The Children of Earth

Chapter Four
Docking Bay 19, Morrigan’s Hangars, Trafalgar, Nelson
1530 h, 1st March 2349 [NTZ +5 GMT]

Nizar yawned as he slid under the chassis of the battered freighter Moonlight, avoiding the ship’s battered fuselage, which was leaking a steady drip-drip of engine fluid onto the hangar floor, a strange, almost hypnotic melody that momentarily enraptured him.

He shook his head and looked at the manifesto. Three corroded tubes, a cracked viewport, seven hull fractures and nineteen other minor damages. All from a single, half-formed jump to Nelson from God-knew-where. He definitely wouldn’t be able to finish within half an hour.

With a heave of his wrench, he cracked the casing on the first tube, and began to tease it out.
Every spring break, the Karus sent all of the orphans into Trafalgar to help out with odd jobs around the city. Assignments were based on which subjects one excelled at in school, so Nizar, being highly proficient in Physics and Machine Study, had been sent this year to Morrigan’s Hangars, along with and three others. Micah was assisting at a biochemicals lab somewhere in Trafalgar’s research zone, while Ignatius and Zander were working with an accounting division of one of the retail chains that dominated the planet’s markets.

Nizar replaced the last tube and rolled the broken casings out from under the Moonlight. He didn’t particularly enjoy repairing spacecraft, but he went where they needed him, never objecting.

Always acquiescent.

He slid out from under the freighter and stood up, seeing the echoes of himself working under the Moonlight, just minutes earlier. He saw the ghostly shapes of the casings, rolling across the bare floor, before merging with their present forms, still lying where they had stopped. He looked across the hangar, and saw himself fade through the steel door, selecting tools and checking the console on the wall.

A gypsy medium at one of Trafalgar’s many carnivals had once told him it was both a gift and a curse, what he had.

Nizar was, more often than not, inclined to believe the latter.

It had been with him since before he could remember, the echoes of memories already past, ghostly images that stayed with him and appeared unconsciously, erratically, like windows into his past that he’d rather not have. Unable to forget even the smallest action, he had become an observer, a silent sentinel, only ever opening up to Micah and Ignatius, and too afraid to talk to anyone else, for fear of conversations that he would never forget, ideas and thoughts that would never leave his mind.

It was like watching his dreams and nightmares, replayed over and over in front of his open eyes.

Nizar climbed over the ship’s hull and began to remove the cracked, shattered viewport from its outer shell. Agreed, some memories he cherished with all his heart: he saw himself score the winning goal for Trafalgar each time they visited the city’s central stadium, and every time he went to sleep, he was welcomed by a plethora of ghostly images of Micah, Ignatius and himself, telling fantastic stories or tussling on his bed.

Yet there were some things so painful he would have thought it better to have been born blind.
Nizar carefully removed the largest remaining fragment of the viewport, and set it down on the hull. He had never told anyone about his ‘ghosts’, not even his best friends.

Would they even want to know?

He collected the smaller pieces, stacked them together and gingerly set them on the ground, wincing as glass rubbed against glass.

Probably not.

He rubbed his eyes, watching his ghostly self remove the viewport again, and sighed. He’d give a lot to have been born on Nelson, or Dante, or Vidar, or any one of the colonies that had been far, far away from the Txsa advance, with normal parents and no ghosts, no aliens and no memories.
Just a quiet, normal life.

Nizar looked at his ghostly self, approaching him with the pile of viewport fragments.

As if.

He was about to replace the screen when there came a chime from somewhere above him.

His break.

He gently lowered the new screen to the floor and packed up his tools, letting the echoes fade.


Morrigan’s Bar was almost empty in the wane, drowsy afternoon. Nizar found himself a seat next to Jai, the other orphan sent to the Hangars, and ordered an Amundsen cola from the auto-dispenser. The bartender was perched on a stool behind the counter, reading the Trafalgar Herald, while a group of freighter pilots were clustered around Morrigan himself, all laughing raucously.

“Tell it again, Morrigan!”

