Travelling in Discomfort (Solo)

Dread wrote:Kanassan townspeople stared toward the sky as a brilliant object streaked across it. Many, at first, mistook it for a meteorite that would harmlessly burn up in the planet’s atmosphere. Older members of the community who had seen such things occur infrequently in the past realized that the object was much too large to be a meteor. They conveyed their thoughts telepathically to the rest of the populace. Many citizens on the receiving end of the message hurried home to await further news about the development; they had visitors.

The object descended just on the outskirts of town where a welcoming committee of only two local officials waited. Neither had seen its like before, but they both recognized the house-sized structure for some sort of space vessel. They both reached out with their consciousnesses and detected the presence of two life forms contained within. They tried probing deeper to determine the origin of the passengers as well as their intentions. One of the passengers lashed out at them with his own mind and sent them reeling backwards. They landed roughly onto the wasted soil that surrounded the salvage heap of a civilization.

The ship opened and a hatch with steps along its interior lowered itself onto the ground. One man emerged from the ship and stopped without having taken his first step down. An imposing figure behind him struck him violently and sent him crashing down onto the ground directly in between the two kanassans. The fallen man got to his feet and rubbed his elbows; he then looked around in absolute wonder. He stared deeply at the two kanassans on either side of him and gaped in astonishment at their fish-like appearance. “We’re not here for sightseeing, John,” The second of the ship’s occupants spoke, neither of the kanassans understood his words.

They would have gleaned the information of his language so as to proceed to communicate were they not so afraid of the visitor’s powers; he had already demonstrated a little of his ability already. The second stranger to their world levitated down toward the ground; his flying ability immediately indicated he had the capacity for combat and neither kanassan wished to make an enemy of him by doing something to insult him. They both stood and looked at the second man whose face was hidden in a deep shadow.

The man stared back at them then cast his consciousness onto them, piercing their minds and cramming them with the information he wanted them to have. The kanassans were both used to telepathic exchanges, but what they felt from the stranger was nothing compared to what they had experienced before. They both felt as though someone was screaming inside their heads while crushing their skulls in a vice. They both wanted it to end and screamed; they both observed his smile at their pain and they knew then that what they faced was a true monster.

“You now understand me.” The man spoke and what he said was not a question; he stated a fact.

“Who are you?” One of the recovering kanassans asked.

“Today, I am a businessman.” “Coach” announced. “Cheer up; you have visitors who want to purchase certain valuables.” He said with a farce of a good natured smile.

“What is it you want?” The second kanassan asked with disdain.

“Coach” handed the latest speaker a neatly folded piece of paper with instructions written on it. The kanassan unfolded and examined it, discovering that he could read the primitive style. He handed it over to his comrade who also scanned the page. They looked at one another for a moment in a silence, telepathically exchanging their thoughts and opinions on the matter. They finally turned away from one another and stared back at “Coach”. “Will you leave us in peace if we honor your request?” The first kanassan asked.

“As long as you carry out the instructions written on that paper, I will see no reason to raze what little remains of your society to the ground.” “Coach” said.

“Will you leave?” The second kanassan persisted.

“Why would I stay? This is not my home; I’m no post-apocalyptic straggler. I’ll leave you and your miserable friends and family to your little hell as long as I get what I want.” “Coach” replied.

Dread wrote:Two Days Earlier…

The ship rumbled tremendously as it ascended away from the forest within which John had spent the last few days of his life. The forest was where he had also almost met his end more than once and only recently had “Coach” decided it too dangerous for his continued training.

John remained injured, suffering, and helpless on a strange bed; it was hardly more than a rounded out mattress stuffed into a metallic and oval-shaped hollow in the ship’s floor. Coach sat, securely strapped, at the center of the ship and in front of the pillar that extended up to the ceiling and went further down than the floor. “Coach” carefully observed the controls and displays at his fingertips, ignoring John completely even though it was well within his power to heal his student.

