“Shades of Gray”
by Geri Fitzsimmons
Copyright 2002 by Geraldine Fitzsimmons-Durante
All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONE
Lieutenant Anderson O’Brien’s slender six foot three frame was topped by a cap of unruly, barely regulation cut, ginger hair. A dash of freckles, peppering a slightly upward tilted nose gave boyish appeal to the face of a man nearing twenty-six.
O’Brien’s eyes were strained. His neck was stiff. It was nearly time to switch places with his co-pilot. This down time would allow for the six hours deep sleep he looked forward to. Thirty-eight hours up here. Surely he was getting as wacky as Colin. A humourless grin creased his mouth. Pretty soon he would be counting seconds.
The two young pilots aboard this vessel were members of an elite corps within the United States Air Force, on loan to the World Council and stationed at Moonbase. “All of what gets us a couple bucks a month more than combat pay,” was how Colin Harahan explained their status.
Immediately upon its conception, the news media had shortened the title of World Council to the WC, which still brought a grin to English speaking lips.
On this SAS (search, affirm, and secure) mission, their ship wasn’t equipped for lengthy space travel. It was a two-man recon; a bit more sophisticated than the four fighter planes that accompanied her. She had a clear bubble top that allowed for a wrap-a-round view of the outside, though there was nothing much to see. Harahan again confirmed that fact as his eyes swiveled with the search beams. “SAS reporting. 1501hrs—unknown anomaly still stationary. No visual change detected.”
While they maintained an ‘Open Window’ into the cockpits, so long as the proper reports came through, the crew in communications back at Moonbase paid only the barest notice to what was said. They’d heard it all before. If some big shot happened to appear they instantly flashed a warning to the pilots.
“One million bucks weighs twenty-and-a-half pounds.” Lieutenant Colin Harahan spoke aloud while he punched at the keys that sent this same message to the Secure Personal Message Display. He was always coming up with these gems of information.
O’Brien groaned and braced himself for more drivel. He rubbed the back of his neck. If the other fellows fed into Harahan’s sport, the SPM board would continue the rapid green and black flashing which gave him a headache.
//Don't spend it all at once// The reply flashed on the SPM board.
"On AF pay? I took this job for the glory, the glamour-- and what did I get? A bunk at Moonbase and lunar dust in every orifice of my body." Harahan inevitable added voice to the words he typed. So attempting to ignore the flashing screen gave O’Brien no reprieve from his nonsense.
//Take it up with the WC goons, pal. Or resign. You could always get a cushy job piloting exec butts. //
O’Brien was readying yet another probe for launch into the Rift. The stations weren't causing the Rift, no matter what the World Council executives thought. Every probe had returned negative scans. No abnormal radio waves, no gas, no magnetic pulses, no little green men. They'd entertained every crackpot idea the WC scientists had thrown at them. Coming off an adrenaline high, curiosity replaced fear but even that was fading to boredom.
//Think of our bonus on this one Harahan. You can buy more toys// O’Brien watched the rapid translation from Russian. So far no one was breaking the ship-to-ship radio ban. He couldn’t complain.
Harahan chuckled and picked up his latest toy, a Personal News Reader. The PNR was a news-junkie's fix, giving global news 24/7. “This recycled air, is advertising our need of a shower, a good meal and a decent bed.” He had switched the SPM to voice activation.
//Harahan, add some P-yeah or is this your week for guys? // The SPM flashed in reply as Harahan’s voice now posted the words he spoke.
A two words salutation sent back to Mordecai, an Israeli pilot at the controls of a fighter plane, lacked oral accompaniment for Harahan kept //FU// programmed in to match with his whistle.
To ease the boredom as the probes continued their endless blips relaying no useful knowledge, Colin Harahan began keeping the others informed on happenings around the Globe. He thrived on deciphering the news his way. He pasted on the SPM monitor //Coon massacre in the Congo//
The radio suddenly crackled with an angry South African accent. "Harahan? That you? Asshole!"
