No title yet. Just another story thread.

[cshank2]

Meh, I got inspired for another story after reading Hell is for Heroes. My third attempt at one and HOPEFULLY this one will actually live past the first post. Cough...

A new moon had risen above the Great Sand Plains. The great spray of, what the elders called, 'The Milky Way' cut the sky almost clean in half with a long, bright, liquid-looking chain of stars. A gentle breeze stirred the sparse vegetation at the edge of the camp, the only illumination coming from the aforementioned stars and moon, and the flickering of a fire set amongst a grouping of tents.

At the outskirts of the camp, a teenage human male, named Case, watched the stars. He had heard many tales from the traders and the elders; Of great buildings that flew between the heavens. Of the destructive weapons the buildings used when they didn't like eachother. Of the odd creatures that inhabited the buildings and told them how to use their weapons and where to travel. But, he reminded himself, those were merely children's tales.

He had lain awake countless nights, just like this one, watching the flicker of 'the great spirits' and had never seen anything too interesting. He shivered slightly and pulled his cloak about his slender shoulders. The ash-wastes were cold at night, and it was not wise to stray too far from the camp. At daybreak, the tribe would tear everything apart and move on. Ever-moving. This was the way of the Aroyo. They were nomads, and the lifestyle kept them safe from the harshes of slave-traders, Order soldiers and the various other creatures that stalked the tiny tribe of humans.

A sigh escaped Case's lips. He was tired of this. Nothing was said, of course, but he was restless. He disliked having to run from every fight. Always moving away from other tribes like their own that had set up 'villages' and 'cities.' The last time he had went into one of the 'villages' with a trader, he had seen so many things. The trader had even bought him a souvenire; a black-trimmed hat that had the insignia of the 'Terran Federation Navy' on the front of it. He wasn't quite sure what a Navy was. He didn't even know what a Terran or a Federation was for that matter. But it had sparked something so serious inside of him, a sharp feeling of need and want that almost bordered on lust. It had changed him. It had made him think of all the things the elders told him might have been true.

"Case!" A women's voice cried from the side of the camp. "Case, come quickly! The ceremony is about to start!"

Case smiled. The old-frog named Shaman was going to start his 'Spiritual Cadence' tonight. Shaman had claimed the spot they camped at was holy-ground, but he did that at every place they set up. But, the boy could forgive him for that. Afterall, Shaman was the oldest member of the tribe.

"Alright, Grandmother!" He called back, giving a last futile glance at the heavens. "I am coming!" He moved back to the camp, and, for a second, toyed with the idea of running away and never coming back.

=========================================

"Hey, um, Captain?" Navigation and Sensors Officer Huxley called out from his position at the very front of the exploration-frigate's bridge. His hands flew rapidly over the geographic-scanning display and he called out again, "Captain!"

Captain Jericho woke with a start, his legs knocking against the control-yoke and setting the ship into a lazy spin along it's axis.

"W-what, I'm 'wake. I'm awake." The guant man yawned mightily and corrected the ship's spin. His gold, implant, eyes took in the scenery. Off to the starboard of the ship hung a massive golden planet. "What's wrong?"

"Sir, take a look at this." A view-screen flickered to life in the middle of the bridge's cockpit. Jericho studied the various sensor-outputs and planetary readings presented to him.

"What, exactly, are you getting at, Huxley?" He sunk back into the padded command-chair and adjusted his black and grey hat. "We've been around this system enough times, nothing should be surprising us."

The viewscreen flickered again, changing readouts per Huxley's commands.

"Sir, this planet isn't as barren as we thought..."
"Oh? That's not what the Imperial Archives say. Boron V was destroyed in the last war with the Fazrah. They nuked the damned and divine out of the place. No survivors." Jericho chuckled and tapped a music-playing program to life. Instantly, loud, harsh music filled the cockpit. "Plus, how can Imperial sensors miss fourty million people?"
Huxley shrugged, "This is a new class of frigate we... uh... indulged ourselves in. Advanced sensors and all that. Plus the groupings seem a little small, not more then a few hundred per mile." Jericho sighed softly.
"Lemme' guess, James. You want to go and see what the locals are like?"
"Well, captain, the sensors do say they have a 95% chance of being human."
The captain sighed again, standing and keying the intercomm on his chair's arm-rest. "Doesn't mean they're friendly..." he said to himself as he waited for the receiving end to pick up. There was a faint click and the music filling the chamber died.

