February 14th, 2003
She opened her eyes to a white blur.
Mark? She tried to speak but the word wouldnt form. Her jaw seemed unable to move, her lips were frozen in place. All that emerged was a piteous sounding moan, more breath than voice. She looked around but her eyes refused to focus. Several human-like figures moved around; grayer shapes on that field of unrelenting whiteness. She tried to call out to them. Tried to ask them what was going on.
One of them turned to her then, still indistinct and hazy.
Someone get Doctor Allen, her eyes are open.
But Jennifer had slipped back into the comforting darkness once more.
* * *
February 18th, 2003
You wont be able to speak for some time, Im afraid, Doctor Allen told her. He was an older gentleman who spoke with a southern drawl. Indeed, everything about him was southern gentleman through and through. The damage to your face was extensive and we had to wire your jaw shut so the tendons could heal. Your skin was also heavily damaged but you were lucky there; our hospital boasts the best cosmetic surgeon on the east coast. You have some light scarring but it could have been a lot worse. He smiled and then sighed softly, the smile dying into serious lines. The worst part is your hands and arms. The bones in them are shattered. Weve had our best surgeons look at the x-rays and we think we can avoid amputation, but I need you to understand what youre facing. There will likely need to be several surgeries, perhaps even a dozen or more. We will literally have to piece your bones back together and hold them in place with surgical steel plates and pins. After restructuring them you will have to undergo a long period of physical rehabilitation. It wont be easy. I wont lie to you Jennifer; even if we are completely successful with the surgeries the prognosis is still grim. At best you can hope for 25% recovery of basic motor skills in your hands. And that might be an optimistic estimate.
She stayed silent because she had no choice. But in her head she was telling him she wouldnt give up. Shed make it through the physical therapy because shed promised Mark. Shed promised him she wouldnt let go.
Doctor Allen must have seen the determination in her eyes because he nodded with a pleased smile. Then, once again, the smile seemed to become strained at the corners. He sighed and reached into the pocket of his lab coat. She realized it was the same pocket Mark had reached for just before his death.
We found this in your mouth when you reached the emergency room, he explained. Ive been informed that the cameras that recorded everything that transpired in the lab showed Doctor Amberton placed it there just before
well
just before the end.
He held up the small object in front of her eyes so she could see it properly since she was still unable to lift her head under her own strength.
It was an engagement ring.
My mind wanders so often you've probably seen its picture on milk cartons. - Me... the first person version of the third person Steelclaw
July 21st, 2009
So you see, Jennifer said, sitting back in the deep cushions of the high backed chair. I had a lot going against me. I suppose I could have given up hope, but I had good reason to keep fighting. Not that the news got any better after that.
She stood up and began pacing. The eyes of the rooms only other occupant followed her.
No one visited me in the hospital, she said, pausing to pick up one of the many leather bound tomes in the small private library. She flipped through a few pages then set it aside indifferently. I thought that was odd all things considered. At first I pretended I didnt care; it hurt too much to really think about it. Besides, I was strung out on pain killers and not really able to think too clearly. When I did get around to asking I found out that my friends all had come to visit me. At my memorial service. Would you believe I had been declared legally dead? I was approached by a couple government agents who reminded me of the non-disclosure agreement I had signed and the oath of confidentiality I had sworn. My Mark died. I was torn apart, my hands nearly useless and my face in shreds and the only thing they cared about was keeping their dirty little secrets.
Jennifer stopped talking, staring down into the fire that merrily crackling in the large fireplace. She watched those flickering flames for a time then turned to look around the room admiringly.
This really is a wonderful place youve built here, she noted with a smile. Youve done wonders with it, truly. Ah, but I am letting myself get distracted. Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes. So they put a gag order on me while I was still in the hospital and doped up on pain killers. And they say chivalry is dead! So, I was no longer allowed to be Jennifer Halloway. It was actually illegal for me to be her anymore since the government had insisted she was dead. Thats almost funny, you know? I would include that in my memoirs
if I were allowed to write them that is.
She resumed her pacing, stopping occasionally to run her hand up and down the rich oak moldings. Her companion watched her silently.
To make a long story shorter by a smidge or two, I made it through the surgeries and dove into the rehabilitation with as much gusto as I could muster. The rehab was much more painful and exhausting than the surgeries ever could be. They all said they were happy with my progress but I wasnt. So I could wiggle my pinky finger a centimeter or two
so what? They called THAT progress? She waved one of the hands in question through the air. The flesh that covered them was pasty white with splotches of gray here and there upon them. The forearms looked wasted and thin; the hands almost skeletal in appearance. Her fingers were curled into talons though they did move slightly now and again when she gestured.
But something strange was happening, she said, her voice quickening with obvious excitement. The less pain killers I took, the more I had this
well.. this feeling that there was something inside me. Some kind of energy
some presence that had not been there before. It was then that I stopped taking them altogether. The pain was extraordinary
So bad that I almost stopped sleeping. Even now I can only sleep maybe 4 hours in every 72. But even as the pain was getting worse, that sense that I had changed somehow grew as well. Then, one day, I was straining to straighten my hands by this exercise where you touch your fingertips together then slowly bring your palms in. The pain was magnificent. My palms were still about three inches apart. I pushed a little too hard the agony just flared up
and when it did
a small blue white spark of energy appeared between my palms.
She looked at her companion as though expecting him to scoff at her statement. He said nothing. She raised a twisted hand, palm towards him as if to forestall any comments.
