Albacron 1:
Heart of the One
Mary Amity, author of the Compilation Historica of the Post Magnus Bellum (2755 edition): “For seven hundred years after the Great War, known as the Magnus Bellum, the morbidly wealthy enslaved the few surviving ordinary citizens, whose servitude was worse than the most egregious slavery of ancient times. The Vercundi, as the slaves were derogatorily christened, worked most of the day, seven days a week, and rarely earned enough to sustain themselves. For nearly seven hundred years, their families slept in the worst dilapidated housing and produced more children to serve their morbidly rich masters, the Albacronians, who developed, maintained, and kept the only real technology for themselves—enabling them to rule over the impoverished Vercundi and keep their less fortunate brethren in line.”
Ronald I. Pravus (after his first election): “I may be the only person on the planet who can create a better world for those who deserve it.”
Ronald I. Pravus (on his deathbed): “I have created great things … great things for the Earth’s wealthiest, most deserving class. Let them be the masters for all eternity.”
CHAPTER 1: BEYOND THE PERIMETER
Next to a tranquil body of water, an eighty-foot cliff rose from a narrow, silty beach as a disk-shaped platform sped fifty feet above the shoreline. Two humans stood on the heliocruiser. The one in front, dressed in a silver, skin-tight bodysuit, grasped a golden T-shaped bar connected to the platform. The other stood behind him with her hands on a gray crossbar, her tattered dress flapping in the breeze.
Dipping toward the beach, the cruiser soared left over the water and banked sharply right before climbing toward the cliff top. When an impact seemed imminent, it lurched up and over the rim.
August’s setting sun reflected off the pilot’s gold helmet but burned the woman’s exposed skin. The corners of her lips drew downward, and the wind whipped her dirty, tangled hair.
The treetops shot past beneath them as the heliocruiser gained height. A distant village leaped into view. On approach, many run-down cabins appeared, encircling a group of official-looking buildings in the village square. A hexagonal, six-story mansion dominated the center.
They climbed higher, revealing woods beyond the village to the west. On the right, a single-story textile mill extended three hundred yards. A perimeter fence stretched from either end, surrounding the settlement like a snake encircling its prey. More woods spread north of the mill.
Slowing, the cruiser descended toward the mansion’s courtyard. Six pinnacles towered at regular intervals guarding its perimeter. When the cruiser landed, three gray-helmeted militiamen in yellow, skin-tight bodysuits rushed toward it with batons at the ready.
One of the militiamen pointed his baton at the woman. “Step off the heliocruiser.”
The woman shook her head. “There’s been a mistake. Let me go to my cabin to be with my family.”
“There’s been no mistake,” the pilot said. “I picked you up outside the perimeter fence. You’ll be taken to the Supreme Mayor and receive your punishment.”
“You don’t understand.” She goggled at the three baton-carrying militiamen. “I don’t remember going outside the perimeter.” She pivoted toward the pilot. “I don’t remember being picked up. I only remember flying here. Please. I didn’t mean to—”
“Shut your filthy mouth!” The pilot pointed toward the militiamen. “You’ll go with them … or else!”
“Please, sir. Let me—”
The pilot clutched the woman’s arm and yanked her toward the militiamen. She lost her balance and fell off the cruiser, landing at the militiamen’s feet.
The woman gazed at her captors with pleading eyes. “I didn’t mean to be beyond the perimeter fence. I don’t know how I got there. I—”
One militiaman thrust his baton toward her. She rolled out of the way, sprang to her feet, and bolted. He sprinted after her and jabbed his prodding wand against her back. A flash of sizzling light enveloped her, and she fell to the ground.
They grabbed her arms and dragged the unconscious woman toward the mansion’s entrance.
CHAPTER 2: HOME TO ROOST
A man in his thirties, dressed in a yellow shirt, hunter-green vest, and maroon jacket, sat behind a semicircular desk. A triangular-shaped maroon hat hung from a hook on the wall behind him. One hand gripped a turkey leg while the other hovered over pans and bowls brimming with succulent foods. Twenty feet to his left, a vertical seam formed in the wall and expanded into a rectangular opening. Two militiamen marched through it, pulling the young woman wearing a tattered dress. She struggled to keep up, her tousled hair splaying in every direction. They yanked her toward the desk and forced her to stand opposite the well-dressed man.
The man set down the turkey leg, dabbed his mouth with his maroon cloth napkin, and wiped his hands on it. “Another perimeter violator?”
One militiaman bowed his head. “Yes, Supreme Mayor.”
