Post by Deleted on Aug 7, 2012 4:32:42 GMT -5
I've already introduced myself on another thread, but I'll do so again: I'm a 14 year old from the UK and well, I like writing and I like Star Traders. So here's a little short story I've written inspired by the quadrant.
The starport bustled with activity, throngs of ships lifting up into the crimson sky, their sails drowning the scene in a flood of billowing white. Crates overflowing with spices, plants and vudka sat unattended as sailors in their immaculate uniforms chatted idly on the quayside. In the corner officials stood, inspecting the goods before waving the merchants on towards the crowded trading districts. And at the heart of the scene the Pride of Thulun sat proudly, perched at her berth – poised for lift-off; her massive quad-engines and menacing gun emplacements gleaming threateningly for all to see. Beneath that the…
Plop.
The droplet landed just above the Pride of Thulun’s torpedo launchers. Spido stared at it, transfixed – until the acid began to burn through the tattered parchment. He jumped back and cursed loudly as the book disintegrated in front of him, sizzling softly. Spido groaned, how was he ever going to explain that to the chief scribe? He winced at the thought.
With a sigh he gave the remnants of paper one last forlorn kick and looked up to see the cowering huts of Outer Reach Settlement stretching out before him. Storm clouds brooded over the distant jungles, the sky was overcast – he wouldn’t be able to stay outside for long. From the roof of the shack he could just make out the hunters returning from the jungle before the weather turned. In front of that the Nomadic Market sat half-hidden beneath the great concrete ruin of Liberty Exchange, decades of acidic rainfall scarring the once impressive building.
“I remember sitting up here as a boy,” croaked a voice from behind Spido, “full of hope, when we first arrived on Outer Reach."
Spido spun round, surprised that he was no longer alone. Behind him stooped the bent figure of Head Preacher.
“I sat here and watched as Liberty Exchange rose from the ground,” he said with a brief nod in the direction of the building, “sculpted by the hands of the people… and then I watched as the years went by, the symbol of hope gradually transformed into a ghastly skeleton. No one looked after it – why should it be their responsibility? And then one day people just didn’t bother coming, no one traded, everyone stayed poor and hungry.”
Spido watched closely as the old man talked, his blazing eyes hinting at a man much younger than he appeared.
“Outer Reach was built out of hope – but now I realise that hope is worthless. Outer Reach was to be the Roavin of north… but this place is like acid. It burns people, leaves them scarred, devours their hopes and dreams until there’s nothing left for them.”
They both stood in silence for a moment, and then the gentle pitter-patter of rain interrupted the quiet, the sharp sting of acid on their skin warning that a summer storm was almost upon them.
“There is a spacer in you young lad; I see it in your eyes. Get out of here before it’s too late.”
Spido was on his own again. He looked up at the sky as the flood of billowing black moved towards him. A ray of sunlight broke through the dark clouds momentarily, creating the faintest of rainbows.
Then the acid clouds devoured the sun, and all was dark again on Outer Reach.
Acid
By Jordan Andrews
By Jordan Andrews
The starport bustled with activity, throngs of ships lifting up into the crimson sky, their sails drowning the scene in a flood of billowing white. Crates overflowing with spices, plants and vudka sat unattended as sailors in their immaculate uniforms chatted idly on the quayside. In the corner officials stood, inspecting the goods before waving the merchants on towards the crowded trading districts. And at the heart of the scene the Pride of Thulun sat proudly, perched at her berth – poised for lift-off; her massive quad-engines and menacing gun emplacements gleaming threateningly for all to see. Beneath that the…
Plop.
The droplet landed just above the Pride of Thulun’s torpedo launchers. Spido stared at it, transfixed – until the acid began to burn through the tattered parchment. He jumped back and cursed loudly as the book disintegrated in front of him, sizzling softly. Spido groaned, how was he ever going to explain that to the chief scribe? He winced at the thought.
With a sigh he gave the remnants of paper one last forlorn kick and looked up to see the cowering huts of Outer Reach Settlement stretching out before him. Storm clouds brooded over the distant jungles, the sky was overcast – he wouldn’t be able to stay outside for long. From the roof of the shack he could just make out the hunters returning from the jungle before the weather turned. In front of that the Nomadic Market sat half-hidden beneath the great concrete ruin of Liberty Exchange, decades of acidic rainfall scarring the once impressive building.
“I remember sitting up here as a boy,” croaked a voice from behind Spido, “full of hope, when we first arrived on Outer Reach."
Spido spun round, surprised that he was no longer alone. Behind him stooped the bent figure of Head Preacher.
“I sat here and watched as Liberty Exchange rose from the ground,” he said with a brief nod in the direction of the building, “sculpted by the hands of the people… and then I watched as the years went by, the symbol of hope gradually transformed into a ghastly skeleton. No one looked after it – why should it be their responsibility? And then one day people just didn’t bother coming, no one traded, everyone stayed poor and hungry.”
Spido watched closely as the old man talked, his blazing eyes hinting at a man much younger than he appeared.
“Outer Reach was built out of hope – but now I realise that hope is worthless. Outer Reach was to be the Roavin of north… but this place is like acid. It burns people, leaves them scarred, devours their hopes and dreams until there’s nothing left for them.”
They both stood in silence for a moment, and then the gentle pitter-patter of rain interrupted the quiet, the sharp sting of acid on their skin warning that a summer storm was almost upon them.
“There is a spacer in you young lad; I see it in your eyes. Get out of here before it’s too late.”
Spido was on his own again. He looked up at the sky as the flood of billowing black moved towards him. A ray of sunlight broke through the dark clouds momentarily, creating the faintest of rainbows.
Then the acid clouds devoured the sun, and all was dark again on Outer Reach.
