'Of Future Heroism' - Pt.6 - When courage can be bought...

[silentWitness]

'Of Future Heroism' - Part 6 - When courage can be bought...

I lay on the cold metal floor... the pain coursed through my veins spreading itself across my aching body... I lay there naked and alone... My only thought being that I must die tonight... if it really was night... they had taken everything from me... satisfied every wretched impulse they had... Till I lay broken on the floor... too tired to take my own life... to scared to move... beauty has laid a terrible curse upon me...

I awoke, the floor was reliably uninviting... I must be unlucky... I wasn't dead. Summoning what little courage was left, I lifted my body off the ground... I felt so dirty... so violated... but nothing I felt would matter... atleast not for very long... I tried to get up... but when I reached my feet a throught dawned on me... Why??? I fell to the floor... My mind cleared and I despaired...

Again I was awake... I would have said anything to get them to stop... but they weren't after information... You tell yourself that you wouldn't surrender yourself without a fight... you tell yourself that your self-defence training would protect you... but none of that made a difference... The guards inadequacies, his fumbling attempts towards ecstasy, had dried across my inner thighs... blood and sweat had caked into my knotted hair... I heard the guards boots clanking towards my cell. The door shifted itself open... They sounded disappointed as they dragged me out... My heart jumped for joy! Had the order to execute me come??? I had never felt so much happiness... I didn't care if it was long and slow or quick and painless only that it would mean the end. There was nothing but joy inside me... No fear, no hate... Just joy. They dragged me into a chamber, the holes in the ceiling were fascinating... What a beautiful death they had planned for me... the door sealed shut behind the guards... It was only a matter of time now... Liquid began to spray from the ceiling, the jet was hard... It felt like it was dissolving my skin... I let some trickle into my mouth... This would be it... I swallowed... It was Water... I had been deceived!!! My rage exploded through my lungs... I screamed until my lungs betrayed me... falling silent... I lay on my back gasping for breath... coughing up water... why wouldn't I just die!!! My body continued to defy my wishes...

A door opened... I felt gentle hands around me... their very touch disgusted me... I smelt the heady musk of perfume... They dried me... spreading a powder all over me, to cover the bruises... I felt them slip my bondage around my neck... I looked into their eyes... I saw no consciousness... they were dead inside... The more frightening thing was I felt the same... My fate awaited me at Brennan's Triumph... I'm sure I'll fetch a good price... After all how many other Split-Argon hybrid's are there!!!

The lights burned an evil red hue as I stepped off the gantry... It was not surprised nor disappointed... I was in the Amari Slave Fortress the biggest slave market in the known universe... I had never felt the need to see Brennan's Triumph... The supposed Earth gate in the system held no interest to average Argon citizen... I had to laugh... Not only was I never been an average citizen but I was about to be sold to the highest bidder... We were walked through the promenade... we were eyed like cattle... pieces on meat... We were lead into the auction house... and into the sorting cages... if the walk wasn't degrading enough, auction handlers would ensure that not a shred of decency remained... satisfying the possible bidders wishes by displaying the merchandise thoroughly... I looked out at the interested faces... the handler manipulated my limbs, he displayed my split argon heritage to the fullest potential, but also accentuated the elements that men would appreciate... He must have been a pro... I wondered how much he had been paid to show me... The other handler's didn't seem to be as experienced... There was a sudden crack of a whip and the auction commenced... The lots seemed to drag on... Lot 10283, 13244,1325285... They were batches... sorted by species and grade... Pretty ones, that could be used for prostitution were grade 7, Only the cream of the crop were grade 10... Concubine material... The helpless women were gyrated on the podium by their disinterested handlers... "Cum on ... Pretty pretty... Titties nice on i'ss one!!! We a've a bid fer 2000 creds... cum on... dis is prime real estate ear!!!" The Split auctioneer, aged pirate, his skin a dirty grey from radiation exposure, in fact he scarcely resembled a split at all, goaded the audience on... Lot after lot went dirt cheap... they must be their credits for the star attraction... "Oww... Cum on, 1254 creds is dirt for dis fine piece of ass!!! cum on give us anuvva undred!!!" Finally it was my turn... The podium was high but there was no chance of throwing myself off it... the handler was doing a good job... 1400, 1800, 6000, 12,000... The bidding was furious... Split slave agents, whom bid on behalf private buyers, waved their arms wildly... trying their best to get a bid in... it was like a stock exchange... even the voice of the auctioneer was drowned out by the chaos... suddenly the room went quiet... "so... well then... the bid now stands at wu... one miwlion creds... do we have any advances on... dat!!!" A little hand poked out... "Wat's ya bid?" the agent shouted back "One miwlion and one creds!!!" the mallet struck the anvil with furious enthusiasm... "Sold!"

