I'm suppose to be working on my contest entry.
And if not that, I should be clawing my way back on track with the new novel I'm working on this year.
Instead, I'm writing an alternate/future Sasha with the meteorite tipped narwhal lance of destiny. This is what happens when you get sidetracked researching for a story.
Ten seconds until self destruct.
Sasha Suter squeezed down the corridor cluttered with moving debris. The rapid decent of the spacecraft, coupled by the failing grounding engine, had turned all loose items into projectiles. She tucked, rolled, and pushed off surfaces in the ever changing landscape, making a desperate attempt to get to the last lifepod. As if that wasn’t bad enough, two spacenaughts were in pursuit, slashing the air before them wildly with their horns.
One lunged forth, and Sasha turned to parry with the lance she carried; a magnificent artefact made of narwhal bone and meteorite iron. She had the advantage of reach, which she used to plunge the blade into the spacenaughts’ shoulder. It grunted and recoiled.
The other one hesitated, and the moment cost it it’s life. A crate sideswiped him and crushed him against the wall. Sash finished off the first spacenaught while the other’s screams were cut short.
A crate smashed into her from behind, knocking her into the cold, hard metal wall of the craft. The narwhal lance flew from her grip, where it flew on until it was scissored by the railing and another crate. It broke.
Sasha winced. That could easily have been her. In fact, nothing was certain, and if she didn’t move fast enough, she still could share the fate of the priceless lance. She dodged a ceramic solar globe hurtling towards her. It smashed behind her, and a resulting shard sliced her left ear. As she sailed through the air, fast reaction speed saved her from being knocked off course by a duffle bag of work tools.
Finally, the lifepod was in sight. The entrance was a small crawlspace, but it was unblocked. Sasha angled her body to slide neatly into it.
A second after she closed the hatch, the craft exploded. Sasha was rendered unconscious from the shock, and the insignificant pod became just another shard in the vastness of space.
A frantic, incessant beeping woke her. There was no room in the pod to do much by lie still. The beeping was to tell her that the pod had been damaged, and the life support systems were on their way out. Sasha looked out of the foggy panel where she could just make out the light of distant stars. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to the sundrenched days she spent in Fin. If this was to be her death, she wanted her last thought to be of Mortimer.
And if not that, I should be clawing my way back on track with the new novel I'm working on this year.
Instead, I'm writing an alternate/future Sasha with the meteorite tipped narwhal lance of destiny. This is what happens when you get sidetracked researching for a story.
Ten seconds until self destruct.
Sasha Suter squeezed down the corridor cluttered with moving debris. The rapid decent of the spacecraft, coupled by the failing grounding engine, had turned all loose items into projectiles. She tucked, rolled, and pushed off surfaces in the ever changing landscape, making a desperate attempt to get to the last lifepod. As if that wasn’t bad enough, two spacenaughts were in pursuit, slashing the air before them wildly with their horns.
One lunged forth, and Sasha turned to parry with the lance she carried; a magnificent artefact made of narwhal bone and meteorite iron. She had the advantage of reach, which she used to plunge the blade into the spacenaughts’ shoulder. It grunted and recoiled.
The other one hesitated, and the moment cost it it’s life. A crate sideswiped him and crushed him against the wall. Sash finished off the first spacenaught while the other’s screams were cut short.
A crate smashed into her from behind, knocking her into the cold, hard metal wall of the craft. The narwhal lance flew from her grip, where it flew on until it was scissored by the railing and another crate. It broke.
Sasha winced. That could easily have been her. In fact, nothing was certain, and if she didn’t move fast enough, she still could share the fate of the priceless lance. She dodged a ceramic solar globe hurtling towards her. It smashed behind her, and a resulting shard sliced her left ear. As she sailed through the air, fast reaction speed saved her from being knocked off course by a duffle bag of work tools.
Finally, the lifepod was in sight. The entrance was a small crawlspace, but it was unblocked. Sasha angled her body to slide neatly into it.
A second after she closed the hatch, the craft exploded. Sasha was rendered unconscious from the shock, and the insignificant pod became just another shard in the vastness of space.
A frantic, incessant beeping woke her. There was no room in the pod to do much by lie still. The beeping was to tell her that the pod had been damaged, and the life support systems were on their way out. Sasha looked out of the foggy panel where she could just make out the light of distant stars. She closed her eyes and willed herself back to the sundrenched days she spent in Fin. If this was to be her death, she wanted her last thought to be of Mortimer.
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