Below is the first chapter in the space opera mentioned in the last post. Please, feel free to feed back if you wish; bare in mind though that it's just a first draft but nevertheless, I thought it seemed good for a first attempt. Hope it leaves you begging for more :)
Untitled: Chapter 1
Ferdren Ord gulped back the last of his drink. The alcohol swirled in his throat as it descended, tingling against the walls of his gullet. The glass went back down with a thud, spinning as if contemplating the consequences of falling to its side.
Contemplating; that was what Ord was doing in that moment, his large hand propped under his chin, his eyes beaming across the gunmetal bar, slicked with drinks spilt by clumsy patrons, beginning to clean itself with nano-drones. He blocked the commotion from his mind, thinking only of his ship.
He was into his first century, 113 years old, which was nearing middle-age for the Daros System. His caucasian skin was mostly white yet ever so tanned, naturally. His shoulders sat like a small, foil-covered table in his flight suit. Slim-built, his frame was more muscle-bound than puny, though he was not –and nor did he ever claim to be- a warrior, gladiator or any other kind of physical archetype. No, his speciality was flying, far if necessary. He knew everything about the pathways through the galaxy and the various trade routes that the Daros system so depended on. He was one of the best pilots in the system, able to outrun most ships, even those afforded by Intel Corps, the intelligence unit.
He waited for his comrade-in-arms, Hendrick Sunt, his co-pilot who had accompanied him on his last journey. They had only arrived back two hours earlier and didn't have time to change, but God was he thirsty. He liked wearing the suit anyway. He often said that he felt naked without it: A laser-resistant, heatproof GI- (General Interstellar) Flight Suit. It was light against his body, (had to be,) yet warm in the chill of the autumn air.
The moons sat watchfully behind him, illuminated by the large fire on the beach, a cool breeze drifting up from the distant, crashing waves. He turned on his seat to see people clad in swimwear, metallic and flashing, designed with distress protocols and luminous technology that would call for help from lifeguard drones if necessary. People scooped and poured water into large containers, drinking thirstily whilst others held drinks acquired from the bar. Their oceans were saltless on the planet Urz and made for fresh drinking water, contamination resolved by ocean-based facilities.
“Ferdren?” Shouted a voice.
Ord turned around once again to see an identical suit, the mask covering the face. The man deactivated the suit’s helmet, the AR (Augmented Reality) holograms disappearing as his face was revealed. More tanned than Ord and more wrinkled; both men were clean-shaven.
“Hendrick!” Ferdren sounded pleased enough.
“How’ve you been?” Hendrick asked.
“Not received any greetings yet, you’d think being gone for seven months they’d miss us.”
“Oh you know what happens around here. Life moves so fast people don’t have much time to ponder a disappearance.”
“Indeed.” Agreed Ord, taking a sip of his fourth drink, a blend of genetically engineered fruit and natural sweeteners. A very healthy option, as far as alcoholic beverages went.
Sunt collected his own drink, fitting the small tumbler right over his face, drinking thirstily as beads of liquid swam down the sides of his face, dripping to the floor. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
“So,” he coughed, “tell me about this message from Intel Corps.” He leaned with both arms upon the bar’s surface.
“They want to see us, well, me, about a special assignment; they said it might help restore some street cred.”
“Not still bitter about what happened on Whurzite, are you?”
“No, it’s just-“
“I can help you.” Hendrick interrupted.
“It’s not help I’m worried about. They haven’t told me what the job is exactly, only it’s on the other side of the galaxy someplace. They said the voyage would take over a year. Not exactly sure how much longer; only that it's a big job. A 'once-in-a-lifetime opportunity', according to the drone they sent."
"So you've not even met them yet?"
"No, Hendrick, but I'll still pursue it."
"Think about it man, if you commit they'll want you there, it's asking a great deal I'm sure. You might even get killed."
"I know that, thank you. Still, curiosity beckons and I'm sure they'll give me ample room to deny the request. It's not like Intel to be short of agents, is it?" He smiled.
"If you say so," Hendrick looked away and sipped a second drink more slowly, "but still, why do they want you? I mean, it's not like Intel to headhunt."
"That's what I thought." Ord sounded distant now; uncaring as he sipped away and descended into drunkenness.
"Maybe it's an initiation test, finally recognising your talents. They probably want you to join." Hendrick piped up ecstatically, touching Ferdren on the shoulder encouragingly.
"But why? I haven't really been all that relevant in recent years on the interstellar scene."
"But you've got a rare proficiency in flying; great experience. They might want you to retrieve something." Hendrick pondered.
Ferdren knocked back the remaining liquid, paradoxically feeling thirstier as he part-slammed the glass back onto the bar. "Well, if they want me to do anything too dangerous, I'll just tell them 'no'."
A woman with blonde hair clad in a silver swimsuit approached the pair:
"Either of you guys want a Firebomb; only for alcohol aficionados." She chirped in a typical sales-woman voice of ear-piercingly-high pitch.
"No, thankyou, please leave." Ferdren shooed the woman away, trying not to offend her as he broke the sentence into timid chunks.
"You sure." Hendrick chipped in.
"I'm fine."
"Come on, man."
"No Hendrick, I'm fine"
"Just the one, please." Hendrick smiled at the woman, who smiled back with a glinting, perfect smile. He flashed a sour face at Ferdren:
"What's wrong with you. You've not been the same since we got back." He fired the blood-red liquid down his mouth like a water-fall of lava:
"You not been…" He belched "… the fucking same at all." The glass crashed back down on the bar, falling to its side and rolling to the edge, an AG field prevented its fall to the ground. A drone carried the container away.
"I've got other things on my mind." Ferdren was becoming agitated with Hendrick's questions, which soon ceased before Hendrick diverted back to the offer:
"You know I'll be coming to the meeting with you."
"I'm sure you will, I imagine they'll want me to go to this place with somebody else."
"Why's that?"
"The drone's message gave a hint as to the job type, saying it was of 'military significance'."
"Hmmm," Hendrick's facial expression changed to one of deep thought, "you don't suppose it's anything to do with the war do you?"
"What? The war with the Spurzitians."
"Yeah."
"It can't be. Official reports say there's little chance of them succeeding in a full-frontal assault on our closest colony and even if they did, we'd take it back very quickly. We've got the power, the tech, the soldiers and the right reason. We could obliterate them today if we wanted to, but we don't want them dead, only changed."
"Ah yes, the 'reason', most important of any motivation." Hendrick didn't sound as convinced.
"Exactly, they started the war and now they're paying the price. But I think we're pretty reasonable, which is why we don't just kill them outright."
Hendrick nodded, secretly questioning the benevolent nature of the government who, despite their lauding themselves as pacifistic, seemed to enjoy warring with others who didn't share their relaxed ideology and very liberal social nature. Yearning to be the paragons of the galaxy yet acting contrary to prove it.
Hendrick was awoken from his contemplation with Ferdren's announcement:
"I'm going outside. Get some fresh air, maybe a sobering drink."
He walked outside into the darkness, the two lover's moons sitting side-by-side, one a pinkish-red, the other white, nearly touching from the distant perspective but in reality several kilometres apart. People yammered and cheered and danced and laughed as drinks were drank and fire burned on the cold sand. He walked to the coastline and scooped water into his hands, cold across the fleshy bowl. He gulped and wiped excess from his face and continued to stare at the ageing night, the moons and stars glinting in his eyes.
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