Ah, the overactive mind! Arguably, some might consider it a blessing, enabling one to carefully contemplate a plan’s options before it’s executed; a way to churn over a particular problem so that a solution could be found; or a way to generate a bountiful array of new ideas that build off of one another. It may have its benefits, yes, but on the other hand, there were downsides when it could never really be controlled. You become greatly distracted, unable to focus on a particular topic; other work might suffer; and sometimes you find yourself laying there in bed on a sleepless night.
Alakantar was experiencing the latter; his mind was a constantly spinning whirl of ideas, thoughts, and concerns. He thought about his work as governor of the Grummian Martian colony – it always seemed that new problems were cropping up, from overcrowding to the growing need for additional agriculture on the mainland to strange fractal issues that had been cropping up across the planet. He also thought about his father’s recent death, which he had found it difficult to get used to. It was strange to expect that weekly phone call from him, but when that day arrived, the phone never rang. Alak was gradually coming to terms with it, but still, there were these little reminders all over the place, these little rituals that he had been doing for years now that no longer could happen.
It seemed that his mind never really slowed down, even at night, and even when he was tired. It led to many nights such as this, to the point where he barely got enough restful sleep and, as a result, generally felt awful during the day. But that was not an easy problem to solve or one that could be solved at all. His job was the primary cause of all of this stress, but that wasn’t something that could just be dropped. He had a responsibility to his people, the city, and his mother to do the best job he could.
Sighing, Alak gently squeezed his fiancée, Arielle, against himself, his dark drow arms greatly contrasting with her light roanian skin. He hated having to get up to do something else, to perhaps do something that would keep his mind from worrying until he was utterly exhausted, but laying here in bed wasn’t helping. Aggravated, he pulled himself up out of bed and onto his feet, causing Arielle to stir.
“Mrmhmmm?” she mumbled still half-asleep. “Going to work again?” That was less of a question and more of a statement, since she was well aware of his frequent tendency to do this in the middle of the night.
“Yeah…” Alak whispered, sighing again. “Got a few reports I need to review. I’ll be back in a little while. I promise.”
He leaned over and kissed her, before she rolled back over to head off into peaceful slumber and he donned his robe; the drow then made his way out of the apartment, down the elevator several floors to his office.
⁂
Over a thousand feet below Alak and Arielle’s apartment, underneath the so called “ground-level” of the floating city, those manning Central Operations were beginning to perform their monthly maintenance routine on the five large planetary defense gun turrets that were located on each of the “arms” of the city. These tests tended to take place at the middle of the night, for there were less people running about in the event something went wrong and less things happening around the city and out in the water, such as air and sea traffic.
“Number Four, Position Mike November Tango One,” the commander stated calmly, breaking the silence in the room.
The weapons specialist repeated verbatim what her commanding officer stated and started tapping out the commands into the computer console. A digital representation appeared on her screen and his, outlining the position of the south western turret on the vertical and horizontal planes and various statuses like power level, temperature, and others. The numbers then proceeded to change according to the positioning entered into the system, the turret traversing to position it away from hitting the maglev system beneath it and the other city a few hundred kilometers off in the distance, and elevating it to prevent it from going aimlessly off into space or hitting the ocean right next to the city.
“Number Four, Position Mike November Tango One. Traverse: Two Hundred. Elevation: Ninety Five.
The commander nodded after he checked to see if the positioning was correct. “Number Four, position confirmed,” and then he stated. “Number Four, Full Power.”
The same was repeated back to him, as the power output on the display for that particular turret increased to one-hundred percent, and outside the weapon itself began to hum and glow with the energy pulsing through it. That was held for thirty seconds before the commander issued another order.
“Number Four, Ten Percent Power.”
That command was confirmed yet again as the displays numbers gradually decreased down to that particular threshold, and outside the weapon became silent, not readily appearing that it was in any position to fire.
“Number Four, Fire.”
A bright pulse of light burst across the dark Martian sky as the weapon channeled its energy out onto the empty ocean, far away from anyone and anything that might have happened to wander into its path. Out there, it struck the surface, blowing a column of water a hundred feet into the sky.
⁂
Sitting in his office, examining the reports that outlaid the need for yet another city expansion, the renovations that would result from it, and the downsides to not implementing it, Alak took note of the weapon firing and glanced over at the clock. 1 a.m. Right on time. He then noticed a pile of papers strewn out across a side table. Samples of wedding invitations, brochures from the various venues he and Arielle had considered, and even some possible caterers.
That had been something that he was having issues getting around to doing. They had been engaged for a few years now, but it always seemed that something would come up that would disturb their plans – from problems on Mars, to Calavyr’s meddling, to his father’s death, to, now, his busy work schedule. Nothing ever seemed like it was coming together no matter how much he tried.
Every day he would probably spend around fifteen hours working, then would head back to his apartment to only have a short amount of time before having to crash into bed to start up the next day. And even then, if he didn’t get enough sleep, the last thing he wanted to focus his waning energy on was a wedding. He needed a much clearer mind for that.
“Dad, what would you do?” he asked aloud, gazing over at a picture of his family from happier times, sitting over on the corner of his desk.
⁂
“Number One…” the commander called out, and thus began the next phase of the weapons testing for the northernmost turret with the same procedure that was followed for the prior one.
However, this time would be different as the weapon eventually reached the point where it was to be test fired.
⁂
The powerful burst of energy shredded through several commercial and residential towers in its path like paper, not stopped in the slightest by the light armoring that had been built into them. Anything directly on the floors where it struck were blown out, immediately melting the supporting columns and sending whatever remained above it toppling over.
The sounds of explosions rocking the city caused Alak to swing himself around in his chair, eyes widening, as building after building collapsed before him, and then he realized that his was next. He barely had time to react before the beam slammed into the floors above him, instantly incinerating anything that wasn’t metal and blowing a hole right through the center of the tower.
Shockwaves shattered the office windows, propelling him from his seat as metal and glass fragments tore through his office. He had a brief moment of consciousness as the side of his body had managed to bear the brunt of the blast, incredible agony seeming to engulf him as bones cracked and skin burned, before another blast knocked into him again, causing numbness and then nothing. The walls on the floors above him, unable to hold the weight, buckled as the upper portion of the tower tilted over, snapping and sending it crashing into the city below.
⁂
“Shut it down! Shut it down, now!” the commander shouted to the weapons specialist as claxons pierced their ears, sounding throughout the room and the city. The turret’s power conduits were then severed, shutting it down completely and sealing it off from the areas around it, preventing whatever malfunction it contained from causing further harm either by it overloading or continuing its path of destruction. The screens in the command center turned blood red and displayed across the outlined representations of the buildings that were damaged or destroyed as reports were transmitted from the sensors inlaid in every structure. Fire suppression systems quickly kicked into place, in areas where the piping remained undamaged, soaking the fires with filtered seawater pumped in. The fire departments had been rapidly notified of damaged areas, what rubble might be blocking their paths, and where they were most needed.
Beyond the city of Valacirca, the remaining five floating cities swiftly went into lockdown mode as the maglevs were shut down and severed from one another and the rest of the system. Blast doors slammed shut across every building and windows were sealed with armor plated shutters. The shields over and under each city powered up, providing protection against whatever threat might have been out there that caused this disaster, if any. And lastly, their defense turrets moved into position, their barrels ready to fire at anyone or anything who dared approach the cities.
OOC: This is pretty much open to Mars residents, allies, and other related folks. If you have any questions, feel free to TG me. Also, I'm planning on posting in here at least once a week, perhaps more, if the situation warrants it.
