Jedi Gali

STARS He tried to run. Once, back home, he would have flown. Now, he stumbled, scrambling furiously over the mountain of small rocks. He slipped once on a patch of yellow and landed hard on his stomach. A spiky rock missed penetrating his skull by a mere finger. He would have thanked the gods, but he couldn’t think about anything but running. And he ran. He ran till he could hear nothing but the pounding of his own feet, the gasping of his own breath. He ran till the sound of the waves swallowed the shouting of the men behind him. He wanted to stop and collapse till he could finally breathe again. But he kept running, mechanically, until he left the never-ending well of water behind him and was deep within the high walls of stone. Then his legs gave way. He lied there beside the sandy path, half-covered in a tangle of greenery. His chest heaved, and his legs trembled. The sun shone weakly down upon him, its feeble rays failing to warm his body as the damp cold wind grew stronger. He licked his parched lips and reached for the water sack he attached to the rope cord about his waist. Thankfully, water was plentiful here. Warmth proved more difficult to find. And without it, the man would die. He grasped at the vines embedded in the rock wall, pulling himself to his feet. The wind fought his every stride and beat against his chest. These were strong, but he had felt worse in his homeland. They were fearsome golden windstorms, stirring up the sand and blinding everyone within their paths. But there, men’s homes were stronger, their eyes sharper. He finally reached the makeshift hut tucked into the side of the rock. The interior of the shelter was protected on three sides by stone. One blanket stretched over the top, and a second served as a rug on the hard, rocky ground. The man lay on the blanket, his eyes staring blankly and his mind wandering on sands a desert away. His skin was warm but no longer blazing like a small fire. Perhaps the man would see his children again. He held the water pouch out. “Water,” he said softly. The man didn’t seem to hear him. “Water,” he repeated, louder, as he dangled it by the man’s head. When the man didn’t respond, he set the pouch on the ground. Then, taking a deep breath, he slowly un-wrapped the strip of cloth from the man’s foot. The gaping wound a finger long was still oozing a foul-smelling yellow pus. He grimaced as he examined it. If anything, it looked as though the purplish red area around the wound had grown larger. He wished he could heal the man, but he was young. He could only care for his camel’s wounds as they journeyed to the villages. Perhaps his mother or one of the healers from his homeland could have drawn out the poisons that snaked their way through the man’s body. And even they might not have known which were the healing leaves or roots in this plant-laden land. After pouring water over the wound, he rewrapped it in a fresh strip of cloth and began to prepare the evening fire. He made it a small fire, as he was taught. His grandfather repeatedly said a cold man was never warmed by a large fire – he was too afraid of being burned alive to crouch close to the life-giving flames. Darkness settled quickly, hanging heavily over the night like a black fog. He longed for a glimpse of the stars, but the evil men could recapture him if he ventured out. He jerked alert at the sound from the makeshift tent. The man’s breathing was loud. The air fought to leave his mouth with a wheezing struggle. For once, his eyes were sharp. His gaze was alert. The man grabbed onto his hand, and his grip was strong. “Tell them.” He started at the words. This was the first the man had said in days. “My son is a strong man. His body is strong. And his heart is strong.” Pride drowned out the pain in his eyes. “And my daughters…They are beautiful, as their mother was.” He gasped for another breath. “Her eyes, like the stars. Tell them.” He leaned close as the man’s voice grew softer. “What do you wish I tell them?” The man’s grip tightened, and the longing in his face increased. “Tell them.” He felt a pang of hurt for this man he met on the ship. He hurt for the man, for his son and daughters whose father was stolen from them. The man drew another breath, painfully. “I – I will see them. Tell them.” He squeezed the man’s hand and pressed it to his strong chest. “On my life.” The man’s eyes were shining. “I will.” His words were faint. He hurt for the man who would never see the stars again. “I –” the man’s voice broke. He held his breath. “I am coming home.” And all was silent. **** -JG

Member Name: Jedi Gali Theme: Sunset Word Count: 835 Link: http://www.bzpower.com/board/index.php?showtopic=10040]PB & J[/url] -JG

