The Starbound Crusade Table of Contents:Chapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter Four (Not yet posted) Google Drive ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter One In the first year of the crusade, the inhabitants of Terraria gathered around their television sets and watched the speech Tiy made as he announced the new spearhead of expedition into the last untamed area -- space. It was the last frontier -- the final reaches of the stars, now available to-- “Ah, this crap ain’t worth anything,” Damon said as he turned the radio off. “Eh, what do you think would run on these old things? Radio shows?” His friend responded. Janay, as he was called, was dressed in the standard issue dark-blue uniform of the Crusade. “The least they can do is to not put this propaganda on this garbage piece of--” “Just stow it. We all know your oh-so-mighty ‘Tiy sucks’ rants.”Damon, tired, just rubbed his eyes and sat back on his chair. “The Crusade is unstoppable, is that what you’re saying?” “No, it’s just that the blithering fools called the commanders would kill us for treason, mutiny, or some other crap like that.” “Well, that’s certainly an interesting way to put it.” “Better than just moping around like some thick-hided dog.” “Good point.” “Eh. I’ll be at the cafeteria, away from your pessimism,” he said. Damon just grumbled in reply. His friend, Janay, left the room; the door hissed open and promptly closed after he walked through. The room was full of dirty clothes and random objects scattered around. It was a typical wrangler’s room, full of the trophies of hard service; these, however, were thrown into a corner and partially covered with dirty clothes. There were no windows, and the only interesting things were the antique radio and the high-compression mattress. The disheveled look matched with the owner. Damon was a tall man, among the last of the Terrarians. His bushy and disorderly hair, combined with his green eyes, betrayed his ancestry. He wore a grimy shirt with space-worthy sweatpants, all of a monotonous white-or-gray. His physique also matched with that of a typical wrangler. Much physical work spent creating barriers against the would-be’s of the star system. With the absence of the boringly-dressed friend , Damon sat up and turned the radio back on. He turned the knob, hoping to find something interesting on the airwaves. “Join our special task force -- the highest of honors-- “Space penguin tactical force is ready to serve, capt-- “Journey into the darkest depths of the subatomic world. venturing into things unknown-- “--managed to commandeer this channel here, don’t know-- “Commander Jarry returned from his campaign--” Realizing something, Damon’s eyes shot open. He turned the knob back to the previous channel. “--Couple of months. Now, let’s get back to business. Y’guys heard of the new space station Anerillix? Yeah, it’s supposedly going to be used for mining purposes. But there’s some strange going-ons the past few days where it’s been stationed. Disappearing flux canisters, bits of antimatter, but not too much to worry anyone about. Perhaps there’s something sinister brewing there too. Other types of warp problems? Something new, for sure...” The voice sounded very familiar... Damon tapped his fingers on the armrest. Who could it possibly be... he wondered. “There’s also reports of missing persons aboard the space station Winsworth...” “Winsworth?” Damon wondered out loud. Aboard my space station... Maybe there’ll finally be something to do. Then again, missing is usually bad. “Most notably, they’re related with the death of Lord Kelvin, according to our sources. There’s this document, and it says something about--” The door hissed open again, interrupting the radio message. Damon cautiously stood up and muted the radio. He then looked up at the figure that silhouetted in the doorway. “Wrangler, your presence is requested in the cafeteria.” Damon’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he saw that it was Camila. She was one of his friends, who often went around in a superior-officer persona, ‘For teh lulz,’ as she said.. She was also very good at being an actor in general; she used it often in her work as a private eye.Generally, the persona matched with the dark blue skin-tight suit, which was standard issue for the Crusade. Which was rather strange, considering Camila’s professed dislike of it, but apparently she was quite frugal. “Hey, Camila...” Damon responded timidly, “What for?” “Food, among other things. Such as--” Janay burst into the room. “Quick! Close the door!” His face allowed for no funny business.Camila rushed forward, closed the door, and locked it. Damon secured it further with a metal bar across its length. “What’s this all about, comrade?” Camila asked. “God... they’re after us too. Or me, rather. Now they’ll be after you too...” he put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” “What the heck are you talking about? Just explain this crap to us and we might be able to help you,” Damon said. “Help me? Help me? Unbelievable. We got murderers aboard this ship. Some crazy idiot trying to topple the crusade yet again, but this time from Winsworth. And for some reason, they think that we support them.” “We are officially soldiers... I could see why. Anyways, where’s this supposed murderer of yours?” Camila replied. “I don’t know... but one of the black market dealers aboard told me. And you know the kind of rumors they hear.” “And why would you believe them?” “They owe me a favor.” “Duly noted. And we need to get out of here. Suit up