First Story
Heist
Join Date: 2002-11-09 Member: 7922Members
Join Date: 2002-11-09 Member: 7922Members
<div class="IPBDescription">Need initial feedback.</div> ----------------------------------
Why he had signed on for this trip was anyone's best guess. He remembered the day he left. "Be better son. Make a difference.". His father's words rang with an ironic beat. Whatever the reason was , it was a bad reason. Anything was better than this. Anything. He'd made a difference alright.
A few strands of light peered through the grate above him, the familiar shadow pattern on the metal floor was burned into his mind now. Kneeling against the rusted bulkhead, hands tightly wrapped around the handle of his TSA issued pistol, Michael was merely a outline in the near darkness. He'd been sitting there an hour. Sitting, hiding, waiting, praying for a miracle. The sounds had died to a faint memory now, but he heard them as loud as ever. Scratching, tapping, the unearthly shudders haunted his very soul.
The last sane thing Michael remembered was exiting the airlock. Three fully armed marines, well almost marines, had hurried through the final pressurization and into the old station. They had been careless, but try telling that to the happy go lucky group of friends that had set out. After being cooped up in dorm rooms with books and manuals for 6 weeks, who could blame them for being excited. They had every right to be the first ones in.
He shifted uneasily onto his right knee. A sharp sound cut into his short lived respite. An uneven tap like the edge of a knife resonated into the metal. Leaning hard on the wall he placed his finger on the trigger. Beads of sweat raced down his forehead forming droplets just under his eyebrows. As each drop hit the floor he cursed the magnified echo. Michael slowed his breathing into silence. The razor sharp tapping grew to an unimaginable pitch. With every new second came an agonizing scrape. Overhead now the sound was unbearable. Drawn to the flickering he saw the disturbed shadows trace every movement of the creature above.
Now was the time. He had to catch the creature unaware. Michael jumped to his right, his side brushing the floor as he took aim. Startled by the sudden movement the creature leaped into the darkness. A shrill cry filled the air. Jaws wide, white, sharp teeth protruding from a blood red throat, the creature hurtled towards the sliding marine. It was met by the cold lead from a now emptied pistol.
Michael landed hard on the cold floor, his armor screeching with every inch of momentum. In the cramped access passage he slid into right into the wall, jolting his senses and leaving him motionless on the floor. The creature, now lifeless, had landed a few feet in front of him. Thick green liquid seeped from the wounds, rivers formed, cascading down the sticky unhuman skin and onto the metal below. The menacing jaw was now cracked and broken, along with the life within.
Several minutes past before the Michael had the strength to move. His own blood, trickling, from underneath his buckled shoulder pad, was the only trace of humanity in the small corridor. Opening his eyes slowly, the injured marine examined the creature.
He recognized it. He had seen this creature before. In books, textbooks, but not like this. Using his left arm for leverage Michael rolled onto his back. He lay there, still dazed, and stared at the roof. The walkway, a few feet off the floor, sat to his left. Slowly, dimly, the emergency lights that guarded the edge pulsated their red message down the hall. With everything he had Michael sat up. The slow hum of the station was the only sound in his ears. Michael grabbed the walkway, pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to examine his kill.
Skulk. What a fitting name. A sneaky creature that moved with an uneasy grace. Nothing he had seen in pictures compared to this. Nothing was as disgusting. Nothing was as brutal. The tired marine, now over his fear, reached down to prod the lifeless mass. Unable to make out details in the dimly lit hall, Michael expected to feel a thick brittle carapace around the skin. What he felt though, was not brittle, not tough. It was a sticky epidermal layer, soft to the touch. No wonder his bullets had taken it down so quickly.
