ONE

This was no game, other than a sick and twisted one.

He had been awoken by the distant chaos - a boy, frightened and alone, stumbling through the dense undergrowth. His tear stained eyes could barely make out what was in front of him, as the smoke slowly engulfed the forest.

A single word echoed in the distance:

“Horncastle!”

Hearing his name, Pirian Horncastle paused briefly, coughing and spluttering as he attempted to catch his breath. Gripped by fear, all he could think about was the raging inferno and the icy hatred in the eyes of those hunting him. Wiping his eyes, he ran on, his hammering heart crying out for more oxygen.

Ancient timbers were devoured by the blazing heat, a faint orange glow lighting the night sky as trees groaned and cracked in the distance. Ahead of the fire his pursuers had started, the deathly grey smoke continued to seep through the once verdant foliage, strangling and suffocating all in its path.

Every creature in the forest surged forward. Wild-eyed hares pelted through the smouldering bracken, mice scurried between scorched roots, and glistening reptiles crawled and slithered over the lifeless bodies of those too slow to outrun the encroaching hell.

“There’s no one here to save you now…not even your own pathetic father!” a voice called.

There was a painful truth to the harsh tone, driving a knife into Pirian’s heart as much as the dying air. This was no longer a place for an eleven year old; even though he had been raised in Greenhouse One, the size of the habitat had now outgrown him; he’d never locate his father without a comlink...if he was here at all.

For once, you should have listened to your parents and never have come back here, he thought to himself in frustration.

Laughter and hollering interrupted his thoughts. They were closer now.

As Pirian and the rest of the creatures raced on, the trees became denser. He was buffeted by larger animals and branches whipped across his face, while small thickets grabbed at his ankles, causing Pirian to trip and fall. Immediately he covered his head, in fear of being trampled. Once the larger animals had passed, he waited and wiped his streaming eyes again. There was a temptation to hide from his pursuers amongst the undergrowth and keep below the smoke.

A targeting laser flashed onto a fallen tree trunk next to him. Pirian followed the red dot as it moved downwards, aligning on his chest.

They were toying with him.

Laughter followed once again as another voice called out, “We’ll promise to make it quick and painless. The same way we’ve put the rest of the Erth scum out of their misery.”

The dot disappeared and Pirian scrabbled forward.

He didn’t move far.

It was the smell of the dead kyber that pulled him to his feet, more so than its bloody remains. Its mouth hung open, revealing broken, canine teeth; clawed legs twisted under the weight of its body, caked in blood. Clutching his mouth, Pirian ran on; lungs aching and burning, stomach churning, his head pounding.

The kyber wasn’t the first slaughtered animal he had come across; there were many littered across the valley. Those which were still alive continued to run with him - they knew as well as he did what ‘quick and painless’ meant.

Cornelius! Pirian prayed his pursuers hadn’t reached his friend. His only friend; one who listened and shared the very same pain he was feeling right now as the fire slowly engulfed the last Greenhouse.

“Where are you going?” a voice shouted.

The voices drew ever closer as he finally broke ahead of the smoke.

Pirian was no runner at the best of times. His body was weak and with no Guild training, he was in poor condition. His legs burned with fatigue as his pace slowed rapidly. Coming up to a steep ravine, his foot caught a vine. There was no floor to catch him this time and he tumbled downwards, crashing through tree canopies as he cartwheeled over and over.

No rocks, please no rocks, he thought.

As he fell, more vines coiled round his body slowing his descent. Finally he rolled out into a clearing. Many of the animals that followed had reached the bottom safely, jumping over him as he lay on the floor in a tangled heap.

Pirian lifted back his hood and pulled away the knotted vines. He then wiped his eyes once again, along with his scratched and grubby face, a mixture of blood, sweat and mud smearing his overcoat sleeve.

Panting, he attempted to catch his breath.

Fresh air.

The smoke hadn’t reached the clearing. It continued to rise high above the canopy’s orange glow, but it was only a matter of time before the fire engulfed everything in its path. A roaring sound filled his ears as the heat steadily increased.