One million and one credits had been transferred automatically the moment the mallet struck the anvil... I had just been given my value... That's how much my existence was worth... All my memories... my emotions... my body... it all came down to money... I didn't want to think what the commission would be like... I was ushered into a cage... a crane lifted it onto a conveyer and out a tube lead out into the docking bay... I was hoisted towards a scorpion... a modern one, faster than the one Chi'zaia... a sudden realisation hit me... I wept for her... I hoped that she was at peace...

The journey had been long... Pirates rarely have jump drives... this one was no exception... but after me... well I'm sure I'll go a long way towards it's purchase... Suddenly the hydraulics activated... and I was hoisted out onto the deck... I didn't recognise the stations interior but it was obviously of split origin... A guard opened the cage door and firmly dragged me out into the corridor... Concubines are neither seen nor heard... I was a simple slave... no one was going to help me now... I was brought into a large chamber... the lights were dim... the station owner sat at his desk... it was ornately carved, the work of Paranid engravers, he held the globular glass of a hardened space fuel drinker... His hand waved the guard away... He whispered to me in argon, his voice slightly echo in the cavernous room "I paid a pretty credit for you..." I said nothing. "From the moment I saw you I..." He raised his voice in emotion... suddenly I recognised his voice... I glanced up at his face... It was the navigator... his face was full of lust... it was quite obvious that he was not my saviour... He was my owner...

Something clicked inside... something switched off... I stood there... he was saying something to me... He was a traitor... He's talking to me... now he's getting angry... I can see the anger in his face... he's taking something from his desk... a controller... My collar vibrates... I turn my head and look at his sideways... he's getting more and more frantic... the collar is vibrating I can feel it now... he looks very frantic... My legs begin to move towards him... he's moving backwards... I keep moving forward... he's waving his arms now... he looks worried... his neck snaps like a brittle twig... his body goes limp... I slip into bed suddenly overcome by tiredness... I awake... feeling very refreshed... if a little sore... the guard sits in a chair... "Ghinn t' Niquar?" I nod... he steps over the battered body of his employer and sits on the bed... "you leave now..." he offers me his hand and lifts me off the bed... "Chin dead... Ronkar now Chin... but we not Ronkar... not yet..." he carries me in his strong hands... soon we are stepping into the cargobay... a small ship waits there... not a wolf... but something similar...

As he straps me in an alarm goes off... he hops into he pilot seat, pulling the canopy down with him... a few buttons and the atmosphere in the docking bay empties out... "Jagwar you surrender now!!!" my pilot wasn't about to do that... I felt the engines bursting into life rocketing us out of the docking clamps... the lasers burst into life and the stations outer doors were gone... we shot out into space... I immediately recognised the surroundings... the reddish nebula with asteroids spread through it... it was my sector... but now family Rhy held it as their own... we burst forward... through the sector defences... I watch as the gravidar floods with red... Our ship jinx wildly... a small attack fleet has been alerted to our presence... We shot through the east gate and into the Teladi sectors... persuaded by a squadron of Mamba... their lasers blasting at our engine trail...

I check the pocket in the front seat... My clothes and neckless... The Paranid data disk... was this coincidence... We fly through the next gate... The Mambas in hot pursuit... The engines were vibrating violently through the bulkhead... a few more hits and wer weren't going to see the next gate... A wasp missile closed slowly with our engine... slowly edging closer... I closed my eyes... I felt the jolt as it hit turning the engines into mere debris... We silently drift toward the north gate... the Mambas closing quickly... but then the gate pulls us in... I feel the ship shake as we shoot throught the wormhole of the gate... opening my eyes as we are hurled into Trinity sanctum... We had reached the Paranid now if only they would listen... I jam the ancient disk into the reader... it spins up with a screaming whine.. I switch it to transmit and hope there is something on it that might be something important to the Paranid... A Mamba has come through the gate... It turn away from us... making ready for an attack run... 'Target in firing range'... Suddenly a blue light floods the cockpit... All of a sudden we were standing on the bridge of the Paranid Zeus...


I apologise for the lack of space battle... I promise to get some in soon...

[GoateeCat]

When I read this story, the word 'lack' is furthest from my mind. Don't worry, I find space battle the hardest thing to make interesting, thats why I try to skip it where I can.

Your style seems clipped at first, then I realise, its exciting. Don't change. Keep em coming.

[vader146]

don't worry this is a great story I'm right now trying to write a space battle in my new story (The Deep void plz check it out and tell me what you think so far) and I'm finding it very hard.

[silentWitness]

I see that this new part seems unworthy of comment in some peoples eyes...

Well I apologise for my short mediocre scribblings... and hope that the next one will be more worthy than this one!!!

