Last edited by Fred Buer on January 18, 2008 • 5:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Commander William Plane was old. He'd seen many things in his career, and in his lifetime. He'd seen wars before. He was there when the Unified Solar Systems Fleet bombarded Phobos with EMP torpedoes to stamp out the android uprisings. He was present at the signing of the Pandora Protocols. He had seen countless battles, including the Belt Skirmishes during the ore priacy period 20 years ago, and the Battle of Archangel Station. The latter had resulted in the complete destruction of the installation. He remembered it clearly. Because he'd been the one who engaged the self destruct sequence, to avoid the station from falling out of the sky and crushing New London. There were fifty-five hundred souls left on the station when it went. Commander Plane felt a hole in his soul whenever he thought about it. Five thousand five hundred people. Of course, the population at the time in New London was about thirty million, so it more than balanced out. Didn't it? He hoped it did.
Watching from the bridge's digitalized observation windows, he watched the bombs his ship, the USS Penchant, were dropping on Lunar City 1. Remembering ancient films about other wars during other times, he recalled how Viet Nam warmovies depicted napalm hitting treelines, devastating huge areas of land for the sake of a few soldiers in a thicket with some rifles and a rocketlauncher. Humanity had always excelled at killing mosquitos with cannons. What the Penchant was dishing out would have literally wiped Viet Nam from the map. Probably half of old Asia as well. The domes protecting the entire moon were built to withstand meteorite impacts for hundreds of years. Now, new exigencies turned that strength against the United Solar Systems Fleet. At old Bill Plane himself. Cursing himself for being in this position, for having to kill more innocent civilians to spare the lives of many, he didn't let it show. The crew needed to do as he ordered, to act as one. If their chief suddenly started showing second thoughts, they might start having them as well, and then the house of cards would come tumbling down. That couldn't happen.
"Sir?" Comms-officer Cray tried to get his attention. "Sir! I have Hastings on the horn. He says Forsythe, Lancaster and Royce are all in their pods. They're green for go. Awaiting the word."
"Relay the word, and wish the boys good luck." he replied. Comms-officer Sarah Cray had been serving on his bridge for four years. He knew she was seeing Captain Hastings on their off-time, and he was happy because of it. Plane was a sentimental in that regard. He liked seeing what they were fighting for, the good things in life. Unfortunately, as the digital window below his feet were showing him, life was about to end for many in Lunar City 1. When the domes near Pillar 42 went, they would probably suck the air out of the lungs of at least ten thousand people. Asphyxiation was a horrible way to end. For some reason, he wished he could hear the thunder of the explosions happening down there. If only so he could burn the experience into his heart properly. Turning to Fowler on Targeting, he instructed him to cut the bombardment, as the troops were on their way. As soon as the bombing bays were closed, a shudder rang through the ship. Then four pods appeared on the screen. The ground team was on their way. Good.
Four days ago, a transmission went out from Earth's moon's satellite array, general broadcasting. The message was a simple statement that in one week, the artificial atmosphere of the moon would be ignited, and the Lunar Cities would be purged. An organization called the Earthborn had taken the responsibility, and they were known for committing such acts off-world. And known to be capable. So some eggheads at Da Vinci Station off Earth's orbit managed to trace the origin of the transmission back to it's point of origin, an apartment block near Pillar 42, Lunar City 1. That had taken 48 hours. Four hours after the message was sent, someone tore a hole in the Caelwyn Research and Development center, engaging the complete and total lockdown of Lunar City 1, making it practically impossible to enter or exit. 24 hours ago, the word came down to reassign the Penchant, as well as the destroyers Precursor and Penultimate to Lunar orbit. High Command was not taking chances with the Earthborn. Around the same time, the Lunar Satellite Array was blown to shreds, severing communications from inside the city. 20 hours ago the bombing started. Terrified members of the public, along with at least two squads of Plane's fellow navy-men had been hammering uselessly at the walls surrounding them, trying to escape their fate.
To no avail. Hastings's crew had set the final charges. Within a minute, Plane knew, Cray would relay the green status to him, and he would give them the go-ahead. And then the hole inside him would grow even bigger. The only sound audible on the bridge was the old-fashioned wall clock, ticking away the seconds.
