Dan Neumann
(Chapters of OMA: Part 2)
Chapter 1: Preamble of the Butchery
-October 14th, 3054-
“Now class, simmer down. I know you are all discovering your new memories but you must quiet down to begin the recall,” Mrs. Cloos lectured. “Class, please settle.”
A classroom of newly introduced students, that had just undergone the process of a DMD (Direct to Memory Device) lesson insertion, never seemed tranquil. There had always been a slight tingle in the back of the spine after such a procedure. To amplify this already hysterical sensation, the first experience contained a certain unsettling and bizarrely anxious feeling to it. As a result, all the children of the “Tindroderoga 12459 Elementary Unit, Class Three” couldn’t quite restrain themselves.
Mrs. Cloos turned her body away from all the vacant desks, which were supposed to be occupied with the children. She walked towards a grey desk with a flat monitor laying face up in the center. At the far left corner laid an apple certified to be delicious by an orange, edible sticker fused to the fruit’s pink skin. As she sat down in an exceptionally wide chair, she heard the plastic wheels glide over the smooth surface of the tiled floor.
She took a few moments to decide whether or not she would eat the apple now or during her lunch session. Then, she realized her original basis of abandoning her frenzied students. Her fingers rested and then stiffened on a dark, blue button. This movement then activated a lively tone to announce a contact has been made. She spoke aloud, “Dan, can you get down here? I got some new ones that just got finished with an incremental DMD lesson. Their brains are too hectic for me to get anywhere. You’re good with kids.”
Dan responded, “I’d love to Mrs. Cloos. All depending though… can you put up with me?”
Mrs. Cloos laughed and said, “Not a chance, but these kids are going to drive me insane if they don’t just keep quiet. Even more insane then your behavior.”
Dan chuckled, “Sounds pretty awful. I’ll be right down.”
Mrs. Cloos, after disabling the channel, starred at the apple once again. As she gazed into its smooth and glossy texture, she felt her mouth water. Once the natural biological need for nourishment was felt long enough, she snatched the apple from its original seat on her desk. She brought it level to her eyes and right as she was beginning to turn it canted and then towards her mouth, Dan knocked on the classroom door.
The sound of the knuckles to wood interrupted her almost complete transaction between the apple to her stomach. Dan yelled through the door, “Eh Mrs. Cloos! Would you mind letting me in?”
Mrs. Cloos, slightly startled, set down the apple back in its original place and sat up. She pushed the chair out of the way by use of the side of her waist in a slight thrust. She walked to the door and saw Dan’s distinctive face smiling on the other side of a frosted window encompassing a small upper region of the door.
Mrs. Cloos opened the door. “Okay Dan, just get these kids to shut up and then you leave.”
Dan flexed both his eyebrows inwards and questioned, “Are you in a bad mood today?”
Mrs. Cloos shook her head and explained, “I just feel like garbage today.”
Dan walked towards the front of the classroom, looking at the children. They all had nametags on their green, uniformed shirts and most were rubbing the back of their necks. There were even two children on top their respective desks and shouting.
Considering this sight, Dan walked back towards Mrs. Cloos. “Yeah, ummm. Yeah. Er… I might need to get Brooke down here.”
Mrs. Cloos sighed and said, “You mean your girlfriend? Whatever. Just make these kids calm down.”
