City of IF

[UndeadCowboy]

Hello and welcome!

I'll start with a short, painfully written intro. I am UndeadCowboy, and I have a story to share. The story in question is a sci-fi I have been working on since around mid December. It's about an orphan, a bounty hunter, a captain, a pilot, a blade mistress and a mechanic, and their journeys throughout the galaxy.

Oh yeah, it also contains a little swearing, so I don't know, don't let them kiddies at it.

And so with no further ado, enjoy!

----

Chapter One
The Hunter


Aborea Prime
Approx. 1054 km from Cratar Skydock

The sky was tinted a dusky maroon as the sun began to set over the Aborean jungle. Aborea was dense rainforest, with very sparse settlement up until twelve years prior, when the Skydock was installed. Two Royal Arcadian Marines trudged along a muddy path, sweating as they chopped at the dense undergrowth with thick machetes.

“Geez, this planet’s a nightmare!” the lead marine complained as he chopped at a particularly thick branch, “If it’s not pouring with rain, its boiling hot! And the humidity!”

“I hear you, brother,” the second marine replied, “These uniforms don’t help either.”

“Well at least they keep the insects out,” the first marine said as he pulled at the high collar of his uniform shirt.


A few moments after the marines had walked past, a pair of men crawled out from the undergrowth. Both wore ghillie suits and had long range rifles slung across their backs.

“Garret! Did you see how carelessly the leader was swinging his blade? Nearly chopped my arm off!” he said as he indicated a small cut in his suit, just above the shoulder blade.

“Sometimes you’ve got to take one for the team, Davin,” Garret said, grinning, “Anyway, I wish we could try those experimental cloaking devices the techs were working on. We could prance straight in and these guys would be none the wiser.”

“Too high risk. They emit electromagnetic waves which are detectable up to five-hundred metres away. We’d be caught long before we even reached the camp,” Davin said as he patted the burlap camouflage suit, “Sometimes the low-tech option is best.”

“Yeah, well I still think it would make these cloak and dagger missions a lot safer and easier,” Garret said eyeing the path, “Let’s go. We should probably move up before the next patrol comes through.”

With that, the two snipers moved off into the jungle. They moved quickly and quietly as they headed to their objective, sidestepping patrols as they went. After securing their objective, a small shelf in a cliff face, they began to sight their weapons and check their lines of fire.

“Hey, it looks like the cliff continues under the tree line, then rises again at about two o'clock,” Davin indicated a rise off to the right a short distance away, “I’ll set up over there, then we can get a decent crossfire on the camp.”

“Okay, don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Garret said as he caught sight of the encampment where their target was hidden.

“Yes, sir,” Davin said with a lopsided smile and a sarcastic salute, “I’ll let you know when I’m in position.”

Garret smiled as he saw Davin sneak off down the cliff face out of the corner of his eye. While he waited for Davin to get into position, he made himself comfortable. He pushed a button on his earpiece and music filtered into his headset, loud enough to enjoy, but quiet enough that it wouldn’t alert nearby soldiers to his presence.

“Garret, I’m in position. What’s your status?” he heard Davin’s voice crackle over the earpiece.

“I’m green light,” Garret said as he pressed his thumb and index finger to the throat pads which would pick up the vibrations of his vocal cords and allow Davin to hear him, “Commence mission. Mark targets as you see them.”

Over the course of an hour, the two snipers had identified everyone in the encampment, except their target.

“I think he might be leaving the red tent, centre of camp,” Davin said, “I can’t get a clean shot from here, maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Okay, I see him. Find a secondary target quick, he looks like he’s in a hurry,” Garret replied, sighting in on a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an officer’s uniform.

“Got just the one,” Davin responded slyly.

“Ready? Three, two, one, fire!” Garret said as he pulled the trigger.

An ear-splitting crack emitted from his rifle as the high velocity round escaped the barrel, the target oblivious to his impending demise. He faintly heard a similar crack half a second later. Right as the bullet made contact with the target, a fiery explosion engulfed a quarter of the camp. Davin must have hit a hydrogen generator for that kind of effect, Garret thought.

“Hey, Garret, mission accomplished! Let’s get back to the Skydock and get some drinks!” Davin said as Garret moved to leave.

“Hang on, Davin, we’ve still got to avoid these patrols, which will be on double alert now that their base is gone,” Garret said as he slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled out his sidearm, a custom piece called a Dragonslayer.

The Dragonslayer was a revolver capable of holding twelve rounds in the chamber, and was slightly larger than a Smith & Wesson .500. As he made it down the cliff face he began to hear shouts and deep-throated growls.

“Umm, I think they have guoras,” Davin said over the radio, voicing Garret’s fears.

“Have they caught your scent?” Garret said, running as he heard the growling get closer.

“I don’t think s- Oh shit!” Davin exclaimed as a keening sound came over the radio, followed by Davin’s screams of agony.

Garret ripped the earpiece from his ear; it was no use to him now, except as a distraction. If he was heading in the right direction, he should be coming up to a river. He could hear the growling behind him turn to the same high keening sound he heard in the radio. The guora was within pouncing distance. He wasn’t going to make the river at this rate. He spun and crouched at the right moment for the guoras mass to sail right over his head, missing by inches. Garret took this opportunity to fire his pistol into the beast’s stomach. He continued his spin until he was facing the guora, now trapped between it and its handlers.

Garret took stock of his situation. The guora was a vaguely feline animal the size of a large motorcycle. It had bull-like features, and was fast and flexible, although determined in a charge. The two soldiers were close enough that he could attack them before they could lift their weapons, but that would mean turning away from the guora, leaving himself open for an attack. Attacking the guora may buy him some time, but he wouldn’t be able to kill the soldiers before taking at least one bullet. In this humidity, that was a bad idea.

Garret decided to do the only thing he could. He half turned to the soldiers, who dropped their weapons to grapple. The guora saw this opening and charged, teeth bared in a snarl. Garret dropped to the floor and fired one shot at the guora as it pounced, hitting it square in the throat. The guora, no longer in control of its body, flew into the soldiers. The soldiers were pinned to the ground by the guoras immense bulk, but Garret saw none of this, as he was already on the way to the river.



The river was not very big, more of a creek than a river, really. That was irrelevant, as it led exactly where Garret needed to go. He followed the river for about 10 kilometres, pretending to be leaf garbage floating downstream when soldiers walked by.

When he reached the 11th kilometre mark, he found the transport he and Davin had taken to get out into the jungle. Inside he found a change of clothes and a compartment to stow the ghillie suit and weapons. He changed into a loose button-up shirt, some baggy trousers, and a pair of thick boots. When he was finished, he washed his face in the stream, removing the camouflage paint on his face, completing his disguise. He climbed into the rugged transport and drove along the road until he came to a roadblock.

“Stop! This is a restricted area! What do you think you’re doing here?” the officer in charge said as he held up an authoritative hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise,” Garret apologised to the soldier, “You see I was looking for Aorn. I’m looking to get to Cratar so I can go home to Fenrir.”

“Off-worlder, huh? Not many of those around here,” the officer replied blandly, “Aorn’s back the way you came. Go about 5 kilometres on this road. When you come to a fork in the road, take the left fork. Should be in Aorn by breakfast time.”

“Thank you so much sir,” Garret faked gratitude, “I might have gotten lost without your help.”

“Glad to help, just get there safe,” the officer smiled and waved as he pulled away.

Of course, Garret didn’t need the directions; he knew exactly where Aorn was. He just liked to toy with the Royals when he could. Gavin spent the rest of the trip humming along to the radio. When he pulled into Aorn, it was breakfast time, just as the officer had predicted, and Garret was starved.



Aorn was a small hub on Aborea Prime. It linked many of the settlements in the area to the Skydock in Cratar, Aborea’s interplanetary port and main source of supplies. Because Aborea was a frontier planet, much of the world’s economy relied on its baernwood trade, a rare wood only found in large quantities on Aborea.

