This is the worst. All around Derek, the sound of alarm klaxons blared through the starship. He was stumbling through an open hatch. The feeling in his limbs had yet to return in full, and he had trouble processing what was happening. Emergency lighting had jumped into life, dipping the metallic corridors into a deep red. White floor lamps were guiding him to what he hoped would turn out safety.
Derek fell a third time in five meters. His legs protested when he tried to get up, and he groaned at them in response. Move, move, move! Waking up from the sleeping pods was supposed to be a long, controlled process that should have lasted hours. From the looks of it, the AI was forcing the pods open all at once, disengaging safety protocols and hurling its passengers out. Something must've gone horribly wrong.
He couldn't get up. Instead, he wretched whatever substance the pod had force-fed him over the past months on the floor.
"No time for this," a voice behind him said. A man, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, walked up the corridor, his steps quick and steady. "Get up, or get out of the way."
Derek, feeling exhausted just from moving his head, tried to comply. To no avail.
The man rushed past him, made sure to avoid the puddle of vomit, and vanished around the next corner.
"Hey- wait-" Derek started coughing. He just- he just left me.
A rumble went through the ship. The klaxons died in a last, stretched sound of warning. Need to get away. Need to- There was a screeching sound of metal being torn apart. The section the man had come from was breaking away from the rest of the ship. For a few moments, Derek could see the debris floating through space. He felt the tug of vacuum as the air was sucked out of the compartment.
An emergency hatch slammed down at the far side. The whole scene had lasted nothing more but a heartbeat. Derek started breathing again. He hadn't noticed stopping.
He ignored the aching pain that surged through his body with every muscle he moved and crawled forward, following the white lights on the floor. They were still blinking, urging him to a safe location.
Afterwards, Derek couldn't tell how much time he had needed to reach the escape pod. The sound of the dying starship accompanied him throughout his journey, and the occasional screams of passengers soon joined the mix. Secondary explosions shook the compartment more than once.
A couple of escape pods were already missing. Derek couldn't be bothered to check his destination and trusted the AI to ensure his survival. It got me this far, it'll look out for me a little while longer.
In the end, Derek couldn't remember initiating the launch sequence. The escape pod departed safely nevertheless.
***
"You!" Derek said. "You asshole didn't even lift as much as a finger to help me back there!"
He had suffered atmospheric entry, the surface impact, and had done everything else the escape pod's synthetic voice had told him. Stay calm, follow emergency breathing protocol, keep your arms in the straps at all times. After "landing", Derek had hesitated getting out. His body actually felt better, but the shock of impact was still rattling through his bones. Also, it was an unknown planet out there, an unknown rimworld. He had set out with a few hundred other people to settle exactly one of these planets, admittedly, but this wasn't a well-planned settling operation anymore, and this wasn't the planet they had chosen either. The other settlers would be scattered across the star system, already dead, or die within the coming week.
When the escape pod had finally managed to convince him to blow the hatch and get the hell out, it had been no small surprise to find two other pods directly nearby. The AI must've made sure we stay in groups. They had come down in a jungle of sorts, with thick undergrowth covering the floor and high and sturdy trees vying for some sunlight with each other. Animal screams echoed over the landscape, some monkeys, probably.
That one of the men strolling around was the same guy who had left him behind back on the ship, though, seemed ill-luck. None of his fellow settlers were anywhere to be seen.
"Every man for himself," he said, and Derek became conscious of the rifle the man still carried around.
The pod includes a pistol, I think. I hope.
"I'm Mushinto Takamu," the man said without offering his hand in greeting. "And from the looks of it, our faces are going to be the only ones you'll see in a while, so get used to it, kid."
He looked around. "Yeah, this does look- hey!" Derek flinched. "What are you calling me a kid for?"
"You are one," the other man joined in. "Not even sure what you were doing on a trip like this."
"I survived for sixteen years on a world that was so fucked up we couldn't breathe on the surface, you bet I know what survival looks like."
Mushinto settled down on a couple of stones while laughing. "Boy, I'm not going to share my life story with you but let me tell you, I've survived a lot. I've seen a lot of survivors. You don't look like one."
The other man nodded in agreement. "See his arms, man? Never lifted so much as a finger, I can tell you."