Hunched over and focused on the skulk, Michael never heard a sound. Not a single sound. A second skulk slowly crept down the wall. Gingerly stepping onto the walkway, the new predator maneuvered itself behind the inexperienced marine on the floor below. In total silence the creature advanced, it's red eyes cracked and it's razor claws stepping soundlessly on the walkway grating. Michael shifted uneasily. An intense fear ran up his spine and into his neck. His hair, standing on edge, served to instill an ominous dread in his heart. He strained a deep breath. Now feet away from his back the skulk crouched back on its legs and leapt forward.
From above his savior emerged, another marine lunged from the corridor. A noticeable reflection from the unsheathed knife traced an arc along the wall and disappeared as the blade was lodged into the creature. Michael spun around instinctively and fell backward at the sight. Deep inside the creature only the engraved handle tip could be seen inside the marine’s clutched fists. Still shaking, the unknown hero was stretched out on the unforgiving metal, his grasp on the knife still firm. The lifeless skulk was twisted uneasily over a small indention the floor.
Michael sought the man’s face. The recognition was instantaneous. Although he did not know the identity of the man, the feeling of relief was overwhelming. In the midst of all the hell, another friendly face, a squad member. Michael’s attention was suddenly drawn to a small hole in the face shield. A crack in the glass cut its way from the hole to the corner of the shield. He noticed a gash over the marine’s eye. Through the glass he could see the blood streaming down the cheek and into the armor. On closer inspection Michael noticed a small ivory protrusion from the middle of the cut. A lerk spike. The marine was dying.
Quickly Michael removed the helmet and placed it on the floor. The marine’s breathing was slow and strained. With each breath his chest would rise and fall a little less. Michael stared at the face of the soldier he was holding. The black residue left from the leather lining in the helmet was mingling with the blood and glass shards.
The marine let out a short groan. He wanted Michael’s attention, wanted to tell him something. The words were whisper quiet and Michael had to lean closer.
“My commander…” The marine agonized over each word. “The video chip….” another groan.
“Get it to him…..”.
With that final phrase the marine’s mouth fell silent and only the faint wheezing of a dying man could be heard. Michael held him an hour as he slipped in and out of consciousness until he breathed no more.
----------------------------------
The will to continue on overcame him and Michael grasped the helmet of his fallen comrade to examine it. On the back side, an impression at least one half inch deep showed signs of a jarring impact. This soldier had definitely been close to the explosion.
Michael lent back against the cold metal and put on the helmet. Sliding it on required more force than he expected. It was a tight fit. As he studied the hole from the inside an ominous feeling overcame him. Slightly above his left eye he imagined seeing the foul looking creature face to face, its eyes blazing with the same evil that had possessed the skulks. Michael shuddered at the thought.
Turning his attention to the video, Michael tapped the replay switch and closed his left eye. For a moment all he saw was darkness until a flicker gave way to an overwhelming bright. As Michael waited for his eye to adjust, he could hear that the audio was damaged so he turned the volume all the way down.
Images of a small squad filing down a narrow passageway slowly became clearer. They were moving quickly, but with definite caution. Yellow decals on the wall indicated the engineering deck and the ship insignia could be seen on each panel. Michael felt his stomach knot. It was the Trinity.
Watching the squad Michael recognized one of the men, a fellow class member from the academy. He had been given command over Michael’s squad during the academy drills and he deserved it. The man was a born leader and had not once failed to lead them to victory in whatever practice scenario was being enacted. That was why his group was the first assigned.
He was signaling orders now. The man looked exhausted, but there was determination in his eyes. He signaled for the squad to stop and strained to listen. Something had spooked them. Silently the marines separated onto both sides of the small corridor. Two men crouched on the left and stared down the thirty feet they could see before the corridor took a sharp turn. The cameraman hunched down behind the man on the right and began to examine each marine. He was nervous, it was obvious. They all were.
To be continued.
Why he had signed on for this trip was anyone's best guess. He remembered the day he left. "Be better son. Make a difference.". His father's words rang with an ironic beat. Whatever the reason was , it was a bad reason. Anything was better than this. Anything. He'd made a difference alright.
