FAN FICT Meteor - Preview

saracen16

Newcomer

12 years ago

Aug 28, 2012, 10:21:55 AM

Hello, all. I am a huge sci-fi fan, particularly of the Dune, Star Trek, Deus Ex, and Mass Effect franchises. I'm also a short-story writer, and am planning on writing my very first fan-fic, for Endless Space. The good thing about the Endless Space universe is that it incorporates so many elements of other sci-fi greats and leaves much room to interpretation and lore (which is something apparently the fans are building up). Find below a preview of this coming short story... called Meteor.

Night falls on Sheratan IV. Whorls of sand waltz and sift between the dunes of the Ruh el Abad desert. Two moons, both in a waxing crescent phase, illuminate the sky, one encompassing the other in a concentric fashion. Sparse clouds scarcely obscure the starlit heavens. A whiff of sensuous aroma from a native flower species wafts through the cool air.

Salira perches atop a rock overlooking the expanse, frowns at the skies, telescope in hand. Her scout ATV sits parked ten meters behind her, several hundred meters from her scout corvette. She glanced at her watch. It is 24 galactic standard hours since her departure from Sheratan III, nearly a day since she received an assignment to observe and record the May Arietidis meteor shower. She sits down, dangles her slender legs over the rock’s edge, swings them to and fro, and taps the rock’s surface with the three fingers of her left hand, telescope in right. She hawks the sky with her large, ovoid eyes.

Let me know what you guys think. I'm in the process of writing the story and will post the complete story in a few weeks' time.

nolan85

Newcomer

nolan85

Newcomer

12 years ago

Aug 29, 2012, 2:37:11 AM

Really like what I am reading. Looking forward to more...

Not looking forward to having to wait a few weeks lol

saracen16

Newcomer

saracen16

Newcomer

12 years ago

Aug 29, 2012, 8:20:00 AM

Thanks, nolan. Here is the remainder that I worked on since last night.

If not for the astronomer in her, Salira thought to herself, she wouldn’t be on this oversized grain of sand. She questions the universe by raising her eyes to the heavens, to which she sees the answers, many of which have pleased her thus far in her career thus far.

The Sophon in her, however, would rather observe this rare occurrence from the relative safety of her laboratory on the lush and tropical world of Sheratan III, located on the slowly expanding frontier of Sophon space. Had it not been for the recent grant she received at the Sheratan Astronomical Institute, she would be stuck in one regardless. The lessons her father and her father’s father passed down to her from the generations of Sophons before her haunt her being: that space, the “final frontier” as dubbed by romantic human vids of old Terra, is a great puzzle whose secrets wait to be explored, uncovered, or exploited. Glory was not attained through the spoils of war every odd century, but through the breakthroughs her species make almost daily.

It comes to no surprise, then, that her species are the most technologically advanced in the Milky Way let alone the charted universe. Hell (if there is such a thing to Salira and her race), technology is almost ubiquitous on the Sophon homeworld that almost every member, young and small, adopted it on some level or other. Investment into research has reached a point where random bits and bytes, of collected data, with the help of supercomputers making use of number theories and data architecture models, self-organize and self-define themselves, formulating hypotheses and even theories without the intervention – a technology limited to the most advanced labs that can afford it.

A spark enters Salira’s peripheral vision from the Eastern sky, then fades. She darts her eyes eastward, only to see the night sky. She waits. What could it have been? A meteor? A ship? What?!

Five minutes pass. Nothing. Salira rubs her left temple, grunts, stares back at the expanse.

The name of the desert before her reverberates through Salira’s mind: Ruh el Abad, “Spirit of Forever”, a name ascribed to it by the Pilgrims, a group of humans who escaped the lecherousness, corruption, and treachery of the United Empire, humanity’s largely unchallenged voice in the stars. The Sophons aided these refugees in their initial expeditions to the ruins of a society that predated almost every known organic and synthetic species in the galaxy, a venture that would refine these humans into the religious mystics that they are today.

Endless, they were called. Perhaps, Salira thinks, that was what the “Spirit of Forever” referred to. She saw no other reason. The other lesser species of the known universe – lesser, for they did not aspire to the same scientific standards that her people did, nor did they possess the tier of their methodical prowess – had many a name for them, but all agree that no other civilization in known galactic history had rivalled the control the Endless had over the stars, the moons, and planets, the advances they made in unlocking the secrets of time and space, and the series of catastrophes that reduced them to a footnote in the annals of galactic history.

The schism that polarized Endless society, the Virtual and the Concrete, have left their indelible marks on the modern galaxy: the Sowers, a race of seemingly benign synthetic caretakers that move planet-by-planet to terraform planets and pave the way for the supposed return of the Endless; the Cravers, a synthetic-organic hybrid of nanomachines and a previously unknown insectoid life-form that form a hive-mind that feeds on any and all that stand before them, a species who are as alien to the notions of “peace” and “treaty” as these ideas are to them; and Dust, a mysterious and precious resource that doubles as both the standard galactic currency and a miniaturized, self-replicating element capable of bestowing almost god-like power to rare individuals who integrate with it and almost instant death to the 90% or so who didn’t.