Garret abandoned his vehicle in a parking garage, knowing it would be found in the middle of the jungle mysteriously torched in two days tops. He went into a nearby restaurant and ordered a large breakfast. While chewing on his food, he watched a holovid to update himself on what was happening with the galaxy. Of course the Arcadians were pushing on the Rebels, but the rebels still held all of their key planets. The whole process bored Garret. The only good thing about this war was that he was getting paid a mint for each job he did.

Garret finished his food, tipped the waitress and left. He went to the shuttle depot, where he would be able to book passage to Cratar. Unfortunately, he had missed the morning shuttle, and would have to wait until the evening for it to return. Now all he had to do was wait.

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

Interesting. I kinda got lost once in a while, and why in the world would a trained soldier drop their gun in favor of a fist fight? I like yer version of a Bandersnatch. SOunds cuddly :P Kidding, but seriously, I think you did a good job with the visuals. I could totaly see everything happening. I think your main character is cold, but I like that! Can't wait to find out who that guy was, and what other creatures will ooze out of your mind into print!

Good writing, and good luck!

[Midnight]

Hello, I know you already know my thoughts on this story but I thought I'd comment anyway.

But YES! Garret is kickass and how unfortunate that his partner will not make it to chapter 2. They could have been great together. (You already know what I mean XD ) I eagerly await further chapters to see what adventures Garret will have. :tu2:

[Thunderbird]

Excellent writing from a new author on IF! Evocative imagery, nice paragraph spacing... you've done something like this before and bring some know how to the table for sure.

Anyhow, I'm liking it so far but would love if you could give us some decision points and make it a storygame!

[UndeadCowboy]

Thanks everyone for the warm welcome, and also thanks for the reviews!

Reviews are very important to me, not just because they tell me what I did right, but also what I did wrong. I look forward to making this story better with all of your help.

I will post the second chapter very soon, so watch this space. :)

[Vishal Muralidharan]

I thought I should have done this earlier, but... better late than never! Here goes!

Firstly, I'll tell you that it was entertaining, and I agree with everyone else on what they said, it was very well written. But here's what I think you should avoid... (this is just me, I guess)....

Quote: “Hey, it looks like the cliff continues under the tree line, then rises again at about 30 degrees right,” Davin indicated a rise about a kilometre distant, “I’ll set up over there, then we can get a decent crossfire on the camp.”


Humans can't measure about 30 degrees or about a kilometre just by looking. There was, also, no device mentioned. Relative description is better, but I can't sort it out in this situation, so it passes.

That's all! As TBird said, I would love to see a SG on this concept. Great writing, looking forward to the next chapter!!!

[UndeadCowboy]

Hmm yeah I see what you mean about that Vishal. Ignorance on my part, mainly.

What I meant to do was give a vague description on where the ledge was, like how people use the numbers on a clock to describe a direction. Actually, I'll change that now, thanks for pointing it out!

[Chinaren]

Hey Uncow. Happened to be passing by and thought I'd check out the newbie.

Not a bad start, but it came across as a little bit 'clean' for my tastes. I mean, these guys are hard bitten fightin' men, apparently, but they say...

Quote: “Geez, this planet’s a nightmare!

Geez! Seriously? :lol:

Anyway, I agree with the other comment about the two dropping their guns, and frankly, if they're that close with guns, why aren't they firing them?

With a little more care this will be a good tale.

Keep it coming!

[Guest]

Ah... chinaren only likes reading blood, death and comedy... Add something that you think is funny in a tale. plus I've seen worse writing and I don't think your writing is that different from people in the cityofif world rather than a book I don't understand. Your writing is simple and easy to read. Have you ever read, " (otherside of)behind the blue mountain" Its a western but they joke about werewolves in the story to bring a scare to any westerners living close to the woods. If these people are tough, dropping guns wouldn't be the most obvious choice. I'd undestand if they dropped the gun becuase of a woman somewhere in their line of fire. But still its your story and its the way you see it. So don't change anything the action will flood into your story and the suspense even more.

[UndeadCowboy]

Hi everyone!

First off, Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, your comments are appreciated and have been taken into account for future chapters.

Split, you bring up an excellent point about dropping the guns. The issue was that I tried to write these soldiers as fresh recruits with little to no training in the field, the reason why they were given a shift on a backwater planet like Aborea. Even so, I agree that it was an incredibly dumb move.

Here is the second chapter. It's introducing a new character, so it's not quite as action-packed as the first one. As before, I encourage everyone to leave feedback, good or bad.

----

Chapter Two
The Child


Aborea Prime
Aorn

“All of the children will stand!” the ward shouted.

Every child in the hall jumped to their feet, terrified of defying the ward’s orders. The ward was a huge man, his immense bulk only shadowed by his terrible temper. He would mercilessly beat any child who defied him.

“Jerry-can!” the ward shouted at the one child who hadn’t stood, a lanky boy with light brown hair, “Are you paraplegic?”

“No,” Jerome replied in irritation, he hated the ward’s nickname for him.

He continued to stir his spoon in his empty bowl lazily. Here comes the storm he thought.

“Well then why aren’t you standing?” the ward screamed in his face, spittle landing on his nose and cheeks.

“Because I’m sick of your shit!” Jerome screamed back even louder, standing so his eyes were even with the ward's.

The children gasped and murmured amongst themselves. No one said a bad word in front of the ward.

“Oh boy, you make it too easy for me,” the ward smiled like a toad, “Latrine duty. Now.”

“You can’t make me do this! I’m legally an adult!” Jerome shouted, outrage filling his features as he slammed his fist on the table.

“Not for another twelve hours you aren’t. And those are twelve hours I will savour.”

Jerome stormed out of the cafeteria, yelling obscenities as he went. The ward turned to the amazed faces of the children.

“I don’t remember allowing you to talk!” He shouted as the children’s whispers died, “Get your damn breakfast now!”

“Stupid ward, making me wash latrines,” Jerome mumbled as he plunged a particularly bad toilet, holding his breath so he wouldn’t inhale the horrid stench, “I’m an adult in eleven hours, he can’t do this.”

Jerome took another two hours to finish cleaning, murmuring angrily as he went. Just as he was wiping down the sinks, the ward came in. He walked into a stall, did his business and left saying, “You missed one, Jerry-Can.”

“Screw this! I’m gone!” Jerome shouted at the abandoned stall.

Jerome ran to his room and gathered his belongings. He packed a change of clothes and a trinket box he had kept since he was very small. As much as he hated the ward, he knew how to keep clothes well. The box was precious to him because it was the only thing his parents had left for him. He attempted to open the box again. Once more, it held fast against his long, thin fingers. He sighed as he put the clothes and the box into a satchel he’d stolen from the supply room a few weeks ago. Jerome looked once more upon his room, his sanctuary, his hell for as long as he had remembered. He climbed out the window and was gone.

About half an hour later, Jerome arrived at the shuttle station. He walked into the large building in awe. The shuttle station was one of the largest buildings in Aorn, which wasn’t very hard. The station was actually a complex of food courts, newsstands and souvenir shops, allowing visitors and locals to get most of their needs from the one location. Jerome approached the nearest information booth, where the serviceman directed him to the ticket booth. As Jerome approached the booth, he noticed that the attendant was a girl a few years older than he was. Woman, Jerome, she’s a woman, not a girl Jerome chastised himself. He noticed she was reading a magazine and had her feet on the booth desk.

“Excuse me ma’am? May I have a ticket to get to Cratar?” Jerome asked the attendant, attempting to clear his throat, but ending up choking and coughing.

The attendant gave him a strange look as she eyed him up and down, “You got money?”

“Err… No I don’t,” Jerome muttered, blushing under her gaze.

“No money, no ticket. Those are the rules,” the attendant said, leaning back into her chair.

