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“Why did I open my Emperor-damned mouth? I could have sat nice and safe in Pending, but no! I had to go and defend some fucking twists in front of my commanding officer.” Captain Roxar Fredrickson (formerly Sargent Fredrickson just two weeks ago) was slowly getting used to his fate. That is, being the newly appointed commander of Fort Defiance, and thus effectively already dead.
Two weeks ago he'd been a Sargent in Fort Pending, the grand capital of the shithole known as the District of Alutia. He had been on a regular scavenging mission in the ruins around Pending, or what was left of them. Time and nuclear Armageddon had destroyed most of the District quite nicely. A normal mission had ended in the usual worthless scraps and the usual scraps that were the worthless corpses of his squad mates. Only this time one of the more capable twists had survived. Or rather he would have with the proper medical care.
“Sir, this man needs urgent medical attention. He'll die otherwise.” He was arguing over the poor bastard's fate with Captain Johansen, his barracks commander.
“Sargent, this 'man' of your is a twist. That means his sorry ass isn't worth the supplies it would take to save his miserable hide. Now stand down!” The Captain had a quite clear policy on mutants, or twists as they were more commonly called.
1: They are absolutely and utterly worthless, unless rule two kicks in.
2: If they do have a useful skill they are tools.
3: No mutant, no matter how useful, is a human being. They are vile and do not deserve the Emperor's salvation for their souls.
“Sir, with all respect.....” Roxar never finished his sentence.
“I thought I told you to stand down you insubordinate little piece of shit!” Johansen punctuated his exclamation with a shot from his laspistol, putting the twist out of his misery.
“Now, you are in a lucky position. Normally I'd shoot you right now, but I've had news of some clashes on the border. Turns out that Defiance needs a new commander for the garrison. I'll have to do some paperwork with the Colonel, but for now you are dismissed Captain Fredrickson.”
As he left, dazed by Johansen's words, he felt and incredible itching from his eyes.
***
And now, he'd spent two weeks traveling to arrive at his exile. Defiance was an apt name, because the fact that anyone lived here simply defied logic and reason. The ground was a swampy, irradiated cesspool, prone to actually flooding when it rained heavily (which it did often) and thus ruining the crops. Not that this stopped the villagers from trying. He could see them, trying to harvest a crop of frankly disgusting grain. And here he'd thought his rations had been bad.
He looked at the villagers, and saw that all amongst them were twist of one sort or another. Antlers, extra limbs and other oddities were rife amongst them. He almost considered himself out of place, having no obvious mutations and standing tall at 6'5'' and looking considerably cleaner than the natives, even after two weeks travel in awful weather. Not that the weather was ever really any good. Even his worn out fatigues and storm coat were marking him as an outsider.
The fort itself was a wooden structure with high walls and a moat of water. It was too wide to jump, filled with irradiated (and probably toxic) water and he thought he could see the tips of spikes just under the waterline. He was surprised to see that it was actually quite sturdy, though he wondered why all the wood here seemed to have a dark crimson colouration.
Pushing these thoughts aside he entered the fort. He had traveled with a supply caravan from pending, carrying himself and the survivors of his squad (another 3 twists). They also carried a cargo of ammunition, vital medical supplies and odds and ends like bootlaces and buttons.
He quickly set up camp in his new office, a small dark room who's walls were covered in crude maps of the area. The shelves were filled with a few forlorn looking books about tactics, all of which were near useless thanks to the reality of the post apocalypse, which meant that they simply didn't have the tech to fight with pre-Blackout tactics.
Once his meagre possessions were dropped in his bedroom (which was even more scarcely furnished than the office) he continued to the armoury to take stock of of their situation.
At the front of the armoury was a wooden desk (clearly locally sourced as the wood was that familiar shade of crimson) with a man sitting at it. Roxar was surprised to see that he looked completely human.
“I presume you mast be the Quartermaster. I am Captain Fredrickson, your new commander. I want to take stock of our supplies.”