I know.. I know
it sounds mad, she laughed. But I swear its true. I was so startled that I lost concentration and it blipped out of existence. I thought for sure I had imagined the whole thing. Just to make sure I tried it again and would you believe
? The spark popped right back between my hands again! And I knew what that spark was
sure I did
Hadnt I been within two inches of plunging face first into it? Hadnt I lost my hands to it? It was the spark in the Cylinder! For some insane reason I could create wormholes!
She stopped beside the large mahogany desk at the end of the room opposite the fire. She sat down in the chair behind it, looking at her companion. The fire light played across her features, for it was the only light source in the room. She slid her misshapen hands around the various papers and pens atop the blotter, moving them randomly.
I had a setback, she admitted. It was my fault really. I was so excited at the possibilities this opened up for me. I pushed too hard. I may have even gone a little bit crazy. I can see that now. The first thought that occurred to me was that I could use my power to get Mark back. I could create a wormhole next to him and pull him back through to our world. I knew he would be dead. But there are powerful healers of both magic and science; surely one of them could bring him back to me. So, I attempted to make an even bigger wormhole. One large enough for me to see Jupiter through, to see his body and then retrieve it. It was a foolish idea. He had been lost over six years ago in a storm even bigger than the state of Texas. But in that moment it seemed so logical. So easy.
She opened one of the drawers and gave a happy little sound. Reaching down she clumsily brought up a bottle of Johnny Walker. She looked over to her host. Do you mind?
He didnt answer, didnt even nod, but she took this as permission. She tried to open the bottle but couldnt get her fingers to cooperate. Finally she gave a frustrated snort and narrowed her eyes. A bright blue white spark the size of a baseball appeared at the top of the bottle, like a flame atop a candlestick. When the spark disappeared the glass that had been within it was gone. The truncation line on the bottles neck was smooth and curved. She tipped the bottle enough to slosh enough into the glass to fill it halfway. Holding the tumbler between the heels of both hands she lifted it and drank.
Excellent, she sighed in pleasure. In addition to having such a beautiful home I have to admit you are a gracious host. Ah, but I am meandering again and the hour is growing late. When I pushed my new found powers I felt a rather intense pressure just behind my eyes. Unfortunately, I ignored it. When I pushed even harder I felt my face explode in agony. I thought it was purely mental pain until I saw my shirt was soaked in blood. I touched my face and my hand came away wet with it. I managed to call 911 before I passed out. Apparently that was a side effect of my power. Whenever I create a wormhole, the power exerts a strong gravitational push just under the flesh of my face. The stronger my effort, the harder that push becomes. When I tried to create such a large wormhole, I literally ruptured the skin of my face along the same scars that had been repaired in those first few surgeries.
She took another drink and set the empty tumbler down. She refilled it and leaned back in the chair, leaving the full glass alone for the moment. She stared up at the ceiling for a time before continuing.
I had a choice to make. I could ignore my powers or at least not use them to their fullest potential or I could try to figure out a way to keep my face together even when I used them. She leaned forward then, her smiling face fully within the dancing light of the fires reach. Large twisting scars curled in haphazard trails all over its surface. The scars were open though, unhealed and revealing red muscle tissue just beneath it. The folds of flesh were held together by thick steel surgical staples. The wide holes around the sunken posts of these staples giving mute evidence as to the frequent stretching that skin underwent.
Guess which option I chose?
She laughed heartily and took another clumsy drink of the Johnny Walker. She leaned back and put her feet upon the desk, black leather boots clunking against it loudly.
Well, I still didnt know WHY I had these strange powers, she said. After all, the Cylinder didnt give Mark super powers, it just killed him. I spoke with several federal agents before one of them finally gave me a security video from the day it all happened. There had always been these funny red electrical signatures on the outside of the Cylinder. Do you remember those? We never did understand why they happened, but apparently when I was about to be sucked into the vortex one of those bolts, which had grown MUCH larger than the little currents we were used to
One of those bolts had struck me in the head. If you slowed that video footage down to one frame at a time it looked just like the bolt struck me
then the wormhole spark just sort of
shrank into me. It was like my skull just sucked the vortex inside.
She tipped back the rest of the Walker and stood up from behind the desk once more. She walked over to stand beside her companion, looking down into his wide eyes.
So, I had these powers, but what to do with them? I had, by then, realized that I would never be able to find my Mark. Even if I did there probably wouldnt be enough of him left to bring back to life. She sighed sadly and gave a dispirited shrug. So, I thought of my old friends
the other scientists who had been on the project
the ones who had overruled my Beloved despite his warnings that it wasnt safe. What were they up to? She grinned then, an expression that was horrifyingly broken on the shattered remains of her face. Would you believe they were all still alive? Not only alive but thriving!
One of them
one of them had even profited from the disaster of the Wormhole project. He had sold all his research data to a company named Portal Corps. He made out like an absolute bandit too; not only did he make money off the original sale but he even got residuals off their annual profits. My beloved Mark died. I was left with useless hands and a maimed face, but at least someone came out ahead. She smiled hugely down at her companion then turned away to look around the room once more.
Yes, Doctor Price, you certainly have a lovely home here.
She knelt by the side of the terrified doctor. He was stretched out, arms and legs in a spread eagle position, each one held in place by a pulsing ball of energy. His mouth was plugged, not with energy but with one of his own socks. His horrified eyes rolled whitely in their sockets as he stared at her. He struggled mightily but could not get his shackles to move even a hairs breadth. She reached out and dragged curled fingers down his cheeks, almost tenderly.
