Status: Discontinued [2018]

Dust of a Star

Chapter One: The Slums

I couldn't believe the luck I was having. Two shipments of silver were running through, lightly guarded. I was suspicious, but it was too good to pass up. That money would pay for everything for years. My father could get the medical attention he needed. He could have the medicine whenever he needed it unlike now where it was whenever I could steal it. If I could pull this off, we could be set for the rest of his days.

“Don't screw this up,” I muttered, walking down the parallel street, dipping in and out of the shadows. I didn't have to take it all. I didn't. But it was tempting. The thatched houses made from scraps hid me from the guards' view. They had their eyes on the ones on their street. Their erubescent gazes searched the road ahead, but never expected someone from behind. It was at a turn that I took my chance.

They turned, the two floating trucks to the right, heading towards the port. I ran through the houses and came up behind the last truck—a V28 hydrogen fueled one. I kicked one guard unconscious and then knocked the other one down. As he was dazed against the dirt, I took my knife to the panel and cut the wires to open the back. The black doors hissed open and a smile appeared on my lips. There was case after case lining the walls. I jumped in and took three. The most I needed now.

Jumping back out, I came face to face with two photon guns at my head. “Drop the cases,” came a muffled and slightly electronic voice. I almost tried to do something stupid when something or rather someone jumped me from behind. “You're under arrest, ma'am. For stealing from the High Council, the punishment will be decided after a trial.” I heard all of this before. This was my last strike. I was done for. I screwed up.

Anger and frustration bubbled up inside me, burning in the back of my throat. I screwed up the chance to save my father and my self from hard times. Now he would die alone and in pain. And all because I had to risk it. I knew it was too good to be true.

“You have the right to counsel. I suggest you take it.” Cuffs, red in color, appeared around my wrists as they pulled me up. The man holding me spoke quickly with his friends, in a language I couldn't hope to understand. It was trills and wisps of words ran together in an oddly pleasing tone.

They took me away, pulling whenever I didn't move fast enough for their liking. I stumbled a few times over the holes in the ground and rocks that littered the road. The guards wearing black and red suits of armor did nothing to help me when I tripped onto my face. Groaning, I pushed myself up and brushed the small pebbles sticking to my dirty clothes off. My eyes glanced at the guards on either side of me. They had silver plates on their shoulders and around their waist. Everything else was black with red running like veins between the plating. They wore full face helmets knowing from experience that some people do throw nasty stuff at any part of the body, including the face. The tinted glass told me I wasn't to know whom my personal guards were. That only meant this wasn't for me. They wanted someone else, but instead they got me.

Or maybe they thought I was...whomever they thought I was. Which didn't bode well for me.

They shoved me in an Enforcement vehicle, having me sit in the back, shifting to make myself more comfortable. A guard sat back with me, holding a gun on me at all times. Like I would do anything now. I had already ruined everything, why make it worse? And lose all hope of helping my father.

The guards started talking again. They switched between my language and their own. I didn't really care to listen. I was too busy moping and berating myself for my stupidity. “High Councilor Tak'aln wishes to speak with her when we arrive.”

High Councilor Tak'aln? Every person on Era knew of him. He was the Eltherâk that issued the harshest punishment. He had a serial arsonist locked up for ten years and then sent to a labor camp to rehabilitate him. The labor camp was relatively new. Ever since there was a change in the Council and leader—Hunsal in their tongue—things changed. It wasn't drastic by any stretch of the imagination, but only the people in the slums really noticed at all. Because they were on the receiving end of it.

“Better put an extra guard on her. He will be waiting once we reach our destination.” I figured that they were only speaking in English to try and scare me. It was working, but I have slowly let my mind go. I was trying to accept that I wasn't going to get out of this nor was I going to survive, probably. I stared down at my black slacks littered with holes and restitched seams and hems. There was dirt stained the fabric. But that didn't matter now. I was going to die in approximately three hours. That was how long it would take to get there and finish a trial. I was doomed. Doomed to a fate that I couldn't ever hope to escape.

The car—model V30 Quirk—pulled to as stop outside a large building. It was three stories and it sprawled for a block. It was the security central of the Enforcement Team. Personal guards to officers of the law. Even councilors were in this building. It had a blue entrance, scanning everyone that went through it for weapons or anything potentially dangerous. There were small round balls made of light metal bobbing around. They were the cameras and defense system if anyone came without authorization. Someone could only come here by appointment or being taken like me.

The guards opened the door, allowing me to scoot across the leather like seat and get out. I blinked a few times, not liking how bright it was here. There were too many lights and the sun reflected off of every surface.

