Ok all, having recently started re-reading Harry Turtledove's excellent World War In The Balance novel, I have finally been inspired with the subject and plot for my book.
I will be posting my book here, as I complete it and since thigns are really quiet here this week, and large portion of my wokr will come through in the next few days. I am inspired for the first time in a long time..
The book though, being my first large scale work, will borrow heavily from many many sources and as a challenge I think it would be cool for you guys to see if you can spot all the influences, they should be rather simple.
I will not be giving any sort of history into the world im writing about or any hints as to wtf is going on. Its going to take an almost Tarantino'ish swing and im keen to explore that as a writing tool, so bear with me if you please.
If at any time any inconsistencies in logic or continuity are noticed, i implore you to contact me so that i can fix them, and i do ask that while you be courteous at all times (as confidence is a fragile teacup) you be honest about the writing and tell me if it's not up to a standard that i will try my level best to maintain.
Expect the story in the next little while, the first bit is going up soon.
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QUOTE
Its going to take an almost Tarantino'ish swing
So can we expect some gruesome death scenes and the likes?
Abdolutely
Ok, here it is, as I have started. Kinda nervous but here goes. Please note, the Dramaticus Personae will continue to change as more characters are added...
Dramaticus Personae
Crew of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Captain William Barbosa - Captain of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
FO James Cartell – First Office of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Lieutenant Corbin ‘Patch’ Lamar – Chief of Engineering of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
First Mate Jamal ‘Gunner’ McFadden – First Mate of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Senior Officer Michael ‘Brains’ O’Harra – Psionic of the U.E.F Nautilus II
Councillor Spartas ‘Priest’ Reagan – Ship’s Councillor
Ajax ‘Bard’ – Artificial Sentience
Natives of Arbaleth
Dastel Amreth – Mage of the Amroth Royal Court
MISSION LOG
U.E.F Nautilus II
After the disaster at Klandathu, our new Sky Marshall has requested that the crew and I, perform our long awaited duty and take the Nautilus II on her perilous first voyage. Aptly named, our Starship is the first of its kind to attempt this kind of journey, our prayers go out though, that its maiden voyage will not be as ill fated as its namesake’s.
Our primary destination is the metaphasic instability in the nebula cluster outside of Terra Ordos. While our mission parameters are known in their entirety only by me, the men know their duties and have been well prepared for the worm hole entry. Our simulations have been run countless times, and Patch assured me the hull would survive the gravometric flux.
At present course and velocity, the Nautilus II should reach approximation point 3.26 in the next 16 hours, and it has occurred to me to log our history, in the eventuality we shall not return. The Sky Marshall briefed me on the massacre at Klandathu. One hundred thousand dead in an hour, a generation…gone, in a moment. We have not suffered such a loss since the war began. Priest would thank the Lord for the orbital defences around the moon, yet…I can’t help but wonder, what good will they do in the long run. Perhaps, this is why they have selected me to lead this fool’s errand, to bring back the Holy Grail, maybe even something else. We need a rallying flag, I was told, for against such numbers, there can be no victory.
Of all the crew, my First Officer, James has served with me the longest. At least Earth Federation saw it fit to provide me with one familiar face before I was sent to die, I should be thankful I suppose. The rest of the crew, I will no doubt come to learn as time draws on. Time that we don’t have. God’s preserve us all.
Captain William Barbosa
END LOG
When nature suffers a disability, its skills adapt and improve in compensation. What weaknesses ail humanity, and which strengths have we that are heightened by extension?
- Musing
His hands crept over her back, with a gentle, but firm pressure as he explored the lower crevices of her back. She arched her body into his warm embrace as their lips met and they began to probe the recesses of each other’s mouths in earnest. Years of back seat encounters had rendered him a master of one-handed derobings as he testified by undoing her bra with his free hand, feeling more than a little pleased with his ability to do it still after such a long time. She murmured approval as her hands fumbled for the clasp of his flannel pants. Finding them undone in her hands, she wrestled them down around his knees, as he busied himself with removing her scant clothing and trying his level best to divert her fluctuating attentions with numerous small kisses and bites about her person. All pretence of foreplay was abandoned as she groaned her assent in his ear, whereupon lifting her off the floor under the kitchen table into his cradling arms, they consummated his last night on Earth and said farewell not only to each other, but all sense of everything but the moment. Such was her desire for him, that she spasmed and jerked every bit as hard as he did, sweating his shirt clean through so that it clung to his breast as tightly as she wished she could, long after they had ceased their activities. After what seemed like and eternity, coalesced into a single moment, he tore himself away from her desperate embrace and made his way to the bedroom.
