The following story will grow as I think of it; inspired by events and other stuff in Elite: Dangerous. I don't know where I'm going with this; but, like any story, the best place to start, is at the beginning.
Prologue
Chapter One: Recovery
Prologue
There is hopeful symbolism in the fact
that flags do not wave in a vacuum.
-- Arthur C. Clarke
September 10th, 3303
LHS 3447
Deep Space
The pit of the ship was bathed in the light and heat from the systems primary, two seats separated from the deck caused shadows to dance across the hull as it tumbled slowly end over end to Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major playing through the bridge speakers.
That they continued to function despite a catastrophic failure of all the other modules was both ironic and poignant; this fact wasn't lost on the sole surviving occupant who smiled at the thought of the captain announcing yet another piece from yet another composer.
The pilots eyes fell to the lifeless body of his comrade; impaled to her chair by a piece of debris.
With her empty eyes boring into his he suddenly felt at pang of regret and even guilt that he wouldn't be able to tell her wife what happened to her.
He closed his eyes to avoid the corpse's accusatory stare.
He couldn't see the other members of his crew, partly because he still had his eyes closed but mostly because he didn't want to see them; he knew their fates.
Blackness began to intrude against his awareness.
He welcomed it. Of course, he speculated morosely, nobody wants to hang around waiting to die.
A rumble through his chair, barely felt.
A light off to one side, barely seen.
A crackle through his headset, barely heard.
Outside, a Keelback moves into view; it's lights flooding the pit.
A hand on his shoulder, then another.
Orders being barked.
The pilot is relieved from his chair.
"Anne..", he croaked, reaching for his co-pilot.
"We've got her, Commander. We've got her." A voice spoke gently across the headset.
He protested weakly but he'd lost too much oxygen and death spiraled around him, drawing him closer.
The music changed.
Huh, he thought, Beethoven's "Tempest."
And then darkness enveloped him.
Me to you:
Disclaimer:
that flags do not wave in a vacuum.
-- Arthur C. Clarke
LHS 3447
Deep Space
The pit of the ship was bathed in the light and heat from the systems primary, two seats separated from the deck caused shadows to dance across the hull as it tumbled slowly end over end to Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major playing through the bridge speakers.
That they continued to function despite a catastrophic failure of all the other modules was both ironic and poignant; this fact wasn't lost on the sole surviving occupant who smiled at the thought of the captain announcing yet another piece from yet another composer.
The pilots eyes fell to the lifeless body of his comrade; impaled to her chair by a piece of debris.
With her empty eyes boring into his he suddenly felt at pang of regret and even guilt that he wouldn't be able to tell her wife what happened to her.
He closed his eyes to avoid the corpse's accusatory stare.
He couldn't see the other members of his crew, partly because he still had his eyes closed but mostly because he didn't want to see them; he knew their fates.
Blackness began to intrude against his awareness.
He welcomed it. Of course, he speculated morosely, nobody wants to hang around waiting to die.
A rumble through his chair, barely felt.
A light off to one side, barely seen.
A crackle through his headset, barely heard.
Outside, a Keelback moves into view; it's lights flooding the pit.
A hand on his shoulder, then another.
Orders being barked.
The pilot is relieved from his chair.
"Anne..", he croaked, reaching for his co-pilot.
"We've got her, Commander. We've got her." A voice spoke gently across the headset.
He protested weakly but he'd lost too much oxygen and death spiraled around him, drawing him closer.
The music changed.
Huh, he thought, Beethoven's "Tempest."
And then darkness enveloped him.
Me to you:
Sorry for the delay between posts. Work has stopped me from really even playing.
Here is Chapter 1; normal chapters are quite long so to not keep you idling, I'll keep each one brief.
Thanks!
Here is Chapter 1; normal chapters are quite long so to not keep you idling, I'll keep each one brief.
Thanks!
Disclaimer:
This story will grow as I think of it; inspired by events and other stuff in Elite: Dangerous.
I don't know where I'm going with this just yet, but, like any story, the best place to start, is at the beginning.
For any comments/critique: ED Forum
I don't know where I'm going with this just yet, but, like any story, the best place to start, is at the beginning.
For any comments/critique: ED Forum
Chapter One: Recovery
We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone.
Only through our love and friendship can we create
the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.
-- Orson Welles
September 27th, 3303
LHS 3447
Trevithick Dock
- - - - -
:: TO Commander F. Shaw
:: FROM E. Dorn
:: SUBJECT Thanks
Commander,
I want to thank you for serving by her side; she frequently told me how you would make those long trips into space much more enjoyable for everyone.
She spoke very highly and fondly of you. She looked up to you.