[Howlingmad]

I just got on forum and read the above installment.

Don't change your style or your method. Just keep it coming.


Edit: for lousy grammar and carp speloging

[FourFingers]

I see that this new part seems unworthy of comment in some peoples eyes...

Well I apologise for my short mediocre scribblings... and hope that the next one will be more worthy than this one!!!

LOL..
Mediocre?? na! it aint that. It's got a nice rythym and a feel of excitement.
Dont worry about comments, your style is alot different to any of the other works here so I'd imagine most people aint sure what to say.

If ya make the next one 'more worthy' even better, I wouldnt wanna discourage ya from that!

Keep going, this poor girl is going thru hell.. hope she gets some good stuff.

[KiwiNZ]

Very good read, pretty elaborate on her fate, though

For a moment I thought that'd be the end of her but there seems to be a silver lining.

Looking forward to the next installment.

[Mercenary]

Only back in the office today and enjoyed it.

As Howlingmad says the style is working nicely and it's flowing well.

[GoateeCat]

Very good read, pretty elaborate on her fate, though

Don't listen to him, be elaborate with fate, it is the crux of drama.

[BigRich]

Mediocre my foot! I must admit I find your style a bit 'headlong' I'm always finding myself wanting to slow the action down and mentally have look around bit whilst I'm reading On the other hand from following this thread, I gather thats exactly the effect you intended. Keep it up - its definitely working for this reader!

I think my favourite bit was in the last chapter, when you were talking about the Paranid chief priest and priestess and mentioned them by title. Great bit of background and atmospher. A few more of these descriptive touches would be nice - but hey its not my story!

Looking forward to Chapter 7.

[raliel]

wonderful!!!! I like the commentary prose style and it amkes very good reading... next installment please

[silentWitness]

here we go...

http://www.egosoft.com/x2/forum/viewtopic.php?p=467162

[Triple-F]

Of course this is only one individuals opinion based on a limited exposure to the authors work. To paraphrase a wise adage, children should be seen and not read.

I found the narrative puerile, naive, clumsy and generally devoid of any worth while structure even taking into account the imaginative use of delimiters. Does she, though I have to questions the authors true gender (possible cross dressing aside), have a stutter I wonder. Though the apparent blackouts in the prose may be due to the levels of masturbation this particular heroine has to endure. With some time, experience and a degree of luck I am sure she/he will be published, after all Penthouse are always looking for new talent, writing or otherwise.

In conclusion I found, unlike much of the work on this board, it to be little more than the literal manifestations of a frustrated adolescents fantasies. Though on the positive side the spelling was on the whole very good.

[BigRich]

To paraphrase a wise adage, children should be seen and not read.

To paraphrase another one, if you can't say something constructive, don't say anything at all. Obviously you didn't like the story - fine - you're entitled to your opinion. It would have been nice if you'd offered some constructive thoughts though, instead of taking quite such a condescending tone.

Have you ever tried your hand at creative writing? If you havn't, give it a try sometime - its not so easy. If you have, then you have my respect - but how about passing on some encouragement as one writer to another, rather than just vilifying (sp?) somebody elses work?


-Rich

[Triple-F]

BigRich
I understand your point of view, and I respect your opinions, and I would say that my statement was a bit past condescending.

All art forms are full of people with varying degrees of ability, imagination and success and is ultimately used as a means of expression by the artist, which can hopefully be appreciated by a viewer. Unfortunately, at least in to-days world it is also a commercial business. While mutual back patting can encourage an emerging talent, too much can strangle it.

A negative, or even incoherent ranting, review of ones work is inevitable, so a little "toughening up" could also be seen as useful, if not vital for an emerging writer to experience. If a horse constantly falls or refuses at the first fence, it may be wise, and ultimately kinder, that it is found something else to do.

If my unfortunate use of words discourages or overly angers the author then it may have been fortunate, and therefore constructive, that they where the ones that where used.

[scritty]

To paraphrase a wise adage, children should be seen and not read.

To paraphrase another one, if you can't say something constructive, don't say anything at all. Obviously you didn't like the story - fine - you're entitled to your opinion. It would have been nice if you'd offered some constructive thoughts though, instead of taking quite such a condescending tone.

Have you ever tried your hand at creative writing? If you havn't, give it a try sometime - its not so easy. If you have, then you have my respect - but how about passing on some encouragement as one writer to another, rather than just vilifying (sp?) somebody elses work?


-Rich

Telling someone they are wasting valuable time that might be better spent doing something else is constructive. However, writing is art, and as such it's merit is in the eye of the reader.
Sw is enjoyed by many, even us MG's differ in out opinion of it. Fair enoughI gave reading this a long time ago. This seems nicked from Edgar Allen Poe anyway..