Several minutes passed without either John or “Coach” moving. It was a long way up from the ground to orbiting distance around the planet. John turned his head toward the windows and saw the sky outside turning from a brilliant blue to an abysmal black flecked with distant stars. “Coach” typed in more commands; John felt the ship suddenly lurch as it changed direction. He accurately guessed that they had just left Earth behind. They were well on their way toward whatever alien destination his teacher had in mind ever since taking on this interstellar expedition. John wondered why neither he nor “Coach” started floating if they had left the planet’s gravitational pull.

“Coach” stepped out of his seat and walked toward John, grinning with devious intent. He moved his hands toward John who feebly tried swatting them away from him. “Coach” backhanded him across the face, igniting the painful burns he received from his last brush with Death. “Coach” gripped John’s shoulders, sending lightning bolts of agony from the one that had been recently dislocated in the same event that had left him covered in burns. He then began infusing John’s body with his own ki, a malevolent force suddenly used for a benevolent purpose. His body tingled uncomfortably as his burns vanished and new skin grew in their place, unmarked. His arm reset itself and his back completely healed from the attention it had received from a giant’s boot.

“Coach” stood up and clapped his hands as though having just touched something unclean. John sat up in his bed without any difficulty and managed to speak for the first time since his teacher collected him. “Where are we going?” He asked.

“What was that?” “Coach” asked.

John thought to repeat his question, but he knew his teacher had heard him. He realized “Coach” desired to be properly addressed by his student. “Where are we going, Coach?” John amended.

“Coach” grinned again as he opened a dresser drawer hidden in the ship’s side and removed from it a bundle of clothes. He walked toward John and shoved them into his arms. “Change into these,” “Coach” ordered. “Bathroom’s down there,” He said while pointing to a ladder that led deeper into the ship.

John went down and found himself in a smaller section of the ship. “It’s right in front of you!” “Coach” called down to him.

John stepped forward and a door in the wall, marked only by a wide red stripe over its surface, automatically whooshed upward, allowing him entrance to what “Coach” called a bathroom. It was hardly larger than the size of two public stalls. It featured a tiny toilet, a tiny sink with a mirror, and a single knob in the far wall. John figured the knob released water from an overhead spout for a shower, but he bother with none of those things. He slipped out of the burnt remains of his old outfit then dressed in the clothes “Coach” had given him, including the strange gloves.

He examined himself in the mirror after he had donned the moccasins. How strange. He thought. I don’t just look like a fighter; I feel like one too. He could not begin to guess what caused the sensation; he dismissed the “It’s all in my head” theory because there was something substantial and prominent about the sensation. “How do you feel?” “Coach” asked with a knowing smiling as soon as John rejoined him in the main area.

“I actually feel good, Coach,” John admitted. “I can’t explain it.”

“It’s the clothes I gave you,” “Coach” explained. “Their creator infused them with power and whoever wears these items gains that power. There are many such items throughout the galaxy, but I have determined that these will benefit you the most.”

“Wow, really?” John asked with genuine astonishment.

“Yes, John, as you put it, ‘really’.” “Coach” confirmed.

“Why did you give me these things?” John asked.

“Give you?” “Coach” laughed. “I didn’t give you anything. This ship and your new clothes; these are things that have been bought with your money!” He announced.

“But I don’t have any money,” John pointed out.

“The contest you’re in grants you a substantial amount of currency just for your participation,” “Coach” revealed.

The contest “Coach” spoke of was one John was forced to join after killing one of the contestants in South City. He had been given thirty days to prepare for the very real fights for survival ahead and he was almost out of time. “How come I never saw any of this money?” John asked and bitterly added, “…Coach.”

“I took it upon myself to look after your finances,” “Coach” admitted without a smattering of guilt. “I don’t expect you to thank me, but you may hold your tongue.”