One of the guards pulled me along the cement as one took up stride behind me. I felt privileged in a way. They thought me important enough to have three guards on me. But that soon disappeared as I entered the building. Inside was spotless. People, mostly Eltherâks, sat behind desks and computers. A few were up and about, filing away things or getting something to eat.

“He's in Interrogation room 4.” The guards nodded as the woman, human, pointed over her shoulder to where we were suppose to be. They led me through the desks and back around the corner to the hallway of interrogation rooms. Seven in total. They walked to the one with a four projected onto it. Every week they would switch the numbers, keeping everyone on their toes and for security reasons. I still didn't get it.

The door slid open with a whoosh. The guard in front walked inside, but I hesitated. My heart was beating loudly and fast. I couldn't go in there. That was like signing my death. A gun shoved into my back, forcing me inside. I glanced to my right, finding the one person I didn't want to see. High Councilor Tak'aln. He had wispy, short blue hair. Not the cyan blue that most rebel teenagers go dye their hair. This was light and soft blue, muted even. It reached his broad shoulders. Within it it had knots and beads, showing his status as a High Councilor. His skin was a muted sky blue as were many Eltherâks' skin. Their skin tone ranged from blue to red. Green was a mutation.

His markings were gold in color, obvious against his skin. They ran in lines and shapes along his skin. His eyes were hazel, a common color for both humans and Eltherâks. His dark blue lips curled into a smirk. “Miss Isis,” I hated my name. It was my mother's idea since she loved the archaic mythologies of Earth, now Era. She fell in love with this nation of Egypt and the main goddess, Isis. And poof! It became my name. My name to carry around and listen to all the teasing of the people around me.

“This is your fourth strike.” I cringed. He pulled out his tablet, standing the glass thing up before him. The white sleeves rolled down his arms as he pulled up my file. My picture. My record. “You realize that, that means you are going to the labor camp, correct?” I grumbled before nodding, staring at the metal table that separated me from Tak'aln. “Why would you try to steal from an armed convoy? You knew you would be caught.” The truth was I thought I was better than that and I wouldn't be caught. I thought I was good enough to slip in and steal a few cases and disappear. Instead of saying all of that, I simply shrugged. “Your counsel is here if you wish to talk with her.”

“No. There's no point.” Tak'aln nodded before typing things into my file. “Does there have to be a trial?” I asked softly.

Tak'aln paused in typing and looked at me. His white High Councilor robe was pristine and had a cut out at his shoulders, showing the golden arch that was part of his markings. Down the front was white lace over red. It was another symbol that he was of the High council. “There is one way, but you must put this into writing.” I nodded. “You have to plead guilty and waive your right to a trial. All written out by your hand.” I nodded once again. I knew there was no point in a trial. I would be found guilty anyway. Tak'aln turned his tablet to me and hand me a pen. There was a blank page before me. I wrote the best I could since I barely had any formal education, but I tried to teach myself every chance I could get.

It took only a few moments before I was done. Pushing the thing back to him, I set the pen down as well. He read it over before nodding. “Isis Ëaro, I hereby sentence you to the labor camp in Avinka, ten years. You are dismissed.” The guards pulled me away, taking me to a holding cell. I was with two others. One was human and the other was Eltherâk. Both were male. They didn't say anything to me as I sat on the bench to the side, avoiding them all together.

“Your transport will be here in two hours,” was the last thing I heard from the guard. The cell was shut with a force-field. None of us were getting out.

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Two hours past with little excitement or even anything to keep my mind off of my fate. Two men came and got me, guns pointed at me the whole time. It was almost like I was a high security criminal, like I would try to escape any moment now, but I wouldn't. There wasn't a place they couldn't find me. At least here. And I wasn't leaving my father. My father...

I was leaving him now. Never to see him again.
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This is a new idea that popped into my head. And it was begging me to write it. I'm still working out the kinks like grammar, spelling and descriptions though.

I do hope you have enjoyed reading this, even though this is still pretty rough right now. It is also something slightly new for me to write, so bare with it as I work everything out. Like the balance between descriptions and moving on with the story. Especially in First Person.

Please recommend, comment, suggest, or just read. :)

Though, I would appreciate it if I could get some feedback, because it is one of the best ways to improve, my writing included.

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The special accents on letters in this will be or can be different than other languages that use the accents. This is because I am creating this language as much as I can. I am thinking of putting up the basics of the language in a blog and I would connect it here. It might take me a bit to do that though.