You know what? My writing is poo poo and I'll probably end up with an avatar advertising how much of a loser I am, but gently caress it.
|# ¿ Feb 18, 2014 15:46|
|# ¿ Jun 16, 2019 18:42|
My set - http://lego.wikia.com/wiki/10231_Shuttle_Expedition
My rule - Pachelbel’s Canon in D is important to your story somehow
Approx. 740 Worlds
“Expedition, this is Ground Control. Do you copy?”
Before Patricia could float to the console she passed the starboard viewport. Just like the last three days the view of the stars shining in the distance brought a smile to her face.
I wonder if any will hear us.
“Expedition, acknowledge last transmission.”
Patricia gripped the back of the chair and reached up to flick the comm switch over to “Transmit”.
“Sorry, Ground Control. This is Bell.”
“Expedition, copy. Good morning, Captain Bell. Please update us on the status of your mission.”
“Reynolds here,” said another voice. “I’m just finishing up work on the transmitter now. I think we’ve finally nailed that bass frequency. If this signal hits a radio receiver anywhere, they’ll be hearing Canon in D.”
“Expedition, copy. When complete, join Captain Bell inside and make ready for first transmission.”
Patricia pushed off of the console back in the direction she had come from, leaving Reynolds to relay any further details about the transmitter. She was sure that song would be stuck in her head for weeks. That was the purpose, after all: sending out a transmission with a deliberate, repeated pattern would show someone on the receiving end that it had to have been created by an intelligent being and not random noise. But heck if that same principle didn’t make that song impossible to forget.
As she neared the back half of the ship, the telltale sign of a hatch shutting signaled that Reynolds had finished his tweaks and was ready to begin. Before Patricia could call for him, Reynolds poked his head around the corner and gave her a nod.
“Ready on your signal, Captain.”
Patricia moved herself into the seat in front of the operations board and strapped herself in. She clacked away at the keyboard, bringing up the parameters for finally sending these transmissions off into the void.
“Ground Control, this is Bell,” she said, still typing away. “Coordinates are locked, ready to send first transmission.”
“Expedition, copy. You are cleared.”
Reynolds flipped a couple of switches and the encoded data poured out. It sped away from the ship at the speed of light, cast off into the darkness for someone else to find. He waited in silence for a few seconds, waiting for the final confirmation.
“Ground Control, this is Bell. Transmission one has failed. Feedback zero, signal loss at full.”
Reynolds sighed and started moving toward the main area of the ship. “Is that antenna loose again? I’ll take a quick look outside.”
“Ground Control, this is Bell. Once Reynolds returns we’ll try again. This transmitter has given us a lot of trouble. Maybe next time they can—“
“Captain!” The sudden sharp yell from Reynolds made her jump. “You need to get out here! There’s…it’s huge!”
Bell quickly unfastened her belt and pushed herself hard through the corridor. Reynolds was neither prone to excitement nor lies, so whatever was going on was enough to worry her. As she cleared the corner she could see him at the porthole, his face plastered to the viewport with an expression somewhere between fear and wonder. Before she could reach him the ship rocked violently, pitching down toward the atmosphere and sending Bell flying full force into the console at the front.
When she was finally able to open her eyes, she could only see a field of white below her. The primary instruments indicated a rapid, uncontrolled descent to the surface. The direction finder spun wildly, unsure of where it was and even less sure of where it could be headed.
“Expedition, Ground Control requests immediate response. Radar contact lost. Where are you?”
Bell struggled to get her bearings. “Ground Control, this is Bell. Location unknown. It’s like we were hit by…something, I don’t know. The ship is severely damaged. Stabilizers are non-functional. We are likely in uncontrolled descent with critical impact guaranteed.” After another frantic look at the instruments, she added, “Was that an answer?”
Outside Bell’s viewport, the white haze broke to reveal miles of ocean below.
“Ground Control, we are heading for contact with ocean in ten or twenty.” She shook her head sadly even though no one was around to see it. “We’re not going to make it.”
“Copy. We are sorry, Expedition.”
“Me too, Ground Control. Over.”
She flipped the comm switch back over to “Off” again. Maybe now that song would stop playing.
|# ¿ Feb 23, 2014 07:17|
All I could do was slam my fists and curse under my breath. My window to the world froze, and I had not saved recently.
|# ¿ Feb 25, 2014 01:00|
"My last Thunderdome entry was not good," he declared. Nodding sagely at his monitor, he added, "Might as well put the advice I got to practice. I'm in."
|# ¿ Mar 4, 2014 04:37|
Word Count: Approx 1105
With a sickening squelch, Eolun’s sword carved into his opponent’s body with frightening ease. Time stopped in that moment as the man’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped open in silent horror. His weapon, still held out in front of him ready to strike, slowly fell to the dirt floor of the arena. Before Eolun could see the life leave his body he spun away with a flourish and pulled his sword free. The roar of the crowd quickly became a droning white noise in his ears which was soon overtaken by the sound of a lifeless body hitting the ground and falling still forever.
