... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

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... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Straylight0 » Tue May 26, 2015 7:27 pm

Thought I'd take a shot at doing a serial story for a bit of fun and as a writing exercise in developing technique. Posting on main forums as well (https://forums.frontier.co.uk/showthrea ... ost2279941 ) where the spaces just seem to keep vanishing!

Elite: ...than to arrive

1.

Space takes different people different ways.

Some people look at the countless stars bright and steady as jewels in the black, and wanderlust drives them out amongst them. Others gape at the millions of worlds, the billions of cities and stations, the trillion people, run back to their home and hide behind their little front door. A few look at the pitiless, frozen void and any kindness or mercy that they used to have in their soul evaporates away into it.

Karlon yawned, spat his gum at the vac bin and missed. It bounced off the control panel and drifted in the zero-g: a slow-spinning slimy little lump. Karlon swore and reached out to fumble for it, transferring his left hand from the throttle yoke to the main flight stick. The gum drifted through the “Functions” holofac display and down towards the floor; as Karlon’s fingers stretched he inadvertently twisted the joystick. The ship yawed sideways and the chunk of minerals he had been trying to scoop bounced off the hull with a reverberating clang. Straightening up, Karlon realised that he was also now heading straight for the abraded grey mass of the asteroid. Grimacing, he seized the throttle and yanked it hard back for reverse thrust. Jets burst from the front of the ship, blowing rings of dust from the space rock, and the ship juddered to a halt. As it did so, the floating gum hit him in the back of the head and this time, it stuck.

Karlon groaned and closed his eyes. Sure enough, there was thudding and rustling from the companionway. A moment later Captain Thurden came floating out onto the bridge. He was a sturdy man in his fifties with greying hair and a perpetual sour expression. Thanks to Karlon the grey hair was tousled, the eyes were red and the expression even sourer.

‘What the hell are you doing, can’t I even leave you to mine for a few hours on your own while I get some sleep?’ growled Thurden, glaring at the youth strapped into the pilot’s chair. ‘You forge those aptitude scores or something?’

‘Sorry boss.’ Karlon dropped his eyes in case Thurden thought he was eyeballing his reflection. ‘It’s the zero-g in the cockpit throws me, they can’t simulate it planetside.’

Thurden fastened his magnetic boots to the floor and clomped over to the instruments. ‘You’re haven’t collected much product.’

‘Pickings are thin out here!’ protested Karlon. ‘If we didn’t come to the edge of the system to mine...’

‘We’d run into more pirates, I’ve told you before. It’s slow out here but it’s safe!’

Karlon tried not to swear. Mining was incredibly slow work at the best of times; after a few hours of it, he was ready to turn pirate himself. ‘Bloody dark as well,’ he muttered. ‘At least we got a bit of sunlight to help out today.’

‘What?’ Thurden leaned forward, grabbing the back of the chair and leaning forward into the cockpit. A waft of armpit odour hit Karlon; the Captain reckoned time was better spent mining than washing. ‘That’s not sunlight, you fool! We’re a million light-seconds out! And it’s coming from the opposite direction!’

‘This is my third twelve-hour shift!’ protested Karlon. ‘Any wonder I make mistakes?’

‘Wrong colour as well.’ Thurden grabbed the controls, but being leant over the chair, he fumbled and nearly hit the asteroid himself. Swearing, he let Karlon take them back. ‘Show me where it’s coming from. You can do that, can’t you?’

It was the most excitement they’d had in space since... well, ever; Thurden wouldn’t even let him dock the ship yet. Karlon thumbed the thruster switches and smoothly brought the ship up around the asteroid, turning their old Adder-class vessel to face the source of the light.

It wasn’t the sun; it was blazing blasts of nuclear fire, six jets arranged in a circle, facing half-on to the ship. As Karlon focused the sensors, velocity and distance information appeared on a holofac display.

‘It’s coming towards us but its facing away,’ said Karlon in puzzlement.

