Exovarcéôs (On TEMPORARY Hiatus)

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

After reading Revelation Space (by Alastair Reynolds; it's an excellent book), I've decided to completely start over the project. It has the same general plotline, but has what I believe to be a much more effective writing style. I'd post this in the original thread, but it died, so...

 

[spoiler=A Few Random Juicy Details About the Published Version]

•The chapter numerals will be typeset in Alexis Size 40.

•The chapter dates will be typeset in Alexis Size 18.

•The chapter titles will be typeset in Alexis Size 24.

•The body text will be typeset in Chanticleer Roman Size 13.

•The pages are 5.5"x8.5" in size.

•With the above considered, 21 pages are done thus far.

•My illustrator walked out on me, so I need a cover illustrator.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=I (February 12, 2222) Because Every Story Has a Beginning]

 

As we all know, and is blindingly obvious to even the most ignorant of those who do not, every momentous event in history has to begin somewhere, at some time. But one would not expect such an event to begin in the hellish southern portion of the Re'Pliikaro Siapokk, the Ravine of Eternal Drought, on a particularly barren segment of the equally dismal world of Jæïnokr.

 

Screams of pain echoed through the deep caverns in the slave zones of the Re'Pliikaro Siapokk as victims of Jæïnokian conquest toiled endlessly, fruitlessly attempting to produce water from one of the numerous veins in the planet's gaseous core. Sparks crackled as the pain amplifiers wore off — though barbaric, the Jæïnokians were far from primitive. Ominous glows of vivid colors shone up from the bowels of the ravine, caused by the massive laser drills that were even then being used to tunnel into the seemingly endless wall that was the Jæïnokian crust. These glows were dampened by the smoke of the great reactors used to power the enormous devices.'

 

Suddenly — and this was notable both by the desperate workers and the infinitely thirsty Jæïnokians — the screams in one zone of the great canyon were accentuated.

 

A slave child was crying; the thing couldn’t have been more than five or six. Its dull, diminutive beak clicked repeatedly as its lungs worked furiously beneath the tough skin on its chest. Its sickly, hard skin was nearly white, and its three tiny black eyes were shiny with tears. The four whip-like tendrils that hung down from its rectangular head were drooping. Surprisingly, the alien wasn’t crying in pain; its mother had just died.

 

“Shtoni, ki notodas tso!” a creature barked harshly as it stormed towards the area. Shut up, you stupid child! Its three sandy brown legs trotted down the rocks as it descended towards the fallen mother. Its donkey-like head protruded from its armor-plated chest, with a chocolate-brown mane invoking a mule running down its long, thick neck poking out of a slot in its grisly iron helmet. A pair of arms protruded from each side of the neck, tipped with black-clawed, eight-fingered hands that each held a sort of three-buttoned remote. This was a pain-control device, designed to signal electric currents that would jolt slacking slaves. Recognizing the potential danger, the child fell silent.

 

The Jæïnokian checked the body for vital signs, and then put down its remotes. It unpacked a kit from over its shoulder, in full confidence the girl wouldn't make a move at the devices in his presence; Jæïnokians never present empty threats. From inside its kit, it withdrew a pair of syringes and what looked like a miniature metal detector. First, it ran over the body with the 'detector'. It inquisitively flipped up a screen on the handle and apprehensively scanned the results. Lorg òvò malagh. Death by illness. Returning its instruments to the pack, the Jæïnokian tapped something on its wrist. Satisfied with the response, it barked, “Snâti móvnà; cbai Ncaa74-1017.017. Ni snajjnat, natl æn lorgbbæ òvò malagh. Snâti móvnà. Nit snajjnat thyrn lorgbbæ môìth nakll. Snâti móvnà!”

The response was prompt, but unclear and filled with static; they were so far underground that the standard communicators had trouble receiving. The smoke didn't help either, but the message was still comprehensible, at least to a speaker of Jæïnokian. “Nit móvnàit manimk. Nti alfai; nit snajjnat tjhai lorgbbæ nakll. Njitad.”

