by Greg Dragon
Camille was suddenly afraid, for she knew that her boyfriend was a man of his word and the implications of the treason he whispered would see him skinned and displayed if ever the jumpers were to know his intentions. But she too was fed up, and after listening to Rafian’s speech about the surrendering of her body, she felt a sense of peace that made the idea of martyrdom seem like the most beautiful thing a human being could do in his or her lifetime.
“It shall be done,” she replied, and they held each other in the tiny corner of the library for a few more minutes, speaking of happier times when they thought that they would save Vestalia together and retire there. When they separated and sneaked back into their rooms, Rafian felt a twinge of satisfaction having used the techniques of stealth taught to him the week past to rendezvous with his girlfriend right under the noses of his masters. He slid through the circular window of the apartment and replaced the glass before bolting it, locking it, and finally taking a breath.
“So how did she take it?” Tayden asked. She was awake and sitting up in his bunk, which was her way of letting him know that she wanted to go a final round before they were made to get new partners the next day.
“Oh, she was upset, of course. But how upset could you be when you are forced to commit the same atrocity that your lover is made to do, eh?”
He moved over towards the bed and removed his clothes to lie beside her, but she didn’t make any advance outside of pulling him close and kissing his shoulder.
“I would like to thank you, Rafian VCA, for being such an awesome bunkmate and—”
“Lover?”
“I was going to say ‘good guy’!” she snapped back, grinning.
He was confused and looked at her quizzically.
“Oh, I’m serious, lover,” she continued, this time touching him in a way as to influence the excitement that would be necessary for the upcoming act. He put his questions to the side and made love to her as he always did, vainly trying to imagine her as his beloved Camille. Imagining was futile, as Tayden’s enthusiasm and vocal cues were just too much for him to ignore. He would be lying to himself if he said he disliked it. Tayden had become special to him in a way that he couldn’t understand, and he wanted to keep in contact with her even after they had graduated as persons.
At the same time that Rafian was “tucking Tayden in,” Camille, in her own bed, had taken her boyfriend’s words to heart about her body and was using it to assist her partner, the red-headed Zevon, to get over his own sadness. When he had learned about the sterilization process, he took it hard and was plotting to kill Arn and many others for ruining him. Camille had managed to calm him down, but with the change of partners that was going to occur the next day, he began to plot again, and she knew that sex was a way to keep him focused.
Zevon wanted to be a father and thought that a position with the jumpers would provide a better quality of life for him and his wife, who was left at home. He was a good man who was ignorant to the jumpers’ way of life, just as Camille was. This ignorance now meant he had lost his wife and the ability to father children.
* * *
On the third month of training, the twenty recruits were down to thirteen. Cloning was a privilege afforded only to persons and above—the demonstration with Tayden being an exception. When they squared off in teams to play war games against each other, seven recruits had managed to lose their lives. Arn had been missing for a little over a month, and new jumper trainers were flown in weekly to train them on the various skills they would need to be the galaxy’s saviors.
The sex ritual was finished after month number two, and each jumper recruit was stationed by himself or herself now with a new directive to avoid sexual relations for the remainder of the year. Rafian didn’t imagine that it would be as hard as it was to obey this new rule, but he found ways to sneak around with Camille, Tayden, his always-horny fourth bunkmate Willen RAE, and, of course, Foh, the half-Meluvian beauty with the snow-white hair and gorgeous dark-green freckles.
The recruits had grown—as was expected—to accept their fate as jumpers, and their focus shifted to excelling at the various tests rather than feeling sorry for themselves.
Camille had become hardened. It was very difficult for Rafian to see this when they were together, since she was always a delicate flower with him. But her resolve was all steel, and she was responsible for the deaths of two of the seven dead recruits. Both of the men she killed were bunked with her at one point, and Rafian suspected that the deaths were due to revenge. Rafian assumed that his suspicions were correct since Camille would clam up when he would ask. He felt they must have hurt her in some way when the whispers started to circulate that she had cornered them on the course and summarily executed them.
With Rafian, she was always sweet, and while the other recruits feared her ruthless ways as a peer, he didn’t see her as any different from his future wife whom he had met on the docks of the Helysian.
As the calendar skipped along, the days and nights of training all felt the same, and the exercises were the only thing that had any variation for them. Since each of the recruits had been an elite soldier prior to coming here, physically the training was not difficult. Mentally, they had all been through it one way or another, and while some adjusted quickly, many were like Camille and Zevon.
The recruits would wake up early in the morning and do a run of about eight miles. They were given a liquid breakfast and a few minutes for a bathroom break, and then they were made to run simulations that would place them in the middle of wars, natural disasters, and more. At one time, Rafian was made to survive space after being ejected from his ship with limited air and no real way of getting back home. There was never any indication what a simulation would be, and when the recruits entered the training ops, they had to be ready for any situation at any given time.