By,
-Fred
Watching from the bridge's digitalized observation windows, he watched the bombs his ship, the USS Penchant, were dropping on Lunar City 1. Remembering ancient films about other wars during other times, he recalled how Viet Nam warmovies depicted napalm hitting treelines, devastating huge areas of land for the sake of a few soldiers in a thicket with some rifles and a rocketlauncher. Humanity had always excelled at killing mosquitos with cannons. What the Penchant was dishing out would have literally wiped Viet Nam from the map. Probably half of old Asia as well. The domes protecting the entire moon were built to withstand meteorite impacts for hundreds of years. Now, new exigencies turned that strength against the United Solar Systems Fleet. At old Bill Plane himself. Cursing himself for being in this position, for having to kill more innocent civilians to spare the lives of many, he didn't let it show. The crew needed to do as he ordered, to act as one. If their chief suddenly started showing second thoughts, they might start having them as well, and then the house of cards would come tumbling down. That couldn't happen.
"Sir?" Comms-officer Cray tried to get his attention. "Sir! I have Hastings on the horn. He says Forsythe, Lancaster and Royce are all in their pods. They're green for go. Awaiting the word."
"Relay the word, and wish the boys good luck." he replied. Comms-officer Sarah Cray had been serving on his bridge for four years. He knew she was seeing Captain Hastings on their off-time, and he was happy because of it. Plane was a sentimental in that regard. He liked seeing what they were fighting for, the good things in life. Unfortunately, as the digital window below his feet were showing him, life was about to end for many in Lunar City 1. When the domes near Pillar 42 went, they would probably suck the air out of the lungs of at least ten thousand people. Asphyxiation was a horrible way to end. For some reason, he wished he could hear the thunder of the explosions happening down there. If only so he could burn the experience into his heart properly. Turning to Fowler on Targeting, he instructed him to cut the bombardment, as the troops were on their way. As soon as the bombing bays were closed, a shudder rang through the ship. Then four pods appeared on the screen. The ground team was on their way. Good.
Four days ago, a transmission went out from Earth's moon's satellite array, general broadcasting. The message was a simple statement that in one week, the artificial atmosphere of the moon would be ignited, and the Lunar Cities would be purged. An organization called the Earthborn had taken the responsibility, and they were known for committing such acts off-world. And known to be capable. So some eggheads at Da Vinci Station off Earth's orbit managed to trace the origin of the transmission back to it's point of origin, an apartment block near Pillar 42, Lunar City 1. That had taken 48 hours. Four hours after the message was sent, someone tore a hole in the Caelwyn Research and Development center, engaging the complete and total lockdown of Lunar City 1, making it practically impossible to enter or exit. 24 hours ago, the word came down to reassign the Penchant, as well as the destroyers Precursor and Penultimate to Lunar orbit. High Command was not taking chances with the Earthborn. Around the same time, the Lunar Satellite Array was blown to shreds, severing communications from inside the city. 20 hours ago the bombing started. Terrified members of the public, along with at least two squads of Plane's fellow navy-men had been hammering uselessly at the walls surrounding them, trying to escape their fate.
To no avail. Hastings's crew had set the final charges. Within a minute, Plane knew, Cray would relay the green status to him, and he would give them the go-ahead. And then the hole inside him would grow even bigger. The only sound audible on the bridge was the old-fashioned wall clock, ticking away the seconds.
By,
-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!
Hope you enjoy my randomly posted and spontaneously written sci-fi short-story 
Any and all feedback is appreciated!
-Fred
Any and all feedback is appreciated!-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!
That's some inspired sci-fi jargon you're sporting there. As I sci-fi fan I felt right at home, the universe never felt generic. Heck I could see myself living in Lunar City 1 working at the Caelwyn R&D Center (not anymore though 
).
I'd love to read more, especially if you manage to keep such high quality language.
).I'd love to read more, especially if you manage to keep such high quality language.
These guys aren't kidding, and I'm no pushover. You've got some great material there, and obviously some great tools to fashion it as you did.
