Subdivisions

A subtle thump rattled Ezekiel's ears, as his finger depressed the trigger it so snugly clenched. Downrange, a hole appeared in the block of grey mass that had been his target, joining the grouping of some ten or twelve holes that found themselves on the lower-left of the target's center. A metallic sound echoed from beneath him, as the ejected magazine fell from the side of the weapon and clattered noisily to the floor. He paid no mind to the sound as he stood, eyes fixated on the bullet-riddled block that sat at least fifty meters away. His grouping meant that he was obviously holding the weapon too high on his shoulder, and trying too hard to align the sight with the front of his face. It was an all too familiar pattern, Ezekiel thought spitefully, and gazed about himself to his neighbors. The loud crack of the man to his left firing drew him to gaze at the target. Directly adjacent to his block was a target so well grouped with bullet holes, that the center had at least a ten centimeter crater bored through it.

             A sudden wave of Embarrassment flooded Over Ezekiel as he saw the impressive accuracy. He was an Ilearsian dammit; how could he be so easily outshot by another human? Another insult, as the rifle cracked again, and the tracer slipped straight through the hole. His eyes returned to the shooter as the sound of an ejected magazine recurred. His embarrassment subsided immediately, as he made note of the shooter's identity. It was a short man with dark skin and a rather prominent nose, a bald head of shaven hair completing his physique. Ezekiel was aware that this man was another Ilearsian like him, and immediately stepped to approach him as he placed his rifle on the bench; there was no shame in asking another of his kin for teachings. The Ilearsian man noticed his approach, and ceased loading his weapon. Looking at the number on the man's headset, Ezekiel switched his to the corresponding frequency.

             "Bru Spe-Dah, Hello." He said into the microphone of his earmuffs, the traditional greeting quick on his tongue. The man gave a slow customary reply. The tempo of the reply immediately hinted Ezekiel to the standing of this warrior. In respect, He bowed his head to the man. He was evidently much older and wiser than Ezekiel, and had tried to make that as obvious as possible. "I am sorry, my Elder. Should we continue in Terran?"

             "It would be for the best. Why do you approach me?" The Elder asked harshly.

             "I would like to know your name, my Elder." He answered in a subtle tone. "And I desire to share in your understanding of your weapon."

             The Elder Ilearsian eyed him with striking emerald eyes. The look was cold, but deserved. "I am Absalom. How many have fallen to you?"

             "I am Ezekiel, and I have killed four." He took a deep inward breath. The smell of gunsmoke left a bitter taste in his mouth, or perhaps it was some other kind of force?

             "Then I am your elder by three, Ezekiel." Absalom said smartly. "Now, what is it that you wish to learn from me?" His eyes drifted to Ezekiel's target, and he looked to understand. "I see what you are doing. Watch as I do."

             Ezekiel Stared Intently as Absalom loaded his weapon, and raised the sights eye level. He fired seven shots in rapid succession, each landing in or near the center crater he had created. Placing the weapon down, he returned to Ezekiel. "Did you see what I did? I let my eyes go to the sights. I didn't make them come to me. You are too tense when you fire. You expect the weapon to serve you, but in fact, it is you that serves the weapon. Understand that, and I guarantee that you will hit the center of the target. Loosen up and become the servant of the weapon."

             Ezekiel nodded his head subtly, and extended his hand to Absalom. "Thank you, my friend. May many more learn from your wisdom."

             A strange burning feeling came over Ezekiel's face, as his hand remained suspended in the air. Instead of meeting the gesture, Absalom instead only stared shortly, looking suspiciously at him. Ezekiel at once let his hand fall to his side and waited for something to say.

             Absalom opened his mouth to speak, a frown augmenting the movement, when Ezekiel heard the sound of a female voice in his ears. "Attention all crew and personnel of the Judgement of Syrinx. Emergency engine disengagement has been authorized. Please secure yourself to the nearest stationary object and await further instruction. Immediate Emergency engine Disengagement authorized."

             Ezekiel Looked to Absalom in instinctive expectation. He found only eyes staring back at him in the same confusion; he had obviously as well heard the announcement. The subtle thumps of gunfire around Ezekiel had ceased, and men began to drop their rifles in search of a secure object. Ezekiel removed his headpiece, and let it clatter to the floor. A single moment allowed him to lock eyes with his elder, who met him with hostile tone. It was clear in The eyes of his kinsman that there was an issue to settle. The moment was cut short in an instant as the overhead lights of the room suddenly went dark, and the entire room went impossibly black.

