Dreams Importance 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Under a year after Episode IV – A New Hope The darkness was oppressive,
surrounding the man like a shroud of nightmares. It seemed to cling to his body, smearing
his dark leather coat with its inky substance. He strained his neck upwards to
catch the small amount of light coming in from the outside. The cool rain hammered against
the holed metal roof, sounding like a thousand stones being scattered over the shed. He
let the water splash down into his face. He exited the shed with his pistol preceding him. The sight of the weapon swept the surrounding derelict buildings like a small blood-red searchlight. Its target beam was visible against the misty damp air. The man covered the buildings across the debris-wrecked street before venturing out. The grin on his face was almost
maniacal. His dirty trousers, tucked into ripped pilot’s boots, and his thin shirt
under his thigh-length leather coat were awash with mud and flecks of blood. None of the
blood was his. He stepped over the wreck of an
overturned speeder bike, careful not to touch any of the twisted metal. He didn’t
know if his quarry had booby-trapped any of the area; he wasn’t taking any chances. He was halfway across the street
when the intensity of the rain increased. It came down so hard he had to place a gloved
hand over his brow as a makeshift visor. He looked at the skeletal constructs that used to
be skyscrapers and trembled as they loomed over him, almost appearing to be ready to
topple over. “Where am I?” he screamed, his mouth filling with the cold water as it poured from the sky. His grin had evaporated to be replaced by an expression of despair. His weapon was limp in his hand, the sight making a shining red dot on his right boot. The hand had gone from the brow; the water washed his face of grime and blood.
“Where am I?” he screamed
again, his voice breaking as he howled his rage to the sky. There was no sky to be seen.
Just the tower blocks, disappearing into the darkness. The rain began to recede. The noise began to die down; huge
amounts of running water slowly changed to small trickles. Dripping moisture against
overturned sheets of metal turned into a regular and irregular beats. The sound of breaking glass. He spun, crouched down slightly at
the knees, his weapon up and ready as he settled the sight on the nearest building. The
sound of breaking glass echoed through the empty building, a low but still huge warehouse
of some kind. He remained motionless, the targeter locked onto the main door which
appeared to be hanging off it’s hydraulic rails. His eyes, blinking constantly to rid
them of moisture, tried to focus on the building but his vision kept blurring. He was
tired, hungry. This had to end soon. He watched the building for a long
time, until he started to straighten again. He peered into the darkness, the weapon still
trained.
“Is that me?” he whispered to the building and awaited an answer. None was forthcoming.
“Am I in there?” he whispered again. He was afraid to move. Slowly, his legs began to shift.
One by one is legs moved, one foot in front of the other, one step followed by another.
His weapon was still trained on the building. He was sure his quarry was inside
the construct. He could feel the wet hairs on his neck stiffening. His mouth went dry. His
back ached terribly from the cold and the damp. The door came closer as he edged
forward. His finger was tight against the trigger, the sense of danger increasing as he
placed a foot against the blocked opening and gave it a gentle shove. Although broken and
bent, it still slid on it’s rusted, split rails. He dived in, hitting the floor
shoulder first and rolling. As the door swung back into it’s position with a creak he
came out of the roll on one knee, his weapon pointed directly down the corridor. There was
no attack. No blaster shot. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to calm his terror
of the dark. The corridor was strewn with
wrecked items. The wheel on an overturned cargo hauler turned slowly, squeaking as it
rotated. He levelled the weapon on the wheel, the red dot that preceded the blaster bolt
wavering uncertainly on the spokes. Somebody must have turned it.