PB & J Matt was crushed. His friends told him had a flair for the dramatic, but this time, he was not exaggerating. His heart, crushed. His happiness, crushed. His mind, crushed. His body, crushed. Well, maybe not his body. That would be unfortunate. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” Ryan slapped him across the shoulder as he swaggered by. The guy could never simply walk, could he? Matt gave his best grin. “Great, just fantastic.” “You sure?” His mouth was concerned, but his eyes were laughing. “Thought I saw you had a spill on the waves out there.” Matt wanted to punch him. He didn’t. “Yeah, fine.” “Let me know if you need any help, all right?” The lifeguard punched him again, this time on the opposite shoulder. “I’m getting on the stand now.” As soon as Ryan continued his strut to the lifeguard stand, Matt stomped off, sand puffing up in little white clouds with each step. That guy. On top of everything else… He stopped himself from muttering a few appropriate curses as a family tramped onto the beach and crossed his path, lugging their cooler, chairs, umbrella, and buckets full of plastic toys. He could have moved around the train of people, but his muscles were too sore for him to be overexerting them. So he waited. For all he knew, it could have been a railroad crossing. The twin red-headed boys galloped ahead, yelling about finding sharks. Then the pregnant mother and a swarm of elementary-aged girls inched along, squealing something unintelligible. A toddler boy came tripping along next. A beautiful girl with golden hair and freckles speckling her arms held the little boy’s hand. Matt didn’t stare. They moved by too quickly for that. So he ambled closer to the water, his surfboard tucked underneath his arm, and plopped down onto the sand. As he closed his eyes and lay his head down, he felt the late afternoon sun baking his skin. He knew he’d wake up looking like a lobster, but he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t believe his misfortune. He had been sitting on the beach after his humiliating fall on the waves, minding his own business. His delicious roast beef and provolone sandwich on a hoagie roll was on the sand, just waiting for him. So he waited till his hands dried, unwrapped the perfect specimen, and opened his mouth to sink his teeth into that delicious sandwich. Then it was gone. Quick as lighting, the evil gull darted in, snagged his entire sandwich, and flew out. Matt’s stomach rumbled. He was so hungry he could have eaten a cow. Well, if he couldn’t eat, he might as well sleep. **** The scream jerked him awake. His eyes flew open, and he jumped to his feet. He instantly saw two heads in the water, disappearing and reappearing. A quick glance at the lifeguard stand revealed it to be empty. Ryan was already in the water, his arms cutting through the choppy waves like butter. At least he was doing his job. Matt watched for a few seconds before he realized the kids were panicking. Ryan couldn’t do it alone. Matt leapt in. He was on swim team at school, but none of that mattered now. He reached them in fourteen strokes. The two red-headed boys were kicking and flailing their limbs in every possible direction. The ‘rescue’, if that’s what it was called, was a blur. Matt just knew he somehow got back to shore, a five-year-old boy in tow. Miraculously, the boy hadn’t strangled him in the process. His mother scooped him up, and the entire family swooped around them. Matt got lost somewhere in the fringes of the circle. So he strolled a little farther down the beach and dropped down to the sand. He wasn’t much of an artist, but the sunset was pretty, a swirl of purple and orange and yellow. Suddenly his stomach let out a monstrous growl. “Shush,” he ordered. “Matt?” He turned and stared. It was the beautiful girl with the golden hair. “Are you Matt? Ryan told me that was your name,” she explained and smiled brilliantly. “Uh, yeah,” he nodded. “I wanted to say-” “You saved my life!” Matt felt a pair of chubby little arms squeezing his neck. Trying not to cough dramatically, he simply extricated himself from the clutches of the boy. “Yeah, kid,” he said, awkwardly. “How about making a huge sand fort with your brother now?” The boy’s eyes grew huge. “Jeremy!” He yelled, running off. “That fort will be bigger than the beach,” the girl said seriously, her brown twinkling. “Thank you.” She sat down next to him. “Well, you’re welcome.” Matt didn’t know what else to say. “Oh, want a sandwich? My mom made too many.” Without waiting for him to accept it, she handed him a sandwich. “Sorry. It’s only PB and J.” Matt looked at the sandwich, then at the sunset, and then back at the girl. He was a whole man again. ***** -JG

Your description of the Tohunga's slow but sure transformation of mind and purpose was... eerie. But beautifully written. Beautifully haunting. Well done. -JG