A despaired look crossed Jerome’s face and he asked, “How much do I need?”

“You need twelve chits,” the attendant said in a flat voice, refocusing on her magazine.

“Okay, thank you,” Jerome stuttered as he turned to leave.

“Whatever,” the attendant muttered as she turned the page.

Jerome wandered the station, feeling defeated. Where was he going to get twelve chits from? As he continued down the main walk, a man called him over from a nearby newsstand.

“Hey, kid! Got a minute?” The man said, looking flustered.

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” Jerome asked, curious.

“Well, I’m the owner of this stand, see,” The man said, indicating the stall behind him, “And I’ve got a couple of crates of news holovids to move from shipping. Unfortunately, I injured my back trying to carry one of the crates over here. Anyway, you looked like a strong, young lad, so I was wondering if you’d get them? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Okay, sir, just point me in the right direction and you’ll have those boxes in no time!” Jerome said, stretching his lithe body.

“Thank you so much!” the owner said as he hobbled towards the station platform, “This way, there’s quite a few because we only get updates every week.”

Jerome followed the man onto the platform. He saw a large pile of crates stacked up at the end of the platform, each stamped with the Galactic News logo.

“Here they are,” the man said patting one at about shoulder height, “Think you can handle it? I pay well. How about fifteen chits if you can get them all inside in two hours. That’s when I open, so it’d be better if you could get them in before then. If you get them done quickly, I might also throw in a little more for your trouble.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” Jerome said as he crouched to pick up one of the boxes.

An hour and a half later, Jerome stacked the last crate inside the deceptively large newsstand.

“Good job, kid, here’s fifteen chits, as promised,” The owner said tossing him some notes, “And here’s your bonus, you look like you could use it.”

He tossed a bottle of soft drink to Jerome, who deftly caught it, “Thanks sir!”

“No thank you, kid! You have no idea how you saved me just now” The owner smiled at Jerome as he started unpacking the holovids, “Next time you come through here, come see me. I might have a job for you.”

“Catch you later!” Jerome waved as he headed for the ticket booth.

Jerome returned to the ticket booth, where the booth attendant hadn’t appeared to have moved from since he was here last.

As he reached for a ticket, she smiled and leant forward. “Hey, how old are you?” she asked twirling a loose strand of hair and smiling.

“Umm... fifteen,” Jerome muttered as he blushed deeply, flustered by how forward she was, “Why do you want to know?”

She leant closer, and whispered into his ear, “For the ticket, tough guy. You have to be sixteen or over to ride the shuttle.”

She burst into laughter as Jerome flushed an even deeper shade of red than he already was, she winked as she said, “You need a parent or guardian to get on the shuttle. Sorry kid, but you can’t handle this ride.”

“But I’m sixteen in five-and-a-half hours!” Jerome exclaimed, “Surely that has to count for something!”

“Shuttle comes in two,” she replied apologetically, “Sorry kid, I guess you’ll have to wait until next week.”

“Just a second,” a man shorter and much more muscled than Jerome butted in, “This kid’s under my charge. Can’t you give him the ticket?”

“Um, I guess so, if he’s yours,” The attendant said as she pulled a ticket off the reel, “Twelve chits please.”

As Jerome reached into his pocket, the man put twelve chits on the table, “Here you go. Let’s go kid.”

After they left earshot of the attendant, the Jerome turned to the man, “Thanks for paying for the ticket, but I have the money for it.”

“Don’t mention it,” the man said as he went to sit on a bench, “You’ll probably need those chits to get a transport out of here.”

“Thanks again,” Jerome said as he offered his hand, “My name’s Jerome, and I owe you one.”

“Garret Firth,” the man replied shaking Jerome’s hand, “Got a last name, Jerome?”

“No, I’m an orphan,” Jerome said as he sat down next to Garret.

“Well you’ll need a last name if you ever want to get off this rock,” Garret said as he stretched his mass out on his half of the bench, “If only to get past customs. Just make one up.”

“Well I don’t know,” Jerome said as he tried to think, “I mean, I don’t know how a last name would suit me. I’ve always been just Jerome.”

“Well, most of the guys I know just use one of their personal qualities as a last name,” Garret grinned, “Like Barry Big-arms.”

“You really know a guy named Barry Big-arms?” Jerome asked, incredulous.

“Nope, just an example,” Garret laughed as he turned to Jerome, “Let’s see. You’re pretty skinny, so you could be Jerome Bones.”

“Bones? What if I'm not skinny in ten years?” Jerome shot back.

Garret laughed again, “Good point. How about Azure?”

“Azure?”

“Yeah, Azure,” Garret replied, “You have pale blue eyes, Kind of like the sky on Fenrir or Libanos.”

“Wow, there are other coloured skies to red?” Jerome was awestruck, “I mean, I know other planets are different, but different skies?”

“Well, you have a lot to learn about other planets,” Garret said leaning deeper into the chair.

“Jerome Azure,” Jerome said, more to himself than to Garret, “I like it.”

“Good, then it’s settled, you are now Jerome Azure. The shuttle should be here soon,” Garret stifled a yawn, “Well I haven’t slept since two nights ago, so I’ll have a quick nap. Wake me when the shuttle gets here.”

[Midnight]

DADY! I am digging Jeromes innocence towards women. But then again, he has spent most of his life in an orphanage so what can you do. I can't really say much as you already know my reviews...

So... I shall just say good job, I eagerly await the next chapter.
(I seem to be saying eagerly await a lot tonight. :D )

[Guest]

Whoo great chapter! Got time to read it! Atleast I did something postive today, read a part of a book and read your story. Then I need to read heavy metal. I like your story. Well I wasn't calling your idea stupid of dropping the guns, I just said it was a move that wouldn't be picked first, so it sets your story aside from others... :?

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Good stuff. This was very well written, and I did enjoy reading through it!

But, something I just have to point out. This always happens to me when I write, but the surroundings have to be described, so that we the readers focus more on what's happening in the story rather than imagining the surroundings. When you give us what it looks like, you do that bit of thinking for us, and keep us interested in the story.

Every PLACE in this story needs description, most notably the first part of the chapter. It is something you will get sorted out with practice. I, for one, still struggle with my descriptions, but it will work out fine.

The plot looks quite solid though, and it was a pleasure to read this one. Looking forward to more!!! :D :D

[Thunderbird]

I really didn't find anything to constructively criticize in there, which is pretty unusual really. I liked this. Nice early pace and character introduction. I wish it were that easy to find employment though ;)

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

Definetly a fun read. I have to wonder about Garret's intentions. *Lests mind wander* I'd have to say this needs a lil work. I agree with Vishal-lun about the descriptivness of the surroundings. We don't need a paragraph description or anything, just...have him look around, make mental notes of what he sees. Work the area into natural human observation.

I also think you could do a lil fleshing out of the character himself. Get inside his mind. Show a lil of what he's thinking. Boys arn't automaticaly shy around girls. It normaly comes from a bad experience, or the way they were brought up to think about girls. And, after stating that the Ward would beat anyone who missbehaved, then letting out hero off with just latrine duty, makes it all a bit confusing.

Over all, I like the story. Could use a lil more meat, but it's shaping up to be a good tale. Keep up the good work!

[UndeadCowboy]

Okay first I need to thank everyone who took the time to review, it's really helping me get better at writing. Very glad my story has been well recieved, and I'm trying to get my mind in order to review everyone's stories.

Alright, now to alleviate some concerns. :D

Vishal, that is an excellent tip, and I'm going to go through the chapters I've done and review them to see if I have indeed done this.

Pope, I do think latrine duty is light, but it's still more drawn out than a beating. This is to get across the point that the ward wants to draw out Jerome's punishment over his last twelve hours.

I think the main problem is, as has already been mentioned, not enough description of the building and situation. To be blunt, the orphanage is as close to poverty as you can get without actually being homeless. I think Oliver Twist was a big inspiration for it.