A waterfall tumbled down the left side of the ravine, feeding a small lake. The river was the main source of life within the habitat. It hadn’t been that long since all three of his father’s Greenhouses were as vibrant as this. The lake was one of many scattered throughout its habitat, settling on the outer rim. The cycle washed away the autumn leaves that clung to the banks. It had become a natural ecosystem supplying water to the rain system, helping to prevent any potential fire. But something had been tampered with.

Pirian could make out the breaking of dawn, the approaching fire only emphasising the warm glow.

Butterflies and hummingbirds scattered as most of the animals dived into the water, attempting to reach the opposite side of the lake as quickly as possible.

His pursuers howled.

They were closer than ever and he could barely move.

He had felt the Greenhouse’s pain the moment the fire had begun. As its envirocontrol had malfunctioned, its power over him had grown weaker. The nausea spread, pulling at his insides, his guts twisting, before he finally vomited. His altitude sickness had intensified as an unseen force pulled his body downwards.

Wiping his mouth, he dumped his backpack and opened it. Removing a fashioned stick that resembled a wooden sword, he jabbed it into the ground and fought against the gravity. Finally pulling himself up, he clutched his arm and made his way slowly to the edge of the lake. Amongst the commotion he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a small mark that was beginning to change shape.

Although Pirian wasn’t a strong swimmer, he was still tempted to jump in. Instead, he simply scooped up water with his free hand, soothed his raw throat and splashed the irritated mark.

The undergrowth parted nearby, and a slow moving animal, the size of a large serving tray, made its way towards him. Before the creature stopped in front of him, a long neck extended from its shell
Gradually, the creature edged towards an apple that had fallen from his backpack.

Pirian took one last gulp of water and pulled his marked arm from the lake.

“This...isn’t the time to eat, Cornelius.”

Filled with deep grooves and scratches, a small rock was embedded in the creature’s shell; a mark of the harsh world in which it lived. The act of cruel pleasure had happened when the creature was younger; the shell now having grown around the rock. Munching the apple, the tortoise sniffed the air, the creature’s slow pace at odds with Pirian’s frantic worry about his situation.

Cornelius didn’t keep the food down for long. The fact that he shared Pirian’s sickness only bound them further together. The slow, harmless animal was his only friend. Neither of them relied on the Dosage, and had never felt the need to harm and destroy lives and the work of others. Pirian understood what feelings were, along with every other animal in the habitat. The smoke hung high above. Pirian flinched as he heard another firebomb go off nearby. There was a sound of trampled undergrowth as three silhouettes appeared through the billowing cloud of smoke.

Flames furled upwards with an intense ferocity, eating everything in their path. Pirian’s eyes stayed locked on the figures walking out of the fire.

“Ahhh, there you are,” said the leader of the group, masked and hooded. “Wallowing in the dirt. Anyone would think you were Erth born.”

It was Viktor Jakahn. Although Pirian couldn’t make out his features underneath the hood and gas mask, his tormentor’s eyes were all too clear in his mind; the image of the brutish face and sadistic grin had been beaten into him many times before. Seven years older than Pirian, Viktor took full advantage as he towered over him.

Viktor’s accomplices were of the same build. Newtonians were bred to physical perfection; the slightest defect eradicated. Even A-class females were built for fighting - Loran in particular easily mistaken for any male counterpart. All that distinguished Neel was the gel cast attached to his broken arm.

As they surrounded him, Pirian held out his wooden sword. He steadied himself as best he could, while the fire closed in.

Viktor swaggered up to him, pushing the sword aside with the back of his left hand. He followed through with the back of his right, striking Pirian square across the face and knocking him to the ground.

Shaking his head, Pirian wiped the blood from his nose.

Standing above him, Viktor tapped his temple, his gas mask flipping down to his chest plate.

An all too familiar glow of amber lit his eyes. Zetameen; Newton’s precious Dosage, a controlling drug that had brainwashed society for centuries; turning most into weak, single minded individuals who only knew how to follow the orders of the Hierarchy, Newton’s government. The Dosage helped most people forget their true emotions; but for a few it enhanced their psychopathic nature.

Pirian noticed its effects were also apparent in their posture. They had all clearly taken far more of the Dosage than necessary; Loran and Neel’s shoulders were relaxed, their arms swinging as they lumbered forwards. Pirian almost felt optimistic that their Dosage-induced state may have relaxed them too much to cause any further harm.

