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Post by Jenny (Reffy) on Jun 29, 2014 15:48:17 GMT -5
Stardate 87226.1 Update to King Fisher transportation journal
We managed to get lift off Aurala but at great cost. The port-side thrusters took a lot of damage on exit. We’re not sure of the exact damage yet. I’ve not told the passengers; I don’t want to deflate their hopes. The engineer thinks it will take weeks to fix already. I sent him to the engine room earlier to investigate ... the early reports weren’t great.
“Damn this tin-can of a spaceship!” Losing his temper Roberts finally punched the wobbly, rusted, panel back into place. The ship groaned back responding in pain to its carer. “I can’t figure it out.” Various tools rolled across the floor as he kicked out and away from the panel.
“Don’t take it out on the machine,” Jessy chirped, stroking the metal with a small pale hand comforting the ship. "It's not her fault."
He slumped back against the another grey beaten panel and allowed his head to rest in his hands. “Sorry. It just … feels so useless,” came his muffled voice after a while.
In this covered position Roberts rust coloured hair is slumped over most of his face. A few days old stubble pokes through the gaps his fingers have created. He’s probably middle forties but looks a lot older due to the cranky, worn, callused skin and deep scarring wrinkles that cover his hands. He’s not in good shape either but then nobody really is. His clothes hang from him like an old fashioned scarecrow in a field of mud and muck.
The girl, Jessy, isn't much better. She's wearing a dress that was probably colourful back in it's heyday; now it's muted and mostly grey and with more holes than Swiss cheese. She's also covered in muck making her look slightly tanned. Her once light hair is now matted and strangled and struggles to reach passed her shoulders. The only remarkable thing about the young girl, probably about eight, is her eyes which are deep blue eyes like the colour the oceans used to be.
"Not useless. Just difficult."
Stardate 87229.2 Update to King Fisher transportation journal
One week. One week we've been stuck here.
Roberts confirmed my fears. We've lost the port-side thruster. There's fuel pouring out and going back into the atmosphere. We're not far enough out to drift as we're caught in the gravity spin.
The ship's in a lot of pain and we can't help her. She needs another Vilituar to make the repairs. That's part of the problem with organic ships. We can't fix it with tools. They need to grow it and this one doesn't have enough food.
The crew and passengers are starting to get angry. They've figure out something is wrong. I've had to ration the supplies but that's only making matters worse. I've started routinely sending out an S.O.S messages, fishing for anybody listening, but we're light-years away from the next space-hub.
"He got more than me!" Philip sounded like a little child but in a way that was what he felt like. A child that wasn't allowed what he wanted and needed.
"Everybody gets the same. Please move along," the canteen staff were trying to be patient but the cracks were showing. The dull droll didn't help matters and neither did the 'I don't care' look that showed all over her greasy face. Even her actions were lethally depressive with sunken shoulders and sloppy handiwork. The gruel, for it could only be called that or slop, was dished out by a ladle which was slapped around.
Tension was riding high and in complete control. It had become so bad that guards were stationed in the cold white canteen and rotations had been devised. Right now a fight was building in the overcrowded canteen. Even those more placid in nature were eager to see something done. The rebel was bouldered by a few shouts of agreement.
"Move along."
"No!"
Shoving his tray to one side Philip made to jump over the counter. He didn't get a chance to get behind the counter before the guards were on him. He was hurled back by one and another jumped on his back.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The guard was pulled from Philip's back by the next in the queue. He was spun around and punched square in the jaw by another lanky looking man who was already missing teeth. Another grabbed the other guard and was attempting to take a bite out of his shoulder.
"Raise the alarm, Jean!" Armed with a ladle, one of the servers got involved. The alarm was almost deafening but it did the job. More guards were on the way while the fight continued.
The person trying to take a bite of guard didn't succeed but lost some teeth in the process. She'd never look the same with that gap in her once pretty smile. Somebody else broke an arm with an audible snap and scream. The rest would probably escape with cuts and nasty bruises.
