Ns Brobdingnagian
Soul_Rider
Mod Bean Join Date: 2004-06-19 Member: 29388Members, Constellation, Squad Five Blue
Mod Bean Join Date: 2004-06-19 Member: 29388Members, Constellation, Squad Five Blue
<div class="IPBDescription">The Remix.. Bigger, Better...</div> Ok, so I found my copy of the Brobdingnagian story for the first time in ages. I posted it up again on the forums as the chapters had mysteriously dissappeared, then i re-read it.
I was totally dissapointed with so much of the story and quite embarrassed that i had actually posted some parts in the form they were in.
So I have been reworking the story, trying to make it more how I wanted it.
Basically the bones were strong, but the flesh was rotting and decaying, so now I have rebuilt it.
I want this to be as proffessional as possible, so if any of you people can offer me advice/corrections, improvements or just general ideas to help me develop it I would be extremely grateful.
I was totally dissapointed with so much of the story and quite embarrassed that i had actually posted some parts in the form they were in.
So I have been reworking the story, trying to make it more how I wanted it.
Basically the bones were strong, but the flesh was rotting and decaying, so now I have rebuilt it.
I want this to be as proffessional as possible, so if any of you people can offer me advice/corrections, improvements or just general ideas to help me develop it I would be extremely grateful.
Comments
<i>"First impressions are the
snapshots that your mind takes."</i></b>
With a gentle flick of the release switch, the rescue shuttle's pressurised airlock door hissed and slowly began its descent. Tom Slater looked out into the battle scarred station, the landing bay was pot marked and covered in splatters of blood, littered with the deformed and dismembered bodies of the dead. Tom stood still, transfixed, staring, as the station rapidly disappeared from view under the airlock door, with relief flooding through his veins and fear running through his heart. The battle, for him, was over but the war had only just begun for the TSA troops holed up in his former home. His hopes and dreams, and that of all the other inhabitants had been destroyed, but he still had his life, and for that he was glad, but he was also sad for his loss. His friends and workmates, his surrogate family, the best people a person could ever wish to know had perished out there, and now he had to go on and rebuild his life. Tom shuffled awkwardly along the aisle, wading through the arms and legs of the other survivors, variously wrapped in blankets and padded coats, as they hung into the walkway, and sank into his heated nano-tech seat. Though he was quick to fall asleep, his exhaustion was total and his grief was extreme, his dreams were filled with nightmare visions, of flashbacks and imagined horrors, of things he had not even dreamt existed only six months before.........
Brobdingnagian loomed large on the view screen aboard the bridge of N.F.O. Sputnik, the latest, costliest and most beautiful addition to the Neptune Freight Organisation’s deep space colonisation vessels. N.F.O. Sputnik was a marvel to behold as, supported by four N.F.O. military cruisers, she glided effortlessly through the endless void of space, her power and beauty only matched by her majesty. N.F.O. Sputnik was the height of technological advancement, everything you could dream of in a ship and more, yet she paled into insignificance in the shadow of Brobdingnagian, the man-made station orbiting before her.
The crystal clear images being received by Sputnik were being simultaneously transmitted to holoscreens throughout the ship, on all decks, in all quarters and everyone looked on in awe. One of the screens in particular, situated in the colonist cine-hall, held an extremely excited viewing audience transfixed, spell-bound by the first views of their new home. Never before in the history of mankind had such a project been undertaken, never before had a dream been chased with so much tenacity and never before had an effort of this size and magnitude been attempted, let alone been successful. Brobdingnagian was the impossible dream, a futuristic vision turned into realisation, in a way no one could have believed possible. Brobdingnagian, the future of mankind, the pinnacle of technological achievement, was there for all to see, rotating slowly in its own orbit around Plaskett's Star.
There was a time; long before space travel was thought possible, when people used to look out at the stars in the sky and think, what if? Great telescopes were built enabling us to see further into space, constellations were mapped and planets charted with new discoveries being made all the time. As time went by and technology developed further, space probes were launched, small scale space missions began, the pinnacle of which was in 1969 when man went to the moon. The space race continued with more and more missions researching and finding out as much information as possible, all in the hope that one day mankind would get out there and live out among the stars, and get there man did! It was towards the end of the great expansion period (c.2050-2150) that the problems of this all too quick expansion began to raise their heads. After the initial discovery of Phase Technology, and fuelled by the subsequent expansion into deep space, huge energy and financial costs began to cripple the various governments of Earth as they fought to continue exploring deeper into space, and to conserve what they had already gained. The expected riches of space exploration had failed to materialize, failures upon and now all the governments of earth were paying for their over zealous actions. The governments’ need to develop cheaper and more efficient means of supplying power for the phase gate technology, so they could continue the exploration of the stars, and so they could avoid bankruptcy, became the research field of many of the world’s greatest scientific minds, driven by a desperate government already angry that the exploration hadn’t brought untold riches. Many experiments were undertaken and much money was spent without the results that were craved by the governments. It was decided that drastic action was necessary, and it was this action that caused an unlikely saviour to step forward with an idea.
On the spacious and beautifully designed bridge of the N.F.O. Sputnik, the commander, Andrei Shotovski, smiled broadly as he surveyed his domain. He was standing with his arms crossed behind his back, atop a raised dais at the very rear of the bridge, near the doors to the main access lift, looking forward at the banks of illuminated controls stretching from one side of the bridge to the other. His eyes drifted lazily around, drinking in the beauty of his bridge, on his ship. All along the left-hand wall were banks of scanners and screens, all indicating the status of various systems, and details of the proximity of ships and space objects, a myriad of different displays illuminated in greens and blues. At the very front of the bridge the far wall was a giant holoscreen, there were no windows on the bridge, but the holoscreen provided a view from the ship in any direction, in an amazing amount of zoom, and with special built-in filters, made sure that the crew were never blinded in the event of an explosion or another extremely bright light occurrence. In front of the holoscreen two banks of controls were laid out horizontally for the bridge crew to work from. It looked much like a bridge from any other starship, and it was like a bridge from most starships apart from one small exception. Despite the impressive and luxurious design and layout, most of the bridge was superfluous. All the screens and monitors that were showing readings and data flows, all the flashing L.E.D’s and the brightly coloured dials blinking and flashing, all the beautifully crafted three-dimensional projections were for information only. N.F.O. Sputnik was built around the most advanced computer system ever devised. It had been designed initially as a prototype system for use by the N.F.O. military, but had turned out to have attributes and abilities that made it so much more powerful than imagined. It was very economical, highly efficient, and virtually foolproof. Further testing on the system, and results from the implementation in the military had shown some amazing results, so much so that it was developed further for inclusion on all N.F.O. ships. It controlled a complete ship; there was nothing it couldn’t do, nothing it couldn’t be developed to control or monitor. The system, known as ProCoMM (Prototype Control and Monitoring Module, it’s name had never been changed since the first successful runs, call it superstition), had been designed with manual overrides in place, in the event of a failure, but so far they had never been engaged, there had been no reason to. N.F.O. Sputniks monstrous array of communication channels and devices worked in tandem with the supercomputer brain, transferring data backwards and forwards to ensure that nothing caught them by surprise. If the ship was impressive because of its brain and its ability to think and communicate, it was even more impressive when you considered its heart, an engine capable of travelling faster than the speed of light. Although it was once thought impossible, due to the thinking of the 20th century scientist Einstein, and much misunderstanding of his hypotheses, it was very much a reality now. N.F.O. Sputnik was the proof. This was of course very helpful in a deep space colonisation vessel, it meant travelling time could be cut down immensely, and the people who set out on the journeys were actually able to colonise their intended destinations, rather than their descendants. It also aided with the ability to drop off phase gates further into space, further reducing costs for expansion. She was a very versatile, very useful, very powerful and unbelievably beautiful ship. Andrei was rightly proud of his vessel, the greatest ship in existence, but even he had to admit, the sight on the main view screen was awe-inspiring.
<i>“In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face,
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun,
And, burning ciphers on the round of space,
Heaven and hell mixed as they spun.”
(Taken from In The Beginning by Dylan Thomas)</i></b>
Samuel Sharpe was like many other ordinary, lonely 16-year-old boys. He hated his name, he was shy around people he didn’t know very well and he had a fixation with space travel and the stars. He had parents who expected him to do well at school and go on to college and university, putting onto him the importance of not missing out on the opportunities and chances that life presented, chances that they themselves had wasted. He had the brains to go on and achieve all that his parents expected of him, but he just didn’t have the desire. What Samuel desired was intergalactic space travel, fun and adventure, not days, weeks, months, and years of studying, sitting in classes, learning what other people felt was important. That was not what he was going to do. He was going to succeed in his schooling, he would concede at least that much to his parents, and then he was going to be off, travelling from planet to planet, system to system, learning more than he ever could in a classroom. He would often sit and stare out into space wistfully, yearning for the opportunity to get out and explore the universe like his hero Ricardo Monteseizus, the greatest space explorer in the history of mankind. Sam was brought out of his latest reverie by a sound coming from the room below his. He glanced at his wall clock, and knew from the time that the noise was his mother returning home from her shift at the lab where she worked as a research assistant. He turned away from the window and let his eyes drift slowly around his room. It wasn’t anything special, pretty much what you would expect from a 16-year-old boy. Decorated in mood sensing wall-coatings, it was sparsely furnished. A few holoposters adorned the walls, depicting a variety of interests. Two posters on the far wall bore the face of Ricardo Monteseizus, one on the left showed him in a victorious pose as he stood on the ramp of his expedition jet after becoming the first man to traverse the deadly Findarian mountain range successfully, while the second showed his more reflective side, caught in meditation during a trip to Hanskarnec, the garden of the universe. The only other feature of the far wall was a door, a very plain metallic door, with a one-way porthole that Sam could see out of. The wall to the right of that had another door in it, this one opened into his walk in wardrobe, the storage room for all his clothes and shoes, and when it wasn’t in use, his slide away bed. His eyes slowly drifted around the room until they settled on the gently illuminated holoscreen, casting a pale blue glow around his desk against the left hand wall. He walked over to it, ready to continue with his final year project. He had been busy working alphabetically through the solar constellations, learning all that he could so he would achieve the results he desired and make his parents at least happy with that achievement. Sam had just completed his brief and very disappointing study of Microscopium, the Microscope, when the V-Comm audio channel he was listening to was interrupted by a special government announcement. “The United America government is pleased to announce the details of a new nationwide competition and we are offering the lucky winner the prize of a lifetime.”