comrades, a wild adventure’s coming up.” “Wild adventure?” “Started by the flight of a bird.” * * * “Tell me again, why would we want to go to engineering?” Damon said. “I already told you. There is important data there that needs requisitioning,” Camila replied. “Well, that doesn’t take priority over our lives, does it?” “It’s vital to my work.” Camila stopped running and stared at Damon in the eyes. “Would you like to be without your laser rifle? Information is the stock of my trade, and I intend to keep myself armed.” “Engineering is on the other side of Winsworth. How--” Damon’s question was interrupted by an exploding button, caused by a plasma bolt. The two wordlessly got up and pulled out their weapons. Damon had an illegal laser rifle, courtesy of the black market dealers aboard. It balanced firepower and ergonomics. Camila, on the other hand, had a dart gun. It shot poisonous darts sharp enough to puncture through armored vests. Their adversary, an enforcer armed with a simple plasma pistol, was reaching the doorway he had fired at. His slow deliberate steps sounded through the hallway. Damon aimed his laser sight at the doorway, chest height. He checked that all the safeties and ammo were in check, and moved in for the kill. The silence was almost deafening as the two tried to find the advantage, knowing the other was hunting them. Damon rushed forward, and took his aim while the enforcer was scrambling to recover. All too late, the enforcer realized the force he was dealing with, but then it was too late. A single burst of oppressive light left a pile of ash where the rib cage was, accompanied by the thunk of armor and flesh hitting metal. Knowing that the security aboard the ship would be on them soon, the two hurried to the other side of the room, a janitorial closet. There was another door there that led to the hangar hallways. After a few moments of grappling with the security pad, Camila and Damon hurried out. The hallway was near the edge of the massive space station, and consequently had windows that stared out into the vastness of space. Windows, that allowed an engineer on duty to see the two. “We have a security breach! The two traitors are trying to make their way to the hangar. Lockdown, I repeat, lockdown doors and get security over!” the engineer said over the radio, voice frantic. “Rush for it?” Camila said. “No time for fancy maneuvers. But where the hell is Janay? I would’ve expected him to be here by now.” “No time to worry. Just run,” she grunted. They sprinted down the hallway, rattling in their heavily armed battle suits. They shoved aside surprised pedestrians, flinging them off to the side, leaving them to gasp like fish. Rounding a corner, Camila brought the butt of her gun down upon an enforcer. He stumbled off the the side, and Damon finished him off with yet another shot from his laser rifle. Near the end of the corridor, several enforcers stood aiming their weapons at the two. “Halt, traitors. You are outnumbered and outgunned,” one of the enforcers intoned, “Surrender now and you shall be spared the pain of death.” “You idiots don’t know what you’re dealing with.” “We have outnumbered you, no?” “Don’t you realize the futility of your actions?” Damon glared. “We must do our duty to serve the Crusade and spread peace and virtue.” “Do you really believe that rubbish?” “Yes.” The enforcer’s voice took on a menacing tone. “I have fought enough for this so-called leader, Tiy. Were you in the Campaigns of Vergas? It was hell, I tell you. And what happened in the end? For all our hard work? A nuclear launch to destroy the trolls along with the innocent inhabitants! This star system is screwed up, and this poison originates from the Crusade,” he said. “You speak propaganda, traitor. We must believe in the upcoming good of the Crusade. Only then can we speak and judge.” “Only that will never come.” At that statement, the door blew open and Janay charged in on a mech. “God, you idiots are pretentious.” He released a hail of lead that scattered the enforcers and injured more. Several stepped out of the doorways that dotted the hallway, and opened fire upon the walking metal monstrosity. The plasma charges dissipated on the metal plating, leaving behind scorch marks. The mech released several smoke grenades that filled the corridor with noxious gas. Janay quickly moved to Camila and Damon, flinging them into the now-open cockpit of the bipedal war machine. “What took you so long?” Damon gasped. Camila likewise, breathed deeply. “You wouldn’t believe the security mech-storage has on these things. Your program didn’t do as well as you said it would, Camila.” “They must have gotten the security update a bit early.” “Mhm,” he sounded skeptical. While they talked, Janay manipulated the controls, and steered the mech into a tight crouching formation while it was sprinting full speed. Its upper wing-structures scraped against the ceiling’s lumi-strips, sending sparks flying into the chaotic scene. It then ducked down onto its “knees,” allowing the inertia to pull it forward, until it crashed into the hangar bay doors. The doors held for a minute, and then the metal tore apart with a ear-splitting screech. The hangar was a large construction, filled with various spaceships of all kinds. One wall was dominated by a blue membrane-surface -- the airlock. Lights were set into the wall, and various runways decorated the gleaming metal surface. In a corner, several transport ships were surrounded by a crowd of working laborers. They turned in surprise to the intruder. Besides them, there were few other humans