 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Supernova, Prologue: Stupid Planet
Date: 21 June 2006, 11:56 am
Supernova
An ever changing world
Ever changing me
Reveals new pathways
For my soul to see
A light so bright
In your eyes
Casting off shadows
That darken your mind
Shining brighter than the sun
Blinding every eye at once
Fire's burning inside me
Burning light for all to see
A storm will rage
Fade to end before the dawn
A star blazes bright
Before the end is come
A light so bright
In your life
Casting off shadows
Enshrouding your eyes
Shining brighter than the sun
Blinding every eye at once
Fire's burning inside me
Burning light for all to see
Shining,
Blinding,
Everlasting
Prologue: Stupid planet
"Come on, Maynard! Give it all you've got!"
"Yeah, yeah," Maynard sighed, slightly irritated by the relentless barrage of give-them-hell's and go-get-them-Tiger's from his coach on the sideline. The aluminium bat felt heavy and slippery in his sweating palms, poised to swing out of the grasp of his hands and hit the guy on third base in the head if he would do so much as think about not gripping the thing with every inch of his strength.
"Remember to keep those elbows up! Don't bend your knees too much!" Coach Mullen shouted as if the fate of the universe depended on it.
"Sure, coach Windbag," Maynard murmured. He had had about enough of his trainer's cliché run-of-the-mill incentives. To him it was no wonder his team had been bringing up the rear of the school-league five years running. Not that it was a big league: The planet of Kappa Aquila had one relatively small colonized area with only four major cities, and the league for scholars below eighteen years actually encapsulated the entire adolescent populace of the planet.
But in spite of his coach and his team's track record, Maynard loved to play, and he was one of the most dreaded batsmen in the league. With professional concentration he positioned his feet next to the plate, slowly swinging the bat across it to make sure the tip of it went right through his strike zone.
After he was content with the location and alignment of his feet, he bent his knees and lifted his elbows to that one and only ideal stance, which would ensure him of the biggest transmission of power from his arms, his back, even his toes to the bat, meanwhile trying not to take heed of all the nonsense coming from the man in the dugout.
His hands squeezed even tighter around the grip, turning his knuckles unhealthily white. The pitcher cast his first ball with a tremendous speed and an even more astonishing curve, making Maynard wonder how the pitcher could possibly 'aim' the ball, which was in fact a perfect strike. Maynard hadn't moved an inch as the ball whizzed by.
The shouting from the sideline intensified even more as the pitcher received the ball again and readied himself for another devastating throw. The second pitch was even faster and more curved than the first. Maynard could have sworn it would have gone wide, was it not for this inconceivable curve it possessed, turning into his strike zone just before it reached the plate. Strike two. And Maynard still hadn't lifted an eyebrow.
The players on the opposing team were already smiling at the face of another batsman slinking off with three strikes and no hits. The pitcher was one of them, standing in the middle of the game that would probably grant him access to a hefty scholarship. Maynard had seemed totally helpless to his throws, and he saw no reason to change his tactic. He was grinning wide from ear to ear as he put all his power, all his malice in his third and final pitch.
But at this point the time at the field seemed to pause for Maynard. What the pitcher didn't know was that this was exactly where Maynard wanted him. He wanted him to think he was weak, humble and helpless, just another cipher, another willing piece of slaughter cattle on his way to the big league. What he also was oblivious about, was Maynard's ability to see dead-on where the third and final pitch would go to, if he could only see two preceding throws from the same pitcher. I've got you now, chump.
In an explosion of swinging metal Maynard unlocked the broiling energy in his body, itching to leave through his legs, his back, his shoulders, and finally his arms. The bat swung forwards over the plate, hitting the ball dead on its head. Maynard felt the collision of aluminium and leather reverberating through his limbs, and heard it as a dry but utterly satisfying "plunk". He clocked the ball, sending it on its way towards the outfield, meanwhile shattering the image of the perplexed pitcher.
As soon as his swing had come to its end, Maynard released his grip on the bat, threw off his helmet in one fluid motion and started his sprint towards first base. He had never been much of a sprinter, so it took him relatively long to come up to speed. When he had almost reached first, he took a fraction of a moment to assess his situation. He noticed the ball was still on the ground somewhere in the outfield, granting him the opportunity to venture beyond. By the time his foot touched second base, the ball had been picked up and thrown into the infield, making further running uncalled for.
Still panting from the exertion, Maynard took a moment to look around. His coach and fellow team-mates had jumped out of the dugout the moment his bat had made contact with the ball, and were still cheering from the sideline. He could only see the debased pitcher on his back, but even from behind he could still see the disappointment oozing from his stance.