Harahan leaned back in the copilot seat. He grinned at O’Brien. "Well, well, D’Andrea, as I live and breathe. I knew that’d get a rise out of you.” He studied the pocketsize computer screen. "Hey, Mordecai, you there? My PNR says you Jews are invading Hebron again."
Another angry voice jumped in. "If I remember my history, you prick, bigotry was declared a major criminal offense in 2020. Oh wait, you Micks were probably too drunk to take that in."
“Kill the chatter guys.” O’Brien didn’t out rank any of them but he was First Officer on this mission. “Keep the radios clear.”
"Damn it, Andy, it's not like something's changed in the last—” Harahan paused to check the digi-chron. "-- oh, thirty-eight hours, twenty-nine minutes and forty-three seconds. Not that I'm counting."
At five eight, Lieutenant Colin Harahan always stood as straight as he could manage, the other guys referred to him as the tough little bastard. What they really meant was if he’s got a problem with you, don’t turn your back on the little prick. So while Harahan had lots of buddies, O’Brien knew he was his only friend.
“You know, Andy, you made the right choice keeping your kid on Moonbase.” Harahan’s eyes shifted from the bubble roof in favor of the PNR screen. “Those WC academies got little wars brewing now. Sure didn’t take long. Listen up. Two twelve-year-old youths found beaten and hanged at LAA. No suspects. Really shits, packing them kids altogether regardless of nationality, religion, or sex. All the policing on record can’t stop gangs from forming.” Harahan loved the sound of his own voice. O’Brien’s fifteen year association taught him that there wasn’t a subject Colin didn’t have an opinion on.
O’Brien had just turned down a chance for an Earth Posting. His daughter was the reason. Annie was seven and a return home would mean compulsory education at a World Council Academy. The idea of turning his child over to the care of strangers for the next ten years gave him wide-awake nightmares. Oh, he’d get to visit. Big deal. Open visitation rights they claimed. Holidays and one weekend a mouth home visits.
Harahan referred to them as the ‘Playpen Prisons’. Each of the mammoth structures of glass, metal, and concrete held a million or more youngsters. The concept behind the construction of these monstrosities was supposed to be sound. All youngsters would receive equal opportunity for education and physical development.
They also would allow parents to engage in their own activities with no worries about childcare. At least that was the theory behind them.
O’Brian had taken Annie on a tour of the Los Angles Academy. His child had stared wide eyed at the uniform figures with rifles patrolling the grounds.
Annie had clutched his hand as they moved from area to area where boys and girls went through the mechanics of playing and learning. On the surface everything appeared quite normal to Anderson, still, when they left, Annie snuggled close to him in the hovercraft.
“Daddy,” she asked, “how come the kids here don’t ever laugh?”
So he said, to hell with that desired Earth Posting. Farewell to that two-year liaison with Karen, which hurt him deeply for the three of them were becoming a great family. Annie loved Karen as much as he did. But Karen refused to make a commitment. She wanted those Captain bars. So by the end of the month she would be at her new post sporting Earth Corps insignia on a drab gray uniform.
He hadn’t told his mother yet that Karen was leaving him. Jess was going to be pissed off. Having a mom only 15 years older was a fun thing; still it had its drawbacks. Jess wanted a life, she said. She was too young to play housemother to him and his daughter forever.
Harahan tossed O’Brien an energy bar and yelled, “Nothing there but a nightmare. Come on, lads, we all shout at the same time maybe we’ll wake up.”
This dark spot of nothingness, that was being called The Rift, had simply materialized in space midway between two of the orbital stations that patrolled above Earth’s atmosphere. With a dozen madmen now possessing the Clean Tirilian power and hundreds of others capable of launching chemical or biological bombs, the World Council operated these stations.
The Council, composed of thirteen powerful governments, seized and maintained dictatorial rule over out-of-atmosphere development. Originally formed within the United Nations, by 2010 the WC succeeded in taking control of the impotent UN. So where ‘Bad Boy’ members once faced sanctions now they faced annihilation from a ‘Safe’ bomb delivered to a ‘Control’ area.
This threat didn’t maintain peace. Hot little wars still kept the news interesting.
