Report, edit, etc...Posted by CaptainWill on 2005-02-26 at 22:33:01
For one of my English courseworks, I got the choice of doing a variety of things from articles on sexism, to poetry about how much the world sucks. The one which I chose was the first chapter of a piece of fiction.
It's a thriller, but most of this chapter is just setting the scene. For those of you can't be bothered to read long posts (most of you - I know I can't usually
), it contains a murder and some nice Briticisms. It is set in 2487, when space colonialism has come into being. This is a very non-clichéd sci-fi setting. I apologise in advance for the poor formatting. I didn't write it for the web, unfortunately.
-------
Andrew Rush tumbled out of the taxi door like an actor in a cheap slapstick comedy. Picking himself up, he thrust some coins into the driver’s outstretched hand and quickly dusted himself off. ‘I’m late!’ he reminded himself, as he briefly took in the opulent grandeur of the Independent Confederacy’s embassy. Twenty marble steps, enormously wide and inlaid with fine strips of gold, led up to the elegantly carved entrance, over which hung the Confederacy’s flag – a golden silhouette of an eagle hurling a thunderbolt, over a blue background. Andrew bounded up the steps two at a time with a rising sense of dread; to be late to the ambassador’s speech would be the worst kind of insult. He was so preoccupied that he almost crashed straight into a man leaning against the doorway, dressed in a white dinner jacket and matching top hat.
‘What’s the rush?’ said the man; an idly amused expression on his moustachioed face.
Andrew suddenly recognised his old friend, Robert Remson, and he stopped.
‘I’d know those terrible puns anywhere’ he said, turning to greet the fellow Elmsbury college boy.
Remson’s eyes widened with mock horror. ‘My puns? Terrible?’ Rush laughed weakly, eager to avoid a diplomatic incident by getting to the speech on time.
‘Cuban?’ offered Remson suddenly, extracting a metal case of the fine cigars from an inside pocket of his tuxedo. Rush shook his head. ‘I’d love to, Rob, but I can’t… Actually, why are you still out here? The ambassador’s speech starts in 30 seconds!’
‘What on Earth are you talking about, old boy?’ inquired Remson, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
‘The speech, it starts at 7:15!’
‘Well, if you want to know, I was just enjoying the evening air – it’s a damn sight cooler out here than it is in there.’ said Remson, gesturing through the double-doors. ‘Oh, and you might want to look at this.’ He produced an invitation from somewhere else inside his tuxedo and handed it to Rush. Rush read the time on the invitation: ‘7:30!’ he exclaimed. ‘But Smith told me …’ Remson cut him off with a burst of laughter. ‘You know how useless he is! I’m telling you – never believe a word that man says – it’s like he lives in another world.’ Rush had to agree with him. Smith must have been the most disorganised man in London – yet he still kept his job as a clerk in Rush’s small firm, a space travel company of sorts. Feeling relieved at the change of schedule, Rush accepted his friend’s offer of a cigar and went with him through the doors, talking about how their businesses were going. Remson was the son of Lord Stradbroke, so he didn’t really need a job, but he had one nonetheless. He’d already shown keen business sense as a child, and now in his early thirties he had a property empire and a booming import-export business. As they ambled into the entrance hall, with its grand staircase curving up to the left and right, a smirking young man with slick black hair called out from across the room ‘Nice entrance, Rush. Very dignified getting out of that taxi.’
