(Author's note: As the following is my original creative work, it is copyrighted and illegal copying is strictly prohibited. Any coincidence therein to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. For legal purposes, this work is a parody of the science fiction genre. Expect explicit sexual content, if this offends you or if you are underage if your country of residence please do not continue reading.
Enjoy the story =D )
Cold.
That single word burned and blared in my mind as my eyes burst open to the cruel sting of freezing fluid. I sat up, gasping for breath, frantic limbs reaching out for some hold on reality, quickly finding the edges of my sleeping pod and then achingly pulling me out. A blur figure greets me silently with a towel, gruffly swiping the moisture off me, then wrapping the fluffy fabric around my nakedness.
I shook myself to my senses, eager to regain my bearings. A lone flickering lamp hung wanly from the ceiling, reinforced to withstand bomb shock with somber metallic gray bars, as were the walls. All around, transparent man-sized capsules lay untenanted, splatters of dried cryogenic fluid marking the departure of the frozen. My only current companion was completely unidentifiable, obscured from head to toe in a cowled, dirt-specked brown robe.
"I was frozen? What-"
"Please, dress yourself with a robe from that locker and proceed along the only exit. Your answers await at the end."
I nodded curtly, quickly donning a robe, much like the other's, but a pristine white. Walking out alone as directed, I considered only the most obvious knowledge: that a cataclysmic event had come to past, and as an individual of special worth, I had been preserved as part of a project to preserve humanity. Before any stray thoughts could wander by I had reached an amphitheater of sorts, monotonously wallpapered with the same gray metal, but sporting a small stage occupied by a lone bald fellow in a black robe. His eyes met mine sternly, as if I had kept him waiting.
"Peace. The last of our settlement has arrived." The chatter rife among seats filled with white-robed men and women, weighing the unknown prospects of a dark new world, extinguished like a candle to the wind. I took an empty seat.
"For the benefit of the latecomer - I am Sky Captain Fred Monteiro, the commander of this, settlement 15A. I present the warrant of duty-" he paused to place a certificate on the scanning interface of a projector that immediately beamed it up onto the movie- style screen behind him. Officiously adorned with a tattered blue ribbon and the Governor-General's stamp, the document named him as said commander. "My word is law, a law enforced by a platoon of enforcers who are among us in this chamber. They know their duty and will carry it out without hesitation. Quench any flimsy criminal thoughts now." He paused again for his gruff, grating words to sink in.
"Now, this video prepared by the Department of National Emergency just prior to our transport here and freezing will explain everything. Watch and know."
The certificate was replaced by the green flag of Archine, emblazoned with a bald eagle gripping a wand and robotic forearm in its talons, and then the crest of the Governor-General.
"Good day, noble citizens. I am Gov. Gen. Morrigan." His was the face of an old soldier, lined with wrinkles and scars alike. He wore the common soldier's greens, albeit bedecked with medals and ribbons on his proud chest. "As you may have surmised by now, a terrible mishap has occurred. By the time you hear these words, the cause will be irrelevant - in fact, they are best forgotten. What matters is that you survive and prosper to keep humanity's-"
The screen trembled as if the ground was shaking then, and the general looked aside to an invisible aide, his furrowed brown brow knit with frustration, but his eyes as clear as day. Quickly he spoke on. "Your priority is to survive and prosper. You have already met your group commander, he has been briefed on situation control and will be the highest authority you can refer to. I have personally met with each and every group commander-"
Another forced silence - behind the general portraits of himself and his wife shook and shuddered before falling to the ground with the crunch of broken glass. "He or she is a soldier of stoic character and will lead you wisely. Trust him as I did, as you trusted me before, for he will lead you-"
Another tremor, a bright orange flash - and then nothing. The Sky Captain took center stage again.
"Hear me: I know the video raises more questions than it answers, but pray give me your trust, and do as I ask. As I was briefed, today all we need think about, the only thing: is getting used to our new living environment. This settlement has individual apartments for each of us, as well as place for work and play. Now, this-" He flashed another paper onto the screen with ordered passport photos, pointing to one, "Assuming you are Jonathan Friedman, you will recognize your own picture. As stated directly below, good Jonathan is designated cluster three, apartment five." The letters beneath his photo read DES: 3-15. "Now, when you see your photo and designation appear, approach one of my ushers at the doorways beside the stage. They will direct you."
This mechanical sorting proceeded uneventfully enough, and halfway along I spotted myself: a gentle blonde lady, quiet blue eyes with a slight smile. I made my way down to an usher, along the way feeling more than seeing the curious eyes that followed - real or imagined, I was simply used to it. Robed in brown like the first person I'd met, the usher directed me down the other doorway beside the stage, winding through the corridors and signs till I'd reached my 'designation': cluster one.