She often mentioned wanting to invite you round to our home.
As a courtesy to Anne, I'd like to extend that invitation. If you ever find yourself in the Sol system, please let me know.
Anne and I have our home on Mars and I'd love to hear more of the stories you both encountered on your travels.
Lastly, the rescue crew told me that despite your wounds, you seemed highly concerned about Anne's body.
Having her body returned to me ensures that I am able to say my proper goodbyes.
Though, if truth be told, I don't know how I'll ever be able to let her go.
Nevertheless, thank you. I can't explain what it means to me.
- Elizabeth
White lights danced across his vision as he finished reading the message. Placing a scared hand against the cool, grey metallic wall to steady himself, Commander Franklin Shaw closed his eyes, giving the new implants time to adjust.
The damage to his body would have been fatal if a rescue boat hadn't arrived, but instead an explosion from a dying ship had shattered his visor and ruptured his cornea, blinding him.
The implants were the only way to restore his vision.
Franklin stumbled across the room to his bedside, and sat down heavily, slightly tearing the stitched wound on his side.
Like a flash, parts of that incident flooded his mind.
An explosion.
Screaming.
Silence.
He opened his eyes, but his vision swam and the room spun. A loud ringing had found it's way into his skull.
Franklin lay down, waiting for it to subside.
The bridge was well lit, and bridge crew moved about with professional purpose.
Franklin reached out and touched a few buttons on the command console as he brought the ship into a stationary orbit around a small moon.
"Anything?," came a voice from behind him.
"Negative, Captain," Anne, his co-pilot, replied beside him, "there's nothing out here."
"No," replied the captain. "They're out there."
Anne gave Franklin a side-long glance, "Who's out here?" She whispered. He shrugged in response.
A single beep from the console.
"Dorn?" The captain asked.
"Checking, ma'am." Anne scrunched up her nose as she analysed the telemetry data. "This can't be right." She said in a low voice as she began to adjust settings to her data.
She turned to address the captain but was cut short as an explosion rocked the bridge.
A piece of debris from the bulkhead had found it's way into Anne's chest, impaling her against her seat; she was dead before anyone could even react.
"Evasive maneuvers!" The captain yelled as she stumbled to her seat.
But Franklin was a step ahead, a lifetime of training had taken over and a hand flew across his console as forced the throttle to maximum power.
Roaring to life, the ship shuddered under the strain of the engines as it launched her forward; but a tearing sound, like metal from metal, suddenly drowned out everything else.
Franklin pulled back on the throttle, but the tearing sound continued.
"Commander? What are you..."
Suddenly the emergency bulkheads slammed shut, and the bridge was plunged into darkness.
"Report!"
"Main power offline. Emergency bridge power holding. No sensor readings from the rest of the ship. I..I think the ship has been torn in two, Captain." Franklin replied.
"What?! How..."
Another explosion rocked the bridge as one of the bulkhead doors was breached; blasting inwards, riddling the bridge crew with shrapnel and debris.
The captain died with a sharp piece of dark metal lodged in the back of her skull. Eyes wide with shock, mouth agape; she slumped forward.
Others had been shredded by the jagged metal that had flown off the bulkhead door and either lay or slumped where they'd been working.
A single terrified scream was replaced by a sickly, wet thud; the sound of a skull being crushed.
Franklin jolted awake; sweat beading his brow, breathing heavy, heart facing. Nausea threatened to take over.
He forced it down and rolled over, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
An artificial lighting system had turned the room dark, simulating a normal Earth day/night cycle that had set the current time at 3:30am.
Standing, he shakily walked to the window and lent his head against it's cold surface. Space soothed him. The endless expanse of darkness punctured by billions of stars.
He had a sudden yearning to be back in a pilots seat but he'd been relieved from his position; pending the outcome of an investigation into what happened. He needed his own ship; but the medical expenses he'd incurred had bled him dry after the military had refused to pay for it.
Perhaps David had one he could loan until he was back on his feet. He decided to head down to the shipyard in the morning.
Pushing himself off the wall, he returned to bed.
Tomorrow he'd be back in the pilot's seat. Tomorrow everything would change.
Commander Franklin Shaw reached over, and turned off the light.
September 16th, 3303
17 days ago
Unknown location
Deep space
- - - - -
The ship ghosted silently through the darkness; green energy-like tendrils eminating from the rear of it's flower-like design.
Behind it, a ship flounded .. torn in two.
Lights flickered.
Then died.
Only through our love and friendship can we create
the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.
