Friday, April 24, 2015

Story Seed - Getaway

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I vaulted through the window, flipping through the air to orient my feet to the ground. Behind me I could hear the reports of the caster rifles. The bolts of magnetized plasma failed to hit me, instead breaking on the wall of hard light I'd projected. It wouldn't last long, but it got me out the window safely. I watched the ground rush toward me and grasped the crystal interface of my SLiP. The Solid Light Projector linked to my cortex implants faster than thought and I willed a new projection into being, a series of horizontal planes, each just a little thicker than the last, each invested with slightly greater hardness.

I also prayed I was half as good as I claimed.

My feet hit the first plane and I did my best to flex my knees just enough to take up the jolt. The plane burst, flinging motes of hard light that sublimated into flashes of stay color. I kept falling, my feet slapping into the successive planes, my knees grousing in protest at each impact.  Plane after plane shattered, breaking apart into starbursts that twinkled like sparks as I plummeted through them. At each impact I was move slightly slower, my constructs flexed a little more before breaking, and I got closer to the stone and cobble floor of the alley below.

My boots pierced the last of the planes and I dropped the final five feet to the ground with little more speed than if I had jumped from a high stone. I landed in a crouch as sprites decomposed around me. Above the guards were at the window, bringing their casters to bear, the ruddy red glow of plasma already coalescing at their tips. I patted the small satchel slung close to my chest; the thinking machine was still tucked safely there.

With barely a second thought I wrapped myself in a cloak of light. Slightly hardened, it would hopefully turn aside any lucky shots, importantly this shroud projected an image around me; optical camouflage of the highest quality a thief could buy. I took off at a run, not wanting to find out if they had non-optic sensory upgrades. My feet pounding on the uneven paving stones, I made good my escape, clutching my prize to my chest.

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