And here is the next chapter for those of you who haven't already
decided to lynch me in effigy! <grin>
Ed Becerra
"Dreamers may die, but the dream is eternal..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, here's Chapter 3! I'm sorry it's so late. I wanted to get
permission from some of the gang in UF in order to continue using
their characters. It was rude of me to start this without doing so in
the beginning.
As always, my gratitude to:
Darren Steffler, a.k.a Twister
You working on the next chapter of Twisted Path #3, my
friend? I can't wait! HurryHurryHurry!!
Chris Schumacher
Just finished Original Flavour #0. Do more! (& a little
more Crys Saga, pretty please?!)
Bert Van Vliet
I just read Bubblegum Zone #8. I can sympathize. I did the
shell shock thing once, myself. That's why I'm writing this
now, to try & deal with it. Your story helped. Thank you.
And always to the UF gang. MegaZone, Gryphon, ReRob, PCHammer,
Chris, and 'Doc Mui. Thank you. UF pulled me out of a dark
place and a terrible time.
Additional dialog for 'Doc Mui by *DRUMROLL PLEASE*
Pearson "DOC" Mui! (ThankyouThankyouThankyou!)
Now on with the story...
And the LEGION continues...
(guess the StarTrek quote got misspelled, eh? Heh, heh!)
**********************************
"Come with me/Leave yesterday behind/And take a giant step
outside your mind."
- The Monkeys, "Take A Giant Step"
"What do you mean, I need emotional counseling? I made it by
myself for over a decade without having any damn shrinks poking around
inside my skull. I do _not_ need any blasted witch doctors rummaging
around in my mind. Most of my problems were _CAUSED_ by those
incompetent bunglers. I DO NOT NEED A SHRINK!" Ed yelled at 'Doc Mui.
"Of course you don't. You're large enough already. BTW, you're
shouting at me." the physician deadpanned.
"I'm NOT shouting! I'M NOT SHOUTING!! _I'M NOT SHOUTING!!_" Ed
shouted. "I'M NOT... hey, i guess i am shouting... whooo..." He
collapsed onto the hospital bed, shaking uncontrollably. He put his
face in his hands. "What's wrong with me, Doc? I can't control my
emotions anymore. I'm falling apart! Can't you help me?"
STEEL BREEZE PRODUCTIONS
and
Industrial Might & Logic
Are Proud to Present
L E G I O N ' S Q U E S T
Chapter 3
(or, We're off on the Road to... Hey!, Who's got the map?!)
"Ed, the only thing you really need right now, is therapy. A
sympathetic ear, if you will. Physically, you're fine. Well,
actually, you're better than fine. `Fine' would be Death warmed over
compared to you. From the readings and whatever I've taken, you're in
perfect health. Even better than what's possible with the Omega-2
retro-virus (which I kinda thought was pretty unlikely, but I
digress). Your main problem right now is an old one. Post traumatic
stress syndrome. Battle fatigue. Shell shock, if you will. You've
had too much crammed down your throat too damn fast and no room to
chew. You haven't had enough time to deal with the sudden,
overwhelming changes in your life." Doc pointed out. "I mean, let's
face it. Hopping dimensions and time is *not* like going for a ride
around the block. I should know. I've done the transdimensional
temporal tango myself a few times." Pearson eyed the man with more
than a bit of sympathy. "If I were to prescribe anything for you, it
would be a long vacation and a great deal of rest, along with a
sympathetic shoulder to cry upon and perhaps some tranquilizers."
Ed snarfed. "Like that's a lot of help. I'm not even sure that
I should be allowed to leave this ward. Look over there." He pointed
to a fist-shaped dent in the wall near the bathroom. "I tried
drinking from a regular glass this morning. It shattered in my hand
when I picked it up. I punched the wall without thinking about it.
The duty nurse told me that the walls in this room are ten millimeter
thick rhenium-tungsten alloy, harder than diamond, denser than
depleted uranium, suitable for battle armor on an SDF. I put that
dent into it without breathing hard. I didn't even break a sweat." He
looked away, his face filled with self-loathing. "I'm a monster. A
freak. I can't even walk down the street without endangering innocent
people. I'm no better than a rouge boomer. You'd be better off if
you loaded me aboard a derelict and launched it into the nearest star.