Maynard then turned his keen eyes to the bleachers, hoping to see the familiar visage of that one special girl, Linda Kassel. While he was trying to make out the faces, a little voice inside of him urged him to avert his attention, for he might as well see her sitting in the crowd making out with that dumb-ass boyfriend of her.
Ignoring his fears and jealousy, he kept on searching, finally finding a shape in the back of the thin crowd, which might be her. To Maynard's comfort she wasn't kissing anybody, but she wasn't alone either.
"Maynard Finney, what the hell are you staring at?" Coach Mullen shouted. "Keep your eye on the game, numbnuts, before I come out there and teach you how!"
Maynard quickly turned his attention to the game, slightly embarrassed when he thought about how he had appeared to the spectators, especially Linda. Not that the game exactly needed his attention: the next two batsmen after him had been chanceless against the pitcher, who had shrugged off Maynard's strike, and had thrown six consecutive strikes in a row, all of them equally unhittable.
But then Roland stepped up to the plate. Roland, 'Rule' to the insiders, had been Maynard's best friend for God knows how long, and now it was up to him to get his buddy off second base. Maynard was confident he could do it: Roland was, next to Maynard, by far the best player on their crap-ass team.
The first two throws were strikes again, but Roland wasn't as chanceless as his two predecessors. The second pitch had actually been a foul-ball, spinning off over the sideline and almost decapitating coach Mullen in the dugout, who for once fell silent after this brush with certain death.
The pitcher was turning the ball in his right hand, looking for the seams to give it his trademark lethal curve. Just as he lifted his left leg and charged his body for the throw, the sirens next to the field started to wail, along with the ones in the nearby village, the ones in the city, and every other siren on Kappa Aquila for that matter. The pitcher's arm froze in mid-throw, then released the ball which fell to the ground like an apple.
"Solar flare! Everyone clear the field!"
"No! Shit! This always happens to me," Maynard cursed, kicking against the base in frustration. This was the second time in a month a league-game had to be interrupted for a solar mass-ejection coming from Kappa Aquila's whimsical sun. The danger wasn't as acute as the sirens or the coaches meant to believe. The flare would take another five hours to reach the planet, and even then it wouldn't be instantly fatal. But anyone who didn't want to die of skin cancer by the age of thirty was smart to find a sheltered place.
Roland calmly strolled up to Maynard, who was still standing on second watching with squinted eyes how the bleachers emptied themselves. "Too bad. I really think I could have hit it if that stupid flare wouldn't have spoiled it," Roland said.
Maynard gave his friend a glance, then shifted his attention to the stands again.
"Still looking for Linda?" Roland asked. "I thought I saw her up there."
"Me too. Do you think she saw that strike I made?"
Roland shrugged: "Probably. I don't know. Come, Maynard. Let's go home."
Maynard winced, and followed Roland, who was walking towards the dugout. "Damn it, Rule. Now she didn't even get to see me make a point."
"Yeah, well, even if you did, I think she wouldn't have noticed anyway. I think what's-his-name was up there with her."
"What? He was there? Peter was there? Ah, crap! I didn't want to know that."
"Sorry, pal. But I've tried to break it to you a dozen times; she isn't interested in you in that kind of way. So don't go beat yourself up over her all the time thinking that she actually came here just to watch you play."
Maynard wasn't listening. "Stupid boyfriend, stupid flare, stupid team, stupid planet!"
"Come on, May, let's go to my place. I've got that new game on my holo-console I've been telling you about."
Maynard was still lost in thought. It was just his rotten luck the flare would hit on that particular moment. Stupid boyfriend, stupid flare, stupid team, stupid planet.
Supernova, Chapter One: The Road Home
Date: 26 July 2006, 12:36 pm
Supernova
chapter One: The road home
"Want something to drink, Maynard?"
"Yeah, that would be nice."
While Roland was busy in the kitchen fixing beverages, Maynard sauntered around in the living room and looked through their bookcase.
"Did you buy that new Chiroptera-album yet? I've heard the fans are going ape-shit over it," Roland asked from the kitchen.
"Yes, I bought it last week," Maynard answered absentminded while he was browsing through a book on popular science. It was called "an anthropologist on Mars" by someone called Oliver Sacks.
"Looking for something to read?" Roland said as he walked into the room carrying their drinks.
"What's this book about? I didn't know the colonists on Mars had degenerated so much that they need an anthropologist to study them."
"Haha. No, it's about medical patients with certain mental defects or brain damage," Roland chuckled. "One of those patients is autistic and feels her condition is like being an anthropologist on Mars. Feel free to borrow it, if you like. I don't think my parents would mind."