present, besides a few pilots. “Head to the tan starship with all those blue markings on it,” Camila commanded. “It has all the necessary provisions for our space journey. Not to mention all the contraband I loaded on board.” Camila grinned a cat’s grin. But as the mechanical walker turned to it, a turret rose from its recessed alcove in the wall. It readied its payload, and opened fire. As much as Janay was a good mech-pilot, the machine could only withstand so much. It fell from the barrage of magnetically-launched projectiles. The legs fell with a screech, accompanied by a chorus of sparks. Several meters away, the upper part of the mech lay, as helpless as a kitten. “Get out!” Janay screamed over the clamoring warning signs. “Dangerous gases.” He covered his face his sleeve, and stumbled out. A plasma bolt hit the floor besides his head. More enforcers had arrived on the scene. “Out of the way, now.” Damon coughed his way outside. He pulled out his laser rifle, and rested the barre on the edge of the mech, and aimed. A curtain of smoke covered him, but not so much that he couldn’t fire at the group of enforcers. They fell without a cry. The bigger problem, though, was the turret. It still hunted for the pilots, knowing that its prey was not yet dead. The armor plating was enough to withstand several shots from a star-fighter, as was the design and manufacture. Meanwhile, the starship lay about fifty yards away across open ground. Several other enforcers were coming, this time armed with more long range weapons for the new battlefield they were to fight in. The only thing to do... “Janay, can you make the mech explode?” Camila asked. “Sure! Just as long as you have a plan! ‘Cuz you know, plans!” Janay shouted over the sound of the firefight. “Nope, just running! Smoke ‘n’ crap!” Damon ducked down, and loaded a new magazine into his smoking rifle. “Just do it quickly, I’m gonna run out of ammo.” There was a lull in the hangar; a heavy silence fell over all of the combatants. All of a sudden, it was interrupted by a ball of fire arcing up towards the ceiling. It sent a shockwave in all directions that knocked down all of the humanoids nearby, accompanied by a blinding light. In that moment, the three charged towards the ship, and quickly boarded. The chaos following gave them enough opportunity to start up the ship, and start towards freedom. Janay mashed the controls, and clumsily, the hulking machine lurched off the floor and headed unsteadily towards the wall of blue humming energy. Almost painfully, it sucked itself through the plasma membrane. Then the starship picked up speed, and headed for the stars. It disappeared in a flash of tan-blue light.------------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Well, the formatting is rather terrible. I'll try to update this quite often as well. Next Chapter
You always struck me as a writer. The formatting works for all intents and purposes of a story posted here on the forums, heh. Wouldn't want too much space, or anything too fancy you know? With that said, I really like this so far. Gonna have to keep checking in. Some interesting ideas employed here.
Chapter Two A light year away from the edge of the Forum star system, a flash of light broke the stoic vigil of space. A ship, smoking and burning, lurched its way out of a temporary hole in spacetime; one that immediately closed. The ship was strange in itself. It was in the shape of a elongated sphere with several fins sticking out of the main body. It looked spotless, meticulously cleaned until it was a testament to the maintenance crew’s endearing affection. This was marred by several scorch marks that adorned the hull of the ship. One fin was teetering on the edge of tearing off, and the dark brown-and-green of the hull was covered likewise in black scorch mark. The ship lurched its way towards the nearest star, heralding a message of the impending invasion. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The spaceship, christened with the name Moon Watcher, floated through the vast seas of space. The high-grade contingency fuel had run several hours after their swift departure from the space station Winsworth. Now they were going slow to save their now-precious fuel reserves, and to think of what to do next. Interestingly enough, Janay had everything prepared, except for a plan. Moon Watcher was stocked with enough food and water to last through several apocalypses, armed to the teeth, starship weapons and ground-based weapons (given by Camila), plenty of spare materials for any emergency encounters, and full of spare air tanks. But without a plan, there was no point to it. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing. No contacts, no plan, just mindless drifting around in space,” Camila complained. “What would happen if I hadn’t put in potential trading items? We’d be stuck at a refuel station, stranded.” “Just shut your mouth, I got you out of the ship fine and dandy. You’re still alive, that’s something to be glad of. And plus, we’re away from that murderer aboard.” “You haven’t resolved anything. All my data is onboard, undoubtedly being sifted through by inquisitors, and I have been classified as a fugitive for doing nothing but listening to the advice of a half-mad mechanic-engineer. Plenty glad.” “Yeah, same for us. We’re still alive and good, though.” Camila sighed and retreated to her room aboard. “Prick,” Janay mumbled. Moon Watcher was divided into several compartments. At the head of the stocky ship, the cockpit stood, armored flex-glas standing against the bitter cold of space. A