The last few days had not been kind to James. Grey streaked stubble roughed the skin on his chin and added years he felt had no right being there, marring his overage 36. Wielding the cheap hotel razor like a seasoned expert, he found once more, as with her bra, that there were some conditioned actions a man did not forget. Having cleaned his face and relieved himself in the head, he rinsed his mouth with freshener that he was sure could power a spacecraft as battery acid. Come to think of it, it tasted rather a lot like battery acid, although he – he reminded himself – that was a night he was not keen to relive, even in his own mind. He made his way wearily to the bedroom, only to be greeted by her, wearing her negligee like a naughty smile, splayed out on his bed, invitingly daring him to come to her. The twinkle in her eye told him the answer to the question “Again?” he has been about to ask. As he made purposefully for her, she stayed him, albeit briefly, with her hand, saying, “Only this time, lose the shirt.”
“Helsman, make you course mark 16.79. Maximum power” came the crisp, clipped order from Captain Barbosa. Cartell snapped out his reverie and blamed the lapse in attention on the anxiety threatening to claim him now that the wormhole had come into sight. “Make it so” the Captain finished in his customary fashion before turning to Cartell asking “Wool gathering number one?”
“Wool gathering sir?”
“An old Earth expression somewhat akin to day dreaming”
“Ah I see sir. Yes, I guess…I guess its just seeing that wormhole. Knowing what we know, or rather, how little we know, made me think back on better times.”
“Indeed number one. I too have found myself” he paused with a cheeky smile splayed across his face “excessively wool gathering of late.” After another pause, “Are you familiar with Napoleon Syndrome James?”
The sudden switch in the conversation’s movement caught the First Officer off guard and he shook his head, answering his captain in the negative.
“It is a condition that submarine crews of old Earth used to suffer from. It was actually the cause of countless mutinies and defections before its existence was discovered and eradicated. It was a severe discontentment that ailed crews who had not been given proper pomp and circumstance before leaving on long voyages. They would often feel neglected and unappreciated. Admittedly, one’s mind and perception is radically altered after living countless months basically on top of your crew mates under water with little or no contact with the outside world”
“You fear a mutiny Captain?” The shocked question tasted more like a bitter salt in his mouth than a question. The thought of such an action was beyond thinkable. Humanity had been beyond such base actions since the bugs, and with bugs as enemies, humanity could not afford to fight amongst itself.
“Gracious no number one. There was no point, just, how shall we say, wool gathering out loud”. They chuckled together as the toneless voice of Bard reminded them of their duties. “We have reached the desired target area Captain.”
“Very good. Computer, Full Alert, all decks, security clearance, Barbosa, Captain William.” Touching a small button on his armrest to broadcast his message ship wide, he continued, “We are about to enter the wormhole, I suggest you find something firm and hold on to it. Priest, your prayers are appreciated, Michael, watch mental patterns. I want to know if anyone gets space dementia before they kill us all if you don’t mind.”
“And if I get dementia Captain?” Michael, the crew’s harbinger of doom, never missed an opportunity to sow a little doubt. Doubt increased attentiveness he believed. What a motley bunch he had.
“Then we will fire your living carcass out the torpedo hatch and be done with it. Anything else? Good, helmsman, set course for the wormhole, make your speed one quarter. Gunner, shields at maximum, Patch, you know what to do. Number one, take her in”. Barbosa regained his seat as his first mate gave the remaining orders to set the craft on its final descent in this galaxy.
Had the wormhole’s unfathomable elctrostatic emission not clouded the functionality of the ships sensor array, the crew of the U.E.F. Nautilus II might have noticed a blue streak, comprised of what seemed to be a million and one tiny blue pixies, roar at them from behind, and latch onto their ship’s fuselage. The blue congealed liquid, which was actually bug spore, hardened into a near unbreakable carapace and began the only instinct it knew of – self-defence.