Samuel sat and listened in complete silence, a myriad of thoughts rushing through his head. The competition was intriguing, stirring up his passions for travel and adventure, but he had no idea of how to do what was required, no idea of how to even begin coming up with the idea, let alone actually doing it. No matter how he tried to forget it, still the thought of the prize kept the competition floating around in his head. The V-Comm station returned to the broadcast it had been playing and Sam turned around and started to work on the next part of his final year project, the constellation of Monoceros, the Unicorn.
Jonathon Bush was an unhappy man, a very unhappy man. He had long dreamt of a great career in politics, a chance to follow in his ancestor’s footsteps (he was a direct blood descendant of President George Bush and his son President George W. Bush, of the government formerly known as the United States of America) and achieve greatness and recognition but instead he was here, heading up the government’s department of public relations; fielding call after call from people trying to win the prize, being offered by the government, to a competition which, to Jonathon, smacked of inefficient organisation. He knew his task and he hated it, it was downright disrespectful to expect a man of his lineage and future position to be linked with such a piece of absolute tomfoolery. Here he was, a direct descendent of people who had once been described as the most powerful people on planet earth, wheedling through calls, to sort out the obvious nutcases and cranks, and pass on the candidates who weren’t obviously insane, to the next stage of the screening process. He had no idea why the government had embarked on such a hair-brained scheme, and quite frankly, he didn’t care, all he wanted was a return to normality and a restoration of his dignity. He was an extremely unhappy man. There was one plus to his current role, the opportunity to indulge in his favourite part of working, creating statistical figures and charts. Nearly everything Jonathon ever did had either a chart or a graph to accompany it. He considered it to be the height of efficiency and productivity, everyone else believed it to be a waste of time, but Jonathon concluded, this was because they weren’t descended from former presidents of the United States of America. His latest chart was devised to show his bosses what a waste of time this job was, and as such read miserably. 73% of callers wanted the tickets and hadn’t even begun to think of a solution to the problem, they just wanted to get into space. 26% of callers had ideas and wanted the tickets, but these ideas were so ludicrous even Jonathon saw the stupidity, or naivety of them. That left the other 1%, although on a technicality that wasn’t correct, it was how his chart showed up the data, the true figure was 0.61%, but such fine points were irrelevant as far as Jonathon was concerned, his point had been more than proven. Then the phone rang again and Jonathon sighed wearily as he looked round at the people working under him, their time being wasted on this fruitless task too. Every one of the people in the call centre was on the phone, so with the wonder of modern technology, that meant he was to answer the next call. He looked up at the scrolling message display board; the gentle illumination of the backboard was drowned out by the bright red display reading: No. of Calls - 19,673.
Tom Slater was a quiet, unassuming man. He did what he could; he was always helpful and was well-liked by everyone he met. He was born in space, he lived all his life in space, and more than likely he was going to die in space. That wasn’t a problem for Tom, he didn’t know any different and had no reason to want to know any different. Tom had always been fascinated with people’s craving for planetary existences, but had never had these desires himself, he never understood quite what drove these people, he had never felt the need for fresh air and open skies, for rain and wind, all these could be suitably replicated if it was so desired, needless to say, he didn’t desire it. He was a space man, a pure and simple no nonsense call-it-as-you-see-it spaceman. He had built himself a more than impressive reputation as one of the top life support systems engineers in the galaxy, able to deal with any system around, and easily good enough to be able to adapt and embrace the new technology as it appeared. In fact he had been known to be the pioneer behind one or two bits of new technology himself. If the truth be known, there just wasn’t anyone anywhere near as Tom Slater when it came to working with life-support systems. It was this reputation that got him summoned to the local offices of the United America government aboard his current home, Theodore. Theodore was a class 3 space station, built as minor port along the edge of the Ariadne arm of the Milky Way, Tom had been assigned to oversee the upgrade and install of a complete new state of the art Life-Support system. He was thoroughly enjoying his work, and he was also intrigued to know why he was being summoned to the government offices. Tom found himself waiting in the main reception area of the government offices, and was browsing through the local news on the armchair's computer when the receptionist called out to him. “Mr Slater, they will see you now, this way please.”
“Thank you.” Replied Tom as he followed the receptionist into the meeting room.
the second chapter was much better. There is a lot of character development and you managed to bring the characters to life pretty well. Just waiting to see how it is all interconnected.
<i>“From star to star, from sun and spring and leaf,
And almost audible flowers whose sound is silence,
And in the common meadows, springs the seed of life.”
(Taken from Seed by Kathleen Raine)</i></b>
Monoceros was turning out to be far more interesting than most of the other constellations that Samuel had already studied. It wasn’t so much for the constellation itself, or for its history. Monoceros didn’t have a myth associated with it like many other constellations, despite being named after a mythical creature. What Monoceros did have however, was Plaskett’s Star, and that was creating the interest for Samuel. Plaskett’s Star was a binary star comprising of two blue giants revolving around a shared centre of gravity. They had an orbit of 14.4 days and as such, through the telescopes situated on earth you could only ever see one star. These two stars are the biggest known to man, with the primary having a mass of forty earth suns, and the secondary having a mass of sixty earth suns. They would be able to provide a huge source of solar energy, not counting the potential for converting solar radiation into energy. This was a very interesting subject, particularly in light of the very recent competition that had been announced by the government. Was it just possible that a star system discovered hundreds of years ago; could provide the source of power that the United America government was looking for? Samuel paused for a moment. He smiled; he paused. He smiled again as a thought of himself as Ricardo Monteseizus flashed across his mind. He made his way over to the window and extended the observation scope. He swung it round to the Monoceros system and took a long hard look. The light, so faint when viewed from earth, could just be his ticket to a life of fun and adventure that he had only dreamed of. With real hope building inside him and excitement dancing in his eyes, he turned to his computer and began typing; some things were just too secret for voice commands. He began his search by looking into the latest developments in solar powered technology. He didn’t intend to become an expert on it, but he had to see if his idea was a viable solution. With thousands of results to choose from he began the long and arduous task of sorting through the data, at least the parts of it that he could understand, and try to better formulate his idea.
The room was of a reasonable size, a bit on the high side, and was sparsely decorated. In the centre of the room was a table surrounded by ten chairs, each with a long curved back and an elegantly carved motif on the front. The walls were painted in a gentle blue, very easy on the eye, relaxing like water, thought Tom. Seven of the ten chairs were empty and the receptionist directed Tom to the chair that had been reserved for him. The receptionist then began to introduce everyone to Tom.
“This is Walter Demsky.” She said pointing at the man sitting at the head of the table. He appeared to be a man of middle years, with a slight roundness of girth that indicated a comfortable man, and a smile that was warm and welcome. He wore an embroidered satin kipot, a cursory nod to his Jewish heritage, and a sharp blue suit with a white carnation attached to his lapel. “Mr Demsky is the local liaison with central government and works very hard for our local community,” continued the receptionist. Walter raised his hand to cut the secretary off as he stood and offered his hand to Tom.
“Pleased to meet you Mr Demsky.” Remarked Tom as he offered his hand.
“Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine Mr Slater, and please, call me Walter.” Was the reply as he grasped Tom’s hand, holding onto it with a firm grip. “Please call me Tom” was the reply. To the right of Walter sat another middle-aged man, this time in the full regalia of the Colonial Marine Corps.
“This is General Lemkin.” Continued the receptionist. Tom had never been one for the military ideal, but the general had the air of a man who had seen it, done it and bought the t-shirt. He commanded respect from the very air around him and Tom accorded him the same. “My pleasure General.” Tom offered as he shook hands. “Good to meet you son.” Responded the general, his shake even firmer than Mr Demsky’s. The third person at the table looked very out of place, a young lad, certainly no more than 18, with a mop of curly hair, and freckles. He wore casual clothes and Tom wondered what the boy was doing here and what the link could be with his own personal invite to this meeting. “And finally we have Samuel Sharpe” continued the receptionist, “he is the reason that everyone is here for this little meeting.”
Jonathon Bush answered the phone, again. For two months now he had been working on this project and still it continued. His statistics had changed over time, but only for the worse, and still his superiors insisted on continuing what Jonathon described as a fruitless task. The department was now running at a staggering 82% lunatic callers (he had long since given up on them being normal time-wasters, he had come to the conclusion they must be a special bunch of mad men & women to spend so much time doing nothing), 18% stupid callers, who weren’t bright enough to come up with an idea that Jonathon couldn’t find fault in, even considering his complete non-knowledge of all things technical. That left 0% to the third category, genuine callers with ideas. Of course the true figure was 0.07%, not enough to warrant a 1%, but not technically nothing. All this after just over 2.5 million calls, and now he sighed out loud as he answered the phone again, oh how weary he felt.
“Good Morning, you’re through to the United America competition line. How can I help you?” He sounded distinctly under whelmed.
“Oh, err, hi, err, yes, err, I have an idea for the space competition”
“Great” replied Jonathon without the enthusiasm the word implied, “I need to fill out this form with your information. Let’s start with your name.”