Jerome is shy only because he is at the age where he is beginning to notice women and their charms. This will wear off as he grows through his experiences.

I hope this covers everything suitably, but I am not annoyed at people pointing out plot holes. Just makes me more eager to get the next chapter fixed and ready to go.

Good day, or night, depending on your longitude, and keep being awesome Ifians. :D

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Hello? I'd really like to see this continuing. Don't leave us out now!!!

[Midnight]

Heya, I'd just like to tell everyone that DADY is currently away at the moment and has no internet connection.
He'll be back around next week and he'll be sure to post the next chapter then. :D

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Uh, Okay! We'll wait! :)

[UndeadCowboy]

Okay everyone, first of all, apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. Uni just started and things have been pretty hectic since. I this chapter is a late addition, and will definitely need some fine tuning. I promise a bit of action and a new character in the next chapter, and things will start to pick up too.

And with no further ado, here's the chapter!

----

Chapter Three
A New Port

Aborea Prime
Cratar Skydock

Jerome emerged from the shuttle bleary-eyed and yawning. The trip had taken approximately twelve hours, as Aorn was half a planet away from Cratar. Jerome immediately forgot his grogginess when he saw the Skydock, however. Cratar was a far cry from the semi-rural town that was Aorn. It was a massive city, the planetary capitol in fact. It was the largest city Jerome had ever seen. There were industrial buildings in the distance, as well as many commercial complexes. The streets were wide and well maintained and buildings were everywhere. One thing towered above all, however. The Skydock was a man-made marvel. It was a massive building, spanning several city blocks and dwarfing all of the buildings around it. Its peak was extended well into the middle atmosphere to allow low orbit ships to stop for fuel and repairs when necessary. The building not only included docks, however. It also included hotels, bars, repair shops, and hospitals. Basically, ship workers didn’t need to leave the building to get what they needed. As Aborea was an Empire controlled planet, there was a planet-hopper shuttle installed so that Empire citizens could travel between Empire systems at their leisure.

Jerome turned to Garret and indicated the massive building, “Am I hallucinating?”

“Nope,” Garret said, “That’s the Skydock. I don’t quite get the need for it, but I guess it keeps the spacers away from the locals.”

“Wait, we’re going in there?” Jerome said, incredulous, “But how do you know where to go?”

“I don’t,” Garret said, grinning roguishly, “and besides, you don’t have to go in. I’m not keeping you on a leash or anything.”

“Well I don’t know anything about traveling,” Jerome said plainly, “It’s usually better to travel with someone knowledgeable on the subject.”

“Oh I’m flattered to be your experienced guide, sir,” Garret laughed with a mock bow, “It’s not that hard. Choose a ship and run with it.”

“Oh you’re not getting rid of me so easily,” Jerome smiled as Garret looked the busy street up and down.

“Alright,” Garret said as he rubbed his hands together, “then let’s get to finding a ship. But first we need to get you some new clothes. No one will have you on board with those rags on. Not unless you want to work on a slave ship.”

“Okay,” Jerome said, thinking of the stories he’d heard from others about slaving in the local regions, “Where will we go?”

“Just follow me,” Garret said as he walked through a low alleyway to the left.

Garret led Jerome through tight alleyways and straight to a local tailor. The entryway was small and dank.

“Are you sure I can get some clean clothes here?” Jerome said as he examined the broken windows and boarded up door skeptically.

“Trust me,” Garret said as he pushed open the door, which nearly fell off its hinges, “This guy’s a genius. He made the clothes I’m wearing now. I always get him to make me something whenever I come here.”

“Whatever you say,” Jerome said as he followed.

The tailor’s shop was just as condemned-looking on the inside. The counter was dusty and the carpets were torn at the walls. The only place in the shop which looked clean was the podium in the middle of the room, which was partially surrounded by mirrors.

An old man strode briskly out of a back room, took a glance at Garret, and before a word was said, began measuring up Jerome.

“How much do you have, boy?” the tailor asked briskly as he pulled his measuring tape across Jerome’s chest.

“Fifteen chits,” Jerome replied, slightly unnerved by the tailor’s abrupt manner.

“Hmmm, yes I have something perfect,” the tailor said as he briskly walked back towards the door he had entered from, “Wait here.”

“How did this guy know I was the one who needed clothes?” Jerome asked as he looked around the store.

“Well, there are three reasons,” Garret said, “One, I came in here just two days ago to get these clothes. Two, you’re the one in rags. And three, he’s just that good.”

Jerome laughed as the tailor strode from the back room. He was holding a pair of brown slacks and a light blue collared shirt, as well as a pair of thick leather boots, all of which he handed to Jerome.

Jerome was amazed by how soft the fabric was. He had only had rough clothes made for function. These were prince’s clothes in comparison.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” the tailor said impatiently, “Try them on!”

Jerome came out of the dressing room in the clothes the tailor had given him. They were a perfect fit. The tailor clapped his hands together and made an approving sound. Jerome was pleased, as this was the first time the tailor had shown anything other than impatience.

“Score another for me!” he said with a grin, “Fifteen chits please.”

“Thanks for the clothes,” Jerome said as he handed his chits over.

“No, thank you for your custom!” the tailor said with a smile, “So few people appreciate the talent of a fine tailor, even less so on frontier planets. Not like my friend John here!”

Jerome looked confusedly at Garret, who the tailor was pointing to.
“Just go with it,” Garret whispered to Jerome, “you’d better give him a fake name too.”

The tailor pulled out a dusty book from behind the counter.

“Now this is a real treasure,” he said as he flipped through the fragile pages with care, “My customer record. It contains all of my clients since I started. Some famous names in there, too. Now, what was your name?”

“Nathan… err… Giles,” Jerome lied poorly.

“Nathan Ergiles? I believe I served an Ergiles a few decades ago,” the tailor said, writing the botched name down, “Glad to see your family still has a good taste in clothing. Now, have those clothes provided you with the strength and flexibility you wanted, Mister Smith?”

“Yes, perfect job. Although I did pop a stitch on your doorframe,” Garret smiled as he indicated a part of the sleeve hem which had come loose.

“No problem,” the tailor said, producing a needle and thread, “just stand still and I will fix it.”

Within moments the hem was repaired flawlessly and Garret and Jerome were on their way.

“Time to find a ship,” Garret said as they headed for the Skydock, “I’ll look for a ship. You look for accommodation for the night.”

“So where should I look?” Jerome asked as he looked at the towering blocks of the Skydock’s structure, “Somewhere cheap? Do you want to go to a discreet one?”

“Just look at a few cheaper ones, it’s not too hard,” Garret said, heading for the shipping areas, “Just ask how much for two rooms. Besides, its not like we're assassins or anything. No need to keep a low profile.”

“Alright,” Jerome said as he moved to leave, “I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

Jerome had gotten accommodation; he was actually surprised at how easy it was. All he had to do was say he wanted rooms and they tossed him the two keys. The innkeeper had also told him to be careful, as an important Imperial General had just been assassinated and the hitman was probably looking for a way off planet. He pocketed the keys, thanked the innkeeper, and went outside. He walked down what could only be described as a street to the agreed meeting area. As he walked, Jerome saw a man sitting in the gutter who seemed to be having a bad day. He was mumbling and seemed annoyed about something.

At first, Jerome’s own experiences warned him to be cautious. This could be a drunk or a thief looking for an easy mark. The man, however, appeared to be cursing his own bad luck, and he definitely wasn’t drunk. Jerome decided he would take a chance and approach. He could avoid the man using his own escape skills.

“Excuse me, what’s wrong? Can I help?”

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Awesomeness! :D

I enjoyed this thoroughly. A well written chapter. I observed a good progression in this chapter, from the beginning to the end, and I must say there was no standout part in this chapter. The whole chapter flowed well, and had a consistency to it. Well done!

