User blog:Ace009/In Infamy - SSC

In Infamy By Ace009

7 December, 2002

18:07 hours local time It was your average typical day in Jakarta. It was like this ever since the end of the Great War. A once booming city in the latter half of the 20th Century, empty now, with the streets covered in rubble, the corpses, and skeletons of man and extraterrestrial littering the streets, while buildings demolished by kinetic rods and some sections walled off by radiation. It seems so quiet now, Raja said to himself looking at the remains of his home: the apartment building his family used to live in when the War first began, with the apartment itself somewhere in the rubble.

He began to enter the ruins of his childhood home, looking for scrap parts that could be useful in repairing already existing cars, as newly manufactured ones these days were a rare sight outside of government use, not just in Java, but around the world as factories were destroyed and cities were laid to waste by the “‘Ajnabi”, as the Imans refer to now, and it was expensive to obtain a new car under those conditions. He began to search the first floor for scrap when he heard a strange noise coming from one of the upper floors. He began hearing for the noise as it got stronger. As he approached, he took out his Pindad P1 pistol, and noticed a shadow in the third floor. It appeared to be human.

“Help!” a female voice shouted in Indonesian. Raja could notice it was coming from the shadows, and for whatever reason she might be trapped for, whether the rubble fell on her or she made a bad step, he had to help.

14 April, 1978

15:58 hours local time

Raja had just returned from school when he entered the family apartment. Of course, he was looking a bit sadder than normal when his mother saw him, and his father appeared preoccupied with more relevant matters. Raja’s mother then turned to her husband.

“Purnama” She asked. “Have you noticed Raja has been sad for the past week? As in: more than usual?”

“What do you mean, manisku?” He replied, seeming indifferent, and appearing concerned about other things. “He is always shy, considering what happened that one time when one of those dogs nearly bit him.”

“True” she seemed to agree. “But that is not the problem. He has been this way for the past week. Just look. He has barely eaten breakfast this morning, he has not talked to anyone for the past two days and he has not been telling us anything as to how his school day went all week.”

“Good point” Purnama replied. “The thing is, I am more concerned about our family as a whole.”

“Why, though?” His wife wondered as he turned to the small television set behind him. He turned on the television.

“Because of them” he replied as an image of a suborbital plane descending on Caracas, the last known city to be attacked, was displayed on the television, followed by clips of fighting in the streets there, which range from helicopter attacks by local Venezuelan forces to a BTR-70 providing overwatch for infantrymen which now identified themselves as UNERU.

“You are worried about a conflict that we have nothing to do with?!” she snapped immediately, though deep down, she was horrified.

“This conflict has everything to do with us, Mawar.” Purnama said with a sense of fear and terror in his voice, which was different from his normal, more authoritarian voice. “This is not a normal conflict. This is one that will affect everyone of us. You ask why I am worried? Because of our children. I am worried for what they will live through, and the horrors they may suffer. It is Raja and Agung I am worried for. If they come, then what will happen to them when we are gone? Did you ever consider that?”

Mawar sighed and thought of the very notion that one day, their children would be alone and scared in a hostile world. She thought of everything the two have sacrificed to make a family, and wondered what would come of them when they were gone.

“I understand now.” she finally spoke. “I suggest you speak to Raja. Try to see if he can talk to you.” Purnama then turned off the television, no longer willing to watch at the horror before them.

“I will speak to him.” he said as he went towards Raja’s room. He knocked on the door of his second child’s room.

“Son” he asked. “Mind opening t-”

“Go away.” Purnama head Raja’s muffled voice say through the door.

“Raja” the father began to be worried. He then asked: “What happened?”

“You would not understand.” Raja’s muffled voice replied. Purnama began to open the door.

“Raja.” the now, worried father spoke again. “I am here. Just tell me what happened, and I can find a solution. You know that is how this family has functioned.” The six-year old took the pillow off of his head, as his father wiped the tears from his face.

“So” he began to explain. “What happened was that last week, I had helped Wahyu after he made me think he lost his health book, and after I managed to find his book, he and his friends hit me not once but twice in my tummy. Since then, he was calling me names, and earlier today, they stole all my homework.”

“Did you notify any of you teachers?” Purnama asked out of curiosity.

“I did” he replied angrily. “And as of now, they did nothing.” He groaned and then said: “I am never helping anyone again.”

“Raja!” His father snapped, then calmed down. He sighed. “I know, Raja. Being a child when you are not the West is difficult, and trust me, I went through hard stages in life too. Everyone has this sort of problem at some point. However, to help others in need and to be thankful for those who help you in return, is not only to present yourself as good person, but a gift.”

“What do you mean?” Raja asked. “I just lost my homework because of Wahyu and he is calling me names. Why should I help anyone else if helping him lost me my homework and he is hurting me?”

“Honestly, I was never all that much of a believer myself, but to quote what I remember of Hadith 36: ‘Allah is helping the servant as long as the servant is helping his brother.’ What it means is that Allah helps those who help others, my son. Although Allah may have yet to help now, you will see that in the long-term, he will help you.”

“I suppose so, father.” He finally said in a more calm tone. “I can perfectly understand.” Purnama left the room, and smiled back at his child as he closed the door.

7 December, 2002

18:20 hours local time

Raja remembered those very words his father spoke to him that Friday 24 years ago. He began to head for the direction of the female voice, unsure of whether this was an actual human or an Anjabi infiltration unit, hoping to either find a companion or scrap, depending on who or what she/it was. As he stepped on the door, he hanged his torch by a plant and saw a young woman, around her late 20s, with brown hair, and with her hijab battered and covered in dust from the rubble. However, she seemed to be bleeding, and he rushed to quickly remove the rubble on top of her.

“Are you alright?” Raja said as he started removing the rubble.

“Do broken legs and an arm sound like alright?” she said in frustration at her saviour's seeming inability to tell the obvious.

“I never heard a woman speak like that.” He told her in a tone much like that of his father 24 years ago. He then switches to a more indifferent tone. “But no, that is not.” He began to lift pieces of rubble, though some were difficult. While removing a large piece, he began to notice wires leading up to her buried arm. It looked suspicious to him, but he continued nonetheless. After he finished, he was able to place her somewhere near the door, and tried to reach back downstairs for the kit.

When he did return, though, she was gone. Or at least he believed she was gone. He saw a shadow come up behind him as the figure reached for the pocket. When he turned around, he saw it was her as she pointed an infrared laser to his skull. He closed his eyes, knowing of his impending doom, but when he did, Raja head a coilgun firing. The “woman” he had rescued, lied dead in the ground, with sparks and broken wires coming out of the hunk of scrap it is now. Raja turned around and saw a familiar figure. An older version, and saw a familiar name tagged upon the figure’s chest: “Sushkin”. Raja also noticed the patch in his left arm looks different in the rank. He still had the logo of the UFO orbiting Earth on his other arm, which itself, was surrounded by olive branches and the organisation’s acronym written at the top, and below the patch, the same motto:”In animo hominis”. Just like 24 years ago, but with the coilgun’s backpack being carried by the man.

“Next time” he spoke with an accent hinting to the Soviet Union. “If you see a chuzhak looking like a person with wires leading up to its arm, shoot it.” The Russian turned around, and went downstairs, radioing an Mi-24 Hind for extraction. Raja tried to speak to him, but instead, the UNERU soldier gave him a picture. It was Raja, 25 years ago. His father and his mother, and Agung, on Ramadan. They seemed so happy, and yet they were so distant. Raja shed a tear as the man who saved him those years ago nodded at him and departed into the sunset of Jakarta………….