-- Orson Welles
LHS 3447
Trevithick Dock
- - - - -
:: TO Commander F. Shaw
:: FROM E. Dorn
:: SUBJECT Thanks
Commander,
I want to thank you for serving by her side; she frequently told me how you would make those long trips into space much more enjoyable for everyone.
She spoke very highly and fondly of you. She looked up to you.
She often mentioned wanting to invite you round to our home.
As a courtesy to Anne, I'd like to extend that invitation. If you ever find yourself in the Sol system, please let me know.
Anne and I have our home on Mars and I'd love to hear more of the stories you both encountered on your travels.
Lastly, the rescue crew told me that despite your wounds, you seemed highly concerned about Anne's body.
Having her body returned to me ensures that I am able to say my proper goodbyes.
Though, if truth be told, I don't know how I'll ever be able to let her go.
Nevertheless, thank you. I can't explain what it means to me.
- Elizabeth
White lights danced across his vision as he finished reading the message. Placing a scared hand against the cool, grey metallic wall to steady himself, Commander Franklin Shaw closed his eyes, giving the new implants time to adjust.
The damage to his body would have been fatal if a rescue boat hadn't arrived, but instead an explosion from a dying ship had shattered his visor and ruptured his cornea, blinding him.
The implants were the only way to restore his vision.
Franklin stumbled across the room to his bedside, and sat down heavily, slightly tearing the stitched wound on his side.
Like a flash, parts of that incident flooded his mind.
An explosion.
Screaming.
Silence.
He opened his eyes, but his vision swam and the room spun. A loud ringing had found it's way into his skull.
Franklin lay down, waiting for it to subside.
The bridge was well lit, and bridge crew moved about with professional purpose.
Franklin reached out and touched a few buttons on the command console as he brought the ship into a stationary orbit around a small moon.
"Anything?," came a voice from behind him.
"Negative, Captain," Anne, his co-pilot, replied beside him, "there's nothing out here."
"No," replied the captain. "They're out there."
Anne gave Franklin a side-long glance, "Who's out here?" She whispered. He shrugged in response.
A single beep from the console.
"Dorn?" The captain asked.
"Checking, ma'am." Anne scrunched up her nose as she analysed the telemetry data. "This can't be right." She said in a low voice as she began to adjust settings to her data.
She turned to address the captain but was cut short as an explosion rocked the bridge.
A piece of debris from the bulkhead had found it's way into Anne's chest, impaling her against her seat; she was dead before anyone could even react.
"Evasive maneuvers!" The captain yelled as she stumbled to her seat.
But Franklin was a step ahead, a lifetime of training had taken over and a hand flew across his console as forced the throttle to maximum power.
Roaring to life, the ship shuddered under the strain of the engines as it launched her forward; but a tearing sound, like metal from metal, suddenly drowned out everything else.
Franklin pulled back on the throttle, but the tearing sound continued.
"Commander? What are you..."
Suddenly the emergency bulkheads slammed shut, and the bridge was plunged into darkness.
"Report!"
"Main power offline. Emergency bridge power holding. No sensor readings from the rest of the ship. I..I think the ship has been torn in two, Captain." Franklin replied.
"What?! How..."
Another explosion rocked the bridge as one of the bulkhead doors was breached; blasting inwards, riddling the bridge crew with shrapnel and debris.
The captain died with a sharp piece of dark metal lodged in the back of her skull. Eyes wide with shock, mouth agape; she slumped forward.
Others had been shredded by the jagged metal that had flown off the bulkhead door and either lay or slumped where they'd been working.
A single terrified scream was replaced by a sickly, wet thud; the sound of a skull being crushed.
Franklin jolted awake; sweat beading his brow, breathing heavy, heart facing. Nausea threatened to take over.
He forced it down and rolled over, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
An artificial lighting system had turned the room dark, simulating a normal Earth day/night cycle that had set the current time at 3:30am.
Standing, he shakily walked to the window and lent his head against it's cold surface. Space soothed him. The endless expanse of darkness punctured by billions of stars.
He had a sudden yearning to be back in a pilots seat but he'd been relieved from his position; pending the outcome of an investigation into what happened. He needed his own ship; but the medical expenses he'd incurred had bled him dry after the military had refused to pay for it.
Perhaps David had one he could loan until he was back on his feet. He decided to head down to the shipyard in the morning.
Pushing himself off the wall, he returned to bed.
Tomorrow he'd be back in the pilot's seat. Tomorrow everything would change.
Commander Franklin Shaw reached over, and turned off the light.
17 days ago
Unknown location
Deep space
- - - - -
The ship ghosted silently through the darkness; green energy-like tendrils eminating from the rear of it's flower-like design.
Behind it, a ship flounded .. torn in two.
Lights flickered.
Then died.
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