Post by Orin on Jul 26, 2010 14:08:59 GMT
The Hunted 1-1
[Location: Some small rural village on the outskirts of the Dead Plains]
Orin stood stock-still, the shades of his sunglasses concealing his facial features. “How much for these?” Orin said as he held up a case of twenty 12 ga. Shotgun shells. “Why won’t you take those stupid sunglasses off, eh?” said the shopkeeper. “Just answer the question,” said Orin. The man quickly quipped, “You can’t afford those, besides who needs them? No one around here, save for the earth alliance, has anything that uses 12 gauge.” Orin whipped out his Model 2020 shotgun and pointed it at the man, “Try me.” The man looked frightened. “Go on. Name your price,” said Orin. The man fumbled through a small paper pamphlet, apparently containing some prices of shop items. As he located the price of the shells, the man said, “That’ll be $50.00…bu…but I can give you half price, eh?” Orin quickly laid the full purchase price on the counter as he put away his shotgun, “Nonsense, a businessman’s got to make a profit, right?” The shopkeeper said, “You’re too kind,” and as Orin swung the door open to the store the owner answered once more, “Thanks for your patronage.”
Orin stepped out into the early morning light of another deathly hot day on the desolate planet of Galthos. He stopped a moment to put away the ammo that he had just purchased and began to walk down the dirt road that ran through the center of the small town. The village couldn’t have been more than a city block in length and no wider than a larger highway. Its population was undoubtedly small, and Orin noticed that, aside from a pathetic grocery two fronts away, the general store he had just come out of was the only other place of commerce in the miniature town.
As Orin approached the edge of the small village, he stopped. The vast emptiness of the Dead Plains and its rolling hills seemed to meld into a sea of brown dirt and grass on the horizon. He was not, however, daunted by the Plains’ expanse, but he was, in fact, challenged by it. This was a challenge he would have to accept, and this he did willingly. Orin was getting tired of the town that he was just now starting to leave, for he felt as if he did not belong there. People kept staring at him, watching him, and noting his every move, as if he were someone to be feared. He himself knew that he was not; however, he relieved to feel the burden of their watchful eyes being lifted off of him as he neared the Plains.
When Orin had first arrived on Galthos, he had done so via a stolen escape pod on a transport bound for Earth-2. When Orin learned that war had reached the planet, he second-guessed his thoughts about starting a new life on Earth-2. The crew tried to comfort any uneasy passengers, but Orin had experienced this all before. So Orin formulated an escape plan. When a vessel bound for another system leaves earth, there is a long period in which many of the passengers go into a form of hyper-sleep. Since the journey to another system is around a few years, the sleeping process tends to speed up that time. In this hyper-sleep, the body is literally “hooked-up” to several IV’s (intravenous therapy, like the thing they put in your arm at the hospital) and drugged into a long coma. The IV’s provide plenty of nutrition and waste-removal, while the medicines placed in the blood-stream keep the person asleep. In all, this was a relatively comfortable way to sleep for several years.
So what did this mean to Orin? Well, Orin had some experience with computers, a little. He recognized the timing system on these sleep machines and, when the time was right, set his to wake him up just when they were due to pass Galthos. To his surprise, the computer hack worked, despite how simple it was. All he literally had to do was removed the back of the machine and adjust it like one would any normal alarm clock. When Orin woke up, he found no opposition to his deeds. Everyone, including the crew, was asleep and not due to wake up for another three months. Orin broke into the cargo bay, gathered his belongings, and made his way to the escape pods. When he reached them, he opened one up, entered, and immediately jettisoned himself directly at the planet, Galthos. Thank goodness he didn’t miss, or he would have hit Lumina. The gravitational pull of Galthos sucked in the escape pod with Orin inside, and Orin landed near the Salt Mesa. He had been wandering ever since.
From where he landed, Orin headed west. He didn’t really know where he was going, but he knew that the Salt Mesa was to the east, and he didn’t want to be there. At some intervals, he would find an abandoned town frequented by too many dust storms, and he would loot the place for supplies. He found his rifle and shotgun at one of those abandoned towns, but his pistol he had smuggled with him all the way from earth. The need for supplies was ever present, and Galthos was not the easiest place to obtain such necessaries as food and water. However, Orin persevered up until this point at the Dead Plains.
As he stood at the edge of the Plains, he considered the just how difficult it would be to cross these rolling hills. Little food and water would be found, and hardly any outside contact would be made. Orin now had to consider how strong his urge was to journey west. After careful consideration, he decided that he had little choice. He had come to Arcia to escape being hunted down, and if his hunters had followed him, then he would have to keep moving. Orin didn’t like what he had to do, but he did it anyways. With his first step, he felt a sense of safety and well-being. He knew that he would at least have to make it to the horizon, after that…who knows what was on the other side.