Stardate 87232.3 Update to King Fisher transportation journal
Two weeks. Two weeks of just drifting.
We've had some contact from a freight ship in regards to the S.O.S. They don't have what we need to fix the ship but were able to drop off some supplies. They promised to carry the message further to see if they could find another Vilituar to help us. The extra supplies have eased some of the quarrels amongst the crew and passengers. I've had to tell them what's going on. I had hoped to keep it secret for longer. Seeing their faces sag as the reality touched each one of them was heartbreaking.
I had a report from Aurala yesterday. The lubricant from the broken broken thruster is leaking back into the atmosphere. It's confirmed. A few of the local wildlife reserves have been polluted. Their government isn't happy. They can't help.
Things don't look great.
"I hate being here."
"I hate it more."
"Wish we'd stayed on Aurala," Shelly pawed at the port-hole which looked down on the slowly rotating world below. The large clouds of dust swirled there only and occasionally parting to show the great mountain ranges and massive, glimmering domes. Down there they had huge reserves isolated in giant bubbles with artificially created living zones. Each bubble had a new type of habitat from the lush green jungles to sun-swept beaches. You could pick what you like.
Tori pipped up. "Wish we'd never gone to Aurala in the first place." She was lazily dangling over a cargo crate which had long been emptied for it's supplies. She had a baggy top on and short shorts and plaited brown hair.
Shelly turned, a little surprised. The movement caught her short curly hair which bounced dutifully. "You hated it back at home."
"Not as much as I hate it here," she sighed and repositioned for comfort reasons.
The corridor they were in was hot and sweaty. Grease lined the walls. The air filtration system had long since broken down. Yesterday the captain of the ship had started trying to save energy. This resulted in rolling black-outs throughout the ship. They were in one now. The only source of light coming from the dusty planet.
Stardate 87258.4 Update to King Fisher transportation journal
The freight ship sent back a message. They found another Vilituar. It's just a matter of waiting now.
But that's part of the problem. We cannot wait any longer. The food has ran out. There are no supplies.
Aurala won't help us. They've had to evacuate two of the domes.
Our sick-bay is overwhelmed. We lost another 11 people to a disease which has swept over the ship.
"Mayday. Mayday. This is captain Dominic of the King Fisher requesting assistance. Mayday. Mayday. This is captain Dominic of the King Fisher …"
The sound of the emergency call has long since drowned itself from Dominic's mind. He barely hears it now. The captain's room is the only one in which full power is still operational. Everywhere else has resorted to emergency back-up with rolling black-outs every hour. He's on the captain's chair hardly awake to his surroundings. His head is lolled backwards and his mouth is fully open. He's grown a full beard since leaving the planet and has reversely lost a lot of hair too. There's bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights and unrest of the last two months.
It's been nearly a month since they last heard from the freight ship. The time has crawled. Even the passengers have given up now. It's been at least three weeks since the last fight. People don't have the energy any more.
His head lulls around again and he coughs as he snaps out of the trance. Sleep doesn't come. "H-hello?"
The recording replies. "Mayday. Mayday. This is captain Dominic …"
Knowing it was probably just a nightmare he shuffles and tries to get comfortable again. It's not easy and his mouth is so dry it could be a desert.
"Mayday received. Confirm receipt of this message, captain Dominic?"
Dominic squeezes his eyes closed. It's just another dream or a hallucination. If he could only get some shut up or something to stop his stomach growling. That's all it's been these last few days: if only. If only he hadn't gone to Aurala. If only he hadn't left Aurala. If only he'd checked the thrusters. If only they'd packed more supplies.
"Captain Dominic?"
Just a hallucination. Dominic sits up suddenly, falling from the chair with a thud. "This-this is captain Dominic." He can barely find the breath to talk and ends up in a coughing fit.
"We were contacted by the freight ship. They said something about a Vilituar in trouble. Confirm your coordinates."
The voice was crackly but it was definitely there. He couldn't believe it. "How far are you out? We're five, two point nine around Aurala."