Now.....

The initial description gave me a strong idea of the surroundings, with all its wide streets and well maintained buildings. I got confused at the sudden appearance of a tight alleyway, with a poorly maintained 'place'. It was confusing, and I almost went back to re-read the description, because I figured that such a place would stand out, and should be mentioned in the first description.

I'm also curious as to Garret's intentions here. He's just been to this place two days ago, then he switches to half a planet away, and gets back here. Seems to be no motive.... SO FAR... ;) (Good job, I want to know more :) )

Also a good first attempt at a dialogue exchange. Personally, it was quite abrupt at times, but very much readable. (I'm being a stickler, right?)

Also, talking to moody strangers wouldn't be your choice when you just realized that there's a dangerous murderer on the loose.

I still enjoyed this chapter. Probably the best of the lot. w2g you! Will wait for the next one!

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

Nice. Indeed an improvement. The driscriptiveness used one his surounding was much better. *Applauds* I must agree at the abrupt speech. Maybe take a few seconds between the resposes with glances, shifting, y'know. Stuff people normalt do when talking. =^.^=

Thisngs seemed to stumble a bit for me. Our hero grew up in an ophanage, correct? I can't see him very comfortable with anything right now. He seems a bit too laid back for a shut-in runaway. And while you improved on describing the surrounds, I find a distinct lack of description when it comes to the charicters actions. Like...When the tailor tells him to try on the cloths, suddenly our hero is walking out of the changing room? I don't know how to put it, but it seems too far.....away from the action. Less from the eyes of an author, and more from the eyes of some guy just watching these things happen

Sorry, I don't mean to bust down. Like you said, you know you need some fleshing. I'm just trying to give you some nudges towards WHAT needs fleshing.....

Another thing, the random coment about an assassin, then a guy mumbling in the gutter......It seems a bit too....either obvious, or foolish... Y'know? I'd hope our hero has at least half a brain.....=^.^= Kidding, I'm sure there's somthing rattling around in there.

So, more discription on actions, and more common sense...and perhaps a but more apropriat character mindsets...That's all I can think of right now!

I look forward to the next chapter. I am most definatly enjoying this thus far!

[Guest]

Ok, one or another day the person is going to run out of money and then Jerome is going to be stuck in that airship fighting or something to stay alive. He'll eventaully end back where he was originally, why not ask the man where he comes from? And what is past? or well that's what I'd do.

[Thunderbird]

This was written nicely for a chapter without much in the way of complications or conflict... keep in mind to try to maintain some tension, even in some of the more mundane scenes.

I may not have spent so much when I had so little and no outright promise of more to come. But otherwise, the flow of the chapter was nice and easy to read and suggests there's some story right around the corner.

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Activity here? The only reason I come online these days while I'm writing my chapter is to see if stories like these have carried on.

COME ON!! :D

[UndeadCowboy]

Sorry for the rediculously long wait! Lots of stuff happend, and when stuff wasn't happening I just didn't have any inspiration to continue. Never fear, though. As an apology, I'll post two chapters today!

Answer Time!
Okay, so the last chapter was a bit contrived. The reason for this is because I actually wrote the last chapter after writing chapter four. This actually shows in the overall quality of the writing in my opinion. I realised that there is a massive discrepancy with what happened to our hero while all of chapter four was going on.

Garret was really only here for the job, but at this point he was really just caught in a moment of altruism. Every one here is giving me excellent ideas to forward his reasons, though.

On to the next chapter!

----

Chapter Four
The Pirate

Aborea Prime
Low Geosynchronous Orbit

“Talk to me, Jones,” Alphonse Graham said as he walked briskly into the dingy cabin of the Blood Moon, a Silver-Class freighter ship.

“The Moon’s holding together, Captain,” Jones said, swivelling his head as he continued to work the switches and levers at the helm, “Only just, though.”

“Okay then. Crew report came back,” Graham said as he leant over Jones’s shoulder to see the various data ports and panels of his ship, “Almost everyone’s dead. Everyone else wants off at the next port.”

“Shit,” Jones swore as he rotated the ship with practiced precision, “Looks like we’ll need more than repairs, eh?”

“Looks like it,” Graham said as he walked over and collapsed into the co-pilot’s chair, “Whose stupid idea was it to knock off that Bartosian raiders’ ship anyway?”

“Um, it was yours,” Jones said hesitatingly.

“That’s right,” Graham recalled his error, “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“You know how you are when you’re in one of those moods!” Jones said dismissively, concentrating on landing preparations, “I didn’t really feel like losing my hand. Still don’t.”

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit, Bill,” Graham smiled wryly, “A finger maybe, but not your hand.”

Jones laughed, “Yeah I guess. Who would operate this baby if I was down a whole hand?”

“I think I could find someone,” Graham said mockingly, “There’s always someone better. How’s the approach?”

“My ass,” Jones laughed as he scanned the screens, “We’re moving into the atmosphere. I’d buckle up if I were you.”

“Yeah I’ll be f-whoa!” Graham exclaimed in surprise as he was lifted out of his chair and dumped onto the floor.

Jones laughed hysterically as the captain tried to clamber into his seat while the ship shuddered through the atmosphere, “Oh captain, after years and years of this, you’d think you’d have learned to buckle up.”

“It’s not that funny,” Graham shouted over the rumbling of the air rushing around the ship.

“Oh but it is,” Jones continued to laugh, “I’ll stop laughing when you start buckling up.”

The Blood Moon continued to shudder and groan as it descended on the Skydock. The ship landed in a relatively empty area of the dock, a lower income dock that freighters and ships could use for free under the right conditions. The crew departed, flinging various curses and small objects at the Moon as they went. Graham and Jones stepped onto the metal floor of the dock.

“Bill, go find us a cheap, reliable, and most of all, discreet repairer,” Graham said as he eyed the plasma burns criss-crossing the outer hull, "Looks like it's mostly minor damage."

“I’ll go find us a new crew,” Graham added as he made his way toward the underside of the Blood Moon.

Jones nodded and moved toward the dock workers who could give him information on local repairers. After checking that the ship was securely attached to the docking plates, Graham turned and left the docks. He walked down the street, looking left and right. When he spotted what he was looking for, he turned to enter. The establishment was a bar. A strong smell of sweat and vomit hung in the air as Graham moved through the well-muscled men and women to the bar. The best way to get a crew together quickly was to go to local bars and hit up the customers. However, going to bars was high risk, especially if the bar you picked just so happened to be the same bar your disgruntled ex-crew decided to visit. Graham sprinted from the bar, closely followed by a drunken mob.

He ducked into alleys and side streets, in and out of buildings, between crowds, but the mob continued to tail him. Eventually, he reached a dead end. Shit, he thought as he turned to face the mob that had cornered him. Time to disappear, Graham thought as he reached into his felt duster and pulled out a small, grey-coloured orb, about the size of a chicken’s egg. He slammed the ball into the ground between his feet, and a thick grey smoke poured out as it broke.

Once the smoke and confusion had spread, Graham punched the nearest drunk, who spun and attacked the man he thought had hit him. Pretty soon the alleyway was a battle zone, nobody could see because the smoke had nowhere to go. Graham slipped between brawlers and was soon sprinting from the alleyway.

Graham continued to wander from bar to bar, but everyone had already heard of the “Great” Captain Alphonse Graham. Many chases occurred, and many angry sailors were avoided. Eventually, as the artificial night descended, Graham dropped to the pavement with a sigh and sat on the curb.

He looked down the crowded street in the direction of the Blood Moon’s dock.

“Well, old girl, looks like this is the end of the line,” he said with a sad smile.

“Excuse me,” a voice said from beside him, “What’s wrong? Can I help?”