passage connected it to the main atrium, which was dominated by a table and several entertainment centers. From there, it branched off into several living quarters, comfortable but minimalist. The final feature was the airlock -- the perfect place for a marauding prisoner to languish in. At the current moment, Damon lay in his room, one of the four (rooms) aboard, listening to the radio broadcasts. Now that they had escaped the metal prison of Winsworth, less propaganda poured through the speakers, considering their distance from the signal relays aboard. The previous day, he had looked for that familiar voice, but to no avail. But from the StarNet, he had gathered information or this mystery speaker. Apparently he was a person with great information-gathering abilities. He provided information on all of the major events to happen in the star system, and then told the general populace, without any influence from the Crusade. This person was known as the legendary Anomaly. Also, Damon found out that he was present during the Campaigns of Vergas, as a rebel spy. An insider, giving information from the inside. He was a major thorn in the side for the Crusade, as he gave opportunity for many of the rebels to escape the nuclear obliteration that followed. Now, he was a convict, pursued by the law enforcement forces throughout the solar system. And something even more interesting, was how Damon had been assigned to guard him, only to arrive as he was being broken out. He remembered the encounter. It was not something he wished to relive again, though. It was the event that had sent shockwaves throughout his world, broken the illusions of safety, and the source of the cynicism he felt. But now, how to get to him? There was no future drifting around, waiting for the Crusade to launch an inquisition on them. They could only join in the fight. Against oppression. But why hadn’t they done this before? I had to wait for the right opportunity. The same excuse. Always. Damon shook himself from those thoughts, and returned his attention to the radio resting on a small table in front of him. He was laying on his side, staring at the battered machine. The murmur of solar wind filled the room, occasionally emitting a shriek as a renewed strike of charged particles hit the primitive receiver. The savage voices of nature, all calling out to him. Drag yourself beneath the waves. Feel the breeze caress your skin, and breath air, unadulterated and pure. Return to whence you came, child, and be content with that. Do not reach further, or there will be darkness upon the land. And so, Damon fell into an uneasy sleep. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “From whence you came, brother. Return.” Damon’s brother was talking to him. They were inside a wooden cabin, simply decorated but cozy nonetheless. The fireplace was burning in a corner, lighting the otherwise-gloomy room. A sink stood vigil at the other corner. The only other things in the room besides that was a small tapestry and a window that looked out onto a frosty landscape that was complete with snow-covered pine trees. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with our home.” Damon, now a child, looked up at his older brother. “It’s for your own good. The Apex will return, and with them, a vengeance.” “Apex? Who are they?” “It’s too complicated for you, Damon.” The brother ruffled Damon’s hair playfully. “No it isn’t.” “Believe me, it is. Now we should--” Suddenly, the dreamscape shifted, and several years passed. Now the landscape was barren and dry, and the trees all gone. Nothing remained of them -- not even the stumps. The cabin, on the other hand, had been pounded into the ground by some kind of colossal force. Grass was alive, barely, in patches here and there. “This is what happens when the end is beginning, Damon. Terraria is forever tainted.” Damon, now several years older, looked onto the scene with a solemn expression. “I never believed you, didn’t I? We should’ve gotten rid of the cabin when we could. Now the syndicate is after us. What I would do to turn back the clock...” Damon put his face in his hands. “There’s nothing we can do. Nothing at all.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Damon woke from his slumber with a start. It felt as if several hours had passed. Everything was still the way he had placed it, including the radio. It still shrieked, and ugly and unhappy sound. The savage voice of nature. Meanwhile, the viewport showed the stars still rushing by. Wincing, Damon rose. He felt sore all over, and his head hurt. I hate dreams. They had always reminded him of bad things. Not to mention that most of his dreams invented something that always made him feel terrible. As if they were torturing him, on purpose. Luckily, he remembered only a few. This one was now fading away into the darkness, the recesses of his mind. Suddenly, Janay threw the door open. “We finally decided to refuel. Camila’s a real bitch, I tell ya. Always nitpicking...” then he recognized Damon’s haggard look. “Another dream?” “Yeah. Nothing too bad this time, though.” “Well, in that case, let’s get going. This one doesn’t have much in technology, so we have to meet the owners in person and hand over the pixels in hard, cold, cash.” Janay’s energy seemed boundless -- no matter what he went through, he was always bouncing and carefree. Like he was drunk on life. “Yeah, sure, just let me put on my battle suit.” “You’re going in armed? They sure won’t like that.” “You never know when the Crusade’s gonna retaliate. Remember that captain, Valerius?” Valerius