A few strands of light peered through the grate above him, the familiar shadow pattern on the metal floor was burned into his mind now. Kneeling against the rusted bulkhead, hands tightly wrapped around the handle of his TSA issued pistol, Michael was merely a outline in the near darkness. He'd been sitting there an hour. Sitting, hiding, waiting, praying for a miracle. The sounds had died to a faint memory now, but he heard them as loud as ever. Scratching, tapping, the unearthly shudders haunted his very soul.
The last sane thing Michael remembered was exiting the airlock. Three fully armed marines, well almost marines, had hurried through the final pressurization and into the old station. They had been careless, but try telling that to the happy go lucky group of friends that had set out. After being cooped up in dorm rooms with books and manuals for 6 weeks, who could blame them for being excited. They had every right to be the first ones in.
He shifted uneasily onto his right knee. A sharp sound cut into his short lived respite. An uneven tap like the edge of a knife resonated into the metal. Leaning hard on the wall he placed his finger on the trigger. Beads of sweat raced down his forehead forming droplets just under his eyebrows. As each drop hit the floor he cursed the magnified echo. Michael slowed his breathing into silence. The razor sharp tapping grew to an unimaginable pitch. With every new second came an agonizing scrape. Overhead now the sound was unbearable. Drawn to the flickering he saw the disturbed shadows trace every movement of the creature above.
Now was the time. He had to catch the creature unaware. Michael jumped to his right, his side brushing the floor as he took aim. Startled by the sudden movement the creature leaped into the darkness. A shrill cry filled the air. Jaws wide, white, sharp teeth protruding from a blood red throat, the creature hurtled towards the sliding marine. It was met by the cold lead from a now emptied pistol.
Michael landed hard on the cold floor, his armor screeching with every inch of momentum. In the cramped access passage he slid into right into the wall, jolting his senses and leaving him motionless on the floor. The creature, now lifeless, had landed a few feet in front of him. Thick green liquid seeped from the wounds, rivers formed, cascading down the sticky unhuman skin and onto the metal below. The menacing jaw was now cracked and broken, along with the life within.
Several minutes past before the Michael had the strength to move. His own blood, trickling, from underneath his buckled shoulder pad, was the only trace of humanity in the small corridor. Opening his eyes slowly, the injured marine examined the creature.
He recognized it. He had seen this creature before. In books, textbooks, but not like this. Using his left arm for leverage Michael rolled onto his back. He lay there, still dazed, and stared at the roof. The walkway, a few feet off the floor, sat to his left. Slowly, dimly, the emergency lights that guarded the edge pulsated their red message down the hall. With everything he had Michael sat up. The slow hum of the station was the only sound in his ears. Michael grabbed the walkway, pulled himself to his feet and staggered over to examine his kill.
Skulk. What a fitting name. A sneaky creature that moved with an uneasy grace. Nothing he had seen in pictures compared to this. Nothing was as disgusting. Nothing was as brutal. The tired marine, now over his fear, reached down to prod the lifeless mass. Unable to make out details in the dimly lit hall, Michael expected to feel a thick brittle carapace around the skin. What he felt though, was not brittle, not tough. It was a sticky epidermal layer, soft to the touch. No wonder his bullets had taken it down so quickly.
Hunched over and focused on the skulk, Michael never heard a sound. Not a single sound. A second skulk slowly crept down the wall. Gingerly stepping onto the walkway, the new predator maneuvered itself behind the inexperienced marine on the floor below. In total silence the creature advanced, it's red eyes cracked and it's razor claws stepping soundlessly on the walkway grating. Michael shifted uneasily. An intense fear ran up his spine and into his neck. His hair, standing on edge, served to instill an ominous dread in his heart. He strained a deep breath. Now feet away from his back the skulk crouched back on its legs and leapt forward.