Ive had the opportunity to view so many exciting new worlds and galaxies with my powers, Doctor Price, she purred. Suddenly a spark appeared directly above his cringing face. It was the size of a manhole cover and as it appeared Jennifers face bulged outwards, the staples holding it together as the flesh strained against its restraint. I can open them practically anywhere you know; the inside of a sun, the depths of a black hole, the vacuum of space, ice planets, the acid storms of Venus
why I can even open them up in inhabited worlds. There is this one planet I found with an insect species that lays its eggs in a host. The eggs hatch almost instantly but the larvae take a loooong time to eat. It must be maddening because I saw one infested animal run headlong off a cliff rather than endure it a moment longer.
She smiled from her bulging, pulsing face and brushed Doctor Prices hair back from his forehead gently.
I think well start with your left foot, she said thoughtfully. The lions are hungry tonight, Doctor Price. Thats not too surprising, really
its been over six years since they last fed. The lions are almost starving to death
but dont you worry your wealthy little head about it
Im sure by the time were done here
everyones appetite will have been satisfied.
My mind wanders so often you've probably seen its picture on milk cartons. - Me... the first person version of the third person Steelclaw
...
O_O
Dayum.
That is all.
There is an art, or, rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. --The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
When I wrote the bio of one of my first characters Re-Stitched, I wasn't satisfied. Oh, I was happy with the general concept I'd come up with but I never felt like I'd told enough of the story.
In my opinion she always deserved more.
So, over the last few days I sat down and wrote out the whole thing. This is the origin story of my gravity/energy dominator Re-Stitched. It's a bit on the long side... but hopefully you'll enjoy the read.
At least it's out of my system now.
***
February 12th, 2003
A group of scientists, Generals and government officials stood behind the slanting glass wall of the viewing booth; looking down at the activity beneath them. In the booth the air was cooled by the subtle hum of the conditioners. The walls were sound insulated and the people were speaking in hushed tones in their little clusters. The chaos beneath these powerful decision makers was distant and impersonal.
The room which they all glanced at occasionally was made of white and chrome and blinking lights. Banks of tall server towers lined each of the four walls. The pristine whiteness of the ceramic tiled floor was criss-crossed with a fever of communication cables.
The focal piece of the room was the Cylinder. At first glance one might have mistaken it for a drainage culvert for installation under a suburban street. It was, however, smooth instead of corrugated and a metallurgist would have determined its make up to be much more complex more exotic than simple steel. The tube of strangely glowing silvery blue material was only three feet high and just shy of eight feet long. Power cables and computer feeds plugged into it all along its length, making it look like some strange creature from the deepest depths of the ocean floor. Huddled against it were other boxes and relays; looking not unlike worker ants clustered against the torpid body of their queen.
Among and through all this scurried dozens of people in white lab coats. From the removed and distant viewing glass there looked to be no order to their actions, merely a pack of lab rats all desperately attempting to navigate the maze by making random turns whenever a choice presented itself. On the floor, however, it was a different story.
Jennifer Halloway stood at the side of the Cylinder, carefully checking the connections of the cables she had just checked not more than ten minutes ago. She was a tall woman with dark brown hair cut sensibly and conservatively just below her collar. She was slender though not thin by any stretch of the imagination. Her hands were sure and steady as she tested each connection. Lovely with strong features and almost porcelain quality skin everything about her appearance was attractive and completely professional.
Except her eyes.
Not that the gray eyes with their slate blue flecks of color were not beautiful; it was just that she couldnt seem to control them. Her hands were steady and did exactly as they were ordered. Her voice, when she gave orders to those of her team or answered questions from her superiors, was firm, steady and in control. But those Benedict Arnold eyes of hers simply could not stay on task. She would be examining the connection pulse rate of her monitor one moment then, without conscious thought, her eyes would be up and searching the room to finally rest upon Mark Amberton. She would then stand there dreamily staring at his features for several minutes before realizing what she was doing and jerking them back to business once again.
Damn it all to hell anyway, she muttered after the most recent ocular mutiny. Stop that! Keep your mind on business. Its not like hes all that good looking anyway.
That may have been true in a G.Q. male model sense of the word; but to her he was absolutely perfect. Others would have seen a gawky six foot five man with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a habit of moving in short, quick bursts that had the unfortunate side effect of making him seem even more like a stork. His hair was not brown, was not blonde, but some kind of hybrid color that defied definition or taming, judging by the helter-skelter manner it seemed to burst from his head in every direction at once. Others would have looked at him and labeled him an Alpha-Nerd; leader of the pocket-protector pack.
Jennifer looked at Doctor Amberton and saw Cary Grant, Sean Connery and Richard Gere all rolled up into one yummy package.
She jerked her eyes away once more to stare blindly at the coupling before her. The word echoed in the fog-filled corners of her mind; Coupling. All at once she remembered the night before and her fingers started to twitch as they remembered filtering among the wiry thatch of Marks chest hair.
Oh, great, she muttered as she watched her fingers join her eyes in spontaneous rebellion. Et tu Brute?
Shakespeare, love? a familiar voice murmured from just behind her. The gentle pressure of hands upon her shoulders brought her heart to a stuttering acceleration. And the death scene of Julius Caesar at that Not exactly the most inspiring thing I could have heard from you. Are you about to lead the Senate in bloody rebellion against my rule?