“Can you believe this?” Harahan’s tone was skeptical. “The WC court has declared a possible ‘Gene’ violation in the TC war.” A snicker followed, “just a possible?” as if the massacre of a million and more was of little importance.
The WC Science lab on Moonbase was mainly concerned that the electric, magnetic unified field that allowed for the Virtual Gravity on the stations was somehow causing The Rift. This recon mission was in place to monitor until a proper scientific expedition could be assembled.
O’Brien was First Officer simply because of the rotation schedule that allowed a multinational unit to function peacefully. So while he mouthed the words, "Glad to see you're taking this mission so seriously, Colin,” they held no real threat of authority.
"I'm counting the hours to my pension, let’s see, 4300 days 10hours and 22minutes. Andy, how ya like that, the Dodgers lost Pepin. Fucking Japs doubled the turncoat’s salary. This expanding the leagues into foreign countries is bound to muck up the World Series.” Harahan was into the Sports channel now.
//Any race results in?// Had he put voice to the communication, the Australian twang would have been shortly followed by a German’s corrupted English requesting information on the finalist at the Irish Open.
The probes continued their endless blips.
Harahan continued posting his jazzy descriptions of news events. // ‘Body Farm’ harvested first human heart. Yeah! Next a brain. Lads let’s line up for big new peckers....//
There had been nothing on the readouts to warn them. Where there had been only blackness, suddenly iridescent light filled the cavity in space. The intensity of the erupting colors temporally blinded O’Brien and he flicked up the darkener on his goggles.
Yelps of astonishment turned into howls coming over the radio. O’Brien could hardly separate individual fighter pilots’ voices. “Bloody hell!” English words mixed with other European and Asian profanities as the horrifying sight filled O’Brien’s screens.
A flaming monstrosity had yawned. The huge mouth spread and a stream of shimmering yellow gas rolled out like a licking tongue to sample the ships.
Behind him, he heard Harahan scramble into the gunnery seat.
He was swinging the weapon in a spread pattern with the search beams on high. Only there was nothing to fire at except the crazy colored fissure blocked by their own fighters that were being drawn into it. An open doorway into Hell was sucking the planes in like a monster relishing a meal.
O’Brien tried to pull his ship back but it was moving in fast-forward. He yelled rapid commands into the C&C system. He was trying to keep his voice steady but the pandemonium he was hearing in the background from the dying pilots and Moonbase Information Control Center was not helping.
Communications had patched them through instantly but the verbal instructions were near useless.
“Jesus Christ! Andy, they’re breaking up!”
Harahan didn’t have to tell him. He could see pieces of their companion ships being spit back out of the yawning gap. The harder he tried to hold back the stronger the pull became and his own ship was shuddering as if determined to shake itself apart. Desperately he fought to maintain control but he knew the ship couldn’t withstand this tug of war for long.
He heard Harahan scream. In the surveillance mirror he saw his friend flung from the gunnery seat. The pressure must have been too much and the safety belt snapped.
Harahan’s //FU// flashed on the SPM board.
O'Brien reversed the thrust sending his engine drive into forward to ease the stress and allowed his ship to be drawn deeper in that gaping mouth. Was it fear or despair that caused the warmth in his eyes? Let it be quick, the prayer never left his mouth. Something that had been ripped loose in the struggle slammed into O’Brien’s back and he gagged with the instant pain…
2
“Go on. Get too close, ya pain in the ass. The flames ‘ll turn ya into a ‘Crispy Critter’. ” Jess O’Brien, who had finally reached the big old 21, danced around the for-real camp fire she’d built after telling six-year-old Andy it was illegal. Her arms were upright and bent at the elbow while her fingers, spread like claws, wiggled in the air. Leaning over the fire she pretended to stalk him as she giggled in her ‘Little girl’ way causing her son to laugh out loud…
Suddenly he was gripped by fear. He was twisting, screaming, the fire was reaching out to grab him…
It felt like his body was wrapped in rubber bands, squeezing his head, constricting his chest, cutting circulation from his limbs. Each pain was separate but each shrieked at its own peak as O’Brien struggled towards consciousness. I’m alive was a sudden shock.