So far I had not opened my eyes. I felt that I lay upon my back unbound. I reached out my hand, and it fell heavily upon something damp and hard. There I suffered it to remain for many minutes, while I strove to imagine where and what I could be. I longed, yet dared not, to employ my vision. I dreaded the first glance at objects around me. It was not that I feared to look upon things horrible, but that I grew aghast lest there should be NOTHING to see. At length, with a wild desperation at heart, I quickly unclosed my eyes. My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me. I struggled for breath. The intensity of the darkness seemed to oppress and stifle me. The atmosphere was intolerably close. I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise my reason. I brought to mind the inquisitorial proceedings, and attempted from that point to deduce my real condition. The sentence had passed, and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed. Yet not for a moment did I suppose myself actually dead. Such a supposition, notwithstanding what we read in fiction , is altogether inconsistent with real existence; -- but where and in what state was I? The condemned to death, I knew, perished usually at the auto-da-fes, and one of these had been held on the very night of the day of my trial. Had I been remanded to my dungeon, to await the next sacrifice, which would not take place for many months? This I at once saw could not be. Victims had been in immediate demand. Moreover my dungeon, as well as all the condemned cells at Toledo, had stone floors, and light was not altogether excluded.

A fearful idea now suddenly drove the blood in torrents upon my heart, and for a brief period I once more relapsed into insensibility. Upon recovering, I at once started to my feet, trembling convulsively in every fibre. I thrust my arms wildly above and around me in all directions. I felt nothing; yet dreaded to move a step, lest I should be impeded by the walls of a TOMB. Perspiration burst from every pore, and stood in cold big beads upon my forehead. The agony of suspense grew at length intolerable, and I cautiously moved forward, with my arms extended , and my eyes straining from their sockets, in the hope of catching some faint ray of light. I proceeded for many paces, but still all was blackness and vacancy. I breathed more freely. It seemed evident that mine was not, at least, the most hideous of fates.

See ??? Though clearly without the implied sexuality and bondage references that are getting might tiresome.


Clarker

[Triple-F]

Plagiarism is a bad thing except when used in moderation. After all words have already been invented so being unique can be rather difficult. Style is the key, the problem is the author appears to have lost her keys and is in the process of desperately grasping for them.

[GoateeCat]

Or you are desperately grasping to comprehend it.

[Mercenary]

BigRich
I understand your point of view, and I respect your opinions, and I would say that my statement was a bit past condescending.

All art forms are full of people with varying degrees of ability, imagination and success and is ultimately used as a means of expression by the artist, which can hopefully be appreciated by a viewer. Unfortunately, at least in to-days world it is also a commercial business. While mutual back patting can encourage an emerging talent, too much can strangle it.

A negative, or even incoherent ranting, review of ones work is inevitable, so a little "toughening up" could also be seen as useful, if not vital for an emerging writer to experience. If a horse constantly falls or refuses at the first fence, it may be wise, and ultimately kinder, that it is found something else to do.

If my unfortunate use of words discourages or overly angers the author then it may have been fortunate, and therefore constructive, that they where the ones that where used.

I agree with this sentiment.

The greatest part of learning is by getting it wrong to start with. People learn from their mistakes, however painful that experience may be, far faster than through success.

However harsh the critisism, it's an indicator that something maybe needs to change. The author can either review what the problem is, embrace it and attempt to improve or just ignore it.

Although I don't speak from experience on this, IMO many budding new authors will try and mimick a style of an established author that they enjoyed reading. There's nothing wrong with this but I would hope the style, given time, will become more individual.

Creativity should be encouraged and some people will succeed, others won't that's life.

Having read through the initial critisism several times the only highlighted area to be trimmed back on is the over use of the heroines apparent need to get laid. Which in the aftermath of the rape in one of the previous chapters strikes me as odd.

But that's just an opinion.

[BigRich]

Triple-F,

Thanks for the reasoned (and reasonable) response to my post. Your points are well taken, especially about the need for an emerging writer to develop a 'thick skin'. Neither would I dispute that criticism is important - arguably more so than back patting. However I would also take the view that whilst too much of the latter can strangle an emerging talent, too much of the former may cripple it before it has any chance to develop.

Personally I think gentle criticism is the way forward to start with. Dialogue rather than confrontation if you will. If the gentle criticism is ignored or rebutted for inappropriate reasons then a stronger approach is certainly justified. Perhaps this is slightly idealistic.

In the present case it would seem from the early chapters that the author had tried to start a story before and had been sufficiently discouraged that she abandoned it. (I must admit that I havn't searched back through this forum to find out why). This being the case, a more sympathetic approach to this next attempt might be in order.


- Rich