From above his savior emerged, another marine lunged from the corridor. A noticeable reflection from the unsheathed knife traced an arc along the wall and disappeared as the blade was lodged into the creature. Michael spun around instinctively and fell backward at the sight. Deep inside the creature only the engraved handle tip could be seen inside the marine’s clutched fists. Still shaking, the unknown hero was stretched out on the unforgiving metal, his grasp on the knife still firm. The lifeless skulk was twisted uneasily over a small indention the floor.
Michael sought the man’s face. The recognition was instantaneous. Although he did not know the identity of the man, the feeling of relief was overwhelming. In the midst of all the hell, another friendly face, a squad member. Michael’s attention was suddenly drawn to a small hole in the face shield. A crack in the glass cut its way from the hole to the corner of the shield. He noticed a gash over the marine’s eye. Through the glass he could see the blood streaming down the cheek and into the armor. On closer inspection Michael noticed a small ivory protrusion from the middle of the cut. A lerk spike. The marine was dying.
Quickly Michael removed the helmet and placed it on the floor. The marine’s breathing was slow and strained. With each breath his chest would rise and fall a little less. Michael stared at the face of the soldier he was holding. The black residue left from the leather lining in the helmet was mingling with the blood and glass shards.
The marine let out a short groan. He wanted Michael’s attention, wanted to tell him something. The words were whisper quiet and Michael had to lean closer.
“My commander…” The marine agonized over each word. “The video chip….” another groan.
“Get it to him…..”.
With that final phrase the marine’s mouth fell silent and only the faint wheezing of a dying man could be heard. Michael held him an hour as he slipped in and out of consciousness until he breathed no more.
----------------------------------
The will to continue on overcame him and Michael grasped the helmet of his fallen comrade to examine it. On the back side, an impression at least one half inch deep showed signs of a jarring impact. This soldier had definitely been close to the explosion.
Michael lent back against the cold metal and put on the helmet. Sliding it on required more force than he expected. It was a tight fit. As he studied the hole from the inside an ominous feeling overcame him. Slightly above his left eye he imagined seeing the foul looking creature face to face, its eyes blazing with the same evil that had possessed the skulks. Michael shuddered at the thought.
Turning his attention to the video, Michael tapped the replay switch and closed his left eye. For a moment all he saw was darkness until a flicker gave way to an overwhelming bright. As Michael waited for his eye to adjust, he could hear that the audio was damaged so he turned the volume all the way down.
Images of a small squad filing down a narrow passageway slowly became clearer. They were moving quickly, but with definite caution. Yellow decals on the wall indicated the engineering deck and the ship insignia could be seen on each panel. Michael felt his stomach knot. It was the Trinity.
Watching the squad Michael recognized one of the men, a fellow class member from the academy. He had been given command over Michael’s squad during the academy drills and he deserved it. The man was a born leader and had not once failed to lead them to victory in whatever practice scenario was being enacted. That was why his group was the first assigned.
He was signaling orders now. The man looked exhausted, but there was determination in his eyes. He signaled for the squad to stop and strained to listen. Something had spooked them. Silently the marines separated onto both sides of the small corridor. Two men crouched on the left and stared down the thirty feet they could see before the corridor took a sharp turn. The cameraman hunched down behind the man on the right and began to examine each marine. He was nervous, it was obvious. They all were.
To be continued.
Comments
[begin preaching]
Now I would suggest you explore ideas you want to, write for yourself. Then I would suggest you write about what you know, like say if you do programming in real life, you could describe how a character works through strings of code in a damaged Command Chair or any number of things. In the end, make sure you are having fun writing your fan fiction!
[/end preaching]
<!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo--> <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo--> <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo--> <!--emo&:D--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/biggrin.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='biggrin.gif'><!--endemo--> <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->
sactly, now wh@ happens?
does he cap that skulk becuase he bound his mwheelup to fire?
<!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->:D:p:D:P:D:P
WOW!
excellent story, I'm guessing the last one has evolved silence?
I agree wholeheartedly
I really need to sit down and write more than a few paragraphs at a time....