Awesomo
Apr 29th, 2007, 06:56 PM
Part I:
To the left and right, bombs, mines, mortars, and anything else that could possibly explode exploited their function with great fury; If explosions weren’t ringing in your ears, it’s because you’d gone deaf; the protection provided by the Crew-Carriers and mid-battlefield latrines could only last a soldier so long before they were ejected back into the fields of destruction, mayhem, and most profusely, death.
Although that was somewhat exaggerated, that’s exactly what was missing on this relatively peaceful day on Death Valley (No connection to that really hot hole in the ground in the U.S.), the aptly named, wide strip of barren fields, filled with the remains of waves and waves of two relentless super-powers of the galaxy fighting over a newly discovered planet, nicknamed, Mars Omega, a large planet, slightly larger in diameter than two Mars’ and a soil very rich in nutrients and precious metals; as well, it had lots of what the galaxy, or this particular war-bound solar system, needed most: land.
Back on the field however, there was little commotion, even the dust had settled from the day before and the random, faulty mine that exploded in the distance sounded like a rather annoying mocking-warbird to the new meat that was landing on the planet, via Crew-Carrier of Mothma, the milital headquarters of the first super power, Which, in English, is also pronounced Mothma, but spelled in an archaic Greek alphabet that would amount to something along the lines of Cranberry Vodka in modern-day’s Terrainian American.
Two particular pieces of meat were wondering what happened to all the commotion. We'll call the taller, curly, brown haired piece of meat Chris, and although that sounds very unhealthy, no one in his presence has been able to call him ugly; the six inch shorter one, who we will call Blake, had a bright blond, slicked back style and was currently talking to C-man.
"Are you sure there's a war going on?", Inquired Blake to anyone in particular as he looked out one of the octangular windows of Mothma's 3rd Legion Crew-Carrier, a hulking mass of interplanetary transport ship that looked like a large, crimson black tug boat, minus the six, fifty ton ion cannons on each side and the Photon-Ejector Thrust Turbines (PETTs) which propelled it's hulking mass through space, sitting comfortably on the back end of the ship.
"I thought this planet was supposed to be important." Declared Blake after no one had taken notice of his initial outburst.
"Who knows?", Asked Chris of rhetorical input, "Maybe we'll get shot down in an ambush as soon as we land,"
"To which Blake sighed, "If only... By any chance, did you bring something to eat?"
"At one point yes, but interstellar travel really does take it out of you, so from about three hours ago, no." Chris replied, patting his stomach, which then replied by growling at him; Blake's stomach thought this was a good idea and did the same.
Blake, currently eighteen years in age was enrolled in a military academy with Chris when they were just seven years old on Earth, due to Blake being an orphan and Chris's parent's hatred for both of them. So for eleven years, Blake had done nothing but follow a schedule of sixteen hours of chores, combat training, weapon exercises, and a recently added program that was raised for the new war grounds at Mars Omega, mid-battlefield latrine retreat tactics. None-the-less, Blake had expected war, and attacks from all sides. Why had the violence stopped now, just as soon as they were arriving?
Crew-Carrier of the 3rd legion had made it's quiet docking at Mothra's base of operations and was currently being checked in. This lengthy process meant that Blake and Chris, as well at the other 5,998 foot soldiers in the 3rd legion now had to wait it out.
"So Blake, are you finally ready for those years of training to pay off?" Asked Chris as he nudged his be-hungered comrade.
"Er, Bleh, I'm waiting for those masticating skills that I've been working on to pay off." ,Responded Blake in a voice that demanded pity, "That reminds me of something."
"Really, now what has that shiny, blond head of yours pulled up?" Chris asked with enough pity in his voice to dampen a match in a dark, humid cave.
"Well, I remembered something I once read," Began Blake, as the nostalgia returned to his shiny, blond memory banks.
"Remember the old stories, like if you eat your enemy's heart, you gain their courage?"
"Of course, did you want to try that out?" Asked Chris, who gathered up the energy to turn his head to look at Blake, who was still looking out the window; Interstellar travel really does take it out of you.