 

The dead woman's daughter had started to cry again. “Shtoni!” the Jæïnokian warned, raising a pain-control remote threateningly, one of its four opposable thumbs raised and poised to send the charge. The child ceased her crying, instead directing her terrified gaze to the heavens: four more of the stellar barbarians were approaching in flying saucers. They were carrying a large chrome cylinder: a portable solo quarantine.

 

“Oïan vnal fnitsi, tso!” the lizard-like beings ordered. Frightened, the slave girl moved away from her mother obediently, eying the pain controllers apprehensively as the new arrivals landed.

 

The parent had reached full maturity; as a result, she was far more humanoid than her daughter. The whips that hung from the back of her now rounder head were black, as were the venomous spikes that now protruded from her softer, pinker, less ridged skin. Her three eyes were all wide open, as if she had snapped them open to observe some horror and time had suddenly frozen over.

 

“Shnapâttn-kddrek!” the one with the pain buttons ordered, and the rest lowered the quarantine pod. One tapped a button with one if its spindly arms. The others slipped on gloves and picked up the corpse, lowering it into the now open capsule. After this operation was complete, the apparent leader barked, “Móvnà!” The rest picked up the containment pod and trailed after. Once they were out of earshot, the child began to cry again.

 

Even as the Jæïnokians carted away the corpse of the unfortunate slave, not one of them would have denied that they were completely unaware of everything about that death. As the tyke wailed in mourning of a parent's loss, she was completely unaware of everything about that death.

 

They were all completely unaware of the fact that even now, with its only victim dead, the plague was spreading...

 

waiting...

 

and, above all...

 

preparing to kill.

 

 

[spoiler=II (May 23, 2224) Attack & Defense]

Space is absurdly huge. It's so ridiculously massive that even in hyperspace, the temporally warped undercurrent of the universe, intrastellar voyages can take days. Admittedly, interstellar voyages somehow went faster, so it wasn't nearly as hard as it might sound to traverse star systems, typical trade journeys took a month at best. As a result, even the most minimalistic starcraft have enough room for comfortable living quarters, a preset molecular replicator for rations, and a VRC/G-GNCM device for entertainment on the long journey.

 

Joreth Greener, however, was lucky. He and his unit were members of the OGFPA, acronym for the Official Galactic Freighter Protection Agency. The OGFPA was funded by the Galactic Adjudication of Major Empires, and was therefore one of the richest non-military combat employers in the galaxy. Not surprisingly, their escort crafts were exceptionally luxurious.

 

Joreth's comm unit buzzed to life. Checking the CommID, he discovered that Dasad Nagaito, one of his fellow escorts, was attempting to pursue his relentless nagging. Dasad had been pestering him for the entire trip about ship selection. A fan of exotic spices, Dasad was displeased with his replicator's limited options.

Joreth tapped the “deny comm” button. The buzzing was silenced, but it started up again a moment later. Disgruntled, he tapped “block comm;” the noise stopped properly.

 

Bored, Joreth slid the cockpit seat in his Kowar Magristin LE towards the main screen. He tapped a series of buttons on the screen: “Analysis,” then “Diagnostic,” then “Clear,” then “Forward 1.” The screen cut to a view of space outside the ship, viewing from a forward angle.

 

Aside from the usual dust, there was nothing. After checking “Forward 2,” “Left,” “Right,” “Aft 1,” and “Aft 2,” Joreth determined there were no threats to report.

 

His comm started buzzing; this time, it was the trade ship they were escorting. Though it dwarfed the Magristin LE in size, stretching over three hundred meters from nose to tail, it was wholly unarmed, and therefore required protection from bandits, thieves, raiders, and other such outlaws. Dutifully, Joreth buzzed them in.

 

“Escorts, could you check your hyperspace channels?” a voice requested. Obviously, those weren't the real words being spoken by whatever Economic Alliance member was contacting the escorts, but the comm unit had a 256-language translation filter built in, so it wasn't a problem. “Something is coming our way, but you have the F/F codes.”