The internal atmosphere was off line. He fumbled at the restrains that held him in the plot’s seat. He finally got his body free and tumbled on to the less confining floor of the ship grateful for his Gravsuit.
Colin Harahan squatted a few feet away rubbing a darkening bruise on his right cheek. A trickle of blood showed at the corner of his mouth; with the artificial gravity failing it was unable to drip. Only the regulation Gravsuit kept his body from floating while the oxygen blowing into his nose from a connecting tube to the tank located behind his head kept him breathing. There was the remnant of a surprised frown on his face and O’Brien determined they’d both come to at nearly the same instant.
His co-pilot, however, had activated the chem-spray. O’Brien crawled to the outpouring vapors to inhale of pain alleviating drugs.
“Anything broken?”
Harahan groaned his, “Nope”. Then said, “Damn, I’m hungry.”
“24/7.” O’Brien chuckled but it lacked mirth. His fuzzy view settled on the digi-chron prominent on the wall--a half a day had past. Sometime during his struggle with the unknown he’d turned to manual override so the engines were silent. The ship hung dead in space. Only the emergency system was functioning.
His air’s staleness announced the oxygen levels were low. Breathing was the first concern so he forced himself to stand, to stagger to the controls, to bring the main computer back on line.
A restored search pattern advertised their predicament. “We’re inside that f’ing anomaly.” Harahan was gazing up towards the bubble roof as he handed O’Brien an energy bar. “Sure wish this was a steak.”
“Food’s the least of our worries. I passed out before I engaged the back up systems, so I have no idea how far we’ve come.”
“Don’t rightly matter. We just have to turn around and go back.”
“Logical, pal, only one problem I see.” O’Brien was studying the maximum view screen as he munched on the energy bar. “Something outside has a hold on this baby. The engines are purring like a luv but she’s not pulling free.”
“What the hell!” Harahan initiated a closer sweep by the search beams to study their immediate surroundings. “Looks like we landed in a mess of seaweed. Whatever the shit is, some long ugly tentacles are wrapped around us.”
“I shot a probe into the mass. No life readings, in fact no activity at all. Whatever destroyed the fighters and drew us in has stopped functioning. At least for now. ”
“Could be a timed devise? It sat idle while we monitored it for thirty-six hours before it activated the first time. Could be it will do the same again and allow us a breather to get the hell out.”
Harahan knew as well as he did that one of them had to go outside and try to cut the ship free.
“We’ll toss a coin,” Harahan said. He did. It spun in the air then dropped with a ping on the control panel. He covered it with his palm and grinned. "Andy, boy, heads, I win."
Busy at the radio, trying unsuccessfully to re-establish communication with Moon Base, O’Brien hadn't seen the coin drop. He argued to toss again. Harahan refused.
"Hell, man, I'm elected. Just don't you take off and leave my ass hanging on that umbilical cord. We get this baby turned around we got maybe a rat's chance. Hang loose lad." Harahan began to suit up.
His tight fitting Gravsuit was exchanged for the loose and bulky space-walking outfit. An artificial bubblehead encased the human one and Harahan’s distorted features showed beneath the faceplate. “Remember the rules—I get her free and the action starts before I can get inside—you get the hell out of here.” He didn’t wait for an answer.
From the lights on the space suit O’Brien could watch as his co-pilot moved from the airlock to the front of the ship. Then the search beam remained steady on him as he began to study their predicament.
Through the speaker Harahan’s voice sounded mechanical. “Shit’s not really black; up close it’s sorta ruby-red. Kind of rubbery.” He hadn’t started to cut yet and was holding a section up for inspection. “Nothing this precise ever grew naturally.” He was examining the surface from which the tubercles extended indicating here and there for O’Brien. “This wall is gritty and solid but not like any substance I ever saw. Too soft to be metal—doesn’t have the smoothness of plastic. Snot-like crap is oozing from the connecting junctions. My guess, it is some kind of lubricant. Don’t need to wager, an intelligence built this whole contraption.”