"Nah, I was just thinking that, the only courage you gain when eating your enemy's heart, is the courage to eat your next enemy's heart, and then begins a vicious cycle of what I can only describe as a cardiovascular buffet."
The two went silent and began to ponder upon this, they were quite bored and quite hungry, and needed something to take their minds off the latter, of course, this wasn’t needed as the explosion that was about to occur would take their minds off their stomachs; we’ll get into this later.
“What kind of maniacal retard would even eat a heart anyway,” Asked Chris, who in the silence had decided to get up and move around through the long hallway of the 3rd Legion’s Crew Carrier. The silence that ensued this time was only broken by a series of consecutive cracks only measurable on the Richter’s Scale, by Chris’s fingers, elbows, neck, back, and pelvis; to which Chris, who was currently in shock from what he thought was his body finally turning against him, responded with sitting (falling) into the nearest, starboard seat. Next to him to his left, sat a bald, giggling soldier who finally gained enough composure to ask:
“Hey dude, you alright?”
Chris was going to reply with something amounting to “Yeah” but in the process, his jaw shifted slightly to the left and let loose and equally audible POP!
”AAAH, MY SELF!”
Any composure Chris's bald ally had gained hid itself back away and was replaced by a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"Psh, this never happened in the movies..." Chris grumbled to himself, followed by looking unhopefully up, which happened to be exactly where the where room 23’s .holo-clock was located, and Chris came upon a starling realization that angered him:
"WHEN ARE WE GETTING OFF THIS SHIP!? IT'S BEEN TEN HOURS!" , Chris exclaimed with ligaments a-flailing, normal trans-planet travel didn’t take this long.
Though everyone else in the room was still laughing at his earlier joint joint attack and offered him so pity; the only one who was not laughing Blake, who was still preoccupied with looking out with window, which with the current direction, facing away from the carnage of past days, had a breath taking view of the peaceful side of Mars Omega. Blake took to heart the saying, "The perma-grass is always redder on the other side." Though this statement was redundant for the perma-grass on Mars Omega always got redder as you went around the planet, it was the main way of telling longitude, though a good metaphor to inspire hope.
Chris, realizing his predicament, settled with staying silent, and looked unhopefully down.
(part of) Part II :
There is a strange race of beings in this universe that have come to gain power over their domain. They’ve harnessed the power of pure though and mind and can focus their energy on their surrounds, ultimately bridging the gap between mind and matter. It wouldn’t take a meta-neurophysician with an Alpha Ph. D. to imagine that they can do some really cool stuff.
These beings were governed by an oligarchy of four. The people called them kings though they had an equal say in pressing matters in times of peace and war. They could just do a lot more cooer stuff than the other citizens. All the beings are human in appearance and coincidentally spoke in a language similar to ours. The kings however, were slightly redder in color and, like their people, could sustain homeostasis in many different environments, just a lot more extreme, even if they were put in the smoldering world of Triton IV, which had volcanoes so hot that the mile high mountains around them collapsed and creased back into taller mountains as planet-shaking earthquakes met the rain of fire and sulfur from the skies; even the Zero chambers on their home world, which produced and maintained barely-higher-than-absolute-zero temperatures were withstand able to them. Though these were fun recreational activities, the kings tended to stay within the vicinity of their four large towers that cut the sky into four equal pieces overlaying four equal provinces of land. The kings called these provinces home even though the world of theirs was under their control and relatively stable as a whole. The kings and their people were of peace and content, since the evolution of their powers aroused, they spent most of their time honing their powers with the people and making miniature worlds to keep in their backyards, though this was usually a joint effort between the four kings.
The world they resided in looked as a malevolent artist had taken the bright red that symbolized love and brushed it across the canvas of the planet, accenting the red with intricate patterns of translucent blue to fill the vast rivers and seas which were splotched across the planet in the form and shining, clear water. This was quite the conundrum on their planet, for as clear and completely pure the water was, there was nothing in it to make it shine. The people called themselves Globulians and their planet they called Globula. Globula was slightly larger in diameter than two Mars’.