“Yeah, ok, my name is Samuel, Samuel Sharpe.”
“Right Samuel, you say you have an idea for your governments’ competition?”
“Yes I do sir.”
“Well, let’s hear it then.” Said Jonathon in a very uninterested tone
“Ok, the idea came when I was studying the Monoceros constellation and more particularly Plaskett’s star.”
<i>“For this ignorance of me
Seems a kind of innocence
Fast enough I shall wound it:
Let me breathe it till then
It’s milk-aired Eden,
Till my own life impound it-
Slow-falling; grey-veil-hung; a theft,
A style of dying only.”
(Taken from Arrival by Philip Larkin)</i></b>
Excitement was reaching boiling point among the colonists onboard N.F.O. Sputnik as they looked out at their new home on the giant holoscreen in the cine-hall. They were only two hours from docking on Brobdingnagian, their new home, and everyone was looking forward to being a part of history, part of the team that founded Brobdingnagian. The journey had been a little trying, despite the splendour and luxury in which they were travelling. N.F.O. Sputnik had called in at thirty-seven different star systems on its way to Brobdingnagian, picking up the forward team of 15,000 people who were to begin the task of getting Brobdingnagian online to make it inhabitable and stable for the successive waves of colonists. When fully operational, Brobdingnagian would have a residential community of just over 2 billion people, with anything up to another 1 billion people ‘passing through’. Brobdingnagian could single-handedly solve most of the United America’s population problems, and was designed to be the first in a series of Phase gates stations. Many people were nervous, concerned about what they would find, how it would work, what problems they would face and how they would solve them, but the anticipation and the sense of adventure, the sense of achievement, bubbling away below the surface kept them desperate to get there, and the views of their new home had only strengthened their resolve to make it work.
Admiral Ford was calm as he sat in the command chair of U.A.S. Manhattan. The bridge was a hustle of activity as people checked systems and scanned the system for possible hostile craft. They waited patiently, observing the N.F.O. fleet as it entered the UA space around Brobdingnagian. This was a very strange situation to be in, and the Admiral thought he and his crew were handling it admirably. It was an extremely rare occurrence for one nation to allow other nations military into its systems these days; such was the feeling of mistrust and fear that had begun to grow up between the nations again, as it once had upon earth.
After the speed and risk of the expansion period there had been a period of settling down, known as the consolidation period. During this time the nations began to take stock of what they had and looked to protect that, rather than continue expanding. As the corporations increased in power and the system settled down, the ancient human feeling of fear began to surface as people began to see each other increasing their military to protect themselves. This resulted in increased spending on defence of colonies and space territory, thus creating tension along some space borders. The governments were desperate to avoid another ‘cold war’ scenario, but they were all too scared to lose what they had built, and no-one was really sure of everyone else’s intentions. It was against this backdrop that Brobdingnagian had come into being. A space station for all to use, which would be under United America protection while being built, but would be free to make its own laws, as long as they were within reason and didn't harm United America or her interests in Brobdingnagian, once she was finished. This was seen as an extremely bold move by the United American government, and though it was openly greeted with enthusiasm and joy by the other government states, it was also being greeted with great scepticism and caution.
His research was now complete. Sam had followed his research on solar technology with further research on space transportation and finished off with information on building large projects. He now had a viable idea to provide power to phase gates in space. There was one draw back; the phase gates would need to be within the same system as the power source, to be recharged easily, which would necessitate the formation of centralised Phase Stations. These interplanetary Phase Stations would be located in one system and would have the power source built in the same system. The Whole thing would operate on solar power and would require a battery type storage system to store the harnessed power. So far there was only one solar source known to man, which could supply the power required to get this idea up and running and Samuel Sharpe had found it, well he had rediscovered it at least. Plaskett’s Star. The answer to the government’s problem had been solved hundreds of years ago, and no one had seen it. Samuel was very pleased with himself. He went over to his phone and dialled the number for the competition line.
“Good Morning, you’re through to the United America competition line. How can I help you?” The voice sounded distinctly under whelmed.
“Oh, err, hi, err, yes, err, I have an idea for the space competition” replied Samuel nervously.
Tom left the meeting pondering what had been said, passing it over and over, as he returned to his quarters on the southern tip of space station Theodore. He reached his apartment on autopilot as the words of the meeting spun around in his head again and again. Had he really heard that correctly? The United America government wanted him, personally, to manage the life support systems on the biggest project to be undertaken in the history of humankind. He had been offered the chance of a lifetime, his government had recognised his work, and humble Tom was being headhunted by the rulers of his nation. There had to be some mistake, surely, this couldn’t happen to him? Could it? With his head thinking a myriad of thoughts all at once, he entered his accommodation and collapsed on the bed. To be offered a job as important as this, to be given the opportunity to do what he loved doing, on a scale never done before, in support of his government, it was a challenge any man alive would jump at. His mind was already made up. He knew where he was going, Brobdingnagian.
Samuel couldn’t quite believe the speed that everything came together at. It was less than twenty-four hours from his initial contact that he received a call from the United America government, inviting him to a meeting to further discuss his idea. When he arrived at the meeting he was shocked to find that present were some of the foremost minds in engineering, design, solar technology, and phase technology, some of the very people he had been reading about while doing his research, were now sitting here to discuss the feasibility of his idea. This was being taken very seriously. He was beginning to very seriously consider his travelling arrangements for the next couple of years.
U.A.S. Manhattan headed the navy fleet as they intercepted N.F.O. Sputnik and her escort at a pre-arranged destination just inside Brobdingnagians territorial boundary. It was still a fair distance from the site but was felt by some heads of the United America military to be way too close for comfort. The arrangement was that N.F.O Sputnik would continue into Brobdingnagian under U.A. escort, while the N.F.O. military stayed at the arranged destination until the return of Sputnik in 72hrs.
The navy escort sailed towards Brobdingnagian, flying in a box formation around Sputnik, giving protection from all angles. There was no need for the N.F.O. to worry about whether the U.A. navy would provide adequate protection for their ship, as onboard were the top people in their fields, the future of United America. The journey was short and uneventful. As the ships approached Brobdingnagian the huge docking bay doors began to slide open, revealing the airlock behind. N.F.O. Sputnik glided gently through the doors, along with three of the ships from the UA military escort. The four ships gently touched down in the airlock, as the docking bay doors slid silently closed behind them. With a soft clang and a gentle hiss the doors sealed shut and began pressurising the airlock. Once pressurisation was complete the four ships started to move forward on the automated floor way. Just ahead of them the inner station doors opened to admit the new arrivals.
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Do you think the last paragraph in chapter one might benefit from some dialog to break it up? I was thinking it was a bit monotonous.
Brob•ding•nag•i•an - Pronunciation Key</b> (br b d ng-n g - n)
<i>adj.</i>
Immense; enormous.
[After Brobdingnag, a country in Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift, where everything was enormous.]
Brobdingnagian was unique, one of a kind, not just the biggest space station ever built by man, but also the biggest generator in the universe. It was the very pinnacle of human technology. What had begun in the mind of a 16-year-old boy had gone on to become mankind’s crowning glory.
Placed in orbit surrounding Plaskett’s star, Brobdingnagian was built with two specific purposes in mind. One was to act as a space station serving ten phase gate portals that were to be developed in the system, and the second, its main purpose, was to act as a giant power source for the phase gates, supplying the energy they required, and constantly being recharged by the dual suns that make up Plaskett’s star. Each individual Phase gate was built with it’s own solar powered energy source, but due to the size and design of the gates a charge would only hold for a period of a couple of hours. This had the immense drawbacks in that whenever a fleet tried to pass through a phase gate they would have to wait for it to fully recharge, and it wasn’t unheard of for merchant fleets to spend 3-4 days waiting at the phase gates for the entire fleet to pass through. With the development of Brobdingnagian, all these problems would be eliminated, as all the phase gates in the system would be supplied with power from the station.
Brobdingnagian was a true giant, a testament to man’s achievements and desires. The core of its being was a rechargeable power cell roughly the size of Earth. The rest of the space station, built around this giant core, was made up of over 120 separate sections, which were built separately then interlocked together as the station was put together in its orbit. Each section was created as being able to operate as a separate habitat, or when linked up with all the other sections, one giant habitat.
The view that greeted the colonists and crew aboard N.F.O Sputnik and its military escort was an amazing sight. The final layer of Brobdingnagian was there for all to see. There were billions upon billions of solar panels that encased the station, which like many planets, relied on spinning about its axis for gravity. It had the effect of looking like a giant mirror ball suspended in the great ballroom of space.
Brobdingnagian had begun as an ambitious idea that was the United America Governments last roll of the dice, but had gone from concept to completion in an amazing five years, and that was largely down to the way it was designed. Brobdingnagians sectioned design, enabling it to just lock together, and advanced engineering techniques, had come at a huge cost to the government and they had to pay for most of it through private sector loans. This created its own new problems, how was the government going to pay back the money? Where would they raise the income to continue their space exploration? These and many other questions had been thought about since the initial proposal had been accepted and the decision to go ahead with the plan.
The decision about Brobdingnagians future had been a long and hard one to take but in the end it was decided that the station would be opened up into a multinational pathway, a borderless station for users of the Plaskett’s star phase gates. United America did this on the proviso that all the governments who wished to take advantage of the station would contribute a large yearly fee for the freedom of the station. They worked on the basis that the governments’ contributions, and the huge fees that would be earned from the merchants and travellers, would be enough to keep the station open and pay off the debts, and if anything their predictions were way under what they would actually make. This was going to be a very profitable enterprise for sure.
<i>“I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a colour slide
or press an ear against its hive.”