Jai nodded in greeting. An orphan of Titan, he was one of only three hundred survivors from what once had been one of the most developed colonies in the union, before the Txsa obliterated it on their way to Earth. If Nizar rarely spoke, Jai was virtually mute, and spent most of his time alone, either thinking or fixing something. Nizar inclined his head in reply.

Morrigan delivered the punch line and the pilots collapsed in hoots of laughter that rang out across the bar. Nizar drank his cola noiselessly, listening to their conversation.

“And that’s why you should never cross a Vidarian,” said Morrigan, smiling. Nizar caught the glint of several gold teeth.

“ ‘ell,” chuckled one of the pilots, “I’m from Vidar ‘n I’ve never ‘eard of it.” He hiccupped and gave a short whoop, which generated even more laughter. Morrigan patted him on the back, and he fell forward onto the counter top, nearly toppling his glass of fizzy, blue liquid.

“ ‘ere’s another one ‘bout Magdalena,” chortled another, a big, burly giant who had the words Hope makes the worlds go round tattooed on his left bicep. “ ‘n the three moons –”

“Easy,” said Morrigan, to the first pilot, who was attempting to sit up.

“ – ‘n Zeffaneya Wallis –”

The pilot pitched forward again, to rousing cheers. The bartender peered over the Herald for a moment, then rustled his newspapers and went back to reading.

Nizar noticed one of the other pilots wasn’t smiling any more.

“ – ‘bout those damn bitches in Bethany –”

“Watch your words, friend,” muttered the pilot who wasn’t smiling. Compared to the others, he was relatively leaner, and wore a black leather jacket and a well-fitting skullcap that covered his graying hair. The burly pilot turned slowly, sluggishly, to face him.

“ ‘What’s wrong wi’ ‘em?” He blinked. “ ‘ou from Magdalena?”

“Not exactly,” said the other pilot, slightly menacingly.

“Easy, Nepahue,” said Morrigan, watching them cautiously. He slid another mug of foaming blue liquid down the counter towards the burly pilot. “Here, Vassili, have another.”

But Vassili wasn’t paying attention to him. His eyes focused on Nepahue, he said, his speech slurred, “ ‘t’s jus’ a joke.”

Nepahue said nothing.

The first pilot groaned groggily, and Morrigan said, a little too quickly, “Here, I think he’s had a bit too much. Could you do me a favor, bring him outside, give him a little fresh Trafalgan air?”
He looked pointedly at Vassili.

“Drinks are on me.”

Vassili grunted. Even half-drunk pilots knew better than to cross Morrigan. He gave Nepahue one last, long stare and then took the first pilot by the shoulders. “Come on, boys.”

The rest of the pilots staggered out of the bar, leaving Nepahue and Morrigan alone with Jai and Nizar.

Morrigan turned to Nepahue. “What’s eating you?”

“I came from Magdalena.” Nepahue’s face was grim. “Those scoring marks on my ship? They came from Txsa plasma. They think it’s some sort of joke!”

Nizar went cold.

The Txsa.

Nepahue slammed his fist down on the counter. “Twelve million people are now under attack by the Txsa, and they think it’s some sort of joke!”

Morrigan, ashen-faced, said nothing.

Somewhere, in Nizar’s heart, as he and Jai quietly left the bar and returned to the hangar bay, a creeping dread was taking hold.

He had to tell Micah.

The Children of Earth

Chapter Three
Office of Allegiance, Little Lion, Praecipua
1150 h, 1st March 2349 [PTZ +0 GMT]


President Rachel Karmendan, of the United Colonies of Earth, lay back in her chair and sighed.

Outside, the streams of air traffic meandered through the tall, elegant skyscrapers of downtown Little Lion, as the sun fell behind their graceful, slender bodies and reflected itself lazily off the Ruslan river, filling the office with a beautiful amber light. A day on Praecipua was only fifteen hours long, and for many first-time visitors to the capital of the human colonies, adjusting to the time difference was an uncomfortable annoyance that spoiled an otherwise breathtaking trip to one of the Union’s most beautiful worlds.

Rachel, however, had become used to the shorter days and fewer meals.