Humor underscored his words and warm, soft affection, but she was sensitive enough to him to hear the strain.
The Senate has already done that with none of my help, Jennifer said, leaning back against him, thrilling as she always did to his height and the solidity of his body. His scent, a combination of Old Spice, sweat and that musk that was all his own, surrounded her. Price, Albertson, Diego, Archer and Hanson They may as well be wearing togas and brandishing knives in their fists. What right do they have? What frigging right do they have to countermand your authority?
She turned abruptly to look up into her beloved Marks smiling face. They could match each other fire for fire, but where as her heat was all about loyalty, passion and devotion his burned fiercely for intellectual challenges and theoretical advancement. He was an optimist and non-confrontational to a fault; a combination which frustrated Jennifer sometimes until she was ready to scream.
We should NOT be putting on this demonstration today, she said in a hiss, not wanting the other lab assistants to overhear so close to the event itself. You told them over and over again that were not ready yet. The containment field still fluctuates too much to be entirely safe! Dont those idiots care that we could end up killing our own soldiers rather than send them to the Rikti homeworld?
Marks head dipped and he pressed a tender kiss against her forehead. Its not about safety, he said. Its about money. Its been almost a year since the Rikti first invaded, love. The great military machine needs to see results or theyre going to cut funding to our Worm Hole creation project. The other scientists on the board agreed to an early demonstration as a sort of delaying tactic.
Then explain the procedure to the General Staff! Jennifer did not bother to whisper this time, her gray eyes snapping with barely suppressed rage. Describe the science behind it! Dont risk the whole project itself by firing up a worm hole generator when the containment fields arent up to spec!
I told them all that, dearest, Mark whispered. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, not pulling back he continued to speak, mouth restless against her hair. There is nothing we can do at this point, my love. Ive been outvoted five to one and my quitting the team would accomplish nothing; theyd simply go on without me. The danger isnt too great; the chances of something cataclysmic going wrong are on par with winning second prize in the lottery. Well get through our little demonstration just fine.
He paused a moment then and Jennifer, who knew his body so well, could feel a tension steal through him that had not been there before.
When all this is over with, he said in a slightly too-casual voice, Id like to take you out to dinner tonight. I have something I need to talk to you about. Something we need to talk about together. His voice was growing husky and he had to clear his throat several times. I have something to give you
She smiled despite her irritation with the other scientists on the project. That was her Mark; he was the worlds worst secret keeper. If she let him continue he would keep babbling until he told her everything. They had only been together as a couple for four months but that had included Christmas. There had not been a single present for her under the tree that had been a surprise when she opened it.
Doctor Amberton, came Doctor Prices modulated voice from the loudspeakers in the lab wall. Are we about ready to begin? The natives up here are growing a bit restless.
Oh, Ill show YOU restless you cockroach-looking little Jennifer began hotly but Marks raised voice luckily drowned her out.
Let me verify safety parameters have been met with each of the diagnostics teams and then well be ready to roll, he said, nudging his lover in the ribs with an elbow. He gave a short friendly wave to the window which was high up on one wall then turned back to her. Well, love, well have to save the conversation for dinner. Time for this three ring circus to bring out the man eating lions.
She shivered then as a surety swept over her that his words were no joke but instead a premonition of doom. It felt like a fist with fingers of ice had clamped itself around her heart. Liquid nitrogen flooded from her brain down her spinal column, turning her bowels to water. For a moment she felt an overwhelming urge to grab him and walk no run out of there. For that one instant she didnt care about her career or his. She didnt care about the project or wormholes or vengeance against the Rikti.
Are you okay? He gripped her upper arms in his large, gentle hands. His voice was concerned, his brow furrowed. You look pale as a sheet.
The moment was gone. Her fugue had passed, leaving her feeling light headed and a little embarrassed. Just a case of the pre-game jitters I guess, Coach. She laughed unevenly and shook her head. Dont worry about me. I just want to get this over with. Everything on the Cylinder checks out, so go talk to the other team leads.
He paused, still frowning down at her thoughtfully. Are you sure?
She punched him lightly in his chest with a lopsided smile. Yeah, yeah Im sure. Get this show on the road so I can find out what big surprise you have planned for dinner tonight.
He laughed and kissed her. Kissed her not with his usual peck, like a lovers catch and release program, but passionately. His mouth captured hers and claimed her for all the world to see. A few of the younger techs gave wolf whistles and cheered them on. Jennifer barely heard them past the thundering of her heart in her ears. Mark drew back and smiled down at her, joy and a low heat burning in his eyes.
Its a date, he said. He turned and gave a comic bow to their co-workers who were all grinning openly at them then called for his other team leads.
Jennifer made her way to her post by one of the computer banks, blushing and giggling at some of the comments the other project workers made as she passed them. She and Mark had not started dating until a full month into the Worm Hole project. The others had watched and cheered them on; most of them thinking of the budding romance as their own private fairy tale play. The other five directing scientists had not approved; not being enchanted in the least bit. Only Doctor Price had been vocal in his denouement; voicing his concerns about distraction from the real reason they were there. Jennifer had once overheard the older man say that rutting with a mere lab tech like that is an insult to every degree Mark has earned not to mention a display of an abysmal lack of good breeding.
Needless to say, Doctor Price was not one of Jennifers favorite people.