‘That’s a deceleration burn!’ snapped Thurden. ‘Try to correct for the glare.’

Karlon pushed buttons and the smart canopy dimmed the engine flare while enhancing the brightness of the great, dark bulk behind.

‘By the waters of Earth!’ he gasped, ‘is that what I think it is?’

Thurden straightened up. ‘I’m afraid I think it is,’ he said, and heaved a great sigh. He turned and his boots clumped off across the cockpit.

Karlon squinted, tried adjusting the sensors; they did not know what to make of their target, finding nothing on file to compare it to. ‘So what do we do now?’

There were rummaging noises from one of the lockers, and the footsteps came back. ‘We do what is necessary,’ Thurden told him.

Karlon looked at his reflection. The Captain had raised a heavy wrench and was swinging it at his head.

There was no time to dodge. Everything turned red, then darkened to black.
Last edited by Straylight0 on Wed May 27, 2015 11:46 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Pt 2

Postby Straylight0 » Tue May 26, 2015 7:29 pm

2.

‘You’re the new guy then? Come and meet the rest of the flight.’

The flight-suited man just managed to finish his words before the transport took off again, drowning his words with the turbinic roar of its vertical thrusters. Dan nodded and turned a moment to watch the blunt-nosed ship rise, tip, bank and soar away into the violet-tinged sky. This was it, then; his first assignment to another system. The air smelled sweet after space-stations, and after having the confines of walls or cockpits around him, the horizons gave him a moment of dizziness.

‘Fresh out of academy, huh?’ The welcoming party was a genial round-faced man with dark hair and skin, who offered a large hand with a firm shake. ‘I’m Richard but people call me Booster. You got a nickname?’

‘Um, not yet.’

‘You’ll get one. Welcome to Perabyssos 4!’

They picked up a flight bag each and headed across the landing pads towards a set of pleasantly whitewashed concrete buildings. Dan looked around as much as he could; the starport was fairly standard, if slightly better kept than most. The gravity was slightly lighter than he was used to and the air slightly thinner, but higher in oxygen; the hills looked green and rolling. Not every alien planet is an exotic jungle, he told himself.

‘Like it? It’s far from a terrible posting, P4. Decent beer, plenty of farmers’ children getting frisky on weekends... not much action, but that’s no bad thing.’

‘They only gave me my allocation at the last minute,’ said Dan. ‘What do I need to know about this place?’

‘You’ll pick it up soon enough. Local word for “ass” is “arse,” accent’s fairly standard otherwise. We got an Imperial party here but they’re cool, all the aggro stays in the parliament and the football field. Watch out for the Darzians, though. They’re a weird local sect who settled this planet first, and weren’t happy when the Federation said others had a right to land as well. There was some trouble in the early days, a war and some terrorist attacks, but things quietened down. They still tend to keep to themselves, though; our little troublesome minority.’

‘How do I watch out for them? They wear any special clothes or something?’

‘No, they look normal except they never smile or say please or thank-you. Militant evolutionists I think. Against their code to apologise and they reckon charity is a sin... odd bunch. But nasty in a scrap.’

The security force accomodation block was probably quite standard, but with each square metre of a planet probably costing less than a hundredth of that on the training station, it seemed palatial. Booster waved at a sturdy steel-framed bed in a communal dorm, helped Dan stow his bags, pointed out a couple of necessities and then led him up a flight of stairs. ‘Meet the rest of the squadron!’

The common room spread out along the first floor, with panoramic windows overlooking the port. There was a wall of trophies, medals and unit memorabilia, a couple of oil paintings, and only three of the ubiquitous “Patreus and yo’mama” posters. The base obviously kept the informal ban on virtual reality here; a gratifying number of the pilots were playing cards or other communal games. Most of them grinned and waved, although one flame-haired girl at the window only looked around briefly.

Booster led him to a table. ‘This is most of Flight 45, otherwise known as... the Crimson Teddybears!’

Dan froze in the act of sitting at their table. ‘Excuse me?’