“That’s a very good question,” Graham said, looking up at the lanky youth, “Can you procure me a crew by tomorrow? I gotta get off this rock quickly, but, of course, everyone’s already heard of the Great Captain Graham.”

“I don’t know about a whole crew,” the youth said, “But I know that I want to get out too, and I have a friend who might be willing to join.”

Graham thought about it, “It’s a start, I guess. But we’ll need at least two more people to operate the ship properly. I’ll need to meet your friend so I can assess his skills, but in the meantime, you’re a ship-hand. You get your friend and send him to dock 2-C. After that, go find some other people to join.”

“I can do that,” the youth said, offering his hand, “My name’s Jerome Azure, pleased to meet you.”

“Alphonse Graham, captain of the Blood Moon,” Graham said with a crooked grin, “I’ll see you in a while. What’s your friend’s name?”

“Garret Firth,” Jerome said as he pulled Graham to his feet, “Can I call you Al?”

Graham was lucky he was good at poker, or his expression would be incredulous. This scrawny boy was in league with Garret Firth? The mercenary? Of course, this explained the news he’d heard about an assassin trying to get off the planet. He had to make sure of one more thing.

“Be my guest, although most people call me Captain, Graham, or simply sir,” Graham said, patting the dirt from his thick duster, “Say, does your friend know a man named Davin Skysail?”

“Not sure, I only met him yesterday,” Jerome said, fingers absentmindedly reaching for his pocket as he grew suspicious, “Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, he’s an old friend,” Graham assured him, “I heard he was hanging around these parts, and he always talked about a guy he knew called Garret. I just wanted to know if it was the same guy.”

“Ah, of course,” Jerome said, some of his suspicion clearing, “I’ll be at the docks when I have your crew, Al.”

Jerome retreated in the direction he had come from, moving with agility around the crowds.

Nice kid, Graham thought as he walked towards the docks. Hope he’s got the jewels to live on a ship.

[UndeadCowboy]

Here's the next chapter. Enjoy :D

----

Chapter Five
The Blade

Aborea Prime
Cratar Skydock

Charlotte Barnum sat in a dark corner of the bar, away from the main crowd. She eyed the crowd suspiciously as she fingered the hilt of her sword. It was a hand-and-a-half sword made of a classified alloy which made it light as a feather, but almost as strong as a commercial ship hull. Its blade wouldn’t dull even after years of use, provided it was kept in a dry place. The problem with a blade this expensive was that it looked expensive. The scabbard was bound with black leather, studded with rubies and amethysts. The hilt was styled in the same way, and the alloy made the blade as black as pitch.

It wasn’t this that worried Charlotte, as she was confident she could fight off every person in this bar. She was more worried about the people who might recognise the blade and tell the local Royal Outpost about a Blade Maiden they saw in the local tavern. That, she was sure, she couldn’t escape.

As Charlotte scanned the bar once more, she noticed something which didn’t quite fit. This was a bar for local ship owners and baernwood magnates, but here was a scrawny youth in messy clothes slipping between the merchants and rich men. He bumped a young businessman who’d had too much to drink. The man’s drink fell to the floor as he tottered into a wall. The businessman spun drunkenly off the wall and punched the youth in the face, sending him sprawling. The boy was on his feet again in seconds and moved to escape, but the businessman was faster. He swatted the boy, on his back this time. As he stood over the fallen youth, he raised an empty bottle above his head.

Suddenly, the bottle shattered in his hand. He cried in shock as the glass of the bottle cut into his hand. Charlotte stood between the boy and the man, sword drawn.

“I suggest you leave now,” Charlotte said as she levelled her sword at him, “This is the command of a Blade Maiden.”

The bar went deathly quiet as the man stumbled out, cursing and cradling his injured hand. Charlotte dragged the boy outside and dropped him unceremoniously onto the pavement.

“What was that for?” he moaned as he stood up, pinching a broken nose.

“For ruining my cover, that’s what!” She spat back, “Now I have to get off this planet by tomorrow, or I’ll be caught!”

“Hang on a second,” the irritated youth said as he snapped his nose into place with a sickening crack, “Caught by whom?”

Charlotte sighed, “The entire Royal Arcadian Navy, that’s who! You owe me a big favour now!”

“Sorry, miss high-and-mighty,” the boy shot back angrily, “It’s not like I knocked that guy over on purpose!”

“I don’t think you understand the magnitude of our situation,” she said as she looked around the roadway, “When I say the entire Royal Navy, I mean the entire Royal Navy! Do you understand what happens if a Blade Maiden is caught outside their enclave while not on mission? Execution for the Maiden and lifetime imprisonment for anyone she fraternised with.”

“Well I didn’t force you to violate your code, did I?” anger turned to horror as realisation dawned on his face, “Wait, you mean I’m going to be locked up if I’m seen with you!? Why did you even save me if I'm just going to jail anyway?”

“Rule 1 of the Blade Maidens: Always help those in need, even in detriment to yourself,” Charlotte quoted in irritation, “I couldn’t have let you just die, even if I desperately wanted to.”

As Charlotte continued to argue with the youth, the drunk returned with his hand in a rag, a sword in his hand and two friends who also carried swords.

“There she is!” he shouted, “There’s the bitch that attacked me!”

“Damn,” Charlotte swore under her breath, “Boy, do you know how to handle a blade?”

“Don’t call me boy, I’m about the same age as you!” he said, not seeing the men, “My name’s Jerome!”

“Well, Jerome, take this knife and attack those guys over there!” Charlotte said, tossing him the knife and pointing behind him.

Jerome caught the knife and spun to face the men, slight suprise registering, but not slowing him. One swung at him as he dodged, his natural agility allowing him to miss the blade by a fraction of a centimetre. Charlotte charged the men, pulling her sword close to her side, blade turned down. As the first man came within range, she parried his wild swing and slipped between his legs, cutting one off just above the knee as she went. The man cried in pain as he fell to the ground, and Charlotte was already moving on the next man. After blocking his overhead swing by grabbing his wrist, she impaled him and threw him to the floor. Jerome stood frozen in awe at the display as she turned to him.

“Duck!” She yelled as she began to swing her sword.

Jerome complied, and only lost a few hairs while the man behind him lost his weapon and some of his bloody fingers. Charlotte levelled her sword at his throat in much the same manner she had inside the bar.

“I’d run,” she said viciously as the man soiled himself, “and don’t call me a bitch. Ever.”

He turned and ran down the street, with an odd pace because of his soiled pants. Jerome blinked as she sheathed the sword.

“We need to leave this place, that guy will probably be back with soldiers,” Charlotte said as she hastily tied back her auburn hair, “Soldiers have guns, and I don’t do guns. Do you have anywhere to go?”

“Yeah, this way,” Jerome said, still stunned by what he had just seen.

Jerome led her to the docks, pad 2-C, where an old silver-class freighter with faded crimson paint on the hull sat being repaired by a Clar’tuth.

“Al!” Jerome shouted to a blonde-haired man who was talking to another, stockier man, “Looks like we may have a fifth!”

“Make that a sixth,” Al said, indicating the Clar'tuth as he walked over, “Baz here has offered us his expertise as an engineer. In exchange, all he wants is adventure.”

Al looked Charlotte up and down, appraising her.

“Hmm,” Al said, grinning, “You’d make a good cook.”

“Say that again and I’ll gut you,” Charlotte said, anger filling her features, “I am a blade before I am a woman!”

“Whoa, I was kidding! Bill’s the cook aboard this ship” Al said, hands raised in mock-surrender, “She’s got a short fuse Jerome, you sure she’s any good?”

“Trust me, she may be a bit of a…” Jerome trailed off when he saw the murderous look in Charlotte’s eyes, “She’s good.”

“Well, does ‘she’ have a name?” Al asked.