She checked the read out on the containment field. This was to be her responsibility during the demonstration; a charge Mark had lain upon her with the knowledge that he did so because he trusted no one else more.
The reading showed zero percent variance in the harmonic fields. That was to be expected however, since there was currently no energy being generated in the Cylinder for the fields to contain. Once the process started to crank up to speed however, as much as a 1.35% variance in the fields was acceptable. The further above that variance the percentage crept, the more danger there was of a complete containment break down. If the shielding around the generated wormhole were to rupture, then God alone knew what might happen. The best possible scenario would be the wormhole would simply collapse in upon itself, not having the integrity to maintain its own structure.
At worst the wormhole would begin drawing in everything around it; using whatever energy and matter it could find to stabilize itself. Using everything it could reach to add to itself; to grow.
Jennifer watched her lover as he moved around the other lab techs. He was getting the status reports from them, true, but he did not leave any of them without a smile, or a reassuring pat on the back. This is why the team all loved him. The other scientists would tell them what to do and then scream at them if they didnt do it right. Doctor Amberton, however, was a leader. He would work with them and show them not only what he wanted but how. And if it didnt go right, well, hed just roll up his sleeves and work with the tech in question to see where the problem existed.
The other scientists were in the viewing booth with the generals and Senators. They were content to leave the process to the techs now that the real job of design and creation was done. Mark had refused a cushioned seat and air conditioning. He preferred to be in the pits; ready to pounce should something go wrong.
Engage primary power circuit. Marks voice jolted her out of her reverie and she sat up straighter in her chair. Power up the Cylinder to half maximum.
The room was filled with a low yet powerful hum as the Cylinder began to charge. The silvery blue glow grew brighter then began to dim as the now ionized metal magnetized; attracting not metal, but light itself. As the Cylinder drew more and more power, the area directly around it grew darker and darker. It would never reach complete blackness, but it did look steeped in shadows.
The place where Jennifer was sitting was perfectly aligned to see straight down the bore of the Cylinder. The tech in charge of power modulation announced the steadily increasing increments in an even, professional voice.
Twenty-five percent maximum power. Thirty percent maximum power. Thirty-five pecent maximum power.
At forty percent a small blue spark appeared in the center of the Cylinders embrace. About the size of a dime it still burned brightly enough to cast sharply defined shadows from all the equipment before it. When she had asked Mark why the light of this spark was not absorbed by the Cylinder he had explained that the sparks energy was not, strictly speaking, light but some other unknown source of radiation that was somehow visible to the human eye. As the percentages increased to fifty, the spark grew larger, but not brighter.
Forty-eight percent maximum power. Fifty percent maximum power. Fifty percent maximum power and holding.
Once fifty percent had been reached the Cylinder itself began to slowly rise up from its resting place in the holding clamps. When it reached a height of maybe two and a half feet above the floor it remained there, hovering in place. The wires and cables hung down from it like jungle vines, giving it an alien, almost predatory appearance. Jennifer could not help but remember Marks reference to man eating lions as she stared down the gaping maw at the softball sized spark.
Shaking herself, Jennifer looked at her readings and released a pent up sigh of tension. Containment field variation currently at zero point two zero percent.
Mark nodded and gave a short order. The techs whom had been clustered close to the Cylinder now moved away; the remainder of the experiment had been deemed too dangerous to allow such close proximity. Doctor Amberton took a deep breath and let his eyes meet Jennifers; each drawing strength from the other. He gave a short nod and spoke loudly to the room at large.
Fifty percent maximum power has been reached and maintained successfully. At this yield we can send energy pulses through the wormhole but not matter, he began to pace the perimeter of the room, always keeping his eyes on the Cylinder. Once we map out coordinates of the Rikti Homeworld, this would allow us to place a wormhole over the target and shoot energy beams through it. Such beams would lose 10 to 20% cohesion but would still maintain an impressive force. We will now proceed and bring the Cylinder up to three-quarters maximum.
Once again the tech began to call out the increasing power in a calm, measured voice. Jennifers eyes behaved themselves this time, obeying her commands to keeping track of both the containment field read outs and the Cylinder itself. When the power output reached sixty percent the spark was mere centimeters from completely filling the Cylinders bore. However, as the percentage increased something strange began to happen, the outer surface of the Cylinder seemed to ripple as though it were liquid and someone had cast a pebble into it. With each undulation of the metal it appeared to stretch, to pull outwards like taffy.
I am sure our honored guests were wondering how effective an entry point of only three feet diameter would be in the transport of personnel or weaponry, Mark said with just a hint of amusement in his voice. Excitement was there too and Jennifer realized that at least a part of her beloved was more than happy to show off his new toy. The wormhole is capable of piercing the dimensional barrier because it warps space around it to a point where that space ruptures. A side-effect of this warping is that the Cylinders ring will actually seem to grow. This is, in fact, an illusion. It is not the Cylinder which is growing larger at all, it is the space around it that is fluctuating; as though a magnifying glass were being placed over it.
Jennifer was barely listening to him. Instead all her attention was focused on the read out before her. The containment field variance had crept slowly upwards, keeping pace with the power levels. She felt her heart rise upwards into her throat as the percentage rose past 1.00%, then to 1.05% and 1.10%. In her mind a chant of sorts had started, meaningless words filled with a cresting dread and horrible certainty that this needed to be stopped.
The lions are getting hungry. The lions are getting hungry. The lions are getting hungry.
