Alutia Rising, Anniversary Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 1) (11 page)

Unrelenting pressure, feeling of a thousand
pounds of bricks pushing down over every centimeter of his body,
pinned him to the floor. He tried to stand, but was barely able to
rise a millimeter, the pressure just too strong. Breathing became
difficult, his breaths getting shorter and shorter, his lungs
compressing further every time he exhaled. In desperation, he
pushed his hand forward, and to his surprise, found that he could
easily slide across the smooth floor.

As he desperately pulled himself forward,
towards the platforms edge, he deduced what he'd done wrong.
There must be a rule about how far ahead of a platform a piece
can be placed
, he cursed his stupidity. That limited his
choices. He would have to save his own platform along with three
others. The idea sickened him, and he knew his nightmares would
never allow him to sleep again, but it was his only option. Except,
before he could even think to accomplish that, he had to think of a
way to escape the pressure and remove the offending piece before he
was suffocated.

Trent continued sliding away from the table,
hoping the pressure may lessen the farther away he moved. To his
relief, his hand broke free first, reaching an area of normal
pressure by the platforms edge. He continued pulling himself
forward until he could once again stand freely.

He walked around the edge of the platform,
catching his breath while rubbing his chin in thought. At short
intervals he would push his free hand into the overwhelming
pressure, and feel an apparent slap appear out of midair, knocking
his hand painfully downwards.

There has to be a way back to the
table
, he knew, the voice wouldn’t have told him to remove the
piece if it had been a fatal error.

In frustration, he punched at the invisible
pressure, and to his surprise, he didn't feel anything. But the
moment his arm stopped moving, the sensation of a slap returned,
forcefully pushing his arm down. His surprise quickly faded as he
tested this newfound knowledge, throwing his arm into the pressure
and removing it just as fast.

Nothing,
he felt nothing and quickly
deduced what he had to do.

Trent moved to the absolute edge of the
platform, ignoring the searing flames that bit at his heels. He
would need as much speed and momentum as he could muster, since he
wasn't positive about how long the pressure would ignore his moving
body...but he was about find out.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged straight
towards the table. He didn't feel anything as he sprinted the few
meters separating him from his goal. But as he slowed, preparing to
remove the offending piece he placed earlier, the pressure
returned, like an enormous slap on his back, causing him to slump.
He used his last remaining strength to keep from falling across the
table. Desperately, he reached for pathway seven, yanking free the
offending piece that had not been properly integrated.

“Penalty level five removed. Penalty level
two will now be assessed.” Trent's sigh of relief was short lived
as he realized what penalty level two meant. The platforms started
accelerating.

Without thinking, Trent quickly placed two
pieces in gaps where the platforms were about to fall into the pits
of fire. He was about to do the same with two more, that were not
in immediate danger, when he noticed something so obvious that he
couldn't believe he missed it until now.

The destination sign hovering at the far end
of the table was only over the center track, while the other tracks
came to an abrupt end about two piece lengths, or 14 centimeters,
short of the end. Trent's brain again started working full tilt,
having forgotten the cold and pain caused by the previous penalty.
His eyes went wide...
that’s it
, his mind cried...he having
finally figured out the solution, letting escape a grunt of
joy.

Each zigzagging track came within one piece
length of the adjacent tracks in multiple locations. This would
allow him to manipulate the tracks to allow all the platforms to
converge on track five and proceed to the goal. He could barely
contain his jubilation as he realized he'd solved the puzzle, and
quickly began his preparations.

First, he placed a piece across pathway one
to pathway two, holding his breath with anticipation. The piece
clicked, “path integration complete, path one will now follow path
two. Speed phase two entered,” the monotone words that followed
filling Trent with joy...then short lived relief. The platforms on
tracks one and two began to pick up speed. So he continued on,
bringing pathway ten into nine, while filling gaps in pathway two,
four, five, and seven. Pathway two was quickly integrated into
pathway three, while pathway nine was connected to pathway eight.
Trent almost missed a gap in pathway six, but saved the platform
with mere seconds to spare; trying to ignore the horrible screams
of terror rising from the women and children huddled on its
surface. Integration of pathway three and four were successful,
while he barely filled a gap on his own pathway in time, flinching
at the sight of the giant hand coming within a meter of striking
the platform.

The platforms continued to accelerate, barely
providing him 10 seconds to decide his next move. He brought
pathway eight into seven, filling a gap in pathway seven, then
quickly integrating pathway seven into six within a matter of
seconds. He filled gaps in pathway five and four, then connected
pathway four into five.

The platforms with the women and children
were moving much faster than his, shown by the fact that his
platform was only half-way to the end of the table, and the
recently integrated platforms were almost three-fourths. Again,
without thinking, Trent continued to place pieces in the gaps,
saving the near plunge of the platforms on track six, while placing
two more pieces on track five, one to save himself and the other,
the platforms far ahead.

Before he knew it, he was almost finished,
only four gaps remaining, two in front of him, one in front of the
goal and one to integrate pathway six into five. He was about to
shout for joy when he glanced down into his hand and found only
three pieces remaining.

The choice was clear, his decision having
already been made. But he still hesitated.

He would do what he planned to do from the
beginning, sacrificing himself to save the others. But now the
thought felt more permanent, since he believed, since he discovered
the solution, that he would be able to save everyone...including
himself.

It would be so simple to place the three
pieces on track five
,
wouldn’t it?
His mind explained,
thereby saving himself and the four other platforms that now
traversed its surface.

He placed a piece at the end of track five,
guaranteeing the safety of at least four of the platforms, then
placed another piece in front of his own, delaying the inevitable.
As he placed the piece, he found himself sinking into his thoughts,
thinking about his horrible past and lost future, and became
careless.