"Less than two days."
Stardate 87265.5 Update to King Fisher transportation journal
The Vilituar Corbenic has been able to repair the damage to our ship. They were less than two days. The place is buzzing again. I can hear the familiar thrum from the ship as well. She'd gone awfully quiet towards the end. We'll be on our way soon. Thank the gods!
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Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Jun 30, 2014 9:16:39 GMT -5
Main craft - Entering planetary orbit – T-minus 2 minutes
Releasing shuttle from main craft
Shuttle – Set for impact – T-minus 8 minutes
Main craft - Firing manoeuvring jets
Main craft - Entering high orbit
Shuttle - on direct trajectory to impact – T-minus 6 minutes
Please wear your seatbelt
Parsival felt the hard jolt as the shuttle was detached from their mothership, the cybernetic voice relaying the process in his head piece. Strapped in, he could barely move and could only watch as the brown and green planet began to grow on the feed from the outside cameras. Beside him were the rest of his team; the cyborg Felicita, their heavy weapons specialist Gunther, and their shuttle pilot Xi. All of them had a deep feeling of anticipation and anxiety.
The planet they were descending rapidly towards was shrouded in so much mystery and legend that it could be traced back to almost every star systems origin story. It was a planet where it is said that every human came from, and its name was Earth. And Parsival and his team were the first people to lay eyes on it in over a thousand years.
They had been recruited by a system lord in the turbulent Pleiades star cluster, a region of space ruled by vicious pirate queens and kings who roamed in large battle fleets. Their task was to navigate a region of space revealed by an ancient star map and more importantly return with an artefact known as the G.R.A.I.L.
No one on his team knew what they were looking for, only a name and he doubted the system lord knew anything either. None of them knew what they were likely to find on the planet as well. The only useful information they could attain was that the artefact contained an immense power, something that could hold sway over an entire planet. It was that piece of information that persuaded the system lord to offer up ten million credits as a reward, and it was the credits that got the attention of Parsival’s team.
“Daydreaming, boss?” Gunther said, out of the corner of his mouth; they had hit the outer atmosphere and the shuttle was shaking hard.
“Was thinking about how I’d spend my share of the reward” Parsival grinned back.
“How about we focus on getting the damn thing first” Felicita drawled, she was always quick to focus on the mission at hand.
The shuttle gave a hard jolt and flames began to lick at the outside cameras, the heat shield the only thing protecting the bottom of the shuttle.
“This is going to be a rough one, this atmosphere is thick, and mostly Carbon dioxide, methane and Nitrogen.”
Their pilot was hunched over the controls, keeping a wary eye on the readouts. He didn’t need to do much during entry, but he didn’t like the feeling of helplessness.
“Once we get to the Troposphere, I can home in on the power signature we picked up; hopefully I can land you guys near it.”
Xi was talking about the only and quite large power source that they managed to observe from the main craft. It was almost enough to power a city, but seemed to come from a rather small point on the planet surface. As it was their only lead to go one, they had agreed to make for whatever it was when they made planet side.
“You heard him; we’re wearing environment masks on this one. Once Xi drops us off, he is going to return to orbit and wait for a signal for evac” Parsival ordered has he brought his helmet down, the clear visor showing just his face.
Around him the other two were doing the same, their own visors lighting up with blue HUDs. Since the air was mostly CO2 they just needed the scrubbers, and didn’t have to rely on the tanks. This meant they only had to worry about supplies while they were on the planet, and with the shuttle keeping an eye on them, they weren’t too worried about that.
As the shuttle began to calm down, finally making its entry into the troposphere, the cameras became momentarily shrouded in dense cloud. The clouds were black, leaving stains on the cameras before the grime was purged by the cleaning lasers. Eventually though, the shuttle broke out of the smog and in to a drab expanse.
The image before them was disheartening and disturbing. For as far as the horizon stretched the land was mostly desert or barren rock. Off in the distance were what looked like large shallow pools of water, but their blue-green tint, along with the lack of life suggested they had succumbed to high acidity. It could be easily mistaken for some dead planet; if it wasn’t for the massive tower dominating the landscape.