             Ezekiel's feet left the floor, and he was involuntarily bound to mid-air. The emergency engine shut-off must have also shut off the lighting and artificial gravity. Suddenly, a blunt object Struck him in the face, and he fell across to the floor. A stinging sensation coupled the trauma to his brain as it struggled to regain its senses. Without a sense of sight and afflicted with vertigo suspended in the air, Ezekiel felt a sick feeling begin to rise in his chest, and vomited painfully into an unknown direction. He swung his hands out in a frenzy to find an object to grab hold off, but was futile in his efforts. There was nothing within arm's reach, and Ezekiel could not tell if he was moving or not. Curses and shouts of confusion and fear echoed through the dark space, as men who had also failed to find a secure place floated about aimlessly.

             The seconds became minutes, and Ezekiel began to fatigue. He had unfortunately found the weightless mass of his vomit with a flailing arm, but otherwise could find nothing to root himself to. How long would it be until at least the lights were back on? The blight of the situation was coupled with slight relief, as the news of the emergency disengagement meant that power must have been restored to the engines. Sure enough once power to the whole of the ship was restored and the emergency disengagement over, they would be back on course, or at least now know where they were. But until then, he floated aimlessly in a room entirely devoid of light. The air developed an icy chill, as the smell of the heavy gun smoke that was no longer being circulated by the ventilation system settled to the ground, and choked Ezekiel's lungs. At least he was sure he was close to the ground, and his height hinted that he would not have far to fall.

             A terrifying falling feeling at once overcame Ezekiel's entire body, and with a painful crack he struck the cold metal floor. A stinging pain pulsated from his neck, and with a cry of agony his hand sought to find his collarbone. Without sight, he felt the disconnect of an obvious break in the bone. He groaned bitterly at the injury, and curled himself to rest on his forearms and knees. His eyes were suddenly blinded by a flash of bright white light that burst through the pure darkness to illuminate the room. Ezekiel shut his eyes tightly to protect them, and stood himself up, arm shielding his eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the light, they drifted over scenes of himself in the third person. Around him other men and women struggled themselves to their feet, forcing their eyes to forget the darkness that had enthralled them seconds ago.

             Just as Ezekiel had felt sure of his footing, the floor again retreated from beneath his feet as the entire room rattled with a violent quaking. Landing on his shoulder, the breath was taken from his lungs at the shock of pain that coursed from his broken collarbone. This was bullshit! Why couldn't he catch a break? He sucked in a breath of metallic-tainted air, and pushed himself again to a standing position. Where had that quake come from? He concluded with a sudden flush of his face that one of the engines must have blown up. Did that mean they were dead in space? No. The ship had to be able to run with one of its engines disabled. He waited for a voice to sound over the speakers. The bridge would without a doubt know what was going on.

             Sure enough, within seconds the voice of the ship's communications officer sounded through the room. "Attention All crew in decks D to engine compartments, please remain secured to the nearest stationary object. We are experiencing extreme turbulence in our entry into the atmosphere of an unknown planet, and navigation will be attempting a port-stern rotation to try and soften inevitable surface impact. After impact, all crew remain at station until ordered." The voice paused, as though forgetting its words, then continued in an uncharacteristic tone. "Good luck." The speakers went silent.

             Ezekiel had wasted no time in doing as the bridge officer had commanded, as acting on instinct he threw himself at a rifle, and grabbed hold of the tie that loosely held it to the weapon rack. Swiftly Ezekiel wrapped the tie about his shoulders, and hastily wrapped the tie around itself across his chest. In a panic, he searched for a part of the wall to hold onto with his hands. Jutting from the otherwise flat surface of the wall was a small bolted down seat; it was his only chance. He dove for the chair, but was thrown to the ground as the room again rattled violently, and began to tilt sideways. A mighty force dragged Ezekiel away from the chair and along the floor into a far wall. The tie had done little to secure him to his place, and He regretted wasting the time to tie himself with it. From his pinned position on the wall, he watched others struggled to keep hold of objects they had latched themselves to. The force holding him to the wall grew stronger, as Ezekiel's vision began to blur and tunnel, and his arms go numb. He tried to let out a cry of agony as the pain in his collarbone spouted through his whole body, but it was to no avail. The air had been stolen from his lungs, which could not find the strength enough to fight the G forces compressing them. Near blindness, Ezekiel felt his eyes begin to fall backwards, and struggled to stay awake. A thumping sound rattled the wall beside him, and he could stay awake no longer. Blackness overcame his sight, and his mind fell to unconsciousness.