|Lucky encounters (standard:science fiction, 4454 words)|
|Author: David Lamb||Added: Jul 03 2006||Views/Reads: 2366/1350||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A man with nothing tries to start a new life with the help of the union goverment, but things are not as they seem... With the help of a fugitve woman, will he be able to survive?|
Lucky Encounters by David Lamb Do you believe in luck...? “And in the Union government's galaxy, there is a place for everyone...” Steven sat on the bench and let the electronic blare of the tele-board rush across him. He took a moment to look up at the 20 foot high sign, the sparkling woman on it speaking as she pointed out the central planets of the galaxy, with huge cities, their skyscrapers reaching up into the sky, long beaches, clear blue oceans... “So come, and live in the beautiful face of Lady Universe...” Steven smirked. If those places were Lady Universe's beautiful face, where he was sitting now was her hairy armpit. He took another moment to take in his dire surroundings. The shuttle port was riddled with damp; the walls were cracked, and covered in graffiti. The glass roof, once a wonderful view of the stars, was now rotting after too many years of the pigeons using it for target practise. Everyone else in the port with Steven fitted the same description: Poor, no direction, and solitary. They were travellers, and they were proud of that. Steven scowled as the smell of what a tramp was doing in a plot plant nearby him reached his nostrils. Before he could ask how someone could possibly vomit that loudly, a stark voice came over the speakers: “All ticket holders for the shuttle to Posiris please come to the admission desk.” “Finally”, Steven growled, and walked up to the queue with the other people, everyone letting out grumbles as they tried to push their way to the front. Eventually, a single line was formed, and Steven waited. The man in front of Steven was big. Not just big. Huge. He looked like a shaven bear, and about half as intelligent. A strong smell of nightclub toilets was hanging around him like an extra piece of clothing. When the man reached the terminal, his baggage was put through a machine that soon alerted into a large amount of high-pitched beeps. When the huge man was told that he was not allowed to take his 37 flasks of Extra strength whiskey, he elected to drink them all instead. Not for the first time in his life, Steven wondered how his life had ended up like this. As the huge man stumbled over and spilt whiskey all over Steven's trousers, the tramp in the corner went on for an encore. She loved the chase. The thrill of escaping, of evading, of outwitting her enemies. She laughed as she skipped round the corner; it was just like when she was a child, with her dear brother chasing her round the farm. Except of course, now the farm is an industrial shuttle port, and instead of her brother, she was being chased by high-level security police. But the differences didn't matter really, along as she was having fun. “And oh what fun I'm having!” she thought, and let out a cry of laughter as the bullets skimmed her head and shattered a window. “Please make sure all luggage is safely concealed in the overhead compartments...” Steven sat down and sighed. The shuttle was about in the same state as the rest of this damn planet. He sat back against the broken seat, and weighed up the chances of the ship disintegrating as it hit atmo. Travelling the universe wasn't working out the way Steven had planned. There had been no glorious adventures, no damsels in distress, and no civilisations in his dept for his amazing heroics. Well maybe that was a little over ambitious. But nothing had changed since he'd left his home on Io, Except that now he had even less money, and a much lower sense of personal hygiene. No, being a space-hobo was not how he had pictured his life. The girl ran round the corner, brushing sweat of her brow. The police squads on this planet matched the rest of it: old and decrepit. It would be more challenging for her to outrun a weight watchers club. Now if this map was right... Perfect. In front of her was a huge spaceship, two stories high. This shuttle would fly up and dock with a mother ship, a huge metal goliath, six miles long, that would take the travellers to their next destination. If the cops thought it was hard chasing her round a shuttle port, the humongous ship in orbit would bring a whole new meaning to the phrase: “needle in a haystack.” As she Click here to read the rest of this story (336 more lines)
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