Seventy-five percent maximum power. Seventy-five percent maximum power and holding.
Jennifer stared at the screen before her, barely able to breathe. She had been so absorbed with the rising numbers that shed totally blocked out the power announcements. She looked up to meet Marks eyes; anxiety had made her pupils small spots swimming in a gray sea. She cleared her throat and smiled tremulously.
Containment field variation currently at 1.31% and holding.
His smile was a benediction that swept through her like dawns first kiss upon the darkness. Her own smile solidified and brightened. They had done it!
The spark had grown to the point where an average height man could make it through if they ducked their head. The space around it warping to stretch the cylinder out grotesquely. Around the outside edges of the Cylinder twisting currents of crimson energy coiled and slithered. The spark itself made no sound, but these red energy signatures crackled and hissed like bacon in a pan. None of the scientists had been able to explain what caused them; most of them had dismissed the phenomena since they didnt seem to affect any other system. Mark, however, had continued to obsess about them.
Seventy-Five percent maximum power is the highest we have been able to safely achieve thus far, Mark announced, hands braced on his hips and looking very pleased with their accomplishment. At this level matter can be sent through but with a certain amount of degradation in its structural integrity. Normal humans could not survive this passage as their flesh and bone density simply could not tolerate the pressure. We estimate the field within the spark to exert a pressure roughly equal to 20 G-forces or about 20 times the force of Earths gravity. A super-powered being with resistance to such pressure could make the journey with no ill effects as could humans in specially prepared protective armor. The closer to 100% maximum power we bring the wormhole the lower the pressure differential would become until were talking something on par with the pressurized cabin of a commercial jet.
A voice over the loud speakers then; not Doctor Price but one of their guests. Let me get this straight, Doctor Amberton, the voice said in deep, barrel-chested tones. You expect me to go before the General Staff, before the Rikti Retribution Senate committee and tell them that as of right now we could launch an assault of a small portion of the hero community and a handful of soldiers at a time? We wanted to use this technology to mount a tsunami invasion, not a damned trickle infiltration!
Seventy-five percent is not an impenetrable ceiling, Mark insisted. He walked closer to the Cylinder, hands out to the sides. He looked up at the window above them which was mirrored giving the impression he was calling out to his own reflection. With more time and more funding we can reach higher power levels. At full power we can send through hundreds if not thousands of people in very short order.
You said the same damned thing three weeks ago, the voice snarled. Weve been lenient with your little group of wormhole specialists so far because it seemed to answer all our needs. However, weve been pouring money into a hole with no return for too long now. My colleagues and I feel that we can use your wormhole technology as-is for energy beam assaults against specific military targets. There are other projects that could use the money weve been dedicating to this one. Unless you can show me definite progress
Doctor Amberton, Prices voice interrupted the first with cold anger seething just under the surface. Increase maximum power to eighty-five percent.
Mark stared up at the mirrored glass with disbelief and shock. But the containment fields
The good General wishes to see progress, Doctor Amberton, Price said. Need I remind you that you agreed to acquiesce to the group decision? Bring the Cylinder up to eighty-five percent maximum power. Do it now.
Mark did not immediately give that order, instead his eyes sought out Jennifer. Her fingers were clutching the edges of the workstation so hard the knuckles had gone white. She shook her head slightly, willing him to understand. They were only 0.04% short of being in danger of a containment breech. He looked uncertain, hesitant.
Containment field variation currently at one point THREE ONE and holding, she said. The intensity in her voice was lost on no one. She could just imagine Doctor Price grinding his teeth up in the viewing booth. She hoped they all shattered in his mouth.
Dear lord, Mark, she thought desperately, dont you realize the lions are at the door?
Do I need to come down there and take charge myself, Doctor Amberton? Doctor Prices modulated voice practically dripped with disdain. Or are you taking orders from a lab tech now?
She wasnt giving orders Doctor Price, Mark said.
The HELL Im NOT! She screamed in the silent vaults of her mind.
She is merely reminding myself and everyone else that the containment field is four hundredths of a percentage point from the point where a breech becomes possible, Mark continued. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared upwards. In other words, shes doing her job. Which she does very well, I might add. Now, if youve finished interfering with those of us who have the balls to actually be down in the trenches rather than up in the viewing box drinking champagne, Id like to get back to work.
He divided a look between the power manager and Jennifer. Were going to bring it up to eighty-five percent. Were going to go slowly, VERY slowly. I want the power level announcement to be directly followed by the containment field variance. If the variance spikes more than two hundredths of a percentage point then I want you to sound off immediately. We will hold at that point and wait to see if there is further fluctuation. He straightened and now looked around at the other techs and assistants in the room. I want everyone not involved in essential support out of the room. Now.
There was a certain amount of delay as everyone immediately began insisting they were essential to the project. Finally one of the older techs stepped forward. She adjusted her wire frame glasses on her nose and looked over the top of them at Mark.
I think, Doctor Amberton, she said in a kindly yet stern voice. That we would all much rather stay. It would seem you made the mistake of forging us into a team. And no team worth its salt would abandon their Coach in a time of need.
He stood stunned for a moment then slowly nodded. Despite her bone-deep worry, Jennifer was consumed with pride for her man. In that moment, she had never loved him more.
They organized quickly and soon enough Mark was nodding permission to the power management team.
Seventy-six percent of maximum power. One point three two containment field variance.
Seventy-seven percent of maximum power. One point three four containment field variance.
