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3010 Pt. 2 of 4

By Jon Brown

Episode 2

Premise

'So much glamour still attaches to the theme of missing links, and to mans relationships with the animal world, that it may always be difficult to exorcise from the comparative study of Primates, living and fossil, the kind of myths which the unaided eye is able to conjure up out of a well of wishful thinking.'

-Solly Zuckerman

'Ooh, ooh, ooh.I wanna to be like you, who, who.'

-Louis Prima - from the Jungle book

Day of the Hobbit

"When the birth of King, and Queen Flores the first, hit world news in 2010 it was a landmark claimed within the realm of scientific achievement, though way beyond the bridle of religious acceptance, as man acting in the role of God, yet again. It was here in this hi-tech underground laboratory uncovered deep within the thickets of a jungle in southern Asian, that a mixed group of scientists recorded a detailed day-to day log as they cleverly reintroduced the long lost race from these very laboratory samples as viewed here under a microscope. Suitable DNA, recovered from these two hobbit cadavers seen here, one male and one female adult, both found buried beneath the peat bog burial site, hidden deep within these limestone caves on the island of Flores. And filmed here are Kayla and Ali, the surrogate mothers. Two healthy, young Asian women, attentive, as they tend to the needs of their two babies. Willing project volunteers. Unashamedly proud, of their contribution to the world.

Hobbit Hix turned onto his back on the hard prison bunk. Sleep was useless, as self pity, anger, and plans of his next escape simmered within him like a boiling pot. It was no use trying to relax as his subconscious mind tormented him with film footage of the ceremony over a century past: 'Day of the Hobbit'. He knew it word for word , scene for scene, now. Though still he made himself watch it just to get the hour recreation once per week, and to see other inmates seated around him in their tiny stalls. Oh the bliss, just to be away from four small, soundproofed walls which threatened to crush his sanity to a pulp, if he would only give in. Just to hear sound, any sound at all in the prison of absolute silence. Pitiful though it was, to have to watch a fellow inmate lose his grip in order to catch hold of a few half sane words, from the incoherent babbling which would usually follow, just moments before he would then be bundled away by the silent Eye troops. All inmates were permitted three such episodes of relapse, and then out with the tongue. This was the Eye prison rule. Damn it, he'd even growing weary of his own silent adlibbing which once amused him, so well timed like a second narrator: "Hobbits are disarming, as they are clever and dangerous when cornered, and terribly overrated and full of pride, and hatred, and greed. "

".Steady integration, and speeded reproduction, thanks to legalised cloning, ensured their survival, and the intelligence which they shared blossomed, despite their smaller brain size, and a deep disgust, which they insisted offered them release, much to the dismay of most." -How could he forget the words of the narrator? After all the man cousin was his lead, and his cue: "Then the years passed, and exploitation descended without mercy on this unsung race, and soon they too became slaves to commodity like their human cousins."

"Though they did not complain, nor wage war, as they shared warmth and intelligence somewhat sadly missing from their human cousin's psyche."

"Until the hatred within human society pissed them off so much they had to bury it deeper within themselves, and survival became a case of joining them instead..."

Of course here in prison there was always too much time for self pity: After all, here was he, Hobbit Hix, staring at a low white ceiling, no longer relaxing between silken sheets and dreaming of his rise to the Flores throne. All thanks to the raid which he'd planned and executed so meticulously in order to steal the ancestral treasures from his parents palace home, back on Militia Earth. Unfortunately, his father was not impressed when he'd pointed out the replacement fakes to he and a group of very important guests. The humiliation was too much for his father to bear, and so the outcome was not as he'd desired. Swift was his ejections from civilian sector south, seventy, whilst he awaited prison transportation under guard, and wearing a stun collar. So it seemed his good intention, to show how weak the supposedly impenetrable security systems were, in the hope that they would allow him to redesign them, and so prevent similar breaches occurring, became nothing more than a private road to hell.

Turning his anger into energy, he got up and began his exercise routine early, watching a stream of self achievements and mistakes run as one river through his mind, being careful to keep his breathing as noiseless as possible despite his exertion. For he had no wish to set off the vibration sensors set in the roof corners of every cell.

After a straight set of three hundred press ups, he lay on his back upon the rubber floor, with his hands behind his head and his knees splayed, for a few minutes rest. He knew it was this boiling pot of energy from which he'd grown. Nurtured from the seed of wisdom within himself, he'd found liberation. Instead of fighting his bleak surroundings and cracking up, he'd began to make himself at home and was soon able to run things from deep within. It was a fact that maintenance of mind and body were the essence which had enabled him to carry out the many successful escapes which showed how easy it was to decipher even the most complex Eye encryptions.