Looming up some one thousand metres over the landscape, it was covered in some chrome looking metal that reflected the little sunlight that made it past the clouds. It seemed perfectly smooth with no exterior fixtures, not even windows. The only opening seemed to be its crown, which was made of what looked like claws grasping a sphere. Overall the tower looked like the perfect limb of some dead giant, desperately reaching out of the sand.
“Fuck me…” whispered the static voice from Gunther’s radio.
“We’re going to have some trouble getting that home, if it’s the Grail.”
“Let’s hope it’s not Xi, can you fly us to the top of it?” replied Parsival, his eyes locked on the strange sphere at its top.
In response, Xi angled the shuttle back up and the rest of the crew felt the G’s kick in. As they began to close on the sphere, a series of red blinked on and Xi suddenly started scrambling around at the console.
“Shit, something happening” he mumbled. As he spoke lightning began to coalesce around the tower.
“Yeah fuck this” Xi spat and peeled the shuttle away from the building, the energy around the tower immediately dying down.
“I think you’re going to have to walk” Xi said as he aimed the shuttle down towards the base of the tower.
…
Stepping out of the hovering shuttle, Parsival, Felicita and Gunther checked their gear, including the light magnetic rifles they carried. Even though they hadn’t seen any hostiles, or anything living at all, they erred on the side of caution. Standing on the planet surface made it quite clear that the biggest killer was the intense heat and unforgiving sand. The wind managed to pick it up in gusts and obscure much of their vision.
“This place fucking sucks” grumbled Gunther, trying to get a bearing with his HUD. Before landing they had placed a waypoint on the tower to help them navigate.
“Stop complaining and keep an eye out, we still have half a kilometre of this before we reach the base of the tower” Felicita said in a professional voice, her electronic right eye gazing out over the dunes.
Gunther eyed Felicita, annoyed.
“I know you have a servo up your arse, but try and at least act human.”
In response Felicita sharply turned and stared at Gunther, but before she could act Parsival held up his hand.
“I don’t need you children fighting, or I’m going to call back Xi and send us home.”
The two just watched each other for a split second, staring daggers, before giving into Parsival’s command and taking up opposite sides of him. Altogether they headed towards the indomitable tower, each them anxious to what they may find. Already their mission was starting show the cracks in the team’s cohesion.
They had barely set out before they back at each other’s throats.
“I know you won’t send us back Boss, I can see those credits dancing in your eyes from here.”
Parsival looked to Gunther and grinned.
“Besides, Felicita needs to loosen up or she’s going to get us into some shitfest.”
“It’s you ineptitude that gets us in trouble; maybe you should show some professionalism.”
Gunthers head snapped to Felicita, her had to look up slightly since her cybernetic legs gave her an impressive seven foot height.
“Oh the robot bitch wants to start something huh?”
Filicita’s eyes narrowed at the robot slur and Parsival just did his best to ignore the two.
“I was just pointing out that your lack of responsibility has gotten us in trouble in the past.”
“Listen here tin-pot,” snapped Gunther “I saved your metal arse at that fancy party!”
“Only after you insulted the Star Corp executive and got us surrounded by security drones!” Felicita snapped back.
Since he was barely listening, Parsival was the first to notice something atop a sand dune before them. Stopping in his tracks, the other two nearly ran into him.
“Boss, what the he-“
Gunther cut himself short once he noticed the tall figure striding down the dune towards him. Wrapped in strange clothes and almost as tall as Felicita, they struck a striking figure. They also weren’t alone; from around them more of the figures came out from behind the dunes, surrounding them.
Parsival stuck out a hand and forced Gunther’s gun down, knowing that any sudden movements or threats could get them killed. Instead he waited for the figure to approach, trying to seem as welcoming as possible.
“Hi”
“Seriously… hi?” Felicita whispered to him.