‘We get that a lot.’ Booster settled down and waved at the other pilots, who were grinning broadly. ‘We like it. Shoot the pirates right between the eyes while they’re laughing, and any survivors have to say they got their arse kicked by a teddybear!’

‘I see.’ Dan tried to sound convinced.

‘These are Janzine and Derek, but you may as well get to know them as Polo and Doc. The woman at the window is Arjanna, our flight leader.’

Dan looked at her turned back. ‘She seems a little....’

‘That’s just her. She’s one of the few Darzians in the service; doesn’t mix much but by God, she can fly. Never touches flight assist or target tracking. Her people practice arranged marriage and did genetic modification when it was legal; Arjanna’s been bred for ten generations to be the perfect warrior.’

Dan ventured a bit of humour. ‘Genetically bred to have the perfect ass as well, I’d say!’

Booster’s grin froze. ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned that she’s also got very acute hearing?’

The woman snapped round on her heel and marched straight towards him. Her face was set like stone and her eyes drilled into his. Dan felt his face freeze and his shoulders lock up. Act casual, he thought to himself, before realising that she was his superior officer. He tried to spring to his feet but his legs tangled in the chair and he crashed to the floor.

Arjanna stood over him. ‘You have given insult and by the laws of my people we must fight a duel.’ Her voice was completely flat. ‘Do not worry, it does not have to be to the death. Honour will be satisfied by three broken major bones on your part.’

Dan managed to make his mouth open and close, but not to make any properly formed words come out.

Arjanna continued staring for a moment, then her face rippled and split to release a great coughing snort. Behind Dan the rest of flight 45 exploded into laughter, thumping the table and howling.

‘Sorry about that.’ Arjanna offered Dan her hand. He took it and found himself pulled smoothly to his feet despite being rather larger than the woman; she was either solid muscle, had incredible balance, or probably both. She clapped him on the arm. ‘This is the fourth millennium; only some of us are arseholes these days. I can even say please forgive us, but we like to wind up every new recruit.’

‘Worse things happen in space,’ Dan managed.

‘Besides...’ Arjana pulled out a chair, ‘your arse isn’t bad, either.’

A loud bleeping made everyone look away from Dan’s blushes. A large holoscreen at the head of the room glowed into life and the face of a grey-haired woman in a severe uniform appeared.

‘Listen up pilots. We have a mining ship running in from far-system, shot up badly. Pilot’s in a panic, shouting something about a huge vessel coming in from interstellar space and attacking him. I want the Bears scrambled and checking it out directly. Rest of you, stay alert.’

Arjanna saluted. ‘Sir, our new recruit hasn’t even unpacked his bags yet.’

‘Well then I hope his flight suit is on top.’

Notes:

For the Patreus posters see: https://forums.frontier.co.uk/showthread.php?t=144473

“Perabyssos” is a holding name for when I find a system that fits the bill. Need an Earth-type world that’s Federation but with an Imperial faction presence, a gas giant at the far edge, and a plausible distance from Earth for... well that would be telling!

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Pt 3

Postby Straylight0 » Tue May 26, 2015 7:30 pm

3.

Karlon was dreaming about being back home, in his warm bed. But he wasn’t comfortable. He was sick and the bed was floating about horribly; had he drunk too much? He was never going to joke about “zero-g bed” again if so. The covers were over his face making it hard to breathe, and hadn’t been changed for months; they stank and clogged his mouth and nose with dust and dirt. He put out his arms to push them away, but the duvet was intangible, and his hands waved in empty space.

Something metal smacked him in the face.