was another renegade from the Crusade, captured again after forgetting to properly dispose of his straw at a rest stop. He was also infamous for his messy manners. “Yeah. Not sure how a battle suit would make a difference, though.” “It’s more a matter of intimidation. ‘Cuz I really don’t feel like paying anything right now.” “You’re a regular thief.” “And you’re a kleptomaniac.” * * * After they had departed (and payed, at Camila’s insistence), they set out towards the gas giant Altras. The moons of the planet were renowned for the presence of the underground. As a result, they were a festering pit for the illicit activities and a harbor for those seeking refuge from the law -- a perfect place for the three to hide. They had set course for Safelis. It was an industrial junkyard, almost as putrid as the factories that sprawled across the surface of Terraria. A constant layer of smog and pollutants made for an eternal shade over the planet, which only highlighted the sickly artificial lighting on-surface even more. They were going there, instead of some paradise-planet like Verrack simply because of the lack of the Crusade’s presence on the moon. The underground controlled the planet; puppet governments bowed to them, and them only. The Crusade had no place on the tainted planet. They didn’t listen, though, as they sent frequent forays to “purify” some place or another, which almost always ended in disaster. But now, as the plasma jets blasted out their load of bright blue plasma, and the long journey from deep space began, they all retreated to their individual rooms, waiting in boredom. Damon, again, turned the radio on again, trying to find Anomaly’s broadcast yet again. Just like his previous attempt, the results were negative. Disheartened, he randomly flipped between channels, trying to find something to alleviate the monotony of the space voyage. “Again, Commander Jerry has proven to be a very resourceful man. The insurrectionists in the Kornam asteroid belt have been suppressed by this legendary figure. No real news there, though--” “--Dang. I never expected something like that to happen. The warp storms near the research facilities have been getting worse and worse, and now there’s hardly any business. The Crusade better have something to answer for--” “Unbiased reports. Thank you for accessing and hearing this very reliable news network. To kick this off, we’ll first review the reports of all these warp storms plaguing the system.“ “Unbiased. Ha.” But being as bored as he was, he continued listening to the reporter spouting filtered and distilled nonsense. “The warp storms have been theorized to be some sort of anomaly underlying the space-time fabric we’re all familiar with. They have a large electromagnetic influence, disrupting communication networks, damaging magnets, and generally causing havoc with anything related to electricity -- including humans. The electricity our brains run on goes haywire, instantly killing you if you get caught in these monsters. And there’s also no protection against this kind of thing, either. That underlying fabric permeates all of space, bypassing anything and everything we’ve tried to throw at it. Strange stuff, right, listeners? Well, let’s hope it’s all rumors and slander against the Crusade.” Briefly, Damon thought about how reliable that was. The Crusade was known among the underground for turning everything, and everything to their advantage. Even facts that may well serve to save people’s life. Still, though, this fit in with the education that he had received. Before the war-mongering days of the Crusade. The broadcast continued. “The place they’re most common is near the harmonic lagrangian point of the top-secret research facilities of the Crusade. Whew, quite a moutful there. Anyways, maybe they have some sort of interesting experiment going on?” There was a laugh. “Well, these warp storms have also been seen near the outer edges of the system -- near the deep space probes that’s been sent out--” “This is the Crusade Telecommunication Division. The report has been marked for heresy and trespassing, and distribution of classified information. It shall be shut down, and investigated. Return to your daily doings, citizens.” And just like that, the monotonous voice of the reporter was replaced by the howling voice of solar wind. What was that? Damon wondered. It’s quite obvious what happened on the surface... but what really happened? As he sat up, Janay entered the room, fuming. “They shut my broadcast off! Now I’ll never be able to hear the end of the series.” “They shut off your radio broadcast too?” “Yeah. Apparently anything that has the words ‘warp storm’ has been shut down by those telecommunication freaks. Seriously, if they want security, they should do it well. Stupid idiots, doing stupid things yet again. The only word they censor is warp storm. And of course--” “Yeah, of course. I’m amazed they thought to cover radios as well.” “Not to mention television, ENet, and all those other things. Geez, I’m amazed that the Crusade has that much pixels to throw around.” “Well, I was thinking about what this meant before you barged in.” “Eh, I need someone to complain to when something goes wrong, barring any deep philosophical thinking you may have, doctor.” “The more important question,” Damon said, ignoring Janay’s comment, “is why they’re making this censor. Obviously, it has something to do with warp storms...” “Their stupid censors,” Janay added brightly. “The research labs? My broadcast mentioned that, along with some stuff about vectors.” Janay threw