To the left and right, bombs, mines, mortars, and anything else that could possibly explode exploited their function with great fury; If explosions weren’t ringing in your ears, it’s because you’d gone deaf; the protection provided by the Crew-Carriers and mid-battlefield latrines could only last a soldier so long before they were ejected back into the fields of destruction, mayhem, and most profusely, death.
Although that was somewhat exaggerated, that’s exactly what was missing on this relatively peaceful day on Death Valley (No connection to that really hot hole in the ground in the U.S.), the aptly named, wide strip of barren fields, filled with the remains of waves and waves of two relentless super-powers of the galaxy fighting over a newly discovered planet, nicknamed, Mars Omega, a large planet, slightly larger in diameter than two Mars’ and a soil very rich in nutrients and precious metals; as well, it had lots of what the galaxy, or this particular war-bound solar system, needed most: land.
Back on the field however, there was little commotion, even the dust had settled from the day before and the random, faulty mine that exploded in the distance sounded like a rather annoying mocking-warbird to the new meat that was landing on the planet, via Crew-Carrier of Mothma, the milital headquarters of the first super power, Which, in English, is also pronounced Mothma, but spelled in an archaic Greek alphabet that would amount to something along the lines of Cranberry Vodka in modern-day’s Terrainian American.
Two particular pieces of meat were wondering what happened to all the commotion. We'll call the taller, curly, brown haired piece of meat Chris, and although that sounds very unhealthy, no one in his presence has been able to call him ugly; the six inch shorter one, who we will call Blake, had a bright blond, slicked back style and was currently talking to C-man.
"Are you sure there's a war going on?", Inquired Blake to anyone in particular as he looked out one of the octangular windows of Mothma's 3rd Legion Crew-Carrier, a hulking mass of interplanetary transport ship that looked like a large, crimson black tug boat, minus the six, fifty ton ion cannons on each side and the Photon-Ejector Thrust Turbines (PETTs) which propelled it's hulking mass through space, sitting comfortably on the back end of the ship.
"I thought this planet was supposed to be important." Declared Blake after no one had taken notice of his initial outburst.
"Who knows?", Asked Chris of rhetorical input, "Maybe we'll get shot down in an ambush as soon as we land,"
"To which Blake sighed, "If only... By any chance, did you bring something to eat?"
"At one point yes, but interstellar travel really does take it out of you, so from about three hours ago, no." Chris replied, patting his stomach, which then replied by growling at him; Blake's stomach thought this was a good idea and did the same.
Blake, currently eighteen years in age was enrolled in a military academy with Chris when they were just seven years old on Earth, due to Blake being an orphan and Chris's parent's hatred for both of them. So for eleven years, Blake had done nothing but follow a schedule of sixteen hours of chores, combat training, weapon exercises, and a recently added program that was raised for the new war grounds at Mars Omega, mid-battlefield latrine retreat tactics. None-the-less, Blake had expected war, and attacks from all sides. Why had the violence stopped now, just as soon as they were arriving?
Crew-Carrier of the 3rd legion had made it's quiet docking at Mothra's base of operations and was currently being checked in. This lengthy process meant that Blake and Chris, as well at the other 5,998 foot soldiers in the 3rd legion now had to wait it out.
"So Blake, are you finally ready for those years of training to pay off?" Asked Chris as he nudged his be-hungered comrade.
"Er, Bleh, I'm waiting for those masticating skills that I've been working on to pay off." ,Responded Blake in a voice that demanded pity, "That reminds me of something."
"Really, now what has that shiny, blond head of yours pulled up?" Chris asked with enough pity in his voice to dampen a match in a dark, humid cave.
"Well, I remembered something I once read," Began Blake, as the nostalgia returned to his shiny, blond memory banks.
"Remember the old stories, like if you eat your enemy's heart, you gain their courage?"
"Of course, did you want to try that out?" Asked Chris, who gathered up the energy to turn his head to look at Blake, who was still looking out the window; Interstellar travel really does take it out of you.