Karlon yelped and peeled his eyes open against the stickiness that seemed to cover them. The darkness was lit only by red emergency lights, but he could just make out a set of steel bars in front of him. His arms had passed between them, but his head had made contact, and was aching afresh. He groaned and tried to push himself back, flailing helplessly though the gaps. He twisted his body and pushed against the bars with his stomach, sending himself backwards. He was weightless, so he was still in space—unless Hell was freefall as well. He turned a slow somersault and collided with a nearby wall. He stretched his feet but there were no magnetic boots on them; in fact, they were bare. The wall felt grimy under his toes, and sickeningly warm. The whole place was hot and humid, and the air was mucky as well. When he looked at one of the lights, the air between him and it was full of floating motes. Wherever he was the filtration system was no longer removing the floating bits of skin, hair, nail clippings, navel fluff, nasal by-products... Karlon clamped his mouth shut and suppressed a wretch. Breathing through his nose seemed to be the least bad option.

His fingers went to the back of his head. He felt sticky blood, scab (probably there was some of that floating about too) and that damn lump of chewing gum. He’d been hit! He wondered for a moment if it would have broken his skull if he hadn’t had long hair to cushion the blow. But what had happened? Everything was fuzzy. He’d just been mining and so bored...

Boredom sounded good, now. He found a grab-handle on the wall and looked about. As far he could gather he was in a small room, half of which was locked off by crudely welded steel bars and a gate with a padlock. A small door with a porthole was on the opposite side. He was in some kind of prison.

Karlon felt around and found a grille; he was going to get his mouth as close to the air supply as possible. But as he felt it, he realised there was no air coming out. Life support in this room was non-functional. Once he used up the oxygen in here, he was going to die.

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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby UnmarkedBoxcar » Tue May 26, 2015 7:38 pm

:shock: :mrgreen:
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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Straylight0 » Wed May 27, 2015 12:47 pm

...is that good or bad!?

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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby UnmarkedBoxcar » Wed May 27, 2015 1:22 pm

Good :D

Anxiously awaiting more.
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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Straylight0 » Wed May 27, 2015 7:56 pm

:)

4.


Flight 45 had a standard allocation of system security craft, arranged on the lot behind the base. Carrying his helmet under his arm, Dan looked at the neatly arranged ships with approval; they appeared clean and well-maintained. There were three Eagle fighters with their swept-forward wings and pointed noses; ahead of them were two of the more powerful Vipers, solid-looking triangular craft with thrusters on the rear corners and four weapon pods at the front.

Even now, it surprised him how large the ships were close-to; even an Eagle managed to hold some living-space for extended flight, although not as much as the Mark 1. He nodded to the technician (note to self: by them a beer, it always pays to keep your ground-crew happy) and put his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder before looking back at the others.

Derek “Doc” was a small man with a scar down the side of his face, and Janzine “Polo” was a tall slender woman with improbable blonde hair, climbing into the other Eagles. It did not surprise Dan to see than Arjanna was climbing into a Viper, which looked to be equipped slightly different to standard. That left the other one for Richard “Booster”, but he was hanging back speaking to a girl in civilian dress. Their conversation looked a little heated.

‘No dallying, we got a mission and she isn’t supposed to be on base anyway!’ yelled Arjanna from her entry hatch. Booster exchanged another couple of words, raised his hands, and ran for his ship.

Dan climbed in, slipped on his helmet and settled into the seat. It took a few moments adjusting the piloting position to suit him, but he could do the rest in flight. The controls were already in default configuration, which was what he was used to. He turned on the main power and waited as the intertial gel emerged from the chair to envelop him. Some prospective pilots could never get used to the smart material and quit, but Dan had always found it quite comforting as it covered his arms, legs and chest. It would cushion him against impacts, hold him in his chair, squeeze him in high-g manouvres to keep the blood flow to his brain... wonderful stuff. He twisted his head and shook his arms to make sure the gel’s grip was not too tight; it was fine

‘Mommy bear, ready to launch,’ came Arjanna’s voice over the comms. ‘Check in.’

‘Polo bear, ready to luanch.’

‘Doc bear, ready to launch.’

‘Booster bear, ready on time anyway.’

A pause.

‘Um... Dan bear, ready to launch?’

‘Sorry to break it to you,’ said Booster, ‘but you’re Baby bear until you’ve had a couple of fights. Them’s the rules.’