At least that would keep the decent people out there safe."
"EEENNT! WRONG! The WDF is _NOT_ in the business of killing
innocent people, especially people who are dropped into our laps by a
bizzare twist of fate. Once again, I would know." Doc told him. "You
didn't see us hounding Marty away when he became a Transformer, did
you? Yet he can be just as potentially dangerous as you are. After
all, as a Transformer, he's _very_ powerful. I've seen him punch
through bulkheads made of 3-foot Durasteel. He could _easily_ kill
somebody, at least in the sense that he has weapons enough. But he's
judged by his actions, _what_ he does and _who_ he is, not by his
destructive capability...even if they do include the occasional Nerf
brick." He played with his wirerims for a moment. "Around here, we
judge people by who they choose to be, not by what they may seem to
be. Quit beating yourself up for something that isn't your fault, and
try to learn how to _DEAL_ with your new abilities. Learn to
_control_ your powers, instead of letting _them_ control _you_! I
hate to sound like some chintzy inspirational motivator, but it's
true. Also, take your time. It took Marty months to learn the
self-control his new form required. Oh...you wanna know something
else?"
"What?"
"You once commented that I was really fast one time. Well,
somebody helped me through that, seeing as how I'd gotten that way
through an accident. And no, I'm not gonna elaborate anymore than
that. The point I guess I'm trying to say is that we all need
somebody to help us through sometimes, and it takes time."
"And what happenes in the meantime? What will you do when I
manage to injure some person whose only crime was to get in the way of
an out-of-control superhuman? What about them? I spent eleven years
in the military trying to keep innocent civilians safe from the threat
of war. Now I'm the threat that they need protection against! I only
need to lose my temper just once and the result would be death and
destruction as far as the eye can see. Or even worse, I'll manage to
do it unintentionally!" Ed refused to look Doc in the eye. Still, Doc
could see the fear and shame in his expression. "I can't allow that
to happen, Doc. I won't let it happen! I'd rather die, first."
"Well, that's always a choice. Although, in your current form, I
think you might find suicide just a tad harder to commit than it
usually is. Remind me to show you your medical records sometime. We
couldn't even get a blood sample from you. Besides, you need to get
out of here. A hospital can be a depressing place for a patient,
sometimes. I'm going to see about aranging a place for you to stay."
Doc smiled at him. "After all, you can't stay here forever."
"That's all well and good, but how can I pay for it? I kinda
doubt that my MasterCard or Visa are valid _here_ and I don't have any
income to pay my bills. I'm a dead broke deadbeat." He sighed.
"Although... I do seem to recall that Eiko once had a job as a
countergirl at the Wedge Wendy's. If there are still fast food joints
around with live people behind the counter, maybe I can get a job at
one. At least it would be an honest living. I'll just have to
remember how easily things break, now."
Doc chuckled. "That's a start. I'm going to go make a few
arrangments, and then we'll get you checked out of here and find you a
place to live for now." With that, Doc left the room.
Ed turned toward the bathroom, getting ready for a quick shower
and shave. The staff had cleaned and repaired the clothing he'd
arrived in, and he wanted to look presentable for his first day out in
New Avalon. *Well, I suppose it could have been worse. I'm still
alive and I have a chance at making a new life for myself. And I've
arrived in a pretty good universe. After all, I could have wound up
in Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend. Or maybe Demon City
Shinjuko. Brrrr! Yeah, things could have been _MUCH_ worse!* he
thought with a shiver. *I suppose I _should_ be grateful. Better get
a move on and get ready for what's ahead. Doc's probably right, as
well. Somehow I get the feeling that the old razor blade to the wrist
or a .38 to the temple just isn't gonna work on me, the way I am now.
So, I guess it's time to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start
all over again.*
**********************************
Meanwhile...