“Okay, don’t get elaborate, let’s leave something for the scientists. Can you cut enough away so we can pull free?”
“Weird shit.” Harahan activated the laser torch. Its bright steady light showed on the view screen in front of O’Brien. Safe flame. In a rush of memory his earlier dream came back to him. Damn, Jess was always doing stupid things like that when he was a kid. He’d learned in later years, his mother caused fifty acres of forests to burn that day. But she’d carried him to safety without so much as singed hair. “We’re just lucky bastards, for us there’s no black or white just a million shades of gray.” She assured him was the reason she never got caught.
“God Damn!” Harahan’s voice halted his thoughts.
“What’s the matter?”
“That snotty goop is squirting out of the cut like a ruptured water hose—it’s all over me. SON OF A BITCH---”
“COLIN!”
Systems were screeching, his ship was bucking and O’Brien was flung back and forth in his harness. He yelled orders but the computer turned deaf. He tried to override to manual, the console ignored his fumbling fingers. He saw the stream of pale gas streak through the blackness when the unbiblical cord ripped free from the ship. For an instant he imagined he saw Colin’s face behind the foggy faceplate begging him to help. It wasn’t possible.
“Jesus! Colin! There’s nothing I can do.”
There were several cracks in the hide of the ship and O’Brien knew his atmosphere was escaping. The chem-spray camouflaged the pain but didn’t hide the sight of his own injuries. His fingers were frozen and useless. Regulation two; never remove your gloves. Andy’s stupid rule number one—don’t follow regulations if they get in the way.
The artificial gravity was gone. Blood and tissue were hanging in the air above the console where his fingers now lay frozen and useless. What could he do? With two ripped off hands, what could a man do. He watched the tomb of Colin’s space suit drifting. Colin was dead. They were together, always together, now they died alone.
“Annie, I've got to leave you baby.” How many times had he told his child that? She never cried, not Annie.
‘Look, dad, for once will you get back on time. Opening games this week and you know how Gran hates to sit through even one.’
Jesus, he didn’t want to die like this. God, he hadn’t really lived yet. He felt scalding tears mix with the blood in his eyes . . .Annie.
The cherubic face was smiling at her daddy. Her hands were thrust outward beckoning. He reached with the bloody stumps of his wrists towards her...she just kept floating further away....
Then came the pain. The gut wrenching agony that sliced his flesh and bone like a million knives, while over and over he heard his own screams. “Who are you? What the hell are you! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
Author notes
It is an 341 page novel and it needs some polishing.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 37 of 37
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Hey Geri,
Sounds just like the dialogue I use whenever I'm in my spaceship. lol Your imagination has created some very believable characters and likely conversation. The dialogue sounds just like one would imagine a group of military guys would sound, with the banter and insults. Great job as always.
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Excellent
i like the story line you sure have the info on space craft.
The pain suffered by the men is amost tangable, I had my feet off the floor !
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Love chapter 2, the tension really is gripping. Love the dramatic ending, can't wait till next chapter
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Hi, again. I never really cut this into chapters and often because the chapters are sooo long I just post them in several files.
When I make the next draft--I'll start doing that.
Thanks for the nice comments.
Geri
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thanks and I do hope you keep reading. If you spot any mistakes please point them out.
Geri
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i like it so much!
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Different from your prolog but still very good.
first only a few small things I noticed. I know you say it needs some polishing so hopefully this isn't too annoying
"Holidays and one weekend a mouth home visits." s/b month weird that the first time I read this I did see "month" but I glanced back up and saw it was "mouth"
"He fumbled at the restrains that held him in the plot’s seat." shouldn't that be restraints?
"Busy at the radio, trying unsuccessfully to re-establish communication with Moon Base" everywhere else you have moonbase as one word.
I don't quite understand how his hands got ripped off. I understand the ship was ripping apart but there's no where that you said his fingers were either frozen to something, thus got ripped off, or something hit him ripping them off. It's a very minor point, but it confused me. It seems the action sequences you do leave off a bit of detail. Depending on the type of story you're going for, that might be ok.
It would be helpful if you separated the flashback scenes somehow .