 

“On it,” Joreth muttered in reply, running his hands through his sandy hair and sighing. This was bad: the contents of the trade ship were reportedly sensitive, so attackers would have every reason to approach. On the other hand, it wasn't unreasonable to think that another escort group was coming; the journey was less than 25% of the way done. Another sequence of button taps: “Main,” “Camera,” “Hyperspace,” “Passive Scan.” A slider appeared, which Joreth slid to 30. A new screen came up, showing a grid and numerous small dots and ovals representing starships. Looking over the results of the scan, Joreth paled, gripping the sides of his chair. A lump caught in his throat. This was bad. Very bad.

There were three cyan dots — himself and his comrades — surrounding a larger oval — the trade ship. The last ship was most unsettling, however: it was a vivid scarlet, universally accepted as a symbol for an enemy. Worse, it was making a huge ripple in the hyperspace continuum for its size, which meant that it was outputting a massive amount of energy. It was either insanely fast or armed to the teeth. Neither characteristic would be good to the freight convoy.

 

Immediately, Joreth began a broadcast to all of the blue dots. “We've got trouble,” he reported. “Some little ship is after us, and it's giving off energy like a supernova. Arm yourselves. It's coming from H156-408,” he added as an afterthought, glancing at the hyperspace coordinates. Simultaneously, the whole convoy threw their levers to return the ships to their native reality. The enemy soon followed.

It was, indeed, a small ship, but its size was no indication of its power. Promptly instigating a scan of the gunship's capabilities, Joreth discovered an unsettling truth regarding the craft.

 

On the one hand, there was his Magristin LE, which resembled two open books placed upside-down atop one another. There were habitable crew chambers where the gaps should have been, and laser cannons were mounted on each side. Though the large ship was agile, and maneuverable, its armament and defense were designed to take on bandits — and the unknown aggressor was definitely not a bandit.

 

The main body of the opposing gunship had a slanted, double-wedge camera plate unpleasantly resembling the cutting edge of a sword viewed head-on. The rest of it had flat sides, but its upper edge curved so uncannily that the whole thing looked rather like some lizard's body. The sides bore two football-shaped pods mounted with additional thrusters for maneuverability. On the front tip of each auxiliary pod was, unmistakably, a laser cannon. The guns were too small and thin to be anything else. However, what really disturbed the escorts was the pair of cannons mounted on an extended strut from the main craft.

 

The electrically refined plasma beam is, like the atomic bomb, an ingenious weapon that probably should never have come into existence, even if it is far less destructive than its more antiquated counterpart. As the name implies, it makes use of the fourth state of matter, plasma, which is found only in stars and lightning bolts, and is always in possession of ludicrously high temperatures. It fires highly pressurized plasma along with a series of positively charged particles out of the emitter, surrounded by a wall of magnetically attracted electrons that keep the beam refined until it strikes the target. It then melts the target on contact. No shield has been developed to deflect it; no matter-based one could possibly exist, so an advanced photon routing device would be necessary to counter it. No such device currently existed.

 

Now, Joreth realized, an ERPB with full rotational capabilities was up against him.

 

Instantly, his mind shifted into an analytical panic mode. The weapon systems of the opposing ship would indubitably consume enough energy that his maneuverability advantage was assured. His opponent's ERPB would nullify that advantage, true. But as his comrades swarmed around the trade ship in a milling panic, Joreth realized it was his only hope.

 

He throttled the ship to its maximum real-space speed and dove below the assailing ship. The Magristin's thrusters were enough to carry it past the first neon green plasma shot, but the HUD's energy reading seriously unnerved the young escort. He was far in over his head; the Magristin was no match for this deadly foe.

 

Joreth came up behind the attacker and began firing his lasers at the ERPB. A plasma shot negated any chance of damage form the blasts, and Joreth was barely able to pull up in time to keep his ship form evaporating. The damage had been done, he added to the long list of grim observations he'd made as he noted the sharp decrease in lower shield integrity.

 

Another flash of green light — this one struck the ship's hull. The emergency airlock crashed into effect as plasma was strewn about the ship. A bit caught Joreth on the arm, while other splashes struck the main screen controls, floor, and replicator. Joreth was now paler than a dwarf star, and he was piloting with one hand, but he was still determined to protect the ship.