‘Ah, ignore him.’ said Remson with a wave of his cigar. ‘He’s a slimy bugger, that Jerome.’ They watched as Jerome Travely turned to share a comment with the portly man standing next to him with a glass of red wine in his hand. The man threw back his head and roared with laughter that turned the heads of most of the people next to him and sloshed the wine dangerously close to the edge of his glass. Rush gritted his teeth. He didn’t know Jerome Travely too well, and he didn’t want to. He was a lazy, obnoxious rich kid who took every opportunity to show off his wealth. At least Remson showed off his wealth with style. Travely on the other hand…
‘Right then – I’m going off to speak to Sir Anthony over there’ said Remson, pointing to a square-jawed character standing on his own by the staircase. ‘Alright – I’ll go and find somewhere to put my hat’ said Rush as he removed the object from his head and fanned his face with it; Jerome Travely forgotten for the meantime. Remson hadn’t been joking. It really was hot in here, and he noticed that many of the ladies, in their dazzling ball gowns, were carrying their own fans. He made his way through the throng of people, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces, and politely greeting dignitaries from the Confederacy. He emerged from the pungent haze of tobacco smoke on the other side of the room and handed his hat to one of the cloakroom attendants. He suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. He cast about the room and was just in time to catch a sneering Jerome Travely looking at him from over by the free drinks table.
Rush was somewhat uneasy about this – was Travely planning some stupid stunt that could wreck the evening? Relations between Nova Britannia and the Confederacy were strained as they were without Travely getting drunk and causing a scene at the ambassador’s party.
People were now starting to trickle through some doors into the banqueting hall, helped on their way by an usher in a smart red coat. Rush joined them and was soon sitting at his table – a big rectangle of carved mahogany with 20 chairs pulled up to it. Remembering that he hadn’t eaten lunch, he started slicing into his bread roll as the room filled up with several hundred guests: lords, ladies, diplomats and the important people of London, their partners and friends were all present. Rush shook hands with the people who sat down next to him – a white-haired gentleman with medals pinned all over his tuxedo and a young Confederate woman who introduced herself as Lydia Garvel. They were interesting enough, and he chatted easily with them until he gave an inwards groan as he saw who was to be sitting opposite him – none other than Jerome Travely. Still, he shook hands and gave a smile, hoping that he wouldn’t have to talk to him. Mercifully, someone knocked loudly on the head table just then until everybody was silent. It was the usher. ‘Would everyone please be upstanding for the arrival of His Excellency Jean-Remi Labarre, ambassador for The Independent Confederacy to The Empire of Nova Britannia’ The applause for the old man was especially long as he was so well liked, and he had to make a few quietening gestures before the noise died down and he could speak.
Rush watched Labarre as he made a stirring address from a raised platform about how peace in the galaxy must be maintained, and what progress was being made between the two superpowers. He saw how Labarre’s grey moustaches moved up and down in time to his speech, and noticed how frail the ambassador looked as he leant on his walking stick. Labarre finished his oration with a flourish and then an army of waiters poured into the hall, their arms piled high with starters of salmon and bottles of vintage wine. Rush cursed quietly. They just had to pick fish as the starter - the one food he couldn’t stand.
‘What?’ said Lydia Garvel, obviously catching his muttering.
‘Oh, nothing - I’ve just got a cough. Probably all this smoke, isn’t it? said Rush, using the classic excuse.
It didn’t look as if Ms. Garvel had bought it, but she didn’t question him further either, so he added ‘In fact, I’m going to get a breath of fresh air on the balcony.’ Of course, really he just wanted to get as far away from the fish as possible, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
About two minutes later, Rush was breathing in the smell of the summer evening from the first floor balcony. It was a mixture of fresh air and orange blossom from the acres of garden which spread out around the embassy, and it lifted his spirits. He leaned out slightly to look at the orange groves below him. It made him feel glad that humanity had finally struck a balance with nature on Earth back in the mid 2000s before the global warming phenomenon had gotten out of hand. Now, in the year 2487, because of the slightly raised temperatures, orange trees could grow alongside ordinary English trees and shrubs. Rush stayed a minute longer watching the lengthening shadows and listening to the calming noise of crickets in the undergrowth, and then made his way slowly down the quiet corridors towards the banqueting hall. Suddenly, two deafening gunshots crashed somewhere around the corner. Rush was running as the second shot rang out. It was about twenty metres to the corner - could he catch the gunman before he reloaded the shotgun? He’d recognised the sound of one of those old-fashioned double-barrelled things. Some people still hunted with them.