After three minutes of pacing back and forth between the crowded aisles beside the desks, Brooke finally arrived. She immediately shouted, “Hey guys! Sit down!” in a loud and unearthly tone. So loud, in fact, no other noise, or noisemakers for that matter, could compete. The room was silent. Until Dan said, “Hey thanks, Brooke”
Mrs. Cloos beamed to herself, “Now that’s better” Then she spoke aloud for the classroom, “Now we will begin our recall with a history lesson. Not just any history lesson, but the one of the planet you’re on. Humans first colonized Tindroderoga in the early 25th century. It was discovered habitable by the means of a satellite that found its way in the Earth solar system. From there, our radio telescopes picked up its signal. At the time, the United States was just losing power. Countries around it learned to mistrust the powerful country for its selfish hold on all space colonies. The poor, but over populated countries of the East, most notably Russia, China, and Japan, joined an alliance together. Once the United States was overthrown, and the trajectory of the satellite’s launch point was known, the race began. Eventually-“
Mrs. Cloos was cut off by a long drawn out alarm, accompanied by several flashes of yellow tinted light. A monitor activated above her head. The screen held a woman inside, a projection of a newscaster, who had an urgent message. She informed, “Attention all present on Tindroderoga. The worst has come. We don’t know what the exact intentions are, but a large ship the size of Continental Core ship is in orbit over your planet. You are authorized and encouraged to use the Emergency Flee Pods in your vicinity. The U.S.C (United Sovereign Countries) has one ship in your solar system, the Respergo. Please stand by for more details.”
Brooke gasped then spoke, “It can’t be. The Surculus wouldn’t go that far, would they? Is that girl they are after even here? I thought she was still with Admiral Taylor Cone.”
Dan stretched to reach the monitor at the high elevation in the room and tapped on the screen three times. A voice spoke, “This is Potasonic Television. How may I aid you?”
Dan yelped, “Mute with captions.”
Mrs. Cloos said, “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t want these kids to know about this, do you? Wait, they can’t read yet, can they?”
Mrs. Cloos thought for a moment and said to the class, “I know we haven’t undergone recall of the English portion yet, but does anyone here know how to read?”
One child, named Octavian, raised his hand. Mrs. Cloos shook her head horizontally and then said, “Oh dear. Okay then, everyone hold your hands over Octavian’s eyes.”
Octavian chuckled hardily when everyone motioned their hands over his eyes, slightly waving them for him to see light ever so often. He felt their chubby fingers hit his eyelids and it only made him giggle more. After all, such was routine procedure for a five year old.
Then Brooke pointed out, “Hey the news is back on!’
The reporter carried a depressed expression. As her lips motioned, a black bar became visual on the screen, enclosing white letters. The words read as follows, “The attack vessel, labeled the ‘Guillotine’, has launched its weapon. A blue disk, the size of the Earth’s moon, is in direct route to Tindroderoga. The hit should produce about 2.24*1032 Joules. It will completely annihilate the planet in five minutes. Again, we urge you to utilize your local EFP (Emergency Flee Pods) as soon as possible.”
The lips paused for a moment. Then they resumed movement, with the company of the white lettered words, “This is just in. The Respergo has intercepted the weapon. They are launching their missiles. No effect. The Respergo has fired all twenty-five of its plasma cannons. The disk has not been neutralized, I repeat it is still a threat. Its velocity is still powerful enough to split the planet in two at this point. The Respergo has launched all of its SDF, shuttles, and lifeboats. The Respergo has moved directly in front of the object. Oh my God! Oh my God! The Respergo! It is gone. It was just there… but the disk is. The disk is. Oh God… It is my regret to inform you that the disk will still collide with Tindroderoga. God’s speed to whoever is down there.”
The woman who broadcasting the news, on the screen, was now in tears. She was handed a white cloth from a technician that appeared from the right bottom edge of the monitor. She patted her running makeup and there were no longer any white letters in the black bar at the bottom of the monitor. It was just that woman’s gloomy and powerless face.
Dan directed all the children, “Everyone, please enter this room here,” and pointed to a newly unsealed room with yellow and orange tape lining it’s edges.
Mrs. Cloos tapped Dan and Brooke’s shoulders lightly, signally them to walk with her to the other side of the room. She said, “There are only enough seats for fifty people. There are one hundred and thirty in this classroom. Grant it, some may be able to sit two to a seat. But, regardless, we are going to have to leave some behind. I will watch over the kids that choose to stay while you two go.”
Dan shook his head and said, “No. You have to be the one to go. Besides, we don’t have the right biometric identification to engage the EFP. You know those doors seal tight as soon as you activate it. I will stay and watch those that choose to stay.”