"I honestly believe that all he needs is time, Zoner. Time to
adjust to what he has become. I've kept an eye on him for the past
ten days. He seems to be a good person, honorable, compassionate,
that kinda thing. He IS haunted by his past, and his fear that his
changes will make him into some sort of monster, but I don't share
that fear." Doc informed MegaZone. "I hate to sound like a shrink,
but somewhere in there is a very gentle man who has been hurt very
deeply, and is desperately afraid of being hurt again. He's put up
emotional walls to prevent that from happening, and now has the
additional guilt of dealing with the injuries that those walls can
cause to those around him. That only adds to his problems. He
honestly believes that he's about to turn into some sort of third-rate
knock-off copy of Largo."
"So what do you recommend, Doc? I'll go along with any
reasonable suggestions you've got in mind." MegaZone responded.
"I'd really like to put him somewhere close to Marty and Eiko.
Between the two of them, they have a lot in common with Ed. Hell,
Marty knows what it's like to have everything go topsy-turvy in a
single instant. And I hate to admit it, but no one knows how deep
guilt can cut than Eiko. They both understand pain. I don't think
that there is a gentler soul in all of New Avalon than Hammer. If
they can't help him to relax and learn to accept himself, I don't
think anyone can." Doc looked soberly at the screen. "And if we can't
get him to accept what's happened to him...I don't like to think about
what will happen."
"He _does_ have a great deal of power. I can't say that hadn't
crossed my mind. Hmmmm... There's a bungalow at the end of the
street that's currently unoccupied. Someone tried to build a replica
of Hollywood's famous 'Witch's Cottage'. We can put him there. And
I'll have Gryphon ask Eve to look in on him, regularly. Would it help
any if we introduced him to some of the more interesting people in the
WDF?"
Doc frowned. "Who were you thinking of?"
"Selene. And R-Type. She'd be a little more familiar with the
incredible, superhuman powers bit. And Mann understands what it's
like to be trapped in a world where you don't quite fit." MegaZone
grinned. "I had a talk with Gryphon about his little trip to get
R-Type. I learned all sorts of fascinating things."
Doc grinned back at him. "Sounds good to me. How soon can I get
him moved into the bungalow?"
"Give me a couple of hours. I'll have Vision push the paperwork
through. Everything should be ready by this afternoon."
"Great Scott, Zoner! How can you get it done _THAT_ fast?" Doc
joked, in his best Dr. Emmet Brown impression.
"Hey, how can you build a time machine into a DeLorean?" Zoner
smirked.
"Oooh, that hurt. That _really_ hurt. You seem to have
forgotten a few things, pilgrim." Doc said in his Eastwood imitation.
"I know where you live. I know where you sleep. And I _know_ where I
can get Nerf bricks by the godzillion, cheap. Keep that in mind." he
finished with an evil grin as Zoner closed the connection.
**********************************
"Visions haunt my memories/They hold on, hold on desperately."
-Cher, "Still in Love With You"
It was a sunny morning in New Avalon, a wonderful day that seemed
made for daydreams, picnics in the park and other such pleasant
pursuits. But that didn't help Ed.
Marty and Eiko had done their very best, and at times it seemed
like they had suceeded. Ed had joined in on all the activities,
played, albeit _very_ carefully, with their children, had even helped
the W'harnyrs dodge Ralph Giles. He'd attended all the carefully
planned events that had been oh-so-carefully crafted with an eye
towards helping him cope with his sudden loss of his home and his
former life. He smiled widely, and often. He'd even managed to
become a reasonably good counterman at a nearby Wendy's. But at
night, when he thought he was alone, the pain and fear would pour out
like a fountain of acid, corroding away at his soul. He never knew
that Eve was there, silently watching.
He'd tried to commit suicide three times since he'd moved into
the bungalow, with knife, poison, and gun. Doc had been right.
Trying to slit his wrist with a razor was a joke. The poison merely
gave him a bit of indigestion, and he might as well have hit himself
in the head with a Nerf brick, for all the damage the pistol did.
