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Travels |
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paraboxer Member
since 2002-11-10
Posts 121Maryland, USA |
Traveler 2145: The man walked with slow deliberate steps as he waited out the four hours for the boarding call for the aircraft at Buenos Aires International Airport. He was a compact fellow, standing just over five feet, seven inches tall, with his short black hair cropped in a neatly military fashion complemented by small, intense black eyes. His skin was suntanned dark from long days in the South American sun. After nine years of travel he was finally ready to return. It had been a long, hard nine years since his wanderings and travels had commenced, bringing him to many an exotic and far away locale. Finally he was ready to return and start a new life. No longer would he be running from the circumstances that had driven this nine year odyssey. He was twenty-nine years old on this day September 19, 2145, nine years to the day he severed all his ties to his previous life. He was wearing relatively nondescript clothing, a pair of blue jeans, a sand brown button down shirt with the top button unbuttoned, and a dark blue light jacket. A balding man in his late thirties walked up to him and asked, “This seat taken?” “No.” the man replied, as he went staring out at the terminal. “Thanks.” The older man said, “Les Anciens.” At this the younger man turned, “Les Anciens?” “Oui monsieur.” The older man replied, “What unit were you with?” “The 13e Half Brigade, from 2136 to 2141.” The younger replied. “I was in the 2e Foreign Infantry from 2120 to 2130 before I blew out my knee and was medically discharged. Oh where are my manners, Aaron Werner.” “Arnot Biegard.” The younger man replied. “Pleased to meet you Monsieur Biegard.” Werner replied, “May I ask why you joined?” “Personal reasons, Monsieur Werner.” Arnot replied, he glanced at the balding fellow in his late thirties wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. “Ah, the catchall reason for joining, Monsieur Biegard.” Aaron replied. “What are you doing in Buenos Aires?” Arnot replied. “Waiting for my flight, I was helping refugees fleeing the Biohazard in Northern South America for four years. And you?” Aaron replied. “I was serving with the 3rd Special Forces Group.” Arnot replied, “I joined the Army after my contract with the Legion expired in 2141.” “Why on Earth did you do that?” Aaron replied. “Again, personal reasons, I’d done my part with the legion, we parted ways and I needed to do more for my nation in times of war.” Arnot replied. “Touché,” Aaron replied, “The naïve patriot, I thought they’d iron that out of a man in the legion. Apparently you’re running from something.” A song began to play, a timeless piece, over a speaker system. It was one that spoke to both men, leaving them alone with their thoughts. It was called Lili Marlene, and though the song was over two hundred years old, its haunting lyrics still had meaning of a soldier pining for his far off love. A young Latina knockout named Annette Maria-Chavez, an up and coming young singer, had brought Lili Marlene back onto the charts. “Well monsieur, I’ve got some time to kill, I’m off to get some food.” Aaron replied. Arnot pulled out a picture from his pocket, one that had been kept on his person for the past nine years. She was a beauty, slim figured, dark haired with rich brown eyes and a ruddy complexion. Her beauty was entirely natural, nothing forced or artificial about it. As the song Lili Marlene continued to play, Arnot began to let his mind wander back the nine years. Sure, she was nineteen in this picture, but it was nine years old. She was twenty-eight now, and very likely beautiful as ever but also married with children. He sighed to himself, briefly considering changing the ticket to another destination other than where it was originally intended, but he knew he had to stick it out. A short blonde woman who had been sitting to his right while trying to calm a fidgety two year old suddenly spoke. “Pretty lady.” Arnot tucked the photograph back into his shirt pocket, chagrined someone had been watching. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice. She’s quite lovely. Your niece?” “No, she’s a friend of mine, this picture’s a tad dated.” Arnot replied, trying to be civil. “Must be an old picture.” The woman said. “It is.” Arnot replied, trying to end the conversation as quickly as he could. Indeed the picture was nearly over a decade old, but the bittersweet memories associated with it were as fresh as the moment the snapshot was taken. The woman gave him the knowing look he always detested but also seemed drawn towards, “You know what they say, it’s better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all.” “Try it and see.” Arnot replied, more than mildly annoyed now, but not wanting to upset the child. He kept his tone even and calm. “Amazing, so did she ever get married or anything?” the woman asked, “Jordan Reims, I’m a graduate psychology student, I was working with refugees in Argentina these past few years.” “Arnot Biegard. I was fighting the forces that your refugees were fleeing from.” Jordan replied. “Really, what unit were you in?” Jordan asked. “I served in the 3rd Special Forces Group from 2141-2145, I volunteered right out of boot camp.” Arnot replied, “A man can volunteer at any time for the Special Forces, but approximately seventy percent of every Selection course washes out. Two in four men going through quit. But I had five years of preparation.” “I know all that.” Jordan replied, “My husband, Don, was with the 19th Territorial Special Forces before the war and when it broke out and they called him out, they sent him into the 9th SFG in North Africa.” “Really, which squadron?” Arnot asked. “He was in A Squadron, Mobility Troop.” Jordan replied, “You?” “I was in G Squadron, Boat Troop.” Arnot replied. “You said you had five years of preparation, what were they?” Jordan asked. “I spent five years with the Legion Etrangere.” Arnot replied, with a proud grin. He rolled up his sleeve and on his left forearm was a small black seven flamed grenade, the symbol of the Colonial Legion. “I would think that someone who had just spent five years in the Legion wouldn’t want anything more to do with the military.” Jordan replied, “It’s connected to the girl in the picture, isn’t it?” “It is.” Arnot replied. “Take it or leave it, but maybe if you talked about your problem you could get it off your chest.” Jordan replied. “Hey Jordan,” said Aaron, “Oh, I see you’ve met my friend here.” “Yes I did.” Jordan replied, “Aaron and I worked together at the refugee camp.” “Doctor?” Arnot asked. “No, I work as a publisher in San Francisco.” Aaron replied, “Jordan and I met at the camp.” “So anyway,” Jordan said, “Why did you join the Legion? I’m guessing you were running away from something.” “You could say that.” Arnot began, and with a sigh that told of nine years of angst and pain “Very well, I will tell you just a little as to what drew me to first commit five years of my life to a force that garrisons Earth’s most distant outposts. Then following those five years, what lead me to commit more years of my life with the United Systems Army in one of the most intense combat zones on the Earth.” ~ ~ ~ ~ Coming next: What exactly was Arnot fleeing from nine years ago? What are the reasons behind his long travels? I’ll add more chapters if I am reviewed, no use working on a story that apparently isn’t read. |
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aussie teen Member
since 2003-09-27
Posts 396Australia |
this is an interesting story...... seems to be about you and your lili malrne only set in the future...... i like it though.... hope the writing is helping with the feelings you are feeling and help with the pain.... if no one else is going to bother replying to this excelent work you can email the following parts to me.... its on my profile... feel free to have a look.. Mel this is me.... like it or not.... |
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Brad Majors 
since 2001-04-03
Posts 2647Georgia |
Very interesting story |
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