[Location: Some small rural village on the outskirts of the Dead Plains]
Orin stood stock-still, the shades of his sunglasses concealing his facial features. “How much for these?” Orin said as he held up a case of twenty 12 ga. Shotgun shells. “Why won’t you take those stupid sunglasses off, eh?” said the shopkeeper. “Just answer the question,” said Orin. The man quickly quipped, “You can’t afford those, besides who needs them? No one around here, save for the earth alliance, has anything that uses 12 gauge.” Orin whipped out his Model 2020 shotgun and pointed it at the man, “Try me.” The man looked frightened. “Go on. Name your price,” said Orin. The man fumbled through a small paper pamphlet, apparently containing some prices of shop items. As he located the price of the shells, the man said, “That’ll be $50.00…bu…but I can give you half price, eh?” Orin quickly laid the full purchase price on the counter as he put away his shotgun, “Nonsense, a businessman’s got to make a profit, right?” The shopkeeper said, “You’re too kind,” and as Orin swung the door open to the store the owner answered once more, “Thanks for your patronage.”
Orin stepped out into the early morning light of another deathly hot day on the desolate planet of Galthos. He stopped a moment to put away the ammo that he had just purchased and began to walk down the dirt road that ran through the center of the small town. The village couldn’t have been more than a city block in length and no wider than a larger highway. Its population was undoubtedly small, and Orin noticed that, aside from a pathetic grocery two fronts away, the general store he had just come out of was the only other place of commerce in the miniature town.
As Orin approached the edge of the small village, he stopped. The vast emptiness of the Dead Plains and its rolling hills seemed to meld into a sea of brown dirt and grass on the horizon. He was not, however, daunted by the Plains’ expanse, but he was, in fact, challenged by it. This was a challenge he would have to accept, and this he did willingly. Orin was getting tired of the town that he was just now starting to leave, for he felt as if he did not belong there. People kept staring at him, watching him, and noting his every move, as if he were someone to be feared. He himself knew that he was not; however, he relieved to feel the burden of their watchful eyes being lifted off of him as he neared the Plains.
When Orin had first arrived on Galthos, he had done so via a stolen escape pod on a transport bound for Earth-2. When Orin learned that war had reached the planet, he second-guessed his thoughts about starting a new life on Earth-2. The crew tried to comfort any uneasy passengers, but Orin had experienced this all before. So Orin formulated an escape plan. When a vessel bound for another system leaves earth, there is a long period in which many of the passengers go into a form of hyper-sleep. Since the journey to another system is around a few years, the sleeping process tends to speed up that time. In this hyper-sleep, the body is literally “hooked-up” to several IV’s (intravenous therapy, like the thing they put in your arm at the hospital) and drugged into a long coma. The IV’s provide plenty of nutrition and waste-removal, while the medicines placed in the blood-stream keep the person asleep. In all, this was a relatively comfortable way to sleep for several years.
So what did this mean to Orin? Well, Orin had some experience with computers, a little. He recognized the timing system on these sleep machines and, when the time was right, set his to wake him up just when they were due to pass Galthos. To his surprise, the computer hack worked, despite how simple it was. All he literally had to do was removed the back of the machine and adjust it like one would any normal alarm clock. When Orin woke up, he found no opposition to his deeds. Everyone, including the crew, was asleep and not due to wake up for another three months. Orin broke into the cargo bay, gathered his belongings, and made his way to the escape pods. When he reached them, he opened one up, entered, and immediately jettisoned himself directly at the planet, Galthos. Thank goodness he didn’t miss, or he would have hit Lumina. The gravitational pull of Galthos sucked in the escape pod with Orin inside, and Orin landed near the Salt Mesa. He had been wandering ever since.
From where he landed, Orin headed west. He didn’t really know where he was going, but he knew that the Salt Mesa was to the east, and he didn’t want to be there. At some intervals, he would find an abandoned town frequented by too many dust storms, and he would loot the place for supplies. He found his rifle and shotgun at one of those abandoned towns, but his pistol he had smuggled with him all the way from earth. The need for supplies was ever present, and Galthos was not the easiest place to obtain such necessaries as food and water. However, Orin persevered up until this point at the Dead Plains.
As he stood at the edge of the Plains, he considered the just how difficult it would be to cross these rolling hills. Little food and water would be found, and hardly any outside contact would be made. Orin now had to consider how strong his urge was to journey west. After careful consideration, he decided that he had little choice. He had come to Arcia to escape being hunted down, and if his hunters had followed him, then he would have to keep moving. Orin didn’t like what he had to do, but he did it anyways. With his first step, he felt a sense of safety and well-being. He knew that he would at least have to make it to the horizon, after that…who knows what was on the other side.