Jericho 01-01

Jericho Fiction:

Chapter 1:

            I sat at the edge of space, my feet dangling within kicking distance of the most depressing little nebula I had ever laid eyes on.

            Normally there was no place that felt more like home to me than basking in the silence of space. I could spend eons contemplating the wonder of physics that allowed it to keep floating along down the winding river of time, but now, I took little comfort in the vast emptiness.

            Today I felt alone.

            Behind me there was the soft metallic woosh of a door opening, followed by the delicate vibrations of bare feet upon my platform.

            “Mom wants to know what you want for dinner” David said casually, as if he had forgotten that I wanted nothing to do with that woman.

            “I’m not hungry” I said, giving the sad little nebula a swift kick, and watching as my foot melted through the elaborate arrangement of light and air that formed the hologram.

            David sank down next to me on the platform, his body folding neatly like origami to fit on the narrow ledge.

            Sitting side by side it was easily seen that the two of us were related. We shared the same height, light coloring, and had very similar skeletal structures, but where I was thin and gauky, still adjusting to the newfound tallness that puberty had given me, David had filled into the lean musculature of a trained athlete and the confident posture that comes with being the older sibling. He even had enough facial hair to require proper shaving, while all I had was a dumb patch of peach fuzz tickling the underside of my nose.

             I envied him.

            “Where’s the feed coming from?” He asked, curiously poking a white dwarf.

            I sighed, “One of the telescopes around Old Earth, but I enhanced it with an algorithm that predicts movement, so theoretically this is how the universe looks today”.  This was dumbing it down, but David and I both knew that he wasn’t here to talk about the mechanics of space, holograms, or how sad and pathetic this nebula looks.

            Still, David took his time and appreciated all of the endless wonder that is space before he opened his mouth again, “you know, you really shouldn’t blame Mom, she’s only doing what she thinks is best for you.”

            I snorted at this comment. My mother wasn’t doing what she thought was best for me, she was doing what my step father, Pete, told her to. She knew damn well that my father hadn’t wanted me to go to the Center, and to change her mind now was like pissing on his memory.

            “It can’t be that bad, Jason, it’s just a school” David continued, “I mean, I don’t even know why Dad was so adamant about you staying here in the first place, most kids would kill for a chance to get into a school like that.”

            He was right, most kids would, and I knew for a fact that David had had his eyes on the state run sports academy, but since he was nearing seventeen the chances of him being invited at this point where slim to none.

            “It’s not a school,” I retorted, “it’s a prison. Dad knew that.”

            Here, I’ll admit, I was being a bit melodramatic. The Center certainly wasn’t a prison, but it did share some striking similarities, the worst of which was that most students from the center would never see their families again.

            “Fine, fine” said David, “You can stay pissy if you want, but at least have dinner with us one last time before you go.”

            “Ungh,” I grunted. I shouldn’t have been talking out my anger on David, but I didn’t have another outlet at the moment. “Tell Mom she can make whatever, just don’t call me until dinner is on the table.”

            With all that needed having been said David rose to his feet and silently made his way out the door, leaving me to stew in the juices of my own aggression.

           

            “Whatever” turned out to be fish, which my mother served whole so that as it sat on the table, its lifeless eyes could stare me down while I took heaping bites of its flesh. It probably should have been more unnerving, but I was trying to focus all of my energy into giving Pete the dirtiest glare I could muster.

            Peter Solomon came into our lives only three short months after my father had died. He claimed that he was one of my dad’s coworkers, and just stopping by to drop off some of Dad’s personal items, but I hadn’t heard of him.

            He was a deceptively good-looking man with a smile that could charm the pants off a snake, tanned skin, and muscled everything. His appearance spoke more of military training under the intense heat of the sun rather than being cooped up in a research lab.

            After his initial visit, Pete seemed to show up just about everywhere. We couldn’t take a trip downtown without running into Pete. His chiseled jaw and tousled blond locks made unexpected appearances at the mall, the museum, the park, and once we even ran into them at one of David’s football matches.

            It was always a coincidence, a strange coincidence.

            It took less than a year for Peter to solidify himself into our lives, the day he married my mom had been the worst day of my life until last Tuesday, when Pete finally convinced my mother to accept the Center’s invitation and send me packing.

            I had gotten my initial invitation to the “E2 Learning Center for Applied Intelligence” when I was just eight years old after figuring out an equation that lead to the discovery of a more efficient slower-than-light engine.

            Essentially I proved that you could fool gravity.

            It really wasn’t a big deal, but because of me it now only took weeks to travel to the farthest out world rather than a month. Needless to say the government was impressed and immediately issued my invitation, which my father politely declined on my behalf.

            The school must have been taken aback by the rejection, because soon after they began to send representatives to the house to try and entice me into attending.

            I’ll admit, I did like the sound of having my own private lab to work in and access to the best technology available, but I also knew then that the kids who attended the Center grew into adults assigned to top-secret jobs in government agencies with names you didn’t dare speak aloud. Kids who attended the Center rarely, if ever, came home again.

            The invitations and visits suddenly stopped shortly before my father’s death.  At the time it was a relief, but now I think it was a warning.

            My father worked in a lab that created better space ships. His job involved designing new propulsion systems to help whisk the human race to new and exciting locations across our little corner of space.

            He was a dedicated perfectionist, even at home. When putting together a new toy, he would always check things several times to be sure it was safe for David and me, and at work he always made sure the safety systems were engaged several times over before firing up an experimental engine.

            The day he died, the safeties had been disengaged when an experimental engine had an explosive misfire. Somehow, in a lab with 5 other people, he managed to be the only casualty. It just doesn’t add up.

            Since then Pete, who showed up exactly when my mom, still in the throes of a quiet depression, needed him the most, had replaced my dad fully.

            It was just too convenient for my liking.

            So here we sat, the fish staring at me, me glaring at Pete, and Pete enjoying his fish as if I didn’t exist.

----
This is the first part of  my planned YA sci-fi saga.  When I get down to hard editing I expect names of places and things to change, even the title "Jericho" is just a placeholder at the moment, but I expect the bones of the story should stay relatively the same 

So, for now each section will be posted with only basic edits (and some lacking even that) as I continue to write it all out. And to keep track of where in the story we are I will label my posts as such Jericho 01-01, the first set of numbers being the chapter and the second being the part of the chapter. 

I sincerely have no idea how many chapters I will end up having. Sorry.
-KayPee