She sighed again, looking out over the river and at the gondolas and ferries plying its clear, azure waters. The Office of Allegiance had offered the last fourteen Presidents of the United Colonies an almost-unobstructed view of the Ruslan and Praecipua’s golden sky, sitting on the sixtieth floor of the Colonial Tower. It was also one of the most secure offices in the entire system, with snipers, helis and a full platoon of Marines on rotation every day.

Hell, I wouldn’t mind if someone made it through all that, Rachel thought.

The comm chimed. “Madame President?” came the voice of her Chief of Staff.

“No, it’s her grandmother. Come back in five minutes.” Rachel swirled the coffee, watching it hiss and squeal. “Yes, Kai, what’s the matter? I just finished a three hour meeting with that idiot of an ambassador from Gibraltar and I have a headache that’s bigger than you, me and Admiral Mahendra combined, so it‘d better be good.”

“Bigger than Mahendra? That’s rare.” Kai Qiang’s voice was full of his usual good humor, and he chuckled into the comm. “Did he start cursing in Espanol again?”

“Please don’t remind me.” Rachel massaged her forehead, and felt something different. Wrinkles. She took a long, slow sip from her cup. “Get to the point, Kai. I’m having a really bad day.”

“You’re due to meet the Lord Admirals and Minister Kowitski in five minutes. The Magdalena briefing?”

Rachel swore. She had totally forgotten about Magdalena.

“Come again?” said Kai.

“You didn’t hear that,” she replied shortly. “Is Hjalmar around?”

“As usual, no.” There was a momentary humming in the background, which Rachel assumed was her Chief of Staff’s console. “He’s on Nelson, having breakfast with Zerachiel ben-Serik.”

“Remind me to execute him when he gets back. Painfully.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get Ramirez to fire up the old guillotine.”

“Thank you. Make sure it’s rusty.” Rachel downed the rest of her coffee, and stood up. “Tell Kowitski I’m on my way. Which room?”

“Zephaniah Wallace.”

“Alright. See if you or Jovan can raise Hjalmar on the subspace. I need him for this one.”

“Yes ma’am. Kai Qiang out.”

Rachel shut the viewport and opened the blast doors with her retinal scan. The four Marines standing guard in the doorway bowed respectfully. “Good afternoon, Madame President.”

“Good afternoon,” Rachel replied, closing the doors behind her. They followed behind her as she walked down the corridor and entered the turbolift, their boots echoing off the reinforced steel walls.

Since the assassination of President Veronica Yalden in the Office of Allegiance itself in 2306, every sitting President had been escorted by at least two Marines wherever he or she went, even within in the Colonial Tower itself. Additional Marines and security detail guarded every staircase, turbolift and landing pad, with platoons rotated around the clock.

Rachel found it more than a little annoying.

And the fact that there have been four of them instead of two for the last two months is more than a little worrying.

She made a mental note to check with Kai if security had reported any significant attempts on her life recently, as the turbolift doors opened and they stepped out onto level eighty-one. Already present were several other security personnel, as well as the Warden of the Zephaniah Wallace Room, Takuya Yagami, who held the door open for her.

“All rise for the President of the United Colonies,” he announced. The five men and women already inside rose to their feet as Rachel stepped into the dimly lit room and took her place at the head of the long table that took up most of the available space.

“At ease,” Rachel said, noting who was present. On the left sat Isaiah Skylath and Jaider Mahendra, two of the three Lord Admirals of the Colonial Defense Force, dressed in ceremonial white, while on the right were Defence Minister Iosef Kowitski, Vice-President Ansel Solomon and of course her Chief of Staff Kai Qiang, who nodded in welcome.

“My apologies for being tardy,” she continued, as they all took their seats. “I was having a bad headache after my…meeting with the Gibraltaran ambassador. Please, continue.”

“We were just getting started, Madame President,” replied Kowitski, his whiskery, leathery face reminding Rachel of an old grizzly bear. He turned to Admiral Mahendra. “Please continue with your report, Admiral.”