"Nah, I was just thinking that, the only courage you gain when eating your enemy's heart, is the courage to eat your next enemy's heart, and then begins a vicious cycle of what I can only describe as a cardiovascular buffet."
The two went silent and began to ponder upon this, they were quite bored and quite hungry, and needed something to take their minds off the latter, of course, this wasn’t needed as the explosion that was about to occur would take their minds off their stomachs; we’ll get into this later.
“What kind of maniacal retard would even eat a heart anyway,” Asked Chris, who in the silence had decided to get up and move around through the long hallway of the 3rd Legion’s Crew Carrier. The silence that ensued this time was only broken by a series of consecutive cracks only measurable on the Richter’s Scale, by Chris’s fingers, elbows, neck, back, and pelvis; to which Chris, who was currently in shock from what he thought was his body finally turning against him, responded with sitting (falling) into the nearest, starboard seat. Next to him to his left, sat a bald, giggling soldier who finally gained enough composure to ask:
“Hey dude, you alright?”
Chris was going to reply with something amounting to “Yeah” but in the process, his jaw shifted slightly to the left and let loose and equally audible POP!
”AAAH, MY SELF!”
Any composure Chris's bald ally had gained hid itself back away and was replaced by a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"Psh, this never happened in the movies..." Chris grumbled to himself, followed by looking unhopefully up, which happened to be exactly where the where room 23’s .holo-clock was located, and Chris came upon a starling realization that angered him:
"WHEN ARE WE GETTING OFF THIS SHIP!? IT'S BEEN TEN HOURS!" , Chris exclaimed with ligaments a-flailing, normal trans-planet travel didn’t take this long.
Though everyone else in the room was still laughing at his earlier joint joint attack and offered him so pity; the only one who was not laughing Blake, who was still preoccupied with looking out with window, which with the current direction, facing away from the carnage of past days, had a breath taking view of the peaceful side of Mars Omega. Blake took to heart the saying, "The perma-grass is always redder on the other side." Though this statement was redundant for the perma-grass on Mars Omega always got redder as you went around the planet, it was the main way of telling longitude, though a good metaphor to inspire hope.
Chris, realizing his predicament, settled with staying silent, and looked unhopefully down.
(part of) Part II :
There is a strange race of beings in this universe that have come to gain power over their domain. They’ve harnessed the power of pure though and mind and can focus their energy on their surrounds, ultimately bridging the gap between mind and matter. It wouldn’t take a meta-neurophysician with an Alpha Ph. D. to imagine that they can do some really cool stuff.
These beings were governed by an oligarchy of four. The people called them kings though they had an equal say in pressing matters in times of peace and war. They could just do a lot more cooer stuff than the other citizens. All the beings are human in appearance and coincidentally spoke in a language similar to ours. The kings however, were slightly redder in color and, like their people, could sustain homeostasis in many different environments, just a lot more extreme, even if they were put in the smoldering world of Triton IV, which had volcanoes so hot that the mile high mountains around them collapsed and creased back into taller mountains as planet-shaking earthquakes met the rain of fire and sulfur from the skies; even the Zero chambers on their home world, which produced and maintained barely-higher-than-absolute-zero temperatures were withstand able to them. Though these were fun recreational activities, the kings tended to stay within the vicinity of their four large towers that cut the sky into four equal pieces overlaying four equal provinces of land. The kings called these provinces home even though the world of theirs was under their control and relatively stable as a whole. The kings and their people were of peace and content, since the evolution of their powers aroused, they spent most of their time honing their powers with the people and making miniature worlds to keep in their backyards, though this was usually a joint effort between the four kings.
The world they resided in looked as a malevolent artist had taken the bright red that symbolized love and brushed it across the canvas of the planet, accenting the red with intricate patterns of translucent blue to fill the vast rivers and seas which were splotched across the planet in the form and shining, clear water. This was quite the conundrum on their planet, for as clear and completely pure the water was, there was nothing in it to make it shine. The people called themselves Globulians and their planet they called Globula. Globula was slightly larger in diameter than two Mars’.