John clenched and unclenched his gloved hands into fists in anger, but he slowly relaxed. “If this is my ship,” John steadily began, “May I at least know its destination?”

“You know what they say, John. It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.” “Coach” happily replied. “And I plan on spending our journey together giving you your fourth lesson.”

Dread wrote:“Coach” walked over to the ship’s controls and gestured at his student to follow; John obeyed more out of curiosity than out of loyalty toward his tormentor. “Do you know what this is?” “Coach” asked him, pointing at a digital display that presently read “1-g”.

“What is it, Coach?” John asked.

“This displays the amount of gravity generated by the machine you see before you.” “Coach” explained, but John was not yet sure what point he was trying to make. “This machine was originally designed so that space travelers could walk about freely in their vessels rather than float about, relying on bouncing off the walls of the cabin to get where they were needed. The inventor included a way to adjust the gravity in the ship to suit a ship’s occupants’ needs, but he did not count on anyone actually daring enough adjusting the gravity well beyond normal human limits. Such is the way of a brilliant mind, so concerned with making something incredible that it forgets to consider the consequences.

“Most earthlings are content to spend their entire lives on our home world, Earth. Space is a frightening place, but what frightens our people the most is the unknown and space is completely filled with the unknown. That is, in my opinion, why commercial space travel has not yet boomed. Space travel almost failed in terms of turning a profit; the expenses of manufacturing starships and the fuel needed to propel them at a speed that exceeds that of light are phenomenal. Many of the oldest space programs failed as a result of the massive debt they accumulated; their owners ended up selling all they had including blueprints for future vessels along with information and theories that would one day help break the light speed barrier. This is one of the reasons why Capsule Corporation is predominant in space travel.

“There are eccentrics like myself, however, who diligently work to ensure space travel flourishes; people including myself know that Earth is under constant threat from invasion and we must prepare ourselves for the impending arrival of war. Yes, John, a great war is being waged in the deepest recesses of space and it has already devastated many other worlds. We must learn from the failures of our interstellar neighbors and strengthen ourselves and advance our defenses so that humanity may continue to thrive. We must have daring and willing pioneers who will travel the cosmos and learn from the enemy that approaches our border.

“These pioneers must also be strong, fast, and capable of working under pressure; in other words, our explorers must also be soldiers ready and willing to lay down their lives for the continuation of life on Earth as we know it. You are probably wondering what any of this has to do with our conventional gravity machine. There have been others before us who have used gravity machines as a means of strengthening themselves, honing their skills, and programming their bodies to adjust accordingly to the varying degrees of gravity on other worlds. The results of their training were too visible to ignore and the regiment they fashioned has been perfected for use in the present.”

John had never believed “Coach” felt anything other than a strong urge to cause others to suffer. His words revealed to him that his trainer actually felt concern for other people. He wanted to see humans succeed, thrive, and overcome any challenge thrown at him. Perhaps his sadistic nature came from the fact that humans radically failed to meet his expectations. Perhaps he had long since taken it upon himself to use malicious discipline as a means of teaching others to stop reveling in their own weakness. John shook his head at these complicated thoughts; even if they were true, he could never possibly find it in his heart to forgive his teacher for all he had done to him. “So, John…” “Coach” began with his trademark grin that forewarned of bad things about to happen. “…Are you ready to feel what fifty times Earth’s gravity feels like?”

Dread wrote:“Coach” typed in a series of commands on the panel before him then turned around and faced John with his arms crossed and his lips twisted in a cruel smile. The lights in the ship all turned red, reminding John of terrible things. The light reminded him of “Coach’s” dreadful aura, it reminded him of a very recent nightmare he had of being on a dying world orbiting a dying star, and it reminded him of the giant whose attacks generated a deathly red glow. The light served to issue John a warning and he received it just as his body began to feel tremendously heavy. “You’re not giving in already, are you?” “Coach” asked him as John surrendered to the force that dragged him down to the floor; he quickly sank to his knees.