 

Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to get away with that. With Joreth out of the way and Dasad and Kikim in a panic, the attacker made quick work of the freighter without even bothering to steal from it. In a mad rage, Joreth pushed after him. Suddenly, his comm activated. The CommID revealed a signature he'd never seen. It was a “Devesis Vide.” Suspicious after the plasma crash, he checked the caller's underlying code. No, he'd never seen a Z535-22F9-9KLA-48WE before. As far as he knew, in fact, there was no code Z. Or was the monitor simply broken beyond legibility? He tentatively punched the receiver, and an unknown voice spoke.

 

“Look, sorry I had to nail your ship,” a cold, demonic, but almost uncaring voice scratched through the receiver. “I've seen Kowar models before; they have emergency airlocks, so I know you're fine.”

 

“Who are you?” Joreth demanded with all the bravado of a doomed soldier.

 

“Devesis Vide, don't you have CommID?” Devesis Vide replied impatiently. It suddenly occurred to Joreth that the voice was cracked enough to belong to a teenager. This made him furious, and he was about to scream a retort into the receiver, but Devesis spoke up again. “Look, that ship was carrying stuff that the universe can't possibly take, so I ditched it.”

 

“And the crew?” Joreth's voice was shaking with indignant rage at Devesis Vide's flippancy towards the raid. “What about them? Do you really think they can survive? Did they deserve to die?!”

 

“I said it can't exist.” His tone was that of someone explaining that one and one made two. “The point is, if any of you escorts come after me, I'll blow your brains out. Dig?”

 

Joreth was furious, especially because he couldn't defy this order to stay back; Devesis Vide was no empty threat. He'd nearly eradicated him without breaking a sweat, and even then, he realized with a pang, had aimed to spare him. He didn't answer. Devesis Vide seemed to take that as a yes, as he canceled communications and entered hyperspace.

 

Frankly desperate, Joreth broadcasted to his friends, “Let's just go home. That guy means big-time business; did you see his guns? The boss will understand.” They didn't hesitate to blast into hyperspace for the three-week journey home.

 

 

[spoiler=III (August 8, 2230): Disturbing Epiphany]

“You can’t be serious,” Wence Manipher groaned in half-disgust, half-desperation. He buried his face in his hands, the single goggle lens clearly visible on his chestnut hair.

 

“I’m not,” the good-humored voice on the other end of the comm line admitted with a laugh. “No, they’re actually ahead of schedule. They’ve got the whole stage set up, and are ready to stream live at 8:08, just as requested.”

 

“Finally!” Manipher straightened, the other circular goggle lens revealed to be covering his left eye. Strangely, it was opaque white, revealing nothing of the hazel eye beneath. “I’ve been waiting months to give this lecture, I must ensure the galaxy knows it’s there!

 

“You’ll get your chance tonight, Wence,” the friendly voice assured the frantic scientist. “You’ll be able to pull out of hyperspace any moment now, I think. It’s not so long to Glass as you might think.”

 

“Perfect!” Wence’s smile was tremendous. “I’ll be there any moment. Over and out.”

 

“Over and out, man, see you there!” the other voice said happily.

 

Manipher jovially moved to the controls of his pill-shaped starcraft, Cypher, and threw the lever to return to the Milky Way galaxy.

 

••

 

“Greetings, assorted inhabitants of the Milky Way,” the young researcher began. “For generations, a legend has been passed down amongst the people of the galaxy. This legend brings scorn now to any who believe it. However, I indeed believe I have located the location of the mythical Kandrath.”

 

He supposed his bold proclamation would merit surprise; Wence couldn’t see from the studio, naturally. Unperturbed, he went on. “For years, astronomers have been puzzled by the star Osplar Iota. Why does it move as it does? It has no planets, but wouldn’t its movement dictate it did?

 

“My proposed solution will reveal the solution to both. Even now, live camera satellites — yes, the same ones that are streaming this broadcast to you now — are orbiting the hidden planet of Osplar Iota.

 

“The Before were warlords, always jealous, envious, and suspicious of one another. The Before who inhabited this hidden planet, should they have, would have wanted to ensure its security. If the Kandrath itself is there, then this need for concealment would only have been bolstered. Since they were more technologically advanced than any civilization that has ever existed, is it really so outlandish to claim that they could somehow use a turbulent, stormy atmosphere as a cloaking device?

