Sadly, that's probably not going to happen for a while...but that's why we had science fiction!!
This the the sequel to Indestructible (formerly called Wizard's Discovery, from which I posted an excerpt in Captain's Log, Day 80: Preview of a Book--the Club). I've already tried to write part of the sequel before (see Captain's Log, Day 91: The Sequel!) but I really didn't like the way it was going, so I decided to fast-forward a few years in the life of the protagonist and start over. Those of you who are bored enough to actually read both versions of the sequel, which I plan on calling Stargazer for reasons I plan on NOT revealing at this point, please give me feedback on your thoughts--is my new version better? Is the old one better? Are they both worth turning into books? (I did skip a few years, so I could do that...) Is my writing so horrible that it burns the retinas? Could you pull someone out of a black hole with a rope? Does the drag coefficient of those little rat-dogs improve if you shave racing stripes down their sides?
Ahh, the questions that plague a writer.
Anyhoo, here's the beginning of Stargazer. Good luck!
There comes a time in every rightly constructed human boy’s
life when he has a raging desire to be a soldier, or to fight aliens from
another. That boy would be incredibly envious to see the line of armored,
four-limbed soldiers marching down the hill towards him.
For me, it was a huge security issue.
My visor lit up with specs as I snapped target locks onto
every vulnerable spot I could find with the oncoming Scorics, hands clenching
into fists. I’d fought these beings on several worlds across the Milky Way,
humanity’s galactic domain, and I had a great respect for how deadly they were.
I was one of the few soldiers who had managed to survive the battle at Sorro’s
End, so here I was, honor guard for a parley.
“This is ridiculous.”
I grinned, full-face visor shielding my expression from the
oncoming aliens. That was Hyatt, my second-in-command and best friend, voicing
my unspoken opinion. “Yeah, I was more comfortable back on Kora,” I agreed,
glad the facemask also hid our rather unprofessional chatter. “At least then we
had our weapons ready before they
attacked.”
“Soldiers, can the small talk,” Sergeant Wilcon barked.
I rolled my eyes, as I’m sure Hyatt did. Sergeant was a
self-important weenie who had never seen battle and enjoyed throwing his weight
around. “Stuff it, Wilcon,” I retorted. “You don’t want to hear it, get off our
private freq.”
“Hey, did Leftie there power something up?” Hyatt broke in.
I zoomed in quickly. “Oh, nah, he’s disengaging his
overarmor. Must be the delegation leader, or whatever the equivalent title is
in Scoric.”
“I hate having to stand like this,” Hyatt muttered. “I’m all
jumpy.”
I silently agreed. Being in parade-ground formation looked
impressive, but it was about as useful as a stop sign as far as effective fighting
went. All the commanders and delegates insisted on armor locks, which make all
the soldiers ramrod straight and still as a bunch of rocks, but should anything
go down, it would take a few critical milliseconds to disengage everything and
power up. Right now, all ten of us soldiers were in passive sensor mode only,
which ticked at least two of us off.
The delegation from Earth passed between us to sit at the
table in the middle of the field, joining the Scoric leaders. Both parties of
soldiers, human and Scoric, stood rigidly at attention, staring each other
down.
“Greetings,” one of the Earth delegates began. “We
appreciate this truce—“
[May we skip the formalities?] a Scoric demanded. [We are
met to end this senseless violence, not bandy words like little] shransn.
“Shransn?” I muttered, trying to remember what that meant.
I’d learned scorachatt, but that word was a new one on me.
“I think the equivalent word is children,” Hyatt informed
me. “Specifically, those just gaining sentience. I’ve heard they can talk your
ear off.”
Our delegates managed to find their voices. “Of course,”
Devonius assured him smoothly. “Maybe you could start by explaining why you
started the violence in the first place.”
He should talk. I
gritted my teeth. Caught up in the Scorics’ presence, I hadn’t even noticed him
at the table. He’d led two bloody revolutions, then claimed to only be trying
to promote defense of Earth. His warning and leadership had led the Earth
leaders to give him a pardon and a place in the delegation, but that didn’t
mean that I had to trust him.
[Do not play us for fools,] the Scoric said contemptuously.
[Your forces fired the first shot.]
“When you invaded our galaxy,” Devonius pointed out.
[You have no use for it.] The alien waved a hand, a gesture
he’d obviously been practicing for the express benefit of human interaction. It
came off as rather robotic. [Your people have not yet begun to branch out,
perhaps never will. We need the territory as an expansionist race. We will have it.]
“Galactic law states that home galaxies are off-limits to
expansion,” Devonius reminded him.
[Exceptions will be made.]
“No, they shall not. We have a right—“
[You shall die defending a non-existent right.]
“Our forces have been holding yours off quite well so far.”
[They shall fall. We have come here to spare you unnecessary
death, and you think to threaten us?]