When he looked up he realised the figure was most definitely not a pureblood. His eyes were slit vertically and when he opened his mouth to speak Roxar could see his reptilian tongue.
“Yesss Sssah, right away.” Only then did he seem to truly look at him, and suddenly he realised that the Captain was not a twist. “Sssurprising to sssee a pureblood here. Pisssssed off an officer?” He asked quizzically.
“Something like that” I muttered. Thankfully he seemed more curious than resentful of my lack of mutations.
The Quartermaster showed him around, and once more it dawned on him that this Fort was woefully outmatched. There were about twenty two working (and that was using the term liberally) lasguns, about 250 autoguns of various calibres and states of disrepair, from automatics to hunting rifles. A couple of dozen squad support weapons like heavy stubbers, for which there was very little ammunition and a cobbled together assortment of hand to hand weapons, most of which were farming equipment.
The fort also had a number of mortars to ward off attacks from the dominion border, which were thankfully well stocked for ammunition, certainly more so than the small arms.
Once again his eyes started itching painfully, as they had done over the last weeks.
“How am I supposed to defend this place with third rate weapons, this little ammo and a bunch of villagers as my garrison” He face palmed, visibly irritated.
“Sssah, there isss a more pressssing isssssue at hand.” The Quartermaster interrupted.
“And that would be?”
“The chief medic would like to check that you are phisssically fit Sssah.” He replied calmly.
Just thinking about the likely state of the medical facilities made Roxar's eyes go crazy.
***
“Greetings Commander, my name is Doctor Ignatius Venom, and this is my domain.”
Roxar had been very surprised to see that the medical center, whilst short on actual medical supplies, was immaculately clean. Doctor Venom seemed to understand at least the basics of his craft. He seemed a quirky fellow, not quite fitting in with the Fort's general decay. He, like his ward was very clean, and he had a manner more befitting of a nobleman from Pending, or at least that was what Roxar imagined.
Though his body did dispel that illusion rather quickly. The Doctor had eight, thin arms which turned out to be very flexible and oddly graceful when he examined Roxar.
“Any recent medical complaints? Headaches, nausea, sickness or itching perhaps?” The doctor said after some deliberations.
“I suffer from chronic headaches and my eyes often itch. Nothing unusual though.” As he said this the pain in his eyes seemed to increase, and as he blinked something was smearing across his retinas.
“Sir, I'm afraid you are not being completely honest there. Your eyes are bleeding.” He said unfazed.
Roxar however had started convulsing soon after Venom said so, losing consciousness soon after.
***
He awoke in one of the beds in the medical center, Doc Venom sitting on a nearby chair reading a tattered book of medicine. Roxar's vision was blurry however, and seemed somehow off. His eyes felt strange.
“Ah, you're awake sir. I would recommend that you keep lying down till your eyes have refocused. I would also like to add that you should have told me that you are a mutant, then I could have stepped in much quicker.” He seemed disappointed.
“What are you talking about you moron. I'm not a fucking twist.” Roxar didn't understand what was happening, but his eyes were finally seeing clearly.
The Doctor merely pointed him to a mirror. Staring back at him was a near perfect reflection of him. The only flaw was that his eyes were a deep crimson, with blackened veins running through them.
He screamed.
Two weeks ago he'd been a Sargent in Fort Pending, the grand capital of the shithole known as the District of Alutia. He had been on a regular scavenging mission in the ruins around Pending, or what was left of them. Time and nuclear Armageddon had destroyed most of the District quite nicely. A normal mission had ended in the usual worthless scraps and the usual scraps that were the worthless corpses of his squad mates. Only this time one of the more capable twists had survived. Or rather he would have with the proper medical care.
“Sir, this man needs urgent medical attention. He'll die otherwise.” He was arguing over the poor bastard's fate with Captain Johansen, his barracks commander.
“Sargent, this 'man' of your is a twist. That means his sorry ass isn't worth the supplies it would take to save his miserable hide. Now stand down!” The Captain had a quite clear policy on mutants, or twists as they were more commonly called.