His hands dropped with two uniform smacks onto the floor, pinned in place as though someone had placed a stack of lead weight atop both of them. His head sank toward his chest, he tried fighting to keep it straight, but he did not believe he had enough strength for that much. “If you don’t fight it, John, you will die.” “Coach” stated; John never knew the man to lie, which made him wonder why his teacher had bothered saving him in the first place. “Coach’s” training often involved a high risk of death, but John survived it all through luck, assistance, or a little of both.

“Come now, John. The machine is still warming up; we have only just reached twenty times Earth’s gravity. Your body can’t possibly weigh more than three tons right now.” “Coach” revealed to John’s immediate despair.

Three tons? This isn’t training! This is fucking murder! There’s no way I can survive this! John fell over onto his chest with his arms lying helplessly on either side of him. How can he possibly stand in this room? What is his secret? John thought that if he knew “Coach’s” technique, he could survive. “You’re acting like a baby, John. There is absolutely no way you can be this weak after your first three lessons. What is it that is holding you back, John? Why are you just lying there? Get up and start walking! We are now at thirty times earth’s gravity. Is four tons of body weight too much for you to handle? Ridiculous, John! You are being absolutely ridiculous! Quit this worthless act of self pity, get off your lazy ass, and start walking NOW!” “Coach” demanded.

John imagined jumping up to his feet; he pictured in the instant his feet lifted inches off the floor that he who strike out at “Coach”. He grinned at the image of his trainer, gaping stupidly in disbelief as he personally knocked down to the floor with a single blow. He almost chuckled with satisfaction as his imagination presented a scene of “Coach” lying helplessly at his feet in the extreme gravity; his life now in John’s hands and their roles reverse. ‘I’ll let you live on one condition.’ The imaginary John said. ‘Take us back to Earth and swear on your life to be my slave for the rest of your life.’ Imaginary “Coach” promptly agreed to his terms. ‘And from now on, you are going to answer to Sally, got it, Sally?’ Imaginary John said and the real John immediately and audibly laughed at the conclusion of his fantasy.

“Coach” continued to yell at John and insult him. “You are worthless! I have wasted my time on what amounts to maggot food. Hear that, John? Your only purpose in life is to serve as a breeding ground for flies! No, you are less than that. We are at fifty times earth’s gravity and you are about to be turned into a puddle for the sanitation sequence to remove. You’re just a stain, John! A stain no one wants to look at; not even your mother could stand the look of you and neither can I!”

John never knew his mother, but he had always wanted one and spent his entire childhood wondering why his own mother abandoned him. He often cried over his own abandonment even as he grew into a young and seasoned burglar. “Coach’s” words struck the deepest and darkest festering wound in John’s soul and immediately ignited his anger as a result. His fingers twitched and his muscles bulged as he struggled to lift his body off the floor, a body that currently weighed more than six tons. His aura, the reflection of the cruelty he endured and the void that existed within him in place of love and warmth, encompassed his form in the deepest blackness and with the coldest of chills; his eyes lit with identical blazing fires of envy over all he had ever wanted and was constantly denied.

Dread wrote:John laboriously managed to push his body inches off the ground with both of his hands. His heart hammered in his chest and he broke out in a sweat, but the droplets only punished him rather than cool him as, in fifty times earth’s normal gravity, they added additional unwanted pounds of pressure onto his form. His hair quickly dropped down over his eyes and threatened to snap his neck with its weight. He felt as though someone had grabbed the follicles and was now tugging his head downward with all their physical might. His clothes, as light as they may have been in normal gravity, easily added an additional hundreds of pounds of weight onto him. He realized this is what was meant by g-force when he saw advertisements for roller coasters on television. Whereas a roller coaster only offered to suppress its passengers with two or three G’s of force, John contended against fifty G’s!