The mayor stared at the woman. “I know you.” He shook an index finger at her. “Mintaka. You’ve done this before.”
“No, Supreme Mayor. I am not Mintaka. My name is Electra … and I have no idea how I ended up outside the perimeter.”
The mayor tossed his napkin onto the desktop. “This is a new one for me. I’ve never heard that excuse before.” He locked eyes with a militiaman. “You men may leave her with me.”
They stiffened. “Yes, Supreme Mayor,” one said. Executing a smart right face, they marched through the opening, and it closed behind them. Only the lift symbol remained on the wall, a gold rectangle surrounding two back-to-back arrows, one pointing up and one pointing down.
The mayor eyed Electra. “Hungry, Mintaka?”
“My name is Electra. Mintaka was the greatest hero of the Vercundi people.” Her eyes flared. “But she died over three hundred years ago.”
“My, my. I don’t know what you’ve been drinking or inhaling. Consuming hallucinogens is forbidden. You’ve just doubled your crime.” He rose and swept an arm before the bounty spread across his desk. “I repeat. Are you hungry, Mintaka?”
Saliva dripped from Electra’s dangling tongue as she nodded.
“I bet you are.” Picking up his turkey leg, he bit into it. Electra’s midsection growled as the Supreme Mayor swallowed. “You Vercundi would say the rumbling noise in your gut is the sound of your poverty … the poverty we Albacronians know you deserve. Your history proves that.” He set his turkey leg down, retrieved the napkin, and dabbed his mouth again. “When were you here last?”
“I was never here before, Supreme Mayor.” She drew a deep breath, inhaling the scrumptious smells.
He cocked his head, squinted one eye, and shook a finger at her. “No need to lie. I believe you’ve been here twice before.”
She shook her head. “If I was, I do not remember.”
He sauntered around his desk and thrust a hand toward her neck. She jerked her head back. “I won’t hurt you, my dear. I am, if anything, a peaceful man. You should know this from my presiding over the daily ‘Nurturing’ gatherings.”
He grasped a brownish-red, hexagonal crystal hanging from a thin cord around her neck. The lower part terminated in a point, and the cord passed through a ring attached to a silver cap on the upper end. “I see you were awarded the ‘Crystal of Shame.’” His gaze rose to her eyes. “You would have received it after your second violation.” He let it drop back against her skin. “It seems that its very existence contradicts your lies.”
“No, Supreme Mayor.”
“The last time you were here should have kept you from going beyond the perimeter fence again.” He strutted to the chair behind his desk. “And how long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“I am not sure. My people are usually hungry all the time.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s odd.” Sitting, he eased his elbows onto the golden armrests and steepled his fingers. “For several days, you must have drawn high numbers at the daily ‘Nurturings’ for your siblings, poor young Alheena and Bellatrix. And, with the ‘Crystal of Shame,’ you could not accept any food from other Vercundi.” He bounced his fingers off one another several times. “You understand you brought this on yourself by violating the perimeter fence?”
“I remember nothing about what you speak … and my siblings are Chara, Meri Diana, and Deneb.”
He flipped one hand. “You’re clearly delusional. You were caught beyond the perimeter on the beach at the base of the cliffs. Now, how did you get down there? They’re sheer cliffs, nearly a hundred feet high.”
She stretched forward, her eyes on the food. “I have never been down to the Big Sea. I know some of my people have … when starvation forced them to search for living things in the water.”
The mayor shook his head. “The sea is as dead as your dream of the Vercundi people ever being free, and there are no sizable animals outside the perimeter to speak of.”
He lowered his hands and leaned forward. “We provide the food in exchange for your work in the textile mill. You make the clothing the Albacronians need and draw numbers for ‘The Nurturing.’ If your people meet the quotas, everyone who draws a number receives one day’s food ration for their entire family. It’s quite elementary.”
He shrugged, extended an arm, and smiled. “And it’s totally under your control. All directives originate from the capital in Adelphy.” He drew his outstretched hand to his chest. “I simply administer them, Mintaka.”
Electra wiped her dripping tears and sniffed. “I certainly am sorry you think I’m Mintaka, but she made history in our past, and we worship her for that. Now, please … may I go home to my family?”
He folded his arms. “So, Mintaka, what year do you think this is?”
“Twenty-seven thirty.”
The Supreme Mayor slapped his hands on the table. “What?” He leaned back in his chair. “You have really lost it, girl. Do you think this lie will vindicate you? This is the year twenty-four twenty-six.” He folded his arms again. “Where are your parents?”