1: They are absolutely and utterly worthless, unless rule two kicks in.
2: If they do have a useful skill they are tools.
3: No mutant, no matter how useful, is a human being. They are vile and do not deserve the Emperor's salvation for their souls.
“Sir, with all respect.....” Roxar never finished his sentence.
“I thought I told you to stand down you insubordinate little piece of shit!” Johansen punctuated his exclamation with a shot from his laspistol, putting the twist out of his misery.
“Now, you are in a lucky position. Normally I'd shoot you right now, but I've had news of some clashes on the border. Turns out that Defiance needs a new commander for the garrison. I'll have to do some paperwork with the Colonel, but for now you are dismissed Captain Fredrickson.”
As he left, dazed by Johansen's words, he felt and incredible itching from his eyes.
***
And now, he'd spent two weeks traveling to arrive at his exile. Defiance was an apt name, because the fact that anyone lived here simply defied logic and reason. The ground was a swampy, irradiated cesspool, prone to actually flooding when it rained heavily (which it did often) and thus ruining the crops. Not that this stopped the villagers from trying. He could see them, trying to harvest a crop of frankly disgusting grain. And here he'd thought his rations had been bad.
He looked at the villagers, and saw that all amongst them were twist of one sort or another. Antlers, extra limbs and other oddities were rife amongst them. He almost considered himself out of place, having no obvious mutations and standing tall at 6'5'' and looking considerably cleaner than the natives, even after two weeks travel in awful weather. Not that the weather was ever really any good. Even his worn out fatigues and storm coat were marking him as an outsider.
The fort itself was a wooden structure with high walls and a moat of water. It was too wide to jump, filled with irradiated (and probably toxic) water and he thought he could see the tips of spikes just under the waterline. He was surprised to see that it was actually quite sturdy, though he wondered why all the wood here seemed to have a dark crimson colouration.
Pushing these thoughts aside he entered the fort. He had traveled with a supply caravan from pending, carrying himself and the survivors of his squad (another 3 twists). They also carried a cargo of ammunition, vital medical supplies and odds and ends like bootlaces and buttons.
He quickly set up camp in his new office, a small dark room who's walls were covered in crude maps of the area. The shelves were filled with a few forlorn looking books about tactics, all of which were near useless thanks to the reality of the post apocalypse, which meant that they simply didn't have the tech to fight with pre-Blackout tactics.
Once his meagre possessions were dropped in his bedroom (which was even more scarcely furnished than the office) he continued to the armoury to take stock of of their situation.
At the front of the armoury was a wooden desk (clearly locally sourced as the wood was that familiar shade of crimson) with a man sitting at it. Roxar was surprised to see that he looked completely human.
“I presume you mast be the Quartermaster. I am Captain Fredrickson, your new commander. I want to take stock of our supplies.”
When he looked up he realised the figure was most definitely not a pureblood. His eyes were slit vertically and when he opened his mouth to speak Roxar could see his reptilian tongue.
“Yesss Sssah, right away.” Only then did he seem to truly look at him, and suddenly he realised that the Captain was not a twist. “Sssurprising to sssee a pureblood here. Pisssssed off an officer?” He asked quizzically.
“Something like that” I muttered. Thankfully he seemed more curious than resentful of my lack of mutations.
The Quartermaster showed him around, and once more it dawned on him that this Fort was woefully outmatched. There were about twenty two working (and that was using the term liberally) lasguns, about 250 autoguns of various calibres and states of disrepair, from automatics to hunting rifles. A couple of dozen squad support weapons like heavy stubbers, for which there was very little ammunition and a cobbled together assortment of hand to hand weapons, most of which were farming equipment.
The fort also had a number of mortars to ward off attacks from the dominion border, which were thankfully well stocked for ammunition, certainly more so than the small arms.
Once again his eyes started itching painfully, as they had done over the last weeks.