I snapped on my speaker, clearing my throat. [Thirty-five
eighty point five hundred and sixty three by forty-seven point oh-one by twelve
hundred and thirty-two clicks, delta-v point five light on seventy by sixty by
five point five.]
Everyone (well, except the human soldiers) turned to look at
me. [What is the meaning of this?] the Scoric demanded.
“Spatial and vectoral numbers, from this plant’s coordinate
system,” I clarified. “3580.563 by 47.01 by 1232 clicks, delta-v .5 on 70 by 60
by 5.5.”
The Scoric snarled. [Do you thus allow your soldiers to
presume to address us?]
“Stand down, soldier,” Devonius ordered, voice laden with
threat.
I ignored them both, unlocking my right arm. “You want
territory,” I mused, pointing at the Scoric. The alien’s troops immediately
locked all their weapons on me, causing the Earth bodyguards to unlock
themselves and train their weapons on the Scorics. I rolled my eyes, my
expression lost behind my visor, and continued, “And we want to keep it. So
check out the territory I just gave you and get out of our galaxy.”
The Scoric leader eyed me, if such a thing could be said to
be done by a being with multi-faceted eyes. It was usually hard to tell what
they were concentrating on. [How do you know this place is unoccupied? You
could merely seek to lead us into a trap.]
I shrugged, a futile movement with my armor locked. “I wound
up there on an equipment malfunction, flicking out of the Kora system. I had
enough time to scan it before my return. It’s unoccupied, probably leading out
past what we call the Andromeda Galaxy. Gives you a bit more room, and you can
leave us alone while you explore out there.”
[But your galaxy, it goes to waste.]
“Right,” I agreed. Devonius shot me a look that could have
frozen a supernova (figuratively, anyway; the wizard wasn’t that powerful). “Which is why we need to determine who on our
planet is ready to receive the truth about the universe and move off Earth, set
up some interstellar trade, et cetera. But—“ I pointed to the Scoric again,
“that means you guys need to get your butts out of here.”
The Scoric had gone oddly still. [Who are you?]
I dropped my arm. “I’m Captain Ryan Phoenix of the 567th
Tactical Squadron.”
[Ah, the True Human Leader.] The Scoric stood, gesturing to
his troops. They all lowered their weapons.
I blinked. I wasn’t a xenolinguist, but I was pretty sure he
had just said that in capital letters. “What?”
[The True Human Leader,] the Scoric repeated, now completely
ignoring the diplomats (who looked about as confused as I felt). He began
walking around the table.
“All units, keep your weapons off,” I ordered, briefly
switching frequencies so the aliens and diplomats couldn't hear me.
“He’s coming at you, Cap,” Hyatt protested.
“With no weapons of his own—you saying I can’t take on a
lone Scoric? Especially after Kora? I didn’t even have armor there.”
“You’re going to be in some seriously hot water for this,
Phoenix,” Wilcon growled. I ignored him.
The Scoric stopped in front of me. [In our culture, our
leaders—I believe you call them diplomats—indeed
begin wars, as yours do. However, they must also direct that battle, as your
generals do, and fight on the front lines with the soldiers they command. This
keeps them honest and less ready to start futile conflicts. It was interesting
to see that your leaders are distant, treating their soldiers as pawns.] He
paused, contempt obvious in his voice. [But in monitoring your communications,
we noticed a warrior on the front lines, who reprimanded his commanders and
bravely led his forces into battle.]
I almost laughed. I had
yelled at my commanding officers for their stupid decisions and usually ignored
most of what they said. Ironically, it was the only reason I had a command—my methods
resulted in huge successes, and the top generals figured the best thing to do
with me would be to stick all of the troublemakers into one group with me and
turn them loose with vague objectives. That way, we could keep scoring victories,
and if something imploded on us, they’d only loose the non-conformers. Win-win.
The Scoric continued. [That was true leadership, and showed
a brilliance that gave us pause. After the battles of the Fifth Quadrant and
our subsequent losses, we agreed to this conference in the hopes of sparing
such an admirable leader. We surely would overrun humanity, given time, but your
loss would be a sad blow to the universe.] He gave me a Scoric-style salute,
arms crossed over his chest and tilting his head. [It is my honor to meet you.
I accept your proposal, and look forward to better relations with the human
race.] He turned back to the diplomats before I could respond. [Use your
resources well. Procure a treaty and I shall sign in blood here.]
“Sign in blood?” Hyatt muttered.
“Scoric thing,” I responded, still trying to process what
the Scoric had said. The only thing that kept running through my mind was Devonius and the diplomats are gonna be mad.
“You have more chutzpah than anyone I’ve ever even heard of,” one
of the soldiers from Wilcon’s unit told me.
“Can it, Kirra, or you’ll be on KP for a month,” Wicon
barked.
The treaty was finished and signed an hour later, officially ending the war.
