Young Writers Society

There are legends, countless legends that tell of the consumption of the planet by the infinite god inspired power of the Elites. They tell of men of valor, the great might and honor of the underdog expelled class that rebelled and conquered the planet like a plague on the world regime. They tell of a man, Eric Anto, who lead the first of the worldwide rebellions that began in the unknown castes of the underground societies. They were the Elites, and they were invincible. The conquest of the old way was their proof, and the just punishment of those who dared oppose them.

These stories, while they have some small basis in truth, are false. Unfortunately for history, the truth has been lost to a thousand years of time. One thousand years of pro-elitist propaganda. One thousand years of the reign of only those permitted by the Elites to rule. Puppets to the will of the peace keepers, the Elites do not dare take place in politics themselves. Rather, they hire others to do the dirty work for them, as it has been ever since the creation of the First Free State in San Salvador, shortly after the beginning of the first violence; the first blood.

The Elites make their place in peace keeping, they are the security force. Their will as noble men of peace is maintained by their monopoly on security. The First Free State still stands, and has a law on the books declaring that, in a state of emergency, the man that controls the Elites, the one man that leads them, may declare himself the emperor, replacing the current leadership. A default, if the current authority is incapable of maintaining order in a time of crisis; the Elites will govern until the crisis has been averted. This act is usually reserved for military oversights, but the law doesn't make mention of anything of the sort.

Curitiba- Southern Brazil Province, Salverica 2987

A slender, pale man sits in a stool next to a man laying on a table, amidst various undistinguishable equipment.

"Eric, if these dreams continue, you may have to find the Sage. Your dream last night, perplexes me. We can't have our Commander at risk. Not in these times anyway." The man sitting on the stool hovered over a datapad, engrossed in what he was seeing.
"I'm in no risk. I just don't know what its supposed to mean, Frik." Eric, the man on the table, seemed uneasy at the suggestion that he wasn't up to the task.
"Why don't you have another look?" Frick plugged the datapad into a slot in the wall directly behind him, and pressed the only available button next to it. Images appeared on the wall opposite the table, just high enough for Eric not to have to move to see it easily.

It was dark, and though there was no indication of it, it felt damp and uninviting. Slowly a picture began to crystalize, there was green. Soon, the green turned into large, lush leaves, with a path directly ahead. There was danger here. It was behind this image. The flickering images panned to the reverse of the first image. There was a beast there, large and orange. Turning back, the leaves moved past rapidly, bouncing about as they passed. Running, out of breath. The beast was aproaching faster than the leaves were moving. A vine, not far away, the leaves dissapeared to the rear, and the image jumped to a severe close up of the vine. The vine was hanging from a tree, two mice, one black and one white sat gnawing at the vine. It will break if they don't stop. Another beast below, two now, hungry and ready to eat. On the vine, and suddenly the only thing visible, a large ripe strawberry. A hand grasps it, and the fruit is consumed. There is blissfull happiness, and then nothing.

"The way I see this Eric, you were being chased by two extinct creatures, and ended up eating a piece of fruit rather than saving yourself. It may relate to guilt you're feeling, do you feel sad at the office much?"
"Concern maybe. Not regret."
"Concern for what?"
"The way-" An unpleasant beeping began to emit from his jacket before he could finish. "This is probably important, I've got to go."
"Until next time Commander Anto." Frick stood, and bowed respectfully as Eric left the room, reaching for his communicator. He pressed a button, and a crackled voice rang from it.

"Invasion of the Eastern- Massive- we- -nder atta- " a prolonged beep then sounded to signify the loss of signal. Eric pocketed the device and darted for his escort. Outside the doors of the building awaited a rather delecate looking vehicle, floating on nothing more than a faint blue light. The signal loss could only indicate a destroyed sattelite, or a destroyed comm tower. Even in the thickest, most severe storms, these communicators were endlessly reliable.
"Go!" He shouted as he entered the back of the vehicle. The escort lifted slightly off the ground as a faint hum grew louder. It bolted forward, zipping over lower flying civilian traffic. He took this rare chance to gaze out the window, and lose himself in the landscape.

