regulation black prison shorts that ran to just above the knee, Hercene was naked.

 

[Ian_H]

The overseer appeared by his side wearing a puritan uniform of monotone black. He walked out first, and turned left and proceeded in front. Hercene was prodded forward, two armed guards holding on each arm as they followed the overseer. They guided him up the platform steps while the mob bayed and screeched around him. Martins centred and magnified his viewer closer on Hercene. He was physically unremarkable, but emotionally Martins admired his mental control as he looked ahead stone faced with a grim determination, walking steadily of his own volition. The black curls of his hair cascading unkempt and filthy short of his shoulders. Martins doubted he would need to be dragged or physically forced to his fate as Rodan had predicted. He lost him momentarily as he walked behind the row of soldiers standing guard on the stage. Hercene entered the circular dais and was motioned to stop by the guards in front of the exoskeleton and before the overseer who had turned to await him on the centre stage. The overseer turned and raised his hands to address the crowd even as they fell silent for their conductor.

‘I, Severain Minaria, Lord High Justice of the chosen people of the Gerapar, do hereby proclaim and oversee this purification from our homeland, from our people and from our spirits of this man, Hercene Dei-Ba Murnn, who I now pronounce forever as darshok.’

Jeers, whistling, yelling from the crowd; Severain raised his left hand to silence them.

‘We, by the divine laws of our God, have found this darshok guilty of murder by trial. Guilty of the murder of six innocent citizens of Gerapar, whilst in the service of God and to us, his chosen people. His crimes are as follows: the murder of the brothers Lars and Henrik Gaustav, the only children of Alyssa Gaustav. Murdered by the darshok whilst serving as holy servants to the people during his attempt to steal the Star of Gerapar, the holiest relic of our people.’

‘The murder of three of our guards during his attempt to flee our world.’

‘Astar Lombardi.’

‘Isamond Durell.’

‘Valerin Kirsk.’

‘The murder of Mathieu Anderlei, an innocent of our people, murdered as nothing more than a bystander shot in the firefight by the darshok, before his eventual capture.’

All of the charge sheet was read out to complete silence by Severain. ‘As such I must give the only sentence our God finds permissible onto this man. Before I do so, I will allow the darshok to say any final words as he may wish.’

Severain walked over to Hercene and motioned to him to speak. Martins magnified the viewer to fill the screen with Hercene’s face but even this close up he gave no emotion away. When he spoke it was in a manner quiet and composed and cold.

‘I warned you before against this. I will have my revenge on you this I swear to you now. The atoms of all the condemned will rain down upon you all. Your God will not save you for no God exists for any who claim it alone for themselves. Your land will be laid waste, and your people will perish scattered and forgotten.’

While he spoke, a fly landed on Hercene’s cheek and walked towards his lips. Hercene jerked his head and grabbed the fly and ingested it in a single motion.

‘See,’ said Hercene, raising his voice as his composure gave way to rage, ‘already I have claimed an innocent life form of Gerapar to join me in your self-made hell.’ Now he shouted out to the square, ‘you’ll look up at your star, you’ll look up and know one innocent life of your miserable planet is already paying the price of my vengeance. The rest of you will follow its fate it soon enough. Here, have my atoms now!’, and he spat in the face of the overseer.

The crowd went wild at this.

‘Heee’ shouted Rodan over the protests of the mob, ‘the overseer and all life forms that assist the purification are specifically exempted from any harm caused to them from the darshok. They are in effect guaranteed a place in heaven for their service to Gerapar. That includes the fly, unprecedented as that was. The fools outburst was quite meaningless’.

The overseer for his part said nothing but took out a cloth and slowly wiped the spittle off. He twice-folded the cloth neatly to contain it and returned to the microphone to command the audience quiet one more time.

‘The sentence is eternity in hell. God will have no mercy on your soul.’

The overseer nodded once towards Hercene as the crowd became frenetic. The guards lifted him up from each side to hold him against the exoskeleton as the four medics strapped his torso to the frame, and then strapped his legs four times on each side. Then they took away the shackles from his legs and untied his hands, before strapping each arm down to the frame. His head was likewise restrained with a silver band that was tightened around the forehand and clamped back against the chassis. To all of this Hercene gave no resistance, much to Rodan’s obvious disappointment. The two cables from the collar were plugged into sockets from the frame. The red light on the collar went yellow.

‘Partial paralysis’, shouted Rodan over the masses, ‘he can’t move voluntarily below the collar but he can still breathe on his own until he is connected inside to the life support’.

Severain carefully placed the cloth into the shorts of Hercene. Then he signalled for the chassis to be tilted upwards and wheeled over by the medics to the open door of the rocket under the overseer’s supervision. The guard by the rocket switched off the doors energy shield and Severain stepped inside. The medics followed pulling the chassis in behind them. A robotic camera drone went last as the guard restored the energy shield. Martins lowered his viewer as the screens in the square changed their feed to relay the drone’s pictures from inside the ship. The group ascended the craft till they reached the conical forequarters. The midday sun streamed in through the forward window. Severain activated the window filtering and it cut the sunlight down. Then the medics moved the chassis into the window spare where it clipped into place against the retaining frame of the ship. Corresponding locks on the ship frame then moved into place.