~ Member: Tex Murphy's Mutant League, Crazy 888's Chapter~
*Revitalizing Old San Francisco's Chandler Avenue District With Style*
(also known as Steve Douglas, but usually by people less awesome than UTMers)
*Revitalizing Old San Francisco's Chandler Avenue District With Style*
(also known as Steve Douglas, but usually by people less awesome than UTMers)
Thank you so much guys, I really appreciate it. I'm kinda careful about sharing what I write, it feels kind of personal, and all that. I'm sure all of you who've tried to write know the feeling of which I speak. I wrote that bit right into the browser under New Topic, just got it out of my system. If you'd like, I could try to expand upon it, if there's any interest in furthering the story.
And by that I mean I see discrepancies that must be accounted for. I hate leaving stories unfinished with questions hanging on to it. And not just what happens next either, but such questions as why tunnel through from above and not enter normally, or for that matter why not enter manually and tunnel in from one of the adjoining sectors. There be cliffhangers and hooks abound.
So let me know what you think, and I'll do my best. It's been awhile since I shared my creative output with this community, and I hope I've managed to improve some since then.
Thank you again.
-Fred
And by that I mean I see discrepancies that must be accounted for. I hate leaving stories unfinished with questions hanging on to it. And not just what happens next either, but such questions as why tunnel through from above and not enter normally, or for that matter why not enter manually and tunnel in from one of the adjoining sectors. There be cliffhangers and hooks abound.
So let me know what you think, and I'll do my best. It's been awhile since I shared my creative output with this community, and I hope I've managed to improve some since then.
Thank you again.
-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!
Personally I don't mind unanswered questions as long as they're either not essential to the plot (ie don't create plot holes) or I have enough information to think about it and form some kind of answer myself. That said I'd love to read more. Not so much because of the plot (though I wouldn't mind a continuation) but rather to experience your universe once more.
On his official papers his given name was Jupiter Tremmel. But the occupant in cell 2-21 in D-block aboard the Prison Station Iron Maiden, was more commonly known as 'The Spider'. Not because of his spindly appearance, his too-large glasses covering eyes that reflected both personal loss and a deep pain, or his slim frame. But because he was at the center of a very large web. That web was what he himself saw as an institution, a necessary institution, called The Earthborn. Nobody could figure out how he managed to run such an organization from a solitary cell aboard what was unquestionably the most hardcore, dirty, brutal and violent penal institution in known space.
The other inmates revered him in an odd sort of way. They heard news from the outside occasionally, and whenever the Earthborn struck at something vital to the United Solar System, they always had a new recording of Tremmel making his case for their cause. This of course, only lent credence to the Spider's legend. He was an enigma, and a constant source of discussion among the other inmates. This led to two things; one - Tremmel was left alone. Nobody dared bother him. If his reach went out to distant parts of the System, who could say what he could do right here in D-block. And two - when Tremmel was taken for 'questioning' (which everybody in D-block, who had been subjected to at least half a dozen times themselves, knew to involve torture in ways that could break anybody eventually) he was always escorted out of his cell and to the interrogation sectors alone. If any of the convicts ever learned what went on in the interrogation sectors between the Spider and their captors, he would undoubtably be found in the showers with his head ripped off and shoved into his rectal cavities.
The Iron Maiden was the oldest Prison Station in the System. Revolving around the sun at an undisclosed location between Venus and Mercury, it was next to impossible to mount an attack upon it to rescue anyone from captivity. Which was why the Earthborn's leader had chosen to be captured when he did, because it supplied him a position from where nobody could touch him. The Spider had information on most of the unsavory places in the entire System. And very few places compared to the Iron Maiden. The Deciding Council for Deep Space, or DCDS, the government for Earth, Mars, the Terraformed Moons and all Spacestations in the System, refused to acknowledge there were any 'mistreatment or ill will imposed or displayed upon the convicts' aboard Iron Maiden Station. As such, the USS Fleet could not go in and retrieve Tremmel without exposing the large portion of the dis-used E-block converted to expansive torture chambers. And the Spider was left to Station personell to crack. Of course, he'd taken precautions to avoid interrogations. He had chosen this place as his fortress because he was safe here, as long as he maintained the status quo. And his work could go on.