"Thanks. It sounds interesting," Maynard said while reading the blurb.
Roland plumped down on the black leahter couch and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. "You're welcome. Now would you please move out of the way? You're blocking the TV and the news is about to start."
Maynard frowned his thick dark eyebrows. "Why do you need to see the news? If anything happens on this world we know about it ten times sooner than any reporter."
"I like to stay informed about what's going on beyond the planet, mister Wiseguy. If I ever get off this boring rock I better know what's playing."
Still going through the book Maynard took a seat next to his friend facing the sixty inch viewscreen incorporated into the bookcase. The news came on, showing the sterile and almost featureless face of the best known woman on Kappa Aquila.
"Good day to all. Welcome to the six o'clock news on march second, twenty-six ten, broadcasted to you by the Aquilian News Network. I'm Marianne Smythe. In tonight's issue: The second solar flare within a month has crippled outdoor labor and activities around the planet. Significant damage to the economy is not expected though. Meanwhile the United Nations Space Command reports a major uprise in Covenant forces in the vicinity of Pi Aquarius. UNSC-Supreme Commander Roni Bosilias has ordered all available ships to join the main fleet near Reach. It is expected the armada will depart to strike down the uprising within a month. On a more local matter; the mayor of New Tblisi has decreed…"
"Do you think the Covenant will ever be really defeated?" Maynard wondered.
Roland kept his eyes on the news and took a sip of his drink. "I thought we already had defeated them fifty years ago. Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's just that the Navy has been chasing them ever since, even on their own turf, and there just doesn't seem to come and end to their space, or their ships."
"Yeah, and the Navy keeps knocking them down like the flies some of them are. It isn't much to worry about in my opinion."
"But we've been venturing into the old Covenant realm for decades now, and we still haven't found any of their homeworlds. Don't you think that's weird?"
Roland shrugged. "Not really. It took the Covenant twenty-five years to find Earth, remember? And their empire is probably much bigger than ours at the start of the war."
"Hmm. Maybe you're right. Oh shit!" As if bitten by a snake Maynard jumped up from the couch and reached for his mobile phone. "Damn, I almost forgot. I have to call my mom." Hurriedly he pressed the speed-dial for his parents, knowing his mom was probably going nuts over him. Almost immediately after dialing the receiver was picked up with the familiar, yet stressed sound of his mother's voice. "Hi mom, it's Maynard."
"Maynard! Where the hell are you? Did you get caught in the flare? I've been worried sick here."
"Mom, calm down. You know me better than to think I let myself get rayed out in the open. I'm staying at Rule's place."
His confident words seemed to calm his mother down. "Oh, that's all-right. Just…just cal me sooner when another one hits, ok?"
"I will, mom, and I'm sorry. See you tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, darling, see you tomorrow. Bye!"
"Bye, mom."
The next morning the same sirens that had signaled the onset of the flare gave three quick honks, meaning it was safe to walk outside again. It was a Saturday, so Maynard and Roland weren't in any way obliged to get out of bed early. After having breakfast Maynard said goodbye and stepped out their front door to walk the twenty blocks home.
Because of the countless waves of solar farts most of the daily life on Kappa Aquila went on underground or underneath vast sunroofs fitted out with UV-blocking glass at least two inches thick. Even most of the streets had giant covers, making the inhabited part of the planet look like the biggest conservatory on this side of the galaxy. These domes also retained a lot of the heat coming from the sun, which was actually intended by the designers since Kappa Aquila was quite cold from itself.
Walking down the familiar streets Maynard passed underneath one of the many elevated Maglev train tracks that criss-crossed the urbanized zone. They were not only used for commuting; this was in fact a secondary use. Their main purpose was to facilitate in the transport of the one and only right of existence for this remote colony in the periphery of the human-inhabited galaxy: Titanium-ore. Trainloads of the grey gold were taken to the thriving and bristling foundries every day. From there the coils of A-grade Titanium were transported to the starport, where a superfreighter landed once a month to collect the spoils.
On his way home Maynard started to think again about what Roland had said on the baseball field about Linda. Did she really see nothing in him other than some weird guy she met on guitar practice? He was sure he felt a connection between the both of them whenever he had talked to her. Or was it just his imagination thinking wishfully about something that never was and never would be? Maynard didn't know anymore what to make of it, make of her. This was where his severe lack of experience concerning girls became painfully apparent. It wasn't just that he couldn't fetch Linda's attention; Maynard had never managed to make a lasting impression on any woman, young or old. Linda was the closest thing to a female friend he had, and even she didn't seem to recollect his existence unless he put himself firmly in her line of sight.
