Date: Sun, 13 Mar 1994 18:17:03 -0500 (EST) From: Brian Willard Subject: A Giant Leap for Mankind - Part Four Message-Id: <01H9XLE0NVJM91W7D0@UNCA.EDU> Organization: University of North Carolina at Asheville A Giant Leap for Mankind by Brian Willard Part Four The Prowell Estate Glendale, Colorado August 4, 2133 2:00 AM "Are you alone or are there others?" asked the security guard. "No, just me," Sam replied, staring at the end of the strange gun that was pointed at him. "You mind telling me what the hell you're doing up here?" "Uh...fishing." "Good try, pal, but this one's up to the boss. Come with me." She pushed a button on her belt and the laser beams zapped off, then she walked over to Sam and put him in handcuffs. ********** Meanwhile, the rest of the Crusaders were still under the bridge, and Olin and Johannes were quarreling over what to do. "Sam said that if something happened to him that I'm in charge, and I say we go up after him," argued Johannes. "Yeah, but you're stupid. We should wait here until he gives us a signal, remember? Besides, if we go up after him and he's been caught, we'll get caught too," replied Olin. "What is it with you big pansy?" shouted Johannes in return, "I'm in charge and I say we go up after him!" "Shut up you twit! They'll hear us!" ********** Sam and the policewoman had walked off of the bridge and over to the small security post nearby. As they were walking, they heard a loud voice yelling from under the bridge, which of course was Johannes. "I thought you said you were alone!" "I am. I don't know who else is here," lied Sam, trying to protect their cover, though it seemed helpless. She hurried him over to the security office and handcuffed him to a stair railing. "We'll find out soon enough. You stay here." "I'm not going anywhere," stated Sam, looking down at his handcuffed wrist. She gave him a stern, disapproving look and then walked off. "Bad sense of humor," Sam muttered, "I'll bet she's wonderful on dates." ********** The security guard walked over to the side of the bridge and proceeded down the ladder. As she descended, she could hear whispers. "Here he comes," said Johannes, "What did you find, Sam?" The guard grabbed her flashlight and shone it their faces. "He found me. You are all under arrest." She pushed another button on her belt, which obviously worked some sort of communication device, because a voice answered. "What is it 51?" said the voice from the belt. "We've got a group of idiots here under the bridge. I think they were planning to raid the estate. I also have another up at the post. I'll deal with him myself." "We'll have a transport down in five minutes. Stay with the group." "Affirmative." She looked over at Johannes, "So, is Sam your leader?" Johannes remained silent. "I asked you a question, mister. IS SAM YOUR LEADER?" "Temporarily," replied Olin, "We're the Crusaders." "You idiot!" screamed Johannes, "You aren't supposed to tell her that!" "What does it matter? We've been arrested anyway." "I should have figured it might be you guys," said the officer, "why do you keep pulling these little stunts? They are getting you nowhere and just make people hate you mutants all the more." "We're not mutants! That's why were doing this; we're no different from anybody else!" yelled the infuriated Johannes. "I beg to differ," replied the guard, hearing the transport truck park on the bridge. "Okay, everybody, up the ladder! One at a time!" She watched as the group of twenty or so renegades climbed the ladder and were helped into the truck. She followed the last one up. When she reached the top, she walked around to the driver's door. "The Crusaders," she said flatly. The driver rolled his eyes. "Not again," he sighed. "I'm afraid so. Where do you think he wants them?" "I didn't want to disturb him at this time of night. I heard he's real bad when he is awakened. I was just going to take them to South City Holder." "Sounds fine, though they'll probably be released in the morning." "Yeah, seems like there's always somebody to bail them out. What about the other?" "Oh, him. He's a smart ass. I'll probably take him down to Johnson and let him have a dose of real discipline. Besides, he can get reacquainted with his leader." "Okay." The police helped the last of the Crusaders into the truck, secured it, and it rolled off the bridge down the road towards town. The female sentinel went back over to the post, where Sam had found a seat on one of the steps. She kicked him as she walked up the stairs to open the door. "What was that for?" Sam queried, rubbing his leg where she kicked him. "For lying to me. I don't appreciate dishonesty. But that was a very brave thing to do. That is very admirable." She opened the door and flipped on the lights. She walked over to a table at one end of the small building and opened a drawer. She shuffled a few things around and produced a set of keys. She then closed the post up again and released Sam from the railing and handcuffed him to her. They began to walk towards the large palace, the home of Grand Territory's President, Cassius Prowell. "So what's life like for you mutants? It can't be all that wonderful, spending half of your time in jail, and the other half hiding." "Well, we get by," snapped Sam, "and I don't appreciate you calling us 'mutants'." "What do you want me to call you...Sam? Okay Sam, why don't you like being called a mutant?" "Would you like being called that, lady?" "No, because I'm not. I also don't like being called lady. You can call me Officer Miller." "Okay, Officer Miller, well we're not mutants either. It's just that your society views us in that way because we're different." "Different? How so? You look normal to me." Sam stopped, and Officer Miller had no choice but to stop also. She glared at him. "We are normal, depending on your definition of the word, normal human beings. We have feelings, just