Rush rounded the corner and prepared to defend himself. He stopped. There was no gunman here - just a discarded shotgun and...Ambassador Labarre, lying stark dead on the floor with half of his body blown away! Rush picked up the weapon to look at it before he knew what he was doing, and immediately dropped it as if it was red hot. It would have his fingerprints on it now! A door burst open along the corridor. He could hear the sound of a toilet flushing as Jerome Travely skidded out of the toilets into full view of the corpse, hastily zipping up his trousers. He stopped and looked from the dead ambassador to Rush with a look of horror on his normally sneering face. He pointed a shaking finger at Rush. Feet were thundering on the stairs now. People were going to arrive at any second. ‘Murderer!’ screeched Travely. ‘Murderer!’ Rush knew he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this one, so he did the only thing he could do: Run. He tore down the corridor towards the door with a green sign on it - a fire exit. ‘Stop that man! He’s killed the ambassador!’ shrieked Travely as the first people arrived at the top of the stairs. They immediately gave chase, and Travely followed them. Rush was like a man possessed, and he was pulling away from the group of overweight aristocrats. How far was it to the fire exit? 30 metres? 40? His mind was focused on that door - it was his only safe way out of this place. ‘Stop now, Sir, or I shall open fire!’ warned one of his pursuers, grabbing a revolver from his inside pocket. Rush sped up, put his head down and lurched to the left, knocking an expensive vase off a table. A shot was fired. Rush heard the bullet splinter the wooden panelling as he immediately weaved back to his right, Another shot. This time he felt the shock of air as the lead projectile whistled past his head. His pursuers weren’t going to miss a third time, and he was still about 5 seconds away from the door. He chanced a look to his left as he passed another staircase. To his surprise he saw Remson sprinting up the stairs with a determined look on his face. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll get the bounder!’ he yelled as he leapt into the corrdor and went after Rush. A muffled exclamation from behind him told Rush that Remson had just spoiled the aim of the gunman by getting in the way. ‘One second until salvation,’ he thought, the door was just ahead. With a roar, Remson lunged forwards, pushing off with his back foot and flying into a rugby tackle. He slammed into Rush’s hip and propelled him into the door, which exploded open. Rush tumbled down a number of steps, banging his head against the floor. Dazed, he watched as Remson kicked the door shut and wedged it tightly with another object from his seemingly bottomless pockets before turning towards him with an icy glare. ‘What the devil’s going on here?’
It's a thriller, but most of this chapter is just setting the scene. For those of you can't be bothered to read long posts (most of you - I know I can't usually
), it contains a murder and some nice Briticisms. It is set in 2487, when space colonialism has come into being. This is a very non-clichéd sci-fi setting. I apologise in advance for the poor formatting. I didn't write it for the web, unfortunately.-------
Andrew Rush tumbled out of the taxi door like an actor in a cheap slapstick comedy. Picking himself up, he thrust some coins into the driver’s outstretched hand and quickly dusted himself off. ‘I’m late!’ he reminded himself, as he briefly took in the opulent grandeur of the Independent Confederacy’s embassy. Twenty marble steps, enormously wide and inlaid with fine strips of gold, led up to the elegantly carved entrance, over which hung the Confederacy’s flag – a golden silhouette of an eagle hurling a thunderbolt, over a blue background. Andrew bounded up the steps two at a time with a rising sense of dread; to be late to the ambassador’s speech would be the worst kind of insult. He was so preoccupied that he almost crashed straight into a man leaning against the doorway, dressed in a white dinner jacket and matching top hat.
‘What’s the rush?’ said the man; an idly amused expression on his moustachioed face.
Andrew suddenly recognised his old friend, Robert Remson, and he stopped.
‘I’d know those terrible puns anywhere’ he said, turning to greet the fellow Elmsbury college boy.
Remson’s eyes widened with mock horror. ‘My puns? Terrible?’ Rush laughed weakly, eager to avoid a diplomatic incident by getting to the speech on time.