Yet, when he did manage to engage in conversation with Linda she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, and even dared to ask more personal things; questions, which came out of leftfield and caught Maynard off guard. Still, his sometimes downright clumsy answers didn't scare her off or deter her to ask for more.
It was this genuine interest when he talked to her on the one side, and her complete lack of initiative to make contact with Maynard as soon as they wouldn't see each other on the other which confused him so much. When was the last time they had done something together? Should he give her a call one of these days? Better sleep over it at home.
This 'home' was a three story duplex in one of New Tblisi's numerous suburbs he shared with his parents and his older brother. If there was anyone on the planet he envied about as much as Linda's boyfriend, it would be his brother. Five years older than Maynard, Anthony was everything his younger sibling aspired to be, and had everything his sibling desired to have: friends galore, a prosperous carreer on the local aeronautical academy, and most of all a gorgeous girlfriend called Maggie.
Walking into his street he tried to shrug off his blues, telling himself he should be thankful for what he had. He had loving and relatively wealthy parents, he'd had a care-free youth, and he was a moderately good student in Engineering at the Aquilan polytechnic university. Most other kids his age didn't share his luxury, but had to cope with life on the wrong side of the Maglev-track, often coming from broken families and being groomed for a life and certain death in the titanium mines. Maynard knew he was lucky and shouldn't complain so much.
Yet, he felt something was not right about his existence, that there was a void in his heart. He had a strong feeling Linda might be the one able to fill it up.
Maynard walked down the front garden of his home and fetched the front door key from his pocket. With the tip of the key a quarter of an inch away from the hole the door swung open, revealing his mother standing in the hallway. In a flash two arms shot forward and pulled her son over the doorstep and into her warm embrace. "Maynard! Finally you're home! I've gotten so worried!"
"Mom, please! People can see us," Maynard sputtered as he gently wrestled out of his mother's loving clutches. "Again, I'm sorry for not calling home right away, but I've said it to you a kazilion times; I'm old enough to know what to do, mom," he said while putting away his jacket and walking into the living room.
"You can't blame a mother for caring about her youngest son, dear," his mother rebutted. "anyway, how did the game go?"
"Normal. The rest of the team sucked except for me and Rule. The other team was leading four to nothing by the time the flare struck."
"So you didn't get to score? I was going to cook your favourite in anticipation of at least homerun."
"Thanks, mom. I was about to score when the sirens wailed, if that's any consolation."
"Of course it is, dear."
Of course it is. I can impress no one as easy as you ,mom. But where is my consolation? Maynard wondered. Oh well.
"Man, I'm exhausted," Anthony sighed as he let himself fall backwards into his father's barkalounger. "Six gruelling hours of written tests, simulator practicals, oral examination, and then some more written tests."
Mom and dad were sitting besides him on the couch, nearly falling on their noses as they tried to hunch closer to their firstborn. Maynard was still sitting in the kitchen trying to fake how unimpressed he was, but meanwhile listening to every word that came out of his brother's mouth.
"No, it wasn't easy, mom. But I think I still aced it pretty hard."
"Really? Did you do it that good?"
"Well, I might not have gotten every single question correct, but I expect it to be sufficient for a high grade."
The moment Anthony confessed on possible faulty answers Maynard got up and walked into the living room. "What questions did you fail on?" he asked brusquely.
Anthony stared into his brother's face for a moment, not knowing how to deal with Maynard's impertinence. "Well, there was this one weird problem, but it was more like a bonus. First they asked us to plot a course for Delta Cygni, some dismal system in another part of the periphery. Then they awarded bonuspoints for also calculating a course for Earth from that same system."
"That shouldn't be too hard," his father commented with confidence.
Anthony swivelled around in the chair. "Yeah, well, yes and no. Because Delta Cygni isn't in the neighbourhood of anything important, stellar charts of that area are not very accurate. To get the calculation started you have to take sort of a guess about where Earth is supposed to be, and then proceed from there. I got this question in the last hour, and I must have been having some kind of a meltdown, because I couldn't figure out a proper vector for Earth." Anthony leaned back again. "But it doesn't matter, really; as I said it was more of a bonusquestion."
Maynard remained unimpressed by his brother's story and the irritated looks coming from his parents. "Meltdown; that's a nice way of putting it."
"What's your problem, Maynard?" his mother intervened. "Aren't you happy for your brother?"
"Sure, sure. There's no problem, I just like to hear about interstellar navigation, that's all."
After putting out this fire between him and his brother before it had even flared up, the attention shifted back to Anthony and his glorious victory over education again. Incapable of caring and having nothing left to say Maynard retired to his room without any of his family noticing.
|