“How am I supposed to defend this place with third rate weapons, this little ammo and a bunch of villagers as my garrison” He face palmed, visibly irritated.
“Sssah, there isss a more pressssing isssssue at hand.” The Quartermaster interrupted.
“And that would be?”
“The chief medic would like to check that you are phisssically fit Sssah.” He replied calmly.
Just thinking about the likely state of the medical facilities made Roxar's eyes go crazy.
***
“Greetings Commander, my name is Doctor Ignatius Venom, and this is my domain.”
Roxar had been very surprised to see that the medical center, whilst short on actual medical supplies, was immaculately clean. Doctor Venom seemed to understand at least the basics of his craft. He seemed a quirky fellow, not quite fitting in with the Fort's general decay. He, like his ward was very clean, and he had a manner more befitting of a nobleman from Pending, or at least that was what Roxar imagined.
Though his body did dispel that illusion rather quickly. The Doctor had eight, thin arms which turned out to be very flexible and oddly graceful when he examined Roxar.
“Any recent medical complaints? Headaches, nausea, sickness or itching perhaps?” The doctor said after some deliberations.
“I suffer from chronic headaches and my eyes often itch. Nothing unusual though.” As he said this the pain in his eyes seemed to increase, and as he blinked something was smearing across his retinas.
“Sir, I'm afraid you are not being completely honest there. Your eyes are bleeding.” He said unfazed.
Roxar however had started convulsing soon after Venom said so, losing consciousness soon after.
***
He awoke in one of the beds in the medical center, Doc Venom sitting on a nearby chair reading a tattered book of medicine. Roxar's vision was blurry however, and seemed somehow off. His eyes felt strange.
“Ah, you're awake sir. I would recommend that you keep lying down till your eyes have refocused. I would also like to add that you should have told me that you are a mutant, then I could have stepped in much quicker.” He seemed disappointed.
“What are you talking about you moron. I'm not a fucking twist.” Roxar didn't understand what was happening, but his eyes were finally seeing clearly.
The Doctor merely pointed him to a mirror. Staring back at him was a near perfect reflection of him. The only flaw was that his eyes were a deep crimson, with blackened veins running through them.
He screamed.
Suggested Collections
My first submission for Project Arkangel. RecklessCharge has allowed me to write about Fort Defiance, in his own District of Alutia. I hope that the garrison of Defiance can make him proud.
That and that my contributions will prove helpful in the battle against the Dominion of Lev. Alutia shall rise again!
Side note: Sssah is the Quartermaster's attempt at pronouncing "Sir".
That and that my contributions will prove helpful in the battle against the Dominion of Lev. Alutia shall rise again!
Side note: Sssah is the Quartermaster's attempt at pronouncing "Sir".
© 2013 - 2024 Nik0410
Comments10
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It's not the best story I've ever seen...wait, wait, don't stop reading yet! I'm trying to be constructive with my criticism!
It's mean of me to say that, because hey, it's not a BAD story, and it's certainly a good one, but there are some small things in there that irk me and keep it from being a real great one. Not necessarily OH MY GOD EVIL THIS IS A HORRIBLE ATTEMPT AT A STORY bad, but stuff that would get a few marks taken off in English class.
You have a numbered list in there at one point, where it'd be easy enough to just have them as separate sentences in the same paragraph, or reworded as a pair of sentences for a good effect.If I had to write it myself, I'd say:
"They were absolutely and utterly useless except as tools, and were so far from human as to never receive the Emperor's blessing."
But by putting a numbered list in there, it looks and feels out of place - when normally the paragraphs are seperated by these large spaces, suddenly these single sentences are. It clearly stands out, and somewhat detracts from the feel of the piece as a story.
On a somewhat related note, the first part of the story was somewhat awkward because of how you set it up. It's clear what is happening to Roxas in the very first paragraph is what is presently happening in the story, and the later paragraphs are taking the reader back to an earlier event. The problem is, when the actual dialogue between Roxar and his captain starts, it's in present tense. Instead of 'had been,' you wrote 'was', and so on. It's a bit confusing, despite being an easy error to make.