“Shut up, what else can I say?”
The figure seemed to observe for a few moments before it let out a rattling hiss. The trio stood stunned for a second, confused as to what the creature was doing. Finally it seemed to cock its head before removing its hood. As the cloth was removed, the three let out an audible gasp, Gunther physically recoiling in shock.
The creature was not pleasing to the eye. Its face was a purple reddish hue and bloated like that of a chocking victim. Its eyes were red and set behind fat folds of flesh. What skin wasn’t left bare was coated in long grey fur, the same stuff the cloth seemed to be made of. Once more it gave a hiss, inflections in the sound suggesting it was trying to communicate.
Trying to keep their composure, the three shrugged in confusion towards the creatures attempts. Eventually it seemed to sigh and instead pointed towards the tower, beckoning them to follow.
“I, I guess we follow… It” said Parsival, slowly taking off after it; his companions silently falling in step behind him.
Their new host made quick time through the sands, their disfigured guide seemingly knowing of shortcuts unnoticeable to the group. Only an hour passed before they reached the smooth base of the tower, an hour spent in nervous silence. Once they had reached the tower, their new friend turned back to face them, withdrawing something from his hair-stitched clothes. It was some ancient piece of technology.
“Looks like an old holo-vid” muttered Felicita.
Brushing a gnarled finger across the device, it sprang to life, except instead of a holographic message, it just emitted a series of high and low pitches. Before them sand began to shake and spread out away from the tower and then slowly a door began to rise up, revealing a hidden entrance.
Several of the creatures along with their guide entered the structure; Parsival glanced at the other two and shook his shoulders. They then followed the creatures into the tower, their hands close to their rifles in case of any sudden attack. What awaited them inside took their breath away and left them stunned.
“Well I’ll be damned” whistled Gunther, his face in amazement at the interior of the building.
The entire tower was hollow in its centre. It would probably have been pitch black within as well, but the sphere from above gave off a low light that filtered down past hundreds of floors. Each floor itself seemed to have been made up of office blocks, but now they had been converted in to homes for the creatures. Much of it left to ruin, but the metal walls and floor meant little had actually degraded.
In the centre was a large plinth, a stone with strange symbol craved into it and atop it were three statues. The statues seemed to be human, yet they were dressed in strange armour, the centre one was holding up some sort of cup. Their guide had made his way over and was now pointing towards the statues and back to them.
“I think we were expected” Parsival said, making his way over to the sculpture.
“More likely we have fallen into some sort fabricated belief of theirs, maybe we are meant to be some sort of saviour?” responded Felicita.
Their guide seemed to get more excited as they studied the statue and this time it began pointing over towards the wall. Built into it was another door, this one had next to it some sort of keypad. Both of them had been kept clean of any dust, and were covered in red markings. Waving its hand at them, it had them follow it over to the door.
“I think that’s an elevator, I wonder if it still work” Felicita said, scanning it with her HUD.
“Maybe one of these… things has the keycode” Gunther said, eyeing the creatures as they began to group up around them.
“Doubt it, more likely they just worship it.”
Watching them talk, the guide reached into its cloths and once again withdraw another object, this one seemed to be a stone, engraved in it were four symbols. Each symbol on it matched one of the ones on the keypad.
“Well, this is just getting too easy” muttered Parsival as he took the object and walked up to the keypad.
Entering them in the sequence on the stone, the keypad gave what he hoped was an affirmative note and flashed green. There was a silent pause before they heard a large thunk and the sound of old magnetic strips inside the shaft beginning to spring to life. They did not need to wait long before the elevator descended to ground level.
There a ping sound and the door rolled back to allow them to enter. Due to its size, they could only fit with their guide and even then it was rather cramped. As they got in, standing awkwardly up against the walls, the guide pressed a button at the top of a list of them. Once again the doors rolled closed and they felt the elevator begin to quickly rise up through the hundreds of levels.
Overly cheerful and annoying music began to play over speakers.
“The fuck is that noise?” Gunther growled, looking around for the source.