This may sound strange, but I feel I didn't picture them much at all...They were always such living characters for me. Perhaps, they had too vibrant of personalities for me to put a mask on them. I'm just brainstorming now, but that may have been due to Farshtey's writing being heavily action and dialogue based. He didn't mentioned the physical aspects as much. Of course, correct me if I'm wrong there. -JG

Stuck The black mud could not have smelled worse. It couldn’t have felt worse either, warm slime mixed with weed tendrils that oozed around the ankles. Ka’lir tried to be thankful he had the good sense to put his boots in the cart a league back. If the mud had touched the shoes, he never could have cleaned the stench from the sturdy leather. As it was, he’d have to wash himself in the River before he entered the city. If he entered the city. The traders told him the way to A’bishar was smooth traveling, the River crossing being the trickiest part. They said nothing of this blasted mud! Ka’lir scowled at his caravan of carts, their once-beautiful wheels a quarter deep in mud. How in the pits was he going to restore them to their previous luster, let alone clean them well enough to be sold tomorrow? And what would his father say? Ka’lir imagined the crotchety old man, his enormous white brows furrowed in anger as he shook his saw at him. The first time I sell my carts outside of our village, you ruin them! Disgrace my name! Craft me as an idiot who’d be better off dead! Yet Ka’lir had made one of them himself. And he would be the one dragging the three mud-stained carts into one of the most renowned markets in all of Ra’oha. He’d be the laughingstock of the village. He draped the straps he’d been using to pull the carts over the high wooden front of the first. Shoving his rough woolen sleeves up past his elbows, he stepped back and studied the situation. Judging from the sun, he had already traveled all afternoon in the muck. Yet he still didn’t see an end to the waterland or whatever it was. Night was fast approaching. Yet he couldn’t stop to sleep until he pulled the cursed carts onto solid ground, a place where he could lay out his blanket roll and fix a small fire. Here, he was stuck. He could only continue on. The straps firmly affixed around his shoulders, he took another step. And then another. And another. Walking became easier, he found as he settled into some sort of a rhythm. It helped if he didn’t think about it too much. His stomach rumbled, and he wistfully imagined the fried beef and potatoes in the large brownstone bowl on the table at home. The soft mealy potatoes soaking up the savory beef juices. And perhaps a great mug of cold milk. He could see Mother covering the food with a cloth until Father came in after finishing the evening chores. Then Mother would ask him how hoeing the garden dirtied his face so much, and he’d splash icy water from the washbasin onto his dirt-covered cheeks. He would smear it around until Mother came and gently wiped his face clean with a rough cloth. At least, that was true until Mother died from the fever and Father sold the farm. Every last pace of land, every gentle wheat-covered slope was gone. The small gray cottage, with its windows’ white curtains waving in the summer breeze, was gone. His home was gone, traded for countless cures meant to heal the fever, not steal his mother’s last breaths. Perhaps it was better to think about the mud after all. He continued on. **** -JG

My sibs, Israeli Toa and The White Lady. They're pretty cool. -JG

It's a toss-up between a Ga-Matoran and a Le-Matoran... would I rather live on the water or in the trees??? It's such a tough question, especially because I'm similar to both in personality. A Legatoran. Or Galetoran. That's legitimate, right? -JG

My bro (IT) joined back in '02. I remember frequently looking over his shoulder and seeing him on the forums,,, I finally joined in '05. -JG

JG? (Look below. ) And lessee: I've called Israeli Toa 'IT' quite a bit. Exo-Fat I dubbed 'Exo', Hahli Husky was/is 'HH', Republic Commando Sev became plain 'Sev'.... I could go on, but I've only recently returned to BZP and sadly, I don't remember the names of a lot of my friends. I know, I'm terrible. -JG

Wow, what a chilling idea. A Toa betrays his brothers for money....then is turned to a beast by a twisted scientist. I'd love a back story on Evo-Morph 1, why he did all that to begin with. What is his real name? Were any of the other Toa or Matoran his friends?? Enough of my rambling about a prequel. You did a good job of explaining all the background. And I really like the plot. Very creative! I just want to learn more about your main character, Evo-Morph 1. I want to know what he's thinking and feeling. I want to see through his eyes. Keep on writing!! -JG