Derek grew more and more uncomfortable around the other two. It was true, of course, there hadn't been much physical labour in the mostly automated underground shelters, and both men looked like they could crack him in two like a twig. Still... "They chose me for a settlement project. I got some training in basic survival and everything else you need to know for this sort of stuff." He looked them up and down, one by one. "That's why I'm here. Call me Derek, or don't talk to me at all." His blood was pumping by now. I sure hope my face isn't as red as it feels.
In the back, the man was nodding again. "All right Kid Derek. I'm Viktor. Viktor Valentine."
That's a start, I gue-
"Viktor Valentine," Mushinto said while turning around, "Viktor Valentine of the ship Dung Mucker?"
Viktor started grinning. "The Dung Mucker 2000, please."
Mushinto slowly got to his feet and readied his rifle. "Viktor Valentine, captain of the Dung Mucker 2000 and second-in-command of the Flying Pussyfoot brigands?"
Derek was edging away from the scene, back to his pod. I should really get that gun.
"Mind where you're pointing that?" Viktor said.
"2ooo pieces of silver. That's the bounty on your head, in case you were interested."
"It went up again? It's nice to know that you're appreciated, isn't it?"
Derek was still moving backwards, but one of his feet got entangled in a high-growing fern. He landed soft on the plant, but the noise urged Mushinto to spin around and aim the rifle at him.
"Now, dear Mister Takamu," Viktor said. He had used the distraction to pull his own gun. "Lay down the rifle, slowly, and then we'll have a proper talk about this."
Mushinto was still facing Derek. "There is nothing to talk about here. You're scum, I hunt scum. I get paid for hunting scum. Simple story."
Viktor laughed. "Not quite as simple, is it? We're stranded here, on a planet unknown to the three of us, I take it. You won't be collecting any bounty any time soon, so working together should be top of the agenda."
Derek was looking up the rifle barrel. "He's right," he said, his voice shaking. "We need to work on a plan to get off this planet, and we need to do it right now."
Mushinto's eyes narrowed. "You two know each other?"
Derek shook his head.
Inch by inch, the man lowered his rifle. Behind him, Viktor did the same.
"Well then, Mister Trained-Settler," Viktor said, "you do this sort of thing. Care to share some of that wisdom?"
Derek swallowed hard. Two armed and violent men facing him wasn't doing his thinking processes any good. "This sort of thing?" he said, raising his voice. "We crash-landed! Settling a planet involves heavy machinery, lots of personnel and materials to get you started. What do we got? Two guys who'd rather bash their heads in and a kid!" Again, his blood was pumping, rushing through his ears. This wasn't the impression I wanted to make...
Both of the others just looked at him with impassive faces. "You finished?" Mushinto asked. "Because after you're done throwing that fit of yours, you might want to start coming up with something useful."
He's right. Dammit I hate it when guys like him are right. "Well, for starters, our location is shit."
"What's wrong with it?" Viktor asked.
Derek looked around. Already, he felt the heat pressing down on him. "Bad ground conditions, uncomfortable temperatures and humidity levels, diseases, possibly dangerous animals... you want me to continue?"
"We can't relocate," Viktor said. "In fact, we need to start putting down the groundwork for a place to stay. And that has to happen now rather than later."
"A place to stay?" Derek was still sitting in the fern. "Like a... a colony?"
"Exactly like a colony."
Derek snorted and wrestled with the plant to get up. "We need to find some sort of civilization and get off this planet."
"And how," Mushinto said, "do you reckon we'll do that? Because the only ways off a planet like this usually either involve chains and a slaver, or a shit ton of money."
I'm going to be stuck here? With these two of all people?
"Well said." Viktor was, once again, nodding. "So we'll have to make do."
Derek, still numbed by the realization, was struggling towards his pod. "I got some... I got some basic blueprints. Walls. Generators. That sort of stuff but... we'll need equipment. Construction materials."
Mushinto was staring into the jungle. "Plenty of wood around, the escape pods can be broken down into some metal, and they carry an emergency kit of basic tools and food. The on-board power sources won't run for much longer, so we might just as well scavenge the whole thing."
"Wood won't do, not in the- not in the long run."
"What about food?" Viktor said. He had produced one of the meal packages from his nearby pod and was weighing it around in his hands. "These won't last long."
"Might be able to extract something we can use for seeds out of them, but..."
"Good," Viktor said. "We'll do that then."