“Apparently they had elevator music a thousand years ago, fantastic” Parsival said, shaking his head in disgust.
Luckily they didn’t need to endure it for long and the elevator soon found itself arriving at the top floor. Stepping out, the three looked around and found themselves standing before another door. This one seemed even more high-tech then the elevator, with a still working force field emitting around it.
The rest of the room seemed like an office space. Beside the elevator were a row of refuse of what looked to be former couches and the ground looked to once have plush carpet, now ripped up and swathes of it removed. It also led out to a balcony that overlooked the inside of the tower; dew clinging to the windows showed that the tower had its own weather this high up. Other than that the room also had a weird sculpture of what looked like some sort of plant, with thorns.
“Well how do we make it past the force field?” Felicita said, observing how it didn’t seem to have way to access it from outside. Meanwhile Gunther began to explore the room.
As if in response, the guide walked towards it and stood there. Once more, it took the recorder it had used to open the hidden door and played it once more, with a hiss the field deactivated and the door unlocked. Parsival turned to Gunther and mentioned for him to move along. Turning away from the sculpture Gunther let out a yelp and shook his hand before sucking on it.
“Pricked myself, fuck.”
“Get over it and get a move on” Parsival said rolling his eyes.
Grumbling, Gunther began to take the lead on the way through the doorway when their guide suddenly grab his arm and pulled it towards it.
“What the fuck!” Gunther yelled, ripping his arm back and kicking the guide aside.
“Gunther wait!” Parsival shouted.
But the guide seemed unconcerned by the violence; instead it just stared at the drop of blood Gunther’s wound had left on its hand. It looked at it intently before looking back up at them, its red eyes narrowing. It then began to screech a sound that echoed out into the tower and down to the creatures waiting below.
“Well fuck! What the fuck is its problem now!?” Gunther roared; bring his rifle to bear on it.
“I think we just lost our divine status…” Felicita said with finality to her tone.
Before either she or Parsival could act, Gunther unloaded a shot into the guide head, dropping it like a sack of meat.
“There, problem solved, now we ca-“but before he could finish his sentence, the sound of hundreds of the creatures screeching a reply could be heard echoing back up the tower. The sound was getting closer as they made short work climbing up it.
“Fuck!” Parsival swore prepping his own rifle.
“Parsival, go on ahead.”
The two men looked at Felicita as she prepped her own weapon and strode towards the balcony.
“The hell you are recruiting me for some last stand!” Gunther said in reply.
“From here we have the advantage over them, especially with the rifle.”
“And when they overrun us?”
“We retreat through the entrance and blow it, all we need to do is give Parsival time to get the Grail and bring down the defences stopping Xi getting close.”
Gunther muttered a series of curses under his breath before he reloaded his rifle. Meanwhile Felicita was already getting set up on the balcony, watching as the screeching horde swarmed up the sides of the building, bounding past floors with the clawed limbs.
“Fuck it, I’m not going to let that bitch show me up.”
Parsival watched as Gunther made his own way to the balcony, his gun at the ready. Surprise would be an understatement; he had not expected the man to take up arms beside the cyborg. He felt a new found respect for him. As he made his way through the doorway, his team started to open fire.
Ignoring the shots and screams behind him, he began jogging down the corridor. It, unlike the rest of the building seemed in good shape, with light blue lights above to illuminate the white floor and walls. It also was very long, eventually coming to the end of a set of stairs that seemed to lead up to some green light.
Making his way up them, he entered a room that made him entirely forget about what was happening behind him. It was the sound of running water that first caught him off guard, shortly after is eyes adjusted to the bright light it was the lush trees and grass shocked him. The entire sphere seemed to be a self-contained paradise.
Green grass and trees surrounded a pond at the centre with a small cottage set aside it. The pond itself was more like a small lake, and seemed to be teeming with fish. Finally Parsival noticed the old man sitting on a chair beside the lake, a fishing pole in his old wizened hands. A long grey beard descended from his face and he wore a shirt that had a tartan pattern and old weathered jeans.