The numbers seemed to crawl forward. Time itself stretched and slowed in Jennifers perception, as though the field around the wormhole spark was affecting it as well as space. She held her breath between each status announcement, but the numbers did not jump or spike.
The lions are hungry. The lions are hungry. The lions are HERE!
Just as the power management team leader announced that the Cylinder was drawing 83% maximum power the containment field variance jumped from 1.41% to 1.53%.
We have a full zero point ONE TWO percentage spike. We are at one point five three field variance! She was numbly amazed that she wasnt screaming, but her voice, though uneven, maintained a professional detachment.
Hold power levels! Maintain power levels at eighty-three percent! Mark strode to Jennifers side and looked at the readouts with her. She felt his hand on her shoulder and her own quickly covered it, pressing its reassuring weight harder into her flesh. Every team hold and get ready for emergency shut down procedures. Do not initiate procedures until my mark.
The number held at 1.53% variance for several seconds. Jennifer stared at that number, focused on it, as though she could force it to drop through sheer force of will. Then, it flickered, and rose to 1.54%.
One point five four percent field variance. One point five five One point five six point five seven eight nine One point six one.. two
Drop power back to seventy five percent! Mark yelled, breaking away from Jennifers side to run towards the power team. Everyone who isnt power or containment out of the room NOW! No arguments this time!
Doctor! The power wont back down! The Cylinder seems to be force-drawing the energy. All the resistors in the system have burnt out. I have heat readings around the cables that are nearly off the charts! Those cables cant hold that much energy! The Cylinder is drawing more power than they are rated for! The power managers eyes were all white with pools of pale color at their very center. He tried to stand but his knees wouldnt support him and he fell to kneel before the computer read outs as though praying before an altar.
I said get everyone OUT OF HERE! Mark screamed and ran towards the Cylinder itself. I need someone from the Cylinder Set Up team to help me unplug these power couplings manually! Jennifer, report!
The variance is at twelve point three seven percent and climbing fast, Mark! She was screaming now, she couldnt help herself. We need to get out of here! The field is going to collapse any moment now!
No! We dont have any idea what will happen if it breaks containment! It could swallow the entire building or worse. You get everyone out of here, Ill pull the power cables out! He reached for one then shrieked in agony as the superheated cable seared his hand. He gritted his teeth and refused to pull his hand away. Finally he stumbled back, holding his hands out in front of him, fingers curled like talons. Its no good. The cables are so hot the threading has melted together. Price! The electrical breaker box is in the room just next to the viewing room! Go there and shut down all the power breakers to the building!
There was no response from the loudspeakers. They could only hope it was because Doctor Price was running to obey the order.
We have to get out of here, Jennifer, Mark was saying, walking towards her with his ruined hands outstretched. Theres nothing more that we can do.
The numbers on the screen in front of Jennifer read 23.33% and then the entire screen flashed red, went black, flashed red again. Two words. Two small words all alone in the dead center of that flashing screen. Yet those two words sent terror such as she had never known through Jennifers very soul.
Containment Breech.
The lions are about to feast! She screamed and leapt from her chair, running around the desk she grabbed Mark about the wrist with one hand, mindful even in her extreme state of horror of his injuries. She began to pull him across the floor towards the log-jam of people at the exit. They had to stop there, too many were blocking the door, all shoving and pushing at one another trying to escape.
The elderly woman whom had voiced her support of Mark as their leader fell and no one seemed to notice. She screamed for help but it could not be heard above the screaming of everyone else. Her screaming ended abruptly when a booted foot came down blindly upon her throat. One of the techs, a young man fresh out of M.I.T. saw the futility of trying to get out the door so grabbed a metal chair and set it atop one of the tall servers. He climbed up and swung the chair with all his might at the slanted viewing booth glass. It shattered, raining shards of glass down upon him. One small sliver fell into one of his open eyes and the next blink brought with it a fiery swarm of needlelike pain. His vision blurred as he grabbed hold of the ledge, not seeing the jagged daggers of glass still in embedded in the frame. Luck was with him as his hands found holds free of glass. He hauled himself up, vision doubling, trebling. A power surge hit the room as the Cylinder hungrily gorged itself on electricity. The server beneath his feet exploded and he lost his grip.
He did not fall however, as a long spike of glass impaled him from chin to cranium and held his body aloft. Twitching.
The containment field failed utterly at that point. The wormhole was open and still growing. The lions were starving and the feast had begun. They had carefully chosen the location of the aperture as the center of the Great Storm on Jupiter. It was a known location and anything they sent through during the demonstration was unlikely to affect its environment adversely. The real advantage had been that the storm was so volatile it made Rikti sensors useless. And keeping the information of their experiments from the Rikti was of utmost importance. Unfortunately, with the dissolution of the containment field, there was no protection on either side of the wormhole.
Jupiters gravitational pull hit the small room like a freight train.
The air suddenly screamed as it was sucked through the wormhole, making it seem like the Cylinder itself were giving vent to a banshee wail of agony and hunger. Equipment not nailed down to the floor flew through the air towards the gaping maw to disappear within.
Jennifer screamed, a sound she could not hear above the shrieking of the Cylinder. She felt the Cylinders ethereal fingers clutch and grab at her clothing, at her legs and feet. It was pulling at her. She released her grip on Marks wrist to wrap both hands around the handle of the exit door which was just beside her. She placed them high upon the handle and saw her lovers hands appear just beneath her own. The force of the gravitational pull increased slowly as the wormhole continued to glut itself on power.
