Shadow of the Empire: Day 06

[aesmael]

Originally published at a denizen's entertainment. You can comment here or there.

Only 3236 words words so far, had a stall the past couple of days. That usually happens to me, few days writing, few days of very little.

Well, it seemed for a while this project might not be novel length after all, but be much shorter. Although it also seemed what I was writing was too abbreviated to be the full story, enough that I had thoughts of finishing early and then expanding on what was written.

Last night had one of those moments of understanding, and realised I had things happening in the wrong order. Was trying to push the characters to follow what was laid out in outline, which was not working well because it went contrary to how they'd been established. Then I realised letting them go the way they were inclined to would get us to the same point, later, without having inconsistent characterisation, with a clearer sense of why their enemy is their enemy (which I'd been worried was getting lost), and getting to showcase some stuff that I was being worried was being inappropriately left out. So that's a very handy detour that'll add quite a lot of word count too.

Sadly, by the time I realised this it was 0300 and I needed to sleep. But now there is today! and... errands. But we'll get there.

As much as I say I hate the story, that it is terrible and in no way worthy of being written, I have read enough by authors to know this is a common sentiment while writing, and enough personal experience to know I feel that way about just about every story I write. So I'm not going to throw it out just because I hate it at the moment. Maybe at some other point, maybe after it is finished, if I think my assessment of its quality is a bit more enduring.

The first part of this story turned out to be more prologue than quarter of the narrative, but here's the end of it. We continue with the writing of the next part, but give 'end of story-part' priority as posting cut-off point over 'how much we wrote today'. So here's that bit, and an image:

"Yes, and when we're down who is going to identify the best spots to drill or operate the remotes for you?"

"I trust you."

"Then you'll want to settle near there, but not on it."

"Watch how close I come."

Smiling, Nawar stepped away from her display to rub her cheek on nearby bulkhead.

* * *

'Landing' happened when Shula brought verself adjacent to the surface, when the tethers burrowed themselves deep and established as firm a grip as was available. At first nothing happened. Algol and Altair still sat opposite each other. Hanifah still was working painstakingly on her broken models. Ferideh was reading a novel. All were nearly still and nearly silent, absobed in their activities.

Then, several minutes later sections of Shula's hull opened and remotes were released. A couple of larger-than-human remote-controlled robots, their mission was to dig into the surface and extract all the usable material they could and patch up Shula. Others crawled out from elsewhere, crawled over the hull. These controlled by Shula and not Nawar were for performing repairs; they'd been doing what they could all the way, but even so when Nawar's remotes achieved some distance and she turned their cameras back to look she gasped dismayed at what she saw.

"Oh my poor darling. Look what they've done to you. This is going to take ages to fix." She ran her hand over the console, back and forth. "We'll get you good as new."

"I do like to think I am better than new. And not so damaged."

"Your shell, then. I'd be bothered if someone shot up my arms."

"You know... " said Shula, every word so careful, "if I had your arms... "

"Yes? If you had my arms... ?"

* * *

Rebuilding the scorched and pocked, ripped and twisted outsides, punctured and burned insides of Shula was not a swift endeavour. The icy speck of debris they had affixed themselves to was massive enough, and had a mix of materials they could work with, but hadn't experienced the sort of refractory environment you got inwards which would have resulted in a higher proportion of what they were after, nor did it have anywhere near the mass needed to sort itself out. The repairs went much slower than if they'd had access to properly processed resources, or even to properly processable resources. They went slower, but they went, and so did the waiting.

Waiting was something the crew had a lot of practice with, being the major occupation of their missions. Board games were always good, and any other group activities they could manage. Time at base was often a period of panicked seeking out the latest material to pass those times when training, study and work were not enough; not only did the space corps protect Zara's mercantile trade, they were also among its greatest consumers.

Nawar was the only one of the crew whose position kept her busy near-continuously, supervising the repair of Shula. The others took shifts but for none of them it was their field of expertise and Nawar would hover fidgeting over them all the while until they were done, or if she were working elsewhere, keeping a darting eye alert to their every action. She slept because Hanifah insisted and because Shula agreed, but felt no obligation to cease working while she ate or recharged.

* * *

"Another week before we can leave, Nawar says. Another week. I'm looking forward to it." Ferideh threw the plush cat she had been tossing to Hanifah, seated on the opposite bunk. "Kitten's a nice enough place to visit, but the view's dull. I've no desire to live here."

"I would hardly call the view dull. Not after all your efforts out there crafting snow... scenes."

Ferideh dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "I had to do something. There's not much else for me to do holed up like this."

"But you didn't have to show that one being garrotted."

"He was a traitor!"

Hanifah opened her mouth, but it was Shula who spoke: "All personnel report to the bridge. Repeat, all personnel report to the bridge".

They shrugged. Hanifah passed the cat back to Ferideh, replaced it on her bunk, and they filed out the door.

Algol and Altair were waiting, looking bewildered. Nawar did not show for almost a minute, re-affixing her right arm as she entered.

"Sorry. Caught me at an awkward moment. What's going on?"

"A few minutes ago we received a transmission from High Command. A very large fleet of Algonthen Warships has forced its way into our system. They ambushed all our major positions before we were able to mount an effective response and... we have surrendered unconditionally. All vessels ordered to stand down, report to nearest Algonthen authority and comply."

Ferideh realised she was staring. She didn't know how to make herself stop.