Until the floods, Curitiba hadn't been much of a town, then the Government moved there, taking the Elite command with it, and destroying what little was left of the original city in the process. But that had been centuries ago. The Palaces sat on top of a faint hill, and blended into what landscape was present in the imense city. These buildings were some of the few left in the world still made from brick, snuggled into heavy foliage amidst endless skyscrapers. 'Palaces' may not be the most accurate word to describe them, mostly government business buildings, the Elite's main office was in one of them, as well as several other important government functions. There was a building reserved for the Emperor, or in this case, Empress, for living and carring out all the work that couldn't be done elsewhere. They were desinged not to look too conspicuous, but for the most part, the locals knew exactly what they were. These weren't designed to even feign the possibility of defending an attack, most of the time, no one of importance was there, and capturing the city wouldn't do an enemy much good.

They were however, quite difficult to lead an air drop too, or even to march too from outside the city. Landing an army and invading from the sea was next to impossible, and the city itself was surrounded at the outskirts by a heavy defense system. But this was a concern in no one's mind, as the inherant lack of importance of the city.

From their elevated position, Eric got a rare glimpse of the sea. He could see it from his balcony, but he was often so busy that he never got a chance to look until long after darkness covered the city.

The escort vehicle slowed as it decended to the offices, just enough to keep from crashing into the pavement. Eric lept out, and rushed to the Imperial chambers, not far from the landing pad. The halls were a crisp white that could only be found in doctored images and paintings. There was little to decorate them, and one could get the feeling that the idea was to apreciate the clean whiteness of the walls and the arcitecture by simply stopping for a second to absorb his surroundings.

Eric, however, had little time for ths as he bounded through the halls, eventually coming to the Empress' private office. The doors were large and painted a deep crimson red that contrasted deeply with the clean white walls. They were antiques, from some castle or some other in some far off country. One of the few sets of doors still fationed from wood. They creeked as they glid open. The interior of the room was bare, concrete mostly, with sparks of red on the floor and walls. The Empress sat at a very large desk with a minurature person on it, talking to her. He looked strangely familiar to Eric.

"Madam-" She held up a finger, halting his speach. Eric couldn't make out what the small man was saying, but before he could get close enough to here, she nodded her head, pressed a button, and he dissapeared.

"Commander, how can I be of service?" Her voice whisped with authority and grace, utterly unconcerned with the obvious prioirty that Eric had given this meeting.
"There was an attack on the eastern province. I don't know the scale, possibly huge. The only message I got blacked out."
"Yes, thank you Eric. I've just heard of this myself. That was Captain Wes, I believe you two know eachother. He was at the base in Siguiri. Its nothing Eric, a small attack."
"Who just sends out a single skirmish to attack an entire military, Elite equipped fortification? And why did we lose contact earlier?"
"All good questions, but I assure you that this is a non issue. There is some equipment in your office that needs your approval. I've no clue what it is. But I figure its the type of thing you'd have fun with. Good day Commander, I'll send for you if needed."

Eric left in a state of confusion. He found just about everything she had said hard to believe. He strolled across the lot in disbelief, making it the short distance from the Imperial chambers to his office building. The building was a little unkempt, kind of dirty, and not lacking in people to clutter the place up. In his office awaited a large box with a note attached.
'This unit has passed all tests within all four branches militarized Elites, as well as the artisans. Awaits your personal approval for company wide institution of use. Have a nice day.' Below the brief message was a small paragraph, detailing that by signing he aproved the usage, yada yada yada, and a place for his signurature.

His office had only one small square window, and was richly cluttered with oddities and old files. The window was a stark contrast to the large three dimensional imagery window in the Empress' office. He had a large cabinet behind him for hard copies, and information that was too secure to be left digital. His desk however, was spotless. The large metal canister that contained the unit to be investigated took some lifting, but he got it on his desk. The lid slid open to one side, revealing a large orange package, on the package was written: 'CONTENTS HIGHLY VOLATILE.' Eric cursed at himself as he cut open the package. Another package awaited. 'Contents secure, identification required.' Below which was a space for scanning an ID. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small square of metal, with no outstanding features at all. He placed it next to the scanning area, and put it back in his jacket. The message disappeared, and he cut open that package as well. Inside awaited a crisp, polished leather box. The outer packaging gave it up with some resistance. He lifted the box and shoved the rest off his desk. Immediately when it hit the floor, a small machine sprung forth from inside the desk, and went to work ridding the office of the filth.