Once the recruits managed to finish a simulation, they were given three hours of break for lunch, shopping, and personal time. It was during these times that Rafian would sneak away with Camille or one of the other girls, or he’d find a quiet corner of the base to meditate and practice some of the things that he was learning. Once the three hours were up, the recruits would reconvene, spar one another inside the arena, and try to improve their fighting skills with unarmed combat. The next couple of hours were dynamic, as it depended on who was leading the course. Whatever the exercise was, it normally took them into the evening, when they were sent home to shower and return to study warp crystal technology before dinner.
This ordeal kept Rafian’s muscles sore, and he began to pay Nobel Dethu—a fellow recruit who was a trained masseuse—to massage him once a week. The recruits all got to know one another extremely well, and Rafian knew them all by their first names and corresponding numbers. There was Tayden, the lusty and auburn-haired Willen, Foh (as previously mentioned), Nobel the masseuse, Zevon, Cathe, Valk, Mithryl, Lei, Kari, and Syphl.
Syphl was one girl whom Rafian would never forget, because she burst into tears when they became bunkmates. Due to Rafian’s height and grim visage, she swore he would be rough with her and eventually harm her, so she cried out of fear that their week together would be traumatizing. Rafian, aware that his physique could be intimidating, made every effort to be extra gentle with her. This led to them becoming very close afterwards.
The jumpers who died were not ones he knew well, but he felt it dutiful to learn their names and honor them. The men Camille had executed were Maurice and Rusl; the others were Destyn, Jo, Akbar, Bryan, and Fin.
As the year trickled on, Rafian and the others began to notice a change in their form, shape, and abilities. It went beyond the training and conditioning, and it was assumed that a sort of hormone or steroid was being given to them through the food to make them physically impressive. There were no complaints about this, of course, but Rafian wondered if there was a reason for it beyond the needs of combat. It was not a big enough concern to raise an issue, so he kept it to himself and did his training.
On the eleventh month of training, Rafian was summoned to Arn’s office, which was the large, padded, white room that he had first visited. The place still had nothing but a chair, some holo-desks, and furniture that would materialize on command whenever they were needed.
The old man got up from behind the desk, and it vanished into the floor as he did so. He walked over and inspected Rafian from head to toe before nodding in approval and sending away the aides who had brought him in.
“We’ve been grooming you, number Zero Three,” he said slowly. “You and your beloved number One One, that fiery Camille Yan of the Helysian.” He said her name in a mocking way, which led Rafian to believe that she had crossed him a few times throughout the year.
“Grooming us for what, sir?” he asked humbly, a respect that had been learned through months of pain and conditioning under the leadership of the jumper organization.
“I know about you two, y’know,” he said as he bit into a cherry and stared at Rafian intently while nodding his head in amusement at the shock that was echoed on his face.
“The sneaking about, the nastiness, and most of all…the plotting. We know it all.”
He let the silence get uncomfortable and cautioned Rafian to stay quiet.
“We expect recruits to be strong, number Zero Three, not broken. You have feigned compliance; you, that girlfriend of yours, and number Zero Five have all played the part of liars and conspirators within this temple of learning. Though you think it your free will expressing itself, my boy, I assure you that this sneaking, lying, and rule breaking were all part of the test, and you three have passed with flying colors.”
He kept watching Rafian, whose rapid eye movement seemed erratic as he puzzled over what was going to happen to him, and whether or not Camille and Tayden were going through the same thing.
“What’s to happen to me, sir?” he finally asked, resolved that he would finally meet his fate through pain and death, the way he had always imagined it would end within this hell of white walls and mysterious people.
The old man kept pacing, and a number of men and women walked in, dressed in silver armor and brandishing black staves. When they surrounded him—there were six in number—he dropped to one knee in anticipation of lashing out and forcing them to kill him as a fighter instead of a prisoner or a pathetic example for the other recruits. When he fell to his knee, one of the armored women touched him with her staff, and he felt his body go still and then topple. He was now helpless, unable to control any of his limbs or utter a word.
The six jumpers interlocked the staves in a way that hoisted him above their heads and took him to the library, where they moved a panel on a shelf. It opened up to reveal a circular room where a bright crystal stood floating within a column of light. There was nothing else in the room except for a stone chair decorated with symbols that looked like nothing a human could have made. Rafian wondered what had happened to the other recruits. He would normally see some mulling around during that time of day, but the temple seemed to be vacant as his captors strapped him to the chair facing the crystal. He began to feel a numbing pain behind his eyeballs.
“Welcome to your first jump, young Rafian.” The old man was speaking, but it appeared as if he was doing so telepathically.
“In a few minutes, you will cease to be who you are and will forget everything that you think you know about your life, your history, and even your beloved Camille YAN. You will be making your first jump, recruit, and when—or should I say if—you complete the mission, you will come back to us a person.”
As soon as he said the word “person,” Rafian lost consciousness, and the bright light was the only thing that he would remember for a very long time.