“So you finally made it.”
“You… You can speak, hell, your human?” Parsival asked, cautiously edging around the side of the entire the scene.
“It is likely whatever translator you are using has picked up a common linguistic ancestor. And yes, I am human.”
Parsival was far too confused to pay much attention to the man’s words; instead he took a ready stance and kept searching the room for the Grail.
“I won’t let you see it until you hear my story and the story of this planet. It is for the best I believe” the man said, laying down the fishing pole and standing up. The man seemed to flicker as he moved and Parsival realised it was a hologram, likely that the original man was long dead.
Parsival paused and eyed the man, “Okay then, let’s hear it.”
The old man nodded and smiled; his face lighting up, an act that just accentuated its age.
“I am the creator of the G.R.A.I.L, my name is unimportant now, but I guess the creatures outside refer to me as their King. A reference long lost to them I suspect.”
Parsival had no idea what he meant, and the confusion on his face was picked up by the man.
“A thousand years ago, the humans of this planet decided that instead of heading into the stars along with their brethren, they would instead attempt to master this planet. I was one of them and I helped design a device that would allow us to achieve that.”
“The Grail, right?” Parsival asked.
“Yes, the Grail, as you call it. That is obviously not the entire story. For a time we lived in luxury, getting everything we needed from the planet, but peace and sanctuary breeds negligence and people capable of understanding the device dwindled as we gave ourselves over to decadence and greed. Eventually I was all that was left of the original team.
That may not have been a problem, but I grew old and age takes what it gives, and I began to fail to remember important information about the device. Eventually its influence shrank until all it could support was this single room. The humans unfortunate to still live were left to the wastes of a dying Earth; you met their children out there.”
Parsival recoiled in horror that the creatures from before were human descendants.
“Yes that is why I wanted you to understand what the G.R.A.I.L can do. It is much a destroyer as a saviour.”
Holding out his hand, a flash of light surrounded it a small object materialised and floated just before the hologram.
“This is the G.R.A.I.L, but before you can take it, you must answer a question for me.”
“Shoot” Parsival said, warily.
“Why do you want it?”
Parsival paused before he spoke and eyed the man.
“It has been a millennium since and human has stepped on this planet. My crew was hired to retrieve the artefact for a powerful lord in a faraway star system.”
“I see.”
Before Parsival could retrieve it, the man’s hand closed around the device and it disappeared. Parsival tried to rush the hologram, but there was a taste of copper in the air before he was flung back to the ground, his body in pain. Struggling on the ground he felt his muscles spasm against his will.
“That answer is unacceptable.”
An explosion momentarily distracted Parsival and he looked back towards where his teammates were. Felicita and Gunther were hurrying up the stairs, their bodies covered in blood and soot. Felicita was missing her rifle, her hands covered in gore.
“We blew the door, but I don’t think it will hold” Gunther managed to get out between gasps.
Parsival managed to pick himself up and nodded before turning back to the hologram. But it was gone, along with what they had come for.
“Damn it!” he snarled trying to look for a clue.
“What? Did you find the Grail?” Felicita asked, anxiously looking back down the corridor.
“No…” Parsival said in resignation.
“Guys, I don’t know what you did but I think the defences are down, I can get close to the sphere now. Do you want me to get you now?”
It was Xi, they could see the shuttle hovering near the opening they had originally attempted to get near.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here” Parsival said before he and the other two began sprinting for the shuttle. Looking back once more he whispered.
“I’ll be back for it, I promise you that.”
As the shuttle peeled away into the sky, the hologram faded back into reality, once more sitting at the lake. The screeching of its subjects quietened when they realised their prey had escaped and instead they filed back to their homes. Looking down at the fish swimming lazily the old man mused, a thousand years and they remained the same; the fish never changed.
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Post by James on Jul 5, 2014 3:41:57 GMT -5
Reffy
Hmm.