To the rest of the species in the galaxy, encountering either the Sowers or the Cravers is an inevitability many hope not to see in their lifetimes, yet in spite of recent reports of Craver sightings on the outskirts of the nearby Bharani and Hamal star systems, the fear of missing the meteor shower encompassed Salira’s inquisitive mind more than any danger to her life.. Her species, she believes, are greater for the sacrifice they are willing to make for knowledge. Her father volunteered for a Dust Integration Experiment (a DIE) a few years ago, and came out with barely a body to bury. Since then, success rates of DIE’s have improved by 2%. One of her mother’s old friends died witnessing a supernova several parsecs away from this rock, the data she gathered transmitted to a research station light-years away in the Sirius star system.

Zip.

Another spark! This was more permanent than the previous one, if only a few microseconds more. Salira lifts the telescope to her right eye, zooms in digitally. Zip. A meteor! Eastward, she glances. Zip. Another one! She brings down the telescope, stares at the night sky, mouth gapes in awe. Zip, zip, zip. A rain of stars, coming into view one second, disappearing the next. The digital recorder built-in to her telescope beeps as she raises it, zooming in, zooming out. She smiles, calls her laboratory supervisor via the com-link on her wrist.

“It’s beautiful, Dr. M’zani,” she exclaims.

“Remarkable is what it is,” was the bewildered reply. “I’m getting an excellent feed on my screen. The first observation of the Delta Arietid meteor shower up close!”

“You have to come!”

“I can’t, Salira. I’ve got Zabina’s thesis on my desk for review. She says hello, by the way.”

“Where is she?”

“Maternity leave. She’s expecting in the next few weeks.”

“Right. I remember her husband coming into the lab to beg her to stay at home for the next few weeks. The look on his face was priceless when she refused.”

“Well, you know your elder sister not to miss a day of work, but I had to remind her of the responsibility we have to each other, including her unborn son, a responsibility you will have to uphold one day.”

Salira frowns. “You think I can’t take care of my –“

Bzzz.

That wasn’t a meteor. Bzzz. Salira glances to the distant buzzing sound coming from her left.

“Dr. M’zani, there are no insectoid species on Sheratan IV, right?”

jpwang99

Old Man

-- Jpwang

jpwang99

Old Man

15 200g2g pts

12 years ago

Aug 29, 2012, 1:39:56 PM

O.o

:O

ahhhhhhhh!

Can't wait ^___^

saracen16

Newcomer

saracen16

Newcomer

12 years ago

Aug 30, 2012, 9:00:35 AM

Well, I thought it would take me a few weeks, but I had a lot of time to kill. Here is the completed first draft of METEOR!

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

Salira gulps, finding it difficult to swallow. Three hulking insectoid-like figures jump out of the frigate’s canopy, silhouettes of energy rifles in their arms. “The Cravers are here.”

“They’re… at? Say… ain… you… eaking up, Salira.”

The young astronomer’s heart beats rapidly. “Cravers! Looks like a scout frigate, Dr. M’zina! Dr. M’zina, can you read me?!”

Static.

A glance at the telescope’s video recorder registers 1 minute of recorded information. Not enough! Salira rubs her bald scalp, eyes darting right and left. She reaches for her belt. No pistol! She thinks, doesn’t ponder. No time for pondering. The hulking figures split up, one heading north, another west, the third… south… towards her! But it hasn’t spotted her. Not yet. She straps her scope to her back, scurries to her ATV, panting, sweating, stumbling. She gets there. Pauses. ATV’s make noise. Scout corvette is several hundred meters behind her. She dashes toward the corvette, sits at the pilot seat, scope recorder attached to on-board cameras. She ignites the engines.

The corvette hovers above the sands, prepares to blast into the atmosphere.

Suddenly, klank! Klank! Klank! Plasma rifle bursts. The creatures picked up her scent! The corvette was still picking up speed. To her port side, she can see a Craver in pursuit.

To her starboard side, two! Two minutes.

Damn the Endless, Salira thinks aloud. She looks at the recorder. Just one more minute would gather the data she – no, not her, but her species – needed. A klaxon goes off: “ENGINE FAILURE! ENGINE FAILURE!” She swerves the failing corvette towards the port side, hoping her odds were better being closer to one of those monsters than two. Two minutes and twenty seconds. The altimeter drops several hundred meters. Two minutes and forty seconds. The corvette skids onto the dunes below, cameras still functioning and recording the meteor shower, throwing Salira violently out of her chair. She scrambles for the cargo exit, opens it, lands on the sand below, picking herself up and fleeing from her craft.

Three minutes. Salira does not register the plasma rifle bolt that pierced her heart, nor the burning smell of the flesh that emanated from her back, nor the Annihilator-class dreadnought surrounded by dozens of Predator-class cruisers and Marauder-class destroyers that blackened the northern skies, nor the hulking, salivating monstrosities that sought her flesh.

No. She registers the aroma of the desert flowers of the Ruh el Abad desert of Sheratan IV. Data transmission complete.

jpwang99

Old Man

-- Jpwang