Precisely because the Station was hardcore, dirty, brutal and violent, Jupiter Tremmel had no problem continuing his work. It didn't take him long to find the right personell to bribe. After all, a prison guard, or for that matter, a captain of the guard or some desk clerks posted to a Prison Station like this must have done something wrong in his or her career to end up here. Jupiter Tremmel never suffered any torture. Instead, what went on in E-block was his careful mapping out and planning of how to restore Earth to it's former glory. It was where humanity began, it should be cared better for. After all, Mars had been terraformed successfully into a near pastoral paradise within the space of fifty years. Why shouldn't that technology be aimed at our species' birthplace? Instead Earth was left to rot in nuclear devastation, a reminder of why humanity was forced into space in the first place. The few people living there were basically stranded and helpless. It was the nuclear slum of the System. And in Tremmel's eyes that was a crime against his species. Of course, he'd tried going the political route first, but that ended in crushing defeat. It was like the leaders of humankind would rather forget Earth was there, and sweep the past under a carpet. So he went the way most humans are forced to go when their beliefs force them to action, but fellow humans block the path. He went guerrilla. Hit-and-run tactics. Where he was now, he was more free to do what was needed than he ever could be on the outside.
So he bribed the appropriate personell, and had his messages, orders and recordings sent out with couriers. It was amazing what a little money in the right hands could accomplish.
Then, two things happened that made Jupiter Tremmel realize someone was not only on to him, someone was subverting his precious institution for their own ends. He knew this when the news reached him that the Government Station for the DCDS, the Sergio Leone, had been torn apart by an explosion. The media had called it 'A fusion reactor meltdown resulting in a cascade of failures down the entire software node tree and subsequent destruction of the entire station.'
The Spider knew otherwise. He had laid plans very similar for the Da Vinci, the USS Fleet's High Command, but someone had obviously subverted him, and now for the first time since it had gone into space after a global thermonuclear war, humankind found itself without leadership. And while he had wanted to force the DCDS into action, he didn't want to destroy them. He needed them. Only they had the power to restore Earth to it's former glory, it's rightful place as both humanity's cradle and throne. Now they were gone.
Secondly, his regular intervals of 'interrogations' ceased. That made him very nervous. If the general population took notice that he was no longer being interrogated, they might start to think he had cracked. Spilled the beans. Told all. That would be bad. He might not find himself with his head up his ass just yet, but he stood to lose all privileges he held. He would become just another convict aboard the impregnable and unescapable Iron Maiden as it circled the sun.
By,
-Fred
The other inmates revered him in an odd sort of way. They heard news from the outside occasionally, and whenever the Earthborn struck at something vital to the United Solar System, they always had a new recording of Tremmel making his case for their cause. This of course, only lent credence to the Spider's legend. He was an enigma, and a constant source of discussion among the other inmates. This led to two things; one - Tremmel was left alone. Nobody dared bother him. If his reach went out to distant parts of the System, who could say what he could do right here in D-block. And two - when Tremmel was taken for 'questioning' (which everybody in D-block, who had been subjected to at least half a dozen times themselves, knew to involve torture in ways that could break anybody eventually) he was always escorted out of his cell and to the interrogation sectors alone. If any of the convicts ever learned what went on in the interrogation sectors between the Spider and their captors, he would undoubtably be found in the showers with his head ripped off and shoved into his rectal cavities.
The Iron Maiden was the oldest Prison Station in the System. Revolving around the sun at an undisclosed location between Venus and Mercury, it was next to impossible to mount an attack upon it to rescue anyone from captivity. Which was why the Earthborn's leader had chosen to be captured when he did, because it supplied him a position from where nobody could touch him. The Spider had information on most of the unsavory places in the entire System. And very few places compared to the Iron Maiden. The Deciding Council for Deep Space, or DCDS, the government for Earth, Mars, the Terraformed Moons and all Spacestations in the System, refused to acknowledge there were any 'mistreatment or ill will imposed or displayed upon the convicts' aboard Iron Maiden Station. As such, the USS Fleet could not go in and retrieve Tremmel without exposing the large portion of the dis-used E-block converted to expansive torture chambers. And the Spider was left to Station personell to crack. Of course, he'd taken precautions to avoid interrogations. He had chosen this place as his fortress because he was safe here, as long as he maintained the status quo. And his work could go on.