Brooke cried out, “Well I am not going anywhere without Dan. I’ll stay too.”
Mrs. Cloos kicked the wall in frustration and said, “No. You have too much life ahead of you. I will cut off my finger first!”
Dan said, “Mrs. Cloos you are wasting time. You have three minutes between you and whatever the hell blew up the Respergo. Don’t be irresponsible, you know the anti-terrorism units detect dead appendages. There is no other way. Now get out of here before it’s too late!”
Mrs. Cloos came to her senses and closed her eyes. She yelled out, “Kids, whoever wants to come with me, follow me. Everyone else, you can stay with Dan and Brooke. You guys can play dodge ball or something.”
Conveniently, sixty children never partook in that game and joined Mrs. Cloos. Just before she touched her thumb to the scanner, she said to Dan, “You know what? I always had fun with you in class. I just didn’t want you to know that. I am proud of who you have become. I just wish you could understand what you could have been.”
The door of the EFP closed airtight with a distinct vacuum effect. After that, the engines roared. The EFP launched. Brooke looked at the monitor that had a countdown, it read, “Forty seconds until impact.”
Octavian’s eyes no longer had the shield of the children’s hands over them. He read the screen and he was curious. He walked up to Brooke and said, “Hey, what is it counted down to?”
Brooke looked at him with a hard stare. Of course, Octavian was not the right age to interpret it fully. Regardless, she said, “It is the executioner of all things peaceful, Octavian. Peace is all going to end because of this.”
Dan wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and said, “It’s a shame. You would have been a great poet,” he paused and continued, “You know you’re beautiful, right?”
She gave him a quick kiss. Then saw the dirt rise from the impact. The entire world began to rip apart. It was a sight only seen for a matter of moments, but lasted for virtually minutes. Time seemed to slow down as the glass shards pierced through the room. Then Dan, Brooke, the children, the classroom, the school, the planet, and peace were no longer in existence.____________________________________________
Comments:
Dan Neumann (Editor): I would appreciate any thoughts on my first chapter from anyone. The book essentially will begin with the end. But you will later relive it under the eyes of the true characters. I have dates under each chapter to build up to this previously announced climax, while you slowly progress through the cause of this catastrophe. I borrowed the same concept of a shock-effect opening from my last novel, OMA: One Man Army. This is Part 2 of that story, occurring fifteen years later.
_________________________________________________
Chapter 2: Preamble to the Tale
-July 14th, 3054-
(3 months before)
Harold jumped from one automobile to another traveling at the rate of sixty miles per hour. As his feet dangled in the air, he saw he was finished. The man he took the jewel from had him in his sights. That man, who was wearing a dark trench coat, was holding a gunpowder activated pistol.
He felt the cold street below and knew its hungry asphalt would soon taste his blood. Harold watched the finger of the man, which was comfortably resting on the trigger, become rigid and firm. Once the sound of the fired weapon was heard, Harold’s defenseless eyes easily located the bullet. There isn’t much anyone can do in a situation like that.
Then to Harold’s surprise, his doorbell rang. The simulation in his personal gym froze. Then the room’s nanotechnology over-wrap theater went blank. He picked up a semi-used towel that suited his need to wipe away a bit of his sweat. Once his neck and forehead were padded to his satisfaction, he walked towards the door of his home.
“Yeah. Hello? Who is this?” Harold questioned in an irritated tone.
The man at the door leaned into one of the several tiny windows surrounding the frame of the door. This showed his face to Harold, which triggered an immediate reaction.
“Erin Pinter? Is that you,” Harold said as he twisted the doorknob, “Well come on in.”
Erin stepped back a few steps to allow the door to pivot open. Once the house’s interior became observable through the wide opening, he walked in. He looked at Harold with the eyes of a man who knew a grim future. He explained, “Harold, my friend, we have a problem… and I need you tomorrow.”
Harold paused, thought about the possible severity of the situation, and then tried to predict what it might be. After a few seconds of this, he outstretched an arm in the direction of a couch. He offered, “Please sit. I will whip us up some tea. Do you drink black tea?”
