Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale - the result!
Oct. 9th, 2007 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
martinlivingsHere we go. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angriest (falling into the sun), shrydar (Shibari) and purrdence (Totoro) for the suggestions!
Icarus Unbound
(c) Martin Livings 2007
Falling.
Leonard's head was spinning, mainly thanks to the rapid rotation he was experiencing as he fell. His space suit, an antique cosmonaut issue from the early twenty second century, was making a disconcerting series of cracks and pings. It was designed to keep the heat in, not out. Thankfully, the auto-polarising visor kept his eyes from being burned clean out of their sockets each time the sun swung into view, filling his field of vision with its fiery surface. Each time it was a little closer, though he had no real way of telling how close.
Worse, though, was the pain in his shoulders and thighs. His arms and legs were pulled tight behind his back, the wrists and ankles crossed and tied with diamond filament cables. All but indestructible, Akiko had assured him as she'd fastened them, just minutes earlier, though it felt like hours.
Why had he agreed to this? I mean, six months onboard a close orbit solar research station was boring, sure, but was he really that bored? But he knew better. He'd been attracted to Akiko since they'd met back in training on Earth, long before their trip to the sun. They'd bonded over a mutual love of Miyasake animations from the late twentieth century, the crude hand-drawn style appealing to them both. He remembered the night they'd watched "Totoro" together on the couch in his room, small enough to force them to sit against each other. He'd treasured that tiny intimacy.
He had no idea what she was really like. He was only appreciating it now.
How long? The chronometer on his HUD had failed some time earlier, the electronics fried in the intense heat and radiation. He was sweating heavily. He tried to do some basic mental calculations; the Marshmallow station was situated some three million kilometers from the surface of the sun, held in place by a massive diamond cable run from a fusion-powered spacecraft another three million clicks away. Given the sun's huge gravitational field, he should be...
No, he couldn't think straight. Not enough blood was getting to his brain, thanks to the position Akiko had tied him in. She'd suggested it one night after a lot of alcohol had been imbibed, and for no good reason other than his own infatuation, he'd agreed to it. He thought she'd forgotten the next day, and the day after that, but a week later she invited him to the sunside airlock. There, she'd shown him the Shibari setup she'd created. It had taken her the entire week, apparently.
It took minutes to truss him up, then attach him to the winch. The diamond filament cable was designed to lower instruments into the outer reaches of the sun. But she had quite a different idea for it.
At first Leonard had been terrified. Legs and arms behind him, pain screaming in his muscles, all he could see was the roiling surface of the sun beneath him, the gravity giving the sensation of falling. Closer and closer, Akiko lowered him. She could hear her laughter in his comlink.
"This isn't funny anymore," he told her, but that just made her laugh louder.
Then something snapped, and her laughter stopped. All feeling of weight vanished.
He was falling. Falling into the sun.
He assumed it was the connection between the cables that bound him and the winch cable that had given way. They'd lost a lot of instruments that way in the last six months. It wasn't Akiko's fault. What was her fault, though, was the fact that she'd broken comms straight away. He'd screamed for her until his voice gave out, but all he got in return was static. She was most likely removing all evidence that she'd been involved. It would look like a suicide, probably.
Somehow, Leonard didn't care anymore.
The pings and cracks of his suit became more pronounced, and the metal started to melt. He knew he only had moments left. But in those last seconds, Leonard found a kind of peace, here so close to the sun, mother of the solar system, giver of life, taker of life. It seemed fair. He'd gotten himself into it.
His mother always told him that love was like a burning flame. It was inevitable that, one day, he'd get burnt.
angriest (falling into the sun), shrydar (Shibari) and purrdence (Totoro) for the suggestions!Icarus Unbound
(c) Martin Livings 2007
Falling.
Leonard's head was spinning, mainly thanks to the rapid rotation he was experiencing as he fell. His space suit, an antique cosmonaut issue from the early twenty second century, was making a disconcerting series of cracks and pings. It was designed to keep the heat in, not out. Thankfully, the auto-polarising visor kept his eyes from being burned clean out of their sockets each time the sun swung into view, filling his field of vision with its fiery surface. Each time it was a little closer, though he had no real way of telling how close.
Worse, though, was the pain in his shoulders and thighs. His arms and legs were pulled tight behind his back, the wrists and ankles crossed and tied with diamond filament cables. All but indestructible, Akiko had assured him as she'd fastened them, just minutes earlier, though it felt like hours.
Why had he agreed to this? I mean, six months onboard a close orbit solar research station was boring, sure, but was he really that bored? But he knew better. He'd been attracted to Akiko since they'd met back in training on Earth, long before their trip to the sun. They'd bonded over a mutual love of Miyasake animations from the late twentieth century, the crude hand-drawn style appealing to them both. He remembered the night they'd watched "Totoro" together on the couch in his room, small enough to force them to sit against each other. He'd treasured that tiny intimacy.
He had no idea what she was really like. He was only appreciating it now.
How long? The chronometer on his HUD had failed some time earlier, the electronics fried in the intense heat and radiation. He was sweating heavily. He tried to do some basic mental calculations; the Marshmallow station was situated some three million kilometers from the surface of the sun, held in place by a massive diamond cable run from a fusion-powered spacecraft another three million clicks away. Given the sun's huge gravitational field, he should be...
No, he couldn't think straight. Not enough blood was getting to his brain, thanks to the position Akiko had tied him in. She'd suggested it one night after a lot of alcohol had been imbibed, and for no good reason other than his own infatuation, he'd agreed to it. He thought she'd forgotten the next day, and the day after that, but a week later she invited him to the sunside airlock. There, she'd shown him the Shibari setup she'd created. It had taken her the entire week, apparently.
It took minutes to truss him up, then attach him to the winch. The diamond filament cable was designed to lower instruments into the outer reaches of the sun. But she had quite a different idea for it.
At first Leonard had been terrified. Legs and arms behind him, pain screaming in his muscles, all he could see was the roiling surface of the sun beneath him, the gravity giving the sensation of falling. Closer and closer, Akiko lowered him. She could hear her laughter in his comlink.
"This isn't funny anymore," he told her, but that just made her laugh louder.
Then something snapped, and her laughter stopped. All feeling of weight vanished.
He was falling. Falling into the sun.
He assumed it was the connection between the cables that bound him and the winch cable that had given way. They'd lost a lot of instruments that way in the last six months. It wasn't Akiko's fault. What was her fault, though, was the fact that she'd broken comms straight away. He'd screamed for her until his voice gave out, but all he got in return was static. She was most likely removing all evidence that she'd been involved. It would look like a suicide, probably.
Somehow, Leonard didn't care anymore.
The pings and cracks of his suit became more pronounced, and the metal started to melt. He knew he only had moments left. But in those last seconds, Leonard found a kind of peace, here so close to the sun, mother of the solar system, giver of life, taker of life. It seemed fair. He'd gotten himself into it.
His mother always told him that love was like a burning flame. It was inevitable that, one day, he'd get burnt.