How can they just carry on like this? While he was rummaging through the small cargo compartment of his own escape pod, he heard Mushinto dishing out some tasks.
"-so you go around and scout out the area. Try to find us some water source for starters. Derek and I will stay here and try to build us a roof."
No one raised any objections, and the three of them went to work.
Derek called up some of the blueprints and displayed them on the escape pod's small but functioning interface. We'll have to keep this one alive a little while longer, until we got another way of accessing them. He had consulted with Mushinto for a few minutes on how to proceed, and then the two had fallen into a silent working routine.
They had been at it for an hour, cutting branches and smaller trees down to a more manageable size, when Mushinto spoke up. "This Viktor is a bad fellow," he said.
Derek didn't answer. He was focusing on getting the size of his plank right.
"I heard a bit about him, you know. If you're nasty enough, or dangerous enough, then word about you gets around in my line of work."
Still, Derek was working his piece of wood.
"This guy," he said and whistled through his teeth. "This guy has done it all. Pretty strong bond with the other brigands of his band as well. Evaded authorities for almost seven years now. No one knows where he came from or how he made it that big." The sound of Mushinto's saw stopped. "Don't trust him."
"Trust you, then?" Derek asked. "You left me to die up there, and one of the first things you did down here was point your gun at first Viktor, and then me." He was feeling more at ease now, despite the circumstances. Even though physical labour had been scarce in his life up to today, it always had a calming effect on him.
"Just don't be surprised if he stabs you in the back someday. In a situation like this, survival has to be your first priority. Whatever it takes."
Mushinto started sawing his log again, but Derek was still contemplating his words. Memories came up in his mind, of food shortages in the bunker complexes, and of the smell of cooked flesh. He licked his lips. Whatever it takes.
Derek Carter, sixteen years old and crash-landed on the rimworld Alderamin, went back to work.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: Not sure how much interest there is for a story like this around here, but I guess writing up a first few chapters can't hurt. Trying to manoeuvre stuff I don't quite understand, like the ease with which our colonists get their resources for gameplay reasons and the like, but I don't think I'll spend too much time on that.
A7 colony with Phoebe/Challenge to get me accustomed to the changes and leave me some time between attacks to plan the narration a little bit. Have fun reading.
Edit: Link to Part 2 due to message character limit. http://ludeon.com/forums/index.php?topic=6555.msg65145#msg65145
Derek fell a third time in five meters. His legs protested when he tried to get up, and he groaned at them in response. Move, move, move! Waking up from the sleeping pods was supposed to be a long, controlled process that should have lasted hours. From the looks of it, the AI was forcing the pods open all at once, disengaging safety protocols and hurling its passengers out. Something must've gone horribly wrong.
He couldn't get up. Instead, he wretched whatever substance the pod had force-fed him over the past months on the floor.
"No time for this," a voice behind him said. A man, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, walked up the corridor, his steps quick and steady. "Get up, or get out of the way."
Derek, feeling exhausted just from moving his head, tried to comply. To no avail.
The man rushed past him, made sure to avoid the puddle of vomit, and vanished around the next corner.
"Hey- wait-" Derek started coughing. He just- he just left me.
A rumble went through the ship. The klaxons died in a last, stretched sound of warning. Need to get away. Need to- There was a screeching sound of metal being torn apart. The section the man had come from was breaking away from the rest of the ship. For a few moments, Derek could see the debris floating through space. He felt the tug of vacuum as the air was sucked out of the compartment.
An emergency hatch slammed down at the far side. The whole scene had lasted nothing more but a heartbeat. Derek started breathing again. He hadn't noticed stopping.
He ignored the aching pain that surged through his body with every muscle he moved and crawled forward, following the white lights on the floor. They were still blinking, urging him to a safe location.
Afterwards, Derek couldn't tell how much time he had needed to reach the escape pod. The sound of the dying starship accompanied him throughout his journey, and the occasional screams of passengers soon joined the mix. Secondary explosions shook the compartment more than once.
A couple of escape pods were already missing. Derek couldn't be bothered to check his destination and trusted the AI to ensure his survival. It got me this far, it'll look out for me a little while longer.
In the end, Derek couldn't remember initiating the launch sequence. The escape pod departed safely nevertheless.
***
"You!" Derek said. "You asshole didn't even lift as much as a finger to help me back there!"