‘Cuban?’ offered Remson suddenly, extracting a metal case of the fine cigars from an inside pocket of his tuxedo. Rush shook his head. ‘I’d love to, Rob, but I can’t… Actually, why are you still out here? The ambassador’s speech starts in 30 seconds!’
‘What on Earth are you talking about, old boy?’ inquired Remson, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
‘The speech, it starts at 7:15!’
‘Well, if you want to know, I was just enjoying the evening air – it’s a damn sight cooler out here than it is in there.’ said Remson, gesturing through the double-doors. ‘Oh, and you might want to look at this.’ He produced an invitation from somewhere else inside his tuxedo and handed it to Rush. Rush read the time on the invitation: ‘7:30!’ he exclaimed. ‘But Smith told me …’ Remson cut him off with a burst of laughter. ‘You know how useless he is! I’m telling you – never believe a word that man says – it’s like he lives in another world.’ Rush had to agree with him. Smith must have been the most disorganised man in London – yet he still kept his job as a clerk in Rush’s small firm, a space travel company of sorts. Feeling relieved at the change of schedule, Rush accepted his friend’s offer of a cigar and went with him through the doors, talking about how their businesses were going. Remson was the son of Lord Stradbroke, so he didn’t really need a job, but he had one nonetheless. He’d already shown keen business sense as a child, and now in his early thirties he had a property empire and a booming import-export business. As they ambled into the entrance hall, with its grand staircase curving up to the left and right, a smirking young man with slick black hair called out from across the room ‘Nice entrance, Rush. Very dignified getting out of that taxi.’
‘Ah, ignore him.’ said Remson with a wave of his cigar. ‘He’s a slimy bugger, that Jerome.’ They watched as Jerome Travely turned to share a comment with the portly man standing next to him with a glass of red wine in his hand. The man threw back his head and roared with laughter that turned the heads of most of the people next to him and sloshed the wine dangerously close to the edge of his glass. Rush gritted his teeth. He didn’t know Jerome Travely too well, and he didn’t want to. He was a lazy, obnoxious rich kid who took every opportunity to show off his wealth. At least Remson showed off his wealth with style. Travely on the other hand…
‘Right then – I’m going off to speak to Sir Anthony over there’ said Remson, pointing to a square-jawed character standing on his own by the staircase. ‘Alright – I’ll go and find somewhere to put my hat’ said Rush as he removed the object from his head and fanned his face with it; Jerome Travely forgotten for the meantime. Remson hadn’t been joking. It really was hot in here, and he noticed that many of the ladies, in their dazzling ball gowns, were carrying their own fans. He made his way through the throng of people, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces, and politely greeting dignitaries from the Confederacy. He emerged from the pungent haze of tobacco smoke on the other side of the room and handed his hat to one of the cloakroom attendants. He suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. He cast about the room and was just in time to catch a sneering Jerome Travely looking at him from over by the free drinks table.
Rush was somewhat uneasy about this – was Travely planning some stupid stunt that could wreck the evening? Relations between Nova Britannia and the Confederacy were strained as they were without Travely getting drunk and causing a scene at the ambassador’s party.
People were now starting to trickle through some doors into the banqueting hall, helped on their way by an usher in a smart red coat. Rush joined them and was soon sitting at his table – a big rectangle of carved mahogany with 20 chairs pulled up to it. Remembering that he hadn’t eaten lunch, he started slicing into his bread roll as the room filled up with several hundred guests: lords, ladies, diplomats and the important people of London, their partners and friends were all present. Rush shook hands with the people who sat down next to him – a white-haired gentleman with medals pinned all over his tuxedo and a young Confederate woman who introduced herself as Lydia Garvel. They were interesting enough, and he chatted easily with them until he gave an inwards groan as he saw who was to be sitting opposite him – none other than Jerome Travely. Still, he shook hands and gave a smile, hoping that he wouldn’t have to talk to him. Mercifully, someone knocked loudly on the head table just then until everybody was silent. It was the usher. ‘Would everyone please be upstanding for the arrival of His Excellency Jean-Remi Labarre, ambassador for The Independent Confederacy to The Empire of Nova Britannia’ The applause for the old man was especially long as he was so well liked, and he had to make a few quietening gestures before the noise died down and he could speak.