Precisely because the Station was hardcore, dirty, brutal and violent, Jupiter Tremmel had no problem continuing his work. It didn't take him long to find the right personell to bribe. After all, a prison guard, or for that matter, a captain of the guard or some desk clerks posted to a Prison Station like this must have done something wrong in his or her career to end up here. Jupiter Tremmel never suffered any torture. Instead, what went on in E-block was his careful mapping out and planning of how to restore Earth to it's former glory. It was where humanity began, it should be cared better for. After all, Mars had been terraformed successfully into a near pastoral paradise within the space of fifty years. Why shouldn't that technology be aimed at our species' birthplace? Instead Earth was left to rot in nuclear devastation, a reminder of why humanity was forced into space in the first place. The few people living there were basically stranded and helpless. It was the nuclear slum of the System. And in Tremmel's eyes that was a crime against his species. Of course, he'd tried going the political route first, but that ended in crushing defeat. It was like the leaders of humankind would rather forget Earth was there, and sweep the past under a carpet. So he went the way most humans are forced to go when their beliefs force them to action, but fellow humans block the path. He went guerrilla. Hit-and-run tactics. Where he was now, he was more free to do what was needed than he ever could be on the outside.
So he bribed the appropriate personell, and had his messages, orders and recordings sent out with couriers. It was amazing what a little money in the right hands could accomplish.
Then, two things happened that made Jupiter Tremmel realize someone was not only on to him, someone was subverting his precious institution for their own ends. He knew this when the news reached him that the Government Station for the DCDS, the Sergio Leone, had been torn apart by an explosion. The media had called it 'A fusion reactor meltdown resulting in a cascade of failures down the entire software node tree and subsequent destruction of the entire station.'
The Spider knew otherwise. He had laid plans very similar for the Da Vinci, the USS Fleet's High Command, but someone had obviously subverted him, and now for the first time since it had gone into space after a global thermonuclear war, humankind found itself without leadership. And while he had wanted to force the DCDS into action, he didn't want to destroy them. He needed them. Only they had the power to restore Earth to it's former glory, it's rightful place as both humanity's cradle and throne. Now they were gone.
Secondly, his regular intervals of 'interrogations' ceased. That made him very nervous. If the general population took notice that he was no longer being interrogated, they might start to think he had cracked. Spilled the beans. Told all. That would be bad. He might not find himself with his head up his ass just yet, but he stood to lose all privileges he held. He would become just another convict aboard the impregnable and unescapable Iron Maiden as it circled the sun.
By,
-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!
I thought I'd flesh out a part of the story for you. This is, by the way, the sci-fi thing I'm trying to put into book form at some point.
I haven't even introduced you to the main characters yet, I'm just testing the waters to see if I know what the hell I'm doing
Kind of hard to write with absolutely no self-esteem for one's work, so... since you liked the first bit I'm throwing you this. If you like this as well, I'll start to work on the book again properly.
Thank you for taking the time and effort to read through it and telling me what you think, your feedback is highly appreciated. I can't say that enough.
-Fred
I haven't even introduced you to the main characters yet, I'm just testing the waters to see if I know what the hell I'm doing
Kind of hard to write with absolutely no self-esteem for one's work, so... since you liked the first bit I'm throwing you this. If you like this as well, I'll start to work on the book again properly.
Thank you for taking the time and effort to read through it and telling me what you think, your feedback is highly appreciated. I can't say that enough.
-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!
Verry nicely done bud hope to see more.
So... did this piece stand up to the first one? Is kind of what I was wondering about...
-Fred
-Fred
Pirates, vampires, zombies, ninjas, ghouls, aliens, goblins, monsters, robots, sorcerers, undead, werewolves, demons, mutated dinosaur-cyborgs and those pesky phone salesmen! The shotgun is a one-size-fits-all solution!