The box had a few clips keeping it closed, but gave way easily. Opening the box revealed a paper note:
“Prototype Assault/Defensive Personal Weapon AS/DF-2601.
Handle with care boss. The interface is pretty lo-tech, all self explanatory. The cartages are filled with a supercooled, highly unstable compound that reacts explosively to oxygen or carbon dioxide. So don't drop them. Under the right conditions, that explosion will generate a plasma stream that has a huge effective range. We haven't been able to test the complete effective range of the weapon, mostly because we haven't got enough space. However it is as accurate as you are with it, the beam flies perfectly strait. You'll notice the rather large blade attached to it. The blade is standard Cold Filament Titanium, so no worries there. Oh, and sir, have fun with this, we did. This cracks all the latest shield technology, and goes quite a ways through most material, save for the cold filament the blade is made of.
Eng. Captain Frasier.
PS: Sorry about the packaging, an intern did it, we didn't catch his mistake until he had already sealed it. It won't happen again. Yes, the secure package goes OUTSIDE the highly volatile warning, we know sir.”

Under the paper was a beautiful silvery blade, razor sharp. Attached at the base was an old, revolving style projectile weapon, only upside down to the blade. There was no trigger, there was a small tag indicating that the small pointy device sticking out of what appeared to be the top, or the rounded side of the blade, just off where the polished wooden handle stuck out of the projectile device was in fact, the triggering mechanism. He pulled it back and let it go, it snapped back to place rapidly, with a loud clack sound. In the soft material holding the weapon in place inside the box were two smaller, also polished wooden boxes, he opened one. Across a series of brass cylinders with glass coned tops was a bright orange sticker. “BLANKS” He inserted one into what he assumed to be the receprical for the firing devices, and clicked the trigger again. The drum rolled over, but nothing happened. He repeated the action, and a loud POP filled the room.
Upon opening the other box, he found the same thing, except the glass was now filled with a metallic blue liquid. “DANGER” was written on the sticker, which he promptly removed, and replaced the box.

Saw your post about no crits over in The Lounge, and it was one of the few complaints that I've read that didn't sound like a complaint, so I wandered on over.

The opening was a bit hokey and cliche. It's something that came in a lot of use during the 1940's and 1950's, but is outdated now. I much rather something like that be a sort of prologue; that is, as a story in and of itself. Tolkien was a master at doing that, and many others have replicated it since. Also, avoid timelines. Saying "1,000 years ago" just doesn't work.

However, that is not to say that it was a bad opening; on the contrary. It drew my attention and was interesting. What I especially liked though was that it was a myth regarding a collapse of civilization and that you tied it in very well to general story.

As for the story itself, it was good. I liked your descriptions and everything in the story seemed to come to life. However, what you did do isn't quite as important as what you didn't do, and what you didn't do was convey a false of futurism. You got imperalism and all that in there, but the way you described it was very contemporary, and that's good for the reader. Plus, you didn't make up some kind of absurd name like "Xijrer." Seems like everyone these days wants to come up with a name like Han Solo or Obi Wan, but they forget that Luke and Leia are pretty traditional names.

All in all, it was an enjoyable read. I like it.

Muchas Gracias. Thats actually exactly what I needed to hear. My original intent with the intro was to make it longer, and try to chronicle the entire myth of what happened, and bring in the real story in a different story entirely. But when I did that, it developed into a story of its own, and I lost sight of what I was doing quickly. But I suppose trying to bring in that myth is a good idea afterall.
Again, thanks.

I'd drop some points for ya, but you don't strike me as the kinda guy that cares.

Aha! Nate replied.

So… since I think that people actually want me to tell them what I think of their stories at the onset, I shall tell you! The prologue brings forth a very interesting society. I’m interested in learning more about the Elites – always a good thing. The Elites sound delightfully, almost reminiscent of Big Brother. They know everything, yet they are behind the scenes. Those kinds of characters are always fun to write for, and since it looks like you spent a lot of time plotting this out, it looks interesting to read. Again, a good thing. So right now you’re starting from a solid beginning. Excellent.

The prologue is actually a prologue! I know that sounds redundant, but I have read so many prologues that are pseudo chapter ones. It’s nice to read something like this.

There are, of course, a couple things I would change and I have written novel-sized, incoherent ramblings of why I would change them. They are bound to be somewhat inaccurate at times, and subject to opinion, but whatever. I’m known to be harsh and everything, but I hope you look over what I have to say and improve the story as such. And, as always, if I’m not making any sense whatsoever, feel free to ask questions.