Somebody must have nudged it to send it into its decreasing spin. He frowned and his gaze
swept the corridor. At the far end was another open
door, leading to a flight of steps going up. He slowly stood and moved forward again, his
fear of the dark overpowered by the fear of facing his adversary. With one hand he stopped the
squeaking of the wheel. The lack of sound made the blood pumping through his ears more
prominent. He breathed deeply again, trying to force calm into his bones. After a few
seconds of forced relaxation he stepped through the far portal. The stairs wound upwards spirally,
increasing amounts of moisture from the growing rain outside dripping from the great
height above him and down into small puddles at his feet. His damp hair clung to his
forehead and his cheeks, causing him to wipe the offending strands away angrily. He lifted
the weapon, pointing the beam upwards and scanning the banisters around the steps. He wished for a searchlight. A
torch. Any kind of illumination to rid him of the clinging blackness. This was what he
feared the most. As he stepped forward his leg
brushed a half-broken mirror leaning against the wall. It was a tall mirror, as high as he
was, and it toppled forward to smash noisily against the floor. Small shards of reflective
surface scattered around like the so much discarded rubbish it was. He froze. The sound echoed up the
stairwell and obviously out to the street where the rain had increased. Then he saw the
shadow. The movement alarmed him. So much
he fired a shot upwards. The pistol reported once, the energy bolt travelling wildly to
where he thought he had seen the shadow. It tore into the banister and splintered it
violently, sending smoke and small slivers of metal flying in all directions. He panicked
at his reflex and dived for the safety of the first few steps under the protective cover
of other stairs above. Quickly he moved forward. He took
one step after another until he had covered the first three storeys, weapon ready. He
looked intently at each step, hoping to see any sign of anyone else’s passage up the
stairs, but moisture and debris obscured any possible indications. He stopped. He thought he could
hear something below, as if someone outside was shouting. The noise was muffled and
distant, obscured by the falling rain outside. He pressed himself against the wall and
listened. Nothing. Just the falling rain. He
remained like that for what seemed like an eternity, head cocked to catch any sound
drifting from above or below. When he was satisfied he could move he shifted forward. The sound of breaking glass below
stopped him on his ascent. As he edged to the banister to look down, he saw a thin red
beam shine up from below, scanning the stairs and the adjacent walls. How the hell did I get behind me? He thought, startled. He moved
forward, hoping to get as much distance between him and himself as he could. There was the sound of a blaster
shot and the banister next to him erupted. Smoke and splinters sprayed his face and he
ran. He could taste blood on his lips and there was pain in his cheek. No time to think. Just run. Footfalls as soft as possible. Pain in the face. Don’t think. Move. More safety the higher I go. One step after another. Get distance between you and the gun below. Don’t think. Just run. Get away. It would not do to die today. The figure in front of him had just
pushed another figure out of the window at the top of the stairs, the unfortunate victim
squealing once and disappearing He almost slid into him as the darkly-dressed man spun and
scrabbled for a weapon he had dropped on the ground. With a deft kick to the midsection,
he sent the apparition falling to the floor. The man looked up at him, eyes
wild, hair damp and matted, face covered in grime and blood. One cheek was cut, with blood
cascading down his face as he regarded the man with a cold gaze. He smiled as if expecting
him. The man dropped his weapon in shock. The targeting beam criss-crossed the room as it
tumbled. They were the same, these two men.
Dressed the same, the same face, the same eyes, the same maniacal features that twitched
with every sound and every sensation.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice wavering, hands shaking.
“I’m you,” he replied, voice hard, hands steady.
“But I have to kill you,” he said, eyes twitching, head spinning.
“I know,” he said, arms flexing, legs heaving as he leapt at him. He
bought his hands up reflexively; somehow managing to grab the man’s collar and
heaving him back. The man staggered back without trying to stop his trajectory towards the
window. He disappeared through the broken glass and was gone with a single squeal. He stood, hearing some distance
behind him a single blaster shot that he ignored. I understand, he thought, and turned to face
himself as he almost slid into him. I know I have to
stop myself. I know what I have to do. But every time I try I die. Newell Arrithat sat up in bed and
wiped his eyes. The dream had come again, as expected. Every time he was about to do
something dangerous the dream would be there. Chasing himself. Chasing his own death. I’m sure some psych guy can tell
me what it means,
he thought. The buzzer on his cabin sounded for
attention.
“Newell?” came the tinny voice
from the speaker.
“Yes, Ryath.” He climbed from the bunk.
“We’re about to make Janos
planetfall. You ready?” He stood and looked at himself in
the room’s small mirror over the washbasin. He let out a deep sigh.
“Are you?” he said to the reflection.
Dreams Importance 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Under one year after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Set directly prior to the events of
the Bad Religion story and RPG scenario, this shows the inner workings of the mind of Newell Arrithat, famed
gunman and sharpshooter. Set aboard Goah Galletti’s
starship the Shadow of the Phoenix, this is a part of a sequence of stories that show the
harsh life and social structure on Janos – and why so many fear travelling there.
Cast of Characters Newell Arrithat Ryath Centaur
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