I like stories with good character development and you certainly have that here. You're not heavy on the technical details which is good. You've got a really nice balance going on here. It's interesting enough to keep me reading and there's promise of some deep thinking ahead which is great! I'm enjoying it.
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Sorry for not saying thanks sooner.
I'll check over the questions and suggestions when I pick this up again for the next draft
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Geri
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Enjoyable For the Most Part
A captivating piece which starts out well and has a very nice flow, causing me to feel entertained and captivated. The South African personification that emerged from the radio was original and stylistically well orchestrated. Your incorporation of the UN was current and engaging. I enjoyed your piece, absent of the "unnecessary" statement of the Messiah's name in vain.
Well done !
Sabbay
beginning: 4.
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Very Nice
I like it a lot, nice story so far and a very good main character, and the background characters were pretty good which is nice to see, as often people neglect background (doomed) characters (myself included).
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this is a seriously awesome piece of sci-fi. It's generally a litle more hard-core than the lighter fantasy I enjoy, but I read it all the way through. You have a terrific style of writing, characters that come across as real and dynamic and full of thier own problems. it was truly a fun read.
were they eaten by something? I wanted to know more just as this was ending. is our main character dead or does he somehow survive despite all the odds?
i'm gonna have to go ahead and find the rest of this tale, because I am that curious.
thanks for having something so entertaining to read on here. sometimes I go searching for a fun read and wind up turning off my computer in defeat, but with this story, that didn't happen today. -
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This was a nice surprise this morning
. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.
Actually you have read the opening chapters of a 400-page novel. I needed a Science Fiction story to enter a group, so I used this. The response wasn't the greatest and I need editing on my work--so I set it aside.
Now that I’ve left the science fiction group this is starting to draw interest. I’m so glad you enjoyed it; perhaps I will start posting more chapters.
I shouldn’t tell you this
—Anderson lives. He has to narrator the story.
Geri
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Wow! This is so fast paced and had a lot of amazing descriptions and in depth information in it. I loved the concept of this and will be reading more as time permits. Lately I don't get to read as much as I would like to unfortunately. That ending made me really wonder what happens next! Oh I can't wait to find out. I loved how you ended this chapter it really leaves the reader wondering what kind of creature this is.
~Joann
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Joann thanks for reading Shades of Gray. I worked on it for a long time; it’s a 400-page novel. I was trying to get some help editing it. I haven’t had time to get back to it. for awhile
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In fact as much as I love science fiction, I’m tied up with mysteries lately
.
Geri
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Great job! I wasn't sure bout the ending, but other than that it was awesome!
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Intense!
You built the scene up well, dropping us neatly into time and place right next to the characters, which made the eventual disaster that befell them all the more gripping. The description of what happened to them had me literally wide-eyed and even going so far as to shudder a little.
If I had any advice, it would primarily be to avoid info-dumping. Gradual introductions into appearance and such take longer but achieve, in my opinion, and more professional end result to the standard "There was a girl and she had blue eyes and brown hair and lived on a farm."
I don't think the deaths of the introduced characters detracted from the story, perhaps due to the quickness of the chapters. Many books like to start with a prologue-esque thing in which it is the deaths that start the whole thing off. Heck, one of my favourite sci-fi authors starts a novel with "Wescott knew he was dead." xD
I realise this is on hiatus, but I'm sure every little review is welcomed I do hope you pick it up again one day.
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Really appreciate your reading and commenting.
I am curious; did you read the prologue first? An agent suggested that I create a prologue. His problem among others—sigh-- was that I seemed to kill off the two main characters at the start.
This of course is not the case. The story has to be told in a human voice, with human emotions and an Earthling’s standard of conduct; therefore it is in Anderson’s POV.
I do wish you had pointed out which parts you felt was info dumping. It makes it so much easier to correct in the next draft. Lazy me, is always pleading for more help.
Thanks,
Geri
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No, I just stumbled across this story floating around, I didn't realise there was a prologue attached as well. I do like the rationale that Anderson's POV is needed, and even agree; it simply wouldn't be as emotional if it were told from some detached positioning.