He had suffered atmospheric entry, the surface impact, and had done everything else the escape pod's synthetic voice had told him. Stay calm, follow emergency breathing protocol, keep your arms in the straps at all times. After "landing", Derek had hesitated getting out. His body actually felt better, but the shock of impact was still rattling through his bones. Also, it was an unknown planet out there, an unknown rimworld. He had set out with a few hundred other people to settle exactly one of these planets, admittedly, but this wasn't a well-planned settling operation anymore, and this wasn't the planet they had chosen either. The other settlers would be scattered across the star system, already dead, or die within the coming week.
When the escape pod had finally managed to convince him to blow the hatch and get the hell out, it had been no small surprise to find two other pods directly nearby. The AI must've made sure we stay in groups. They had come down in a jungle of sorts, with thick undergrowth covering the floor and high and sturdy trees vying for some sunlight with each other. Animal screams echoed over the landscape, some monkeys, probably.
That one of the men strolling around was the same guy who had left him behind back on the ship, though, seemed ill-luck. None of his fellow settlers were anywhere to be seen.
"Every man for himself," he said, and Derek became conscious of the rifle the man still carried around.
The pod includes a pistol, I think. I hope.
"I'm Mushinto Takamu," the man said without offering his hand in greeting. "And from the looks of it, our faces are going to be the only ones you'll see in a while, so get used to it, kid."
He looked around. "Yeah, this does look- hey!" Derek flinched. "What are you calling me a kid for?"
"You are one," the other man joined in. "Not even sure what you were doing on a trip like this."
"I survived for sixteen years on a world that was so fucked up we couldn't breathe on the surface, you bet I know what survival looks like."
Mushinto settled down on a couple of stones while laughing. "Boy, I'm not going to share my life story with you but let me tell you, I've survived a lot. I've seen a lot of survivors. You don't look like one."
The other man nodded in agreement. "See his arms, man? Never lifted so much as a finger, I can tell you."
Derek grew more and more uncomfortable around the other two. It was true, of course, there hadn't been much physical labour in the mostly automated underground shelters, and both men looked like they could crack him in two like a twig. Still... "They chose me for a settlement project. I got some training in basic survival and everything else you need to know for this sort of stuff." He looked them up and down, one by one. "That's why I'm here. Call me Derek, or don't talk to me at all." His blood was pumping by now. I sure hope my face isn't as red as it feels.
In the back, the man was nodding again. "All right Kid Derek. I'm Viktor. Viktor Valentine."
That's a start, I gue-
"Viktor Valentine," Mushinto said while turning around, "Viktor Valentine of the ship Dung Mucker?"
Viktor started grinning. "The Dung Mucker 2000, please."
Mushinto slowly got to his feet and readied his rifle. "Viktor Valentine, captain of the Dung Mucker 2000 and second-in-command of the Flying Pussyfoot brigands?"
Derek was edging away from the scene, back to his pod. I should really get that gun.
"Mind where you're pointing that?" Viktor said.
"2ooo pieces of silver. That's the bounty on your head, in case you were interested."
"It went up again? It's nice to know that you're appreciated, isn't it?"
Derek was still moving backwards, but one of his feet got entangled in a high-growing fern. He landed soft on the plant, but the noise urged Mushinto to spin around and aim the rifle at him.
"Now, dear Mister Takamu," Viktor said. He had used the distraction to pull his own gun. "Lay down the rifle, slowly, and then we'll have a proper talk about this."
Mushinto was still facing Derek. "There is nothing to talk about here. You're scum, I hunt scum. I get paid for hunting scum. Simple story."
Viktor laughed. "Not quite as simple, is it? We're stranded here, on a planet unknown to the three of us, I take it. You won't be collecting any bounty any time soon, so working together should be top of the agenda."
Derek was looking up the rifle barrel. "He's right," he said, his voice shaking. "We need to work on a plan to get off this planet, and we need to do it right now."
Mushinto's eyes narrowed. "You two know each other?"
Derek shook his head.
Inch by inch, the man lowered his rifle. Behind him, Viktor did the same.
"Well then, Mister Trained-Settler," Viktor said, "you do this sort of thing. Care to share some of that wisdom?"