He slid one leg beneath him and only just avoided impaling his gut on the solid kneecap. It would have only too easily crushed his innards and slide into his flesh with the effectiveness of a spear under the present pressure. He dragged the other leg beneath him at a lesser pace than the first. Neither of his limbs felt like they belonged to him; instead, his legs felt to him as though his real legs had been strapped to a pair of semi-trucks and a rig attached to each of them. He managed all the same and paused; it took everything he had not to double over. Folding would have ended him, his spine would have snapped and his knees would have pierced his intestines without hesitation.

He took a few breaths; sweat soon soaked not only his body, but also started taking up residence within his clothes, weighing them down further. John lurched forward for a fraction of a second and stopped with little time to spare. His knees pressed uncomfortably against his gut, squeezing the air from his lungs in that position. I have to get back up! I need air! John screamed mentally at himself. He trembled with the sheer effort of lifting off his own treacherous knees; he breathed, but the blessed air that refilled his system was no reason for celebration. I have to keep going! He demanded of himself.

He rose into an upright sitting position, but he encountered a new threat. He had placed the entire weight of his upper body onto his legs and it now threatened to cripple him. John cried out in agony as he felt his own ass threaten to burst the muscle and veins in his legs. If he did not continue on from that point, he would never be able to stand again let alone walk or run. He slid his hands across the floor; they moved with great reluctance as did the rest of his body, but they reached their destination with a little coaxing from his will.

He focused on his arms and pressed down with all the strength he could muster that was not already being used to keep his straightened limbs from collapsing in on themselves. He rose gradually and the crushing weight on his legs disappeared, but he was not yet clear of the dangers that threatened to cripple and kill him. Some damage had already been inflicted on his legs, both of which now ached horribly from having had to support the equivalence of a small truck in weight.

He willed his right leg to slide forward so that he could stand on at least one foot. He winced as his shin scraped awfully along the tiled floor of the ship. It rested where he needed it. Now the hard part. He thought as he gasped for air from the tremendous exertion of what seemed like such a simple task. He lifted his leg some inches off the ground and needed to execute the next action within an instant or he risked snapping his foot cleanly off his ankle. He forced his leg up another fraction of an inch and held it there as he pointed his foot forward to land on it. He could not allow the gravity to claim his foot immediately or the impact would shatter his entire leg. He controlled its descent with tremendous and unthinkable effort, but he managed to plant his foot safely on the floor of the ship.

John gritted his teeth and hesitated for what needed done next. It was almost too much for him to remain in a somewhat upright position and that required every ounce of strength throughout his entire body and all his will. There was hardly anything connecting his foot to his ankle and yet he needed to use it to support all his weight. A simple mistake would obliterate his foot and he would come crashing down onto the floor, destroying the rest of his body. I can’t do it! I can’t do this! It’s too much! John mentally cried out.

In spite of his mental protestations, John proceeded; he had no idea what drove him to do it. He thought that maybe he just wanted to finish something he started and that the consequences could burn in hell along with him for all he cared. He stood slowly on his right foot and dragged his left leg forward into position. To his surprise, his foot remained intact and supported him. He successfully brought his other foot firmly and flat onto the floor and widened his stance so as to compensate for the increased gravity.

John stared with a triumphant smile at “Coach”, but his teacher regarded him with a question in his eyes that he soon spoke aloud. “Why are you so happy?”

“In ten seconds from now, you will experience sixty times Earth’s gravity.” He stated

John stared in disbelief at his teacher, but felt the floor trying to reclaim him with an almost irresistible vengeance. John’s legs spread further apart, but he stopped his body in time from sliding all the way down into a split formation. The idea of placing all his physical weight down onto his pelvis terrified him almost more than the idea of dying, crushed to death by “Coach’s” fourth lesson. “Oh look, baby knows how to stand!” “Coach” applauded John mockingly. “I hope you enjoyed your warm up, John. Lesson four has hardly begun.”