“Erm…”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Barnum. Nice to meet you,” Charlotte said automatically.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Charlotte, I’m Captain Alphonse Graham,” Al introduced himself, “You’ve already met our ship-hand Jerome. Baz is our engineer. He’s the small guy repairing the ship, Bill, the pilot, is that grey-haired bastard over there, our security officer, Garret, is sleeping in the ship, you’ll meet him later.”

Al spread his hands, indicating the ship, “And this, this is Blood Moon. She’s been with me through thick and thin, for the better part of my life, actually. Don’t say anything bad about her or you’re out the airlock, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted, falling into her conditioning.

“Please don’t do that again,” Al said in a disdainful tone, “Makes me feel like I’m running a military operation.”

“Sorry, sir,” Charlotte said as she tried not to salute.

“Well, it looks like the crew’s assembled,” Al said to himself. He turned to Baz, “How are the repairs coming along, Baz?”

“Quite well, actually,” Baz said in a high, musical voice, “Considering the initial damage was primarily external, with minimal engine damage. I think we should be able to take off by sunrise, breakfast time at the latest.”

“Excellent!” Al said, clasping his hands and turning to Jerome, “Since Garret and I already collected supplies while you were gone, we should be good for a fast take-off.”

[PopeAlessandrosXVIII]

Funness. I can see this taking a fun turn from here on. Welcome back by the way!

The sudden change of character point of views threw my hard at fist, but It made more sense as I read. Could use some fleshing out. Still need to work on the more's happening that what's happening thing, y'know? Needs some heart behind those eyes. Like even some mental kicking herself from the Maiden. Or a bit more fear from our hero. Other than some meat, and maybe longer chappys, I think yer still goin' strong!

Keep'em commin'!

[Thunderbird]

Wow... I hadn't realized I'd missed a chapter at some point there. But between the two, you've done a wonderful job. The writing is very solid and enjoyable to read. Love the new characters and the overall direction the tale is heading - pirates on the open... um... outer space! Nice!

Keep it up UC! Loving it so far.

[Vishal Muralidharan]

Awesomeness! :)

This is turning out to be a very fun read. I like what's going on here, and it looks like we're just starting on a fabulous journey. Well done.

Very quick changes of POV could hamper the story, but somehow you managed to keep it alive. It still made a good read, but don't do that again. Makes me feel like Im being very hard on you.

It had quite a bit of action in it, and went just a bit too fast actually. Slow down a bit, not too much. Just a little bit would do, but it certainly had me hooked till the very end.

Nice job! Looking forward to the next one UC!

[Midnight]

Nice job Dady, I am loving Charlotte's character I have a feeling that she may start to poke fun at Jerome's innocence.

Wonder what kind of adventures these guys will have. :D

[UndeadCowboy]

Hey everyone! It's been a while, but I finally got back to the story. I know you've all been waiting for it, and here it is.

Chapter Six
The Departure

Aborea Prime
Cratar Skydock

“Commander,” the Bartosian grunt said in a gravelly voice as he saluted his superior.

“Do you have news of the freighter that attacked us?” the Commander asked as he sat in his high backed chair on the bridge of The Beraleon, a Bartosian cruiser.

“Yes sir. A heavily damaged freighter landed here this morning in dock 2-C, area 545, matching the description we sent out.”

“Good,” the Commander said, “Here are your orders. Send a kill team, composed of four of our elites.”

“Right away, sir. Praise Lord Methulsia!” the grunt chanted as he snapped into a salute and left.

The Commander looked at a view screen as he considered the stupid humans who had attacked his cruiser less than two days ago.

“They will not survive.”

---

Jerome was sitting at the table in the main hold of the Blood Moon, working on his box as usual. He had been unable to sleep, and so here he was. The room was cool, most of the ship was, and while it seemed to be only just holding together, Jerome could definitely see the charm of it.

Tomorrow my new life begins, he thought as he slid a piece on the top of the box for the umpteenth time. He looked up as Charlotte walked into the hold.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she said as she sat down nearby.

“Yeah,” Jerome replied curtly, not taking his attention away from the box, “I thought you’d be polishing that sword or something.”

“Not needed for the type of metal it’s made from,” she said, shifting uncertainly, “Listen, Jerome I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jerome said sarcastically as he put down the box, “I can’t think of a single thing you could be sorry for.”

“Well,” Charlotte raised her voice, standing up, “I was going to say I’m sorry for the way I treated you earlier, but it looks like you’re not mature enough to accept an apology!”

Jerome blinked, “Wait, you were actually going to apologise?”

“I was,” Charlotte spat as she turned to go back to her quarters.

“Wait,” Jerome said, grabbing Charlotte’s arm, but removing it instantly, afraid of her reaction. He replied, “I’m sorry too. That was rude of me.”

Charlotte looked at him for a long moment. Jerome hated when girls did that to him, it made him feel like an inferior life form.

“Why are you blushing?” Charlotte asked quizzically, “It’s not like either one of us is naked.”

To his horror, Jerome noted that his cheeks did feel quite hot. He turned away quickly.

“Well, I don’t know,” Jerome mumbled over his shoulder, “Girls make me awkward.”

“Seriously?” Charlotte laughed, a high and clear sound, “What’s to be awkward about?”

“I said I don’t know!” Jerome snapped as he moved for the exit hatch, grabbing his box as he went.

“Jerome, wait,” Charlotte followed after him, still trying to stifle her laughter, “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never met a person so awkward around others! I mean in court-”

The colour abruptly drained from Charlotte’s face as she realised her error.

“Court?” Jerome caught the error in a heartbeat, “Blade Maidens don’t go to Court. What aren’t you telling me?”

Charlotte was trapped. Blade Maidens were sworn to uphold justice, but were forbidden to leave their temple in the Imperial Palace on Arcadia Prime, except while on mission. Finding no escape, she folded.

“Okay, Jerome,” Charlotte looked desperate as she checked that the other crew members weren’t going to barge in, “I’ll tell you who I am, just swear you won’t tell anyone else.”

“I swear,” Jerome said, made curious with Charlotte’s reaction, “Now tell me.”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, pausing to gather her thoughts, “I’m actually the daughter of a noble of the Arcadian Empire. I’m not a Blade Maiden, but I was given training equivalent to one. I’m a fugitive at the moment, my father is looking for me, but I don’t want to go home. Not yet, anyway.”

Jerome was stricken. Charlotte was a noble? Impossible! Jerome’s mind reeled at the implications. If she was found now, everyone aboard the Blood Moon could be arrested for kidnapping. After all he’d done to get this far!

Charlotte noticed his expression, and grabbed his arm, holding him in place. Her eyes had lost the impassive look they had had before, it was now replaced with pleading.

“Please, just don’t tell anyone! Just forget I said anything!” Charlotte whispered frantically.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Jerome began, “But on one condition.”

“Okay,” Charlotte replied, relief mixed with wariness as she looked at him, “What do you want?”

“Teach me how to fight,” Jerome said sheepishly as he eyed the sword at her side, “I want to learn how to fight instead of being useless all the time.”

“Alright, I’m not sure how good of a teacher I’d be, but I’ll start teaching you after we take off,” Charlotte said, looking anxiously out of the exit hatch, “I can’t teach when I’m worried about something.”

Charlotte abruptly pushed Jerome back into the ship as a shot ricocheted off the hull, “They’ve got guns! Jerome, get Bill to take off!”

Jerome ran to the sleeping quarters and forced his way into Bill’s apartment.

“Bill! Wake up now, we need to take off!” Jerome said, pulling the sheets off Bill’s bed, “Someone’s shooting outside!”

With speed only a true frontier pilot could muster, Bill was up and in the cockpit in moments, “Get everyone ready to go! I’m kicking this baby into high gear!”

Jerome ran back through the ship, waking up every crew member for take-off. After this, he came to the main hold and found Charlotte holding off a pair of Bartosians which managed to get inside before the door closed. The lizard-faced Bartosians each wielded a short blade.