The biggest hurdle I see is you’re a wonderful politician. That is, I’ve known several local politicians, and they tend to over describe on the things that don’t particularly matter and then under describe things that do matter. What do I mean by that? Well… I go over that more in the critique, but basically, sometimes you get remarkably close to gobbledygook.

Okay… now, the critique!

There are legends, countless legends that tell of the consumption of the planet by the infinite god inspired power of the Elites.

Okay, this is a good first sentence. Why? Well, because it introduces the Elites, which immediately tell us that 1) this is going to have a legend attached to it, which means that we, as readers, settle down more comfortably and want to read it, and 2) that the Elites have power that is god-inspired. (Note the hyphen.)

So, there are a couple of things that can be tweaked. For one, change the word “consumption.” It’s a five dollar word that really doesn’t describe anything. Consumption literally means eating, and eating the earth means we’re destroying it in some form or another. But how? A better word choice is needed.

They tell of men of valor, the great might and honor of the underdog expelled class that rebelled and conquered the planet like a plague on the world regime.

This sentence is not quite as good. It’s called parallelism. What is parallelism? Basically, it’s continuing the sentence in a similar way.

This would be parallelism: “She hopped, tripped on her shoelaces, and crashed into the floor.” See how all the verb forms are past tense with the –ed ending?

If you can make this sentence a little more parallel, it would be infinitely better. One way you can do this is to cut out a couple words. The words “great might and honor” in the context of your sentence really mean nothing to the reader – not yet anyway. Your job, as a writer, is to show the reader what you mean when you say “great might and honor.” In fact, if you like dealing with contrasting images, when you say those words, you might even contradict yourself, on purpose, to create a stunning literary effect! So, at this point, in the second sentence, you might not want to use those words. Cut them out.

And then there’s the other problem… most of the sentence really doesn’t make sense. “…and the underdog expelled class that rebelled.” By saying “underdog” without any adjectives in front of it, you are making it into a noun. But then you go onto say “expelled class” in which the word “expelled” modifies the noun “class.”

Oh dear… I’m not making any sense.

Okay… try to think of it this way. At the moment in your sentence, underdog is a noun. So, to make it better, you might want to shorten what you want to say and make it a whole lot more concise. For instance, you might have this:

“They tell of men of valor, of the great strength of the underdog, of the proletarian class that rebelled against their leaders and conquered the planet like a plague of ______.”

And that’s the other thing. Your simile is strange. “…like a plague on the world regime.” What is that supposed to mean? We’re not sure whether we should look down upon this proletarian class or be happy they won, simply because the simile is not there. For instance, if I said this:

“They tell of men of valor, of the great strength of the underdog, of the proletarian class that rebelled against their leaders and conquered the planet like a plague of rats.”

It would be much different than if I were to say this:

“They tell of men of valor, of the great strength of the underdog, of the proletarian class that rebelled against their leaders and conquered the planet.”

Because you use a simile, you have to make sure it makes sense.

They tell of a man, Eric Anto, who lead the first of the worldwide rebellions that began in the unknown castes of the underground societies.

Led, not lead.

They were the Elites, and they were invincible. The conquest of the old way was their proof, and the just punishment of those who dared oppose them.

The second sentence of this, once again, doesn’t make any sense. The Elites are conquering the old way (whatever this way was) and this is their proof… but what is it a proof of? Have they proven that they are invincible?

If so, then you haven’t given us enough information for us to be able to understand this sentence. Unless they conquered the old way in a particularly interesting and clever fashion, then we don’t know that they are invincible. Clever, yes, but invincible? Who knows!

If you did mean this, then you might want to get rid of the first part of the sentence. Right now, you want to lead the reader into a creepy legend. Why? Because creepy legends are totally awesome! Besides, if you have a bunch of creepy characters who control a society, then the reader instantly sympathizes with the hero and wants the hero to overcome it all.

The easiest way to make the Elites creepy is to make them inhuman. For instance, you’ve done a wonderful job already by telling us they are invincible and they have conquered the old society. That’s enough information for now… they don’t have to prove anything.

And the just punishment of those who dared oppose them? That part just sounds corny.

These stories, while they have some small basis in truth, are false.

Ah… interesting. Still, I would prefer a shorter way of putting this across. For instance, you can make this into a short, quirky sentence that stands out above all the rest. How? Fragment it.

“These stories were false.”