Dread wrote:“Coach” immediately threw a punch at John after his declaration; even though he held back, his arm still moved quickly and without resistance in spite of the increased gravity. John knew he should not have been surprised by such an attack from his sadistic teacher, but he stared with his mouth agape in shock all the same. “Coach’s” knuckles crashed into the side of his face with the force of a speeding car. It nearly felled him, but John managed to remain standing by taking two leaden steps backward and swaying for a moment from the impact. As he swayed, nearly tipping over completely, he felt as though the bones in his body were all precariously stacked pieces of fine china, ready to come crashing down and shatter at a moment’s notice.

“Coach” moved forward and threw another punch at him with the same fist that had only recently nearly toppled John. John retreated, but he moved too slowly to avoid the attack in its entirety. Knuckles brushed none too gently against his cheek, easily bruising the skin they touched. John took a couple more steps backward as his teacher continued to advance on him. “Come on, boy!” “Coach” spat. “I’m barely tapping you and you look like you’ve been hit by a meteor.” John certainly felt as though a giant meteor had crashed down atop him and it was all he could do not to allow its weight to crush him.

“Coach” reached forward and seized John’s throat in his hand. He squeezed, cutting John off from the ship’s air supply. He gagged and trembled with the effort of trying to bring his arms toward “Coach’s” hand in an instinctive attempt to free his neck. “Coach” easily and subsequently slapped either of John’s hands away; both immediately dropped uselessly to his sides where they hung; gravity greedily sucked at them, trying to rip John’s arms from their sockets. “Coach” then lifted him off the floor and suspended him in his grip. “Why don’t you try flying, John?” “Coach” asked. “Do you not know your spirit is stronger than your body?”

He gave his student no chance to reply because, as soon as he finished asking his rhetorical questions, he tossed John’s body toward the ship’s ceiling as easily as one might throw a basketball. John struck the ship’s rounded wall with his back; gravity readily reclaimed him toward the floor. When he dropped from the ceiling, his bodily rapidly neared terminal velocity as it approached the hard tiled surface below. He exerted his entire will onto one thought. STOP! He spread his arms out to the sides and also spread his legs apart; his body slowed drastically then stopped with only a fraction of an inch separating his nose from the floor. An instant later and the impact would have crushed his nose and lodged its fragments into his brain.

He elevated his body through will alone then righted himself before “Coach”. John gasped for breath as he stared into the shadow that constantly concealed his teacher’s eyes from view. “Coach” looked back at him, but remained motionless beyond the slight tilting of his head. He appeared to be examining John and pondering his next course of action. “Touch the ceiling,” “Coach” ordered after a time.

John gritted his teeth then ascended toward the highest point of the ship with tremendous difficulty. He trembled violently as he reached up with one arm and just managed to bump his clenched fist against the ship’s interior. “Hold it there,” “Coach” demanded to John’s immense grief.

John waited; his arm ached horribly from resisting the incredible gravity over such an extended period. He felt his strength leaving him after a mere ten seconds since he pressed his knuckles against the ceiling. He closed his eyes and concentrated; he directed some of the same force that kept him aloft above the floor to his arm so that he would not have to rely on physical strength alone to maintain its position. Even with the additional support of his own spiritual power, John knew he could not remain airborne for much longer. A minute went by, but for each second that expired felt to John like a hundred as greatly as he desired for lesson four to conclude. “Come down from there, John.” “Coach” spoke with a tone a parent uses to scold a child for climbing atop an oven to ransack the cupboards above it.

John was definitely eager to land, but he could not touch down immediately or the damage to his body from the resulting impact would be irreparable. He moved with unrivalled trepidation toward the tiles below and, to his short-lived relief, he managed to place both of his feet safely on the floor. “Touch the ceiling,” “Coach ordered him as soon as he landed; John stared at him in disbelief and a few choice words hung unspoken on the edge of his tongue. “Do it before I decide to crank up the pressure.” The thought of another increase of gravity was motivation enough for John to repeat the exercise.