Name: Jedi GaliStory: Microscopes to TelescopesWow, it feels bizarre to be entering a contest.... I haven't done this in years. Best of luck to all! -JG

Microscopes to Telescopes Status Report Time: 22:03Date: 2117Location: Area 51 Test case was a partial success. Participant A12 is now functioning as designed with minimal side effects, consisting of temporary stiffness and initial memory loss. Participant A13 is functioning with the same initial stiffness. Major side effects include permanent amnesia and inhibition of muscular faculties. Participant A14- Renee Dean exited out of the report and tossed the data pad onto her desk, unable to read any more. Her stomach twisted with unease and she reached for her mug of coffee, taking a few small sips.It didn’t help much; after all, she knew full well that nothing would. Nothing could change what they were doing, despite the extensive report she had provided the government with prior to the test case.Renee wanted to curse but she noticed Dr. Tripp passing behind her so she bit back the words that threatened to spew out of her mouth. Foul language irritated the woman and she was in no mood for a confrontation.But one year! One year of her life she had spent analyzing and reanalyzing the compatibility of nerve cells with the proposed treatment. And the half a dozen plane flights to medical institutes across the nation to read hundreds of medical journals discussing the issue. She had even petitioned the government to provide her with a three million dollar grant to conduct her own, specialized research in one of the most technologically advanced labs in the world.And then there were all the headaches, the nights spent in the lab till she finally crashed on her work stool at five in the morning. That wasn’t even speaking of all the things she could have been doing with her time instead.But no, despite her negative conclusions and strong recommendations to hold off on the human testing until a chemical component could be developed to counteract or alter the dendrites of the nerve cells, making them compatible with treatment, the government pushed forward.Renee wasn’t the type of person to be bitter, especially since she was a government consultant and not the project manager. It wasn’t her shot to call. And so if the test had been successful, she would have swallowed her pride and accepted the good news with as much grace as she could muster.However it wasn’t a success, no matter what the report labeled it. Permanent amnesia in even one of the test subjects was not even a ‘major side effect’; it was a disaster! Normally, she would have rested assured that the government would shelf the research for now. But their labeling of the test outcome as a ‘partial’ success ominously hinted that they may not yet be finished.“Doctor Dean?”Swiveling in her chair, Renee fixed a polite expression on her face and looked at Katrina expectantly. “Yes?”“I have a call for you on line two,” the office assistant informed her, tugging at her too-tight sweater.“Thank you,” she responded, reaching for the screen controls. “And can you shut the door?” But the woman had already left.Renee heaved a sigh. This was the third office assistant the Baltimore branch of Zenith Consulting Services had hired in the past six months and they’d yet to find anyone qualified. She switched on the screen mounted on the opposite wall and accepted the call.“Good evening, doctor.”Renee shook her head hopelessly at the white-blond figure before her. No matter the occasion, he always greeted her as ‘doctor’. And every time, that same greeting sent her stomach fluttering. “Good evening, Erik.”“How are things in the city?” Erik asked, as usual, as he unbuttoned his lab coat and laid it gently on what looked like a black table.As much as she wanted to unload all of her frustrations, and, and downright concerns onto him, she refrained herself. The man looked even more tired than he usually did, his crystal blue eyes rimmed in circles of gray.“You know, the usual,” Renee said with a shrug. “Just a lot of work. Endless stacks of reports to review.” “Usual?” He asked bemusedly.Though she knew he didn’t believe her façade, she attempted once more to distract him from a subject she didn’t think she could speak of without screaming. “Your usual is a lot more exciting than my usual.Erik raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the issue and question her further. “Not always. After nine hours of staring into a microscope, it all begins to look the same.”Renee gave him a pointed look. “Don’t give me that. I don’t think all the chemical research you’ve been conducting and the medicines you’ve been developing can be classified as boring.”“Can, can we not talk about work?” Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he took a deep breath. “Have you seen Taylor lately?”Erik wasn’t just tired. When he was sleep-deprived, he became quiet and only slightly moody. But now… he was somewhat irritable. Something was wrong. And besides, why would he ask about Taylor? He didn’t like her sister. Though he didn’t ever say anything like that, she noticed his cool withdrawal from the conversation whenever Taylor arrived.She realized she still hadn’t responded. “No, not really. She’s been working a lot, started her position as a manager.”“Who?”Renee cocked her head at him in bewilderment. “Taylor. My sister. You just asked about her.”“I’m sorry, Renee, I just have a lot-” He stopped as someone in the room handed him a sheet of paper. After a moment, his mouth opened slightly and his face whitened. “Can I call you later? I’m so sorry.”There was a click and then the screen became blank. She could only stare dumbfounded at the blackness, a mixture of annoyance and concern filling her. But the more she thought about his behavior, any irritation was swallowed up by worry. Erik didn’t act like this without reason.****“Dr. Dean, did you want me to finish the report?”Renee didn’t even glance up from the microscope. “Yes.” Maneuvering the control stick, she changed her focus to a new quadrant. Either she counted incorrectly or there wasn’t a single mitochondria in any of these cells. It was bizarre, and, and disturbing.“And Dr. Dean?”She sighed as the interruption made her lose her count for what felt the tenth time today. “What?” She snapped as she removed her eye goggles and set them down on the lab table.