Rush watched Labarre as he made a stirring address from a raised platform about how peace in the galaxy must be maintained, and what progress was being made between the two superpowers. He saw how Labarre’s grey moustaches moved up and down in time to his speech, and noticed how frail the ambassador looked as he leant on his walking stick. Labarre finished his oration with a flourish and then an army of waiters poured into the hall, their arms piled high with starters of salmon and bottles of vintage wine. Rush cursed quietly. They just had to pick fish as the starter - the one food he couldn’t stand.
‘What?’ said Lydia Garvel, obviously catching his muttering.
‘Oh, nothing - I’ve just got a cough. Probably all this smoke, isn’t it? said Rush, using the classic excuse.
It didn’t look as if Ms. Garvel had bought it, but she didn’t question him further either, so he added ‘In fact, I’m going to get a breath of fresh air on the balcony.’ Of course, really he just wanted to get as far away from the fish as possible, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
About two minutes later, Rush was breathing in the smell of the summer evening from the first floor balcony. It was a mixture of fresh air and orange blossom from the acres of garden which spread out around the embassy, and it lifted his spirits. He leaned out slightly to look at the orange groves below him. It made him feel glad that humanity had finally struck a balance with nature on Earth back in the mid 2000s before the global warming phenomenon had gotten out of hand. Now, in the year 2487, because of the slightly raised temperatures, orange trees could grow alongside ordinary English trees and shrubs. Rush stayed a minute longer watching the lengthening shadows and listening to the calming noise of crickets in the undergrowth, and then made his way slowly down the quiet corridors towards the banqueting hall. Suddenly, two deafening gunshots crashed somewhere around the corner. Rush was running as the second shot rang out. It was about twenty metres to the corner - could he catch the gunman before he reloaded the shotgun? He’d recognised the sound of one of those old-fashioned double-barrelled things. Some people still hunted with them.
Rush rounded the corner and prepared to defend himself. He stopped. There was no gunman here - just a discarded shotgun and...Ambassador Labarre, lying stark dead on the floor with half of his body blown away! Rush picked up the weapon to look at it before he knew what he was doing, and immediately dropped it as if it was red hot. It would have his fingerprints on it now! A door burst open along the corridor. He could hear the sound of a toilet flushing as Jerome Travely skidded out of the toilets into full view of the corpse, hastily zipping up his trousers. He stopped and looked from the dead ambassador to Rush with a look of horror on his normally sneering face. He pointed a shaking finger at Rush. Feet were thundering on the stairs now. People were going to arrive at any second. ‘Murderer!’ screeched Travely. ‘Murderer!’ Rush knew he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this one, so he did the only thing he could do: Run. He tore down the corridor towards the door with a green sign on it - a fire exit. ‘Stop that man! He’s killed the ambassador!’ shrieked Travely as the first people arrived at the top of the stairs. They immediately gave chase, and Travely followed them. Rush was like a man possessed, and he was pulling away from the group of overweight aristocrats. How far was it to the fire exit? 30 metres? 40? His mind was focused on that door - it was his only safe way out of this place. ‘Stop now, Sir, or I shall open fire!’ warned one of his pursuers, grabbing a revolver from his inside pocket. Rush sped up, put his head down and lurched to the left, knocking an expensive vase off a table. A shot was fired. Rush heard the bullet splinter the wooden panelling as he immediately weaved back to his right, Another shot. This time he felt the shock of air as the lead projectile whistled past his head. His pursuers weren’t going to miss a third time, and he was still about 5 seconds away from the door. He chanced a look to his left as he passed another staircase. To his surprise he saw Remson sprinting up the stairs with a determined look on his face. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll get the bounder!’ he yelled as he leapt into the corrdor and went after Rush. A muffled exclamation from behind him told Rush that Remson had just spoiled the aim of the gunman by getting in the way. ‘One second until salvation,’ he thought, the door was just ahead. With a roar, Remson lunged forwards, pushing off with his back foot and flying into a rugby tackle. He slammed into Rush’s hip and propelled him into the door, which exploded open. Rush tumbled down a number of steps, banging his head against the floor. Dazed, he watched as Remson kicked the door shut and wedged it tightly with another object from his seemingly bottomless pockets before turning towards him with an icy glare. ‘What the devil’s going on here?’