“My mother is dead … and my father disappeared when I was a little girl.”
“You look about eighteen.”
“Seventeen. I will turn eighteen later this month.”
His eyebrows peaked. “Your father wandered off, I believe … perhaps beyond the perimeter.” He shrugged and swept his hands outward, leaving them hovering. “Who knows what happened to him?”
Electra clenched her fists. “On the way home from the textile mill, he simply disappeared.”
Lowering his arms, he gawked at her. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there were eyewitnesses. He was standing next to a friend’s cabin one second, and the next, he was gone.”
He laughed. “Disappeared into the crowd, maybe. After that ….” He glared into her eyes. “Who knows?”
She grasped the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “Yes, but I know what I ….” She followed his gaze to her hands, yanked them back, and stood erect. “Yes, Supreme Mayor. It must be as you say.”
He smiled contemptuously and cocked his head. “I’m so glad you agree.” He rose and adjusted his maroon tie. “I think you have had enough bad luck.” He pointed at the desktop. “Have something to eat.”
Her eyes met his, and she waited.
He swept his hand toward the food. “Go ahead.”
Electra bent forward, grabbed a handful of breaded fish, and crammed it into her mouth.
The mayor laughed. “Yes. Eat up. Then we’re sending you home, but not because I believe your lies.”
She rotated her head toward him. “Thank you, Supreme Mayor!” Bits of food dribbled from her mouth as she returned to her feast. Breaking off the end of a golden-crusted loaf of bread, she dipped it into a creamy sauce and jammed it into her mouth.
The mayor chuckled, moved to the left corner of his desk, and pressed a button. Minutes later, the wall opening reappeared. Two militiamen marched in and snapped to attention.
“See to it this one returns home to roost. She will be the first.” The Supreme Mayor’s eyes flared as he rotated toward her and smiled. “One day, you may be remembered for this.”
Electra swallowed and crammed more food into her mouth.
“To roost, Supreme Mayor?” a militiamen said.
“To roost.”
The militiamen stepped to her sides, and each secured an arm.
The Supreme Mayor pointed to a second arrow symbol on the wall to his right. “You may use my private lift. It is a more direct route.”
They escorted her toward the other lift, and one placed a hand over the down arrow. Part of the wall slid to the left.
The mayor lifted one hand and wiggled his fingers. “Say hello to Bellatrix and Alheena for me.”
Still chewing, Electra jerked her head around and tried to speak, but the militiamen pulled her into the lift. The opening closed behind them, and the little room jiggled as it moved downward. It stopped, and part of the opposite wall slid left into itself. They exited and marched her down the passageway to their right, stopping before a smooth white wall.
Electra pulled back. “Wait. This isn’t the first floor.”
One militiaman yanked her forward and pushed a protruding knob, causing a door-shaped seam to form around it. He shoved the knob to the left, and the door slid open. “Wait in this room first. We must get clearance papers to let you go home.”
“Uh … It doesn’t seem like a good idea. Can’t we just go to the first floor?”
The other militiaman shoved her into the tiny, windowless room.
Electra stumbled toward a chair next to a round table, spun, and watched the door close. An unblemished white wall remained.
Outside, one militiaman swiped a hand over the center of the door at head height, and a window appeared. They stared through it.
Electra sat and gawked at the militiamen. One of them extended an arm toward his right as though reaching for the knob again. She waited, expecting the window to disappear. A bright orange light filled the room, and she shielded her eyes with her arms. The glow seemed to emanate from everywhere.
“No!” she screamed. “This isn’t right!” She bolted to the window and pounded on it. “Let me out! You have the wrong woman! I’m not Mintaka!”
The militiamen greeted her pleas with grins.
“Stop it! Please stop it!” As her body warmed, she panted and tugged at her collar. The temperature rose to an intolerable level, she screamed and collapsed.
Outside, the militiamen watched as Electra’s clothing singed brown, then ash-gray before bursting into flames. The orange color of the room changed to red as her body exploded. Ash debris plumed into the air, pulsating between orange and black. It drifted over the remaining flames before settling like a black and gray snowfall.
One militiaman twisted the knob, triggering a sucking sound. After watching the flames extinguish and the smoke and ash race into the walls, he smacked his companion’s shoulder. “Well, she’s the first.”
The other nodded. “Home to roost.”
The first militiaman giggled. “More like home to roast.” They laughed as he swiped his hand across the window. The opaque whiteness of the door replaced it.
The other pulled the knob, and the door perimeter vanished. They spun and marched away.
END OF SAMPLE
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