What with the disapointing results, he'd given up on suicide, for
the time being, and concentrated on trying to make his new
acquantences believe that he'd adjusted. He didn't really want to
mislead them, but he didn't want to disappoint them, either. So, he
tried to put up a good front, and soldier on. It wasn't working very
well, though. Helen Keller could have noticed his depression from
half a mile away. In the dark. During a thunderstorm.
There WAS one bright spot, though. He'd managed to discover the
New Avalon Public Library. The number of books that were available to
him nearly sent him back into a state of shock. Books on screens, on
paper, in recordings, in every form. The index alone was a small
library in it's own right. He spent every free moment he could spare
reading, and when he was at work, he'd listen to recordings of books.
The librarians were astounded that someone who wasn't either chromed
to the limit, or an AI, could devour books at that rate. On a good
day, he'd often go through a book an hour! It reached the point where
the librarians would cringe when he walked through the door and
demanded, "Hey, what's the latest out today?" He'd already reduced two
of the librarians to incoherent frustration when he'd tried, several
times, to hide out in the building overnight, in order to read more
books.
And he'd obtained a personal computer. Everyone who had the
opportunity to examine it tended to groan a lot. Operating systems
had undergone four centuries of evolution, during his accident.
Artificially intellegent systems had been created. There were totally
optical systems in use. Cyberspace was everywhere. And what did he
request for his system?
That it be able to successfully emulate a four hundred year old
Amiga 500+ home computer, built by Commodore Business Machines(tm).
If he hadn't been invulnerable, he would have died, then and
there, at the hands of the outraged members of GweepCo. The clerks at
the computer store who had been trying to sell him a _decent_ system
felt much the same way.
Still, his choice proved useful to Ed's new acquaintances. Eve
had hacked into his system, (hacked, PUH-LEEZE!, she walked right in.
Like, some security, eh?) and monitored it. She didn't like what she
found.
* * *
Personal Log: Entry 58.
I've been here for just over three months, now, and I seem to
have managed to fend for myself. The job at Wendy's is paying enough
so that I'll be able to rent myself an appartment of my own, soon.
Not that I want to leave this bungalow, but I can't stand to see the
Roses trying so hard, (and ultimately, so futilely), to cheer me up.
It's not their fault that I'm such a walking cloud of depression.
They're good people. They don't deserve to dragged down along with me
when my emotional ship sinks.
It's strange. Sometimes I wonder why I bother going on. I'm
parsecs, centuries, and several dimensions distant from my home. Will
I ever see my home again?
According to 'Doc Mui, from what few readings the hospital's
research center has been able to take, I can expect a lifespan of at
least several millenia. A depressing thought. I've considered trying
to hitch a ride on a freighter headed for the galactic rim and jumping
ship at one of the uninhabited globular clusters just outside the main
arm and simply hide out as a hermit, but it's not likely to happen. I
just don't know enough to even make a stab at being deck crew on a
starship. Note: make time to study current technology.
In addition to that, there seems to be a somewhat more serious
problem. _Someone_ is >testing< me. I've had several serious
accidents occur, both at work, and at home, that seemed aimed at
determining my current abilities and limitations. While at work, the
replicator at the Wendy's somehow replicated an unstable form of
matter. That matter DE-stablised and blew up rather violently.
According to the investigators, that should have been impossible.
None of the parts of the replicator were defective, none of the
safteys had been bypassed. What bothered me most of all, though, was
the fact that I had thrown myself in front of it just a heartbeat
BEFORE it exploded, saving several lives by catching the blast with my
body. How did I know? I just felt that I HAD to move in that
direction, _right away_! I still don't understand it.
I'm trying not to let that bother me, however. But the accidents
have continued. Not all of them have involved others. Most of them
seem like simple household and work accidents involving defective
equipment. The trouble with that is, here and now, with intellegent
systems, accidents like that don't happen anymore. They're caught
_before_ they happen. It's really straining the laws of probability.
And every one of these little incidents seems to reveal another thing
I'm capable of doing. Not good.
I haven't spoken with Doc or the Roses about this. I don't want
them worrying any more than they already are.
