Thursday, June 9, 2011

Part One: Wherein Atlas Finds Himself Trapped

This is a short story I started; part one of a space opera.

    Atlas landed with a hard "thump" on the dusty, somewhat rocky surface; the weight of the bulky jump-unit on his back almost crushing him.  His suit, made of an air-tight dense polymer, had protected him from the fall and from being crushed, and he would later be glad that his helmet didn't crack.
    "Did it work?  Did the jump work?"  He was trying to take stalk of where he was, the jump-unit still on top of him.  "Guys?  Did it work?  Guys?  GUYS!?"  Confused beyond belief, Atlas scanned his surrounding, looking to the reddish horizon in every direction.  He saw no one, and he obviously wasn't back at the colony.
    "What the fuck," he thought, half-muttering, "am I the only one that made it?  Where the fuck am I?"  They had all preset their jump packs to the same coordinates, to the Higher District of the Royal Colony just in case.  He was panicking.  Someone had obviously messed with his unit, he thought.  This thought made him angry, but he had bigger things to worry about.  He could play detective once he got out of this unsettling place.  He wondered how many of the nine others also didn't make it back to the colony.  Was it just him?  He wondered where they would even be stranded; he had never seen this place before.  He had no idea where he was.
    The sky appeared twilit, as though it was starting to get dark.  Or it was starting to get light, he didn't know.  Either way this strange world wasn't lit very well at that particular moment; the sky was a reddish orange-brown color; red in some spots, orange and brown in others.  He could see a massive white star in the sky, half way between the horizon and the zenith, but it wasn't doing a very good job of illuminating anything.  He guessed the atmosphere was thick, filled with dense gases that were blocking light from whatever star that was.  Looking for the others was going to be a challenge.
    The jump-unit on his back had warped him to this place.  It was of new design, as the technology to create holes through space-time hadn't existed for more than a few years, and was constantly being improved.  Atlas unstrapped the unit from his back to examine it.  It was sleek and blackish-silver, almost reflective.  It was a heavy son-of-a-bitch, weighing about fifty or sixty pounds, and was the size of a large backpack.  The amount of energy required and the actual size of the drive itself wouldn't allow it to be any smaller.  Not until the tech improved, anyway.  Both the top and bottom round-lights and the screen on the unit were no longer glowing, and it wasn't making the quiet, humming noise as it usually does for an hour or so after every jump.  It was somewhat of a prototype, and it was badly damaged.
    Each unit had a tracker in it for locating others and for being located by others, usually indicated by the glowing characters on the tiny screen. Since the jump drive and the tracking device were both damaged, plans A and B were out the window, and unfortunately Atlas didn't have a plan C.  He wanted to try to look for others, just in case they were also stranded here, but he had huge doubts in his mind.  Atlas just wanted to lay down.
     The gravity on this planet felt weird.  Or maybe it wasn't the gravity, but the pressure; maybe both.  Atlas felt as though his body could implode into itself at any moment, which made him nauseous, and he really didn't want to throw up inside his less-than-roomy helmet.  If he jumped, he knew he would vomit.  If he ran, he knew he would vomit.  He had to remove his jump pack.  The heavy metallic box was hurting his back and making him feel weaker, and it wasn't exactly useful anymore.  Still, though, he was reluctant to go anywhere without it, seeing as how it was a very expensive piece of equipment, and could be fixed.  Or the tracker might eventually kick back on.  He decided to sit with his pack for a little while.  He had no plan, no ideas.  He figured sitting down would be just as useful as wandering around, and he was sore as hell from the fall.
    Atlas tried to get comfortable, but he felt as though that massive black star hanging above was boiling him inside his suit.  Wait, black star?  He could have sworn it was white just a few minutes earlier, and it wasn't directly above him either.  Had it moved?  Was it even the same star?  Shit, for all he knew it wasn't a star at all.  He suddenly hated this place, and feared the thought of even using a dimension-jump again, except to get home.  He never thought he'd end up in a place like this.  He'd never even imagined a place like this.

With his tracker and jump pack disabled, he knew he would die here.--

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