“Thank you sir.” Mahendra stood, and pressed a button on the wall. The lights dimmed further and a viewscreen slid out from the ceiling at the front of the room, activating as it did so.

“On February 11th this year, the long-range sensor station Capernaum recorded the following image at precisely 2208 hours, Magdalena system time.”

On-screen, the image of an indistinct, purple object appeared. Rachel nodded, remembering that first report, and the immense horror and fright it had generated in her. “The Txsa.”

“Correct, Madame President. We assumed, from our former engagements in 2338, that it was one of their reconnaissance vessels.” Next to the existing image, a new one appeared, this time clearly showing the sleek form of the Txsan scout-class. Both images seemed similar.

“However, this has been proven wrong.”

Mahendra’s voice was grim. The old Admiral seldom smiled, and virtually never laughed, but Rachel could hear the strain in his voice, as if he were holding back something.

“At 0034 hours this morning, Magdalena Orbital Command received a distress call from Capernaum station.”

The air filled with the hiss of static as the audio clip was replayed. A voice thick with accent rose through the cacophony. “Magdalena do you read? This is Capernaum sensor station MG-005, we are under heavy attack from unknown hostiles, repeat, we are under attack from unknown hostiles, they have boarded the station and are –”

There was a violent scream, and then nothing. Mahendra’s voice did not change as he spoke again. “The following image was retrieved from the last automated sensor log transmitted from Capernaum, before contact was entirely lost.”

The screen changed again.

Displayed was what appeared to be the swollen bow of a large, sleek starship, laced with purple energy and surrounded by thousands of tiny pieces of debris; Rachel assumed they had come from the Capernaum.

“Long-range sensor sweeps from Magdalena indicate that not only has the station been destroyed, it has also vanished entirely. No debris of any kind has been found in the last fourteen hours, and we may only assume that the Txsa have developed a new weapon of some sort that can perform such a thorough attack.”

The lights brightened slightly, and the screen faded. Mahendra took his seat, and there remained silence in the room for a while. Rachel stared at the portrait of Zephaniah Wallace above Kowitski’s face, the room’s namesake. Elected in the middle of the brutal Civil War, he had conquered the Secessionists and retaken the twelve rebel colonies through a mixture of amazing tactics and unceasing determination.

Now, more than ever, Rachel wished she could speak to him, and seek his guidance, at what seemed like the dawn of humanity’s darkest hour.

“Magdalena needs to be evacuated,” she said, at last.

Admiral Skylath nodded. “The Third Fleet is already on its way, Madame President. Civilian vessels have been instructed to take as many people as possible out of the system.”

“Nevertheless, there are twenty-five million people on that planet,” said Kowitski. “The Txsa will undoubtedly attack within the next day, we won’t have enough time –”

“We must still try,” snapped Rachel. The pain in her head increased, and she blinked it away before continuing. “Send all available vessels to Magdalena to assist. I want a defensive perimeter established around Raleigh and Tycho as well,” she added, referring to the two colonies closest to Magdalena, “and evacuation to begin there.”

“Yes, Madame President,” Kowitski said, subdued. He turned away, speaking into his comm unit.

“With all due respect, Madame Preisdent,” said Skylath, quietly, “our situation is an almost hopeless one. The Txsa were immensely powerful in 2338, and we only survived because they retreated.”

“That’s why this time we have something they don’t.” Rachel looked at the two Admirals, and then at her vice-president and chief of staff. So much was at stake in the next forty-eight hours. Her head was awash in pain, but she ignored it, as she stood, and began to pace the room.

“Gentlemen, at the beginning of this year, Admiral Henrik Hjalmar told me a legend. A very strange legend indeed, one that I am still very much inclined to doubt.”

“The Zopyros,” said Kai Qiang, and Rachel nodded.

“It’s a myth,” muttered Mahendra. “An old superstition.”

“That may be,” said Rachel, “but it’s all we have. And evidently, Admiral Hjalmar has placed a great deal of faith in it, because he is on Nelson now with the one person who may actually make this legend work.”

“How can one boy hope to defeat the Txsa?” Skylath said. “Trillions of men and women died in 2338 against them; how can one soul stand against an entire race?”