Once is happenstance.
Twice is coincidence.
Third time is enemy action.
I'm worried.
End Log Entry 58
* * *
Finally, Eve decided to intervene.
The phone rang. *No, dammit, it's not a phone anymore, it's a
communications screen.* Ed thought. *I wonder who's calling? I'm not
expecting Marty or Eiko right now, and Doc's on duty today.* He closed
out his current log entry, saved it, and walked over to touch the
'Accept' key.
The screen lit with the image of a beautiful woman with silvery
hair and golden eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said in a musical
voice that almost took his breath away, "but I need to speak with you,
Mr. Becerra. Or is it Edward, perhaps?"
"Ahhh... Just Ed. Or Tony if you prefer. There were so many
Edward's in my family" -a sharp pain in his heart- "that we needed
some way to keep things straight. So I took my nickname from my
middle name of Anthony. But I find that I don't really need that, not
here." he responded. "If I might ask you a question, dear lady?"
"Please do." she said.
"Do I know you? You seem somehow... _familiar_, yet I'm quite
certain that we've never met before. Are you someone that I should
know, or know about, perhaps?" he wondered.
"I'm surprised, Tony. During your interview at the hospital, you
seemed so... knowledgeable about our little universe. Don't you
remember telling us of all that you read about us in the stories that
you called 'Undocumented Features'? Not all of us were made of flesh
and blood, you know!"
"You're... Eve, the AI from the WDF Wayward Son! Yes! I
remember now. Larry Mann described you in the story 'Include R-type'.
I should have recognized you!" he berated himself.
"Don't feel bad about it. You've had a great deal on your mind
since you arrived here. Besides, there's a favor that you can do for
me." she told him.
"Me, do a favor for one of the greatest powers in cyberspace?
Why do I find that a little hard to swallow?" *Oh, jeez, like, insult
a goddess of cyberspace, stupid! I thought you'd given up on
suicide!* he thought. "Uhhh..., I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend
you. I don't know what came over me. I guess I'm just tired. If
it's something I can do, then I'd be happy to do it for you. But I
have to make sure it doesn't conflict with my shift at work, ok?" Ed
blurted out.
Eve looked at him closely. She'd gone through his log entries
without his knowledge, and was well aware of his private worries. But
the stress seemed to be telling on him more than she'd thought it
would. He needed a break, one where he'd no longer feel quite so
helpless or hopeless. And she felt that she had just the right
solution.
"Ed, I have a friend who needs an escort to a picnic that's being
held today at Central Park. She's a little uneasy about going with
someone that she knows, but doesn't wish to go with a total stranger,
either. Since she's someone that you're familiar with, but not a
close friend, I believe that she'd feel comfortable going out with
you. Would you be willing to accompany her?" Eve asked.
"I... suppose so. It's a Saturday, and I've got today off. But
don't you think that I might put a damper on things? I'm not the
Dyson sphere's most cheerful being right now. I could probably
depress an entire army, all by myself." Ed told her candidly. "Not
exactly the sort of person to make the ideal date, you know."
"That's all right. In a strange way, I think it might actually
help. This friend of mine doesn't quite know what to do with a date,
and someone who wouldn't push is just the person I'm looking for to
take her today." Eve responded.
"Well, if it works for you and your friend, I suppose I can
handle it. I'll get cleaned and changed. A old set of pajamas and a
bathrobe aren't what I should meet a lady in. Casual or formal, this
picnic?" Ed asked.
"Casual. And I'll send a car to pick you up and take the both of
you to the park. You won't have to worry about a thing."
"Uhhh... By the way, might I ask the lady's name? I don't want
to look like a total boor, you understand." Ed said.
"Selene. Although you might also know her as Iczer 2. Thank
you, Ed. I do appreciate your doing this for me. Bye!" And with
that, Eve left the screen, which went dark.
Ed turned from the screen and staggered towards a chair. *Iczer
2,* he thought. *I'm dead. Boy, am I dead. I'm so dead, they're
gonna have to kill the entire Becerra family to make up the
difference. This girl... this THING managed to battle the entire WDF
fleet to a standstill. It took _Vaughn_ to stop her. Oh, boy. But a
promise is a promise. I'd better get changed into some nice clothes.