The ships launched and climbed rapidly through the atmosphere. Dan concentrted on remaining in formation, which was a pity because he would have liked to look down and see more of his new posting. From what little he’d seen on the way in, it seemed green and pleasant. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know the standard day length.

The violet-tinged blue gave way to black, and a Coriolis spaceport rolled past on their starboard. Dan had never seen one painted blue before.

‘Everyone confrim blue navlock and engage supercruise.’

‘Mommy bear, that’s not our mission vector,’ said Polo a moment later.

‘It’s on the way. See my target?’

Dan toggled his display to show Arjanna’s objective. It was the chunky form of an Adder-class ship heading towards the planet at high speed, and the sensors immediately flagged significant hull damage.

‘Mining ship Kobolt, this is Federal Security. Throttle down and prepare for inspection,’ called Arjanna.

‘Security, this is Captain Thurden. I’m en route to planet ASAP for repairs and debrief as requested by Commodore Thule.’ The voice managed to sound both shrill and sulky at the same time.

‘I am acting on her orders, consider this a preliminary. Don’t make me interdict you, your ship has enough hull damage already.’ Arjanna had gone back into her flat menacing voice.

‘Very well.’ The adder decelerated, and the security ships closed in. Dan wrestled with the throttle, trying desperately to match speed and position with the others. They were obviously well-drilled in frameshift disengagement, and not just relying on shared telemetry. He had mixed feelings on finding himself in a unit that obviously pushed their training hard. Then again, most of it probably came from the flight leader.

They came to a halt a few hundred metres from the adder, the blue-white-green of the planet’s day-side below it. Closer up, the damage was obvious; blackened gouges, holes, rents in the manouvering fins, places where the hull-plates had melted and run.

Arjanna’s viper flew up to the mining ship and started moving around it, always keeping its canopy facing. Dan watched in fascination; the ship was moving smoothly in all of its six degrees of freedom at once, with none of the jerky up-down-left-yaw-pitch that characterised most pilots. He was reminded of some of the fish he’d seen in an aquarium.

‘Lot of damage here,’ said Arjanna, still without expression in her voice. ‘Seems they hit everything that wasn’t critical.’

‘Like I said on the comms, I was lucky. But poor Karlon wasn’t. The poor boy was working in the hold when the hatch got blown out. He was sucked straight out into space!’

‘So, one direct system hit and an awful lot of plain hull strikes.’

‘I don’t know how their targeting system works! All I know was huge and had a lot of lasers. Opened fire the moment we flew closer to look what it was. Be careful!’

‘Thank you for your co-operation and advice, Captain. Proceed.’

Bear flight formed up again, facing away from the planet and the sun. Nothing but night was visible in their crosshairs. Behind them, the adder slunk away, dipping towards safety.

‘Let’s go see this thing for ourselves,’ said Arjanna.


*

In the cell, Karlon jerked himself out of sleepy misery as he heard a loud clang from the door. Something was coming.

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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Straylight0 » Mon Jun 01, 2015 4:07 pm

5.

More clangs, and the door shook. Karlon grabbed the bars and pulled himself upright; or at least, he had a fifty-chance of being upright. There was no telling which way up the door was.

The metal rang again. The handle twisted with a shriek of unlubricated metal, first a bit, then all the way round. The door flew open and hit the far wall with another clang that bounced off all the hard walls and made the dirt dance in the air.

Two people came into the cell, grabbing the frame to push themselves through. At least they were human, even though they were every bit as filthy and disturbing as the cell itself. He couldn’t see much in the dim red emergency lights, which might be a blessing. The man seemed to be swathed in layers of clothes with frills, straps and tassels, and loose ends of tied scarfs and cloths floating around; his head had been unevenly shaved a few days ago, and now was a field of stubble. The woman was wearing a great deal less; he could not tell what was bodystocking, tights, tears, tattoos or muck on her skin. Dreadlocks lashed around her head like the flailing tentacles of some sea creature. Her face seemed to be smothered in makeup as well, with a great deal of smudged black and red, and the odd glint of piercing.