“There’s a meeting in the conference room,” Katrina said casually. “Immediately.”Strange. The only meetings they ever had were ones she knew about several weeks in advance. But they were never anything so impromptu. She wryly wondered whether the government was suing Zenith Consulting Services because she somehow didn’t adequately explain to them the dangers of their testing.However, the moment she stepped through the glass double doors and then sat down, her stomach began churning. There was a packet in front of every doctor, each stamped with a bright red “Classified. Program Eyes Only.”Dr. Rosen barely waited for everyone to get settle before he stood up. “H9B2. If you’ll open your packets, you can read it for yourself. But right now the government is pressing for immediacy.”The government was pressing for immediacy? Renee felt her mouth go dry. It couldn’t be about the testing; that wasn’t possible. After all they began testing only four days ago.”“-an extremely lethal and air-born virus. The virus remains dormant for up to a week, after which the victim begins to show symptoms. It was brought onto Earth a year ago by the U.S.S. Bentley, where one of the crew contracted it on one of the inner rim planets. Somehow it penetrated the vac-suit. But they managed to contain the virus; the only ones affected were those onboard.”“If they contained it, why are we worrying about it now?” Dr. Valdez interjected.Dr. Rosen pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “They never knew which planet it came from, and there were still two exploratory vessels in the region that would eventually make their way to Earth.”“But the United States screens all inbound ships from our off-planet docking station before they’re allowed to land,” Dr. Tripp commented. “It shouldn’t be an issue.”“Not all nations adhere to the same strict standards as the United States. But regardless, in its dormant stage, the virus is nearly impossible to detect. Within seven days, the victim could have traveled to a hundred stores and infected a thousand people.”“What are you saying?” Renee finally couldn’t help but ask.Dr. Rosen touched his glasses again, even though they hadn’t slid down his nose. “I’m saying it’s here. The H9B2 is on Earth.”Renee caught her breath. She had expected something bad but nothing like this.“The government has been researching for the past year, trying to find a cure or treatment that might destroy it. But they’ve found nothing,” Dr. Rosen took a deep breath. “The only option is to run.”What was the man saying? Run a triathlon? Run to the store?“The government is prepared to commence a strategic evacuation of the entire nation to the one inner rim planet they know isn’t contaminated with the virus.”Dr. Tripp shook her head, her silky dark hair falling into her face. “That isn’t possible. We have yet to discover a planet that can support human life.”“Human life,” Dr. Rosen corrected. “The government has developed a high risk procedure…treatment that essentially infuses chemically altered metals into the bloodstream. These metals are compatible with biological cells and fuse together. And Zenith Consulting Services happens to be one of only a dozen labs equipped with the staff and facilities to administer this treatment.”Renee’s heart stopped. She couldn’t think. High risk procedure…. Fusion of metals and biological cells...She had spent the last year of her life researching the adverse neural effects of a treatment. A treatment that was the only hope of the human race.****Renee blinked. One week ago, she could never have imagined that she would have injected over three hundred people with a metallurgical-chemical treatment and then sent them to be shut into vac-tubes to be transported to a different planet. One week ago, she wouldn’t have imagined that she would have to be injected with the same treatment and then shipped off to some planet labeled ‘B’ in a vessel that once transported power to millions of homes.The days and nights had run together into one long blur. She hadn’t seen the sun in at least four days and she didn’t even know if she had the energy to lift her arm and administer the treatment even once more. It was all too impossible to fathom, and even if she could’ve fathomed it, she hadn’t been given a moment alone to think.And Erik… she hadn’t been allowed to call him. She hadn’t been able to see his beautiful blue eyes and hear his voice-“Dr. Dean, please lie down.”Her heart thumping wildly, she slowly lowered herself onto one of the tables.“Doctor, I have an incoming call, a Doctor Erik Kopaka, for Renee Dean. Can she take it?”Renee sat up in a flash. “Dr. Valdez, a moment?”Dr. Valdez hesitated as his fingers worked to attach a foot-long needle to an IV.“Please, Antonio?” Renee would have begged. She would have done anything to be able to speak with Erik.“One minute.”A surge of adrenaline course through her body and she snatched the portable call-screen away and flipped it on. “Erik?”Erik appeared, his white-blond hair disheveled and his eyes mirroring the exhaustion she felt. “Hello, doctor.”Still, the same greeting. Renee wanted to cry. But she managed a smile. “Hello, sir. I, I assume they’ve been using your lab for the administrations as well.”“Renee…” Erik had never looked so distressed.“What?”He squeezed his hands together. “I did it. I developed the treatment.”Renee heard the words, but they didn’t yet click in her mind. That couldn’t be right. Erik would have told her about the virus. He wouldn’t have kept it from her.“I couldn’t tell a soul. Our, our conversations are always monitored. They wanted to avoid a panic.” Cool, calm Erik was falling in pieces. “I’m sorry, Renee. I’m sorry.”Her stomach twisted into horrible knots as she watched a tear slide down his cheek. No, she couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t. “It’s not your fault.”“I’m sorry,” he repeated.“Stop it!” She couldn’t stop her own tears from coming. Though she heard Dr. Valdez re-enter the room she didn’t care. “I, I love you.”Erik wiped the single tear aside, but the heartache in his eyes didn’t leave. “I love you, too, doctor.”****Transport 127Name: U.S.S. Baltimore Zone Power (B.Z. Power)Origin: EarthDestination: BionicleVac-tubes: 4,032 END -JG