The day had started out so well. A good night’s rest, pleasant dreams, no one had even waken him prematurely; disrupting the pittance of rest he was afforded by his position. But now this. The injustice of it threatened to overwhelm his cool and calm exterior, plunging him inexorably into another one of his brooding moods, moods that were punctuated by his propensity to blast things at random.
Dastel snaked his hands into the bag of holding at his side. The remarkable, and relatively rare bag whose interior surface was significantly larger than its outer surface, contained many of the ingredients he used in the composition and use of his spells. Finding the hardened ball of sulphur encased into wax, he drew it from the pouch and gathered a candle from the overhanging candelabra. He squeezed it and muttered a few intelligible syllables, before the sulphur was suddenly consumed and his hand roared into flame. The strength of the spell surprised him, and he spent a moment admiring the warm roar of the flames which should have been consuming his hand, before deciding that the inferior light the candle would provide to be unsatisfactory. Casting away the candle, he made his way up his lonely mage tower, to the scrying chamber at its apex. His pool of liquid pearl swirled thick like oil and flickered with changing rainbow colours as the light from the flames refracted off its surface. Digging in the bag of holding once more, his other hand emerged this time instead with a fragment of moonstone. The pool accepted the small piece of rock gratefully and obligingly its surface hardened and smoother into the most perfect mirror that was possible. A scene played back before Dastel, a scene where a fireball of metal screamed down from the heavens and plummeted into the earth, sending a shower of earth and rock hundreds of feet into the air before it came down once more, raining destruction on what little of the hamlet had survived the initial explosion. Something on the back of the object shot off of what Dastel surmised was the stern and rocketed into the air. It slowly lost momentum as it rose before it hung in the air for second, before an explosion of overwhelming force rocked the entire chamber. The subsequent conflagration turned whatever else had been living in the crater into a smoking crisp of nothingness as the pearl water rippled a final time and the image surrendered itself to the rainbow colours of its previous state. With an out of place pop, the flames on Dastel’s hands went out. For a few moments, silence was all that could be heard, broken finally by a single statement “Tymora save us all”.
Ok, here it is, as I have started. Kinda nervous but here goes. Please note, the Dramaticus Personae will continue to change as more characters are added...
Dramaticus Personae
Crew of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Captain William Barbosa - Captain of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
FO James Cartell – First Office of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Lieutenant Corbin ‘Patch’ Lamar – Chief of Engineering of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
First Mate Jamal ‘Gunner’ McFadden – First Mate of the U.E.F. Nautilus II
Senior Officer Michael ‘Brains’ O’Harra – Psionic of the U.E.F Nautilus II
Councillor Spartas ‘Priest’ Reagan – Ship’s Councillor
Ajax ‘Bard’ – Artificial Sentience
Natives of Arbaleth
Dastel Amreth – Mage of the Amroth Royal Court
MISSION LOG
U.E.F Nautilus II
After the disaster at Klandathu, our new Sky Marshall has requested that the crew and I, perform our long awaited duty and take the Nautilus II on her perilous first voyage. Aptly named, our Starship is the first of its kind to attempt this kind of journey, our prayers go out though, that its maiden voyage will not be as ill fated as its namesake’s.
Our primary destination is the metaphasic instability in the nebula cluster outside of Terra Ordos. While our mission parameters are known in their entirety only by me, the men know their duties and have been well prepared for the worm hole entry. Our simulations have been run countless times, and Patch assured me the hull would survive the gravometric flux.
At present course and velocity, the Nautilus II should reach approximation point 3.26 in the next 16 hours, and it has occurred to me to log our history, in the eventuality we shall not return. The Sky Marshall briefed me on the massacre at Klandathu. One hundred thousand dead in an hour, a generation…gone, in a moment. We have not suffered such a loss since the war began. Priest would thank the Lord for the orbital defences around the moon, yet…I can’t help but wonder, what good will they do in the long run. Perhaps, this is why they have selected me to lead this fool’s errand, to bring back the Holy Grail, maybe even something else. We need a rallying flag, I was told, for against such numbers, there can be no victory.