like everyone else, and we live, eat, and breathe just like everyone else. We just don't necessarily think like everyone else, and that's why we're oppressed. Not quite fair, is it?" "All I know is that what he says goes," she replied, pointing at the house and inferring to Prowell. "Now can we continue onward, or do I have to drag you?" Sam began to walk again. He noticed that they had been following the same river that the Crusaders had come down in. If only they had gone on further... "So what do you mean by 'think different'? Is there something wrong with your brains? Actually, that skinny guy from under the bridge seemed pretty out to me." "Out?" "Yeah, you know, out. Weird. Crazy." "Well, Johannes is a bit odd, but when I say we think different, I mean from a perspective on how we view things. For instance, what do you think when you look at the palace there?" "I see...power, authority, confidence, and one really big house. Why, what do you see?" "I see an elegant manor, replicated from eighteenth century French architecture, a time when France was in a constant state of civil unrest, and democracy was something done in ancient Greece. In other words, I think it represents control, the control of a single authoritative figure who oppresses those who do not agree with his philosophies." "Wow, you see all that? Not that I necessarily agree, but I always figured all mutants, sorry Crusaders, were kinda dumb." "Well, there's a lot you don't know about us. Like that we've been battling for our civil rights for the past hundred years." "That long? What for?" "Well, you probably haven't heard a whole lot about this, but back in the late twentieth century a practice known as genetic engineering began, and we were the group who opposed the practice. Anyway, we eventually came to accept it, though we vowed never to follow it. But by the time we finally stopped fighting it, we were outcasts from society. We began to battle again, this time not for an idea, but for our rights, the very rights to which every human should allowed, things like having a job, owning property, running in the government, basic things like that. And for the past hundred years or so, we've had to do without." "Gee, I never thought of it that way. So we're the ones that were wrong, is that what you're trying to say." "No Officer, not..." "You can call me Lisa if you want," she said, smiling for the first time. "Okay, Lisa, not you personally. You probably have been raised to believe that those who conceive children without selecting their characteristics are wrong. But who's to say who's right or wrong? It's okay to believe in something, but to force other people into believing that with you, now that's just plain not right. Oh, why am I bothering to tell you this? You can't do anything about it. Only he can. By the way, where are you taking me?" "Well, after hearing your side, I suppose the right thing to do would be to let you go, but I have orders and if I don't follow them I'll lose my job. So I'm afraid I have to take you to the President's personal cells, which are in the basement." By this time they were almost at the palace, which was larger than Sam had anticipated. They were approaching the back of the building, and when they were about twenty yards away, they stopped on a large metal plate. "Why did we...?" asked Sam. "Shhh." The plate lowered down into the ground quietly, and as they descended, all Sam could see was metal. The plate stopped after they had descended about ten feet. Lisa pushed yet another button on her belt, and a door, flush with the metal walls, slowly opened inward. They walked in and Sam found himself in a long corridor, with metal walls and a grated iron floor under which he could see water and filth. There was no light except for that coming from the end of the corridor. They proceeded toward the light, and when they came to the other end, Sam peered through the doorway. He saw what seemed to be a very twentieth- century small-townish jailroom, with four cells bounded by iron bars. They walked over to the desk where a muscular man with almost no hair was snoozing, legs propped up on the desk. "Johnson," said Lisa, "I've got him." She unlocked the handcuffs and moved Sam in front of the man's desk. "Oh, good," the man said, sitting up in his chair, "Another prisoner." "I'm sorry Sam, but this is as far as I go. Keep fighting for what you believe, and don't give up till it's over." And with that she was gone. Johnson stood up and walked over next to Sam. He looked at him with an evil glare. "Trying to break into the estate, huh? Don't you morons learn anything? Into the cell, bud!" He pushed Sam back into one of the open cells and slammed the iron door shut behind him. Sam fell back into the bed, and hit is head against the concrete wall. Sam got up gingerly, rubbing his head, and looked around his cell. Minus his bed, the toilet, and a sink, it was empty. He turned around and saw a very weak, skinny woman standing in the adjoining cell sit up. She looked over his way and her eyes got wide. "Sam? What are you doing here? Where's the rest of the group?" Sam looked at her strangely for a moment, and then he remembered. "Anna? Oh God, how are you?" "I've seen better days. Is the rest of the group here too?" "No, I last saw them at the bridge." "They've been taken to the city jail," added Johnson with an evil smirk on his face, "But don't worry, you'll never see them again. You two have fun getting reacquainted, but keep it quiet, cause I'll be asleep right over there. And if you wake me up, you're gonna regret it." And he walked off laughing. To be continued... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian Willard | "Revenge is mine, thus sayeth the hologram" UNC-Asheville | Dr. Sam Beckett, _The Leap Back_ bwillard@unca.edu | ---------------------------------------------------------------------------