[5] "I know this is strange, grandmother, but I truly don't remember. There are some things I can recall, like the holy tongue, but the majority of my past is just...blank. I suffered some head injury."
You lift your shirt over your side, reveal the old bandages that wrap around your abdomen, coated in sweat and grime. For the first time, you realize that you have a dull ache there, not feeling the pain anymore.
"A man named Doc Mitchell saved me, but he was killed that night by a bandit. I killed the man with Doc Mitchell's gun, but the shotgun caused a house fire, and Doc Mitchell's house burned down."
"Hopefully, I can regain my memories. When I do, you'll be the first one I tell." You duck your head in a slight, respectful bow, [20], but notice something off. Mother Nicole has both her hands under the table. Her eyes are cold and calculating in an instant, openly hostile.
"Did Doc Mitchell tell you how he found you?" She asks, watching you intently.
[17] "No."
[7+2] She visibly relaxes, her expression hidden once more. "A drunk said you fell out of the sky."
[6] "So let's do this. You don't tell anyone anything about my plans, and I don't tell anyone about you being a [demon]. Sound fair?"
[17] You hesitate, eyes widening as you look at Mother Nicole. Beneath her desk, there's the faintest of sounds, a reactor warming up.
[20] "Yes, Mother Nicole." It is all you can manage to stutter out those three words. She relaxes, giving the nod, the reactor of whatever firearm she has aimed at your lower body powers down.
"If there's an impulse for you to harm or maim somebody, don't act on it unless they truly deserve it. If there are voices in your head, do not listen. If you have an urge to sneeze or cough on a group of people, do not do it. Do you understand? If you break any of these, and I find out, I'll kill you myself."
"Yes, Mother Nicole."
"Good. Good. Tell people you have amnesia, remembering nothing but for your dear old gran. You stumbled in, half delirious from exhaustion and dehydration. I'll send you letters describing your family to you. Dismissed."
You rise, hesitating to turn your back. But, you do anyway. Mother Nicole had plenty of opportunities, yet she didn't. That's a form of trust.
...
Shutting the door to the apprentice rooms, you find your cot from the night before and slump into it. Sleep comes quickly.
--
[1/1d2]
You run, and run, and run, skidding down metal corridors that look like they want to devour you. Pain burns through your Body, a massive gash across one shoulder, the skin turning gray around the wound.
But you run as fast as your little legs can take you.
Not fast enough. You fall to the floor, a sudden, heavy weight pressing down on your legs. Snip.
It stands now on your leg. Blood booms outward, staining the corridor again.
A tentacle presses into your back, slicing through your flesh like a hot razor into butter. Its jaws wrap around your abdomen--
[20]
Fire erupts down the hallway, sending the creature flying with the smell of burning bug. The flames that lick at it are multi-hued.
He turns you over, lifting you into his arms and rushing down the hallway.
"Medic! Medic! Its Alphira!"--
When Eric shakes you awake, you feel incredibly well-rested. "Come on, Pheobe. You're going to be late." You notice that your duster is gone, replaced by a clean, brand new version, adorned with the symbol of the Holy Seed. Beneath it, you realize, is an [equation, involving carbon and iron, with a nine beside it] A gun in its holster, you know, sits within. A newly folded, clean grey shirt, all sharp angles, a grey pair of formal pants, and a pair of new boots, trimmed with fur, all sit atop it. A pair of tight leather gloves and a hat sit nearby.
You nod to Eric, giving a glance to your clothes and him. He blinks, and then makes his exit while you change.
Inside is a note, "I'll keep the other duster for you. Love Grandma."
You rise, heading out into the lunchroom to grab a bowl of grain-meal and start your day.
Its mid-afternoon when your medical check is complete. The Sister Doctor treated you efficiently, removing your stitches and replacing your bandage. She tells you that your wound will heal within another week. You, more experienced with your Body, suspect a day or two.
She prescribes you an antibiotic, which you begin to take.
You are given time to straighten your uniform and say goodbye to loved ones or family. Eric's well-dressed father is here, gently patting him on the head, by his side is a young woman who continually smiles at Eric. Across from them is a tall girl, with blond hair and dark clothing, slouching between two massive bodyguards.
A blond man approaches them, giving the young girl a chaste hug and a genuine smile. [13] You focus, however, on the gun jammed into the belt of his duster. 'For Polly' is engraved on the barrel in gold trim. Ornate gold leaves coil into vicious thorns.
A miner sees off his son, beaming happily. There are others, but the variations are minute. No one comes for you-- or so you think until you feel Mother Nicole fussing with the back of your duster. You flinch, and she smacks you upside the head. "Sit still, brat; you messed up the seam."
"Be safe. A friend of mine will check in on you when you land. His name is Tyler Hop. I trained him myself. He'll be your contact." She murmurs, softly, "If anything is too juicy for mail, or you think it is, send it through him."
When she finishes, she leaves, then you trudge onto the landing pad, just as a ship touches down — a large passenger hover-craft, filled with teens your age or younger. A bubbling sick feeling rises within you, sense of hopelessness that you tamp down.
You take a seat, and Eric sits beside you, smiling dopily. You watch as the ground lifts away, the village following suit, and then you're soaring north, over the mountains. Farmland stretches out beneath you, and for the first time, you feel a little more at ease, being this far up, within these confines of a ship.
How do you approach the Academy? What are your goals going to be?
You don't remember who you are.
You are peckish.
Your side aches.
Neck:
A comfortable mesh of grey kevlar. Over Body:
A clean, grey, armored duster, marked with symbols. Torso:
A new, fitted grey shirt with long, tight sleeves. (hidden)
Lower Body:
New, Grey semi-formal pants.Hands:
A pair of leather gloves. Feet:
Woolen socks(hidden)
Feet:
A pair of fur-trimmed leather boots.
In Holster: A brand new, grey las-pistol 250/250
[.075 credits] in local bills
You are under contract with The Brotherhood of Scholars for twenty-five years.
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Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 237565 times)