“Jerome, you’ve still got my dagger, use it!” Charlotte called to him.

Jerome pulled the dagger from his belt. He looked at it for a second. Panicking, he threw it at one of the Bartosians. The dagger hit blade-first and buried itself to the hilt in its skull.

“You threw it!?” Charlotte shouted incredulously as she parried a blow from the other Bartosian, “You actually threw it?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Jerome replied as he attempted to pull the dagger from its resting place.

A gunshot rang in the main hold as the other Bartosian’s head exploded. Jerome and Charlotte looked around until they saw Garret standing at the door, his smoking Dragonslayer in hand.

“Come on, Miss Maiden,” He chuckled as he walked further into the room, “I thought you could have taken them both easily.”

“I would have, if you hadn’t come in here with that noisy thing!” Charlotte shouted as she attempted to return hearing to her right ear, “I mean, why would you fire a gun in such a small space?”

“Hey, I was just finishing a fight you seemed to be having trouble with!” Garret said, mock outrage creeping into his features, “Besides, with the repairs Baz did, this thing’s completely bulletproof.”

“So? Its inhabitants aren’t!” Charlotte’s shout changed from one of deafness to one of anger, “You could have hit me or Jerome with the ricochet on that bullet! Seriously, you mercenaries are so reckless.”

“Well at least I’m not a stiff!” Garret said, real anger creeping into his voice this time, “Listen, missy, you may be all high and mighty with your military rank, but I get paid ten times as much as you make in a month for a single job!”

“I’m not against your vocation,” Charlotte said, trying to control her anger, “I only want you to think of your allies before you charge in.”

“Fine, whatever,” Garret said as he turned to leave. He shot a crooked smile at Jerome “Nice shot, kiddo.”

As Jerome continued attempting to release the dagger from the Bartosian’s skull, Charlotte heaved an exasperated sigh, “Let me do that.”

With a hard jerking motion, the blade came free of the Bartosian’s thick skull. Charlotte sheathed the knife after wiping off the thick, black blood on the Bartosian’s clothes. As she reached the doorway, she turned back to face Jerome.

“It was a good shot,” she said as she walked off towards the sleeping quarters, “And about that thing, your first lesson is after we get out of this mess.”

[Midnight]

WOO A NEW CHAPTER!

Lotti being nobility, interesting. One would never have guessed it. I can't wait to see Jerome in training, I predict some hard times ahead. haha

[Vishal Muralidharan]

YES!!! :D Finally!

Although.. Can't read because I haven't got much time. PM me in the weekend if I don't reply here till then. I SO don't wanna miss this!!

[UndeadCowboy]

Haha yeah I am going to try and update more often now. Case of writer's block is finally gone :D

[Vishal Muralidharan]

UndeadCowboy wrote: Haha yeah I am going to try and update more often now. Case of writer's block is finally gone :D

On a personal note, How did you do that?! I could so use the tip now ;)

[UndeadCowboy]

Oh it's really more of a "I have a new Idea for the plot!!!" thing. I honestly have no idea how it happened.

[Vishal Muralidharan]

UndeadCowboy wrote: Oh it's really more of a "I have a new Idea for the plot!!!" thing. I honestly have no idea how it happened.

Awww :( Its okay though. I'm sure I'll get something.

[UndeadCowboy]

Chapter Seven
Star Sailing

Aborea System
Somewhere above Aborea Prime

Bill gunned the thrusters as the Blood Moon broke free of the thick Aborean atmosphere. He heard the sounds of fighting further down the ship, but that wasn’t his concern. Damn it all! He cursed as he saw a Bartosian cruiser floating in orbit. It was the same Bartosian cruiser which the Blood Moon had raided two days earlier.

“Everyone up?” he shouted into the ship-wide intercom, “Good! Baz, get to the engine bay and watch the engine; I don’t want it dying at a time like this.”

“Right away, Jones,” the Clar’tuth’s voice crackled through the intercom.

“Everyone else buckle up!” Bill said as he prepared to activate the Faster Than Light drive, “FTL is a bit rough!”

Al burst into the cockpit as Bill hit the switch to launch the FTL drives. He had a harassed look on his face as he ran to the co-pilot’s chair.

“Bill, you may outrun their main cruiser like this,” Al shouted over the clattering whine as the FTL kicked in, pushing them back against their chairs, “But their fighters will just piggyback the jump and call back to the cruiser!”

“Well then you should get someone on the gun so we can stop that from happening!” Bill shouted back, holding the shaking ship steady.

“That old thing?!” Al swore, “It’s used to stop asteroid collisions! And we haven’t used it before, are you even sure it works?”

“It didn’t work,” Bill said, with a smile, “Until a certain Clar’tuth fixed it, that is. He was telling me about how he boosted the power of the gun, with only a minor power drain. We should be able to make about three shots and still have enough power to land on the nearest planet.”

“Three shots?” Al shouted back, incredulous, “Better have a damn good shooter in mind!”


Garret stirred from sleep quickly, wide awake as he heard the pilot give him his orders. He pulled on his clothes quickly as he exited his quarters. The ship was lurching and whining as he followed the directions to the gun. FTL is engaged, obviously, he thought, as he tried to maintain his balance along the unsteady hallway.

The gun was an old thing, the seat had springs sticking out, the controls were slightly rusted, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. It was obvious it had not seen action in years, and Garret was dubious that it would even work. Still, he climbed into the seat, avoiding a spring, and sighted through the monitor using its simulator program. Surprisingly, the sights were very accurate, and the image was actually crisp, despite a few visual glitches when moving. The Clar’tuth has been busy, he thought as he relaxed, allowing himself a moment to centre himself before the conflict.

The ship vibrated and groaned as it decelerated and the FTLs disengaged. As the monitor flickered to life, Garret could make out a planet, filling most of the screen with orange and blue, with the occasional glimpse of a teal cloud. The planet had a hole through the centre, causing a shadowy spiral of turquoise inside. Garret instantly identified it as Revenant, a planet not far from Aborea, but definitely more populous. His moment of peace was brought to an end as a pair of fighters crackled into existence a short distance away.

“Bartosian Interceptors, 10 o’clock!” he heard Bill’s voice crackle over the intercom, “We only have three shots, make them count!”

“Roger,” Garret responded as he sighted in on his first target.

The fighter flew straight at the smuggler’s vessel, intending to get within firing range and end this dance quickly. A pulse of bright, white energy exploded from Blood Moon’s turret, making the ship groan and causing the lights to flicker. The Interceptor listed as it slowly tore in two. Looks like Baz worked his magic on this after all, Garret thought as he watched the wreckage drifting apart.

The second fighter, hung back a little, wary of the turret’s power. Suddenly, he rushed in, firing off a short volley, scoring the plating on the starboard side of the ship. Garret fired the turret, but the fighter was ready this time. He rolled out of the way, easily avoiding the beam.

Garret cursed as the ship shuddered again, the lighting switching to the subdued red of emergency lights. He calmed himself, sighting his target. The fighter was looping and weaving, intent on avoiding a hit, but at least he was too busy to fire. This gave Garret the time he needed to trace the pattern of the fighter. He fired his final pulse, the monitor flickering as power began to fail. The pulse streaked across the empty space between the two ships, striking directly on the cockpit.

Garret leant back, breathing a sigh of relief as the life-support systems came back on line. He flexed his fingers, suddenly aware of both how hard he had been gripping the control stick, and the thin layer of frost that had built up during the seconds of blackout. He closed his eyes, thankful that he hadn’t needed a fourth shot.

“Okay, next stop, Revenant,” Bill’s voice sounded hollow through the intercom.
Garret closed his eyes and sighed again, grateful for the restored peace.

[Midnight]

I liked this. Loved the battle, though I was expecting a little bit more. I was quite dissapointed when it came to an end so quickly.

Short and sweet chapter, can't wait to read more.