Derek swallowed hard. Two armed and violent men facing him wasn't doing his thinking processes any good. "This sort of thing?" he said, raising his voice. "We crash-landed! Settling a planet involves heavy machinery, lots of personnel and materials to get you started. What do we got? Two guys who'd rather bash their heads in and a kid!" Again, his blood was pumping, rushing through his ears. This wasn't the impression I wanted to make...
Both of the others just looked at him with impassive faces. "You finished?" Mushinto asked. "Because after you're done throwing that fit of yours, you might want to start coming up with something useful."
He's right. Dammit I hate it when guys like him are right. "Well, for starters, our location is shit."
"What's wrong with it?" Viktor asked.
Derek looked around. Already, he felt the heat pressing down on him. "Bad ground conditions, uncomfortable temperatures and humidity levels, diseases, possibly dangerous animals... you want me to continue?"
"We can't relocate," Viktor said. "In fact, we need to start putting down the groundwork for a place to stay. And that has to happen now rather than later."
"A place to stay?" Derek was still sitting in the fern. "Like a... a colony?"
"Exactly like a colony."
Derek snorted and wrestled with the plant to get up. "We need to find some sort of civilization and get off this planet."
"And how," Mushinto said, "do you reckon we'll do that? Because the only ways off a planet like this usually either involve chains and a slaver, or a shit ton of money."
I'm going to be stuck here? With these two of all people?
"Well said." Viktor was, once again, nodding. "So we'll have to make do."
Derek, still numbed by the realization, was struggling towards his pod. "I got some... I got some basic blueprints. Walls. Generators. That sort of stuff but... we'll need equipment. Construction materials."
Mushinto was staring into the jungle. "Plenty of wood around, the escape pods can be broken down into some metal, and they carry an emergency kit of basic tools and food. The on-board power sources won't run for much longer, so we might just as well scavenge the whole thing."
"Wood won't do, not in the- not in the long run."
"What about food?" Viktor said. He had produced one of the meal packages from his nearby pod and was weighing it around in his hands. "These won't last long."
"Might be able to extract something we can use for seeds out of them, but..."
"Good," Viktor said. "We'll do that then."
How can they just carry on like this? While he was rummaging through the small cargo compartment of his own escape pod, he heard Mushinto dishing out some tasks.
"-so you go around and scout out the area. Try to find us some water source for starters. Derek and I will stay here and try to build us a roof."
No one raised any objections, and the three of them went to work.
Derek called up some of the blueprints and displayed them on the escape pod's small but functioning interface. We'll have to keep this one alive a little while longer, until we got another way of accessing them. He had consulted with Mushinto for a few minutes on how to proceed, and then the two had fallen into a silent working routine.
They had been at it for an hour, cutting branches and smaller trees down to a more manageable size, when Mushinto spoke up. "This Viktor is a bad fellow," he said.
Derek didn't answer. He was focusing on getting the size of his plank right.
"I heard a bit about him, you know. If you're nasty enough, or dangerous enough, then word about you gets around in my line of work."
Still, Derek was working his piece of wood.
"This guy," he said and whistled through his teeth. "This guy has done it all. Pretty strong bond with the other brigands of his band as well. Evaded authorities for almost seven years now. No one knows where he came from or how he made it that big." The sound of Mushinto's saw stopped. "Don't trust him."
"Trust you, then?" Derek asked. "You left me to die up there, and one of the first things you did down here was point your gun at first Viktor, and then me." He was feeling more at ease now, despite the circumstances. Even though physical labour had been scarce in his life up to today, it always had a calming effect on him.
"Just don't be surprised if he stabs you in the back someday. In a situation like this, survival has to be your first priority. Whatever it takes."
Mushinto started sawing his log again, but Derek was still contemplating his words. Memories came up in his mind, of food shortages in the bunker complexes, and of the smell of cooked flesh. He licked his lips. Whatever it takes.
Derek Carter, sixteen years old and crash-landed on the rimworld Alderamin, went back to work.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: Not sure how much interest there is for a story like this around here, but I guess writing up a first few chapters can't hurt. Trying to manoeuvre stuff I don't quite understand, like the ease with which our colonists get their resources for gameplay reasons and the like, but I don't think I'll spend too much time on that.
A7 colony with Phoebe/Challenge to get me accustomed to the changes and leave me some time between attacks to plan the narration a little bit. Have fun reading.
Edit: Link to Part 2 due to message character limit. http://ludeon.com/forums/index.php?topic=6555.msg65145#msg65145