Chapter Two

Chapter 2
Now there's one

A thunderous crash shook the building as I dove under the checkout desk. A last standing shelf crashed through the computer next to me, narrowly missing my left hand. At long last the rumbling stopped and I crawled out from the desk.
My foot kicked a copy of Where the Red Fern Grows across the floor. I picked it up and mournfully stuck in my pack.
I climbed up onto the destroyed remains of the massive skylight array. Mt. Rainier smoked in the distance. A flicker of light caught my eye before all went black.

"Terrawiping complete, sir," Officer 1753 announced. Terrawiping is a simplistic procedure, effectively destroying all trace of the former environment, by causing all natural disasters, including eruptions, storms and meteor showers, preparing it for the terraforming, which preps the planet for Chernobl inhabitation.


Waking from unconsciousness is not like waking up in the morning. No way. My body heaved, trying to throw up, but finding an absence of food, began only dry heaves. That awoke my hunger. I stood up, looking around the devastated landscape. A flickering 7 stuck out of a debris pile. I set off in the direction of that 7.

***

"Movement detected, sir."
"Its probably just a missed animal. Ignore it."

Coughing and stumbling toward the 7, I tripped on a messed-up bumper. I kicked the dirt out from around it, pulling up the license plate, THX 138. A ripped yellow plate; I considered it for a moment, before sticking it in my pack too. Slowly but surely, the 7 grew larger. Finally reaching it, I kicked the dirt around around the base. Dropping my pack, I bent down to dig it up.
***
Many rests and coughing fits later, I uncovered the base of the 7-ELEVEN neon sign. Those things are heavier than you'd think. Checking my busted watch, the time was either 6, 5, 9 or 8 PM. Looking at the sky, 5 seemed a little more likely. I pulled the busted sign up, slipping it over the hole as sort of a lean-to. I dropped into the hole feet first, landing heavily in front of a glass door. I rattled the knob, but no luck. Dang. I reached up for my bag, but couldn't find it. Sighing, I pulled myself up, grabbing my bag, and pulling it down again. Swinging the heavy bag about, I crashed it through the door. The safety glass 'kibbled' and I stepped easily through.
Maybe I'm not supposed to break into a 7-ELEVEN, but there was no one around, and Rainier had blown, so I figured no one would care or know.
I grabbed one of those processed cookies of a shelf, and stuffed it wrapper and all into my mouth. Then I spit it out. I unwrapped it and stuck it into my mouth. Processed food never tasted better.
I began exploring. The bathroom was locked, to my disappointment, but I found the key under the counter
***
After doing my unprintable section of this…adventure, I came out again and began making a bed-thing in the corner. Crushed cigarette boxes more like it. I threw out the cigarettes first, though. After rummaging through the stock room, I pulled out a couple of emergency blankets, unwrapping them and throwing them on the boxes.
Before crashing, I pulled myself out of the store, glancing at the sky to get a feel for the star spangled sky. Instead of a beautiful sky, neon bolts stuck back and forth, and shooting stars fell randomly. Then I crashed.

"Commodore!" Tactical Officer 105 shouted, "We're under fire!"
"What?"
"Commodore!" Tactical Officer 105 shouted, "We're under fire!"
"I heard you the first time, 105," said Commodore 73. "Raise shield, go to red alert." Commodore 73 pressed an intercom button, opening a channel to the whole ship. "Attention passengers and crew, we have come under fire. I repeat, we are under fire. Please retreat to you stations. Abort all non-essential operations. Repeat, abort all non-essential operations." Commodore 73 closed the channel.
"Hail them, Tactical Officer," ordered Commodore 73.
"Channel open."
"Unknown vessel, why have you fired on us? We are an emissary of the Chernobl Empire-" Commodore 73 began, but was cut off mid-sentence.
"We know who you are," announced the opposing captain, "We are the Environmentalist group known as the Orions. Please abort your terraforming procedures, or we will open fire."
"Do as you wish, we have been ordered by the highest authority to wipe 10532X. 10532B, now. Close channel, Mr. 105." The channel closed on command.

I woke up the next morning, woozily coming too. The sun was smoldering behind an ash cloud produced by Rainier and the rest of the Ring of Fire. I pulled my self out of...I stood up. I walked back into the 7-ELEVEN. I ate a breakfast of melted Slurpee, a granola bar and a pear, and one of those teeny chocolate things that are supposed to be rocket ships.


Commodore 73 was pacing in his ready room, eating chocolate. The stuff was pure gold to Chernobls. The Lord and the other ship, the Savior were at a standoff. The Savior would have no chance versus the Lord, but the Lord couldn't risk any damage to any terraforming equipment, so couldn't engage. It he was waiting for orders to come through. It was a national holiday, and as such the comm lanes were clogged, and it was taking forever to reach Command.

When I woke up, I decided to explore. I had no idea of distance, except that the skylights were the size of a fifty cent piece. I could work it out on my G1, but no point in wasting the batteries. From my general knowledge of the area, I would guess four to five blocks away.
Wandering off in the opposite direction of the skylights, I entered a neighborhood.  Most of the lights were still on, except one. I walked toward that house. The door was locked, and there was no car in the driveway.
Make your own assumptions.
I shrugged and put my foot through the glass door. This glass didn't kibble. I tenderly pulled my foot out, careful not to cut myself.
My trust pack was still resting on my shoulder, and I put my hand in it, like a dog poo bag, and pulled out the cut glass with my pseudo-glove. The remaining hole was about two and half feet tall, and a regular diamond. I stepped in, looking around the darkend foyer, the stair case stretching out before me, a living room to my left, an a kitchen to my right. There was a scratching from the kitchen and I swiveled around, moments before a large, damp mess of hair hit my in the face, knocking me to the ground.

Two motionless ships floated above the United States, at a standoff.
"Commodore!" a Communications Lieutenant came running in, sent by Comm Officer 2. The ship had been reduced to runners, radio communications shut down by the standoff between the Lord  and the Savior.
"Commodore!" the lieutenant said again. "Officer 2 is requesting permission to send for backup." The commodore considered for a second. "Granted. I want the Pegasus. They will remain under cloak until I say other wise. We'll distract the Savior. Send the message." The lieutenant hovered for a moment.
"Go!"