And… I know what you’re thinking now. Why did I use “were” instead of “are”? Simple. I looked at the rest of your story and found out that you actually had a past tense story! You can’t switch tenses like this. Be consistent. And remember: past tense is your friend.

Unfortunately for history, the truth has been lost to a thousand years of time. One thousand years of pro-elitist propaganda. One thousand years of the reign of only those permitted by the Elites to rule.

Okay… the first thousand was okay. Two thousands were pushing it. Three thousands… now that’s just overboard.

Instead of saying “one thousand” over and over again until the reader wants to stab you with a butter knife, fragment the sentences so they jerk out of the paragraph a little bit more.

So we would have something like this:

“Unfortunately for history, the truth has been lost to a thousand years of time. Of pro-elitist propaganda. Of the reign of only those permitted by the Elites to rule.”

Better. Notice how short and concise it is. Instead of being 35 words, I’ve trimmed it down to 29. It seems a little more fluid to me anyway. But I could fix it more. For instance, why is there an unfortunately there? When you write like this, it is already assumed that there is an unfortunately there. Plus, we already know it’s unfortunate for history. After all, history revolves around truth. So we can delete that part. We would have something that looks like this:

“The truth had been lost to a thousand years of time. Of pro-Elitist propaganda. Of the reign of only those permitted by the Elites to rule.”

Three words less! It’s starting to look better. But it could be more concise! The last sentence is awkward. I mean, when we trim it, it looks concise and fragmented, which is nice, but the last sentence seems to blunder around. Oh no! So, to fix it, ask yourself these questions:

What do you want to say?

What would be the clearest way of saying it?

I’m going to let you decide what to do with it. Play with it some… believe me, it’s fun.

Puppets to the will of the peace keepers, the Elites do not dare take place in politics themselves.

People don’t take place in politics… they participate in politics. And remember… past tense.

Rather, they hire others to do the dirty work for them, as it has been ever since the creation of the First Free State in San Salvador, shortly after the beginning of the first violence; the first blood.

The Elites make their place in peace keeping, they are the security force.

Peacekeeping is one word.

Their will as noble men of peace is maintained by their monopoly on security. The First Free State still stands, and has a law on the books declaring that, in a state of emergency, the man that controls the Elites, the one man that leads them, may declare himself the emperor, replacing the current leadership. A default, if the current authority is incapable of maintaining order in a time of crisis; the Elites will govern until the crisis has been averted. This act is usually reserved for military oversights, but the law doesn't make mention of anything of the sort.

Gah…

One thing I don’t like about certain mythologies is when the author shoves a bunch of facts up your nose. Yours isn’t too bad, but it reminds me of that one spot in 1984 which always made me go to sleep – always bad.

Instead, calm down. Most of this information is not needed, not now anyway. During the course of the story, we will learn of it eventually, when it is needed. But until then, don’t ram this important information into us on the onset.

Ah… the end of the prologue. I’ll do the rest another time.

“Why-” He pulled out his communication device and pressed the only available button. A clear pleasant voice responded.
“Name please.”
“Engineer's office”
“One moment... authorization please.”
“73-37.”
“One moment please... name or department please.”
“Captain Frasier.”
A long, clean tone pierced the silence in the tiny office.
“This is Frasier.”
“Tim, hang on a sec.” Eric plugged the comm device into a slot on his desk, and a tiny man appeared on the desktop.
“Commander Anto! How can I help you sir?”
“Quick question: why are these cartridges made out of glass? It seems a tad dangerous to be hauling these fragile, potentially explosive devices around in my pocket.”
“Not potentially sir, definitely. Drop one out you're window if you'd like a small demonstration.”

Eric complied promptly, by tossing the small brass and blue cylander out his open window, watching closely, he saw it hit the concrete three stories down and explode in a glorious blue cloud. It was surprisingly quiet for its brightness and size, but it left a pungent stench about, and stained the concrete a pale blue color.

“Nice display. How am I supposed to carry these things? And you still haven't said why their glass.”
“Well sir, for the right conditions to be created within the chamber, they needed to be fragile. See, when the glass is broken, the liquid inside expands rapidly, much more so in a small area. If the barrel were any shorter, the stream would be much less reliable, and most of the gas would expand outwards rather than forward. But with the barrel being so long, it forces the gas to compress while it expands, creating the nice plasma stream that this weapon utilizes. If you read the memo attached to the approval form, it explains the changes that will be made. Brass coated cartridges is on the list.”