Report, edit, etc...Posted by KrAzY on 2005-02-27 at 00:10:45
Wow... nice job
Report, edit, etc...Posted by TEC_Ghost on 2005-02-27 at 12:49:21
Then why did you reply on this topic? Stop spamming, if you're not going to read it then dont bother posting crap, sorry if I sound like a jackass, im just tired of people posting when they shouldnt be.
On another note, I loved it will, looking forward to more chapters
On another note, I loved it will, looking forward to more chapters
Report, edit, etc...Posted by CaptainWill on 2005-02-27 at 15:03:24
QUOTE(n2o-Simpsons @ Feb 27 2005, 05:25 PM)
he writes more than i can read and u say wow nice job lol!! if u actually read it! =/ i didnt cuz i hate reading ,.....
[right][snapback]154726[/snapback][/right]
[right][snapback]154726[/snapback][/right]
For those of you can't be bothered to read long posts (most of you - I know I can't usually ), it contains a murder and some nice Briticisms. It is set in 2487, when space colonialism has come into being. This is a very non-clichéd sci-fi setting. I apologise in advance for the poor formatting. I didn't write it for the web, unfortunately.
Wonder why I put that part in?
lol
Report, edit, etc...Posted by BeeR_KeG on 2005-02-27 at 15:23:06
Excellent piece of writing I would have to say. Fine detail, dialogue and pretty much everything that you can think off. The point of view was just perfect for this kind of writeing. The climax was clearly visible and there was a good sense of foreshadowing when Rush picked up the shoutgun which gave it even more sense of suspense. The ending, or should I say begining in this case was brilliantly done, leaveing an infinite number of scenarios to be written after Rush and Remson shut the door closed.
I would be looking forward to the next chapter and the rest of the novel. If you do publicize this novel, make sure you tell me so that I can buy it.
I would be looking forward to the next chapter and the rest of the novel. If you do publicize this novel, make sure you tell me so that I can buy it.
Report, edit, etc...Posted by Puni(F) on 2005-02-27 at 15:28:50
Wow, Long post, But i read it all 
, It's great, Cant wait for some more chapter's by Captain Will! 
, It's great, Cant wait for some more chapter's by Captain Will! Report, edit, etc...Posted by n2o-SiMpSoNs on 2005-02-27 at 15:35:46
i only read the begining but what i read i liked 
Report, edit, etc...Posted by CaptainWill on 2005-02-27 at 16:07:20
Wow, thanks for the nice comments guys. I've always wanted to write some sort of novel, but I don't know if I've got the stamina (as it were) to go on for 200+ pages.
I have a clear plan in mind for how this story would plan out, with some nice twists. I'm not going to tell you though, just in case I do continue with it!
I have a clear plan in mind for how this story would plan out, with some nice twists. I'm not going to tell you though, just in case I do continue with it!
Report, edit, etc...Posted by pekkel_the_duck on 2005-02-27 at 16:11:43
Wait, did you write it or is it from another book?
Report, edit, etc...Posted by CaptainWill on 2005-02-27 at 16:20:34
I wouldn't have posted it if I hadn't written it.
Yes - it is my own work. I wouldn't plagiarise someone else's.
Yes - it is my own work. I wouldn't plagiarise someone else's.