“One soul may be all that is needed. I do not know,” admitted the President. “But I need that one soul, because if there is any hope at all for humanity, he may be our last chance. We need him if we are to survive.”

She turned back to Kai Qiang. “Transmit orders to Admiral Hjalmar. Ask him to return to Praecipua with the boy immediately.”

“What about the press corps?” asked her vice-president. “The Principal Star has already published an interview with a freighter captain from Magdalena.”

“Tell them nothing,” said Rachel. “Let them go to Magdalena and find out for themselves. If they press for anything more, remove them from the building. I don’t want riots breaking out in my streets.”

Solomon nodded. Rachel sighed. “Alright. If there’s nothing else, we’re done. Get on it, people.”

“Thank you, Madame President.”

Labels: the Children of Earth

Deutsch hat beendet.

I'm really gonna miss everybody, and all our retardness. On the bright side, my mondays and thursdays are now free for hockey, but it still won't be the same. I've attended German classes for five years, and its always seemed like those four hours of a week were untouchable. :(

But I'm still gonna speak it in class :P hehehe. And pull Belle's hair, like the mean little boy I am. Sorry I can't make it for Halloween :( and I can't make it for Den's barbecue either, it's Grandma and Grandpa's fiftieth anniversary tomorrow!

Brother Paul's leaving too. I'll really miss him.

First time I met him was when I was either six or twelve, it was at some dinner and he said "You're Jillian's son, right?" Those were the exact same words he used when he recognized me for the first time this year.

Never had a principal like him...never will, probably. It was really, really bittersweet on Thursday, as we said our goodbyes. He'll still be around, for a little while more...but not very much.

So here's a big thank you, Brother, for welcoming me to CJC, for always calling me by all my names, for giving me that big [very hard] squeeze on my shoulder, for wishing me happy birthday not once but twice...and for being a really great mentor, and a really great friend.

Ich errate, dass alle gute Sachen beenden mussten.

In place of German, I'm now learning Malay and Arabic on my own simultaneously, I've always wanted to but I kinda thought German and the two of them would be too heavy. I think it'd be nice to talk to Najib, Adil and Yati in Malay :) Yati's already super proud of my progress. Ini meja! Itu kerusi :P I'll move on from the furniture nouns soon hahaha.

Oh yes, promo results:
Econs - 50/D [final: 52/D]
Math - 53/D [final: 51/D]
Lit - 62/B [final: 61/B]
GP - 63/B [biggest disappointment, sigh] [final: 65/B]
Linguistics - 70/A [final: 73/A]
German - 83/A [biggest surprise!] [final: :S]

Basically, I got promoted and I can continue with my 4H2s. Sigh. Wish everyone could. Wish everyone made it and will be following-up, wish we didn't have to lose anybody. X(

On a happier note, I'll be doing H3 Literature next year, and it's been something I've wanted to do since I finished Os, so I'm really quite pleased about it :) Gotta select three texts and a research topic, 3500 words due in August 2010. It's like PW, but without three awesome, insanely hardworking PWmates.

Speaking of which, thank you guys for always covering for me, especially when I came to meetings late [often] and had to leave early [even more often]. I'm really glad we did a good job today, thanks for really being super super on the ball and super great friends too :)

OP's in two Wednesdays' time. Excitement builds.

The road ahead is long. Holiday looks like this:
Nov 16: Council CIP
Nov 22-25: 1T11/14 Batam OCIP
Nov 26-29: Family Holiday [no idea where yet though]
Nov 27: Legion CIP [yes I'll be dropping by :) ]
Nov 30-Dec 11: CJC-MINDEF Work Attachment
Dec 08: Najib's bday [one day reserved ^^]
Dec 13-19: Family Sabah OCIP/Holiday
Dec 24: CJC Christmas Eve Mass [hopefully in the new chapel]
Dec 29-Jan 1: Ohana Family Retreat

Leaving me with effectively 20-odd free days.