Of all the crew, my First Officer, James has served with me the longest. At least Earth Federation saw it fit to provide me with one familiar face before I was sent to die, I should be thankful I suppose. The rest of the crew, I will no doubt come to learn as time draws on. Time that we don’t have. God’s preserve us all.
Captain William Barbosa
END LOG
When nature suffers a disability, its skills adapt and improve in compensation. What weaknesses ail humanity, and which strengths have we that are heightened by extension?
- Musing
His hands crept over her back, with a gentle, but firm pressure as he explored the lower crevices of her back. She arched her body into his warm embrace as their lips met and they began to probe the recesses of each other’s mouths in earnest. Years of back seat encounters had rendered him a master of one-handed derobings as he testified by undoing her bra with his free hand, feeling more than a little pleased with his ability to do it still after such a long time. She murmured approval as her hands fumbled for the clasp of his flannel pants. Finding them undone in her hands, she wrestled them down around his knees, as he busied himself with removing her scant clothing and trying his level best to divert her fluctuating attentions with numerous small kisses and bites about her person. All pretence of foreplay was abandoned as she groaned her assent in his ear, whereupon lifting her off the floor under the kitchen table into his cradling arms, they consummated his last night on Earth and said farewell not only to each other, but all sense of everything but the moment. Such was her desire for him, that she spasmed and jerked every bit as hard as he did, sweating his shirt clean through so that it clung to his breast as tightly as she wished she could, long after they had ceased their activities. After what seemed like and eternity, coalesced into a single moment, he tore himself away from her desperate embrace and made his way to the bedroom.
The last few days had not been kind to James. Grey streaked stubble roughed the skin on his chin and added years he felt had no right being there, marring his overage 36. Wielding the cheap hotel razor like a seasoned expert, he found once more, as with her bra, that there were some conditioned actions a man did not forget. Having cleaned his face and relieved himself in the head, he rinsed his mouth with freshener that he was sure could power a spacecraft as battery acid. Come to think of it, it tasted rather a lot like battery acid, although he – he reminded himself – that was a night he was not keen to relive, even in his own mind. He made his way wearily to the bedroom, only to be greeted by her, wearing her negligee like a naughty smile, splayed out on his bed, invitingly daring him to come to her. The twinkle in her eye told him the answer to the question “Again?” he has been about to ask. As he made purposefully for her, she stayed him, albeit briefly, with her hand, saying, “Only this time, lose the shirt.”
“Helsman, make you course mark 16.79. Maximum power” came the crisp, clipped order from Captain Barbosa. Cartell snapped out his reverie and blamed the lapse in attention on the anxiety threatening to claim him now that the wormhole had come into sight. “Make it so” the Captain finished in his customary fashion before turning to Cartell asking “Wool gathering number one?”
“Wool gathering sir?”
“An old Earth expression somewhat akin to day dreaming”
“Ah I see sir. Yes, I guess…I guess its just seeing that wormhole. Knowing what we know, or rather, how little we know, made me think back on better times.”
“Indeed number one. I too have found myself” he paused with a cheeky smile splayed across his face “excessively wool gathering of late.” After another pause, “Are you familiar with Napoleon Syndrome James?”
The sudden switch in the conversation’s movement caught the First Officer off guard and he shook his head, answering his captain in the negative.
“It is a condition that submarine crews of old Earth used to suffer from. It was actually the cause of countless mutinies and defections before its existence was discovered and eradicated. It was a severe discontentment that ailed crews who had not been given proper pomp and circumstance before leaving on long voyages. They would often feel neglected and unappreciated. Admittedly, one’s mind and perception is radically altered after living countless months basically on top of your crew mates under water with little or no contact with the outside world”
“You fear a mutiny Captain?” The shocked question tasted more like a bitter salt in his mouth than a question. The thought of such an action was beyond thinkable. Humanity had been beyond such base actions since the bugs, and with bugs as enemies, humanity could not afford to fight amongst itself.
“Gracious no number one. There was no point, just, how shall we say, wool gathering out loud”. They chuckled together as the toneless voice of Bard reminded them of their duties. “We have reached the desired target area Captain.”