himself onto a chair, and said, “Crusade broadcast? If they endorse it, it is wrong. Rule number twelve for survival, Sanctioned Crusade Idiots.” “The Crusade’s still shutting down the broadcasts that they endorsed,” Damon pointed out. “They’re too frickin’ lazy to do anything else besides a carpet censor.” “They’ve done some smart moves in the past--” “Keyword -- past. Honestly, they were good up until the sixtieth year of their Crusade. After that, everything went downhill, with them becoming zealous idiots.” “That just depends on your viewpoint. Tiy was a nice guy, I’ve seen what he’s done. It’s the lackeys that’ve made the Crusade terrible as it is.” “Who were inspired by Tiy.” Janay grinned in mock superiority. “They’ve colonized all of the system.” “Stop defending the bastards, Damon. As much of a veteran old-grizzled guy you are, it seriously doesn’t fit your style.” Damon just snorted and laid back down on his bed. “Hopefully we’ll get to Safelis before you start driving me mad.” “Better than that radio of yours. Sheesh. You got all the electronic awesomeness aboard this ship, and you spend your time with that antique a’ yours.” “It's vintage, man. Vintage.” * * * Their first view of Safelis was a very dismal one. Photochemical smog covered the surface, choking the life out of everything, and made everything appear tinted green and bleak. The smog also blocked the light from the sun, making the scene darker than it should have been. Starships, big and small, swerved, rotated, and docked in the various ports that were scattered across the surface of the sprawling metropolis. The area had the feeling of a junkyard, too -- burnt heaps of refuse and metal lying around, and people avoiding them like the plague. It had the added bonus of scroungers scrambling for any sort of scraps they could find. Skyscrapers, none more than a mile high, stretched out to touch the sky. They were easily visible, shining like beacons of hope and opportunity among the smog and grim ways of the city below. “Yeah, I think we should’a gone to Verrack,” Janay said. “Be quiet.” Camila sounded annoyed at the interruption. “At least we’re safe here.” “Out of the frying pan, into the fire,” he sang. He promptly dodged a swift kick, grinning all the while. Before the argument could continue further, the ship docked. A slight tingle was sent through their bodies as the magnetic clamps latched on to the ship’s docking ports. After a few moments, a bored voice called out through the speakers, “You can get out of the cockpit now. I recommend you put on respirators and masks, yada yada, don’t get killed out there. Enjoy your time.” An access hatch opened in the bottom of the ship; it was situated at a ladder that went all the way to the ground below, some thirty yards. At the bottom, colored blobs moved around, doing their work as unwilling porters. Soon following, a noxious stench soon permeated the ship. It smelled of soot and chemicals, stinging their noses and filling their lungs with a black, ugly feeling, accompanied by a dark green-ish smog. “Better get used to this, huh?” Janay said between coughs. “At least the smog’s black back home,” Damon responded. Camila didn’t say anything, instead choosing to put on a gas mask. The others followed suit, and soon the sound of breathing was the only sound that filled the room. They also put on an overcoat, specially designed to protect against clouds of chemicals, first invented on the wastes of Terraria. They were complemented by heavy boots, covered with several metal plates. Now suited in a black overcoat similar to a trenchcoat, Damon clambered down the ladder to reach the surface below, followed by his comrades. As they exited Moon Watcher, the texture of the air was really felt by them; a heavy, dull feeling. It completed the personality of the moon, and fit in with the rumors perfectly. Too perfectly, in fact. The first thing he noticed when they reached the surface was the people. Instead of the usual hubbub of conversation that usually encompassed a city, there was the dull pounding of feet on concrete, arc torches in the distance; everything but speech. There were only a few words spoken here and there, accentuated by the deep tones that came from the respirators and gas masks. It certainly had an unsettling effect. But what else could they expect? It was a planet of vagabonds and dissidents, however much freedom they possessed. “Would the locals give us directions?” Camila tentatively asked. “They’d probably stab us to death instead. You guys armed?” Damon, always the pragmatist. “I have my dart gun.” “And I have these big-ass power fists on. Any fool who tries to touch me will get several hundred newtons of force, right into their jaw.” Janay shrugged carelessly, probably to mark his “male dominance.” “Oh, yes, I forgot my mapping device.” Camila pulled a phone-sized device from one of the overcoat’s many pockets. “Ran a scan before we landed. A pub, or something similar, should be around here...” she started tapping away, presumably surveying the surrounding area. “And what about you, Damon? The laser rifle?” Camila asked. “It’s too big to use in the slums. I decided to bring along an echotech dagger instead.” Satisfied, Camila led the group through the open spaceport into the darkness of the conurbations. Along the way, they encountered the same types of people; respirators combined with a thick clothing of some kind. Many of them had the outlines of weapons in their clothes. A dangerous place. Made even more dangerous, without the presence of the Crusade. One person in particular stood