As always the walls were built for bomb-stress, but my new abode looked pleasantly homely. A twinkling chandelier, intricate carpet, a number of computer terminals, a wide screen TV and a fireplace with plush crimson couches made a cozy living room, from which the individual apartments branched off down small corridors.
"Bit of a tight spot we're in, eh," chirped a raven-haired man beside me, his wavy locks stylishly slicked.
"Certainly is. I wonder what year it is." I replied off-hand.
"That's a good question. Could be anything from a hundred to a thousand, depending on what the guys on top thought at the time they froze us. Really wrecks the memory. I'm Michael, by the way. Mike will do."
"I'm Jamie, nice to meet you." I smiled perfunctorily and shook his hand. He squeezed and felt a little more than was polite; I made a small mental note.
"Everyone, before we carry on mingling and getting settled in, I'm afraid there's the little issue of my cluster briefing," a slightly diminutive fellow in green army uniform with a broad toned chest and a voice to match, stepped out before the fireplace, "I'm Lieutenant Rodrigues, your arbitrary Cluster commander. If aliens burst through the ceiling, I'm the one who calls the shots, but informally, I'd rather you all think of me as just the messenger. Ain't no tightass like Monteiro. I've known the guy since we were in the academy, and he is tight." A few ruffled chuckles. "Now, let me start my briefing proper. Please listen carefully." He cleared his throat.
"As members of Cluster one, you are responsible for exploring the unprotected world above, with the aim of gathering resources, material or information, that will boost chances of reclaiming and resettling of land above, and eventually re-propagation of human civilization. Each and every one of you has your own apartment, which will contain individual-specific equipment and notes for your vocation in this cluster. I need to stress this: that your vocation is mandatory; there is no avenue to pursue for re-vocation. Non-compliance is punishable by the Settlement Comd's security. Within our cluster, we know each other's job, naturally, but under no circumstances are we allowed to discuss our work with members of other clusters. Again, punishable by Sett. Comd."
"Your Cluster commander, yours truly, is the highest authority within the cluster. His word is law. He will appoint a Cluster second-in-charge to assist in command decisions and to take over command in the event of his incapacity. His task is to coordinate your operations and liaise with the Settlement Commander. Now that you've all got that, you will learn about your new job. Try to learn and get used to your equipment before dinner, then we can get to know each other over a warm meal. My apartment is number one, if any of you guys need me, and your apartment is unlocked biometrically. Retina scan. Any questions?"
"Yes, I do." A raised hand, and a tall well-built black man speaks out, "What exactly is the punishment for the non-compliance as mentioned earlier?"
"Well, I was hoping I wouldn't have to say it out loud." He paused, "Understand that despite the material comforts around us, we are the sole survivors of a catastrophic global event. We live in harsh, fragile times, in our own little hole, so there's really no margin for internal violence and dissent." He paused to look each of us in the eye.
"Death. The penalty is death."
He turned away and slipped into his apartment. Surrounded by strangers, the rest of us disappeared into our own cocoons.
The room looked satisfactory. A bright central ceiling light as well as bedside reading lights, a personal computer and work desk, a smaller but generous telly, and a soft king-sized bed. Smirk. Well, there would certainly be occasion for a companion in time to come. I found a pleasant surprise in my locker: my own clothes were all there. Happily I shed that drab robe and appraised myself in the mirror for a while. One might imagine hundreds of years asleep wouldn't do much for muscle tone, but cryogenic fluid not only provided nutrients but stimulants to keep muscle fibers active just enough to keep them in shape. Otherwise we'd all still be lying or squirming pathetically in our sleep pods. It was nice to see all my work at the gym was still there - my arms were toned for endurance, not bulky, brute male strength, although I had pumped my quads and gluts with considerable weight, but then again it was quite alright for a girl to have 'critical mass' there. They looked as strong, supple and shapely as ever.
One part of myself I'd never liked were my breasts though. I suppose a C cup is moderate by just about anyone's standards, but I'd always wished I was a B. I fashioned myself an active, outdoorsy girl, and a B wouldn't get in the way of work and play that much.
Speaking of work - it was time to just stop dawdling and get down to it. Can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of reading, be it old paper-bound books or on a comp. I just wasn't much of an academic. Still, a girl's gotta do... I powered my comp up, and it prompted me to enter some routine personal details, set a terminal password, and then more of the same with the various applications. Clicking on the file 'FirstBriefing.exe' on the desktop launched a full-screen menu with an Archinian flag wavering to some invisible wind. That wan emblem of a long extinguished nation invoked faint memories of my own service in a national agency: flashing my badge at a roadblock, firing my handgun at a range, at a warehouse shootout, taking photos with the other graduate girls at the academy - was I a police officer? Detective? Try as I might the memories flickered and faded. It seemed terrible, to flush a lifetime of memories down a sleeping pod.