Memory 13 | Rhiya of Talula
On the quiet streets of Dearin, Talula, a lone, dark figure appeared from the mists, looking about as if it were his first time there. It was midnight, and the clean night smell was welcoming to his nostrils, especially after a long day of running madly through the wilderness to get here. The man was cold, and he paused by a streetlight in hopes of its warmth being sufficient, at least for a little time. A Soltek officer walked by, giving him the customary nod, and he smiled in response. She was pretty cute and probably the most pleasant thing he had witnessed since his arrival. Her beautiful round face was enough to make him forget his aching legs for a while, so the gift of a welcoming smile was the least he could give her.
With much hesitation, the man pulled himself together and continued his stroll, his mind flashing to the past’s unknown and the future’s uncertainty. His memories were a dense nothingness, and it hurt when he tried too hard to bring them up. He knew his name, though, which was the only thing he could manage when he tried to remember how he had gotten on the moon of Talula.
His name was Rafian, but where he was from was a mystery to him. He had awoken in a wilderness lush with olive-colored foliage, blue flowers, and streams of pinkish water that reflected the tiny sun that illuminated the moon. Looming like a giant eye above him was a beautiful blue-and-green planet, and though he knew enough to realize that he was an educated man, Rafian was still unsure as to what may have caused such deep Memory loss.
He walked for a number of days before he saw the lights of the city and made his way towards them. On his journey out of the wilderness, he found an abandoned camp with some leftover food inside a tent. About a mile or so later, he came across the bodies of the campers, who seemed to have been mauled by a large animal. He rummaged through their clothing and collected the coins and items that they had on their persons. While he had no Memory, he felt as if he knew everything about the people of the city.
His deep thoughts were soon interrupted by las-gun fire, and he dashed to the sidewalk to avoid the crossfire. Some men were pursuing a darkly clad man, exchanging shots midstride and endangering anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Ducking behind a bench, Rafian watched the fight continue until the man killed the two pursuers with expert aim and precision. With his heart pounding, Rafian snuck behind the closest building and dashed towards the next intersection. Looking around for any more trouble, he spotted a lively saloon and made his way into its doorway.
The saloon was bustling with activity. It seemed as if the entire city were there. Rafian walked in and checked his pockets as if more credits—other than the two hundred he had taken—would magically appear. To his dismay, there was no such magic, so he tried to find a private area where he wouldn’t be tempted to spend the few that he had. He looked around for some time and eventually spotted an empty booth towards the back of the saloon. He started making his way towards it.
“Welcome to the saloon, handsome!” A short human female stepped in front of him to bar his way, breaking the background noise with her greeting.
“Hello,” Rafian said, astonished by how bold this woman was. She wore a very short skirt and a golden top that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was cropped short and accented by azure fanlike frills. Her skin was a light tan and was complemented by lovely full lips, tinted blue to complete the ensemble. She stood a little over five feet, was extremely shapely, and was very well proportioned. Rafian immediately knew what she was as yet another thread of familiarity broke through his amnesia. Apparently, she was a prostitute who smelled the off-worlder on him and had moved to meet him as soon as he came in. No matter what galaxy you were on, the foreigners were usually the easiest tricks to turn, so it made sense for her to be as friendly to him as she was being. Rafian in this state of mind was no different, because he wanted her, and he wanted her badly.
Seeing the surprise in his eyes, the sexy nymph introduced herself as Riyah Mist and took his arm as he walked to his table. The fur couch felt like heaven as he sat across from her and relaxed for the first time in two days. Scanning the saloon, he noticed the walls were made of stone. The bar itself was also made from a rocklike substance, and the glasses all had a dark transparency that made it difficult to tell wh
at fluid was being poured into them.
The clientele was a mix of alien races, and very few resembled him and Riyah. People were staring, but most were caught up in their own conversations and drinking without a care in the world.
“So, where are you from?” Riyah asked as she seductively ran her right leg up Rafian’s left. She was smiling with her tongue between her teeth and wiggling to let him know that she was hot.
Rafian felt as if he had to keep his cool, as this woman seemed like a she-wolf who was after the few credits he had and nothing else. With much effort, he concentrated on this fact. She wasn’t his friend; she didn’t care about where he was from, and if she could sucker his credits away without a sexual act, she would gladly rob him and leave him as dead as the men he had witnessed getting shot earlier.
Snapping into gear, Rafian cocked his head with a sly smile and said, “Be cool, lady. I’m not from here, as you can probably tell. I don’t suppose you know any friendly locals who could help me feel at home here, do you?”
Riyah flashed a toothy smile and asked, “What do you do? Are you an officer or merchant? I can’t imagine anyone else outside of that hopping around the galaxy…or maybe…are you a pilot?”
Looking up at the dance floor with a distance in his eyes, Rafian replied, “I am a bit of each, babe. Please don’t think me rude, but it grows late, and I have an urge something terrible. The only cure may be a drink and a bit of tenderness, if you know what I mean.”
In a strange, awkward moment, Riyah Mist stared at Rafian as if trying to read the thoughts in his head.
“You do understand what you’re asking for, don’t you?”
Rafian brushed it off and scanned the room. He was not sure what he was doing or why the words flowed from his mouth so effortlessly, but he kept talking, partly hoping that the prostitute could read more into who he was and tell him.