(Taken from Introduction To Poetry by Billy Collins)</i></b>
The colonists disembarked from the Sputnik and were being directed to various debriefing sites in the dock, according to their occupation and the roles they would fill while on the station. The Colonial Marine Corps were in charge of the station, and it was their duty to ensure that everything began running smoothly; no mistakes could be afforded on this project.
Tom Slater had been directed to a corner of hangar one, where he awaited the arrival of the rest of his team. The first person to come over was a young looking man, appearing to be in his late twenties, wearing smart slacks and a short marine style haircut. The guy looked like he had been in the military, but then, in this day and age, it could well have been a penal colony, such was the frequency that people were put into them, for even the most minor of offences, and it was rumoured that not many ever got out. The man introduced himself as Philip Stryker, and offered Tom a warm smile with his handshake, which Tom duly returned. There weren’t too many formal introductions to make, at least not yet, and everybody was pretty relaxed, especially considering all the pent up excitement that had been building throughout the space voyage. The next person to drift over almost completely passed them by. He was in his late fifties and dressed like an accountant in a sharp suit with flat topped bifocal glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The man at first didn’t appear to notice Tom and Philip, but then casually strolled over and asked if they were from the life system support team. When Philip replied that they were, Tom half expected the man to introduce himself as the person organising their personal arrangements, instead he introduced himself as Simon Fairweather, one of the lead engineers on the team.
After a few minutes chatting, and guiding people off in the right direction for their groups, a monster of a man, with fiery red hair and a long goatee beard, approached them.
“Hey,” called out the man with the beard “you guys in life support?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” replied Tom. “Can I help you at all?”
“Ah, fantastic, I’m Joshua McIntyre, though everyone just calls me Mac. I’m your software specialist.”
“Well you definitely look more like a hardware person to me” chuckled Philip, “but it’s good to meet you.”
“I second that.” Agreed Tom.
So this was it, the first part of Tom’s team were all assembled in their new home, ready to begin their adventure into the unknown, all as excited as a child at Christmas. More recruits would arrive to join the team in each phase, with another ten people due in phase two, due in two months, and another twenty-five in phase three, which was due in four months, all hand picked by the UA government, all willing, keen and itching to be a part of the project. For now, these guys were his team, and they were going to have a lot of work to do, checking on the systems in this section, 17, and moving on to get section 14 up and running in time for the phase two arrivals. Tom knew his drive, focus and ambition hadn’t changed, his desire was still there, he’d only been there an hour, and he was already thinking about work, about the best way to do this, and about when he could start. He looked up just in time to see one of the Marine Corps sergeants heading over in their general direction.
“Tom Slater?” called out the sergeant.
“I’m Tom” was the reply, “How can I help?”
“I’m Sergeant Baker” he replied, offering his hand, “I’m here to show you to your sleeping quarters, get you all settled in, then give you a guided tour, starting at your main offices.”
“Great” smiled Philip, “we even get our own military escort, now that’s what I call a revered work force.” Everyone laughed, and why not? They were in good spirits and were now officially a part of history.
“By the way” enquired Mac, “when do we get to see the bar?”
Jonathon Bush was a happy man, a very happy man. He had long dreamed of following in his famous ancestors footsteps, and now, he was finally on the right path. Despite all his misgivings about his previous role he had to admit, it had changed his life. When he took the call from Samuel Sharpe, he realised he was onto something special, and made sure the appropriate people knew, in record time, and his efforts didn’t go unnoticed. The success of Samuel’s idea, the swiftness in which it was implemented, and the role in which Jonathon played to get it noticed by the people that mattered, all helped in giving Jonathon an opportunity to shine, and what an opportunity it was, Deputy Governor of Brobdingnagian. Not quite what he wanted, but as he realised, that was due to his lack of governing experience, and he was reassured that when the right time came, he would make the step up. He was to fly out as part of Phase 2, and he couldn’t wait. What would he do with himself for the next month? Before he was picked up by the N.F.O. Sputnik, and taken away on his great voyage to a new life.
Samuel Sharpe had been living in a dream world for the last seven years, now a 23-year-old man; he was ready for the next major step in his life. He was going to move to Brobdingnagian, his idea, his dream, and his reality. He was going out in phase two with Jonathon Bush, the man he spoke to when he first called up with his idea. Although he was very gruff and uninterested when he answered the phone, Jonathon had soon become more attentive, as he realised the idea wasn’t something fanciful, it really could work. Jonathon had worked really hard on Samuel’s behalf after that call and had got the first meeting established within a day. He then had a major part to play in the furtherance of the idea, and had gone on to become a good friend of Samuel’s. Now they were going to be journeying out together, to start anew aboard Brobdingnagian. Samuel was going to work in the governor’s office as a clerk, while he learned more about the role. It was foreseen that with the right development he could become a future governor of Brobdingnagian.
<i>“On almost the incendiary eve
When at your lips and keys,
Locking, unlocking, the murdered strangers weave,
One who is most unknown,
Your polestar neighbour, sun of another street,
Will dive up to his tears.
He'll bathe his raining blood in the male sea
Who strode for your own dead
And wind his globe out of your water thread
And load the throats of shells
with every cry since light
Flashed first across his thunderclapping eyes.”
(Taken from Deaths and Entrances by Dylan Thomas)</i></b>
Andrei Shotovski stared at the holoscreen in horror and disbelief, unable to cope and unable to believe what he was seeing. His ship was being overrun, decimated, torn to pieces. His crew and passengers were being killed indiscriminately, viciously torn apart, limb from limb, with no respect or dignity, and his own life was soon to come to an end. He had no choice; there was no other avenue he could take, no other option open to him. However abhorrent the decision was, however terrible the thought of causing the death of others, he knew what he had to do. Nothing was going to survive. Andrei Shotovski was going to make absolutely sure of that.
N.F.O. Sputnik, the majestic, powerful colonist freighter, pride of the N.F.O fleet, had been designed to carry five hundred thousand passengers and their equipment in the utmost comfort, with space for another fifteen thousand crew members and their belongings. On this and the previous three journeys’ that she had made to Brobdingnagian, there were only fifty thousand passengers at most on board. That meant that large areas of the vessel were left unused, un-travelled, and unwatched for a long time. Of the three decks in the ship, level 3, the lowest level, was completely deserted, and level two was less than one-third used. It was in these areas, unseen by the ship, as the monitoring systems had been turned off, something happened, something started, and something grew.
No-one knows where the bacterium originated, but the first confirmed case of infestation happened in the Genghis Mining Labs on the planet Sanji. This story was intensely and thoroughly reported in the journalistic report – Six days in Sanji, which is quite widely distributed and still readily available today.
Reports came in of mysterious clicking noises throughout the ventilation systems onboard the ship but nothing was ever found by the maintenance crews. Then things started getting strange, people were reporting to the med room with a parasitic burn on them, occurring in different places on their bodies, in different parts of the ship. It followed no pattern, was almost random in its appearance, but no cause for it could be found. After an initial burning sensation there was no more pain, a med pack restored the person’s health but the marks remained. The reports of the parasites started coming in sporadically at first, different people describing them differently, and it took quite a while for people to put two and two together. They became more frequent and as the number of people infected began to increase, so the people became more alarmed. As the days turned into weeks, people were still coming out in these parasitic rashes, but nothing was happening to them, they weren’t getting any worse, their health was always optimal, and soon they began to forget about the whole thing. It was then that the dying started.
They weren’t prepared, they weren’t expecting, they weren’t going to survive.
Nearly everyone on the ship had been affected by the parasite; there were not many who were left untouched. Medical teams tried everything they could think of, but the parasites remained, they just could not be removed.
The siren wail sounded in the dead of the night, alerting all but the heaviest sleepers that something was drastically wrong.
The clicking noises in the vents dramatically increased, strange noises began to be heard coming from empty parts of the ship, strange chuckles were heard, something was happening.
The doors separating the used and unused sections of the centre deck were charged down, ripped open and torn from their hinges, with loud creaking and groaning noises. Metal slammed against the floor making clanging and reverberating around the rooms. Death poured forth, from the dark into the light, hell broke through into the living realm, and soon the deck was just an extension of hell.
Small dog like creatures, with pointed claws instead of paws, leapt through the air biting and clawing at anything that breathed. People tried to hide but the creatures knew where they were, like a second sight was leading them to the victims. Human sized creatures with long faces and sharp sword like arms were following them in, slashing and hacking at their targets. The creatures seemed to disappear then reappear in front of someone, slice him or her with their arm-like blades of death, and disappear just as quickly. Clouds of green gas were filling the rooms choking, blinding and slowly killing anyone who breathed it in. Blood was coating the walls, puddles forming on the floors, chuckles and roars echoing through the rooms, and death’s stench following everywhere.
Andrei looked on, frozen in horror. Nine thousand people wiped out in less than 30 minutes, and nothing anyone could do. Their military support had been caught up in a running battle with pirates and had provided the cover so Sputnik could escape. Unfortunately the pirates in their wisdom targeted Sputnik’s communications systems first, rendering her deaf and mute. After three off journey phase gate jumps, to confuse and lose any chasing ships, Sputnik was now alone in space, heading for her destination, with no help for anyone on board.
Deafening roars accompanied the breaking down of the security doors to the upper deck, as huge elephant like monsters poured forth, stomping the ground and freezing people in their tracks, then devouring them, feeding off them, eating them whole. Others of their ilk where charging forward at high speed, ramming people, crushing people below their stomping feet, and goring them with their tusks. Winged creatures took to the air, biting at faces, firing poisonous spores out into the throngs of people, as they ran this way and that. People ran blindly this way and that, running into each other, running into hell, screaming, crying, bleeding, dying, and still they came. Chilling alien screams rang out, bringing out the primal forces in the creatures, driving them on faster, harder, creating more death and more carnage. Globules of acid were flying into rooms splashing people; burning them, eating away at their flesh, dissolving their skin as the screams of the living mingled with screams of the dying, and soon they became one scream of pain.