And throughout holidays:
The Children of Earth [btw, I'm really sorry about Chapter III being so late, I forgot to copy over my files when I sent my laptop in for repairs :P you guys'll have to wait till Monday]
Malay and Arabic
YoG Quiz planning
Orientation planning [a lot of this]
H3/Supplementary Lit reading [87 titles...whee]

and of course, revision for Math and Econs, and to a lesser extent GP, Lit and Linguistics. Gonna miss German.

Our time is ending. In exactly one year's time, I'll be more stressed out than I've ever been at any point in my life. 2010 is coming, an ending in so many ways.

But I'm gonna stick with the present, at least for a little while more.

And today was awesome, had a nice weird photoshoot with Zack, Aik Seng, Amanda and Steph, many thanks John! :) Had lunch at Lido, Pris, Paula, Brian and I had a nice engaging discussion on Then we watched Pandorum, Paula and Celine couldn't stop screaming!! Walked to the MRT with Marcus, Zhi Hao and Jeremy, Marcus lost a lot of games :P but bought some good books, great job!

Went to Raffles Place with Auntie Ser to attend the launch of Tumasik, which is this new anthology of contemporary Singaporean writing in the four languages, as part of the Singapore Writers' Festival. Belle, Rachel, you guys should've come! But I forgot to tell you :D it was really cool, got my copy signed by Mr Alvin Pang! Nice day indeed :)

Julian and Denice's confi on Sunday, Adil and Sam please tell me if you're going soon :) Can't wait for tomorrow, I can finally sleep in for a bit. Waking up early to read Tess of the D'Urbervilles online, can't wait for the hard copy XD

Najib says I'm bionic, I'm not, just crazy. :) and I really can't wait for As to be over.

Happy birthday Adil!!! Lol I have absolutely no idea if you're even gonna read this, you haven't returned any calls since September, but hope you have a blessed birthday little bro :) Haven't seen you in ages, really hope you're doing okay. Stay cool, stay small [but grow a bit], stay strong X)

Finally, GOOD LUCK EVERYONE FOR CHINESE/MALAY/TAMIL and Os!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!

Have a blessed weekend everyone. Spend it wisely :) Selamat jalan! [could be wrong, but oh well] Hahaha may the Force be with you all!

Zeekyang!

Hope
Five for Fighting

When life's got you down and you can't make a sound
cause despair has stolen your song
Just raise up your fist and into the abyss
Scream,"Coward, get off of my lawn"

You gotta have hope
You gotta have something
There's always a reason to break
Hope
Cause nothing less
Will save the day

Don't worry everybody. Things will be okay.

Tomorrow, it ends.

Five years of German culminate in one final paper, one final effort. Yes, just like the Halo 3 song :) It's also extremely exciting because it is the last Mother Tongue paper I will ever sit for, after eleven long years.

To the people who have journeyed with me in one way or another on the German road, I am super super grateful for your friendship and all the help you have given me: Chang Yi, Jackie, Wei Qi, Wen Jia, Karen, Kimberly, Tim, Felicia, Warren, Maurice, Michael, Rufina, Iman, Sai, Aydan, Ella, Selina, Clare, and of course good ol' Ryan bro, thank you for everything, und ich hoffe, dass du alle viel spass macht! X) Deutschland fur immer.

A really special thank you to the people from G5.10: Wadee, Erica, Delaney, Linh, Elizabeth, Edward, Kristel and Sai. You guys were really one hell of a class, and it was awesome [life's good man] getting to know all of you and working with you. Dunno if it works the other way too, but yeah :) Also to a lot of F5.10, whom I got to know this year: Kat, Shermaine, Kapilan, Ryan, Val Paul and Hue. French isn't as good as German, but it comes close :D

And of course, to my five tutors: Frau Anwar, Frau Heng, Herr Neiser, Frau Tan and Frau Schraudolph, vielen Dank!

Lord, I entrust to You
all who are dear to me
to Your never-failing care and love,
for this life and the life to come;
knowing that You are doing for them
better things than I desire or pray for.
-the Book of Prayer

Good luck for tomorrow everyone! Moge die Macht wirklich mit euch sein!

Zeekyang!