 

“Whether the great Kandrath is there or not, the hidden planet exists. Now,” he paused dramatically, “I give you... the hidden planet of Osplar Iota!”

 

Kotaia and Znurai Futharch were utterly riveted by this speech. The latter was tapping the claws on all four of his arms together, looking incredibly pale. The former was deathly quiet, her blank eyes staring directly at Manipher’s projection. They couldn’t afford to miss the secret — after all, they were in real-space to avoid Osplar Iota in the first place.

 

They were aboard a Terrestrial colony ship, which was an immense five hundred thousand meters from nose to tail. The massive ship had life support for 387,490 human passengers, fully functional artificial gravity, and, amazingly, real-space travel capabilities. It was colorfully decorated, a sign that it carried some importance. In this case, that importance would be the siblings.

 

The siblings were Lithali, sentient raptors from the odorous world of Lithal. Lithal were differentiated from humans in their claws, four arms, lack of noses, vivid eyes, and purely carnivorous nature. They were only on the colony ship as a sign of a treaty between the government of Lithal and the Terrestrial interstellar empire.

 

The planet appeared. Znurai nearly fainted.

 

The world did not look pleasant at all. Its entire atmosphere was a toxic purple, with occasional white flashes indicating lightning in the upper atmosphere. It seemed as if anything making contact with the planet would burn.

 

When he reached to grab his older sister’s hands, though, Znurai found she had already left. He dismounted, the holographic presentation of the broadcast disappearing, and walked quickly over to his sister.

 

“..Look... out... the window...” she whispered, scared half to death.

 

There it was — the evil planet described by Wence Manipher.

 

And it was evident the ship was headed straight for it.

 

••

 

“Aw, you gotta be kidding me!” Dasad groaned, slapping his dark face in disbelief.

 

“Yeah. I don’t care how good we are, that place is way out of our league,” Kikim agreed plaintively. His narrow eyes were shut, and his face was paler than usual.

 

“You weren’t too concerned about that last I saw you,” Joreth said suspiciously as he strode into the briefing chamber.

 

“Yo, Joreth?” Dasad was genuinely surprised to see his old friend. “We haven’t been on the job together since ‘24!”

 

“Don’t remind me.” The dutiful freight escort shuddered as he recalled the disturbingly powerful teenager. “Look, Esquay 3 doesn’t look all that great on the outside, either, but look at it.”

 

“One of the most bustling colonies in the galaxy,” Kikim said wistfully, his eyes faraway.

 

“Exactly,” Joreth confirmed definitively. “We're on it, chief. Over and out with this squad.”

 

“Do you think you really mean that?” Dasad said worriedly.

 

“Not at all,” his tall companion replied confidently. Unfortunately, on the inside, he wasn't so sure.

 

••

 

“Osplar Iota-1?” the cold, deep, somewhat hoarse voice said scornfully. “Pathetic. Even I can do better. Priori, Legend, Mirage... Really, Osplar Iota-1... what a stupid name.”

 

It was a Lithali, though he didn't seem much older than twenty. His hair was jet-black and tattered, whipping across into his eyes. The wind-swept plains of Tempest, though excellent as a hiding place, were awful when boarding the Dark Divide. His clothes were the same as usual: black anti-shrapnel Terrestrial standard armor retrofitted with an extra two arms, plus a shoulder-mounted photon router to protect against plasma weapons such as his own. His eyes were strikingly different that those of most Lithali — a vivid amber, radiating with a tyrannical glow.

 

“Well, no matter what the publicized lazy-ass wants to call it,” he growled, “I have to get there first. If he's so ignorant as to know that a colony ship with children aboard is nearby, he hasn't wanted the Kandrath all these years.” He felt with his lower right arm near his belt, passing over one of his four RPIL-Te “arpiltee” pistols and a plasma/frag double impact grenade to find a column of square buttons on his belt. He tapped the second one from the top. A ramp descended from one of the two daughter pods of his craft.

 

After he ascended the craft, he lay a claw on a soft pad next to the door. He stood for a few moments while a set of cameras and sensors concealed in the pad took effect. Then, a soulless, mechanical voice requested tonelessly of him, “State.”