The medics worked to attach a black cable to the nozzle in Hercene’s collar, and fixed an air tube to the mask. An elasticated band was placed above the collar under the jawline. This Rodan explained was to provide paralysis of the mouth to prevent Hercene biting off or swallowing his own tongue to suffocate before his time. The chassis was then cabled to the ship. The yellow chassis lights turned red.

‘The chassis is now being fully powered from the ship’, explained Rodan. Before Martins could reply, one of the medics pulled a nozzle out of the bottom of Hercene’s shorts from the left leg and attached it to a tube leading into the ship structure.

‘So’ Martins asked without turning from the screen, ‘when did they do that?’

‘The catheter is inserted shortly before the purification. It’s not known if they always use anaesthetic, but you’ll find no-one here sympathetic if they didn’t.’

One of the medics operated a control panel next to the chassis and the lights on the collar also turned red. ‘And that’s the life support engaged’ said Rodan, as a triumphant cheer echoed around the square at the milestone.

From entering the ship the whole process had taken no more than three minutes. Severain nodded assent, and the medics filed out the room and left the two of them together.

‘You shared me your saliva darshok, it is only fair I share of myself to you in return’ said Severain, and he drew from his robe a small dagger and sliced his right thumb open with it. He pressed it into Hercene’s ear and held it there.

‘I pray my atoms will help cleanse your soul of your evil in the eons it has to come inside Gerapar. Goodbye’.

The camera drone followed Severain as he turned and walked out of the ship. The screen Martins was viewing on the left switched back to the courtyard, and Martins put his viewer back up to cover the entrance. He noticed a woman being led forcibly onto the oval. Severain appeared at the door, the guard lowered its shield and he stepped through, the camera drone trailing behind him. Severain turned around and pressed the buttons on the control panel that closed the steel door. Then he returned to the podium and stood with the woman.

‘As you all know, this woman, Lyanna Parseine, one of our own people, was accomplice to the crimes of the darshok. We know she was his lover’.

The jeers and insults and threats of the mob rained down on her. Lyanna wept on the court, the bruises and marks from her own sentencing all too visible. Severain let the abuse go a touch longer than the previous interjections of the crowd before raising his left hand again.

‘The hand that aided the evil, shall dispatch it!’ Severain announced to the mass consent of the crowd. ‘Do it now Lyanna, or you will join him on the next perigee with the Sun of our Lord!’

Lyanna sobbed. What strength not already beaten out failed her then and she fell to her knees. Expressionless, Severain simply lifted her to her feet and held her wrist, forcing her hand palm down onto the podium. The rocket engines blasted from behind building up its deafening crescendo. The steam plumed away to the right in the breeze as it lifted away from the square, the orange flames lighting up the masses and warming them. For some time, nothing could be heard over the noise of the rocket, thunder shaking and vibrating through the ground. The noise subsided only slowly, but it was enough to hear Rodan shouting over it by his side.

‘Now I must leave, honoured guest. Although you are not one of us, if you wish to join us in giving thanks for the blessing you have observed you may come with me to the main mass. I am going now to get a head start on the crowd. At my age the last thing I need is to be jostled around in the dash to get the best seats. Farewell!’ smiled Rodan.

‘Perhaps I will – farewell’, replied Martins, returning the courtesy even as Rodan hurried off with his stick.

The noise slowly dimmed further as Martins and the crowd watched the rocket slowly recede into the sky. As the roar abated it was slowly replaced by something else, something rhythmic. Martins could not place it. But as the rocket diminished further it became louder and he recognised it - the peeling of temple bells all across the holy capital of the colony were ringing out. The crowd that had roared in excitement at the blasting of the rocket fell quiet in their presence. Up on the stage, Severain and his assistants began to make their way single file with Lyanna under guarded escort back to the prison building. The screens had faded to black, the feed replaced with a simple text in memorandum of and listing the deceased victims of Hercene. With this, the crowd filed out to leave for the temples. Martins left amongst them, hoping that Sher-wan had completed his end of the plan.

*​

 

[Minti2]

Next part please! Really enjoyed reading those extracts, lovely descriptive writing and flowed so well, and the hook of what the plan is to rescue the convicted is laid out well, I suspect there may be a twist at the end, either way dont leave it hanging I want to see how this finishes, great story so far

 

[Ian_H]

Hi,
Thanks for replying - the last two parts of the story are already up at the following thread... Parts 3 and 4.

Thanks for reading and the positive feedback.

I am quite keen to know if people thinks it needs more Elite references adding in to it, and any other suggestions are welcome too.... cheers!