But Viktor was in full control as he loomed in, cocking his head. “Why on Erth do you still come here?”

“To try and get away from people like you,” snapped Pirian. He could hear the click and whir of Viktor’s retinal implant. The sadistic piece of work was recording the whole ordeal, more than likely to sell as further entertainment.

“Is that right?” replied Viktor, picking up Pirian’s backpack and pulling out a book. “You know it’s a crime to own one of these,” he sneered, and threw it at his accomplices.

“Hardly matters now.” replied Pirian.

“I guess not. But we can always have you flogged instead.” Viktor looked over his victim’s shoulder at the tortoise. Distracted by the burning smell and the intensity of the surrounding heat, Pirian was still concerned for Cornelius’ safety.

He held up his wooden sword once again as Viktor stared back. Snatching the piece of wood from Pirian’s grasp, he continued to taunt him.

“You know, we could find a much sharper sword to play with,” he said as he snapped the wooden replica over his knee, throwing it into the hungry flames. Looking back at Pirian, he pushed him further to the ground with his foot, clicking his fingers and gesturing towards the tortoise.

Loran and Neel immediately set about stamping on the animal’s shell.

“Knock, knock!” Loran taunted.

Viktor placed more pressure on a struggling Pirian. “Stop it!” he shouted, almost suffocating under Viktor’s weight.

“Keep your mouth shut, Horncastle,” snapped Viktor.

“Dad…” he tried to catch his breath, “Dad will have you all strung up if you harm him.”

“I’m sure he would...” sneered Viktor, “But your Daddy’s not here is he?”

“He’s…he’s here. Just…”

Victor smiled smugly. “If he was here, there is no way we’d have broken in so easily and caused our little fire.”

“No. He…” Pirian began to reply, before thinking of his father’s whereabouts.

Viktor grinned, “I’d have thought the Horncastles would have had a more worthy pet than a decrepit looking tortoise. What good is it?” he paused.

“What good is any animal?”

“What good are you?” shouted Pirian, goaded beyond endurance.
Removing his foot, Viktor grabbed Pirian by the scruff of the neck and lifted him from the ground, “You really are asking for trouble.”

Hanging limply from Viktor’s arm, Pirian wiped his bleeding nose once again. “I’ve never needed to ask for it.”

Viktor grinned with satisfaction, buzzing with zetameen.

“What are you going to do to him?” asked Neel.

Victor released his grip slightly and lowered Pirian, “Nothing...”

“Nothing?” repeated Loran

He sneered over at her and Neel then turned and looked at the tortoise.

“But seeing if a tortoise can fly…that might be fun.”

The fire raged. Viktor grabbed his victim once again, proceeding to drag him around the lake. Loran and Neel followed carrying Cornelius.

Pirian could see the frantic animals in the distance. Viktor removed his plasma gun, the laser sighting training in on a target. The gun recoiled and in the distance another victim fell.

At first it looked as though most of the animals were hiding in the surrounding undergrowth as the flames crept forward. Then, as Pirian was dragged closer, he could make out a distortion, as though his surroundings were bending in the light of the flames.

A further distortion quickly followed, then a flickering.

It was the Greenhouse’s hologram. Projected onto the outer walls, it helped maintain a more natural environment. Usually the technology was impenetrable, but the fire had affected the electrical systems, which was the main reason the water supply hadn’t been triggered to kill the fire.

As Pirian and Cornelius were dragged through the projection, what appeared to be a high cliff face and surrounding trees continued to flicker. As it vanished, the hologram finally revealed a cold geodesic structure of steel and glass walls.

Viktor proceeded to smash a nearby console fastened to the wall, then pulled several safety levers, all the while his free arm still wrapped around Pirian’s neck. A large, heavy door slowly rose and cold air began to rush into the habitat. Several animals pushed their way through. The opening door slowly revealed a maintenance veranda circling the entire structure, where an angled, transparent barrier with inset steps either side led up to a rail system.

Viktor threw Pirian to the ground.

Dawn’s light had taken hold. Transfixed by the expanse of open sky and surrounding clouds, Pirian was reminded further of how high up they were. As the gravity pulled at his guts, he knew all too well how dangerous it was to be on the very outer limits of a flying city.

Chapter I