‘Well, what have we here?’ said the man. He anchored his magnetic shoes to the floor the same way up as Karlon. The woman wedged herself the other way up in a corner. Karlon could see that they both had the wasted legs of people who have spent a long time weightless without exercise.

‘Where am I?’ he gasped. ‘Am I on that ship?’

‘We’ll be asking the questions, sunshine!’ snapped the man and coughed. ‘The air in here’s even worse than outside! What’s he been eating?’

‘There’s no oxygen coming out the vents in this room!’ said Karlon.

The woman drifted over and grabbed the man’s shoulders, massaging them as she hovered upside-down above him. ‘Told you there was a reason the other prisoners died.’

‘Guess we’d better tell the captain,’ said the man. ‘Wasn’t our fault after all!’ He seemed about to say something else but the woman pushed herself forwards, the recoil sending the man bending backwards at the knees. Karlon retreated to the back of the cell as the woman grabbed the bars and started crawling around them like a huge spider. Her eyes were wide and white in splashes of black.

‘Are you rich?’ she hissed.

‘Not really!’ said Karlon. He had bounced off the back of the cell and was now drifting forwards again.
‘Then what use are you?’ shrugged the man.

‘Anyone care enough to pay for your return?’ asked the woman. ‘Anyone at all?’

‘A few hundred would do,’ put in the man hopefully. ‘Make it a thousand and you can get out now.’ He held up a key and waggled it in his fingers.

‘I’m sure my parents could raise that!’ said Karlon. ‘Let them know, they’ll get you the money!’ He had reached the bars again directly in front of the woman, and stuck his arms out sideways in case she thought he was getting fresh. Hmph, as if anything round here could be “fresh.” The woman was upside-down again in relation to him, and he averted his eyes from her very short skirt.

‘We’d have to get a message to the planet,’ said the man. ‘It’ll mean asking His Nibbs. He’s very keen on the comms blackout.’

‘Not worth it for just a few hundred creds.’ The woman pushed herself away from the bars again in a slow somersault.

‘You got a set of rods on this ship? Get them to me and I bet I can unclog these vents!’ begged Karlon. ‘I’m a qualified engineer and pilot. I can be useful to you!’

‘We tried that, we just get even more dirt floating about,’ muttered the man. He pulled a face. ‘Been months since we got new filters. Old ones choked up ages ago.’

‘You don’t need filters for the big stuff!’ Karlon saw a ray of hope. ‘The system uses cyclones for the particles. They’re back behind the filters. Let me out and get me some tools, I’ll have them emptied and running for you.’

‘No more floaters?’ The woman grabbed the key off the man and tried to push herself back towards the bars using his shoulder, but he seized her leg to stop getting flipped back again. They tussled for a moment. ‘Let me go, we’re keeping this one!’

‘No one gets out without the word from the boss,’ said the man.

‘Then let’s go ask him!’ The woman stretched forward and clipped the key against the wall near a light; it was obviously magnetic, because it stuck there. The man pushed her towards the door, then followed her himself.

‘Where am I and who are you, anyway?’ asked Karlon.

‘Time for that later,’ said the man, clumping out through the door.

‘Leave that open, without the air I’ll suffocate!’ yelled Karlon.

‘Oh? Sure,’ said the man, pausing in the act of closing it. He pushed it open and left. The door swung fully open, bashed off the wall, and rebounded back.

‘NOOOO!’ screamed Karlon, but they didn’t hear. The door slowly pivoted round, hit the frame, and locked neatly shut.

*

If you are enjoying this or have any comments/corrections, please post a reply and let me know. It's at times like these even the most hardened introvert realises they'd love a bit of attention!

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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Flip » Mon Jun 01, 2015 11:41 pm

It's very good. Can't wait for the rest. Which is why I hate serialized novel. :)
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Re: ... than to arrive (crack at a serial novella)

Postby Straylight0 » Tue Jun 02, 2015 12:25 am

Thanks! :) Next part coming soon!


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