This is a short story I'm working on. Feedback would be awesome.
A constant stream of giant fire balls leave a thousand trails of light. They slowly fade and dissipate into a dark black canvas painted sparsely with tiny specks of light. The bow pans left and tips forward. Kel-Boran fills the viewport of the small transport.
The planet wears a dusty sand belt with lush green forests covering the polar caps. It’s few citizens mostly work in the mines while machines build ships from the resources they collect. At night the locals gather in gritty pubs where they mostly sit quietly and drink. The cargo ships they build will sometimes return to bring fresh supplies. The family transports they build in Kel-Faidus usually leave to never be seen again. The battle ships they build in orbit play no part in their general way of life.
They stir up little dust if any as their transport lands. The facility’s Foreman walks swiftly towards the possible commission. He scratches his beard as he examines the small ship. He’ll make more from the spare parts than he would trying to resale it he thinks. The pilot pulls a latch. The canopy opens.
The pilot studies the facility beside him with blatant apathy as the Foreman examines him. He’s young. Slightly shorter than average. Wavy blonde hair on a thin frame. He carries himself with a forced nature. He’s just a pretty boy. He’s an easy mark.
The co-passenger is a few years younger. Long straight black hair. She’s a beautiful girl. She’s used to living in luxury. The Foreman recognizes this. He’ll play it to his advantage. He’ll show them the more expensive family yachts and convince the boy that he’s gotta treat his girlfriend good. He hides his glee and introduces himself.
“No thank you. We’re here to meet a friend and join his crew.” The boy is smarter than he looks. “And I have no intention of being conned out of my ship.”
A feeble old man, wretched and devoid of hope, stands like a crumbling statue in the ruins of an empty future. He took a gamble and failed. He gives them a moment to leave before he turns to face his fate. A dilapidated building that feels no shame in it’s disgusting appearance.
Hours pass but nothing changes here. The few gusts of wind that pass them by barely cause a stir in the dusty sands. They sit on a stone step watching a setting sun that takes forever to hide behind the blank horizon. She wraps her arms around his and rests her head against his shoulder. The Universe whispers prophecies in the stars. You’ll never see each other again. Everything is ending. If she heard it she ignores it.
“Cole?”
“Raila?” His wit is subtle.
“Are you sure you want to live on a starship for the rest of our lives?”
“It’s not forever.” He makes the lie sound convincing. “In a few years we’ll have enough credits to settle on a nice tropical planet. Grow our own fruit, set up a stand in the market. Live by the sea.”
“Mmm. Daughter of the Ocean.” She pauses for a moment.
The secrets we keep destroy us. They hide in the shadows lurking like a twisted predator. The longer we keep them, the longer they stay hidden, the more the balance of power changes. Eventually the scales tip and you find that you’re no longer hiding secrets. You’re hiding from them. Eventually they’ll catch up to you. They’ll claw you to death and let the vultures circle.
She struggles to hide her emotions. She knows he’s lying. She saw the transmission before he had a chance to delete it. They’ll never settle down. They’ll live the rest of their short lives running.
After five years of service in the Bellian War, Second Commander Cole Allara left the Arishian Fleet with less than he took with him when he joined. Holo-banners along the city streets promoted the nobility of standing up in defense of Arishia and it’s allies. The chance to explore the Galaxy only fueled his ambitions. He hadn’t considered the affects of being stranded in space under constant threat of attack along a frontline that bordered a sector of the galaxy he’d only read about as a child with nothing protecting him from the vacuum of space but a layer of metal and an energy shield that was depleted more and more with each blast wave it absorbed. Five years was enough. He’d done his part. They can’t re-call what they can’t find.
He watches from orbit as the sun swings around Kel-Boran. He’d arrived shortly after his nephew Cole but chose to watch the sunrise first before going planet side. The contrast between a vast horizon and a giant marble always reminds him just how small the world really is. He’ll spend most of his life in the darkness of the universe. Moments like this are few and far between.
He can barely remember the last time he saw a star peak out from behind a planet. He’d been serving twice as long as Cole before his nephew even considered joining the Fleet. After nearly twenty years of sitting in a cockpit feeling helpless as he watched his fellow pilots blasted into oblivion he’d had enough. A few fingers on his right hand could be replaced. His left arm from the elbow down could be replaced. The missed opportunities, numbered in the thousands, to watch a morning star were lost forever.
Rebirth is a constant theme in every corner of the galaxy. In some systems they believe in reincarnation. The belief that a dying soul floats up into the sun where it’s refined and transformed into a new being and sent to live on another world. On Caju-Bin they believe the orange rivers produce a water that purifies the soul and makes it new again.
He came to buy a ship. Within the hour, he’ll have a new ship and a new title. A new crew to follow him. And with any luck, by this time tomorrow, he’ll be on his way to a new day on a new world with another beautiful morning star.
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