I'll wanna look good when they bury me.*
**********************************
"I must have done something right in a previous life.... can't
imagine what that might have been."
- Simon Phoenix, "Demolition Man"
New Avalon's Central Park was a beautiful place. Lush with
greenery, it had been designed much like the older Central Park of New
York City, back on Earth. And unlike it's predecessor, crime wasn't
much of a problem here. In an effort to repair GENOM's reputation,
the corporation had donated several dozen boomers to the city
goverment as park police. Paired with a human partner, and well aware
that Caine would land on them like a megaton of bricks if they screwed
up, they kept the park quite safe. Not that there was much crime to
begin with. With but a few exceptions, most everyone here worked,
directly or indirectly, either for the WDF or for one of the megacorps
that had an office in the sphere. What little crime New Avalon did
get, tended to be imported.
Ed looked around at the park, unable to relax. He was far too
tense to enjoy the beauty around him. Probably because of the
red-haired beauty standing next to him. Iczer-2. Also known as
Selene, these days.
*I've got to relax! She'll be able to tell that I'm nervous!
Damn it, I _know_ she's turned over a new leaf, I read about it with
my own two eyes back home. I don't want her to think that I'm afraid
of her.* he thought. *And she is a _looker_, that's no lie! If I
didn't know who she really was, I'd probably be trying to get her to
come back to my place to take a look at my etchings. Heh. No wonder
Vaughn fell in love with her sister? predecessor? prototype?. No
matter. Iczer-1's a babe, and so is Selene. So RELAX, dammit!*
"Uhhh..., it looks like the picnic is over that way. Shall I get
us a table, or would you prefer to sit on the grass?" he asked.
*Duhh! Real suave, bonehead! Next time, why don't you just drool
down the front of her dress?* he thought savagely to himself.
"A table would be nice, thank you. I'm told your name is Edward.
Is that what you usually go by? I've found that names are very
important, although I still have some trouble understanding some of
the subtleties in their meanings." she said in a warm contralto. *He
seems _very_ nervous. Well, Eve warned me that he might be. Although
I still find the idea that he knows everything about us from reading a
_FICTIONAL_ story, somewhat disturbing. The idea that there exists a
world, a _universe_, where we are nothing more than fictional
characters is... unsettling.*
"Folks mainly call me Ed. That's pretty much what I've been
going by since I arrived here. I used to go by the nickname of Tony,
but... I don't know, it just seems to bring up unpleasant memories
anymore. So, when Doc called me Ed, from my Driver's Licence, I guess
I just decided to stick with that."
"If that's what you prefer to be called, then that is what I will
call you. Would you like to eat now?" she told him.
"Ok, I'll go find us a table. Would you care for anything in
particular to eat? What would you like to drink?" he asked. *Better,
much better. At least you didn't sound like a total idiot! Try to
keep it cool, and you won't embarass yourself in front of the entire
habitat.*
She watched as he walked over to a table, staking it out for
their use. *He's very polite, despite his unease. And he looks
rather handsome.* she thought. *Strange, though, his hair seems black
with red highlights at one moment, then it appears mahogany with black
highlights. The silver at his temples does make him look rather
distinguished. I hope he can relax. He behaves as though he were
carrying the weight of the world on his sholders. Eve was right.
He's been hurt, and he's still recovering. His being torn from his
home dimension certainly didn't help matters any, either. What he
needs, is a day where he doesn't have to worry about anything. A day
where he can try to forget all his worries and cares. Perhaps I can
help him with that.*
"Well, I got us a table. What would you like to eat? They've
got barbequed chicken, polish sausage, hamburgers, and pork chops. Or
if you're into seafood, they've got some nice barbequed jumbo shrimp
and some grilled halibut."