The first paragraph is what I was thinking of most when I mentioned info-dumping, in that we were told in one go what Anderson looked like - seeing as he dies a chapter later, it begs the question as to whether description is required at all xD Readers don't always need to be guided step by step, so I find I can save some work by not detailing the extraneous characters beyond what is needed and letting their minds fill in the rest.
I hope this doesn't sound pretensious >> It can all come down to a matter of opinion, of course, and that is simply mine. -
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I do wish you’d fished out my writing sooner. Honest opinions, and people who take time to answer questions are important contacts, even when I don’t agree.
You have been on the site since March 2007? I’m surprised this is our first encounter. Here’s hoping it won’t be our last—smile.
Since this is a 380 page novel, I felt it was important to establish O’Brien’s looks and personality at the start. I need to give the reader a chance to empathize with him, if I expect them to remain with him while he blunders through all these situations.
However I see the logic in what you are saying and will keep it in mind for the next draft.
Geri
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(I spelt pretentious wrong. How ironic.)
In all fairness it could be to do with the fact I haven't read the rest of the works in this series yet. I glanced over the prologue and basically went "Oh hey, it's him! ...is he not dead? Ahaha, oops."
There's always that balance between too much and not enough - I've seen cases where a little info-dumping would be nice, after all. And it wasn't really a problem, I just always feel compelled to offer some kind of advice. *Nosy* 8D
I will note that I feel deeply inclined to check out the rest of your writings :3
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i like the detail uyou put into the story straight form the start. i like the way it never got too over the top when discribing things but you still used enough to paint a piture. well done!
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What a nice surprise to have someone pick this up again. Thanks so much for the encouraging comments. This novel has been sort set aside while I concentrate on my ‘Crime Stories’.
I hope to get back to Science Fiction and Shades of Gray soon.
Geri
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impressed!
I loved this! not bad at all!
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Thank you for reading.
Geri
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A solid performance. The characters are well established, and feel alive.
The lack of resolution to the whole issue of the rift thingy is regrettable, of course. But I suppose that's just a feature of the exerpt, and handled in the complete version.
The early part, before stuff starts happening, feels sort of lax. Maybe the small talk over the radio could be cut down a little? It sort of drags on.
But anyway, good stuff on the whole. -
Good story
I liked the characters you created. The dialog was convincing. I think you killed both of them off too soon. Maybe you could keep one alive long enough to solve the mystery of the thing in space. The story cuts off short without explaining the ending.
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I always look forward to your reading and the fine comments. This time your really have me stumped—and you’re not the first ‘Critter’ either to mention I killed off the two characters too soon.
(Geri hitting head on wall) This ending hook is apparently not working. ‘Then came the pain. The gut wrenching agony that sliced his flesh and bone like a million knives, while over and over he heard his own screams. “Who are you? What the hell are you! Ah! Ah! Ah!” ‘
Anderson heard his own screams??? Since he’s the POV character, and there are three hundred some odd pages to go, he’s either alive or in Hell.
I do appreciate your calling this to my attention, I’m going to have work that out before I post chapter three.
Geri
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Where does the story line go now?
Who’s left? Jess, Ann, ????.
Everyone else is dead.
Where does the story line go now?
Some setup for the characters who take over next should have been done before now.
beginning: 3, language: 3, plot: 3, ending: 2, dialog: 3, characters: 3.
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Hi Lou, welcome to SW. I was just going to take a look at your page. Gary told me he gave you the scoop on ‘Herself’. Hope he wasn’t too brutal—grin.
As for your question, which was very good, “Where does the story line go now?”—you are assuming Anderson is dead. If that were the case, the plot would go nowhere—right.
Since this is in Anderson’s POV, I do hope the reader will go on to chapter three just to discover who picks up the narrative.
My chapters are always too long. Makes it difficult to attract critters. So I really appreciate your reading and commenting.
Geri
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Geri,
Shouldn’t you give the reader some clue that would insure he/she turns the page (or invokes the file) to take him/her to the next chapter?
Lou -
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Morning Lou, are you re-reading? Nice compliment—smile.