“Good. One more question.”
“Anything sir.”
“You and the wife want to meet for some dinner next Thursday?”
“We'd be honored sir.”
“Great, see you then.” He yanked the comm device and placed it back in his pocket.

As he did, a minurature image of the Empress appeared on his desk.
"Eric, I need a guest for dinner next Thursday, are you free?"
"No. I've got prior arrangements to dine with Captain Frasier."
"Well, blow him off, I need you there."
"You're mistaking me for someone that works you. I'm outside you're jurisdiction remember?"
She groned loudly. "Its an event for charity. Eric please, I need some distinguished faces."
"No it isn't. Your talking about the Gala with the foreign ministers to try toget them to cut prices on their bolo exports."
"Well, its like charity."
"Goodbye Madam." He pressed a button and cut her off before she could finish. He picked up the new weapon and swung it around a bit, crashing the backside into a shelf and knocking papers and nick gnacks of nthe floor. He decided that it would benefit him more if he took it outiside. He slipped the carrying device onto his belt and slid the blade inside. It hung nicely off his waist, and wasn't likely to get in the way in the future. Putting on his long, gray coat, he headed out the door, and down the dingy halls and stair wells to the street.

A breeze greeted him as he exited the building, and had faint reminders of sea air. Unfortunatley that pleasent smell was clogged with unpleasant odors of the city and nearby factories. He couldn't see much beyond the towers of the city, and the rolling mountains behind them.

Every building in the city that had a face visible from the air had large blue numbers painted just under the roof of the building. These were addresses for high flying traffic, and most would find upon further investigation, the same numbers at the bottoms of the building, where most of the traffic flew. He made a quick call to the security office of building NH10472 and had the Elite guard there actovate the airspace parimiter shield, which was a shield that surrounded the building and streached all the way to the lower sheild that blanketed the city.

The building was about five miles away, but it was the largest building visible from the compund, and would be the only building equipped with impact detection shields. Meaning that as soon as his shot hit the shilds of the building, he'd be able to know how long it took to leave his weapon and hit their sheild.

Placing the blunt side of the blade on his elbow, which he extended outwards for supprt, he was carefull to aim as high as he could, without striking the lower city shield. He reached his finger down to pull the hammer, and released it. *click* and then nothing. Realizing his mistake, he reached into his pocket to retrieve the box of live ammo, and loaded the weapon. Again he pulled the hammer, and released it. A resounding CRACK barraged the Imperial compound but did not echo.

The beam that emited was a pure blue color that seemed to absorb the light around it. It was deep, and dark and pulsed with energy. It was long, and had made it all the way to the target before it had entirely left the weapon. It was less than a second between the firing of the weapon and when it had become apparent that the beam had hit its target, five times faster than any conventional projectile known. The faint blue light that signified the presence of the shield dissapeared almost instantaniously. His comm device began to ring. The voice on the other end reported, with some emergency, that their shields had just been obliterated, and that restoring them might take some time. Eric sent several Elite engineers to assist with the problem, and readied to test another shot. Before he could contact another buildings security team however, he recieved an urgant message from the Empress to see her immediately.

Upon arriving in her office he noticed she looked distraught, uncomposed, and worried. This was a state that Eric wasn't used to seeing from her.
"Whats happened?" He grunted at her.
"We've just recieved this contact." She pressed a button on her desk, and a small man appeared, wearing a shipping uniform.
"We've come under fire from the ground! The landing base has opened fire, and intends to-" He dissapeared.
"Thats it. It goes out after that."
"Where was he landing? Where were the Elites escorting him?"
"Thats the problem Eric. Commander Anto. There weren't any. He was landing at Prince Island Base. Its neutral, they have no weapons there."
"There's always an escort, regardless. Where was his escort?" He asked again this time, with more anger. There was a long standing deal between the Elites and Salverican government that any over seas traffic, and all traffic leaving the lower atmosphere be escorted by Elite fighter craft. It was usually to protect against piracy, but it had other uses.
"I didn't send any. Eric, this was a simple cargo job."
"You personally didn't send any? What exactly were they carrying?"
"Nothing important, suffice to say that it was secure equipment."
"And the only reason Prince Base would open fire on an unescorted ship is if it had been captured by the United Eastern, so how much aren't you telling me, exactly?"