There's some good and some bad here. I feel like the good outweighs the bad, though. I like the idea of the story. An organic ship stuck in the atmosphere, people trapped, the potential for an environmental disaster below is just a really terrific plot. And you mostly delivered on it. I liked that you showed the impact on the planet below instead of just forgetting about it. I also really enjoyed your use of characters – you didn't get bogged down in one, but instead showed us the whole ship through different sets of eyes. Great idea.
Perhaps, I wanted a little more of the sense of claustrophobia and dread. You gave us some but I think you could have really hammered home the point. Really painted the picture of these people, in effect, waiting to die on a ship they could not escape from.
My main concern, though, was how direct the narrative was. It was so direct, I almost felt it was a conscious decision on your behalf and if it was, I'm not sure it worked. You took 'telling not showing' to an extreme that I felt I was being spoon fed everything as a reader. For example:
“"He got more than me!" Philip sounded like a little child but in a way that was what he felt like.”
“The person trying to take a bite of guard didn't succeed but lost some teeth in the process. She'd never look the same with that gap in her once pretty smile. Somebody else broke an arm with an audible snap and scream. The rest would probably escape with cuts and nasty bruises.”
It was so... clinical. This is what happened. This is how they felt. Then this happened. At times, it almost wasn't a story but a journal article of some historical event. Give your characters and plot room to breathe. Let the setting feel natural. For instance, allow one of the above examples to become:
“He got more than me!” Philip cried. The man next to him almost turned to tell him off, confusing him for his small child. Philip didn't stop complaining. He was being treated exactly like the man's young son.
But, on the whole, it was a nice story. I liked the use of the Fisher King story in an imaginative way, great work there. The Dying Earth genre was a little more iffy, I'm not quite sure you caught the atmosphere of it but you were at least nearly there.
Definitely an improvement on your first round story (as was your second round story which was very good and I forgot to tell you that seeing as I wasn't your judge at the time).
Dragon
The 'Please wear your seatbelt' was a stroke of subtle humour that I really enjoyed after a string of jargon for a start. It's these little things that really give a story an atmosphere.
Unfortunately, that may have been the highlight. And that's not saying this is a bad story. It's not the worst story I've judged so far. But I think you can do better with more practice under your belt. Among several other people, we need to keep you writing and sharing beyond competitions.
I'm torn about the story. I feel you were almost a little too blunt with the Fisher King element but I also enjoyed the concept. I think you also captured the genre better than Reffy did. A hologram guardian protecting life-changing technology to a person who is “pure of heart” is also really fantastic. That is such a great blurring of the line between fantasy and science fiction that I really enjoyed that. I also think you setted a nice scene.
However, the characters were awful. I mean that both ways. Firstly, the characters themselves were not likeable, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But there was one point where you had your main character “respecting” Gunther for fighting alongside Felicita and I was just sitting there going: really? Their team-mates, they should be fighting alongside each other. And all the dick has done is whined the entire time. Arsehole. The fact that I disliked Gunther is a good job. The fact that the narrative seems completely unaware that he's a dick isn't so good.
But also, they were quite one dimensional. They were pirates. They wanted money. There was a bit of tension but in a one dimensional way itself. They didn't seem real. Which isn't a normal problem of yours so maybe it was just a bad day at the office for you. But I think you needed a strong cast of characters to really make the story work.
So overall, not bad, but room for improvement. And I don't have any doubts in your capacity to improve.
This is just as hard a call as Silver v Inkdrinker was. Reffy had the better use of the Fisher King. Dragon had the better use of the Dying Earth genre. Both had strong elements in their story. Both pieces had their flaws. Both were littered with mistakes that you guys should try to be clearing up: commas, missing words, etc.
A big call. I'm going to have to give it, barely, to Reffy. I think hers was the better story. Ultimately, if it wasn't for the clinical, direct feel of the narrative, I wouldn't have had many complaints. Dragon, you're nearly there. I know you're hunting for your first win and you went close. I reckon you can grab one or two by the tournament end.
VICTOR: REFFY
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