Erin slowly crept to the dark green leather sofa. He answered, “Thanks, I could use some caffeine right about now.”
Harold, who was now in the kitchen area of the house, inclined his head over the wall to reply, “Good.”
w w w
“Now what is this all about? If you don’t mind me asking. I was in the middle of a fun aerobics game. It took place in a 21st century ghetto; I was a superhero that needed to get a rare gem back that a crook had stolen. It has you jumping from vehicle to vehicle at such speeds. You have to feel the wind that this game creates. The Macrosoft Company never stops making awesome games. I want you to try this thing,” Harold said to Erin, losing track of the mysterious topic at hand.
Erin looked down and then began talking, while twiddling his thumbs slowly, “The Surculus have asked for a diplomatic assembly to discuss a problem they have.”
Harold sat down next to Erin, looking forwards, and said, “After fifteen years they have a problem with the treaty?”
Erin turned and looked at Harold. He stopped clashing his thumbs into themselves to speak with all his mentality, “Harold I need you to be there during the session. I retired from being the President of the U.S.C. a while ago, but I have to be there as well. You know why, right? We are symbolic. Not only was I the one that was sitting there for the cameras during the signing of the documents, but I was also the guy who killed their leader. I can’t wear the OMA suit there, but you can. You are still the President’s guard and he has handed your service to me for this occasion. Besides, the Surculus know you are a member of the notorious Team OMAHA.”
Harold leaned back and breathed in a large portion of air, at a measured rate. He questioned, “Do I have to be there? It’s no big deal, right? I mean we did beat them silly the last round, didn’t we?”
Erin marveled at the ignorance for a moment. His body language agreed with his thoughts as he rolled his eyes and pointed his chin upwards. He said, “Harold, Harold, Harold. You have no idea how lucky we are, do you? We were losing the war. We were losing the first half of the war. Why do you think we resorted in converting children into highly tuned weapons of war? Maybe our warships were untouched by their rocks, but what do you think was happening to our miners? They go in an asteroid belt, expecting to extract needed resources, to find atomic traps or an ambush or shuttle raids. The Celestial Guard, or any military force for that matter, has a talent for sugar coating the facts. Yes, we had managed to keep ninety percent of our territory but, what about the poor souls of the twenty-nine solar systems that were destroyed, hmm? They were our top scientist, brilliant minds, which we sacrificed for the greater good. Harold, why do you think I was so quick to order the destruction of the Barsilian Head Quarters? Why do you think I just condemned them all to death?”
Harold answered, “Well they were like Nazis. They were evil, right?”
Erin sighed and continued, “No. Even if that was true, there must have been more like Vanessa. We slaughtered them all, Harold. Want to know the real reason? Because I knew the Surculus hated them and the Barsilians we not powerful enough to be useful as allies. I knew that it took both fear and respect. We earned their fear by the assignation of their leader, and we earned their respect by destroying that Barsilian planet. If it was not for Team OMAHA and those OMA suits… we couldn’t have pulled it off. I need them to see both that fear and respect to avoid another war at all costs.”
Harold sipped some of his tea and felt the hot liquid slide down his throat. The soothing sensation that came henceforth allowed him a new perspective. He said, “So you mean to say, the Celestial Guard not only protects its citizens, but also decides how to protect our minds? And you are also saying that you will easily destroy an alliance in an instant just to place your chess pieces at a slightly more strategic advantage. What was I thinking when I signed up?”
Erin sat down his tea, without once drinking it, and said, “Harold, you weren’t. You were brainwashed. Now, I am glad you are finally learning the horrors of the military, but I need you on the same page. The U.S.C has been tracking the Surculus lately. We have found a gigantic arsenal. Make no mistake, Harold, they are not building these things to battle warships or to meet soldiers in combat. They are forging these weapons for the crippling of our will. They will go after civilians as well.”
