[Wrote this up a few weeks ago, finally decided to post it. Any feedback you guys could give would be appreciated!]

“Are you going to kill me?” Yaol attempted to belay the fact that he had a pistol pointed at his head. Its wielder, Estern Vaark, stood with one hand holding the gun and the other hand clutching his wounded side. Yaol watched as Estern, never taking his brown eyes off him, took a step forward and pinned the knife that lay on the floor of the bridge with his foot before swiftly sending it sliding behind him. It clanked against the far wall; Yaol’s weapon was out of reach. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his racing heart, he leant heavily against the wall of the Deep Glimmer, the mining and transport ship owned by Estern and his wife. He allowed himself to slide down to the floor as he awaited Estern’s response.

“As long as you don’t make any sudden moves, no.” The words, while threatening, were delivered in Estern’s characteristic crunch without vehemence or anger, but with fatigue and heaviness of breath. The preceding fight had taken its toll on both of them, and although Estern was ultimately the victor, he had physically come off far worse than his opponent. Yaol saw that he was unsuccessfully trying to staunch the blood seeping from the single wound Yaol had managed to deliver.

“So now what?” Yaol asked. He was definitely afraid, but he didn’t let it show in his voice.

“You can hardly turn me in,” he continued, “otherwise the Mitts will take you in too. Smuggling contraband is punishable by--”

“Shut the hell up!” Estern suddenly spoke, his veneer of fatigue replaced by an expression that evoked images of a brewing storm. Yaol realised that he had made an immediate mistake in this exchange.

“You knew why we had to take that shipment!” Estern’s voice rose, anger rushing through it like metal through water. “You knew perfectly well and you fucked it up!”

Yaol didn’t respond for a few seconds. What Estern said was true, and whilst Yaol was sure that he wouldn’t understand his reasons, he would hear them nevertheless. He replied firmly and with some convinction, though not as much as he would have liked.

“We’ve kept oracyte out of Rakkani for weeks, Estern. The fact that it’s finally made it in is a blow against us. Decent people like me, like you and Grenda, are trying to make a living, and then the Crowers show up smuggling the stuff by the ton!” Yaol couldn’t prevent his voice from rising as he continued, and his face twisted to match his tone.

“It’s untested, uncertified bullshit being used on hospital patients in place of the real stuff that comes from our ore, and what’s even fucking worse is that it doesn’t work! The Mitts denied the Crowers, said no to them!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Estern retorted, “You know I don’t want oracyte in Rakkani either!”

Yaol stood up, his eyes hardly registering the weapon still in Estern’s hand, such was his rage. “Yeah? Then why the fuck did you smuggle it, Estern? Why were you the first person to bring that shit into Rakkani? It’s on this ship right now! It’s in your cargo hold!” he shouted, “You say you don’t want it, but what you do says otherwise! Did you even talk this over with Grenda?”

A spark of surprise lit up the fires behind Estern’s eyes, further fanning flames of hostility. “The oracyte would’ve been off this ship ten minutes ago if you hadn’t come in and deliberately fucked the deal up the ass!” His fist tightened around the pistol, and Yaol felt legitimately threatened, even more so than he’d felt in the heat of the fight.

“Even though you don’t have any shred of a family left, Yaol, I thought you’d understand--”

“Understand that you betrayed everything you stood for? I couldn’t let you do it, Estern, I couldn’t!”

“Annie’s my daughter, you self-centered son of a bitch! Did you think I did this because I wanted to? The Crowers would’ve killed her or shipped her off somewhere if I didn’t agree to this, and thanks to you that’s exactly what they’re going to do! It was one shipment. One! I’ve lost my only child forever and it’s your fault!”

This was it. This was where Yaol had to make his point. By all rights Estern should be weeping, and yet he stood still as a pillar of hardest hull. His conviction wouldn't be easy to shake.