Refreshed once more, he began his twisting crunches, as plans of the next escape sprang to mind again. Yes, it seemed even here behind the steel walls and electric fences of the supposedly maximum secure unit, he'd found a way out. Memorized codes, and a knowledge of the complex of hidden ducts, just waiting for him to prepare a suitable decoy, and polish his timing. After all, he realised, where would Eye security would be without his ideas. And if it had not been he to escape, then he suspected there would have been others who would have found the Achilles heel sooner or later.

Stimulated by his short sharp exercise routine, he seated himself in a lotus position and relaxed as he pondered on the unjust disgrace, and the total admiration which was held in the hearts of many a Hobbit. His name hailed by musicians on Paladorm, their lyrics about his journey here to Guilbertine and the endless string of Eye prisons from which he'd escaped, "Hobbit Hix Houdini H.H.H." His thoughts ran back to Klade again, another hero like himself. Imprisoned merely for voicing his political beliefs across space. This, and his tendency to lead revolts against the puppet leaders of Militia Earth.

Dictated as they surely were by King Eye and his evil drug creation CR, resulting in the cruel manipulation of his addict slaves, with the objective of weakening his enemy's defences. "Mighty Klade": holder to his beliefs, despite constant attempts by The Order, to brainwash him. His story too had had many a mention in the songs he'd heard played back on Paladorm in the underground bars, and arenas. Klade, had indeed been a useful, and much admired friend amongst a hundred tiresome acquaintances. So it was always good to remember their brief, though memorable encounter during their time on remand in prison six, sector north eighty. Despite his own unfortunate capture, at least Hix had had the honour of helping him to escape, and to later hear of his safe passage to their underground haven on Paladorm. Nerve centre to the resistance.

Suddenly the door to his cell slid open, and he was hauled to feet by four cautious warbot guards.

Hix forgot his inclination to resist, realising he was outnumbered despite his primate strength as they frogmarched him in silence toward the hologram chamber, and once there, threw him to the floor.

'Ah. Hobbit Hix,' the venerable monk spoke as he pulled back his red cowl to reveal his shaven head, and the number one tattooed in the centre of his forehead 'It seems once more that opportunity has arisen, whereupon you may redress yourself in the eyes of your family, and more importantly.' he paused to take a deep breath, '.those of his majesty,' he reminded him, as he hovered barely an inch from the floor, the other twelve monks, behind him who formed the order of the Eye.

'Huh, what is this, I haven't even broken out of here.' he paused as he heard the guards coming towards him, only to be halted by the hand of the monk, '.Yet.'

'There will be no need for that, now' the monk sighed, 'It seems your services have been requested elsewhere.'

Now Hix was interested, 'So you're setting me free then, is that it?'

'Far from it,' the monk grinned, 'Though should you last amongst this crew you may have sight of this thing called freedom, if you choose to believe such a realm truly exists.'

'Crew?' Hix questioned, 'Who's? What ship?'

The venerable monk frowned, 'You ask too many questions for a prisoner,' he growled, 'You will pick up your detail from the Comandroid when you board T6.'

'It's the butcher, isn't it,' it was a statement, not a question.

The venerable monk said nothing as he shook his head and tried to hide his anger at having the words taken from his mouth ,by the impertinent Hobbit.

'Gregan, I knew it,' he said, 'Thought you'd have got rid of him by now,' never had it felt so good to hear the sound of his own voice again, after nearly a year of listening to the voice from within, 'So the butcher of Guilbertine's still slaughtering whatever it takes to get you what you want is he?'

'Silence,' the venerable monk ordered him, as he nodded at the guard nearest, who struck the hobbit with a sharp chop across the back of the neck which collapsed him to his knees.

'General Gregan is a most respected Comandroid in the Eye force, and you will remember that Hobbit Hix.'

'And feared by even you by the sound of it venerable One,' he spat, as the guards dragged him to his feet again, 'Come now venerable One, is brute force not the most costly of battle methods?'

'Escort him to General Gregan's ship immediately,' the venerable monk ordered, though Hobbit Hix could see he'd hit a nerve, 'And make sure he boards it in one piece.'

'You heard him,' Hobbit Hix protested as he pulled his arm free of the guard and marched bravely just ahead of them. The news was to good to be true, a bite at freedom, and his first chance to contact Klade lay closer to hand now. General Gregan was someone they both hated with a vengeance, and now the chance to put an end to the droid head shrinker was offered on a plate. Though he smelt a rat, and knew instinctively that The Order were up to no good as usual. Though who was he to complain, after all he knew the game of cat and mouse only truly existed in ones own mind.

To be continues...

(C)opyright 2006 Jon Brown All Rights Reserved

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