Harold felt better once his suspicions were fulfilled. He could trust Erin even more after this truth spoken for his ears to tangibly hold as proven. He then began to wonder about the point he was trying make. He thought about his new mission, to protect the peace. He asked, “Who is the new leader?”
Erin separated the cup of tea from the saucer, by moving it to his lips. He tilted the cup in such a way that only small trickle made it passed his lips. After this he addressed the question, “We don’t know. But, whoever it is. He seems to have classified knowledge of hypothetical weapons. I can’t imagine how someone would go about obtaining restricted DMD lessons.”
Harold said, “Well we got to have a backup plan, right? I mean, what if we can’t keep the peace?”
Erin swallowed much more tea this time. After the warm wash of the fluid, he replied, “We have been repairing our old space fleet. We got the Celestial Guard integrated with all the militaries of the other countries. And… we have Contraho: a ship meaning unity in Latin, in spirit of the last great ship, the Respergo. This vessel utilizes the latest in wormhole rift inducer/STS fusion technology. It was designed by Alberto Semoré of course, so you know it of the greatest quality. In addition, it has a particle beam cannon using energy expelled by the STS drives, updated plasma cannons that are one hundred times more efficient then those of the Respergo, and a gamma ray burst that lasts for a full second.”
Harold got out of the couch and stood up. Once he straightened out his shirt, he faced Erin. He said, “How does it get all that energy, I will never know. Anyways, you mind shooting a game of Sporting Clays with me? I got it in my personal gym. It is a game originating from the late twentieth century, when we still used gunpowder. You hit clay disks with many pellets that exit the barrel via the ignition of the gunpowder. I am telling you it’s harder then it sounds.”
Erin nodded his head vertically, and struggled to exit the comfortable couch. They both proceeded to the personal gym where Harold would eventually be subjected to a loss from his own program to Erin, who had never played anything remotely similar to Sporting Clays.
w w w
Harold had one more question before Erin left his home. Erin was standing in the doorway, still grinning from his victory, when he saw Harold’s puzzled face. He stopped, turned around to face him, and said, “Hey Harold, anything wrong?”
Harold placed his hand on the back of his neck and stated, “Well. I was just thinking. Will I get a new OMA suit? Like an OMA Mark Three? Because OMA Mark One is getting pretty uncomfortable and it doesn’t have some of the great features of Mark Two. I just didn’t want the second version because it didn’t look as cool. I have some good ideas for another. Maybe I could talk to Will about it.”
Erin laughed one quick chuckle. “Harold, If everything goes right tomorrow, you won’t need OMA.”
Harold said, “Yeah. But… okay,” as he studied the rug at his doorstep.
Erin patted him on his shoulder and laughed, “It has been fifteen years, your thirty years old… and you are the exact same Harold. How do you do it?”
Harold looked up and smiled. He said, “I don’t know. I guess I need to get mature like Jack, eh?” Harold paused and continued, “… on that subject, where is he anyways?”
Erin envisioned the facts in his mind, while steadily looking upwards at the clear blue sky of Earth’s constantly recycled atmosphere. He found the answer among all the information stored in his aged brain, “Oh I think he is still in Italy. But they, both Jennifer and Jack, are headed down to Tindroderoga in a few months.”
Harold, content with just one more comment before Erin left, declared, “Well we will need to find Jack, Jennifer, and Geoffrey to get back Team OMAHA if this whole conference thing we are having doesn’t turn out for the best.”
Erin began walking away slowly; still facing Harold, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I am making all of those arrangements.”
____________________________________________
Comments:
Dan Neumann (Editor): Again... since this is my own book, I will spare any true comments. I am, however, interested in any outside thoughts. Send an e-mail and I'll be glad to post it to the site. I am not certain, but I feel these first two chapters may have too much detail. Be sure to include that in your comment back, if you would. They are both extremely rough compared to my latest chapters (which makes sense, since it takes me about three-five chapters for me to really warm-up.)
_________________________________________________
Want to add a comment?
E-mail the Editor at orlobooks@verizon.net
Or just E-mail the author at the supplied address