Before Eolun could react further, he was immediately set upon by a pair of the guards. One grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to relinquish his weapon while the other slammed him to the ground. He knew better than to struggle, but his body would often decide this was the best course of action anyway. His attempts to flail and break free of his captors only resulted in a mouthful of sand and old wounds opening once again.
The crowd suddenly grew quieter. As Eolun attempted to look around he was quickly yanked upright so hard that his feet lifted off the ground. His legs dangled limply beneath him, forcing the guards to support him while turning him back to the entrance of the arena. Raising his head once again he could see Emperor Regus slowly walking toward them. The crowd followed his every movement, eagerly awaiting his next address.
Regus placed a hand under Eolun’s chin and yanked his head up to lock eyes. A twisted smirk crossed Regus’ lips for only a brief moment before he released Eolun’s head and let his chin fall back to his chest. Regus cast a quick glance over the crowd before raising his hands with dramatic flair.
“My subjects!” he boomed, his voice racing toward the back of the stands and echoing off the stone walls. The crowd jumped to their feet and burst out in raucous cheers. “On this day you have seen the last of the savage uprising from the western tribes! Every man has fought, and the champion you see before you is all that remains.” He looked back down at Eolun with a narrowed gaze. With venom in his voice and ice in his eyes, he sneered, “Such is the fate of all who oppose us.”
Eolun lunged forward but was quickly jerked backwards and forced to his knees by his captors.
“Why?” he croaked hoarsely as blood seeped through the corners of his cracked lips. “How many of my kinsmen needed to die in order to prove your point?”
Regus laughed deeply and answered in the most condescending tone he could muster, “As many as you deigned to kill.” He slowly paced around the captive Eolun, his eyes never leaving the once proud man now relegated to submission. With every sentence he uttered his voice grew louder. “We gave you the opportunity to consider our fairest terms. We gave you the opportunity to serve us with dignity. And when you refused our every attempt at diplomacy, we even gave you the opportunity to die like warriors.” As he passed back in front of Eolun’s line of sight he leaned in close and roared, “But when finally given the choice, you chose to turn on each other like dogs!”
Eolun could feel tears of white hot rage starting to form in the corners of his eye. He bit down hard on his tongue, determined not to let his enemy take control of his own emotions.
“We had no choice,” he finally coughed out. “We did what we needed in order to survive!”
“And survive you did,” Regus chuckled sarcastically. He turned back and walked a few steps toward the arena entrance, sweeping his hand across the masses in front of him. “There is no land, no home, no tribe for you to return to. Are you yet ready to consider this one final opportunity to save your nation?”
Eolun swallowed hard in hopes of clearing room for an answer but his throat had closed up tight. Everything they had done up to this point was to ensure that they would survive, that there would be something left of their cities and leaders to carry on the fight. Some might survive, they reasoned. It only took a small seed of dissent to infiltrate their ranks. Soon more of the men were prepared to take up arms against each other in hopes of gaining their own personal freedom. It’s the right thing to do. We do what we have to. What good is it if all of us die?
The memories of the tribe’s conversations flooded back to him. In his weakened state Eolun could only hang his head in shame, remembering how he too had agreed to this debacle. “Maybe that is the good,” he whispered meekly, his voice drowning in the crowd’s revel, “if there is nothing left to save.”
As the guards yanked him back to his feet Eolun once again lurched forward and wrenched his arms free of their grasp. He stumbled forward. His hand reached down and managed to find his sword on the dirt. Even though his legs felt like they would give at any moment he found himself moving toward the Emperor with his weapon held at the ready. Regus had begun to turn toward him as Eolun lifted his sword above his head.
Just as he was ready to bring it down on the Emperor, Eolun felt a searing pain enter his chest right below his ribs, spreading up through his chest and into his lungs. His sword once again clattered uselessly to the ground. Looking down with dread he could see the Emperor’s dagger buried in his ribcage. Blood poured out of the injury and pooled in the dirt below, staining the ground a sickening reddish-black.
Regus forcefully pulled his dagger back, wrenching Eolun’s body with it. Eolun, unable to speak, could only gurgle in pain. Regus stood still with his gaze fixed solely on the terror flooding through Eolun’s eyes. Twisting the dagger very slightly, he hissed, “Then so be it!” and with a powerful kick flung Eolun away from him into the dirt.
As the dust settled and Eolun struggled to stay lucid for just one minute more he could see the body of his former opponent on the ground in front of him. He desperately reached out but his hand fell short. Soon he would join them.
What good is it…if there is nothing left to save?
|# ¿ Mar 9, 2014 23:07|
|# ¿ Mar 10, 2014 19:43|
|# ¿ Jun 16, 2019 18:42|
This is embarrassing but I already have to drop due to work-related reasons. There's no way I'd be able to dedicate the time needed this week.
|# ¿ Mar 11, 2014 14:40|