 

His response was two words.

 

“Devesis Vide.”

 

 

[spoiler=Tri-Paragraph Spoiler: IV (August 9, 2230) The Many Journeys to Exovarcéôs]

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Kotaia bellowed, sprinting down one of the myriad corridors of her domestic sphere. "MOVE!!"

 

In a sentence, the ship was going down. Wence Manipher had delivered the announcement of the strange mirage-planet's existence too late, and the captain had only just been able to pull out of hyperspace to avoid skewering the planet and disintegrating the ship's passengers. On the other hand, that's abhbout as far as their good fortune extended. They had pulled out in one of the three rings surrounding the planet, and the 500-kilometer colony ship was nowhere near maneuverable enough to escape major damage; it was a testament to the captain's incredible skill that he had been able to save the bridge and sensor arrays. The thrusters, however, had been struck, so the colony was, in a word, plummeting.

 

At this point, though, the 15-year-old raptor was less alarmed by the coloony's rapid descent than by the behavior of the Terrestrials. From what she had seen of them, only a few were bothering to dash to the escape pods. Most of the passengers were simply grouping together and — unbelievably — standing there. They weren't showing any sign of panic, even fear, they were just standing there, staring off into space as though they were watching some random program in the GammaNet without paying any real attention.

 

 

[Davok]

Wow. That's great! I wonder what Devesis Vide was talking about? Great story, by the way! :D

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

That's the mystery, isn't it? Glad you like it.

[Parting Shot]

Wow, excellent story! This one is even better than the other one :D

 

Can't wait to read more ^_^

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Unbelievably, I actually have more to offer this time (unlike the other one, which was stricken with incredible WRITERS BLOCK). And I definitely agree this is better than before. Looking back, it sucked. >.

[Parting Shot]

Well, I wouldn't necessarily say that the other one sucked, but this one is definitely better :P

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Preview of the next chapter is up. Now, I must retire for the night.

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Bump.

[Parting Shot]

Ooh, I like sneak previews :P

 

Can't wait to read the whole chapter ^_^

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

ANNOUNCEMENT: The next chapter will be out within the next three days. (i.e. spurious disguise for a bump)

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

New chapter is up.

[Parting Shot]

Yay! I've bene waiting for a new chapter for so long :P

 

This just gets better and better. It's such a good story, even better than the first. I can't wait to read more ^_^

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Thank you very much. I'll try to be faster with the next chapter, but... Well, let me put it this way: I'm not compromising quality.

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

BUMP. THIS CHAPTER IS NEW.

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Doesn't anyone like this story except Browarod?

[Parting Shot]

Well, I really, really like it even if no one else does, and I would hate if you gave it up just because nobody else reads it (which I highly doubt). This is one of the best stories I've read on this site, and I would hate to not be able to read anymore of it.

 

Cheers to you ^_^

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Thanks SO much. I definitely won't stop; the promise of MONEHZ is too alluring.

[Parting Shot]

Thanks SO much. I definitely won't stop; the promise of MONEHZ is too alluring.

Lol, well, whatever encourages you to keep going :P

[bury the year]

I'm impressed that someone on here is actually making an original story. Kudos! This, from what I've read of it, rocks!

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Thank you VERY much. It's really good to get praise on this, even if it is just because it's reassuring that I'll get some MONEHZ when I publish it.

 

I'll be on vacation for the next week, so I'll probably spend the whole time dueling, playing football (real football, not the American crap), and writing Exovarcéôs.

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

Bump. I've written the fourth chapter, but it was on a computer sans Internet, so it'll take time to actually post it.

[Kyub]

I like it. It's original, and provides sufficient description to not drop you in the dark.

Favorited, and looking forward to the next chapter. Out of interest, when and where will your book be published?

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

I have no idea when... or where. I was considering self-publication, but then I started wondering if I could get it published otherwise. Of course, I'll need an illustrator before I publish it... >:[ @ fickle illustrator

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

...bump. This is taking a /really/ long time, seeing as I've lost the laptop...

[Guest Supreme Gamesmaster]

The rather extensive tri-paragraph spoiler is up. The rest will come when I get the time.