“Very good. Computer, Full Alert, all decks, security clearance, Barbosa, Captain William.” Touching a small button on his armrest to broadcast his message ship wide, he continued, “We are about to enter the wormhole, I suggest you find something firm and hold on to it. Priest, your prayers are appreciated, Michael, watch mental patterns. I want to know if anyone gets space dementia before they kill us all if you don’t mind.”
“And if I get dementia Captain?” Michael, the crew’s harbinger of doom, never missed an opportunity to sow a little doubt. Doubt increased attentiveness he believed. What a motley bunch he had.
“Then we will fire your living carcass out the torpedo hatch and be done with it. Anything else? Good, helmsman, set course for the wormhole, make your speed one quarter. Gunner, shields at maximum, Patch, you know what to do. Number one, take her in”. Barbosa regained his seat as his first mate gave the remaining orders to set the craft on its final descent in this galaxy.
Had the wormhole’s unfathomable elctrostatic emission not clouded the functionality of the ships sensor array, the crew of the U.E.F. Nautilus II might have noticed a blue streak, comprised of what seemed to be a million and one tiny blue pixies, roar at them from behind, and latch onto their ship’s fuselage. The blue congealed liquid, which was actually bug spore, hardened into a near unbreakable carapace and began the only instinct it knew of – self-defence.
The day had started out so well. A good night’s rest, pleasant dreams, no one had even waken him prematurely; disrupting the pittance of rest he was afforded by his position. But now this. The injustice of it threatened to overwhelm his cool and calm exterior, plunging him inexorably into another one of his brooding moods, moods that were punctuated by his propensity to blast things at random.
Dastel snaked his hands into the bag of holding at his side. The remarkable, and relatively rare bag whose interior surface was significantly larger than its outer surface, contained many of the ingredients he used in the composition and use of his spells. Finding the hardened ball of sulphur encased into wax, he drew it from the pouch and gathered a candle from the overhanging candelabra. He squeezed it and muttered a few intelligible syllables, before the sulphur was suddenly consumed and his hand roared into flame. The strength of the spell surprised him, and he spent a moment admiring the warm roar of the flames which should have been consuming his hand, before deciding that the inferior light the candle would provide to be unsatisfactory. Casting away the candle, he made his way up his lonely mage tower, to the scrying chamber at its apex. His pool of liquid pearl swirled thick like oil and flickered with changing rainbow colours as the light from the flames refracted off its surface. Digging in the bag of holding once more, his other hand emerged this time instead with a fragment of moonstone. The pool accepted the small piece of rock gratefully and obligingly its surface hardened and smoother into the most perfect mirror that was possible. A scene played back before Dastel, a scene where a fireball of metal screamed down from the heavens and plummeted into the earth, sending a shower of earth and rock hundreds of feet into the air before it came down once more, raining destruction on what little of the hamlet had survived the initial explosion. Something on the back of the object shot off of what Dastel surmised was the stern and rocketed into the air. It slowly lost momentum as it rose before it hung in the air for second, before an explosion of overwhelming force rocked the entire chamber. The subsequent conflagration turned whatever else had been living in the crater into a smoking crisp of nothingness as the pearl water rippled a final time and the image surrendered itself to the rainbow colours of its previous state. With an out of place pop, the flames on Dastel’s hands went out. For a few moments, silence was all that could be heard, broken finally by a single statement “Tymora save us all”.
QUOTE
After the disaster at Klandathu, our new Sky Marshall has requested that
straight out of starship troopers
So like, what ever happened to this?
Anyway its all a bit confusing in an interesting way, a weird blend of Dune, Star-Trek, SST and DnD.
Im guessing the two narritives, the sci-fi and fantasy one are gonna come together in a resounding clash at some point?
Persoanlly Id like to see you take this and steer it away from popular fiction and make it your own work with some solid original ideas (and also the droppage of some cliches like the hive of scum and villanry bits).
Anyway its all a bit confusing in an interesting way, a weird blend of Dune, Star-Trek, SST and DnD.
Im guessing the two narritives, the sci-fi and fantasy one are gonna come together in a resounding clash at some point?
Persoanlly Id like to see you take this and steer it away from popular fiction and make it your own work with some solid original ideas (and also the droppage of some cliches like the hive of scum and villanry bits).
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