Dread wrote:John repeated the exercise in sixty times Earth’s gravity with no form of reprieve; “Coach” had already demonstrated his intolerance towards any sign of laziness or insubordination. John wisely chose to pit his body against the increased gravity rather than against his teacher. His body was close to tearing itself apart in defiance to his will, but it miraculously remained intact throughout the ordeal. He had long since realized that the mystical outfit his trainer had purchased with his money helped him overcome the challenge of his fourth lesson rather than simply serving as additional dead weight. “That will suffice for today, John.” “Coach” told him after a while.

John landed as he had done countless times before within the last several minutes; his teacher typed in some commands at the gravity control panel. An immense weight quickly left every part of John’s aching body and he closed his eyes and smiled to revel in the sweet freedom that normal gravity provided. That moment never arrived, however. The gravity lessened, but never reached a mere 1g in force. John opened his eyes and stared at “Coach” in confusion, but he need not bother asking him about his intentions; his teacher happily explained his actions.

“We will spend our journey in no less than ten times Earth’s normal gravity. I will, of course, raise the level for your training, but it will never drop below 10g’s even when we are eating or sleeping. Do not touch the controls if you value your hands.” John accepted the decision without complaint, but only because after what he had survived, 10g’s felt like a dream.

They ate a simple meal of rehydrated food and drank from juice pouches, neither of them appeared to have any expertise in the culinary arts and the ship lacked a proper kitchen. John went down to shower as per “Coach’s” instructions and changed into a set of pajamas that came with the ship. The back of his night gown was embroidered with the message “Compliments of Capsule Corp” in large and glaring black letters. He went to his bed where all the aches and pains of his training caught up to him. He was half tempted to peer out one of the windows into space, but he was too damned tired to do more than stumble into his bed. He suppressed a rising scream just before he fell asleep.

He woke the next morning from an uncomfortable slumber plagued by wretched dreams; he screamed as he escaped the realm of nightmares and into the waking world to the very real terrors that awaited him. He joined his teacher for a breakfast of tasteless mush and overwhelmingly sweetened fruit concentrates. John donned his gear as per “Coach’s” orders and proceeded to train in sixty times Earth’s gravity; he repeated the same exercises he had suffered the previous day.

“Coach” allowed a break in John’s training and they ate a quick lunch together. His training resumed immediately after John had cleaned his tray. “Coach” kept careful track of time because he ended the training session on the same hour they had eaten dinner the night before. He showered and went to bed, feeling like a desecrated and walking corpse; a creature wracked with agony from the torments it endured and continued living when it had no right to do such a thing.

A loud beep tore John out of a most frightful dream; he looked around and groggily noticed “Coach” sitting at the controls. “You are awake.” “Coach” said; it was not a question. “That was the proximity alert; we are approaching our destination and we will be landing shortly.” He explained. “I suggest you change into your gear just in case the locals prove hostile.” He advised.

John did just that then sat in a seat near a window and looked out with wonder for the first time since they had left Earth. An exotic blue star burned brightly in the distance, filling him with a sense of awe. It illuminated a fast-approaching strange world below them and John had little time to admire its strange beauty before the ship began descending down into its atmosphere. The craft rumbled violently as it had when they launched off Earth, but the feeling was far from the worst thing John had experienced throughout his first time travelling in space.

Dread wrote:Current Events…

The two kanassans left “Coach” and his travelling companion to carry out the instructions given to them. “What is this place? Where are we, Coach? What…who were those people?” John asked; his teacher made no reply and, instead, walked away from the ship and proceeded into the bizarre city looming ahead. “Where are you going, Coach?” John asked as he hurried to follow.