I usually resort to hooks, if I can. Are you referring to this chapter?
(over and over he heard his own screams. “Who are you? What the hell are you! Ah! Ah! Ah!” ) This didn’t make you wonder who or what he was screaming at?
I’ll look it over again.
Geri
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Good
I really liked this. It played a wonderful movie in my head. I hope I will find time to read more. Did a lot of skip reading and could still feel the emotion coming through, especially about his daughter. -
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Thanks for the comment. I do hope you find time to read more--smile
Geri
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//Take it up with the WC goons, pal. Or resign. You could always get a cushy job piloting exec butts. //
you know, if you read WC in the British way that job description is really kinda funny :-)
Random thought about the lunar dust in every orifice....in actuality if there were no space suits worn the dust would slice right through our skin tearing through our lungs like glass...that's probably why it is so hard for them to get money to try to start planning a bubble colony on the moon...on top of everything else, of course. OK, done rambling now...back to reading.
two words-->word
At five eight--> foot (I thought it was time at first
weekend a mouth-->month
WC, TC, AF, LAA, PNR, SPM, FU, SAS a whole lot of acronyms. WC you give something to relate it to so it's easy to remember, AF in the military and airplane lingo is easy to remember and FU I know that one! As to the rest, I would write it out or come up with more things to pepper in to make it easier for the reader to remember. The first mention, in a context I can usually handle, but unless I've seen it enough times when I see it again later I've already forgotten what it meant (or never knew) which gets annoying when the reader is already thrown into a whole new world with all kinds of futuristic things going on.
I do like and appreciate the great level of detail in creating this world. I like the bits that make it seem more real like "he flicked up the darkener on his goggles." and how the AF wanted multicultural teams and the part about the schools for the kids--scary!
through instantly(,) but
Nice transition to chapter two, I like it, especially as I was missing a lot of the character thought and feeling in chapter one since I was dulged with so much information!
I’m alive was a sudden shock.-->Being?
chuckled(,) but-->chuckle butt (nope, just kidding)
a half a day had past-->half a day had passed
announced (that) the oxygen
chapter two gets better as it goes on, good flow and suspense, gets me interested in the characters more
For an instant he imagined he saw Colin’s face behind the foggy faceplate begging him to help. It wasn’t possible. (reminds me of the movie, Mars i think it was...where they all die horribly except the one is left on the surface and one in the ship)
Well, honestly now I like that guy and then you killed him of just lickey-split like that! And what's up with the other one, did you kill him off too? in chapter 2?
~Six -
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Crit; Shades of Gray
you know, if you read WC in the British way that job description is really kinda funny :-) (Geri clapping, You got it!)
Did I kill them both off in the second chapter—Oh well, this is in the third chapter. Anderson woke with a start. It was here. Oh god . . . not already. He saw a hazy view of the creature moving above the clear cover of his cage. He blinked his eyes. At least he could still do that. He could use his voice for all the good it did him. He could cry. He could scream. In every other way, he was paralyzed. He stared wide-eyed into a dense fog. The pain was gone for a while but the paralysis was worse. The pain allowed him to focus. To consider he might be alive. Without the pain he wasn’t sure. What was the bastard up to now? What caused its laughter this time? Was he blubbering like a baby? Had he messed himself? It sucked not ever knowing when you pissed.
Maybe if I could find some breaks that made sense, I could cut this chapter enough to post sections.
Thanks for reading and commenting, and finding my goofs. That's a great help.
Geri
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A Really GRIMM fairy tale!
Gee! Well...it certainly was written on a professional level. Nothing to pick apart there...but, again, at least for me...a real longee! Well done...believable, the characters credible, the dialogue sounded good, the situations buyable. But...redemption? Hmm! I'm just glad I wasn't aboard with this outfit!
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Crit Shades of Gray
Gary, aha gee, all those nice statements and applause. I really appreciate you reading and commenting on my work. I understood your reluctance to commit to a long read, and I will try to cut the chapters into handball size in the future—or take my marbles and go home (grin). Sorry about that, just a danged habit.
Geri
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