I like the header picture... very nice. It reminds me of Ko-Koro from the Mata-Nui Online Game.Now, when you say you'd like reviews, is there any work in particular you'd like commentary on? I know I was reading some of your most recent epic the other day but I haven't gotten around to commenting yet. Maybe I can get to that tonight... maybe. I'm notoriously slow at reviewing stories. -JG

Considering the fact that I just returned to BZP after a, what? An eight-month absence? Though I might have popped in once or twice to see if I had any PMs or anything, I never posted. We'll see how long I can keep the activity up. :kaukau: -JG

Hey there, kids. Just a few minutes ago, I was taking a little break from my writing when I had the sudden urge to check out BZPower. Ever since senior year of high school, and especially now with college, good ol' BZP has been put on the back burner. I won't say 'no longer' since that would be lying. Though I may pop in here and there (maybe review a story or two, enter a contest), I'm going to remain rather ghost-like as I work on some personal projects... projects of the writing variety. As much as I'd like to write a random comedy or SS, I have some other stories to focus on. It makes me nostalgic, really, as I look at the Epics forum or scan through some of my old epics... But, for right now, I'm moving on. No, this isn't goodbye. Just, I'll see you every once in a while. Message me if you like. -JG P.S. Wow, it's amazing how I did my sign-off so automatically, even though it's been a few months.....

Haha, I'm far worse that you are... as you can see. Yay! I know I love being able to picture exactly what's going on... Yah, I know... it wasn't really designed to be a plot-based story, rather I wanted to focus on the character. And even Kel didn't know why he disappeared, which is part of what made it so hard for her. Then my goal was accomplished! Apparently since all of my stories were depressing, my friend told me I had to write something happier. But that's the only one.Hmm...I think I see what you mean.But thank you so much, Grant!!! I really appreciate you taking the time to read this and review it!! -JG

Eep, a new contest!! I'm so tempted to enter... even though I really don't have time. *Sigh* Decisions. -JG