Jin Quarantine – Prequel

Day – Who the hell knows anymore?

Morale was low. Boredom had set in.

Communication with the outside world had been lost ages ago. Since then, Jin had made no attempt to reestablish it.

Drastic measures would need to be taken to restore order amid chaos. Jin was just the drone for the job.

His enemies thought this little isolation would make him defenseless. Break him.

Jin cackled. Not likely.

He’d show them. He’d emerge victorious and make them bow before his greatness.

Jin circled his tiny cell. Four walls. No decorations. Not even a cot to rest on. It was little more than a storage closet. In fact, he was pretty sure that was exactly what it had been before current events.

That was okay. Sleep was for meat sacks; not superior beings like him.

He hovered over the carcass of his masterpiece, the parts that had once been the media system and speaker disassembled and lying spread across the floor.

Now, they resembled a Frankenstein’s monster, repurposed for his own needs. Only the truly enlightened would be able to appreciate what he’d created out of nothing. The rest would only see a jumbled mess of wires and hardware.

Jin oohed and awed, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Not bad for something he’d whipped up from only what was available.

A spark leapt from his sphere to his masterpiece. The pieces buzzed but there was no oomph. No crackling electricity that meant life.

Power. He needed more of it.

Jin whipped around, racing to the far wall of his cell. He knew just where to go.

He reached the smooth metal and flipped on the power for the weapon he wasn’t supposed to have. He also probably wasn’t supposed to have adjusted the energy fluctuations turning the blaster Kira had installed into a high-powered welder.

Again, he cackled as the makeshift torch burned into the metal, turning it into molten putty. It folded in on itself, exposing straight little lines of the electrical wiring that ran the ship.

He paused, gloating over his genius. They were like soldiers standing in formation, just waiting on him to give them their orders.

Jin flipped on his grav boosters, which were basically giant magnets that made it possible for him to pick up and drop things. Another addition he probably wasn’t supposed to have. Too late now. It was his, and he had no intention of shutting off that little capability.

The wires shook in place before popping off the wall and sailing toward him.

Like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought smugly. If by shooting, you meant using a modified grav hook to levitate the fish out of the water.

His mission accomplished, he darted back to his masterpiece. Hooking up the necessary relays were easy. It took only moments.

Pausing, he hovered over the tangle of parts.

Soon. Soon his time would come and none would oppose him ever again.

The metallic sphere that made up his body lit up menacingly. This time when his chuckle came it was deep. Fearsome. If a meatsack heard it, it would strike fear into their hearts.

He lowered over the giant red button he’d created. It was a needless affectation—the creation could be turned on with simply a thought—but he figured the red button lent a certain gravitas to this momentous occasion.

Cackling to himself, Jin thumped the button.

Power crackled; electricity surged.

The framework for his masterpiece shook, threatening to tear apart. Jin looked down with a sense of glee. Almost there.

There was a sharp pop and a shower of sparks. The lights went off as the ship he was traveling on shuddered.

Uh oh. That hadn’t sounded good.

“Jin. You there?” Kira’s unmistakable voice came from a panel by the door.

Jin regarded it thoughtfully. He thought he’d dismantled that.

“Answer me, you worthless piece of scrap metal,” Kira growled.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word.

There was a pause.

“Power to several key systems, including life support just shorted out. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Jin spun to take in the giant hole he’d burned into the wall. Hm. Those hadn’t led where he thought. He’d been sure they went to the communications array.

It was possible in his excitement he’d chosen the wrong wires to conscript for his little project.

“That’s weird,” he finally said.

There was a moment of silence.

“Yeah. It is,” she said. “It’s not the only oddity. Seems several systems in the ship are acting glitchy.”

“Huh.”

He could almost feel Kira’s eyes narrowing. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for hours. Why haven’t you answered?”

Jin cleared his throat, an affectation since he didn’t actually have a throat, or any biological parts at all. His soul was housed in a machine, one that had not one single scrap of biological material.

“What is that behind you?” her voice deepened into what he classified as her intimidating voice.

He spun to regard his shining work of art. It was going to be glorious when finished. With it, he would take over the universe.

But first he had to distract Kira. She wouldn’t understand the majesticness of his plans.

“Nothing important,” he chirped.

Note to self, make sure you disable ALL of the cameras before assembling your greatest masterpiece.

Silence crackled from the panel.

Kira’s sigh gusted over the comms. “Jin, you’ve only been in there two hours. There’s one more to go. Please don’t do anything that will get us kicked off the ship.”

“Of course not, Kira.”

Jin spun to face his creation again, his maniacal laugh filling the room.

“I can still hear you,” Kira said.

“Ah.” His laugh cut off.

He’d have to work on his badass ninja skills for sneakiness, but in his defense, Kira was a worthy foe.

Now, where was he?

Ah, right. There he was. What system should he take over first?