A man saw his chance and bolted down a passageway, fleet of foot, round a left turn, round a right turn, fear lending wings to his feet, he glanced over his shoulder, the way was clear, he turned around and stopped, dead, the arm of the executioner stretched out into his head, blood trickling down over his left eye. The creature slowly removed his blade-like arm, and the man fell.
One of the small dog like creatures leapt from the roof and with a single snap of its powerful jaws, bit a man’s head clean off, the creature twisted and straightened, landed on its feet, and leapt back to the safety of the wall, preparing to strike again.
The rampage continued with death striking throughout the deck. Every vent, every door, every nook and cranny, teemed with alien beings, killing, killing, and killing.
Andrei’s time had come; they were close to taking the bridge, phase four of Brobdingnagian was not going to happen. He looked out upon his fellow officers and requested their forgiveness for failing to protect them as his duty bound him. He stared out of the view screen into space, said his prayers, and turned off the life support for the entire ship. Only three hours would remain until every living thing on the ship was dead, that would be two hours and fifty-five minutes after the last human was killed.
One problem though. I think there are too many different things happening at once, making it slightly confusing. Like, too many characters in too many different places. Also, in certain chapters like number 6, you might want to split up the different scenarios by using a
--------- or ********
or something like that to make it more confusing.
One point on jonathan bush. If i am not mistaken, he just answers calls and roughly judges the feasability of the ideas coming in. But i do not feel just because he passed on information quickly, he should be promoted to deputy governor. That may be stretching it a bit unless you intend to clarify or something.
Jonathon was a junior member of the United America government who was given the role of heading up the project, it was his chance to prove himself and earn a crack at a higher profile role within the government. Because he succeeded, and succeeded well, his reward was a deputy governorship on brobdingnagian.
<i>“Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market-place or tranquil room;
Let me but find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
"Of all who live, I am the one by whom
"This work can best be done in the right way."
Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,
To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;
Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work is best.”</i>
(Work by Henry Van Dyke)</b>
Whistling echoed down the length of the ventilation chamber, Tom paused for a moment, tilted his head to one side and tried to discern the tune. He was sure he recognised it, but he just couldn’t quite place it. It was an old song, a traditional tune from the pre-expansion days, but the title remained just out of his grasp, that annoyed him, not greatly, just in an I-really-know-that-answer-but-can’t-get-it-to-actually-appear-in-my-brain kind of way, but he was determined to figure out what it was. Philip was always whistling some tune or another, from classic songs to some of the latest noise that passed as music, and it made Tom feel just like one of the old Dwarfs working down the mines from the Snow White story. It was great that everyone was so happy with the job they were doing, the people who did the recruiting for this project deserve a medal, thought Tom. People here were fantastic at their job, and not just in Tom’s team. Every part of Brobdingnagian was running like clockwork, everyone was well paid, everyone was well looked after, and everyone was happy. That’s the way UA intended it to be, if they kept the atmosphere great, morale high, and standards on top, then everyone who came here would enjoy it, and the reputation of Brobdingnagian would be known throughout colonised space. All the governments would be in awe of UA, all the governments would want to have their own stations, and United America would be able to supply them, at a considerable cost, of course. It was absolutely vital that UA made this a success, and they were gong to do it, whatever the cost.
Section two was almost ready for switching on. It was also due to be named. The colonists were having a great time in their new surroundings, and were determined to make it as homely as possible. The home to the phase one arrivals, section 17, had long since been renamed; in fact it took less than a week for it to be christened New Eden. Each and every part of the section had been renamed, much like the subdivisions of a town or city; even the passages and walkways had been given street names. This was without doubt a new land, a new home, and a new start.
Tom’s team lived and worked out of the mechanical & technical resource section on deck 3 of section 17, their new address translated to: Tec Ville, Hudson Way, Manhattan, New Eden. The theme followed throughout the section, and made for a more homely experience. All the walkways had been named after rivers, all the decks after islands. It was a little touch of ancestry which the government of United America was more than pleased with when they learned of its happening. It was decided that before the next section, 14, opened, they would have it all named and prepared ready, so that the phase two arrivals could settle in much more quickly. Many names had been suggested for the section, but the one, which was finally settled upon, was Utopia.
Mac was working in one of the ventilation tubes above Easter, the upper deck in Utopia, when he heard a strange tapping noise on the outside of the vent. Tap, Tap, silence. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, silence. Tap, Tap, Tap, silence. The hairs on Mac’s neck stood on end. He was a big lad, not easily spooked, but here he was, in an uninhabited part of the space station, and there where unexpected noises coming at him from outside the vent. He radioed through to Tom. “Tom, you there?”
“Sure Mac, What is it?”
“Listen, can you hear that?”
“Sorry Mac, all I can hear is your breathing, and that’s pretty heavy! What am I listening for?”
“There’s some sort of tapping noise outside the vent, I can’t tell what it is but there shouldn’t be anything out there. We haven’t switched on the life-support systems yet.”
“Hang on there, let me find out where the other guys are, see if there’s anyone near you who can come and have a look with you.”
“It’s ok boss, I’m near the vent entrance, I’ll go and take a look myself.”
“Ok, but keep in radio contact and let us know what’s happening. You know Mac, it’s probably just some loose wires.”
Tap, Tap, Tap, Silence. It sounded to Mac almost like something walking along the side of the vent, almost, but of course there would be no rats here, and the noise was a little too sharp in tone to be a rats padded footfall anyway. Mac crept along the vent, trying to be as quiet as possible, but moving around in the protective suit was making that very difficult, and slowly he edged nearer to the entrance to the vent.
Tom had been a bit unnerved by the radio contact from Mac. Tom wasn’t really frightened of anything and was sure there wasn’t anything to be frightened of, but this is space and you never can be 100% certain about anything. Tom shook his head and turned to continue with his work, checking the fittings on the condenser, when he realised there was something wrong, not with the condenser, that was fine, no there was something wrong that he couldn’t put his finger on. He listened; he couldn’t hear anything other than the ordinary station noises. He listened more intently, still he couldn’t hear anything, and then it hit him. That was the problem, where was Philip’s whistling? Tom began to think, when was the last time he heard Philip? He certainly couldn’t remember hearing it after speaking to Mac, no; he was absolutely certain that there had been no whistling since then. Was he whistling during the conversation, no he couldn’t have been, Tom was straining so hard to hear Mac, he would’ve only been able to hear Philip. It was no good, he just couldn’t think of the last time he had noticed Philip whistling. Mac had left his radio channel open, as Tom had requested, and over the earpiece Tom heard him now, “I’ve reached the entrance, the tapping seems to be coming from just next to it, I’m going to step out now.” Before Tom could shout out a warning telling him to stay where he was a loud scream echoed over the radio, causing Tom to jump back in pain and raise his hands to his head as his ears rang.
The scream quickly subsided to heavy breathing and shouts of “You Bastard” before Philip’s voice joined in over the radio laughing his head off. “Why I ought to kill you!” screamed Mac, but it had no effect, Philip was by now getting hysterical with laughter.
“Oh Mac man, you should have seen your face, it was a picture, and that scream, well, that just topped it off.” Mac tried to be stern and angry with Philip, but it didn’t quite happen, and after first smirking, then grinning, he burst out laughing with him. Tom sat there smiling, letting out a little chuckle of his own, at the thought of what Mac’s face must have looked like. “OK guys, its time to knock off, how’s everyone going?”
“Finished up here,” replied Philip, “that’s why I came along to see how Mac was getting along.”
“I finished just as that little bastard turned up,” grinned Mac, “just before he nearly finished me off!”
“Oh never mind big man,” said Philip, “My round at the bar.”
“Now you’re talking my language!”
“I was just about to ask you noisy buggers to shut up,” chipped in Simon, ”but if your buying I guess I’ll let you have some fun.”
Tom shook his head, what a bunch of guys, still; they got on so well you had to enjoy it.
“Right-o then boys, lets get back, scrub up and get to the bar, before Philip changes his mind, oh, and as I’m the boss, that’s an order!”
Days or eternities like swelling waves
Surge on, and still we drudge in this dark maze;
The bombs and coils and cans by strings of slaves
Are borne to serve the coming day of days;
Pale sleep in slimy cellars scarce allays
With its brief blank the burden. Look, we lose;
The sky is gone, the lightless, drenching haze
Of rainstorms chills the bone; earth, air are foes,
The black fiend leaps brick-red as life's last picture goes.”
<i>(From Preparations For Victory by Edmund Blunden)</i></b>
Second time around and it was still an awesome sight, thought Andrei as N.F.O. Sputnik sailed into Brobdingnagians space with the phase two colonists onboard. This time they had a slightly larger compliment of passengers, fifty thousand, as opposed to the fifteen thousand last time. It was no problem, Sputnik could hold ten times that many passengers in comfort, and with it’s separation technology, they were able to isolate the other decks and unused sections, to save on resources. The only thing that worked on all levels was the life-support system, but that was only in case of having to send someone into those areas for maintenance work, it was still much cheaper than providing space suits for the workers. The passengers onboard Sputnik were all thoroughly absorbed by the pictures on the holoscreens in front of them, just as where the previous group, and it was producing a sense of euphoric excitement.
“Well Samuel,” announced Jonathon as they relaxed in the shared lounge that adjoined their cabins on board Sputnik, “there she is, your idea. How do you feel?”
“I really don’t know,” replied Samuel honestly, “I mean, it’s great and everything, and it’s good to hear that everything is going so well, but it feels kind of strange too, you know, well, I can’t explain it very well, it just feels like it’s not mine. Yes I came up with the idea, but it’s not mine because it’s someone else’s reality, they built it not me. She’s still an amazing sight though, and I do feel just a little bit proud.”