The city itself was not bizarre by its appearance; it looked almost identical to the cities back on Earth. The natives built their structures in the same shapes that humans used for their architecture, but there were only a limited number of ways a tall building could be constructed while retaining its structural integrity. What made the place completely odd to John was that it existed on a world many light years from Earth. The alien city’s location on a distant planet that, in turn, revolved around a blue sun made it the strangest place John had ever visited in his young life. He simply felt overwhelmed by the strangeness of his surroundings as he and “Coach” proceeded further into its depths.

“Please, Coach, explain to me what we are doing here. Does this have anything to do with my training?” John asked; secretly wishing the answer would be “No”.

“It certainly does, John,” “Coach” replied. “But, for now, I will answer your other questions. The people here are known as kanassans, named after their planet, Kanassa. Calling them by that title, however, is the same as calling us Earthlings because of our origin. I have no idea what these people actually call themselves, nor do I care. They might have had a variety of nations and cities that divided their species into various races with numerous cultures just as we have back on Earth, but that is no longer the case.” “Coach” explained. “Tell me, John, did you look at the ground before we landed?” He asked.

“Of course,” John replied.

“What did you see?” “Coach” asked him.

“I saw mostly rocks, mountains, and dirt. There were also a bunch of great cracks and holes in the ground as though giants tried ripping the place apart.” John answered.

“You prove observant when you want to be, John.” “Coach” commented. “This planet was mostly wasted by a mercantile race. They came and enslaved the people of this world, but the kanassans fought back and the resulting battle devastated the planet’s surface. The surviving kanassans from that battle ended up enslaved, but not wiped out or, at the very least, relocated; a mistake that their oppressors regretted. The kanassan people revolted under the leadership of a master strategist and skilled seer…”

“What’s a seer?” John asked out of his own ignorance.

“A seer, John, is a person who can see into the future.” “Coach” explained with a sigh. “This kanassan seer used his talents to predict the movements of his people’s enemies and coordinated an effective attack against them. The kanassans successfully drove their enemies away and reclaimed their planet or what was left of it anyway.”

“Are you telling me that a single battle was all it took to enslave an entire planet? That’s impossible! Conquering a country takes years, but a planet?” John spoke with great disbelief.

“You said that the ground looked as though giants tore it apart.” “Coach” said. “The truth is close enough to the words you spoke. A race exists not unlike our own; Earth scientists would immediately categorize them as primates as well they should. Unlike humans, however, most of them possess black hair that naturally extends upward in a series of flamboyant spikes. Their hair remains upright never drooping as though in constant defiance of the gravity that compels all that rises to fall into its place. They are born with tails similar to those found on chimpanzees and they each possess a natural ability that enables them to conquer a planet in a single evening.” “Coach” paused for dramatic effect as both he and John made their way down a walkway much similar to a sidewalk back on Earth.

“Whenever they experience the light of a full moon on any planet, regardless of the star or satellite involved, they transform into enormous monsters. What makes this fact worse is that they know how to replicate the light of a full moon with their ki energy, enabling them to take on this bestial form whenever they wish. These monsters, I speak of, resemble massive gorillas with tails, but their strength in this particular form radically increases. Their metamorphosis into a massive killing machine is their chosen weapon of war and it has ended many civilizations. I have not yet heard of a single race to have fully recovered from an encounter with their army.” “Coach” said, completing his tale.

“What are they?” John asked.

“Saiyans,” “Coach” spoke with incredible disdain as though he spoke of an infectious virus that, in all haste, needed to be killed by fire.

“You still haven’t told me why we came here,” John persisted.

“I will ignore your ungrateful attitude this time, boy, but take care not to insult me again,” “Coach” forewarned. “The kanassans are going to modify our ship; these modifications pertain to your training. You will discover soon enough in what way these modifications will affect your training. It will take hours for our hosts to complete the work I have assigned them and I would rather not spend the night in a construction site.” He stopped in front of a lavish building that had all the familiar trimmings of a grand hotel; even a massive water feature rested several feet in front of the revolving entrance. “The more things change eh, John?” He commented with a chuckle.