She stared at Marks ruined hands. Saw the blisters there from the second degree burns hed sustained while trying to release the hot cables. Saw those blisters burst under the pressure of his grip; spreading their moisture between flesh and metal.
Saw his grip slip and then fail.
She did not hesitate. She let go as well.
They slid across the floor together, Mark only slightly ahead of her. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She saw people ahead of them being pulled into the Cylinder. The spark had changed in appearance. The blue white glow was now only a thick ring around the center. The wormhole had grown large enough to show a direct vision of what lay beyond it. The blue white ring contained a swirling crimson storm; a frenzied blood harvest with currents of white and yellow lightning flickering through it here and there. It was a demonic playground. It was chaos incarnate.
She managed to grab one of his wrists with both her hands and held on for dear life. They were of drastically different weights and the imbalance started them spinning unevenly around the fulcrum of their joining. Closer and closer they spun towards that maelstrom gate and despite its approach they looked nowhere but one anothers eyes.
Then they slowed and Jennifer felt a hard grip about one of her ankles. She jerked her head up and around to look behind her. One of their violent revolutions had swept her legs into a tangle of electrical cables and wires. Her ankle was wrapped tightly in one of those snares. She instantly wormed her other foot in and twisted her legs, seeking to wrap the power cables more firmly about them.
She turned to smile back at Mark, to let him know that everything was safe, that she would never let go of him.
He did not smile back. Instead his face was a mask of agony. She looked beyond him to see that the fury of the storm beyond the Cylinders ring was no more than four feet away. Mark was buried in it midway up his thighs. He screamed soundlessly in the overwhelming howl of the storm as the immense gravitational forces of both portal and planet beyond crushed the bones in his legs to jagged shards and then to powder. She held on tighter, determined not to let him go. She would love him and care for him even if he were in a wheelchair. She would stay with him forever whether he could walk or not.
The machinery to which the cables that anchored the two lovers were attached shifted with the terrible force of the wormholes pull. Mere inches of movement, as the bolts holding them down began to buckle under the strain. Those inches were enough to send Mark further through the thin veneer of the wormhole into the hell beyond. His eyes bulged as his body was eaten by the feeding storm up to his belt line.
Jennifer gritted her teeth, his pain was in her body as well. She could feel it as though it were she who were caught in the storms grip. She captured his eyes with her own, fierce and enraged. She was not scared in that moment. All the love she felt for him, all her hopes and dreams for their future together, mingled with her hopeless rage, her hatred of those fools who had done this to them. All the power of these feelings she channeled into that gaze, into him.
Marks eyes cleared. The pain somehow seemed to lose its grip on him. In the center of that madness, of the insanity that raged around them, they found a moment of peace together. Everything faded except that gaze. Except that joining of wills. So consumed was she in holding him there with her, in not allowing his soul to leave her alone there without him, she did not notice his free hand reach into the chest pocket of his lab coat. She was only aware of his hands at all when she felt his fingers at her lips. Pressing against her lips until she opened her mouth before that gentle insistence. His fingertips slid inside then departed, but left something within.
Her mouth closed around the small object; her lips sealed.
I love you, he mouthed. She could not hear him over the wailing of the storm. Ill always love you. Oh gods above how she wished she could just HEAR him. Tears poured from her eyes but never touched her cheeks, greedily whisked away by the raging storm mere feet before her.
The machinery holding them groaned in agony and three of the four bolts holding it to the floor gave way at the same time. The heavy metal box swung around on its sole remaining anchor, the cables slid and Mark with them.
Ill always lo
He was now sunk in the wormhole up to his chest. The terrible pressures just beyond that demarcation line eating half his torso in one starved gulp. Jennifer watched as the words died on his lips, held his gaze as the light died from his eyes.
I wont let go. Ill never let you go. Ill hold on forever! I wont let you go!
The bolt weakened. The machine canted precipitously then fell over onto its side. The bolt bent dangerously but held. The cables played out even more and now all of Mark was within the maelstrom. His face disappeared into that swirling, crimson hell. Only his forearm and hand remained outside it and Jennifer clung to it against all the strength that the storm of the damned could muster.
I wont let you go Mark Never let you go . Never
The sweat that stained her body betrayed her then. The bolt held but her own terror had lubricated her legs and the coiling cables could not keep their hold upon her. She slid forward, inch by inch. The crimson electrical bolts that normally cascaded around the outside of the Cylinder had gone from mere static charges like waves on the ocean to massive claps of lightning-like bolts. They danced around the lab now, striking angry sparks off the walls and floor. She was not aware of them nor of the fact that she was now the only living thing in the room.
Hold on to me my beloved dont let go of me hold on Ill be there soon well be together soon enough
Her arms passed through the aperture and her world became a miasma of agony such as she had never known. She felt the slow crawl of her bones snapping and crumbling as she passed that deadly barrier. Past her wrists now, up her forearms her elbows. Until her nose was mere inches from the gate itself. She felt her skin begin to pull and tear as the incredible gravitational force reached greedily through the wormhole for her face itself.
I love you, my Mark and I will not . I will never . Let .. go
There was a noise loud enough to overwhelm even the wormholes screaming. And then, for Jennifer, everything went black.
My mind wanders so often you've probably seen its picture on milk cartons. - Me... the first person version of the third person Steelclaw