Tuesday, October 3, 2006

MORE ART UP. . . AND THE FIRST CHAPTER. . .
Welp, I said I would put it up. . . and I did. Kinda long, though. . . and hey, theO actually put up the CENSORED version of my pic that accompanied the HUMILIATION story. . . that's cool.

Anyway. . . *deep breath*. . .here goes. . .
FEEDBACK PLEASE!!! sikaurai is testing her marketability factor, before she shells out nine-hundred dollars for her Xlibris contract. . .


The planet of Azsynthe loomed ahead, a softly glowing orb of various shades of blue and pink. Through the silence of space, the planet spun with an almost ominous presence, shrouded in vast silence. The clouds that hovered just beyond its atmosphere shimmered brilliantly; the infamous planet Azsynthe now seemed like an ancient trap to weary travelers, like a celestial siren in a pool of eternity, spreading arms wide for unfortunate spacefarers.

The small figure at the helm of the space barge tapped her chin as she contemplated the white light surrounding the planet’s atmosphere. Not close enough to orbit just yet, but close enough to communicate with the planet’s ground control. Her fingers massaged the controls, disturbed by the warning bells in her head.

“What is the problem with me?” she asked herself, staring still straight ahead. The planet gave no heed to her ambivalence. “We need to dock with Azsynthe, but we’ve all heard the stories. If they don’t give us amnesty, my crew is lost.” She exhaled, and the loss of breath sounded like a whirlwind to her ears in the protected containment of vinyl space gear. Finally, she snapped her head alert and pressed the control on the panel to her left.

“Captain, we’re attempting orbit around Azsynthe.”

“Good,” came the confident response from her helm, the voice cracking against static. “Stand your course and open communications with the Deis Firuge.”

“Yes sir”.

She shook her head uncertainly as she removed her headgear. She leaned closer to the communications console before, narrowing her eyes as she struggled to remember all that she had heard about the planet Azsynthe. As far she knew, the planet is a subsidiary world of the Cairos Quadrant, same as her home planet. The Cairos, a spatial collective under the ownership of the Mother Council For Intergalactic Unity, had recently declared Azsynthe under trading boycott. She shook her head at the thought of the Mother Council, a superpower of undeniable omniscience. They control innumerable worlds within many galaxies, monopolizing regulations on all interplanetary real estate and resources, as well as intergalactic trade, communications, and transit. But just as they regulate all functions of interplanetary existence, many of their actions as of late have been raising questions among the general public. Among them was the quarantine of Azsynthe. Until recently, the pink and blue planet was well known for its possession of many flourishing cultures and beautiful landscapes—an obvious asset to the Mother Council.

The switchboard lit up in response as she leaned closer to the communications panel before her.

“Quadrant C4-Azsynth ground control”, her voice at once lowered, and became more ensured, at last in control, as she sank into the depths of her command. “Quadrant C4, Azsynth Ground, please acknowledge. This is Barge C14 of Quadrant 4, the Maiden Medusa, on course to the planet Andriann. Please acknowledge.”

She inhaled as she stared hard at the sight of the ominous planet before her. It loomed massively through the sterile view of her ship’s helm porthole. Radio silence was the only response for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a crackle of static startled her to attention. She realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.

“This is Azsynthe Ground,” came the crisp reply from the helm. “You are in unauthorized orbit around quarantined airspace. We respectfully request you to break course.”

“We are on a routinely scheduled drop-off mission to planet Andriann,” she responded firmly, trying to quell the rising panic in her heart. “We have experienced technical damage to our aft containment computers, which have caused the barge to purge fuel. We are now perilously close to empty, according to our gauges, and we need to re-fuel. We respectively wish to dock for refueling, and we will be on our way.”

“That will be a negative, Maiden Medusa of Quadrant 4,” came the ground’s response. “As per the orders of the Mother Counsel of the Quadrant, we are on high quarantine alert. No interspatial travelers may breach the parameters of orbiting airspace. Refusal to acknowledge the wishes of the Counsel may result in force.”

“We have eleven crewmembers on board!” Panic gave way to rage. She slammed her hands against the control panel as she pounded the captain’s PA communicator. The switchboard beeped a warning. “You can’t refuse us the right to land! You would be breaking treaty! There is no other place for us to go! Our life support systems have only days to go, and the nearest refueling station is in the next solar system. You’re condemning us to death!”

“Once again, negative, Barge C14,” the helm responded soullessly. The voice of Azsynth’s Ground Control did not quaver, and offered no remorse. “ Let us remind you that the breach of quarantined airspace results in force, possibly resulting in termination of your crew. If you do not break orbit, we will be forced to remove you. Consider this your last warning, as authorized by the Mother Counsel.”

A loud crack from the panel snapped the small spacefarer out of her seat. She realized then that the link had been terminated. She shook in fury as she contemplated the thought that an entire world had just turned it’s back on her plight, offering her no second thought as she would, brushing away a fly.

She stood there, her silhouette outlined by the glowing silence of space. Seconds passed away like hours, as she stared ahead, her arms folded across her vinyl-clad chest. Finally, she pressed a finger hard against the comm.

A tired voice raised the shadows of the room. “Captain?” she hailed the old man in calm resolution. “Did you hear?”

“Yes, dear,” the captain responded in a hail of static. “You have your orders.”

She nodded firmly. At her hands, the ship dipped smoothly and dove forward, silently, toward the looming planet. The words to an old song lilted through her mind, Why, you could have been a star. . . .

she hummed thoughtlessly to herself as two small one-man ships broke the atmosphere, knifing through the vacuum in a beeline straight for her helm. Her switchboard lit up in warning sirens, but she ignored them, humming cheerlessly still. The last thing to enter her mind as the ship broke apart under the force of the patrol ships’ aggression, was “It’s haunted . . . ”

The night’s sky erupted in noiseless explosions, casting shadows on Azsynth’s glowing atmosphere.


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