"Major Corimal reporting, Captain." It was a male's voice. Not human but definitely close. Praetorian.
"Hey, Reg. Listen, I need the dropship fired up and a squad of marines to escort me and Huxley down to the planet's surface. Think you can get that ready in a few minutes?"
"Yessir." Came the man's reply, the unmistakable hiss of power-armor hydroulics bleeding through the noise-cutouts. "The boys were on a drill in the cargo hold, we just need to recharge and rearm."
"Right. We'll be right there."

Jericho turned back to Huxley, "So, where are we going this time, oh comrade of comrades?"

The broader man typed something in on a keypad and the viewscreen flickered again, the image shown was that of an old-Earth styled camp with people milling about a great fire. The still-unnamed frigate really did have powerful sensors and camera technology. There was one person circling the fire, waving a weapon or a stick or something about in a frantic method.

"Well, you're about to turn us into gods. Let's go greet the savages and what not."


(Yes, I know. Spelling and grammar. School's been out for a few months, so apologies. It'll get better...)

[AgentZero]

Hey, cool, I inspired someone!
Interesting stuff so far, keep it up.

[dogscoff]

Oh yeah, I'm liking this. More please.

[Atrocities]

Cool work. Must read more.

[TurinTurambar]

I like it! Hope you find the time to keep it going!

[cshank2]

Update will come... Probably friday. (When school-work tapers off, basically.)
Anyone have any criticism? And thank you for the compliments.

[AgentZero]

Well... You haven't blown anything up yet, and you don't have any naked redheads. Other than that, I can't really see anything worthy of criticism just yet.

[dumbluck]

AgentZero said:
... and you don't have any naked redheads.

Yummy!

[dogscoff]

You want proper crits? Ok.

I like the way you set the backstory (ie a colony of humans reduced to barbarism while the rest of humanity is still in space) without out crowbarring it into expositionary dialogue or narration. Little hints like the "ash-wastes" add depth to the backstory without slowing the story down.
This is economy of writing, and it's what makes good story-telling.

You also got my interest regarding the upcoming meeting between the tribe and the ship-people. The shaman's reaction to their appearance should be interesting, and the potential for trouble is high.

I'm also curoius as to just what the "flickering great spirits" might be. Stars? Flames? Aurora? Some local cosmological phenomenom? Some kind of radiation effect left over from the holocaust?

Spelling and grammar definitely wants looking at, as you pointed out yourself.

There are moments when the language and punctuation are a little unwieldy too- for example the word "aforementioned" in the first paragraph only serves to clumsy up an otherwise elegant, almost romantic bit of scene-setting.

I'm also in two minds about Case's reaction to the hat. He doesn't know what a navy *is*, so it seems odd that he should be able to associate it with the stars and all his teenage restlessness. That said, I do like the way that you've turned the stereotypoe on its head: The archetype is for the wistful teenager to be tied to a home and location and dreaming of far away places and exploration. In Case's case, he's a nomad who dreams of settling down.

However, I would kind of expect the hat to make him at least a little nervous, since the only military he knows about (apparently) are these "Order soldiers" who appear to be a threat. Nonetheless the hat is a great device for focussing his discontentment, sneaking in a little more backstory, introducing him to the guys in the spacechip above and also (I'm guessing) touching upon Case's own heritage. I'd be very interested to know whether the hat is new or old: Has it be dropped off recently by off-world visitors (I could imagine slavers, traders and pirates might stop by the planet occasionally) or has it been kicking around the planet's surface for however many dozens of generations since the world was glassed?

Anyway, those are my thoughts on whaty you've written so far. Like I said in my previous post, I'm liking the story and eagerly waiting for more.

[cshank2]

Thanks, Dog. I'll touch it up when I get some time. The Order will be explained in the next chapter, and the planet is practically all barbarian except for a few places and maybe one or two cities that have formed.

The flickering great spirits... yeah... That didn't sound good when I was writing it, but I meant the stars. Most ancient civilizations thought of the stars as ancestor-spirits and everything.

The rest will be explained... when it's finished! Hrf.