"The shrimp sounds nice. And a glass of iced tea would go well
with it. I noticed that there is some potato salad, as well. I would
like some of that." she answered. *He seems to be calming down. Now
if I can just avoid any upsetting topics...*
***
"... and so _I_ said, 'If you bent that gun barrel into an "S"
shape all by yourself, then you can damn well bend it back.' Heh, heh!
You should've seen the look on his face when he realized that _no_ one
in the gunshop was gonna help him, and that he was gonna have to pay
for that rifle out of his own paycheck. And when Sargent Messick
found out _HOW_ that idiot bent it in the first place...
Bwahahahah!!!" Ed laughed helplessly at the memory. Selene smiled, as
well. The thought that someone as dense as the private that Ed had
just described could actually enlist in a serious military machine...
It was ludicrous!
"I do not understand how such a person could have served in the
military, even during the 20th century." she said. "It seems that a
person that... slow-witted would have been weeded out by the selection
process during recruiting." *He appears to be enjoying himself now.
Strange, but when he truly smiles, rather that faking one, he seems so
much younger. I could grow to like this young man.*
"Well, <snicker> I guess it was a _little_ before your time.
This happened back in 1982. What was that, about ten years before you
were incepted, I think? Back then, before the budget cuts, standards
weren't as high for the lower ranks of the enlisted. They were still
trying to build the numbers back up, after discontinuing the draft.
Come to think of it, the enlistment forms that I signed still had a
block you had to check off, indicating if you had enlisted by choice.
The other option was enlisting at the order of a judge, in lieu of a
jail sentence." Ed shook his head. "Then the silicon revolution hit,
tools and weapons were given microchips to improve their proformance,
and suddenly, you needed more than just a strong back and a weak mind
to be a successful soldier. It took a sharp mind and a good
education. That pretty much locked out the poor and the ignorant."
"I see. That must have meant large numbers of people leaving the
military at that time." Selene mused.
"Yeah. But our weapons were better than any other nation's. So
we were able to do more with fewer people. It really changed the face
of the Army for many of us." Ed told her. "Hey, looks like your
plate's empty. Would you like me to get you a refill?"
"No, thank you. But I would like to take a walk in the park, if
you don't mind." she said.
"I.. I.. I'd like that too." he stammered. *Riiight! Smooth
move. Sound like a geek on his first date. Just the way to impress a
woman. _NOT!_ IDIOT!*
They disposed of their trash, and Ed offered his arm to Selene.
She looked confused for a moment, then placed the guesture. Accepting
it, they strolled off into the park.
**********************************
Personal Log: Entry 59
Yahooooooo!!!!
End Log Entry 59
**********************************
And that's Chapter 3. I hope you enjoyed
reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you did, email me and let me know what
you think of it, all right? Oh! Remember,
watch this space for Chapter 4 of <yeah, yeah,
we know, already!> "Legion's Quest".
Thank you, and have fun!
Concepts stolen from -
Commodore Business Machines & Escom GmbH : The Amiga 500+
Hollywood, California : The famous 'Witch's Cottage'.
Pearson "Doc" Mui stolen from: Pearson Mui!
(And Boy! was it hard, smuggling him over the state line.)
(He put up quite a fight!)
Seriously, 'Doc rewrote most of his dialog for me.
I wimpered, sniveled, groveled a lot, begged at his feet...
Well, you get the picture. And he most graciously agreed
to help. (Please don't hit me again, Doc! I'll be good!)
I owe him big for that. So I'm appending his .sig below.
(I no got .sig file of own self yet. Any suggestions?)
+----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Pearson Mui ("Moy") |My personal philosophy- |
|Self-proclaimed strange medium guy|Nothing is impossible, merely improbable,|
|with a bad haircut. ^_^ |impractical, or unfeasible. |
|U59090@UICVM.UIC.EDU,pmui1@uic.edu|http://icarus.uic.edu/~pmui1/home.html |
|BGC, RANMA 1/2, UF (plug!), WING COMMANDER 3 (take the Excalibur!) ^_^ |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
Thanks again 'Doc!
And Remember.....
"Anime... It's not just for breakfast anymore!"
Ed Becerra
edward@genesis.org