On a lesser note, you misspelled the rank "sergeant" twice, accidentally writing 'sargent.' That might have been intentional, so that's a lesser complaint. Also, you reveal the fate of the mutant before he gets shot. I think you can see why I'd have a bone to pick with that - suddenly the captain's execution feels less heartless, because we knew the twist was going to die anyway.
At one point you said facepalm...which honestly, I can understand, because it's not easy to describe the action of facepalming, but it still feels a bit out of place, like hearing a saxophone at a classical music concert. If I had tried to describe it, I might have gone, "he slapped a hand to his face," or "he brought his hand to his face, rubbing his temples in irritation," or something along those lines. There are a few other things that irk me slightly, but they aren't bad or detract from the feel of the story any, so I'll leave them alone.
I'm not trying to put you down here - I'm really not. It is a good story, you do a good job with the characters and I understand that it is supposed to be the first of many, so I'll probably get to see more of the characters in later chapters, and I honestly do enjoy watching a story unfold. I am enjoying your use of diction and accents, and though your descriptions feel a little sparse (I tend to pile them on, myself), they get the message across, and I get a good feel for the area Roxar's in and what it's like. I'm just clumsily trying to help you do even better and offer some constructive criticism.
Hope I'm not being too mean...and am actually being constructive, not just critical.
It's mean of me to say that, because hey, it's not a BAD story, and it's certainly a good one, but there are some small things in there that irk me and keep it from being a real great one. Not necessarily OH MY GOD EVIL THIS IS A HORRIBLE ATTEMPT AT A STORY bad, but stuff that would get a few marks taken off in English class.
You have a numbered list in there at one point, where it'd be easy enough to just have them as separate sentences in the same paragraph, or reworded as a pair of sentences for a good effect.If I had to write it myself, I'd say:
"They were absolutely and utterly useless except as tools, and were so far from human as to never receive the Emperor's blessing."
But by putting a numbered list in there, it looks and feels out of place - when normally the paragraphs are seperated by these large spaces, suddenly these single sentences are. It clearly stands out, and somewhat detracts from the feel of the piece as a story.
On a somewhat related note, the first part of the story was somewhat awkward because of how you set it up. It's clear what is happening to Roxas in the very first paragraph is what is presently happening in the story, and the later paragraphs are taking the reader back to an earlier event. The problem is, when the actual dialogue between Roxar and his captain starts, it's in present tense. Instead of 'had been,' you wrote 'was', and so on. It's a bit confusing, despite being an easy error to make.
On a lesser note, you misspelled the rank "sergeant" twice, accidentally writing 'sargent.' That might have been intentional, so that's a lesser complaint. Also, you reveal the fate of the mutant before he gets shot. I think you can see why I'd have a bone to pick with that - suddenly the captain's execution feels less heartless, because we knew the twist was going to die anyway.
At one point you said facepalm...which honestly, I can understand, because it's not easy to describe the action of facepalming, but it still feels a bit out of place, like hearing a saxophone at a classical music concert. If I had tried to describe it, I might have gone, "he slapped a hand to his face," or "he brought his hand to his face, rubbing his temples in irritation," or something along those lines. There are a few other things that irk me slightly, but they aren't bad or detract from the feel of the story any, so I'll leave them alone.
I'm not trying to put you down here - I'm really not. It is a good story, you do a good job with the characters and I understand that it is supposed to be the first of many, so I'll probably get to see more of the characters in later chapters, and I honestly do enjoy watching a story unfold. I am enjoying your use of diction and accents, and though your descriptions feel a little sparse (I tend to pile them on, myself), they get the message across, and I get a good feel for the area Roxar's in and what it's like. I'm just clumsily trying to help you do even better and offer some constructive criticism.
Hope I'm not being too mean...and am actually being constructive, not just critical.