Jonathon smiled, that’s what he liked about Samuel, the boy had come up with a way to ensure his governments survival, future expansion, and increased standing within the universal governments, and yet the boy still had his head on his shoulders, with no sense of grandeur or greatness. Jonathon knew a great many people a lot older than Samuel who wouldn’t show the maturity of this boy. He surely had a big future ahead of him, in whatever he chose to do.
Due to an increased level of co-operation and trust between the N.F.O. and UA, an arrangement had been made whereby the N.F.O. military would leave Sputnik on the edge of Brobdingnagian space, and she would be allowed free travel into Brobdingnagian station, while UA continued to fly the perimeter of its space. One of the reasons behind this decision was an increase of pirate activity in the area causing the military of United America to create a more noticeable presence in the outer fringes. The pirates would never venture into UA space, it was far too dangerous for them to do that, so Sputnik was safe once she had crossed inside and able to escort herself to the station.
Brobdingnagian was in a party mood today. The arrival of the new colonists had resulted in the governor granting the first public holiday on the station since they had been there, which was a full two months. Banners were up, balloons were tied to chairs, and decorations were hanging from lighting posts, all in preparation to greet the new arrivals. There was even a mini carnival being organised. Everyone was happy, everyone was enjoying life, and they wanted the newcomers to settle straight into the swing of things. An impromptu welcoming band had been arranged, unfortunately, not having the talent to actually play anything, they were scheduled to mime to a recording played across the public address system. “It was cheap, it was tacky, it was mad, it was wacky, it was way out there, it was fun in here, it was grand to play, being on the frontier” was how one amused and slightly inebriated reveller would describe the proceedings to a reporter for the Brobdingnagian news site on the V-Comm system, which appeared the following day. This was Brobdingnagians first national party, and what a party it was.
Andrei smiled a huge smile as he saw the sight that awaited his passengers when they disembarked. He knew the passengers could see none of this, and decided it would be fun to lead them off the ship, into the party, and have some fun of his own. It had been such a long time since he had been able to let his hair down, and they didn’t have to leave the station again for another 72 hours, so there was plenty of time to recover. Andrei went over to the console and activated the ship-wide address system, “Hello ladies and gentleman, we are just about to dock at Brobdingnagian, I would be most grateful if you could all meet up in the central recreation hall before we disembark as I would like to say a few words to you all first. Thank you.”
Tom and his crew were relaxing in the maintenance office having an official pre-party meeting. They were celebrating the successful completion of opening phase two, and the fact they had been able to make an early start on preparing phase three. There was much backslapping, alcohol consumption and general bantering before Tom decided to stand up and make a little speech.
He cleared his throat in a loud drunken way so every one could hear him, and their attention turned to him. “Thank you lads, I would just like to say it’s been an honour and a privilege to work with you over the last two months. You are a fantastic bunch and I’ve had such a laugh, it’s made a job I already loved, even more enjoyable, something, which I never thought, was possible.”
He looked round with emotions building inside of him. “As you all know, this is the turning point in our working relationships. When the new bodies join us we will be working in different dynamics, moving on and splitting up soon. Each of you will be going on to run your own region and our work loads will increase, after a few months we may not see each other for long periods of time, but I’d just like to say, you have been tremendous, and I will always carry you guys round in my heart.”
Tom sat down and everyone looked around at each other; they all felt the same way. Brothers from this day forward. Philip stood up, “Ahem, I’d just like to add that it has been an honour to work with you too Tom. There aren’t many governors that myself, and I’m sure the other guys too, have got on so well with, on such a level, and I’d like to propose a toast to you, and to us, and to our continued good fortune on Brobdingnagian.” Everyone raised their glasses, downed them in one, and started clapping and cheering. Macs voice was raised above the din, “Hey guys, I think it’s now time we hit the party proper.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say today,” piped Simon. “What are we waiting for?”
“Let’s go.” Agreed Tom, and they all filed out up towards the docking area, ready for the arrival.
<i>“This is just a place:
we go around, distanced,
yearly in a star's atmosphere,
turning daily into and out of direct light
and slanting through the quadrant seasons:
deep space begins at our heels,
nearly rousing us loose:
we look up or out so high,
sight's silk almost draws us away:
this is just a place:
currents worry themselves
coiled and free in airs and oceans:
water picks up mineral shadow and plasm
into billions of designs, frames:
trees, grains, bacteria:
but is love a reality we made here ourselves--
and grief--did we design that--or do these,
like currents, whine
in and out among us merely
as we arrive and go:
this is just a place:
the reality we agree with, that agrees with us,
out bounding this, arrives to touch,
joining with us from far away:
our home which defines us is elsewhere
but not so far away we have forgotten it:
this is just a place.”
(In Memoriam Mae Noblitt by A.R. Simmons)</i></b>
The silence of space outside was matched by the silence inside N.F.O. Sputnik. With all life-support systems shut down, there were no fans, no pumps, and no generators, just deafening silence. No lights hummed, for there was no movement to activate them, no doors opened, nothing happened. Sputnik was a ghost ship, a gargantuan floating graveyard gliding through space, carrying thousands of decomposing corpses, human and alien, lying side by side, the victors every bit as dead as the slaughtered humans they defeated. Death was everywhere. Everywhere was death. Only one thing on the ship lived, though it did not breathe, it was in a suspended state, lying dormant, awaiting activation.
The Bacterium was not understood. It was known that the Bacterium was the creator, the source, the very essence of the aliens; but no one knew where it came from, how it managed to get aboard the ships it infected, or how it survived the conditions it did. It was an enigma. The bacterium required a certain type of environment to grow, which it would seek out, floating on the air until it found it, and then it could begin to reproduce. Once the bacterium settled in an environment that had all the necessary requirements for growth, it’s reproduction cycle started. The reproduction cycle that the bacterium followed was much like that of the single cell amoeba, which was believed to be the source of life on planet earth, although the bacterium’s growth was much faster. The single cell of Bacterium that settled would grow until it reached a certain size and then divide into two parts. These two parts would grow to the same size and then divide again. The speed of this process would vary greatly depending on environmental variables like the moisture content in the air, the warmth, and the oxygen levels in the atmosphere. Once a critical mass of cells had been reached the Bacterium evolutionary process changed. As the critical mass of cells reached division size an amazing, and it was amazing, thing would happen. Instead of dividing, the cells merged together, becoming a giant living, breathing cell, a hive, or more correctly a hive membrane. Though not quite being what we know as a hive, these cells would continue their growth, developing further, making evolutionary changes within themselves, changing, adapting, becoming a fully fledged hive. Once the hive was complete they were then capable of producing a creature, low on the evolutionary scale, but capable of fighting, surviving, evolving, and doing the will of the collective.
One thing not commonly realised by people who had heard of the aliens, is that they are not separate entities belonging to the same race, like humans are, they are the same being made from the same cells. They are more closely linked than identical twins, they know and sense everything that happens to each and every Kharaa and structure. Every thing in the alien world is made from the same source Bacterium; they are one in mind and body. They have no individual thought, save knowing they must do what they must to survive, not individually, but as a collective.
Under normal circumstances, when the TSA marines move in and destroy all the hives in an infested ship or station, the Bacterium is destroyed, as it had become the hive, and no longer exists. This is not the case when the aliens are not defeated. The Bacterium is the whole, is the one, the creator. It is the only thing that exists in the alien world. When a battle is fought and won, or when there are no other life forms in the vicinity, the Bacterium reverts back to it’s individual cell state. It becomes dormant, not needing to develop, not needing to grow, not needing to protect itself. This had happened upon N.F.O. Sputnik, the Bacterium had devolved back to its previous state, and was now dormant.
There is something very significant about the Bacterium ability to evolve and develop, and that is a certain element of chance in the equation. The Kharaa have been around for a long time, but throughout that time we have seen many significant shifts in their abilities, in their evolutionary processes and in themselves. Despite what we know about the Kharaa, the very nature of their existence, as evolutionary beings, on demand, means that they will no doubt change in the future. These changes will take many shapes and forms, from the way the creatures behave, and the abilities they have to the possibility of new life forms being created. Whatever it takes for the Kharaa to survive, they will continue to evolve.
Sputnik was waiting to evolve.
Chapter 9 was also quite good and brought out the mood of the scene. sort of an unlifting scene.
Chapter 10 gives a detailed description of bacterium. I liked how you keep on emphasising the point that the bacterium is just one big network. Very organic and mysterious.
Only problem is, there is no transition between 9 and 10. It was just chapter 9 then BAM! Chapter 10. Leaves me confused.
and where do you get the poems?
Apart from the one i wrote myself www.poemhunter.com is where i get my poems from. Just search on keywords and find a poem that fits!!
No one is safe. The streets are unsafe.
Even in the safety zones, it's not safe.
Even safe sex is not safe.
Even things you lock in a safe
are not safe.