out from the crowd. Whereas most of the populace had blank, monotonous cloaks, this figure had a dark and shadowy crown carved into his gloves, as Damon noticed, along with a noticeably darker shroud. He stood at the corner of a building, and stared menacingly at the figures that passed by. Damon included. His mask was also quite strange, he saw. Instead of the typical chemical-warfare masks, he had on a battle-scarred testament to the conflict between the dominant gangs of the moon. It had reflective eye-visors, instead of the regular dark ones, allowing Damon to take in his grim-looking figure as well. A view through a mirror, if one will. In a few moments, they had passed the figure, and were now moving from the open and somewhat lit space of the spaceport into the cramped alleys of the city itself. Damon had been right to bring a dagger, as there was no space for the long-barreled laser rifle to be used in these cramped conditions. The alleys were full to the brim with people, all going about their business. This place was at least filled with some vestige of conversation, as various conversations floated across the ramshackle metal structures that the walls were composed of. “Just take a left, then a right,” Camila directed. They started on their way. As storefronts and stalls passed by, the lighting increased, as harsh neon light filled the alley. The hubbub of conversation also increased as they went further in. Loud noises, the yelling of hooligans, shouts of store owners as they advertised their wares. It was now growing more and more like a city, and it put the three at ease again. After a few more minutes of walking, they arrived at the pub. It was the only place in the area that provided living space, at least for the moment. It also was filled with all kinds of disagreeable people and itinerant people, most of which were drunk, and all viewable through the extremely dirty windows. They opened the door, and beheld the sight of a flashing room, about as large as that of a nightclub dance floor, and dozens of revelers. The music was deafening to the point that they had to shout to hear each other talk audibly. “You sure this is the best place?” Damon shouted. “I hope so! Else we’ll be trapped outside in the night.” “What night?” Camila just ignored him and started off for the edge of the room, that held the bartender and, presumably, the owner of the structure, closely followed by Damon. As he watched, she dodged beholders and dancers. Damon noticed that the air was considerably cleaner and easier to breath inside than it was outside. Most of the humans were mask-less also. At the same time, Camilapulled off her gas mask and stuffed it into yet another pocket of her overcoat. She shook her long brown hair free, and pushed forward again. Damon did so, admiring the speed and efficiency of her actions. They soon arrived at the bar. Next to the bar, the volume was low enough that they could talk without being interrupted by a blast of noise. It was still painfully loud, though. “I’ve seen advertisements of this place; is there anywhere I can get a room?” Camila inquired. “Sure there is. As long as you don’t mind the harsh lights ‘n’ sounds, there’s plenty of space here. And some in my room, if you ever need it.” He winked, and filled a glass for another customer. “What’re the prices? We can only pay cheap,” Damon said, breaking into the conversation. “Oh, they’re low enough fer you guys, if only you behave.” “That’s nice to know. Now, as to the manner of payment--” The lights flickered for a moment, and the music paused likewise. There was a slight disorienting buzzing that could be heard. It promptly stopped, the music came back on, and the drunkards continued with their dance of who-knows-what. “What was that?” The bartender seemed slightly apprehensive, but there was no difference in his demeanor otherwise. “I don’ know. It seems awful familiar to some kind of ‘lectricity anomaly, but I can’t really know. It might be the Emperor’s troops, anyhow. They got all kinds a’ gear.” Damon noted the bartender’s manner of speech, and responded, saying, “The Emperor? I’ve never heard of him.” “Yeah, the Emperor. He’s the kingpin around these parts. He might be collectin’ his payment from a nearby store or somethin’, I don’t know.” He lowered his voice. “The guys with the dark crown somewhere on their clothes, they’re probably his lackeys. Y’never know.” “Anyways, what about our rooms? And supplies, if you got any.” “There’s a shop nearby that’s run by my son. It’s got all the space-farin’ supplies you’ll ever need.” “We’ll hold off of that offer for now.” Camila broke into the conversation, eyeing the increasing violence of the main crowd. “But we’d like it if we could get somewhere safe for now...” The bartender motioned up the stairs, and said, “Thirty pixels a night.” They took him up on his offer. Janay soon joined them, and they all clambered up the stairs, to reach a hallway filled with entrances to rooms. Guided by their key, their room was soon located, and they all collapsed on the four beds, tired. As he started to drift off into sleep, Damon watched the only window, and saw the sights of the city outside. Gloomy and dark, filled with the scum of humanity. Is this the price of freedom? That last thought lingering in his mind, he drifted off to sleep. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Previous Chapter [] Next Chapter
And yet another update. I also fixed up the first chapter, adding in some things that I felt were missing. On another note -- I would appreciate critiques and reviews VERY much.
