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Nervous Habit Part Two By Kael Yakuza With the screech of metal on metal, the BlackLine tram came to a slow halt. Kael, woken out of her blank trance, gathered her things and stood up to stretch. Hooded sweatshirt donned and backpack slung over her shoulder, she made her way through the crowd of people flocking towards the old spaceport. The spaceport, no longer in use due to the mines, is a favorite gathering place of gamblers, stim addicts, and regular ol' fans of the sport. With all the excitement going through the place, though the races are watched on screens, you'd think all the employees would go mad. Her mind wanders as she mindlessly finds the best path around the fleet of aliens... "Excuse me, miss?", Kael had said to teenage Hekshanian girl, in her native elvish tongue. North Tek was huge, and easy to get lost in. She had already gotten cold and hungry. The walk to the great place depleted her food supply, and ignorance of what thickness of clothing she should wear left her clinging to every last thread on her thin parka. The Hekshanian girl, not understanding elvish, made some simple hand gestures showing she didn't have a clue what Kael had said. Before the half-breed could walk away disappointed, the other girl showed an act of courtisy and handed Kael a bread crust. Taking it thankfully, she nodded her head and smiled. Maybe these folk ain't so bad after all... The Hekshanian pointed to her left, down the street and said a two words in Uni, "Clothing store.". Though not understanding at all, the half-human nodded again and walked in the direction the girl had pointed. Maybe there was something of interest there? Blink. Back in reality, Kael saw there was a store in front of her. Not the same one from her past, though. This one was the betting booths. She had reached the old spaceport and gotten to the head of a line. An adult Nikitak smiled from behind the stand. "Good day, Kael! I see you're back again, now. The same as us'al? Fiftoin chips?", he inquired with a slight British accent. She shook her head, "Not today, Radjer. I hear there is a new racer out there... he's survived his first few races. Here's one hundred chips; put them all on Jet." She slid the cash forward, under the slot made through the clear barrier wall. Radjer blinked in utter disbelief. How could a young'un of her status get this much cash easily? "One hundred? Righto, if that is to so be your wish..." He paused for a second to give her a chance to reconsider. Kael shot him a glare that let him know she meant business. A few people behind her began to get roudy at the delay she was responsible for. Radjer entered in the information quickly and handed her the ticket with her race information on it. "Good luck, young'un!", he said with a faint smile. Kael walked to the area where her race was going to be shown. It would start in a few minutes, not just yet. On the screen were displayed Myches scurrying about, making the neccessary last-second checks to their employers' racing machines. Tools and such strewn about, she knew the mess would not be cleaned until it was absolutely neccessary. The busywork they were performing set her a bit dizzy, and she fell back into the trance... It had started to rain now. She needed something to keep her warm. Hmm... it appears the Hekshanian girl had shown her the way to a place stocked full of warm sweatshirts. The shopkeeper looked very frusterated with his help, who were all squealing about as they splashed in the quick-forming puddles. She looked at the hooded sweatshirt, at the splashing kids, then at the shopowner. He spoke to her, "Sweatshirts -- thirty chips." His language seemed simple on purpose. He seemed a bit shakey because of her appearance, seeming like a human but not, as evident from her ears. Since she could still not understand any Uni, she held out what currency she brought along, which amounted to exactly forty four chips. Of course, she didn't know the difference betweem the words 'thirty' and 'forty-four', so she was not alarmed when he took all of her chips. Thrusting a red hooded sweatshirt at her, he quickly started packing up what was left of his merchandice and ordered his helpers around. Prompty, Kael put on the item, satisfied. Now, if she could only find some shelter... The sound of a familiar loud beep erupted from the system hooked up to the screen. Her head snapped up and she set herself down in a seat. This race... this would prove to be the one where I can finally break free of my chains... this ignorance... The machines and stim-high pilots whipped around the track like lightning, but the team of people recording the race were far quicker. Kael clutched onto her ticket like a child to a stuffed toy, eyes sparkling at the dazzling display of the dance of death. Through the mines the racers went, all the time as hyped up as their body could take it. Voices came shouting through the old spaceport, some even jumping up and down, cheering for their favorites. She sat still. Very still, concentrating on saving her energy. It wouldn't be needed until the race became close. No one had even died yet... died, yes, like she almost did... Rain dripping down her clothes, Kael held tight onto hope someone would take her in. A bright flash, then an eruption of thunder. The shower had soon turned into a wicked storm. If... if only I had stayed with Morsk... Up ahead, a small pinhole of hope... Just an old spaceport, sure, but it would be more than sufficient shelter to sleep in. Another flash of lightning, much closer to her this time. It lit the way to the refuge. She was running now, mud and water staining her leather sandles and light-colored pants. Hunger enveloped her once more. The bread crust had done little in means of nutrition. Upon reaching the doors, she slammed her fists upon them, pounding with all her might, hoping someone would open it. Her energy expended, she slumped to the ground, about ready to give up on the world. Footsteps sounded inside, some voices, and the shuffle of feet. Slowly, the door opened a crack and a strange voice enquired her. All she could do was grunt. A male Nikitak reached down with his front two arms and picked her up, pulling her inside to warmth and sustinence. The ripping of metal unnaturally, along with the flare of an explosion and the destruction brought with it, sounded through the speakers. She was back in a conscious state now. Who had died? Jet? No... can't be happening... not another hope lost... Several of the beings that bet were throwing their tickets on the ground and stomping on them. The speakers had reported that some Hekshanian had died... but it wasn't Jet. Phew. Hope still lives. The mines were full of holes as it was. Jet didn't need to add to its collection. He needed to win. Just win. Not too hard, right? After all, he isn't dead yet... Kael realized she was standing up now, shifting between her feet. Her ticket had become twisted as she wrenched her hands in nervous habit. This race could hold her future... another day bumming for food, or a night dining at some elegant restaurant? The announcers' voices droned out as she daydreamed about what she could have someday, her lucky day, and she sat down. Jet, if you help one person, help me... (C) 2000 Dann Erikson AKA Kael |