<i>(Taken from Social Security by Terence Winch)</i></b>
Six months into the project and Brobdingnagian was running like a dream. The phase two and three colonists had all arrived and were settled into their new jobs, their new homes, and their new lives. Tom Slater was now heading up the largest team he had ever been responsible for, and it was just about to get bigger. The phase two and three arrivals had added another thirty-five members to his team, adding to the first phase ‘family’ that had arrived and worked so hard together, and things hadn’t changed on that front. The arrivals had been divided up into teams with one of the original members as their team leaders. Tom led the New Eden maintenance team, as well as being in overall charge of the teams, but he trusted the others with his life, and each team ran effectively and efficiently on their own. Simon Fairweather, the elder member of the team, and generally the quietest, headed up Utopia’s team. He was an extremely effective organiser, and was given the additional task of organising the workloads for all the teams, making sure everyone knew what they were doing, and when they had to do it by. The team had only ever slipped behind once, on the current project of readying the new section for the phase four arrivals. There wasn’t anything Simon could do about that particular problem, a leakage from the main condenser unit for the sector, causing the need for a new one to be transferred up from one of the yet to open sectors. Unfortunately, transportation of the condensers, from one area to another, wasn't considered in the design, and the teams didn’t have the relevant lifting equipment to do the job properly, so delays were inevitable. As it happened word had been received of the N.F.O. Sputnik having to make a diversionary jump due to pirate attack. Their communications systems were taken out in the attack, but N.F.O. central tracking had confirmed that the ship was still on route to Brobdingnagian and would be there approximately a week late. That suited the forward install team, headed up by Mac, just fine. If they carried on at the current rate, the section’s life support would be ready to go on-line on the day the ship arrived. It would require the phase four arrivals to spread out amongst the other communities first, but they would be able to enter the new sections about a week later, once everything was running correctly. Despite having the job of heading up the team responsible for Haven, the section now occupied by the phase 3 arrivals, Philip managed to spend most of his time out in the field, working in Mac’s team. He and Mac had become as close as brothers and were always joking and drinking together, the practical jokes they played on each other and everyone else were very inventive and extremely funny, even if you were the target.
Each of the original crew was heading up a team of ten, themselves included, except for Tom, his team numbering just nine including him, but they did have the cushy job of looking after the first section, which had been given so much attention when the guys first arrived. It was by far the best life-support system on Brobdingnagian, it had all the latest upgrades, and many personalised enhancements, straight from the knowledge banks of the original team. This was a system that just wasn’t going to go wrong in any major way, unless it was due to outside forces of course.
Tom was sitting back in his office, having a rare break from his duties, when the communication console on the desk illuminated, and announced an incoming call from the governor’s office. “Answer,” called Tom, and the screen changed from its relaxing screen saver background to a picture of Samuel staring at the screen with a huge grin on his face.
“Hello Sammy, what can I do for you today, or should I say, what’s making you so happy? You look like you’re about to burst open and climb out of your own face, your grin is that big.” Laughed Tom.
“Oh nothing really,” replied Samuel, “well, actually, I’ve met this girl up here, her name is Rebecca, well Becky, and we’ve been seeing quite a bit of each other lately.”
“Oh, I see, and the reason for your smile would be the result of one of your more recent meetings with Becky, I would guess?”
“Yes, we’ve decided to make it official, and we’re now a couple.”
“Congratulations my boy, and when can we expect to meet this new flame of yours?”
“I was hoping to get you and the lads to join us for a drink tonight, we were planning to hold it up at the Black Hole bar in Utopia. Do you know where it is?”
“I think so, it’s along Niger on Staten isn’t it?”
“Sure is, we’ll be there from about 8 o’clock, see you then?”
“You can bet your life on it kiddo.”
Tom sat back and reminisced on his meeting with Samuel, when the young lad had disembarked from N.F.O. Sputnik along with the other Phase 2 colonists. Sam had nearly bowled him over in his rush to get to the bar. Tom recognised him from their previous meeting aboard Theodore, when the job was first offered to him, so he bought the lad a drink and introduced him to the rest of the crew. They all got on really well, and the kid was a real laugh.
<i>A home above the year's seasons
home of children animals and apples
a square of empty space
under an absent star
(From Home by Zbigniew Herbert)</i></b>
The arrival of N.F.O Sputnik with its compliment of phase four colonists, was a relatively low-key event, when compared with the carnivals et al for the other phases. In attendance were delegates from the governors office, to represent the official welcome, the Colonial Marine Corps 196th division, providing security and organisation skills now that the unit had been permanently assigned to Brobdingnagian, the head of each unit which had employees aboard, that included Tom Slater, who had another seventy-five employees on the latest transport, and representatives of N.F.O., who were here to meet with commander Shotovski and go over the ship to make sure the damage it had received was limited to the communication channels. Brobdingnagian and Sputnik went through the automated docking processes, the onboard computers of Sputnik controlling every aspect of it’s flight into the docking bay. Brobdingnagian responding by opening the outer bays doors, and closing them behind Sputnik, as she gently landed upon the automated floor of the docking bay. Upon closure of the outer bay doors, and re-pressurisation of the docking area, the inner bay doors opened and Sputnik began rolling into Brobdingnagian for the fourth time.
N.F.O. Sputnik sat there in her own glory, very minor damage on show from the pirate attack. Everyone sat outside waiting for the colonists and commander to step off the ship and into their new home, but the ship remained shut, the doors not opening. Since the 2160’s and the incident that became known as the Triton Disaster, all new ships were fitted with an emergency access system, whereby the owners of the ship could override the security systems and activate an emergency release from the outside. The system operates on a separate plug-in, completely disassociated from the internal computer workings and is only used as an emergency process as it renders the ship useless. After over 2 hours of waiting for the colonists to disembark, a signal from the ship to indicate people in trouble, or indeed any life onboard, communication channels were opened and consultations between the N.F.O. representatives and officials back on the main N.F.O. Headquarters in orbit around Triton began.
Vladimir Comoro was the head of the N.F.O. representatives sent to Brobdingnagian, and it was him to whom the responsibility fell to activate the emergency procedures. The green box, as it had become known, was the key to bypassing the security measures and actually getting onboard a locked-out ship. It wasn’t a recommended procedure, in fact, it was a highly avoided procedure as it cost the company millions to repair the damage, after all, they had to be made secure, and should anyone get hold of a green box, and manage to break the code, most of the major systems onboard the ship would be self-disassembled by nanites, and the nano-sludge destroyed so it’s no longer of any use, thus rendering the ship and it’s latest technology useless to pirates and others who might want to steal the box in the first place. This alone meant that the system was secure, and was only ever used in a situation of true emergency. This was deemed to be one, with no visible signs of life onboard the ship, and external scans confirming those beliefs, it was deemed necessary to go in.
External communication with the computer systems of N.F.O. Sputnik was impossible due to pirate attack having taking out the communications system, but it seemed unlikely from the damage it would have caused anything serious to happen, the hull was intact, systems seemed to be operating correctly, but something obviously wasn’t right. Vladimir was nervous, this was only the second ever instance of the box being used, and while it had worked the first time, with such a young technology there were always doubts, concerns, about whether it would do it’s job. Vladimir plugged the box into the external port on Sputnik and began entering the coded sequence and then the system then took over. In a very complicated process the box requested satellite information and combined it with internal programs and the coded structure input by Vladimir. If it didn’t receive the correct transmissions from N.F.O. satellites, sending out the various authorisation codes the system would fail, and the box would be rendered useless. As it was, everything went according to plan, and with several small explosions, the doors released and opened, and a dark and dank smell drifted from the ship, a smell of death, without the decay. The command system nanites had done their job in recycling the bodies aboard the ship, there were no remains to be seen, apart from the ripped apart doors and ventilation grilles, everything appeared normal. The colonial marines boarded the ship first followed by the N.F.O. representatives. Their mission was simple, get aboard, reach the bridge, and retrieve the ship’s ‘black box’ the system that records and monitors all the ships data throughout the flight. For safety reasons it was decided to go via the shortest route, which meant entering the ship through the loading portal on the main deck, just behind the bridge. This would enable them to get into the bridge, retrieve the data, and get back out in less than five minutes; unnecessary risks were not to be taken.
Sergeant Baker headed up the assault team, Tom had met him on the first day, he was the teams guide, settling them into their new surroundings, Tom liked him, he was a military man, but he had an affable nature, and could get on with anyone. The assault team headed into the ship, ready for action, Sergeant Baker at the head. The route was simple enough, in through the loading portal, take the door five metres inside on the left wall, turn right along a hallway for about ten metres then take the door on the left. The lifts would be out of action following the use of the green box, so they would have to climb the access ladder to the bridge. Once on the bridge, they would have to hold tight, while the N.F.O. representatives downloaded the required information, then they would return via the same route. It was all too easy, at least in theory, but whatever had happened on this ship left them in no doubt, that it may not be as simple as the plan made out. The team confirmed the loading bay as clear and moved towards the door. Sgt. Baker took up his position on the left; Pvt Chambers took up position to the right of the door, while Jones and Taylor stood about two metres back, also covering the door. Vladimir was covering the tail, his automatic pistol bringing him some comfort in the forbidding situation. Baker activated the door and it slid back, all guns, apart from Vladimir’s, trained on the other side, no sign of anything. Baker stepped through towards the right hand wall, gun trained in front of him the whole time, silence, the emergency lighting gave the hall an eerie glow, but it was enough to see by, and there was nothing to see. Baker motioned for the others to come through, Chambers crossed to the left hand wall, gun also trained forward, Jones stepped through and moved further along the wall in front of Chambers, crouching and pointing forwards, while Taylor took up the same position on the opposite wall in front of Baker. Vladimir came through last, still guarding the rear, he took up a position in the middle of the four, completing an X-shaped formation. The front of the formation was nearly halfway to the target door, Jones signalled clear, and then moved, he crossed to the opposite wall about three metres in front of Taylor, giving himself a view of the door, Baker then crossed to take up the position Jones had vacated. Taylor crossed to take up a position opposite Jones, and Vladimir then moved up, with Chambers now facing the rear, to be in the centre again. Vladimir turned to guard behind again and Chambers moved up to take Taylor’s old position, forming the X again. The front two were now covering the next door. Baker waited until Jones signalled clear again, then he moved up, past the door, on the opposite wall, giving himself a clear view of the door, Chambers sprinted past to stand on the far side of the door. Vladimir remained covering the rear. The silence was unnatural, there were no noises being created on the ship, apart from the groaning of the hull, and the breathing of the assault team, oh so quiet. On Baker’s word, Chambers hit the switch and the door opened. Nothing leapt out, nothing moved, nothing made a sound. Chambers stepped through first, crossing to the other side, while Taylor slipped through behind, also swapping sides. Scanning left and right, up and down, they gave the all clear. Baker waved Vladimir through first, then followed through himself, Jones moving in last, Vladimir was still covering behind. “Alright,” stated Baker, “we made it this far without any problems, but I’m not taking anything for granted here, it’s way too quiet for my liking.”