This is a very well written story. You've done a great job of building a universe and intriguing the reader with these mentions of the authoritarian Crusade and a rebellion against them, while also leaving much of it a mystery. I don't comment on many of the stories posted because... ehh grammar. I'm too much of a stickler for proper english. You get full marks on that lol. Now, for some critiques. One thing I notice is that although your descriptions are very good, you sometimes choose odd words that don't quite fit. I'll quote a few of them later, but to start: 1) The action in the beginning is a little discombobulated. I don't find the way in which they gain the upper hand over the first guard very believable, he coughs and then they burst out? Kind of anti-climatic and a little too easy. I'd also change the bit where they're seen by an engineer from outside the window. If the window looks out into space, on a huge space station, where could he have possibly seen them from? Would make more sense if they're just in a rush after being caught on the station security cameras. After that though the action was great, with plenty of chaotic description. 2) Mostly I'm just gonna nitpick some strange wording, because it's written so well overall that these things stuck out at me all the more. Not a good word to use in the context, though it does sound nice heh Again, it sounds good in theory. I've learned over years that sometimes I just have to throw the baby out with the bath water when I grow too attached to sentences like this. They sound so sexy, but really serve no purpose but word bloat. I won't quote too many instances of this, but here you chose the perfect word - dissipate - then ruined it by basically saying the same thing again. Stories flow 100% better without superfluous word count. Again, a little nitpick, but using both "various" and "all kinds" sticks out. Just stuck out at me, possibly a symptom of "writer is too attached to this phrase to get rid of" which I am constantly guilty of. Strange description. ------ I saw less instances of these things in the 2nd chapter (though I could mention a few), and although I usually hate dream sequences, I actually loved the way you handled yours. Definitely leaves me wanting to know more about the character's past. I hope you don't find any of that too harsh. You have a well developed writing style, and you're at the point where you have to make small changes to make big ones, if you know what I mean. Trim the fat, make every single word earn it's keep, and don't be afraid to delete anything that doesn't make the cut. Looking forward to more, I'll be following the story.
God, you make me feel so nice and fuzzy In-depth reviews are very helpful and good. I have been aware of the "useless stuff" part of what you've been critiquing on, but I guess I got carried away too much in the writing fever I had while writing this story. It really does help, though, that you pointed things out and said exactly what was wrong with them. I'll try to fix them, good sir. As for word choice -- it's been something that's been plaguing me for the past couple of months. It's glad to know that I've improved, though. My previous stories lacked the proper vocabulary to fully flesh out the surroundings. I don't see what you find odd about the plasma membrane thing, though. It describes the motion quite well (in my mind's eye, at least). And the dream sequence -- can you identify what you found good about it? I thought it was a tad bit... odd, but I wanted to have some outside input before I edited or anything.
Honestly I'm not sure. "sucked through" is not bad, maybe it's just the "sucked itself through" which irks me. It does describe the basic action well, so it's probably more of an opinion thing. If you like it, by all means keep it. Well, it could use a little tweaking, things like "the sink stood vigil" but what I found so good was the overall feel of it. There's a gravity to it that isn't easy to do with things like dreams and flashbacks. You wrote it minimalistic, a good thing when using dream sequences, with powerful descriptions that say a LOT about how the character feels about this time and place (without committing the cardinal writing sin, which is straight up telling the reader why the character feels a certain way, rather than showing or implying it). You also managed to allude to many things, both the plot and your protaganist's past - painful memories of a ?lost? sibling, some unseen menace in relation to the Apex, etc. It carries so much gravity, for me, because it says so much with so little without falling into "cliche dream sequence" territory.
The sink part is pretty unnecessary, after I re-examined it. And the description's weird I was experimenting with that kind of "dream sequence" stuff. Glad to see it worked out!
Hey, this is pretty good! I have to agree the occasional repition annoyed me a little, but other than that there was a good balance of detail and plot. I would definetely like to read another chapter.
Ooh, I just realized you added this story to your sig. Thanks! And as for the review -- what do you mean by repetition?
I really like where this is going. Very well done so far, that aside I do actually have just a little critique, not a lot because I don't know a ton about english stuff, but just a bit. I'd only suggest you imply a little more emotion into the character's when they're speaking. Just a little more. You did it well at a few points but they could do with a little more color. Also, at some points in the story it was a little hard to determine who was talking. If your going to format it kind of like a script I'd suggest names by the sentances. things like that. Like I said though, I'm not "learned" in the ways of english or literature, so don't take my words too much to heart.
Well, your words are certainly valid -- if the characters don't feel authentic, then they don't feel authentic. Thanks for taking the time to read it, though! The next update is coming pretty slow -- I'm finalizing the plot for the next few "sections" and rounding off my characters.