When he pulled his hand away, he accidently
bumped his platforms, knocking himself to the floor, his head
smashing on its unforgiving surface.

“Program violation three. You shall now be
assessed penalty level three,” the monotone voice laid down its
judgment, barely audible to the now semi-conscious Trent.

The world spun before him, making it
impossible to stand, muddling his racing thoughts. Taking a deep
breath, he rolled himself into a sitting position and felt the side
of his head.

Red; the warm, sticky fluid that covered his
hand told him what he already knew, that he hit his head, and
hard.

He started crawling back towards the table,
dizziness and fatigue overwhelming him as he gripped the last piece
of the puzzle in his right hand with all his strength. His mind
screamed that he was running out of time and he had to place the
last piece, he had to save the final five platforms.

Reaching the table, he pulled himself to his
feet, completely out of breath and unable to catch it, like the
oxygen was being pumped from the room. His vision swam, and started
to blur as he looked at the track, trying desperately to locate the
gap for the last piece. Finding it, he lunged forward, ignoring the
alarms and the quaking caused by his body falling across the table.
He threw the piece in a desperate attempt to save the platforms,
save those innocents trapped within this most deadly of game. A
faded click was muffled by the rushing water in his ears and he
thought he heard the monotone voice say something about
success.

But that no longer mattered.

The last ounce of strength fled him and he
slid to the floor, landing on his side with his gaze facing his
approaching end. He watched, his vision fading, as the flames
lashed at his platform’s edge, hissing greedily at the meal to
come.

His last thoughts as he tumbled over the
precipice were of fear and relief. Fear of his imminent death, and
relief that he was able to save them all.

Live on and do great things,
he let
his last thought fly to the distant platforms as the final darkness
overtook him.

Unbelievable, why would he sacrifice
himself?
Daniel wondered from his place within the lobby
outside the programmable matter training room, waiting patiently
for phase three of Trent's recruitment trial to conclude.

Daniel, like all other TSB officer recruits,
faced a similar command test during their placement examines for
the TSB Officer Training School. He had done well, saving himself
and five of the platforms carrying the robotic civilians. But Trent
had performed the ultimate self-sacrifice, giving up his own life
to save the lives of all the robotic civilians.

No matter how hard he tried, Daniel couldn't
accept or understand it; the mere idea of sacrificing his life for
a few no name strangers a concept beyond foreign, a concept that
was just plainly wrong.

The projection faded, being sucked back into
the ceiling PDU as the last transport carrying the robotic
civilians vanished to be disintegrated back into liquid
programmable matter. He peeked towards Knight Captain Quinn,
current commander of the Terra Space Battalion, hoping to glimpse
how the large, grey bearded man, would react to the self-sacrifice.
But his expression, like always, was iron, hiding all emotions.

Now that phase three had completed, it was
time to move onto the final interview phase of the recruitment
trial. Responsibility for interviewing new recruits always fell to
the current TSB Commander, Knight Captain Quinn, the current TSB
Vice-Commander, Commander Daiyu, and the current NHA Liaison to the
TSB, Sir Simwa.

The two highest ranking officers, and what
most TSB officers referred to as plainly,
the spy
, were an
interesting bunch. Knight Captain Quinn stood close to 211
centimeters tall and was pure muscle and could easily have been
mistaken for a mountain. His age was unknown, at least to Daniel,
but he'd been commander of the TSB for the last 30 years, the
images of him from that time revealing he hadn’t aged a day.

He was an NHA noble, which was why he had the
prefix knight before his rank, though nobody knew exactly why he
would choose a position within the TSB over the more respectable
NHA fleet positions. There were many rumors about his past,
however, though few facts, most speaking of Sir Quinn having been
disgraced in some faraway court, banished to babysit the backwards
world of Earth.

Standing in complete contradiction to the
towering TSB Commander, was the TSB Vice-Commander, Commander
Daiyu. She was easily the shortest woman within the entire TSB, or
so Daniel thought, standing a mere 152 centimeters tall, with short
cropped black hair and a hawk like face. She appeared no older than
18, but Daniel knew better then to rely on looks, since the NHA’s
aging gene modifications and advanced medical science could keep
people looking young for hundreds of years.

Standing apart from the pair of TSB
officers
was the NHA liaison to the TSB,
Sir Simwa, covering a yawn and looking beyond bored. He was of
average height and noble perfect looks, having no distinct features
that Daniel could discern, besides a few cosmetic white locks in
his bowl shaped, wavy brown hair.

From the information Daniel’s cronies had
provided, Sir Simwa was the second son of the local earl that would
have been in possession of the Earth star system had it not been
made into a special protectorate by an NHA Emperor, about 5600
years earlier, and later handed over to the Hulk’Zif Duchy to
oversee.

The door to the training room slid open.
Daniel followed the two TSB commanding officers and the NHA Liaison
in, he only being allowed to participate since he was the
recruitment observer on duty for the first two phases of the
trial.

The training room had again been modified by
the Program in charge of recruitment, this time into a large,
cavernous interrogation room, with a restraining chair in the
center, sitting upon a circular dais, surrounded by four sets of
tables and chairs, one on each side. Seated in the center chair was
the unconscious Trent, being treated by the robotic Samantha, yet
to be disintegrated by the Program in charge of recruitment.

Getting a close-up look at her for the first
time, Daniel couldn’t help but lick his lips as he considered
asking the Program to allow the robotic representation to come back
to his room before it was disintegrated. It may be amusing to have
some scans to hold over Trent for the future, when he was added to
Daniel’s followers.

He smirked at the thought, taking his seat
behind Trent, crossing his legs as he glanced to the TSB Commander
who sat across from him, and prepared for what he knew, would be an
interesting interrogation.