Baker looked around at the team, “Jones, you go up the ladder first, and I want you, Chambers, to follow him up, not too close mind, cos if he needs to get back down that ladder in a hurry, you don’t want to be in his way.” Jones turned to look at Chambers and smiled, “yeah, I doubt you could do much to stop 250 pounds coming down on top of you.”
“Vladimir, you will go up next, when they give the all clear, then myself, and I’ll get you to bring up the rear Taylor. When we get to the top, I want Jones and Chambers securing the far corners of the bridge, I’ll stick centre, and I want you, Taylor, to cover this ladder.”
“Roger that.” Replied Taylor
“OK then, move out boys.”
Jones scurried up the ladder first, he may have been big, but he was solid muscle and as athletic as they come. He reached the top of the ladder checked over the edge, satisfied there was no danger he pulled himself over, Chambers was quick to follow. They scouted across to the far corners of the bridge “Clear.” Came the call from Jones. Vladimir went next, with Baker and then Taylor in pursuit. They all got over the top and took up their positions, while Vladimir began to download the ships encrypted data files.
<i>But droue in Ioues owne lap his egs to lay;
Where gathering also filth him to infest,
Forst with the filth his egs to fling away:
For which when as the Foule was wroth, said Ioue,
Lo how the least the greatest may reproue.
(From Visions of the worlds vanitie by Edmund Spenser)</i></b>
Oxygen. Moisture. Warmth. Somewhere in the distance lay existence, it knew it had to evolve, it could feel the presence of the alien life forms. Drawn to the source of life, floating on the air, microscopic cells, swaying, soaring, swinging and dipping, always drawn by instinct to the place where it could grow. Drifting through the ship, heading towards the newly opened air sources, travelling, silently on the breeze, passing a mass of life forms, can’t settle here, need space to grow, far from the creatures that destroy.
The Bacterium drifted on the currents until it reached the deepest recesses of all four of the currently operational sections aboard Brobdingnagian. The first section it settled in was the newly opened Conversion, where the N.F.O. Sputnik had landed. The bacterium settled and began to grow and reproduce, grow and multiply, in the perfect conditions, where no humans lived, and none would, as they had been wiped out aboard the ship. The cells began to divide, and the green moss like covering began to appear, as the cells divided and grew, divided and grew. Must survive, must destroy, must survive.
The Bacterium floated through the ventilation systems, between the various sections of Brobdingnagian, only able to grow in the sections where the life-support systems were already up and running. Settling in the locations offering the best chance of growth, of evolving, of destroying, of surviving.
Life forms nearby, must evolve quickly, must destroy, and must survive. Everywhere the bacterium settled it began to grow. It would happen at different rates, depending on the conditions in the area where it was. It would grow, divide, grow, and divide again, until it took on the form of the green moss like substance known as infestation. It was growing throughout the settled areas of Brobdingnagian, but was growing the fastest in the yet uninhabited section of Conversion.
Vladimir sat staring at the screen, with his fellow N.F.O. representatives, his eyes transfixed, as the data files were simultaneously played back and broadcast to N.F.O. headquarters, orbiting around Triton. The initial system data that had been read through produced no anomalies, and confirmed that, during the pirate attack, the only system that got damaged in the ship was the communications system.
The first anomaly occurred when the data systems began reporting internal structural damage. There appeared to be no reason for it, no system malfunctions, no explosions, nothing disruptive at all. The reports of structural damage continued right up to, and beyond, the second anomaly, the switching off of the life support systems by the ship’s commander, Andrei Shotovski. Further readings of data were reeled off and transmitted, none providing the clues or answers that they were looking for, that was until the final piece of information was sent, the recordings from the ship’s closed circuit camera system. These were the images that held everyone transfixed, terror growing in their eyes as they witnessed the death and carnage. Now everything fell into place, the commander had turned off the life support to wipe out the Kharaa, to save the people of Brobdingnagian from the fate the crew and passengers onboard N.F.O. Sputnik had faced.
Action was required, and there was only one group of people who would know what to do. Reluctantly it was agreed between N.F.O and the government of United America that the call should be made. The number was dialled.
“Hello, TSA Headquarters, what name please?”
“I’d like to be put through to Admiral Rathine Studaber please, this is the United America governmental secretary, and we have a situation.”
“I’ll put you through to her office now.”
<i>So Man, grown vigorous now,
Holds himself ripe to breed,
Daily devises how
To ejaculate his seed
And boldly fertilize
The black womb of the unconsenting skies.
(Taken from Prelude To Space by C.S. Lewis) </i></b>
Tom sat back in his chair, with his legs stretched out on the table, deep in thought. He was troubled, troubled by the news of the fate that had befallen the people aboard Sputnik, a ship he himself had been a passenger aboard, and troubled by the faults that were creeping into the life support systems. Although the security team and various government officials had tried their best to keep the terrible events that had happened on Sputnik a secret, it hadn’t taken long for word to get out. Eventually the governor made an announcement over the V-Comm network, confirming the incident, what had happened, and what was being done. Tom now had a myriad of problems to deal with, starting with his staffing levels. Despite the incident, it was decided that the populating of Brobdingnagian should continue at the previously agreed rate, this meant opening up a new section every four to six weeks. To get the groundwork done, and the systems fully operational and checked, meant he needed every one of the seventy-five men and women assigned to him that were lost aboard Sputnik, and now there were problems in Conversion. Uncharacteristic faults were developing in the system, wires were breaking away from their housings, vent shafts were shearing off their support brackets, and leaks were appearing in recycling pipes. Tom was feeling the strain of being the man in charge and his face was beginning to show the tension he felt, lines were appearing and his hair was greying. Every team was now out in the field, either working on the new sections, or repairing the faults in Conversion. Tom decided that the best place for him to be was out in the field with his men where he felt safe, safe from the terrible visions that were encroaching into his waking thoughts almost as much as they were into his nightmares.
Mac sat back as he listened to Phil whistling one of the current party songs of the moment. Despite all the pressure they were under, despite all that had happened, Phil still kept whistling. Phil stopped whistling. Mac sat bolt upright listening, backing away from his work, towards the vent exit nearest to where Phil had been working. It wasn’t so much that Phil had stopped whistling, after all he had to breathe sometimes, it was the way it stopped, mid song, sudden, without a trail off. Mac stepped through the exit and saw Phil standing, rooted to the spot, completely motionless, staring around the corner. As Mac drew nearer and began to follow the curve of the vent, a figure came into view, the same figure that held Phil motionless, and that now sent a shiver down Mac’s spine. The figure was Gordon Freestone, one of the techs in Mac’s team, and he was laying on the floor, his protective suit ripped and torn, almost as though it had been bitten through, his blood staining the white exterior of the suit and growing into a puddle on the floor, it was this that had caught Phil’s attention and drawn him round there, and now he couldn’t move. Mac recovered from the initial shock quickly, he didn’t bother to check if Gordon was still alive, there was no point, it the bite hadn’t killed him anyway, the blood loss would have. Mac opened up the emergency frequency on the V-Comm system and requested an evacuation of the Conversion section, and a military presence to be sent in, something had killed Gordon, and he didn’t want to stay around for whatever it was to come back. Mac grabbed Phil and began to shake him. “Come on boy, snap out of it, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Phil continued to stare ahead, Mac looked into his eyes, then behind at the body of Gordon, and then back to Phil’s eyes. It didn’t take long to realise Phil wasn’t staring at the body; his eyes were transfixed on something else, something beyond their dead colleague. Very slowly Mac released his grip and turned around to find what was holding Phil’s gaze.
Those eyes.
Sergeant Baker and his team had responded to the call instantly. Evacuation of the workers and the few people who had decided to take up residence in Conversion began immediately. It was only twenty minutes after the call was placed that they arrived on the scene, it may as well have been hours. As well as the body of Gordon, there lay the bodies of Mac and Phil. Mac looked as if he had tried to put a fight, and had paid the consequences by being torn limb from limb. Phil had received a couple of bites to the neck, and had died without a struggle. Baker was the first to respond.
“Squad fan out, Taylor, you cover that vent entrance, Jones cover the left passage, Chambers you cover the rear entrance, get going, now!” he barked.
The squad followed Bakers instructions to the letter immediately. They had worked with him for many years, Chambers and Jones both seeing active service with the sergeant. He was the most respected military mind on the station, although not the highest ranked, and his knowledge was utilised by every military person on board. Seven times now sergeant Baker had been offered instant promotion to captain and seven times he had refused it. He was a man of action, there was no way he was going to sit behind a desk pushing a pen round telling people how to fight, he was going to be out there in the thick of it showing them how to fight. It was because of his attitude and brains, and the fact that he valued the life of each of his men as highly as his own, that he was followed without thought or question, without argument or hesitation. It was now his men needed him, and it was now he needed his men. He was in no doubt what had happened here. He had seen so many similar instances on the video that had come out of Sputnik. The Kharaa were here, evacuation must begin immediately. Baker barked more orders to his men. “Squad fall back to base, tactical formation, cover every angle, Chambers, Jones, you two take point, Taylor cover rear with me.”
“Affirmative sir.” Replied Chambers as he scurried towards the front
“Keep your eyes peeled boys, this is not friendly territory anymore. We are officially behind enemy lines.”
“Roger that Sgt.” Jones concurred, thinking back to the video stream of what had happened on N.F.O. Sputnik, “this is hell’s domain now.”