“Estern, listen to me. I know you’re upset, but Annie’s one person. It was one person in exchange for the continued integrity of the system. Every time the Crowers are denied, we get stronger. The Mitts--”

Estern interrupted him with a burst of laughter that dripped with condescension. “The Mitts? You think they’re going to help us? You think they give a fuck about the welfare of the people they’re supposed to protect? And ‘continued integrity’? This system is dead, Yaol! Law enforcement doesn’t exist in anything more than name, piracy runs rampant, families are torn apart and life-long friends betray each other!” Estern looked Yaol in the eyes as he said those last words, then lowered his gun. Yaol sighed in relief, but he wasn’t fooled; he knew if he so much as twitched in Estern’s direction, he’d be shot. Probably not killed, no, their friendship had gone on long enough that Estern wouldn’t outright kill him... but Yaol didn’t doubt the intensity of Estern’s hatred for him right now.

“So what are you going to do, Estern? Move? Fly off to Roove or Western? Start a life there?” The expression on Estern’s bearded, weathered face didn’t show his grief, but his eyes did. Yaol had seen sadness in them before, but never like this. Nevertheless, he knew that they often showed only a fraction of what was going on in his head.

“You know Grenda and I couldn’t afford it,” Estern responded, “A one-time jump gate license is over twenty thousand now. No, if our situation’s going to improve, it’s going to be because of someone coming into Rakkani, not us coming out.” Yaol knew he didn’t have long before this conversation was over, and he dreaded what would come next, so he decided to prolong it as much as he could.

“What do you mean?” Yaol asked, and Estern gestured with the laser pistol for him to get up. He stood, and saw that Estern was holding a pair of handcuffs.

“Rakkani needs someone to help it get its shit back together; someone who doesn’t care about limits and so-called laws, and is prepared to challenge and rectify them.”
Estern moved around behind Yaol and bound his hands together. “It needs someone who’s prepared to have an effect on the system, bear the consequences and weather them; someone who can cause change, and isn’t afraid to do so.”

Yaol glanced at the consoles on the bridge. A fighter had just docked with Deep Glimmer--a fighter with room for a passenger. He had only one last question.

“You really think that’ll happen?” He felt the barrel of the gun jab into his back, and started a slow walk towards the ship’s docking bay. Estern was close behind him.

“It’s the only chance I’ll ever see Annie again.”

I liked it a lot

It's not bad; suspension is almost palpable! If you want constructive criticism though, I can only say something that I have to say to myself oh-ever-so-often:

It's needlessly complicated, with descriptions that serve no practical purpose except filling space with letters and a somewhat trivial matter turned into a needlessly complicated mystery and tragedy.

As I said, I often fall in the same trap, so please don't take it personally.

But you use words in the right way, so I encourage you to write more. There are plenty of hopeless people who probably think it's below them to write comprehensive stories or even check the grammar; you're not one of them, so it's perfectly all right, and I'll be willing to read more of your writings in the future.

outlander4 wrote:It's needlessly complicated, with descriptions that serve no practical purpose except filling space with letters

It's not television it's writing, you'll find in most novels you read there's one important sentence in each paragraph and the rest is filler.

Katawa wrote:

outlander4 wrote:It's needlessly complicated, with descriptions that serve no practical purpose except filling space with letters

It's not television it's writing, you'll find in most novels you read there's one important sentence in each paragraph and the rest is filler.

Not the case. Simply not the case. Each word of any literary work must have a very good reason to be put in. Of course, very few authors are that good, but we all must aim for the best, right?

outlander4 wrote:Not the case. Simply not the case. Each word of any literary work must have a very good reason to be put in. Of course, very few authors are that good, but we all must aim for the best, right?

I was too vague with the word filler. The words are all absolutely important to set mood, tone, and immersion but progressing the story only usually takes a sentence a paragraph.

Katawa wrote: You misunderstand me, the words are all absolutely important to set mood, tone, and immersion but progressing the story only usually takes a sentence a paragraph.

Ah, I see. Well, on average - maybe. I like model where description paragraph is followed by an action paragraph, and so on. You set the scene by descriptions, and then put it into action.

With this particular story, action dominates; descriptions are few in number and don't really explain who is who and what's going on. But hey, as I said - I often do the same thing. I have a clear idea and forget to take into account that the world I've built inside my head is completely unknown and probably very confusing to just about everybody else...

I've been absent from the forum for a while, so apologies for the late reply. But thank you for the feedback! I don't get time to write as much as I'd like to, so getting other people's opinions matters a lot. I hope to post more stuff in the future!

Yes please, do that. The more people contributes, the better